I want to thank everyone who has read and/or reviewed this story so far. You are all greatly appreciated...:D And I want to thank everyone who has favorited this story... It is overwhelming the response I've gotten from it. So, thank you. And thank you, Jenn...my soul sister...who keeps me as sane as possible with your wit, your courage, your sense of the ridiculous...as well as your unwavering support. Love you...
Yours,
Erin Allen
3
"Most of our faults are more pardonable than the means we use to conceal them."
-La Rochefoucauld
Neela grabbed the phone and punched the button before the first ring had died away. She was starting to get worried as the hours passed and still no word from Ray. Quickly, she muted the television where she'd been searching frantically for a news broadcast of an airplane crash and pressed the phone to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Hi, baby."
Neela closed her eyes in relief to hear the most wonderful voice in the world.
"It's about bloody time," she said, trying to cover the fact that she'd done nothing but pace and worry, her heart slowing to something resembling a normal beat. She'd been in a near state of panic for the past few hours. She was rewarded with a laugh.
"Worried about me?"
She snorted out a denial, though it was a lie. And he knew it.
"I always worry about you," she said, slightly annoyed. "How was the flight?" she asked, pulling a blanket around her. Now that he'd called, she could finally relax.
"I slept through most of it," he said slowly.
She frowned. She knew that tone.
"What's wrong?"
He sighed heavily.
"I just had a bad dream, and it's stuck with me."
"About what?" she asked carefully.
"About the day my mom left. I don't know," he sighed, "Maybe it's just that I was coming back here, or because of Dad…it just hit me the wrong way is all."
Neela swallowed hard, her heart aching for him. He'd told her in an offhand way about that time. As if it meant nothing to him, but she knew that it had affected him. How could it not have? A seven year old child was not supposed to come home and find his father crying with a "Dear John" letter clutched in his fist. And what was worse, the woman hadn't deigned to show her face since. Not even to see her own son.
"Are you all right?" she asked instead. She knew how Ray was about his past. The little she knew was gleaned mostly through conversations that happened in the dark, giving Ray the advantage of hiding what he was truly feeling. Most of it, she had to read between the lines. She didn't care about that. It was just the way Ray was, and she wouldn't change that to suit some vain need in herself. He would talk or he wouldn't, but she would be there to listen if he did.
"I don't know," he was saying. "It's just crazy being back here. I'm staying at Dad's house. Amy wanted me to stay with her and Gene, but I needed some time to myself. Amy can be kind of smothering."
Neela smiled. "She sounds sweet."
Ray laughed, and she closed her eyes to picture him in her mind. His hazel eyes alight with his laughter, his mischievous grin plastered to his handsome face. She loved so many things about him, but his smile was one thing guaranteed to melt her on the spot.
"She is, but there's only so much 'together' time that I can take right now. Not to mention, there's only so much I can eat. It shocks me that Gene isn't five hundred pounds by now. That's one reason I didn't call right away. Amy insisted that she feed me. I'm too thin, she says. Five courses later, plus dessert, I think I'm gonna pop."
Neela laughed.
"Growing boys need their strength," she said with a snort. "If she keeps that up, you won't be able to get back on a plane."
"Oh, I'm getting back on a plane," he said with deadly certainty. She heard water run in the background and shut off. He blew out a breath. "I miss you, Neela."
Tears came to her eyes, and she closed them. His voice sounded hollow, lonely, and it echoed something in herself that she'd been ignoring since the moment she'd left the airport. There wasn't a single day in the past year that she hadn't seen him, talked to him, and had him there to hold her. Ray was her heart, and to have him gone was like missing a piece of herself. Having him gone brought up memories of another time when she'd been all alone. A time she never wanted to go back to again.
"I miss you too," she whispered. "I don't know what to do with myself. The apartment is too quiet."
She heard him chuckle under his breath.
"You mean you don't have anyone to nag," he laughed. "That's all right, baby. I'll be home before you know it, and you can nag me all you want then. I miss it."
She smiled. "I don't nag. I suggest with authority. A lot."
"Oh, is that what it is?" he asked dryly. "I'll have to keep that in mind. It might save my sanity."
