Ask Mariah (25 page)

"It could work," Linda said. "Although Sophia rarely says no to Vincent. If he wants to go she'll probably go."

He thought for a minute. He tried to think of something that would keep his mother in town, and Joanna's face drifted through his mind. No, he couldn't bring her into it. She was the reason Vincent wanted to leave.

"What are you thinking, Tony?" Linda asked.

"It wouldn't work."

"What wouldn't work?"

He hesitated, then plunged ahead. "Mama seems obsessed with talking to that woman -- Joanna Wingate -- the one who looks like Angela."

"No," Frank said immediately. "You heard Papa the other night. He doesn't want Mama to have anything to do with her. This woman does not concern us in any way."

"I'm not so sure about that. I'll tell you something else. Papa didn't get this idea to leave town until Joanna came to the house this morning."

"It's a coincidence," Frank said.

"Just like it's a coincidence that Joanna looks like Angela?" Tony asked. "That's a stretch."

"There is no possible way that woman is part of our family," Frank said. "And you will not bring up her name at the party or use her as an excuse to keep Mama in town. I'd rather tell them the truth. But if you want to try the babysitting excuse, fine. I have work to do."

"I think Frank is in for a rude awakening," he said as his brother returned to the kitchen.

"I'm not sure he could take one," Linda replied. "He wears his last name like a shield. Every decision he makes is based on how it will affect the family, not just me and the kids, but your parents, you, Michael, the cousins, everyone."

"Frank does not worry about me."

"He used to, and Angela, as well. He takes his big brother responsibilities very seriously. In fact, he takes all of his responsibilities seriously. He just seems to have forgotten that there's supposed to be some love and fun in there along with duty."

"Are you two all right?"

"I don't know.  I want to feel the way I used to feel," she said with a wistful sigh. "I want the excitement, the passion, that first glance, that first look, that first shiver,"

"Linda, you're married.  How long can excitement last?"

"Obviously not long enough. Maybe you're right to stay single, Tony. You can always have that first look, that first tingle of excitement."

"Yeah, I can have it every night of the week, but sometimes I'd like to be with someone who knows me really well so I don't have to put on a show, I don't have to figure out where she wants to be touched."

Linda shook her finger at him. "Don't you dare try to get Helen back."

He took a step back in surprise. "Who said I was talking about Helen?"

"Tony, I've known you and Helen for a long time. If you think Frank and I got boring, believe me, you and Helen would do the same. You make great friends, but she doesn't set your soul on fire."

"How do you know that?"

"Because if she made you feel like that, you never would have stayed away an entire year. I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you." Tony's gaze drifted over to Kathleen, who was folding napkins in the corner. He had a feeling if anyone could set his soul on fire, it would be her. He also had a feeling he'd end up with third-degree burns.

Too risky, he decided. Despite what Linda had said, he knew he couldn't leave town without giving Helen one more chance to change her mind.

Sophia entered her house, nearly tripping over the suitcase in front of the door. She grabbed on to the side table to stop herself from falling. "What on earth is going on?" she muttered.

Vincent emerged from the kitchen, dressed casually in pale gray slacks and a white polo shirt. He looked energized, more alive than she'd seen him in a long time.

"Where are you going?" Sophia asked in confusion.

"Not me -- us. We're going on a trip."

"Pardon me?"

"A vacation, a long-awaited romantic weekend for two." He walked over to her, slid his hands around her waist, and twirled her around with a laugh. "I had the most wonderful idea today, Sophia."

"Put me down, Vincent," she said, feeling breathless and unsettled by his exuberance.

Reluctantly he did so. She smoothed the skirt of her dress, trying to calm her rapid heart. Vincent didn't like surprises. He never made secret plans for a getaway weekend. In all the years they'd been married, he'd never once arranged for a baby-sitter. She had always been the one to plan their trips, to decide where they were going. His behavior was completely out of character. Something had happened.

"I'm taking you away for our anniversary," Vincent said. "I've made reservations at the Miramar in Santa Barbara. We'll drive down the coast this afternoon. I've booked us a room overlooking the ocean with one of those fireplaces that you like."

"It's summer," she said weakly, knowing the fireplace was the least of her problems.

"Then we'll have to try the Jacuzzi bathtub instead," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

God, he looked so young and loving, passionate. She'd forgotten he could look like this -- that he could act like this. Maybe that's all it was -- an act.

This wasn't about their anniversary, she realized. It was about Joanna. Vincent had realized that anger and orders weren't working, and he was now manipulating her with love and seduction. He'd gotten away with it before.

