Ask Mariah (27 page)

He smiled. "We're quite a pair. You don't know who your parents are. I have no idea why my kids won't speak to me. We just spent the night in the backyard of a house we don't own. Oh, and you just happen to be the mirror image of my wife. Where's the phone? I'm calling Oprah."

Joanna punched him on the arm. "It's not funny."

"If we don't laugh we'll never get through it."

"I know you're right, but there's a lot at stake for me. If I'm not a Wingate I don't know who I am."

"You're a beautiful, intelligent, sexy woman."

"Okay, you get points for that."

"How many?"

She ran her tongue along the edge of his lips, until he groaned and deepened the kiss.

"Did I also mention that you have great legs and a terrific smile?" he asked a few minutes later.

"Don't push your luck," she said with a laugh, flopping down on her back, her head on his shoulder. As she did so, a strong gust of wind rattled the wind chimes on Ruby Mae's back deck, a lovely melody that had played all night long. "That music reminds me of my music box," she said.

He sat up abruptly, and Joanna's head hit the ground with a thud.

"Ouch! What did you do that for?" She sat up, rubbing the back of her head.

"You have a music box?" he asked.

She looked at him in surprise. "Yes. My father gave it to me when I was a baby. Why?"

His heart began to race. Maybe he was jumping to a wild conclusion. Lots of children had music boxes. It didn't mean anything.

"Michael, what's wrong?"

He met her troubled gaze. "Sophia collects music boxes from all over the world. She gave each of her children a music box on the day they were born. She even gave one to Lily and Rose."

"My father told me he found the box in an antiques shop. He loved it almost as much as I did. He would turn it on just before I went to sleep at night. Sometimes we'd sit there in the dark without speaking and listen to the melody play."

"Is there an inscription on the box?"

"Yes. It says to my daughter, with love.' "

"Anything else? Any initials -- like SD?"

"I -- I don't think so." She didn't sound sure. "I haven't looked at it in awhile. I play it, but I don't read the inscription all that often."

"Maybe you should take another look."

"My father gave me the music box," she said. 

"I know," he replied, as a wave of uneasiness ran through him. The inscription was terribly familiar. Another coincidence? Was that possible?

What was the alternative? That Sophia was Joanna's mother? He couldn't accept that either. Sophia was the backbone of the family, the nurturing woman who mothered them all, whose heart was as big as the tallest skyscraper. Sophia would have been married when Joanna was born, with two boys, Frank and Tony. It couldn't have been her. She couldn't have given up a baby. It was impossible.

"Maybe I should try to talk to Sophia today," Joanna said, her thoughts running parallel to his.

"Today is the party, remember?"

"That's right, their wedding anniversary. Forty years, you said."

He met her gaze. "Joanna, it couldn't have been Sophia. She and Vincent would never have given up a child."

"I know you love them, Michael, but how can you be sure of what happened in Sophia and Vincent's marriage thirty years ago?"

"If Sophia had been pregnant, everyone in the family would have known. If anyone is your mother, it's Elena."

"Maybe it was her. Will she be at the party tonight?"

"Yes." He wished he'd never mentioned the party to Joanna. It was a big event. Linda had spent days planning the surprise. He couldn't let Joanna walk in and start asking awkward questions. It wouldn't be fair to the De Lucas. But his thoughts made him feel disloyal to Joanna, to the woman he'd made love with. Could he put loyalty to the De Lucas before loyalty to her? "Joanna, I think you were right earlier, that this party is not the right time to rock the boat."

"I thought you wanted me to come."

"I changed my mind."

"Michael, this boat started rocking long before I got on it. This situation isn't my fault."

"I didn't mean it that way."

"You're more afraid I'm going to hurt them than they're going to hurt me," she proclaimed, her gaze filling with disappointment.

"I don't want any of you to get hurt."

"You can't play both sides."

"Why not? Why do I have to choose a side?"

"Because..." Her voice trailed away. "I don't know."

