by Vicki Essex
But in fact, he was leaving something important behind. Tiffany had chosen to help her parents with their business over spending time with him. This was a good thing, he told himself staunchly. Maybe she was finally finding her place here and changing her mind about Everville. She might even find a reason to stay.
* * *
“YOU PACKED WATER, RIGHT?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“And a blanket? Flares? A road map?”
“Mom, I’m only driving to New Jersey.”
“But you’ll stop at least once for a break, right? You can’t stay on the road if you’re sleepy, you know.”
Tiffany summoned her patience. It was because Daniel was gone that Rose hovered. “I’ll be fine.”
“You probably thought that on your way driving here, and look how that turned out.” She shook her head. “Why couldn’t you take the bus instead?”
“Mom. I have to go now or I’m going to be late for the interview.”
“Right. Of course.” She looked her over, frowned. “You’re not going to wear that to your interview, are you?”
“Ah-Teen—” Poh-poh scurried after her and handed her a plastic bag “—cha siu bow.”
Tiffany opened up the bag. A cloud of steam rose from the fresh barbecue pork buns within. “I thought you gave Daniel the last ones?”
Sunny made a noise that was half tsk, half snort. “Of course I saved some for you. Ah-Day looked like he needed to feel special, though, so I lied.”
She laughed and bussed her grandmother’s cheek and got in the car. She dropped her mother off at the diner. Her father had gone in earlier to do some prep work.
“Are you sure you don’t want to pop in and say hello to Dad?” Rose asked as Tiffany pulled up to the curb.
“Nah. Just tell him hi for me. I don’t want him to feel like both his kids are abandoning him.” She knew how petulant her father could be. “I’ll be back by dinnertime.” Part of her thought this would be a good opportunity to hang out in the city, eat at her favorite restaurant and enjoy the nightlife. But she couldn’t afford to stay overnight, and she didn’t want to drive home in the dark.
Her mother wished her good luck and shut the door. She settled herself, readjusted her mirrors and put on a nice long driving playlist on her iPod. “Magic Carpet Ride” came on, energizing her. She turned on her signal, checked her mirrors and started pulling away from the curb.
And nearly plowed straight into Simon as he crossed the street.
She jammed on the brakes and was thrown hard against her seat belt. He’d frozen midstep, and stared back at her wide-eyed. Her heart pumped hard. She started to lift her hand in a wave, but then realized she’d told the Jamiesons she’d be working.
He smiled tentatively and made some motions with his hands that clearly asked, “What’s up?”
Tiffany didn’t have a response. All the neurons in her brain were firing blanks.
Putting the car in gear once more, she pulled around him in a wide arc and sped toward New Jersey.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TIFFANY DIDN’T COME HOME in time for dinner. In fact, she didn’t come home until nearly eleven, after her mother and grandmother had been whipped into a frenzy.
“Why didn’t you call?” her mother demanded as she dropped her purse on the sofa. “Poh-poh was scared you were in another car accident.”
Tiffany settled her hands over her grandmother’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Grandma. I’m okay. Really.” She couldn’t hide her smile any longer and took her mother’s hand. “I got the job.”
Sunny and Rose cheered and clapped their hands. They looked genuinely happy for her, and real pride swelled in Tiffany. She’d half expected they’d accuse her of abandoning the family. But they didn’t. Instead, they settled her at the kitchen table, pulling out all the dinner leftovers from the fridge and insisting she eat and tell them about the new position.
She would start next week. Caitlyn wanted her in as soon as possible, and was so enthusiastic about having her work there that she’d gone ahead and arranged a few showings for apartments in the area with friends’ properties. Tiffany couldn’t say no to such an accommodating boss, so she’d happily gone on a whirlwind apartment hunt. That was why she’d been so late getting home.
