Battling Destiny (The Piper Anderson Series Book 6) (2 page)

Jules choked back the tears she’d been fighting since Michael left. She promised herself she wouldn’t waste a minute crying over this, but her mother’s words were shoving her toward the edge of losing that battle. “Ma, I just don’t want to leave her right now. I don’t want both Michael and me to be gone. I don’t want her to think we abandoned her.” And with that thought clamping down on her heart the tears began to fall. “She needs me.”

“She needs both of you,” Betty insisted, though her tone was softer. “He’s gone after you before. He’s shown up when you needed him to. Do the same for him.”

“And if I get out there and don’t like the answers I find? If he’s not the man I thought he was?”

“Then you’ll never have to ask yourself again if you are making the right choices for your daughter. You’ll never have to wonder if digging your heels in and being angry hurt her more than helped her. If you face this now you’ll be able to move forward knowing you are doing right by her, either way.”

“I still don’t want to leave her,” Jules croaked as she slid off the couch and lay on the floor next to her cooing baby girl.

“I’ll go with you,” Piper said so quickly and loudly that Jules jumped slightly. “Frankie can come and I’ll watch her while you sort things out. I’ll be right there with you and so will she.”

“Wait,” Bobby cut in with a wave of his hands as though this situation had just spun out of control. “I can’t come. I don’t have any time off work, and I’m not sure it’s a great idea for the three of you to go out there on your own since you don’t know what’s going on with Michael. With our track record it could be anything. I’m not comfortable with this.”

“Well get comfortable, boy,” Betty said with a threatening grin. “You ain’t the boss of these girls, and if they want to go, you know damn well they’ll go. I think you should save your breath.”

“We’ll be fine,” Piper assured Bobby as she crossed the room and sat next to him. Normally she’d slide her hand into his, but Jules had begun noticing they weren’t touching nearly as much since Michael left—as though their happiness contrasted too starkly with her agony.

“You’re talking about the three most important people in my life hopping on a plane and walking into something we know nothing about. I’m not going to be able to get right with that. We need some other solution. Someone else needs to go too. Someone we trust. Someone competent.”

“I’m sorry, are you implying we aren’t trustworthy or competent?” Jules bit back, channeling all the anger she’d been bottling up.

“You’re clouded by emotion and Piper will be focused on Frankie. If something is going on out there you’ll both be distracted.”

“Well, Jedda, Crystal, and Clay are busy at the restaurant. Willow and Josh are in New York, so who exactly did you have in mind?” Piper’s question was almost as infuriating as Bobby’s inference of their incompetence because she was entertaining the idea that he was right.

“What about my partner, Lindsey? She’s on leave from work right now. She hurt her leg in a foot pursuit and I think she has two more weeks before she goes back on duty. I can ask her. I’m sure she’s bored out of her mind right now. If we put her up in a hotel for a few days I’m sure she’d keep an eye on you.”

“Could you stop talking like we’re silly little girls who haven’t ever done anything in their lives? We did just fine in New York by ourselves,” Jules reminded him with a raised, attitude-laden eyebrow.

“Yes, right up until the point you almost got yourselves robbed and killed in an alley.”

“Go to hell,” Jules shouted as she kicked her foot at Bobby’s shin and her tears turned to angry ones. “We don’t need your hot little partner coming with us.”

“She’s not hot,” Bobby said with a light kick back at her, like two children arguing over a toy. “She’s like one of the guys and maybe if you weren’t taking Frankie I wouldn’t even bring it up, but Piper won’t be able to be there for both of you. At least if you need help with something there will be an extra person out there.

“She is hot,” Piper snickered with a bump of her elbow to Bobby’s ribs. “But I actually agree with you this time. It might not hurt to have someone else with us. This way, if I have to bail you out of jail for kicking Michael’s ass, the baby won’t have to come with me.”

The plausibility of that scenario was enough to open a crack in Jules’s hardened stance. She wanted Frankie with her, but she knew there might be moments she’d want to shield her. Having someone else there, someone they trusted, could come in handy. “Fine,” she acquiesced as she handed Frankie the toy she was reaching for.