He put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed the tension out of her neck. "Let's not borrow trouble. We don't know anything yet. This secret, if there is one, has been around for years. We don't have to solve it today,"

"You're right." They sat there for a few more minutes, listening to the sounds of the waves breaking on the beach below. "I guess we should thank about leaving."

"What time is it?"

Joanna checked her watch. "Eight o'clock."

"Too early. We should go back to bed."

"We're not in bed, we're on the lawn."

"It will still work."

"What will still work?" she asked suspiciously.

He grinned in reply.

Joanna blushed under his intimate look. "Do you have any more -- you know?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out three more foil packets.

Her jaw dropped open in astonishment. "Good grief!"

"I build skyscrapers. When I dream, I dream big."

"What exactly happens in this dream of yours?"

He pulled the quilt over their heads and proceeded to show her.

The banquet room at De Luca's was packed by six o'clock that evening with every De Luca between the ages of two and sixty. It was a noisy crowd, lots of chattering, hand waving, and arguing. Tony took a sip of his beer and leaned against the wall. He smiled as he saw his great-aunt Marie handing out prayer cards. She was hell-bent on saving as many De Lucas from purgatory as she possibly could, Tony had used his card as a coaster for his beer bottle.

His forty-two-year-old second cousin Harry was already drunk and using this opportunity to kiss as many women in the room as possible. Aunt Tess was tapping her cane to the beat of the music that barely rose above the conversation level, and his elderly uncle Milton, who tried to sleep through as many family functions as possible, was taking a quick snooze in the corner of the room while some of Frank's kids twirled streamers around his chair.

All in all it was a typical De Luca gathering.

He'd missed them, Tony suddenly realized -- all of them, not just Angela but the others too. He'd missed this feeling of being part of a group of people who genuinely cared about one another. Craziness and all, his family was okay.

He took another sip of his beer. After a quiet dinner, if you could call any dinner with the De Luca family quiet, they would spill into the main dining room to join more family and friends. There were already a few people dining in the restaurant, waiting for the party to follow.

His gut tightened instinctively. Helen and Joey would be arriving at any minute. He'd seen their names on the reservation list. This might be his last chance to talk to her. He was planning to leave in a few days so he needed to see her tonight.

With that thought in mind, he left the room. As he entered the main dining room, Helen and Joey walked in. He stopped abruptly. Helen's dark purple silk dress set off her gorgeous blond hair. Her skin seemed to glow in the candlelight, and as she laughed at something Joey said, Tony realized she looked happy -- like a woman in love.

It had to be an act. Helen had always loved him. She'd vowed to marry him in the seventh grade. The only problem was, he'd never offered marriage. They'd dated on and off throughout middle school, high school, and college. Helen had always been there for him, waiting with open arms and unconditional love. Only, he'd been too stupid to realize that, until now.

Tony raised the beer bottle to his lips as Helen and Joey were seated in a quiet booth against the wall. He needed to talk to Helen alone. He needed five minutes to convince her that he was serious this time. Somehow he didn't think Joey would accommodate his need for private conversation.

A flash of red caught Tony's eye as Kathleen Shannon crossed in front of him. She set down two bowls of pasta at one table and a basket of bread at another. Then she wiped her hands on her apron and returned to the kitchen. He wondered if he could enlist Kathleen's help in distracting Joey. He walked over to the kitchen door, then stepped back in a hurry as Kathleen flew out with a tray full of hot food. For a moment the tray swayed in her hand. Tony instinctively grabbed it, steadying it. She let out a sigh of relief.

"You scared me," she said.

"I've always told Papa he should change that door. Do you want some help?"

"I can manage."

He waited by the door until she had unloaded her tray, then he stopped her as she came by again. "Kathleen, can you do me a favor?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Go over to that table" -- he tipped his head toward Joey and Helen -- "and tell that guy he has a phone call in the back hall."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"To be helpful?"

"You'll have to do better than that."

"I just need five minutes."

