Tempest Tossed: A Love Unexpected Novel (21 page)

Chapter 8—Dylan

Rene was spooned into my abdomen, nestled perfectly against me. I nudged her fragrant hair away from her ear and whispered, “Good morning.”

“Mmmm morning,” she answered. I could hear the smile of contentment in her voice. Last night was incredible and I was ready to start the morning off. The more I had of Rene, the more I wanted. Her body was a question I wanted to spend countless days answering.

I decidedly
did not
want to hear the knock on my cabin door.

“Mr. Cruz, phone call.” I’d find out which crew member belonged to that voice later and explain the protocol for waking me up. Not that I’d have the protocol to worry about for too much longer. Soon I’d be waking up with an alarm clock just like everyone else in the world.

“Go away and tell whoever it is that I’ll call him back.”

“I tried that, sir. The man says it’s urgent. He insists on speaking to you.”

“Who
is
it?”

“A Mr. Spencer. He says he’s your father’s solicitor.”

Solicitor? Oh yeah, Brit speak for lawyer. I shook off my sleepy head. The phone was on the console on the other side of the room and I got up to take the call. Rene groaned for both of us. Getting out of bed was the last thing on either of our minds. The way she watched me walk across the room left no doubt about what was on her mind. But, a phone call from Dad’s lawyer at eight a.m. was probably not something I should ignore. Maybe I already had a job. That would be cool.

I pressed the blinking button. “Dylan Cruz here.”

“Good morning, Mr. Cruz. This is Austin Spencer, you father’s attorney. I do apologize for calling you so early.”

“That’s quite all right,” I lied.

“Mr. Cruz, I’m sorry to have to tell you that your father has had a serious heart attack. He’s been taken to Cromwell Hospital.”

I leaned against the wall, suddenly weak and aware that I had hopped over to the phone without my crutches. My leg screamed along with my head. I’d just seen him the day before. He’d been fine. Perfect, in fact. Never looked better. And, damn, for maybe the first time in my life I had felt that something could possibly go right between us. “Is he going to be all right?” I looked over at Rene who was now sitting upright and clutching the sheet to her chest.

“It’s very serious, I’m afraid. He’s asking for you. I knew where to find you because I spoke with him yesterday about your meeting.”

“I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Earl’s Court. Kensington.” The lawyer gave me the hospital’s location. “Do hurry, Mr. Cruz.”

“Right. Thanks.” I hung up the phone and said simply. “My Dad’s had a heart attack and from the sound of the lawyer’s voice, it’s bad. Come with me?”

She was already pulling her t-shirt over her bare chest. “Do you need me to help you dress or should I go get ready first?”

“Just go throw something on and come right back here. I’ll get as far as I can and you can help me with the rest.”

Rene buttoned her jeans and came over to me. “I’m so sorry, Dylan. I hope he’ll be okay.” She held my hand to the side of her face and kissed the palm. “I’ll be right back.”

The cab pulled up to the front of the stark white hospital and I could feel the sweat rolling down my back even though my rational self knew I wasn’t there as a patient. Just the sight of the building was enough to drain all the color from my face and have my hands go clammy. Rene could see it and this time, she knew
why
I reacted the way I did. She was kind enough not to mention my pallor or the sweaty hand she took in hers as she helped me balance myself.

I left Rene in a cold waiting area outside of intensive care. She sat off to the side, trying very hard not to intrude on a family’s public grief. They had obviously just lost someone. Rene focused her gaze on me and gave me a ‘be brave’ kind of smile as I pushed through the double doors.

My father seemed shrunken, dwarfed by the massive monitors, IV poles and equipment in his curtained cubicle. The nurse helped me into a chair beside his bed. The fact that she did
not
instruct me not to tire him or linger long spoke volumes. Jackson Cruz was dying.

“Dad.” At first I thought maybe I was too late. But a glance at the monitors showed a heart still beating. “Dad, I’m here.”

He slowly turned his head toward me. The oxygen tube under his nose made it hard for me to look at him. I wanted to rip it from his face. But I held steady and looked him in his exhausted eyes. A fog had settled onto his face. He had to fight to see me through the mist that had already descended to ease the transition from this life.

“Thanks for coming, Dylan.” His words were barely audible. Energy had already departed from his voice. I leaned closer over the bed rail to hear him. “I’m not going to win this battle.”

“C’mon, Dad. Save your strength. You’ll pull through.”

“Bullshit. And I have things to tell you, even if it takes the last of my energy. Things you have to know.”

