“Oh, where are my manners? My name is Cora. I’m Xavier’s momma.”
I rubbed my temple. The last thing I wanted with everything going on was another guest.
Before I could say anything more, Cora spoke again. “I was hoping to talk to you regarding their relationship.”
Angel walked past, muttering something about there being no relationship, and I shot her a glare. She might have been convinced Beau wasn’t lying, but so far I’d seen more evidence of a lingering relationship with Xavier than anything with Beau.
“Come on up,” I said into the intercom, earning more mutters from Angel as she took a seat on the sofa. Once I’d buzzed Cora in, I turned to Angel. “Can you please try to play nice?’
“I don’t know why you won’t believe Beau when he says that Xavier and Phoebe broke up.”
“Because I have seen nothing to evidence that.”
“Besides Beau’s photo on her bedside table?”
I raised one brow at her. “The same one that’s been on her bedside table at home for months even though they’ve been broken up since October?”
“That’s—”
A knock on the door cut her off.
“Just play nice!” I raised a finger in warning.
Without waiting for her to respond, I headed to get the door and let Cora in. A whirlwind of pink and blonde rushed through the door. Her hair and make-up was pristine, even if way over the top, and she had a casserole dish in her hands.
I put on my best “please the sponsors” voice and attitude. I might not have been happy to have an additional guest, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to be the best host I could be under the circumstances. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs—”
She shoved the casserole into my hands. “Call me Cora. We’re going to be family soon enough, after all.”
“Only if you believe the crazy shit your son says,” Angel muttered under her breath.
I shot her another warning glance, but luckily Cora didn’t seem to hear her.
“I wanted to stop in and see how you were doing,” Cora said as her gaze followed me to the kitchen.
After leaving whatever Cora had brought with her on the counter, I leaned against the countertop. “As well as anyone can expect, I guess.”
“Do you believe in God, Mr Reede?”
Angel scoffed and I caught the end of a disbelieving headshake. It was clear Cora and Angel were going to have a stellar friendship. To avoid disaster, I resolved to remain between the two of them for the length of Cora’s visit.
I rubbed one finger against my eyelid as I thought about the best way to answer her question. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe there could be a god, but I did wonder if He did exist why He would’ve let Emmanuel pass away days after his birth. Why would He let Phoebe be kidnapped? Why did so many shitty things happen to good people? No one had ever been able to answer those sort of questions well enough to satisfy my desire to follow any religion. I shrugged. “If the occasion calls for it.”
Cora’s eyes widened and her mouth opened.
“Sorry, just a little dark humour,” I added before she could complain. I didn’t want to make things difficult for Phoebe in the long run. I knew well enough how difficult life could be facing a hostile family. I came out from behind the kitchen bench and gave her a winning smile. “And please call me Declan.”
“Faith is what will see you through times like these.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes because her statements were only intended to be helpful, even if I didn’t necessarily share her beliefs.
“How exactly do you expect faith to bring Phoebe back?” Angel asked.
Cora gave her an overly friendly smile. “I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand, dear.”
“Someone like me?” Angel’s eyes flashed as she leapt to her feet. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“Someone without faith.” Cora’s crocodile smile indicted that wasn’t what she’d meant at all.
“Angel.” I shook my head as I offered a gentle warning. The woman might not have been pleasant, and I figured she was probably hiding a stack of prejudices beneath a veneer of religion, but I couldn’t rule out the possibility of getting some information from her about Xavier and Phoebe’s relationship in the States.
Angel growled before turning on her heel—no doubt feeling like I had betrayed her. Something told me there would be hell to pay later, but we’d cross that bridge when it came. It wasn’t like I was her favourite person at the moment anyway.
Cora reached for my hands. “Would you pray with me?”
Her question took me aback. “Uh, sure?”
Without releasing my hands from her talon-like fingernails, she led me over to the place Angel had occupied moments earlier. She wrapped her fingers around both of my palms. Then she closed her eyes and nodded and started to say a prayer out loud.
Although I tried to be respectful—to keep my head bowed and my eyes closed—I couldn’t do it for long. My mind raced through too many things instead. I risked opening one eye to glance at Cora, but she was just as earnest as she’d been when she’d started.
“. . . and please use your guiding hand to bring Phoebe back to the path of light and righteousness . . .”
Her words pissed me off, but I kept reciting a mantra to myself that it was just her way of helping. That she just came from a different background. For Phoebe, I needed to bite back on my irritation.
Movement in my peripheral vision made me twist my head to see what it was. Angel stood in the doorway to Phoebe’s bedroom, leaning against the frame. One eyebrow lifted when she caught my gaze and she nodded toward Cora before mouthing, “Can you believe her?”
A chuckle rose within me, which I managed to disguise as a cough, but Cora wasn’t deterred. When she continued, I tried to ignore her words, but a few of them made my fingers twitch with a need to curl into fists.
“. . . guide her through the temptations she might be facing and lead her away from serpents disguised by heavenly names . . .”