"You were daft before I met you. I didn't have anything to do with that." She paused, the smile fading from her face. "When is the service?"
"They had to switch it to Monday because the priest won't say a funeral Mass on Sunday. I should be on my way home the next day, but I'll have to come back to see to the estate. Not sure when right now."
A small surge of disappointment rushed through her, but she squashed it. She couldn't rush this just because she missed him. He needed this time, that she knew well. He would be home soon.
"Okay. Just let me know so that I can collect you from the airport. God forbid you stand there waiting."
"You wouldn't leave me waiting."
"Oh, really?" she asked, raising her eyebrow and grinning at his smug, self-assured tone. "And what makes you think that?"
"Because you love me."
She smiled, heat crashing over her at the sexy tone he'd used.
"Yes, I do."
"And no one else can make you scream…"
"Ray!" she exclaimed, mortified and amused all at the same time. He laughed, knowing damn well he'd gotten to her.
"All right, all right. No more sex talk." He paused. "So, what are you wearing?"
000000
Ray hung up the phone with mixed feelings. He felt immeasurably better for having talked to her. His world revolved around that woman, and being away from her was killing him. Their verbal thrusts and parries were what had made his recovery from his accident bearable. Having her there to bully, nag, and shame him into doing what needed done had saved his sanity when he was nearly mindless with pain. And when their relationship had softened, turning to something sweeter than he could ever have imagined possible, he'd known that there was nothing he wouldn't do for her. But he didn't want to share what he was feeling right now.
Not yet.
He left the kitchen and moved through his father's house to the living room, thinking he'd done a pretty good job of hiding how unnerved he was. The key to keeping Neela off the scent of a secret was to keep her unbalanced. Distracting her with talk of sex was a sure way. He grinned. Not to mention that it had been immensely pleasurable for him even though he would likely have to take a cold shower later.
He paused in his father's living room, his eyes taking in the neat space. It still amazed him that his father could be the fall down drunk that he was and still hold his life together. It seemed that the only casualty of his father's self destructive behavior had been his relationship with his son. Ray strolled slowly past the commendations from his father's work. Awards for academic excellence, teaching commendations, certificates from volunteer work. All of them were decades old, before time and the bottle had changed a once vital man. It amazed Ray that the house was as neat as it was, but then Amy would have made certain of that. Actually, it amazed Ray that there was still a house to stay in at all with the condition his father had been in for years.
He passed the Wall of Fame to what Ray had dubbed the Wall of Shame. A testament of a relationship that had all but died. The entire wall was covered with pictures of Ray. Little League pictures, school pictures, snapshots of different events that Ray had participated in over the years. Ray proudly holding his first guitar when he was fourteen. Ray half smiled at that one. He'd believed he was going to be the next Stevie Ray Vaughn. Shaking his head, he moved on. His high school graduation and that putrescent blue cap and gown. Ray swallowed hard as the pictures after that dried up to a trickle. He'd broken all but the most meager contact after graduation. In college, he'd barely spoken to his father, even to the point of avoiding Miami when summer breaks came around. When that time came, he'd opted for going to a friend's. Or on band trips to LA. Or anywhere but home. He frowned when he saw a concert photo blown up to show him with his guitar, his nails painted black, his eyes as dark as they could legally get, his hair…what the hell had he been thinking with that hair? His heart plummeted to somewhere near his shoes.
He remembered that concert. He and the band he'd been running with at the time had gone to LA for the summer, playing in some of the seediest dives on the West Coast. Their only real success had been an opener for another, more popular band, and the only reason he remembered the night at all was because he'd met the lead singer for Alkaline Trio that night. He'd been almost too drunk to know if he was even upright.
He pulled the frame carefully from the wall to stare at the photo. It was a little blurry, but clear enough that he could see his face. And not blurry enough to hide the fact that his father had been there. He'd stood there in the audience and watched his son act like a maniac. He'd come all the way to LA to see Ray play.
And he'd never said a word.
Frustration, pain and anger shot through him and he flung the frame into a corner where the glass shattered and fell to the floor. Ray could only stand there breathing hard, staring down at the mess he'd made before whirling away to stalk to his father's den.