“Okay, Dad. I’m here. I’m listening.” It was hard to believe how much I had hated this man just days before. Now, all I wanted was another chance to know him. Another chance to have a
father
. But as I watched him gather his thoughts, I knew he was right. Death was standing over his head tapping its toes impatiently. I waited and after a few labored breaths he spoke.

“I was a coward. I knew your mother was mad and I knew her madness was working its evil on you and your sister. Instead of doing something about it, I hid away in my work.”

I nodded. What was there for me to say? Even if he was on his deathbed, he spoke the painful truth. I couldn’t lie but I could offer a little comfort perhaps. I reached for his hand. Yesterday it had been strong. Now it was the frail grip of an old man. “It’s over now. I’m here now. I’m okay.”

“Yes, you are okay. I can see that. It’s a gift for me. You were always the stronger one. Even as a little kid, you had the spunk to know I was not blameless. Dawn adored me unreasonably, you know. She was such a fragile little thing.”

I fought the anger back. I could forgive him for myself. But when he mentioned my little angel of a sister I had to swallow the bile of resentment that her memory stirred.

“I had faith you could survive the loss of your mother. I’ve hidden behind the illusion of your weakness when I was the weak one. I resented you for being stronger than I was, even as a little boy.” He breathed hard for a few moments. “I had her committed, you know.”

“I can’t remember exactly how I found that out, but yes I know.”

“I loved Francesca. More than anything in my life. Her madness changed everything.”

“Can you tell me how it happened, Dad? Can you tell me
what
happened? What happened to Dawn? That’s what I really need to know. Everything else is . . . just past. I want to know what happened to my sister.”

“Everything just got away from me,” he said as he closed his eyes. “Everything was just too complicated and horrible for me to cope with. I ran away. I ran away.” He became very still. I watched the monitors, waiting for the flat line and the beep that would herald his final departure.

Minutes later, he opened his eyes again.

“I loved you . . . both of you. Still do, always will. I just couldn’t bear  . . . couldn’t allow it. I had to do it. She wouldn’t have survived.”

He was babbling and barely coherent. But he had something left to say to me and I wanted to know what it was. “What did you have to do, Dad? Dawn wouldn’t have survived? Or Mother? What are you saying?”

“It was for the best.” His eyes closed again.

You can’t shake a dying man awake and demand that he tell you what you want to know. No matter how I had felt about my father most of my life he was all I had and I was all he had. I prayed a fox hole prayer that I had a few moments left with him, not just to get the answers he had that I so desperately wanted but to form a bond. A bond that would only live a moment was better than the alternative—nothing.

I covered his hand with mine and held it. I couldn’t remember ever actually touching my father. I’d seen Dawn do it. I’d seen her in his lap, kissing his cheek and I’d seen him stroke her hair and hug her when he came and went. But me? I didn’t even remember a handshake except the one that took my surprise the day before.

He looked at me for the last time and I saw a tear slip from the corner of his eye. His mouth opened but he couldn’t make any words come out. Just one lonely tear to tell his sorrow.

“It’s okay, Dad. It’s all okay.” He held my gaze as he took his last breaths. I wondered if he was looking into his beloved Francesca’s eyes when their love was new. I hoped so. I tried to put all the kindness, all the forgiveness and understanding I could into the last look I’d ever give him. I hoped it was enough. “Go in peace, Dad.”

When the flat line traced across the screen the nurse came in. If I had thought there was going to be high drama with a crash cart and attempts to revive him, I thought wrong. The nurse quietly shut Jackson Cruz’s lightless eyes, turned off a few noisemakers and said, “I’ll give you a few moments.”

There were no tears. I wasn’t far along enough in knowing him to grieve my new loss. There’d be time later to mourn what might have been. Instead I went over and over and over the last conversation I’d ever have with my father.

What was for the best? What had he done?

Chapter 9—Rene

It was way too cold in the waiting room. The clothes I had thrown on were no match for the arctic temperatures of the sterile room. Watching the family in grief might have contributed to the chilly atmosphere. Their sorrow was infectious even though I tried to shut it out. Eventually they all left together, a ball of humanity huddled against the inevitable.

I hadn’t noticed the gray haired man sitting in the far corner. Like me, he seemed to have distanced himself from the raw intimacy of the bereaved relatives. Unlike me, he had a prop—a magazine of some sort—to use as a barrier between himself and the mourners. He was typically distinguished, buttoned up and comically British. I envied him his suit. He was dressed for the weather inside that refrigerator of a room.

