New York Engagement (Carpe Diem Chronicles 1.5)

by Maida Malby

  “Krista, sweetie, it’s kind of you to come and offer support. Isn’t that right, Belen?” Giulia’s not-so-subtle inquiry held mild rebuke.

  The response was begrudgingly polite. “Yes, thank you, Krista.”

  “Please don’t mention it, Mrs. O’Connor. You and your husband are important to Blake, and now to me as well.”

  Giulia waved a hand in the air. “What’s all this formality then? You must call them Tita Belen and Uncle Jack, like all my kids do.”

  No wonder Blake feared his mother. Krista had never met a more decisive woman. Obviously, her boyfriend had inherited his managing ways from her. Aidan, too. They must have learned from the cradle.

  “That’s fine with me,” Belen agreed, then stood abruptly. “Excuse me. I’ll check on John.” Without waiting for a response, she left the three of them gaping at her.

  Giulia turned to Krista, her brows knotted in puzzlement. “She’s distraught. Belen is usually ...” She trailed off, giving a helpless shrug.

  Krista understood. Anything Giulia added would only magnify Belen’s rude behavior towards her. For a second, Krista considered being petty by remaining silent and letting Giulia think poorly of her friend. But that would shame her mother and all that she’d taught her daughter.

  She moved to sit beside Blake’s mother. Touching Giulia’s hand, she said, “I understand. It’s a challenging time for her. And I’m still very much a stranger.”

  Giulia quickly denied the assertion. “You’re already one of us, sweetie.” She patted her hands. “I’ve never seen my son happier. And that’s because of you.”

  Krista beamed at the statement. “Blake has been good for me as well. He’s taken me out of my shell, encouraged me to experience new things.”

  She’d undergone a transformation in Boracay, both in the physical sense and in mindset. Her friends might have given her the initial push with their attempts at a makeover, but it had ultimately been Krista’s decision to take chances and live her life to the fullest. Blake’s love for her had boosted the ever-growing confidence she had in herself.

  “Speaking of whom, where is the darling boy?”

  Sean answered. “He said he’d check the blood donation process. He should be back soon.”

  Krista turned in the direction she’d last seen Blake. Sure enough, he was approaching from the area marked “Blood Bank.” He wore a scowl, a rare sight these days.

  “What’s wrong?” Krista asked when he slumped beside her.

  “They’re not open until eight. The service desk was empty, and nobody knew anything about options other than wait,” he replied, brusque. “We have to sit on our asses while Uncle Jack fights for his life.” His hand clenched.

  Krista eyed the wall clock. Quarter to five. Her body craved sleep, but she was needed here. And she wanted to know more about Jack O’Connor. She had a feeling he’d lead her to her biological father.

  Her gaze shifted to Blake’s parents. Giulia’s head nestled on Sean’s shoulder. So sweet. They looked exhausted, though. Dark rings shadowed both sets of eyes, and both had skin that was pale and lined with worry. She turned to Blake, but he was already talking to his parents.

  “Da, Ma, you should go home, get some rest. Krista and I will wait here for Aidan and Ronan, and keep Tita Belen company.” He held Krista’s hand. “We’ll help out at the pub tonight, is that okay with you, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, of course.” Her smile encompassed all three Ryans.

  Sean tipped his head in acknowledgment of the suggestion and stood, holding out his hand to assist his wife to her feet. Blake did the same for Krista.

  “Give Belen a hug from us, and call us if there’s news, sweetie,” Giulia told her son after embracing them both. “Try to get some rest while you wait.” She looked around the room, at a woman retching by the trash can, and grimaced. After another gentle pat on Krista’s arm, she left with her husband.

  CHAPTER FIVE - Upper West Side

  Blake observed Krista as they returned to their seats. Pink tinted her cheeks, and light brightened her eyes. He shook off his frustration over the blood donation and asked, “What got you excited?”

  Krista grabbed his hands and squeezed them. “Honey, your Uncle Jack was based in Clark in the mid-to-late eighties. Da told me.”

  Blake blinked, surprised. That was, indeed, important information. Marissa Lopez had spent a single night with an American airman who saved her from would-be rapists. Krista was the result of that sexual encounter.