This was his father's inner sanctum, a place that Ray had never dared go when he was home. This was where the action happened most days. His father would come home from work, disappear into his den for an hour or two and come out looking steadier than he did when he went in. After dinner while Ray did his homework, there would be another disappearing act. Some nights, his dad would come out again, walking as if on the deck of a ship. Some nights, Ray would just go to bed, giving up on seeing his dad again that night. It had been years before Ray just gave up altogether and didn't wait anymore. Why bother when the man wouldn't be in any condition to have a conversation with anyway?
Ray paused in the doorway, his eyes taking quick inventory of the room, searching for the stash that he just knew was there. A half open cupboard caught his eye, and he crossed the room with furious steps to fling open the door. His breath caught at the variety of bottles that were arranged in neat rows across the shelf. It seemed that his father had not only had enough money to maintain his home, but to keep him in high grade alcohol at the same time. He reached in blindly and pulled out a prime bottle of scotch. His fist gripping the neck of the bottle, he flung himself down in the chair behind his father's desk and simply stared at the bottle in his hand, debating on whether or not to get drunk.
It took all his strength to set the bottle carefully on the desk instead of flinging it across the room. He wasn't going to get drunk. His father had made that mistake, soaking his pain in alcohol to dull the ache. Hell, Ray had made that mistake. If not for the alcohol, he might never have stepped in front of that truck. But he'd learned his lesson, and he had a beautiful woman to go home to. Leaning back in the seat, he ran his hands through his hair and blew out a breath, his anger dissipating. This whole house was filled with memories he'd tried to bury. Memories of a past he never wanted to revisit. But his past wasn't important anymore. His future was, and falling into the first bottle wasn't in the cards for that future.
Planting his hands on the desk, he pushed to his feet. His eyes came to rest on his father's file cabinet, another place that Ray had never dared look. He'd opened it once when he was just small, and his dad had nearly come unglued. Ray had never touched it again for fear that his father would have a stroke if he did. Curiosity settled in his gut as he stood before it, taking in the darkened wood of the outer shell. He wondered what the hell he'd find in there when it came time to look. And look he would have to. He'd been shocked enough by the wall full of photos in the living room. What the hell else had his father been hiding?
Ray's hand itched to simply snatch open the drawers and rip the papers out one by one. He wanted answers, dammit. Answers to why he and his father had become virtual strangers. Answers to why the hell his mother hadn't had a care for the son she'd left behind twenty years ago. The deep wood seemed to mock him, hiding so much with just a glimmering finish of dark stain. After a moment, Ray spun on his heel and left the room. He'd had enough of strolling down memory lane for one evening.
He entered his old room, grimacing at the stale smell of it. Apparently, Amy hadn't expected him to stay here and hadn't aired it out. He opened a window, letting in the warm Miami night air, letting the breeze blow away some of the acrid thoughts running through his head. He sat on the bed, and opened his bag, his fingers searching through the compartment in the back for the one thing that would bring him peace tonight.
After a moment, his hand closed over the small box, and he pulled it out to lift the lid. A smile crossed his face and a sense of hope and mingled fear set his heart pounding. The ring wasn't big. A half carat marquis cut diamond with three small diamonds on either side. It was simple, elegant, and fitted Neela to a tee. He'd bought the thing just the week before, using money he'd been setting aside for months to afford just the right one. It amazed him how much it scared him to ask her. Though he was reasonably certain she would say yes, there was still that element of "what if" in there. If he made it through this alive, he was going to ask her the moment he saw her again. He didn't care if it was in the middle of the airport with a thousand people watching. Embarrassing her in that way would just be a bonus.
With a small smile, he closed the lid and tucked the ring back into his bag. He'd brought it with him for no other reason than to keep her from finding it and ruining the surprise he had planned. When Neela was bored/annoyed/pissed, she cleaned. And when she cleaned, everything was cleaned, even if that meant pulling all the drawers out and dumping them to do it all over again. He wasn't taking that chance. Flopping back on the bed, he kicked off his shoes, pushed his bag to the floor and willed his mind to rest.
He didn't hold out much hope that it would.