“Now we just have to figure out where exactly Michael is. I’ll be honest I don’t know much about his family in Ohio or where exactly he’d have gone.” Bobby leaned back on the couch and pulled out his phone. After typing in a few things he grimaced. “There are a lot of Coopers in Ohio. We’ll need to narrow this down somehow. What else do you know, Jules?”

“Next to nothing.” Jules shrugged, still angry with herself for being so blindly in love she’d ignored her own instincts about something being wrong. “But I know Michael and his father have the same name. He never uses the title, but I saw on some paperwork that he’s Michael Joseph Cooper, Jr., so his father must be Senior.

Bobby typed again and his already downturned mouth drew even lower. “I found his father. The family lives in Cincinnati. Shit,” he mouthed.

“What?” Jules asked shooting upright then sitting back down on the couch. “What is it? Just tell me.”

“His father was a senator for eight years. Then became a lobbyist and philanthropist. The family is . . .”

“Is what?”

“Loaded. Like mansion and sports cars rich. His mother’s name is Tabitha and his sister is Josephine.” Bobby spun the phone so Jules could see the photo from the newspaper article written about the untimely death of such a great man.

Jules lost her breath for a moment as she stared at the pictures. There were three. One was of a man who looked so similar to Michael, just older, that it made her want to cry again. She couldn’t tell if it was because she so desperately missed Michael’s face or if it was knowing this man was dead now. The second picture was of Michael’s mother and father standing in front of an enormous white house with a pillared porch and glossy front steps. Between them was the sweetest looking young woman with rosy cheeks in a gorgeous floral dress. This was Michael’s little sister, Josephine. She favored her mother, both of them with long, blond hair full of carefully sculpted waves, meant to look effortless but clearly taking time to create so beautifully. Their eyes were bright emeralds that lit up their whole face. The joy that came through in this picture made Jules ache for their loss and wonder why Michael had kept them from her. They looked like perfectly wonderful people.

Then as she looked at the third picture it all became clear. She looked at the picture of a much younger Michael, his hair longer and his face thinner, his body lacking the muscle he carried with him today. There he stood, his father’s arm around him as they leaned on a brand new cherry-red car that probably cost more than the house they were sitting in front of and all the cars in the driveway combined. The smile on Michael’s face was so large and the pride in his father’s eyes so apparent. Behind them was another angle of their sprawling and gorgeously landscaped home. Their clothes were pristine and designer. They were wealthy, likely incredibly so. It was clear now. There was nothing wrong with these people, no reason to hide them from her. It was her he was hiding. She didn’t fit at all into the world she was seeing in these pictures. He’d never want to bring someone like her home to a family of such prominence.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go,” she said, sucking in a deep breath. “It looks like the life he has out there doesn’t really go with the life I have. He must be embarrassed by me.”

“Shut your mouth,” Betty cut in as she tossed the dishtowel at Jules. “You are the best thing that ever happened to that man. If that’s the reason he’s been keeping you separate from his past then go find out and realize he’s a fool. But know there ain’t no amount of money in the world can make a bad person good. If you’ve got an ugly heart you can’t buy a new one. But a good person is worth his weight in gold. You’re plenty good enough for him and his family.”

“I’m sure that’s not it, Jules,” Piper said, reaching across Bobby and taking Jules’s hand. “We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Frankie let out a cry Jules knew meant she was hungry, and though she was exhausted she stood up and lifted the baby to her hip. “I’ve got to feed her.” She stepped out of the room and heard a set of footsteps behind her.

“Let me hold her while you make something,” Bobby said as he opened his arms to the baby who gladly reached out to be received.

“Thanks,” Jules said, handing the baby over. “But I think I should get used to doing it on my own. I might be alone from now on.”

Bobby kissed the top of Frankie’s head and then pulled Jules to him, planting an identical kiss through her mop of messy red hair. “No matter what you find there, you will never be in this alone. I love you, and I love this baby. I’m sorry you’re going through this, but don’t for a second worry that you’ll have to fly solo. You and Frankie will always have me.”

