She gives me the eye. “Don’t fawn over me, Anna,” she scolds. But she grabs my hand and squeezes before looking across at John-John. “And who is this handsome young man?”
Frey brings John-John over to stand by her chair. “Mrs. Strong, this is my son, John-John.”
John-John holds out a hand, but Mom leans over and hugs him instead. “I am so pleased to meet you,” she says. “Would you like to call me Anita?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for letting me visit.”
Mom pulls back and winks at Frey. “Daniel, you have a very polite son. Is he always so well behaved?”
Frey and John-John exchange conspiratorial grins and father and son return to their places.
Lunch goes smoothly although I find I can’t take my eyes off my mother. She’s relaxed and the conversation flows smoothly, touching on every topic except the one that brought us together.
She managed to avoid it when I was alone with her, too, diverting the talk from her condition to my engagement.
When lunch is over, Dad takes Frey on a tour of the property while Trish and John-John leave to see the horses next door.
Mom and I start to clear the table. The housekeeper, Catherine, appears to finish the job, sending us to the living room. In her heavy Irish brogue, she promises to follow with coffee, so I hook my arm in Mom’s and we settle into comfortable chairs around a big window overlooking the vineyard.
Mom’s chin is set, her back straight. When she meets my eyes, I wonder if she’s ready.
Ready to finally acknowledge the elephant in the room.
CHAPTER 10
“JOHN-JOHN IS A REMARKABLE YOUNG MAN.”
Mom opens the conversation with a sigh of contentment.
And another diversion.
But I smile. “Yes, he is.”
“And you and Daniel? How did you two become a couple? When did you become a couple? Last time we saw you, you were dating that reporter from CBS.”
I laugh. “Yep. That wasn’t meant to be.”
Mom tilts her head to study me. “But I can see you’re in love. And I can see Daniel loves you. It makes me very happy. It’s what every parent wishes for their child. I’m so glad you found each other. Especially now . . .”
Catherine appears in the doorway, a tray in her hand. She’s a large woman, stocky, wearing a plain shift of heavy cotton over which she’s layered a starched white apron. She has a kind, moon-round face framed by a mane of gray hair pulled into a disheveled knot at the top of her head. She sets the tray on a table between Mom and me and pours us each a cup of coffee.
“Can I get you anything else?”
We both shake our heads. She starts for the door but pauses to turn and add, “Now don’t overtire yourself, missus. Remember the doctor said you should get plenty of rest.”
We stare at her retreating back as if knowing this is the signal we’ve been waiting for.
“What else do the doctors say?” I ask quietly.
Mom takes a sip of her coffee, places the cup carefully back on its saucer. She doesn’t look at me but rather fixes her gaze on the vineyards outside the window. “Stage four, inoperable, caught too late for conventional cancer treatments.” She rattles through the list briskly, matter-of-factly, unemotionally.
I can’t be so dispassionate. “How can they be so sure? There are new breakthroughs every day. There are cancer treatment centers in the United States that are making tremendous progress. We could get you admitted to one of them now. Today. I have my jet here—”
Mom reaches over and stills my windmilling hands. “Anna, stop. Believe me, if I thought there was a chance, I would leave right now. But I don’t want to spend my last days being kept alive by tubes in some sterile ward. Look at what I have here.” She gestures to the window. “This beautiful place. Surrounded by the people I love most. I want the last things I see to be sunlight and vineyards and the faces of my family. You can understand that, can’t you?”
I want to scream, No! I want you to fight!
But I do understand, so I whisper, “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t. Not ever. I’ll always be with you and Trish and now John-John. Family is a bond that transcends life and death.”
She doesn’t say it, but with her last words I know she’s thinking of my brother. The son she lost so many years ago. She believes they’ll be reunited. It’s a hallmark of her faith. It’s what’s giving her grace and courage now.
Is it what’s keeping her from seeking treatment?
Immediately, I feel a pang of guilt. I know my mother well enough to know she wouldn’t forsake Trish or me. She wouldn’t choose the dead over the living. Still, I plan to question my father, make sure they’ve exhausted every possible remedy, procedure or technique that might improve her condition.
I catch Mom peering at me, eyes narrowed. “Don’t go badgering your father about this,” she says.
“What? You’re psychic now?”
“Not psychic. I just know how you think. Believe me, your father has Googled, called about and written to anyone he thought might be of help. Trust me, Anna. Please. Let’s enjoy the time we have left. I want to get to know John-John and catch up with Daniel. It’s been a while since I heard anything about my school.”
She gestures again toward the window. Frey and my father are just coming into sight, strolling across the vineyard, skirting the rows of grapes, heading for the house. Dad’s face is animated as he makes a sweeping wave of his arm, no doubt explaining some vagary of wine making to Frey. Frey listens intently, hands in pockets, head bent. Seeing him unexpectedly like this makes my heart pound. When did I fall so in love?
I don’t realize Mom is watching me until she chuckles and says, “This is a side of you I’ve never seen.”
I take mental inventory. What’s giving it away? Do I have a silly love-struck expression on my face? I frown, raise an eyebrow, feign ignorance. “What side?” But it’s said with a lilt in my voice I can’t disguise.
“See?” Mom laughs again. “It’s even in your voice. When you look at Daniel, your face lights up. Ironic, isn’t it? Considering how you two met?”
It is ironic. Frey and I met when I was searching for Trish. He was a teacher at her school and for a brief time, I thought he might be involved in a child pornography ring. Nothing could have been further from the truth. But Trish had run away and I was desperate to find her. In a fit of reckless abandon, I attacked and bit Frey, thinking I’d ravage the truth out of him.
I got the truth out of him, all right. But in the process of learning his innocence, broke the psychic link between vampire and shape-shifter that allows us to communicate mind to mind. So now we can no longer read each other.
Again, I decide it’s a good thing. This time, though, it’s not because of any negative thoughts I might let slip. As I watch Frey approach, I’m flashing back to the sensation of our bodies intertwined on the bed upstairs and I’m filled with such a heady rush of desire that heat sears my blood.
“You’re smiling again,” Mom says, with a smile brightening her own voice.
Color floods my cheeks. I pull myself from the bedroom back to the present, reach over and give her a hug. “It seems so strange. I’m happy—really happy—for the first time in such a long time. And I want to share it with you. I want you to be a part of our lives. But we need time—”
“I told you,” she interrupts gently. “I’ll always be with you. Don’t feel guilty for being happy. Coming here, sharing your happiness, has been the best medicine I could have hoped for. In fact—”