It wasn’t until close to midnight that she had a moment to think about Chris. Now wasn’t the best time to be telling him her news. He was probably still at the wedding reception, dancing with a bridesmaid and taking advantage of the open bar. Or cruising along the Strip in a limo. Or winning big money at a high-stakes poker game at the Bellagio, all while wearing a tuxedo and flashing fancy silver cuff links.
She smiled at the thought, because she could hardly imagine Chris doing any of those things. When she pictured him, it was always in jeans and a T-shirt, boots caked with dirt, sweat on his brow and bits of grass caught in the dark gold stubble on his dimpled chin. She tried to imagine him rumbling away on his old motorcycle, but it didn’t seem to fit with his persona anymore. The boy she’d crushed on had grown into a man she was falling for....
A full-body shudder rippled through her like an earthquake. She wasn’t falling for him. She’d had a crush, sure, and sex with him had been phenomenal. But she wouldn’t say she was in the L word with him. The L word required an ability to see a future together. And she didn’t. She was heading to New Jersey and her dream of becoming an editor at a big publishing house.
But first, she’d have to tell Chris.
A sour taste filled her mouth and her heart palpitated. She sat down hard. Maybe she was getting sick.
A glance at the clock, and she decided she could wait to tell him her news. He’d be back tomorrow afternoon. He’d be jet-lagged, but it was better she tell him sooner rather than later. She’d have to break the news to Simon, too. Another doubt smacked her between the eyes: How was he going to cope through the rest of school?
You don’t need to worry about him. He’ll be fine. He’s responsible for himself.
Of course he was, the same way Chris was responsible for his own well-being and she was responsible for hers. She hadn’t promised Simon anything, either.
Not that that made her feel better.
* * *
SHE DROVE TO THE farm the following afternoon. Chris’s flight was scheduled to arrive at the airport at 2:30 p.m. Tiffany wanted to be there when he came home.
William was sitting stiffly on the porch in an old ladder-back chair. It didn’t look comfortable. His palms were planted on his upper thighs, and he watched her with a cold expression.
“Hello, Mr. Jamieson,” she greeted. He nodded in response, unsmiling. She waited for him to invite her in or tell her where Chris or Simon was, but he simply sat there. “Is Chris home yet?”
“No.”
“Oh.” She looked at her watch. “How about Simon? Is he around?”
The old man inclined his chin and nodded toward the barn. “You’ll find him in there.”
“Thanks.” She hesitated, wondering if she should ask if everything was okay. He was probably just feeling grouchy. The weather had been somewhat oppressive lately, gray and wet with a leaden sky.
Simon was cleaning the horse stalls. He had his earbuds in and his MP3 player blared some loud hip-hop beats. She approached and called his name, but he didn’t respond. She touched his shoulder and he turned. Hurt and betrayal clouded his features and his eyes became two hard stones.
“How’s it going?” she asked brightly. He lifted a lip in a sneer and turned back to his work without acknowledging her. An uneasy feeling settled in her chest. “Simon? What’s wrong? Did you get your summer school marks?”
He still didn’t respond. Her stomach pitched. Oh, no. He’d failed. No, she’d failed him. She hadn’t adequately prepared him for the essay portion of the exam, had she? She’d seen he had some difficulty expressing himself on paper. Why hadn’t she worked on that more?
“The exam?” she asked tentatively, dread dragging her sp
irits to the ground.
A pitchfork full of manure scattered across her sandaled feet and she squeaked. “Hey!” She shook off her toes.
“I got an A-minus on the exam,” he blurted. “I passed the course with a B-plus.”
“Simon, that’s fantastic. Congratulations.” The clenching of her stomach eased. Thank God.
But still he would not look at her. Another steaming pile nearly landed on her toes.
“Simon, what is it? What’s your problem?”
“My problem? What’s your problem?” He finished with the stall and went to wheel the full barrow out.
Part of her wanted to believe he was mad at her for almost running him over, but she had the sickening feeling it was something much worse than that. Before she could explain why she hadn’t been at the restaurant yesterday, he’d disappeared around the corner, obviously in no mood to talk.