"I packed for you," Vincent added. "And I'm putting together a cooler of drinks so we won't have to stop on the drive down. I'll get it."

She couldn't believe he had packed for her. He must be really worried. She put a hand to her temple, feeling dizzy and confused. She couldn't go away now. There was too much going on in her head.

She'd spent the morning with Elena, trying to figure out what to do now that Edward Wingate was dead. She had hoped he might be able to build a bridge between them all. Now that wasn't possible. She would have to do it herself.

She started as Vincent returned from the kitchen with the cooler.

"I just need to put the toothbrushes in a bag, and we can go," he said.

She put up her hand. "Wait. You're moving too fast."

"I want to beat the traffic."

"I can't go."

"Why not?" His words came out like bullets, hard, fast, angry. He was close to the edge. She knew she had pushed him there. But dammit, she was right there, too. If they clung to each other, they could both survive. If they stayed apart they might both fall. He needed to understand that.

"You know why not." She caught his gaze and held it, willing him to understand, to see reason. "I want to see her."

"No. And I say this for your own good."

"My own good or your own good?"

"They are one and the same, as we are one and the same." He took her hands in his. "Sophia, tomorrow it will be forty years since we made our vows. This is our time to be together, to remember what we promised."

"How can I go with you and have fun when I'll be thinking of her the whole time?"

"She'll no doubt be here when you get back," Vincent said, his voice filled with hopelessness. "Perhaps by then you'll realize what's at stake."

"I know what's at stake. I can't think of anything else."

"Then come with me, Sophia. Please."

It was the please that got to the heart of her, that made her feel guilty. She almost gave in. She almost said yes. The word hovered on her lips. She had been raised to be a good wife. It was the only role she knew, and it was far too late to look for another role to play. Her husband, her companion for life, was the most important person in the world to her. How could she take the risk of losing him now? She didn't know how to be alone.

"I'll get our toothbrushes," he said again, taking her silence for acquiescence.

When his foot reached the bottom stair, she spoke. "I can't go."

His back stiffened. Slowly he turned. "I won't take no for an answer."

His stern gaze pierced her heart, but she held fast. "I'm afraid you'll have to. Have you forgotten that Elena and Charles are taking us to dinner tomorrow night?"

"Elena will understand."

"I don't want her to understand. We've planned it for weeks. They've made reservations. It's set."

"Sophia, this is more important than your sister."

"Running away will not solve the problem. As you said, Joanna will still be here when we get back -- unless you're planning to move?"

"Don't be silly."

"I can't go on like this, Vincent."

"You have to be strong, Sophia. You must do this for me -- for all of us. The family looks to us for guidance, for inspiration. We are the role models for all the children."

His words twisted the knife in her heart. Role models. God help the children.

"We're human, Vincent. Perhaps the children need to learn that from us, more than they need to learn anything else."

But Vincent couldn't show his children vulnerability, and this situation made him vulnerable. She knew that. She understood it. He was a man. She was a woman. She could bend and hopefully recover; but Vincent couldn't bend, he could only break.

The doorbell rang and she moved to answer it. Linda stood on the doorstep, looking nervous and uncertain.

"Linda, is everything all right?"

"Yes." Linda glanced at the suitcase on the floor. "Are you going somewhere?"

"No," Sophia said.

"Yes," Vincent said.

Linda looked confused. "Oh, then I guess it doesn't matter."

"What doesn't matter?" she asked.

"I was going to ask if you could baby-sit for us tomorrow afternoon, Sophia. Frank and I were invited to lunch at that new restaurant downtown, Scarpino's, and Frank wants to check it out. We never go out together without the children. It's so expensive to pay for someone to watch four kids, then pay for a meal on top of that."

"No," Vincent said.

"Yes," she said, contradicting him once again. "I'd be happy to. You and Frank deserve an afternoon out."

"Sophia, we're going away," Vincent interjected.

"If you want to go away, go. I'm baby-sitting."

"It's our anniversary. I'm not going without you." He shot Linda a dark look.

"I'm sorry," Linda said. "I'll find someone else." She backed toward the door.

Sophia reached for Linda's hand with a reassuring smile. "You won't find someone else. It's all settled. What time do you want me?"

"Eleven-thirty. I know Elena is taking you out for dinner. We'll be back in plenty of time for you to get ready."

"I'm not worried. I think it's wonderful you and Frank are going out together."

Linda looked over at Vincent, who was still scowling. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

Vincent slammed the door behind her.

"Why did you do that? You probably scared her half to death," she scolded.

"She deserves it for giving you an excuse to stay home."

"I didn't need an excuse, Vincent, and you know it."