Pacing was one way of getting my blood moving. I got up and toured the small area. There were at least two dozen chairs arranged around the perimeter. That seemed like overkill to me. How many people would need to wait in that ghastly place at one time? The pictures on the walls were hung too high and were all cheap prints of peaceful landscapes designed, I supposed, to evoke calm and harmony in a place that was anything but.

Time crawled by. I rubbed my arms and tapped my feet but it didn’t do me any good.

“Rather chilly in here, isn’t it?” British man observed.

“Freezing,” I agreed.

“There’s a vending machine in the hallway. Shall I fetch us some tea? It will be hot, but horrid, I’m sure.”

“That would be wonderful. I really don’t want to leave this room in case my friend comes out. He’s in there with his father. Heart attack.”

“That would be Mr. Cruz?”

“Yes. Are you a friend of his?”

“I’m his solicitor. Austin Spencer.” He rose and came over to shake my hand. He was an elegant man who looked just like what I imagined a British lawyer should look like. Charcoal gray, pinstriped suit, bow tie, starched white shirt (French cuffs, of course) and a gold signet ring on his right pinky.

“Rene Waters. I work on El Loco, Mr. Cruz’s boat.”

“Well, Ms. Waters, let me go see about the tea and we’ll try to warm you up.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Spencer.” I watched him leave the room. He carried himself precisely. Everything about him was precise.

Dylan came through the door moments later. He sat down beside me and sighed.

“He’s gone,” he said flatly and stared down at his shoes.

“I’m so sorry, Dylan.” I really didn’t know if I was sorry, but it seemed the only appropriate thing to say.

“I don’t know how to feel. Yesterday, I had a glimpse of what it might be like to have him as a father—a real one—for the first time. But I didn’t have time to process it. Now he’s gone. I’ll never know.”

I put my hand on his arm feeling like I should say something comforting, but the words wouldn’t come. Dylan put his hand over mine and gave me a sad smile.

“I can’t say I loved him. I didn’t even know him. I feel guilty feeling nothing. Maybe a little regret, but other than that I’m just flat.”

“It’ll take some time. There’s no right way to feel.”

“I know I have to find some answers, though. Before he . . . passed, he said some things. Things about Dawn. That he did something he had to do. That she wouldn’t have survived otherwise. I have to find out what he was getting at.”

“Mr. Spencer might know.”

“Mr. Spencer?”

“Your father’s lawyer. He’s here. He just went to get me some tea.”

On cue, Austin Spencer came back into the waiting room. Dylan stood up to greet him and introduce himself.

“Your father?”

“Gone.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“We weren’t at all close, Mr. Spencer. All the same, it’s a bit of a shock.”

“Quite so. Jackson never intimated anything about a heart condition. He seemed the picture of health.”

“I didn’t know him well, but it fits with what little I did know of his character. He wouldn’t be one to share details like that with anyone.”

“He might have had some knowledge that he was at risk. He left extremely detailed instructions on how his affairs were to be handled. It may be a relief for you to know that there will be nothing you have to do until you take possession of his ashes.”

I saw Dylan wince a little at the mention of ashes. It sounded so final. “Was I specifically named as the person to take his . . . remains?”

“Indeed. His instructions were for immediate cremation. He asked that you scatter them at sea.”

“Wow. Okay. I can handle that, I guess. It seems strange, though. We hardly communicated. Like I said, not close at all.” Dylan shook his head. “The old man was full of surprises at the end.”

“There’s much more we’ll need to discuss. It can wait until you’ve had some time.”

“When will they . . . when will he be cremated?”

“Oh, immediately. We don’t have a waiting period in the U.K. and as executor, I will be able to authorize the necessary. You shouldn’t have to wait more than a couple of days.”

“Mr. Spencer? My father spoke to me about my sister. He said that he had ‘done something’. My sister Dawn has been out of my life for many years and I assumed, all this time, that she was dead. But my father’s last conversation with me has me wondering if something else happened to her. Would you have any knowledge of what he was talking about?”

I watched Austin Spencer’s face and saw the briefest hint of chagrin. “I think, for now, it’s incumbent upon me to see to your father’s instructions to the letter. Would you kindly give me today to follow through and we can meet tomorrow and I’ll share what I can with you?”

“It will only take a second to tell me if you know if she’s alive or dead. Considering my father has just died, don’t you think I deserve that much?”

“Your sister is very much alive.”

Dylan paled and sank back into a chair. “Dear God.How could he have kept that from me?”