She walked back toward the house. William was still on the porch, and as she approached, he gave her a long, steady look. “What’s going on with Simon?” she asked.
“Not talking to you, is he?” He said it matter-of-factly, and his tone grated.
“Is it something I did?”
“What do you think?” He picked up his crutches and eased out of the chair, hobbling inside slowly.
She followed him into the kitchen, guilt and anxiety making her fidget. “I’m guessing he’s mad about something I did—”
He whipped around, eyes blazing. “What are your intentions with my son, Miss Cheung?”
Her throat closed. “My intentions?”
“You told Chris you couldn’t attend that wedding in Vegas with him because you were helping your parents at the diner. Then my grandson spots you hotfooting it out of town and finds out you were driving to New Jersey for the weekend. Do you have any explanation for that?”
Dammit. She should have explained herself from the start. “I was going to a job interview.”
“I know. Your parents told him. So, let me ask you, why are you involving yourself with my family if all you intend to do is leave?”
“What are you talking about? I never said anything to make them think—”
“You told Simon you’d help him find an internship. You promised you’d be here for him.” His eyes burned with cold fire. “How could you do that to him? Don’t you know what his mother’s like?”
With a sinking feeling, she realized he was right. She’d made promises she couldn’t keep. She’d told Simon she’d help him figure out his future. She’d told him he had a lot of time. But she didn’t. Not enough to be there for him the way he needed her to be.
The contempt in the old man’s hard expression made her feel lower than dirt. “I’ve had to endure a lot of grief since Daphne left,” William said, locking his hands together. “I carried this family through some of the toughest times we’ve had to face. I raised Chris on my own after his mama died, and then I raised Simon while Chris dealt with his divorce.” His glare nearly sliced her in half. “We don’t need another woman drifting in and out of our lives. My son and grandson have been stomped on plenty enough. I don’t need to be picking up the pieces after you leave and break their hearts.”
Her stomach clenched. “I swear, it’s not like that—”
“Don’t you dare lie to me.” His face reddened. “You always planned on leaving. I knew the moment I set eyes on you that you thought you were better than us, better than your family and far too good for Everville. You’re a selfish girl, and you don’t know anything about commitment or love.” He shook his head. “I thought it was in your culture to be cruel. But I see it now. It’s you.”
William’s proclamation knocked the breath out of her. Tears built in her throat, the pain of the truth nearly choking her.
He wasn’t done yet. “I’ve seen you with Chris and Simon. Playing at something you’re not, pretending you care. But you don’t give a damn. They’re only a means to an end.” His face was purple now, and spittle flew from his mouth. “You don’t think about how you make them feel, how you change things around here. But I see it every day you come. The way Simon tries to hide how much he wants to please you. And Chris...all you’ve done is make him happy and give him hope. Well, what’s going to happen when you leave? How do you think he’ll feel when you tell him he’s not good enough to keep you?” His anguish showed clearly on his face. “You’re a heartless bitch. I pity any man who wants to be with you.”
“What’s going on here?”
Chris stood in the doorway, his suitcase on the ground. His hair was mussed and dark circles hung beneath his eyes. The floor beneath her wobbled. She took a tentative step forward, but stopped herself. She wanted to throw her arms around him and hold him back, explain it all, get him away from this crucible of anger. But she could see the flexing of his hands and knew from the darkening of his features that he’d heard everything.
He strode in front of his father, placing Tiff behind him. “I can’t leave here for a day without you pulling some kind of garbage, can I?”
Oh, no. He must not have heard everything. “Chris, please, it’s all right.” Tears blurred her voice, and she struggled to clear them from her throat. “Let me explain—”
“No. It’s not all right. It was never all right. You don’t deserve to be treated like this.” He cupped her cheek tenderly. The fire burning in his red-rimmed blue eyes made her want to cry.
He whipped back around to face William and stabbed a finger into his chest.