"With the blonde?" Kathleen studied Helen with a thoughtful tilt to her head. "She's the one who's getting married in a couple of weeks."

"That's right. I need five minutes with the blonde who's getting married in a couple of weeks," he repeated in frustration.

"Why do you want her so bad?" Kathleen snapped her fingers. "I know."

"You don't know anything."

"You want her because she wants him."

"Will you do it or not?"

"All right, I'll do it. But you owe me one, and I always collect my debts."

"Fine, I'll owe you."

"Remember you said that."

"I will. Just give me one minute, then do it."

Tony headed for the courtesy phones in the back hallway. He opened the phone book to the yellow pages and dialed one of the airline numbers. Once connected, music played in his ear with an announcer interrupting every minute or two to announce that someone would be on the line shortly. Perfect. Joey would think his caller had placed him on hold which should give Tony enough time to grab Helen by the hand, kiss her senseless, and sweep her out of the restaurant.

Of course he'd miss the big party, but he'd worry about that later. His parents understood passion and love. They were Italian. They'd forgive him for this. Especially if he ended up getting married and having children.

Marriage. Children. Whoa. He was getting ahead of himself. All he really wanted was for Helen to sail around the world with him. Maybe she'd take a promise for commitment at a later date.

He returned to the dining room, skirting the edge of the room so he wouldn't bump into Joey. When he reached Helen's table she looked at him in wary surprise.

"Tony. I thought you'd be with your family."

"Run away with me," he said in a hurried, hushed voice.

"What?" Her jaw dropped open.

He slid onto the seat next to her and kissed her on the lips while her mouth was still open. He thought for a moment she would kiss him back, but she pulled away.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed, looking for Joey.

"I'm trying to sweep you off your feet, but you're not cooperating,"

"I'm engaged."

"I love you, Helen."

"It's too late."

"You're not married yet."

"I'm engaged. Go away, Tony,"

"Don't you remember our dreams, Helen? We were going to sail around the world. We were going to be footloose and fancy-free. We were going to spend our lives together."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Tony," she said softly, "those were your dreams. They weren't mine."

He didn't understand. "You never said you wanted anything else."

"Because I adored you. I wanted what you wanted. Up until six months ago, I would have done exactly what you asked with no questions. Then I met Joey." She paused. "I realized things could be different. Joey watches me when I sleep, Tony. He brings me coffee in the morning. He lets me have the remote control. He even held my hair back while I threw up. If that's not love, I don't know what is."

"I love you, too. I'm crazy about you, Helen."

"So crazy that you'd give up that boat of yours, settle in this town, and run this restaurant with your brother?"

"If -- if I have to. Yeah. Maybe. If I have to. I could do that."

"Oh, Tony, thank you," she said with a wistful smile.

"For what?"

"For at least considering the idea. Even if it would make you terribly unhappy."

"I wouldn't be unhappy. I'd be with you." He saw Helen look up beyond him. He turned his head.

Joey stood behind him, beaming a broad smile across his square face. "Tony, How you doing? I was hoping to see you while you were here, but Michael told me you were busy getting your boat ready to sail."

Joey must not have overhead their conversation, because he seemed completely oblivious to the undercurrents flowing between him and Helen. "I'm doing okay," Tony mumbled, sliding out of the seat.

"Did you hear Helen and I are getting married? I tell you, I am the luckiest man on earth. Who would have thought that me, Joey Scopazzi, who couldn't get a date to the prom for any amount of money, would be marrying the prettiest girl in town?" Joey leaned over and tenderly kissed Helen on the lips. She kissed him back, the way a lover would, the way a wife would. Tony knew it was over. He'd known it since he first came back; he just hadn't wanted to accept it. Without Helen waiting in the wings, he'd somehow lost his anchor.

"I wish you could stick around for the wedding," Joey said. "I know Helen would love to have you there."

Helen didn't say anything to confirm or deny that statement. She didn't have to. They both knew he wouldn't be there.