  The officer disappeared in the middle of the night, while Krista’s mother was sleeping in her small apartment where she’d taken him to tend to his wounds. Marissa had looked for her lover when she realized she was pregnant but didn’t find him.

  Without access to the base, Krista’s mother had had to wait for John to visit the restaurant where she worked. He never showed, making her think he’d either been deployed, re-assigned, or worse, had been killed in the line of duty. She’d left town before her condition became noticeable. If John was still alive and had returned to Clark, Krista’s mom wouldn’t have known it.

  “I also heard Mrs. O’Connor refer to her husband as John.”

  Blake had noticed that, too. It held no significance to him, so he’d dismissed it as something intimate shared between husband and wife. To Krista, it meant something else.

  “So, Uncle Jack was in the US Air Force, assigned to Clark around the time you were conceived, the two of you have the same blood type, and he is also named John,” he recited the possible evidence. Krista’s hopeful face reflected the inference she’d made. “Are you thinking he might be your biological father?” he asked, allowing his skepticism to show in his voice.

  Her forehead creased. “My first thought was your Uncle Jack could know John, might have served with him. But the more I’ve learned, the more I think they could be the same person. My mom is O negative. I could only have gotten the B negative from my birth father.” She shook their joined hands. “Blake, those are the only clues I have. For them to line up so perfectly is more than just a coincidence, don’t you think?”

  She’d never indicated a desire to look for her father until now. What little information she’d gathered had Krista reaching the conclusion she desired the most: for Jack to be John. But that would be too easy, too convenient.

  As much as he understood her desire to get some answers to questions about her identity and heritage, he wanted her to exercise caution. He feared that her hopes would be dashed, that her heart might be broken.

  Looking at his beloved’s face, he couldn’t bring himself to dampen her optimism by airing his doubts. He’d be unhappy if he was responsible for Krista’s misery. He didn’t want their Christmas to be blue.

  Blake brought her closer for a hug. “You’re right: it does all align. Unfortunately, we’ll have to wait to get any more concrete proof.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder. “Do they live far?”

  “Who?”

  She straightened and peered at him as if she thought her change of subject shouldn’t have confused him. “Ma and Da, where do they stay?”

  “They have a brownstone in the Upper West Side. It’s been in Da’s family since his parents arrived in the twenties. I didn’t want to overwhelm you on your first meeting with my parents; that’s why I booked us a room at The Plaza rather than stay with them.”

  “Oh. Of course. Thanks.” With a wave of her hand, she accepted his explanation. It paused mid-air as if she’d taken back the dismissal. “Wait, is there something in the house you don’t want me to see?”

  Blake groaned. “My mom still has all my childhood mementos displayed all over the place. All of ours, particularly Aidan’s. Mr. Over-Achiever’s medals and trophies could fetch a tidy sum at the pawnshop if our parents ever needed funds.” He kissed her forehead. “I don’t want you to be so impressed with all his accolades that you’ll throw me over for him.”

  She made a cute face, her nose scrunching up. “No
t gonna happen. He won’t pass with my parents. Certainly not with my mom.”

  Blake was only joking when he’d said it, but relief filled him at her preference for him over his brother. In the past, he’d always lost to Aidan, whether with girls or competitions.

  “I think I’ll keep you even if you only got participation trophies.” Krista winked at him. “Oh, and Maddie would kill me,” she added, her eyes gleaming with humor at the mention of her best friend.

  “Why would the lovely Ms. Duvall kill you? Did you scold her for arriving late to a meeting?”

  Krista jumped up with a squeal at the unexpected question behind her. Blake stood too, happy that his older brother had finally arrived.

  “Aidan. It’s great to see you. How have you been?” Krista accepted a hug, delight in seeing somebody she knew evident in her wide smile.

  “Doing fine. Until today.”

  Blake could have kicked him for erasing Krista’s good humor. She paled again at the curt reminder of where they were and the reason behind their presence there: Uncle Jack. He stepped closer to Krista and held her hand.

  “Did you and Ronan get the scum who put Uncle Jack on the operating table?” He had every confidence in Aidan, a lieutenant colonel in the US Air Force, and their friend, a detective with the New York Police Department. Nobody messed with their family and got away with it.