He threw up his hands. "You drive me crazy. I'm going to the restaurant, and I won't be back until late. Don't wait up for me. In fact, I may not be back at all."

She sent him a steady look, even though her heart raced at the implication of his words. "Is that a threat?"

"Yes." His dark eyes turned hard. "I won't let you hurt this family, Sophia. I won't let you destroy our name, our reputation, our honor. Whatever you say to this woman, I will deny. Even if it means calling you a liar. Don't make me do it."

He slammed out of the house. Sophia took a deep breath, then let it out. In ten short minutes she'd seen the depth of his love and the extent of his hate. She had a feeling that no matter what she did, she would lose.

* * *

The sun was setting when Joanna pulled up in front of the Seacliff house. After a hectic day at school, she had spent the late afternoon looking for apartments, knowing she had to find her own place soon. Unfortunately none of the buildings appealed to her. They'd all been too small, too square, too white, too boring. Not like this house, where fantasy and reality came together.

As she stepped out of the car, she took a deep breath of the beautiful crisp ocean air. The birds were singing. Butterflies danced from bush to bush as bees hummed from flower to flower. The garden was bursting with color, but it needed weeding, pruning, planting. She longed to sink her hands into the dirt and make something beautiful out of the mess, but this wasn't her house, she reminded herself.

She tried the front door. It was locked, so she went around the back and jiggled the doorknob. It opened easily. As she entered the spacious but old kitchen, she didn't see the dirty linoleum, the cracked tiles on the counter, the peeling wallpaper, or the grease and smoke stains behind the stove. She didn't smell the lingering traces of food gone bad or hear the dripping sink.

She didn't see the problems, only the possibilities. And as she walked through the dining room, up the stairs, through each of the bedrooms, finally stopping in the attic, she knew this house was home. She didn't want an apartment. She wanted this house. She wanted to buy it.

Her father had left her a sizable chunk of money, a nest egg, he'd called it, so she'd have something to build her nest with. But this house would take every last cent of that nest egg plus her own savings, and even then the monthly payments would be tight.

It would be much easier to buy the house with someone else -- with a husband, with a family.

She sat down on the steamer trunk and closed her eyes. In her mind she saw Lily with the feisty thrust of her chin. Rose with the sensitive smile and shy brown eyes, Michael with his dazzling blue gaze and sexy grin.

Her heart ached with need. Her arms felt cold, so she wrapped them around her body, but it didn't take the chill away from her heart. The only man she wanted, she couldn't have. Why did she have to meet him now -- when it was too late? Why couldn't she have met him before Angela? They'd both lived in the city. It could have happened.

But it hadn't. It hadn't been their time. Maybe it never would be. How could Michael fall in love with her, a mirror image of his wife, but a paler reflection, not as vibrant, not as loud, not as much of anything? He couldn't. But she could fall in love with him, with his humor, his patience, his kind, loving ways, his loyalty to family, his incredibly sexy body. She sighed wistfully at the thought of kissing him again, stripping down the barriers of clothes and pasts, and coming together as two people who simply wanted each other.

"Joanna?"

She started at the sound of her name, low and husky. Had she wanted him so badly, her mind had begun playing tricks on her? Slowly she opened her eyes.

Michael stood before her in gray slacks and a white shirt, his red silk tie loosely knotted at the neck, his shirtsleeves rolled up past his forearms. She blinked twice. He didn't disappear.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I was going to ask you the same thing. I thought you were spending the evening with your mother."

"I decided not to. I kept thinking about this house -- wondering what would happen to it. I thought you were going to a bachelor party."

"I did. It wasn't any fun. I kept thinking about this house and about you -- wondering what was going to happen to us."

She drew in a breath at the desire in his eyes. They were alone in the big old house. No kids. No rules. No one who knew where they were or what they were doing. No one to tell them it was wrong. Except themselves.

"There is no us," she whispered.

"There could be. I want you, Joanna. You. No one else but you."

She wanted to believe him, "Are you sure?"

"When I went to sleep last night, I tried to picture Angela's face in my mind. But it was your smile I saw, your nose, your eyes, your hair, and all the other things that are just you -- the way you tilt your head to one side when you're thinking about something, the way you talk so thoughtfully, choosing your words with care, the way you smell like a summer garden, not a perfume shop."

"Michael, stop."

"Why? So you can keep fighting me?"

"
You
should be fighting me. There are so many other people involved."

"I don't want to make love to them, only to you."

She drew in a sharp breath. "I want that, too, but I'm scared. Getting involved with you is a big risk.  I don't want to get hurt."