“I don’t think it was his intent to cause you harm.”

“The hell it wasn’t. That’s quite a tidbit to keep hidden for a dozen years.”

“Mr. Cruz, I didn’t know your father well.”

“Yeah, well maybe that’s a good thing.”

“But I’m sure he had reasons for what he did.”

“Reason one being that he was one sick bastard.”

“Please try to stay calm. You can’t change anything by getting upset.”

“Dylan,” I chimed in, “Let’s go back to El Loco. Give Mr. Spencer the time he asked for. Tomorrow you’ll be able to think clearer.”

“I hope you’re right, Rene. Because right now all I want to do is break something. How could he do this to me?” He was shouting in Spencer’s face and I felt bad for the lawyer. It wasn’t his fault Jackson Cruz had done what he’d done.

I took his hand as Spencer took a step backward. I couldn’t blame the attorney for being slightly afraid of Dylan. The storm raging inside him was frightening. “Mr. Spencer isn’t to blame. The person to blame is in there and he’s dead. Please. You have to calm down.”

“Calm down? Why the hell do I have to calm down? I’ve just been told the person I loved the most in the world, who disappeared from my life in an instant, has been alive and I’ve missed knowing her for twelve years! I’d say that qualifies as not calm at all.”

“Dylan, can you take a moment out of your anger to find some joy in knowing she’s still alive?” When I asked that question, everything on Dylan’s face changed. He looked at me and I could see the light switch flip on inside his eyes. Then he laughed and began to cry.

“Oh God. Oh God. You’re right, my angel. She’s alive. She. Is. Alive. She’s just a year older than you are. She was only ten when  . . . now she’s all grown up. I’ll bet she’s so beautiful. She was the most beautiful little girl you’d ever want to see.”

I watched the emotions play over his handsome face. I loved how expressive his face was; how much he could say with those gorgeous blue eyes. I wanted to lick the tears of joy and taste his happiness on my tongue. I wanted to celebrate that beautiful smile with a kiss.

“Let’s leave Mr. Spencer to his grim business, shall we? Try to be thankful that your father had the sense to spare you that much.”

“You’re right.” Dylan balanced on his crutches and held out a hand for the solicitor. “Sorry to take it out on you, Mr. Spencer. I appreciate your help.”

“Not to worry, son.” He reached into his breast pocket and handed Dylan his card. “I understand that you’ve had quite the shock. I’ll expect you tomorrow morning and we’ll sort through it together.”

We were quiet on the ride back to El Loco.

Dylan stared vacantly out the car window. I knew he would be remembering Dawn, maybe wondering what she looked like now, what she’d been doing all the lost years and how great it would be to reconnect with her. At least, that’s what I hoped he was thinking about.

His happiness had become almost as important to me as my own. I knew that Jackson Cruz was a poisonous man and I wanted Dylan to push him out of his mind. It became important to me that Dylan close that ugly chapter. I wasn’t interested in him forgiving his father as much as I was in him forgetting the man who caused him so much pain. Hopefully, Dylan would have an easier time with that prospect than I.

A few minutes into the ride, I finally stopped thinking about Jackson and Dawn and Dylan and realized that for the second time in twenty-four hours, my life had once again changed dramatically. I doubted that Dylan would be taking some manager’s job in the hotel chain. That option didn’t seem too realistic.

The big question was the matter of Jackson’s will. There were a number of possibilities and most of them did not bode well for any future together. The old man could have left a fortune to his son or nothing. Or, he could have maintained the status quo and left him a trust to keep him in the same kind of limbo he’d been in for the past several years.

Part of me hoped he’d been left nothing. I could wrap my head around starting a life with Dylan just as poor as most other young couples I knew. We’d be on an equal footing. We could go forward and face all the adventures an ordinary life holds. That sounded so normal. So much of Dylan wasn’t ‘normal’ that the notion was kind of appealing. Yeah. Normal.

I was terrified that he’d been left everything. My little middle class self had no place in that world. I wasn’t even sure if he’d want me anymore if he became a gazillionaire. I turned to look at him and instantly felt rotten for even thinking that. Surely I thought better of him than to consider that he’d dump me when he had more dough. And, for a brief period of time when we first met I had thought he was filthy rich. It didn’t make him any less attractive.

And what about the status quo option? I reasoned we could live with that. We could have normal with a cushion. He had wanted to do something with his life before Jackson Cruz died. There was no reason to think that he had changed his mind about that.

Up in the air was a place I was starting to become way too familiar with.