While his words brought her comfort, nothing could fill the cavernous sinkhole of fear that opened up the moment Michael left. She didn’t want to live a single day without her husband. She didn’t want her daughter to suffer the same fate she had and have to live for even a moment without her father. Bobby was a loyal and proven friend whom she loved dearly, but nothing would replace her husband. And no matter how tough she was trying to act, that reality was too powerful to ignore. She needed Michael.

Michael rolled the paper program in his hand over and over again as he wondered how many people in the room could decipher the lies from the truth regarding his late father. Friends and acquaintances strode up to the podium at his father’s funeral and, with somber faces, told stories of the man’s generosity, his brilliant business mind, and his loyalty. When someone died it wasn’t uncommon for him to become saint-like in the eyes of the living, but surely his father was so far from that for anyone to take this seriously. Michael wondered if they were fools or just as good at being despicable liars as his father was.

Though he was nearly drowning under his callus feelings, he could already see himself slipping back into his family’s world. He’d shaken a thousand hands, accepted condolences, and acted as though he gave a shit about the bastard in the casket at the front of the church right now. Like an actor transforming into an old familiar part, he was following the script laid out before him. It all came back to him like water over a dam the moment he’d seen his mother. She was always perfectly polished. Her designer dress and styled hair, the glimmering jewelry, and today, the black pillbox hat with a small veil covering half her face. Being back in her glamorous presence turned him back into the person she taught him to be. Fake.

As the last person stepped away from the microphone, his mother’s threatening glare forced him to go up. He’d told her at least ten times he didn’t want to speak. He’d let her decide what story she would spin to explain away his silence. She could blame it on overwhelming grief or laryngitis for all he cared. But like usual, in the presence of a crowd, she’d ignored what Michael said and put him on the spot. Every weepy eye in this church was focused on him now, and though his brain was filled with blazing curse words, his legs still carried him obediently to the podium.

“Thank you all so much for gathering here with us today,” Michael croaked out as he worked to find his voice.  Closing his eyes for a moment, his mind wandered to the courtroom, the place he always felt comfortable speaking, and he tried to channel that. “I see so many familiar faces along with some new ones.” Scanning the room he took stock of how ridiculous all of this was. He spotted a former business partner who’d been sold out by his father and ended up serving two years in prison as a result. There were two former secretaries who had turned quickly into mistresses. The years hadn’t been great to either of them and his father would likely not give them a second look were he alive today. “What can I say about my father?” Michael began slowly, hoping someone might stand up and give him that answer.

What special memories did he have of his father? There were no games of catch in the yard to speak of. Michael couldn’t think of a single time his father had attended any of his hockey practices. So like a good Cooper, he lied. “My father and I traveled frequently together. One trip to Paris in particular always resonates with me. As we ate at a little café my father began speaking to a waiter named Mel. He was a young kid with tired eyes who was covering a couple dozen tables like a pro. Mel was nineteen; he’d lost his parents in a car accident the previous summer and was now helping to care for his two younger siblings. He was determined to keep them all together. My father listened intently to this story and made sure Mel knew how impressed he was with not only his good intentions but how professional he was. When our meal was over my father pulled a roll of bills from his pocket and laid the equivalent of one thousand US dollars on the table. On the back of his business card he wrote a note.
If you would like to contact me I would be happy to interview you for a job with one of my Parisian partners.

“I remember sitting there thinking how much this would change Mel’s life and how my father had done this without a second thought. He saw someone who deserved a chance, and he didn’t hesitate to offer it to him. That’s how I choose to remember my father,” Michael said as he took in a deep breath and lowered his head as though he were gathering himself. In truth, he was trying to swallow down the true version of that story. Mel was actually Melanie. The scenario with her parents was the same but the job his father was offering her was far less admirable than how Michael had portrayed it in his story. Later on that trip to Paris he would see Melanie sneaking out of his father’s hotel room, her clothes disheveled and her hair a mess. Nothing about the note his father had left had been rooted in generosity. His father did nothing without getting something in return. But that story wouldn’t have set well with the mourning crowd.