  “Yes.” Disgust laced Aidan’s voice. “We had to double back, but we eventually found him. He was so high, he didn’t get far from the pub. It looked like Uncle Jack got a few licks in before the fucker stabbed him. Sorry, Krista.” He added the last when she visibly winced at the harsh language.

  “It’s fine. I’ve heard worse.” She waved dismissively before sitting back down.

  Blake smiled at the blatant lie. Growing up in a provincial town far from the big city, with a schoolteacher for an adoptive father, Krista had had a genteel and sheltered upbringing. The worst curse she’d ever said in his presence was “shit,” and even that she’d only uttered under her breath.

  “Where’s the perp now?” He inclined his head, signaling his brother to move out of Krista’s hearing.

  “At Midtown South. Ronan’s partner made the arrest.”

  By the book. He’d thought so. Being the victim’s son, Ronan couldn’t be the arresting officer. “Did he resist?”

  “Yeah.”

  The unholy glee in the one-word answer told the tale. Jack O’Connor’s son was able to exact a measure of revenge against the man who had stabbed his father. Blake bumped fists with Aidan.

  “Speaking of Ro— There he is.” Blake stepped forward to exchange back slaps with his friend. His weary and much-too-lean friend.

  “Thanks for being here,” Ronan said. “You didn’t have to come. You couldn’t have gotten more than a couple hours of sleep. Aidan said you only arrived last night.”

  “Not a bother. Family comes first.”

  “Appreciate it, Blake. Mom and Dad do too, I’m sure.” He scrubbed a hand over his face as if to wipe off the fleeting expression of vulnerability he’d exposed at the mention of his father. “Heard you got yourself caught,” he said after a few seconds of awkward silence.

  Blake grinned. “I did. She’s here. I’ll introduce you.”

  “For real?” Ronan craned his neck to see around him. Blake turned aside to give him a clear view.

  Ronan’s eyebrows met in the middle when he caught sight of Krista. “She’s mixed,” he said without inflection.

  If the tone had been insulting, Blake would have taken Ronan to task. As it was merely a statement of fact, he let it go. After all, Ronan was of mixed race, too.

  Krista had risen to her feet as she saw them approach. Blake curled his arm around his girlfriend’s waist when he reached her side. She met Ronan’s fixed gaze steadily.

  “Krista, I’d like you to meet Ronan O’Connor. Ronan, Krista Lopez.”

  Blake watched Krista closely while he made the introduction. Her eyes widened when she heard Ronan’s last name.

  “Maganda’ng umaga, Krista. I’m pleased to meet you.” Ronan greeted her “Good morning,” in Filipino. He extended his hand.

  Krista’s lips curved, showing her delight in hearing her native language spoken. She accepted Ronan’s handshake graciously. “It’s nice to meet you too, Ronan. I wish the circumstances were better. I’m praying for your dad’s quick recovery.”

  Ronan stared at Krista’s face intently before responding with a simple, “Thank you.”

  A buzzing sound came from the direction of Ronan’s back pocket. He pulled his hand from Krista’s clasp to reach for it. Without looking at it, he pressed a thumb to silence the vibration. He addressed all three of them but took another lingering look at Krista. “I gotta go. Duty calls. See you at the pub later.”

  CHAPTER SIX - Times Square

  Beside Krista, her boyfriend muttered, “When did he grow up?” almost to himself. They’d sat back down after Ronan left. Except for Aidan. He leaned against the wall in the space between two rows of chairs.

  Meeting Jack O’Connor’s son had been ... interesting. She hadn’t known what to expect from him after his mother’s coldness. He wasn’t warm, but he wasn’t antagonistic, either. He kept looking at her mouth. What was that about?

  “How are you doing, love?” Blake inquired, noticing her silence.

  “I’m fine. Resting,” Krista replied. “Is he a cop, Ronan?” He looked like the ones she occasionally saw on TV. Leather jacket, longish hair, stubble, flat eyes, world-weary air. He looked anywhere from twenty-five to twenty-eight years old. Like his mother, he had a serious disposition. Ronan resembled Belen O’Connor in everything but height. With Krista’s boots on, they were both six feet tall.