“You don’t say those things to Tiffany. Ever. You don’t say those things to anyone. You don’t get to judge her, or me, or Simon or anyone else, do you hear?”
William slapped his hand aside. “How dare you. Don’t you point and accuse me. You have no idea—”
“Shut up. I’m sick of hearing you talk and making excuses and telling me about the way things were. Wake up, Dad. Things change. The world changes. And you’ve been so stubborn about how they should be that you can’t see how they could be.” He half turned toward Tiffany. “I love this woman. I don’t care what you think about that.”
Tiffany gasped. Love her? No, no, Chris couldn’t love her. She covered her mouth, sick to her stomach.
“You’re a damned fool,” William rasped harshly. “She won’t make you happy. She won’t do anything but leave your sorry ass.”
Chris lost it. He grabbed his father by the shoulders and shoved him against the wall. His crutches clattered to the ground. Tiffany screamed.
William’s face flushed dark red, then purple, then drained of all color. He was sweating profusely, and he made a grunting noise.
“Chris, stop!” Tiffany hauled on his steel-cable arm. “Something’s wrong.”
He let go, and the old man slumped to the floor, clutching his chest, breathing heavily, his eyes going distant with pain.
Chris’s hands trembled as he fell to his knees next to his father. “Call 9-1-1.”
* * *
THEY KEPT WILLIAM COMFORTABLE until the paramedics arrived. He was still awake and breathing as they strapped him into the gurney, but he clutched his chest and moaned in pain. Chris rode in the ambulance with his father. Tiffany followed with Simon in her car.
The teen didn’t say anything as he glared out the passenger-side window. She could smell the acrid fear coming off him, but she didn’t try to placate him with meaningless words or platitudes. And she didn’t think it was appropriate to try to explain herself while William could be dying.
She had too much on her mind to form a coherent thought anyhow. Chris’s declaration had sideswiped her. How could he possibly love her? Why did he have to tell her before she’d had a chance to give them both the out they needed? Then she thought about what William had said and realized he was right—she was cold and selfish. She was more worried about telling Chris about her new job than she was about William’s health.
When they arrived at the E.R., the nurse informed them William was being taken into surgery. Chris was with his father
now as he was being prepped. The nurse let Simon in to see him, but because Tiffany wasn’t family, she had to stay in the waiting room.
She perched on a chair, hands clutched in her lap. It was almost two hours before Chris and Simon reappeared, both of them looking weary.
She stood shakily. Chris went straight to her, and though he engulfed her in his arms, she realized he was seeking comfort more than offering it. The smell of stale sweat and antiseptic soap wafted from his skin. Delicately, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Simon glared at her over his father’s shoulder.
“My father had a heart attack,” Chris told her bleakly. “They said it’s pretty bad. He’s going to need a double bypass. Surgery’s going to take a while.” His voice sounded distant and hollow. “This is all my fault.”
“No, it’s not.” She gripped his forearms. “He had high blood pressure and other health problems. You didn’t cause this.”
He shook his head, not believing her. If anyone was to blame for all this, it was Tiffany. She’d been the one William was yelling at before Chris had stepped in.
“Do you want me to drive you back to the farm?” she asked. “You could get a shower, a change of clothes.”
“No. I want to stay in case—” He cut himself off. “Simon should go back, though. He could grab a book or something.”
The teen turned his full glare on Tiffany. “I’m not going anywhere with her.” He stormed off.
“Simon—” Before he could even ask, his son had disappeared out the E.R. doors. “What is going on around here?” Chris forked both hands through his hair. His knees gave out as he dropped into a chair, exhausted, as though he’d aged ten years in the past few hours.
It was time to fess up. She hated that she had to do it now, but it wouldn’t be any better after William was out of surgery.
“I have something to tell you,” she began unsteadily. She sat next to him and tried for a smile to soften the blow. “I got a job.”
It took him a moment to process that. “That’s great. Where?”
“In New Jersey. I’m starting next Monday.”