Angel’s lip curled in disgust. She turned heel and retreated back into Phoebe’s room again. She must have taken Cora’s words as a personal insult. I could understand how she might see it that way.
“. . . please hold her safe and determine the right time for her to return to her family . . .”
For over ten minutes, Cora found new things to say—or sometimes new ways to say the same thing—before she finally said, “Amen.”
I repeated the word and thanked her for her thoughtfulness.
“I’ve been praying for that girl’s soul ever since Xavier told me she needed to go away for a little while.”
“Were you with him when he got the phone call?” I asked.
A sad smile crossed her lips. “I was. Poor Xavier was devastated when she was going away, but he understood. We all understood her need to get away from the bad influences in her life.” Her gaze travelled a path to Phoebe’s bedroom door, landing for less than a second before returning to me.
The implication in her statement was clear, but she didn’t know Angel like I did.
Before I could leap to Angel’s defence, Cora spoke again. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, but I feel parent to parent that it’s my obligation. Your daughter had . . . relations with that disgusting driver, Mr Miller.”
“What?” I was stunned not by her revelation, but that she would know—or care—what my adult daughter had done with Beau.
Misinterpreting my shock, Cora nodded solemnly. “Oh yes. Xavier told me when he and Phoebe were just fixing to go steady. I thought about telling him to stay away from her because of it. I didn’t want her trying to seduce my boy. He assured me she wasn’t like that though. She was tricked into it, and was repentant for her actions afterward.”
I found myself in a rare situation for me—at a complete loss for words.
It took a moment to sort her statement into something that made sense. Even then,
it was crazy. I had to confirm I’d heard her right. “You were going to tell your son to stay away from my daughter because she had sex with someone before he was with her?”
“Exactly. My Xavier doesn’t need to get himself involved with wanton women.”
An incredulous laugh bubbled to my lips. “Phoebe is hardly wanton, and even if she was, what’s her sex life got to do with you?”
The way the words rolled off my tongue in conjunction with my little girl was wrong, but that didn’t change my point.
“I don’t think it’s wrong to expect a certain level of decorum from the young ladies my son brings home.”
There were things I could have told her about my past that would probably have left her praying for my soul. I could have even filled her in on the fact that Phoebe was born out of wedlock, but I figured those things would only make her more judgemental. Instead, I went against every instinct I’d ever had and bit my tongue before I said anything to shut her up.
“Of course.” I forced the words out from between my teeth.
“I’m glad you understand. That’s why I think it’s very important we pray Phoebe finds the right path and returns cleansed like she wanted.”
“I’d just be happy to have her home, whatever path it is that leads her there. Hopefully the police will turn something up soon.”
She patted my hand. “Are the police actually looking into it, even after what Phoebe told everyone?”
“I know you might not know my daughter well yet, but I can guarantee this isn’t normal for her. The police are certainly treating it seriously. I’m sure there’ll be more to discuss with them after what happened today, but I can’t really talk too much about it.”
“Of course.”
“They’ll find her,” I said, mostly to reassure myself.
Cora nodded. “If it’s God’s will.”
“Why wouldn’t He want her home where she belongs?” That statement was exactly the sort of reason I found it hard to put my faith in some higher being.
“I’m sure He will. Sometimes it’s not always clear why He’s laid certain paths for us, but there is always a reason.”
It was clear she found comfort in her beliefs, and I couldn’t deny her that. Part of me wished I could hand my worry over to someone else that easily.
“I should be going soon, I need to be home in time to serve dinner for Bee and Xavier.” She stood and touched her hair—as if one of the hairspray-glued pieces could have possibly come loose. While she moved closer to the door, her gaze scanned the apartment. “It’s a rather quaint little place, isn’t it? It’s no wonder your daughter was never overly comfortable here though. It needs a bit of a feminine touch. Maybe I can help redecorate some next time I come around.”
“I’m not planning on changing anything in Phoebe’s life without her consent.”
“I just think there needs to be more pink, and that . . . contraption in the corner needs to go.” She waved in the direction of a gaming system—one that Phoebe would have almost certainly used to hone her skills in preparation of getting on the track.
“That ‘contraption’ is a vital piece of equipment to Phoebe’s position.”
Her eyes widened and her brow dipped. “Do you see her job as a long-term thing?”
“What do you mean?”
Cora’s nose wrinkled. “Surely you want her to give you grandbabies?”
My head spun. She couldn’t talk about sex and had an issue with anything premarital on one hand, but was more than happy to talk about an eighteen-year-old having kids on the other?
“I’m quite content without that,” I said, preferring to avoid the whole part of the conversation where I had to explain that it wasn’t overly likely Phoebe would have kids anyway. At least, not without risking her own life. That was a discussion my daughter needed to have with whoever she chose to spend her life with, and no one else. It would be their choice what happened. I was happy to have no grandkids if it meant Phoebe would be healthier for longer.
“I just don’t understand why so many women are obsessed with taking over in the workplace,” Cora added as she pulled open the door. “If you ask me, the world would be a better place if women just stayed at home.”