  “Yeah. He graduated from the academy right before I left for the Philippines. I’ve only seen him a couple of times since, when I came home for Christmas. Usually just on our birthdays.”

  “Whose? Yours and Ronan’s?”

  “No, sweetheart. Tita Belen’s and mine. Like you two.” Blake glanced between her and his brother. “Her real birthday is the 25th, but because of the time difference, she celebrates it here on the Eve, same as me. It’s been our families’ tradition to close the pub early and have a combined céili and noche buena.”

  “Oh, of course. Belen in Tagalog means the nativity. Duh.” Krista slapped a hand on her forehead. “Sorry.”

  He dismissed the apology with a squeeze of her hand.

  In their nearly-two-month relationship, they had often talked about their immediate families: her parents and two siblings, Farrah and Alex; and his parents, and Aidan, Craig, and Darcy. He’d mentioned the O’Connors often, but not in detail. Even if he had, the other family simply hadn’t registered with her. She wished now she’d paid more attention.

  “We’ll keep it low-key this year.”

  “Probably for the best. We don’t know what Uncle Jack’s condition will be in two days,” Aidan said, moving to sit beside Krista.

  A new group had spilled into the waiting room. Literally. The men were falling on their butts on the floor, cursing and laughing uproariously. The women, in glittery short dresses showing underneath faux-fur coats, were slip-sliding in their towering stilettoes. Even from several feet away, the unpleasant mix of cheap perfume and copious amounts of alcohol reeked from them.

  Krista returned her attention to the Ryan brothers who were talking over her head.

  “Why do you say that? What’d you learn?” Blake asked his brother. “Tita Belen hasn’t come back from the CCU, so we don’t have an update yet.”

  “Nothing new. Still in a coma. Heard the blood loss was severe. They’ve been giving him transfusions, but his response is slow,” Aidan replied. “Ronan called Tita Belen while we were on the way here,” he further explained when he saw their questioning looks.

  Krista couldn’t help herself. She blurted out, “Is there any way you can get the blood bank opened early? My blood is the same type as your u
ncle’s. I’d like to donate, if it’ll help wake him up.”

  “Baby, I already tried.” Blake’s tone held barely concealed pique.

  Krista ignored him, keeping her gaze on Aidan. She’d soothe Blake’s hurt pride later, after she had helped the man who could possibly be her biological father.

  Aidan’s eyes flicked from one to the other. After what seemed like hours, even though it was only a few seconds, he spoke. “I’ll see what I can do.” He stood and sauntered away to the west side of the building, in the opposite direction from the blood bank.

  “He’s going the wrong way,” Krista observed, brows furrowed in confusion.

  “No. He’s going where I should have gone earlier: the hospital administration.” Blake’s scowl matched the one he wore when they’d fought over telling their officemates about their relationship. That time, like this one, her actions had irritated him. He clearly felt slighted that she had asked his brother to help where he had failed.

  Krista touched his arm. “I’m sorry, hon. I just want—”

  “I know. A lieutenant colonel in the air force has more clout than me, a mere CEO of a billion-dollar corporation. I get it.”

  The sharp bite in Blake’s tone raised Krista’s hackles. She balled her fists and scooted away. “I believe in maximizing all available resources, and your brother is a handy one right now.”

  “I already said I understood. There’s no need to rub it in my face.” Blake jumped to his feet and declared, “I’m gonna go grab some coffee. Are you okay until Aidan gets back?”

  “I’ll be fine. If you could bring me back some orange juice and a sandwich with eggs and spinach, I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”

  He grunted an acknowledgment of her order and left.

  Krista could have gone with Blake, but his pissy mood annoyed her. Better to keep their distance until his temper cooled. She was usually the ill-tempered one in the morning before her first coffee, but today, her boyfriend rivaled her in grouchiness.

  Her mind wandered back to Jack O’Connor. Do I look like him? They said girls oftentimes resembled their fathers more than their mothers. That was how everyone in their small town had come to the conclusion that Krista wasn’t Arsenio Lopez’s natural daughter. She stood almost a head taller than him, and her Anglo facial features looked nothing like his broad Malay-dominant countenance.