"Thanks, I'll think about it. I don't know what my schedule is."

"You know, all of us guys talked about being astronauts or baseball players, but you actually grew up to do exactly what you said you were going to do, sail around the world." Joey slapped him on the back. "We're proud of you, Tony. Really proud."

Proud. Jesus, he felt like a schmuck. "Thanks," he mumbled.

Helen touched Joey on the arm. "I left my sweater in the car and it's chilly in here. Could you get it for me?"

"Of course, sweetheart." He kissed her again, then headed for the car.

"I'd forgotten how nice he was," Tony said with a scowl. "That must be why we always used to beat him up."

"He is nice."

"Do you really love him, Helen? I know he loves you, but is he truly the love of your lifetime?"

"Yes." Her eyes softened. "I know I promised to love you for all time in the seventh grade, but I grew up. You still tempt me. When you first came back I thought maybe I'd made a mistake. But we don't want the same things, Tony. And as I've gotten older I've learned to avoid things that aren't good for me. It makes life easier." She took a deep breath. "Do me one favor though. Don't come to the wedding, okay?"

"Okay." He shrugged. "I guess there's nothing left to say except have a nice life."

"You, too. I wish I could have been the one for you. I knew when you didn't come back, when you didn't turn to me in your grief, that I could never really be the one."

Maybe Helen was right, but he'd be damned if he'd admit it. "I'll see you around."

"Drop me a postcard some time."

"Sure." He dug his hands into his pockets and walked away. He didn't want to see Joey come back. He didn't want to see Helen kiss her fiance again. He didn't want to be reminded that he'd probably just lost the best woman he'd ever had.

Instead he headed for the bar and ordered a shot of tequila. "Dumped you, did she?" Kathleen asked as she stepped up to the bar and ordered three glasses of red wine. She smiled knowingly. "She wasn't your type anyway."

"How would you know?"

"She's got homebody written all over her. I doubt she'd hold your attention for more than five minutes."

"She's had my attention since the seventh grade."

"That just proves my point."

"Excuse me?"

"If you'd really wanted her, you would have gotten her a long time ago." She nodded at her own brilliance. "It's like I said, you want her now because she wants him."

"You're a waitress, not a psychologist. Why don't you stick to serving drinks and food instead of advice?"

"I'm a lot more than a waitress, Tony De Luca. That's another problem with you."

"Oh, you mean I have another problem?" he asked, putting a hand to his chest in mock astonishment.

"Yes, you do. You only see what you want to see. I'm beginning to think it's a De Luca family trait."

"Speaking of the De Lucas, I think I'll join my family in the back room."

"Fine," she said with a breezy wave, "just let me know if you need my help in seducing any other engaged women away from their fiances."

Her laugh followed him down the hall. She annoyed the hell out of him. Made his blood boil. Made his palms sweat. He paused at the door to the banquet room, suddenly recognizing the symptoms for what they were. But there was no way he was getting involved with her. She'd probably end up killing him, if he didn't kill her first.

* * *

Joanna felt a tremendous surge of anger, a wave of fury that rendered her speechless, that made her hands curl into fists, that made her want to hit someone or break something. Her mother had lied. Her father had lied, too.

With shaky fingers she reached for the music box she had taken off her dresser and placed on the middle of her bed. She sat cross-legged on the quilt, dressed in blue jeans and a sweatshirt, the clothes she had put on when she returned home earlier that day.

Joanna turned the music box over again. The glittering gold inscription on the bottom brought tears to her eyes.
To my daughter, with love
.

Her father had given her the music box. She'd assumed he'd had it engraved. She'd noticed the tiny initials before, the letters S.D., but believed they belonged to the maker of the box. Now they stood for so much more. S.D. -- Sophia De Luca. There was only one reason Sophia De Luca would have given her a music box.
Sophia was her mother.

"Joanna?" Caroline knocked on the closed door. "Are you all right? You've been in there for hours."