I saw that it might not matter how rude or polite I was to Cora. It was likely Phoebe would create enough waves of her own if Cora said anything like that to her. How much time had they spent together already? How had Phoebe kept her mouth shut? She was never good at keeping quiet when she encountered any sexism or misogyny, especially coming from other women.
Memories came to me of a twelve-year-old Phoebe standing with her hands on her hips and arguing with a fourteen-year-old boy at the kart track. When he told her that girls didn’t belong on the track, I’d been certain she was seconds away from decking him. I’d jumped between them to avoid that happening—I had no doubt his parents would get sue-happy if they understood whose daughter had knocked their son on his arse. Instead, I’d instructed her to take it to the track, because actions always spoke louder than words. She’d finished that race first.
I gave Cora a polite farewell—somewhat glad to see the back of her—when she gave me instructions for reheating the food she’d brought. It was the reminder I needed that she was trying to do a nice thing—in her own way at least.
“Thank you, Cora. Let me know how I can get the dish back to you.”
She waved me off. “I’ll come by to pick it up on Friday. You let me know if there’s anything more I can do for you.”
I thanked her again and let her out. Before the door had even shut, my phone rang.
MY HEART THUMPED in my chest. The call was from the police, asking me to come in the next morning to help with officially identifying some objects that could be important to the case. I agreed before they’d even got all the information out, and we set a time for the following day.
“Is the fairy floss on legs gone?” Angel asked, cracking open the door to Phoebe’s room.
“Did you have to disappear so quickly when she arrived?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Mr R, but I couldn’t deal with the condescension. Did you see the look she gave me?”
“Are you sure you’re not reading too much into it? You don’t like her son, you’re hardly going to be warm to her.”
She rolled her eyes. “I liked Xavier well enough. I just think he’s wrong when he says Phoebe is still with him. I believe Beau. Besides, what else do you think she meant by all that garbage about ‘guide her from serpents disguised by heavenly names’?” Angel clutched imaginary pearls and mimicked Cora’s tone as she repeated the words.
“What makes you so sure she meant you?”
Angel raised a brow at me. “Uh, hello, Angel.” She flourished her hands around her face. “What’s more fucking heavenly than that? Besides, I have no doubt Xavier told her that I’m some evil lesbian tyring to corrupt poor innocent Phoebe to our hedonistic lifestyle.” She blanched, no doubt realising what she had said and how candidly she’d said it. She’d never been one for beating around the bush—especially when it came to Phoebe’s happiness—but she was never usually quite so forthright with me or Alyssa.
Her words showed there was a deeper scar, and I wanted to help her with it. The scars we carried often became weapons against others. “Why would Xavier have said that?”
“Because he caught Phoebe and me watching a movie.”
“Ah!” I’d seen the twisted pretzel positions those two curled into during almost every activity. The touches were always innocent enough—they did it even when we were watching movies as a family—but I could see how they could be misinterpreted.
“He was disgusted, and made no secret of his distaste for me.” Tears welled in her eyes.
A small voice whispered that maybe Xavier’s reaction was why Angel’s opinion of him was so bleak. Still, it wasn’t like her to let someone else’s view colour her day, and I wasn’t about to let her dwell. “Angel, you’re awesome just the way you are. You k
now that, don’t you? That’s why Phoebe’s your best friend.”
She dropped her chin to her chest and started to cry.
Out of instinct and habit, I drew her into my arms and shushed her while stroking her hair. “We’ll find her,” I repeated. The mantra was the only thing keeping me sane.
“I’m lost without her. Especially now.” She sobbed the words against my shoulder before drawing back and rubbing the back of her hands over her eyes to dry away the tears.
“What’s happening now?”
She broke loose of my hold and went to the kitchen. “It’s nothing. I just . . . I just need my best friend.”
She practically ripped the fridge door off its hinges to get inside.
“I know I’m just her daggy father”—I raised my brow and gave her a goofy smile—“but I can help too, you know?”
“It’s nothing,” she said again, grabbing a can of soft drink before slamming the fridge door shut.
“Well, let’s assume it’s not nothing for the sake of Phoebe’s refrigerator and other white goods, shall we?”
Angel’s lips curled downward again. “Jamie broke up with me.”
And just like that, she issued a fresh flood of tears. Before I could ask any questions or offer any sympathy, Angel spoke again.
“She said I was selfish for being here instead of at my shoot.”
I nodded, unsure exactly what to do in this situation. As far as I knew, Phoebe had never had her heart broken until the arsehole here in the States, and Phoebe had always been there for Angel.
“She did it by email.” Angel slammed the drink onto the kitchen counter. “The fucking bitch. I knew things were shaky during the last couple of phone calls, but I never imagined she’d break up with me by email.”
She turned her stare onto me, searching for something, but fuck me if I knew what.
“I’m sorry, I’m a little lost here,” I admitted. “I mean, I’m not used to this heartbroken girl stuff. Is there something you need me to get for you? Something we need to do?”
Decay (Phoebe Reede: The Untold #3.2 Declan Reede: The Untold Story #6) Page 10
