Thin Ice (38 page)
father and I more than one uneasy moment."
The Montgomery's were having money problems?
Emily was stil trying to absorb that one when Patricia suddenly rose. “If you'l excuse me, Emily, I have some long overdue business to attend to.” She met Emily's eyes, fire in her own. “The first time Ryan got into trouble, his father convinced me to let him be, saying the boy would grow out of his irresponsibility. I foolishly gave in, and kept on giving in as he grew into manhood, but no more. No son of mine wil get away with ignoring his only child."
"Patricia—wait."
But Patricia was on a rol. “You were married to my son. You bore him a child. I intend to see that at the very least, Ryan honors his financial obligations to you and Robbie."
She was halfway out the door before Emily caught her arm.
“Patricia, no,” she said firmly, desperately, envisioning the mayhem this would create. “We don't need the money. We don't want it.
We don't want anything from Ryan. Do you understand?"
"But Robbie's a Montgomery."
"No. He's a Jordan. He's been my son since the moment he was conceived. My son. Not Ryan's. Ryan's name appears on no document pertaining to his birth."
"Emily, as his grandmother, I owe it to him to—"
"Emily, as his grandmother, I owe it to him to—"
"You owe him nothing, Patricia. Nothing. You don't even exist as far as he's concerned.” Somehow she had to get through to the woman.
Patricia stiffened, then wilted. “But he's my only grandchild..."
Emily's heart softened. “I understand that, and you're more than welcome to see him, but on our terms. No money."
"I can see him? When?"
"That depends on Robbie. It has to be his choice, his decision. He's confused enough as it is after what Ryan put us through. I won't see him hurt again."
"Ryan saw the boy?"
"No, but I was afraid he might try to, so I had to warn Robbie.
Ryan threatened to take him away from me."
Patricia's jaw dropped. Emily gently escorted her back into her office. “I didn't mention it earlier because I thought it was over.
Ryan made some demands, I met them, and he stopped harassing me."
"Harassing you?"
"He threatened to sue for custody of Robbie, on several occasions."
"He threatened to sue for custody of Robbie, on several occasions."
Patricia clearly found this incomprehensible. After what she'd just told Emily about Ryan and his grandmother's trust fund, Emily could understand why. Then again, maybe he'd found a loophole in the wil and had thought if he had custody of Robbie, he'd be able to get his hands on his grandmother's money that much sooner. She'd have to have another talk with Miguel. Ryan might not be through with her, after al.
"But Ryan's going to marry Catherine...” Patricia began.
"His argument, exactly. He insisted the two of them would make better parents than myself."
"Impossible. Catherine doesn't want children. She's made that very clear to him. Her career comes first."
"Are we talking about the same Ryan Montgomery here?” The one who had done his best to keep her from having a career so that she could stay home and cater to him?
"His relationship with Catherine is different than yours. Catherine treats him like a lap dog."
"And he lets her?"
"She's got the power he craves, the status...” Patricia lowered her eyes and flushed. “...the money. He wants this marriage so badly he's terrified of doing anything to jeopardize their relationship."
"He's told you that?"
"No, but I'm his mother and I'm not blind ... or deaf. Several weeks ago she suggested she might want to postpone the wedding. He nearly fel apart after she left. Flew into an uncontrolable rage. I've never seen him like that before. Afterward, he courted her relentlessly, until she agreed to leave things as they were."
"Does Catherine know about his temper?"
"He's kept it wel hidden from her, but I believe she suspects.
Secretly, I was glad when she proposed pushing back the wedding date. I hope she'l come to her senses in time."
"And if she doesn't?"
"No offense, Emily, but I've already learned what happens when I try to interfere with my son's marital plans."
"None taken.” She and Ryan had eloped after a bitter argument with his parents. They hadn't considered her good enough for him.
Which was exactly why he'd married her. To spite them.
"Besides, John wants this marriage as much as Ryan does."
"And what John wants, John gets."
Patricia's bitter smile returned. “Exactly."
Emily couldn't stay silent. “Does he stil—"
"Yes."
"Then why do you stay?” Emily asked softly.
Patricia looked away. “I'm not like you. I don't have a profession.
I've never worked. Al I know is being a doctor's daughter, a doctor's wife. I'd have nothing if I left John."
"You'd have yourself."
Patricia sent her a bewildered look.
"Think, Patricia. How many charity bals have you organized? How many boards have you sat on? How many fundraising drives have you led? You're a lot more talented than you think, and a hel of a lot more talented than your husband gives you credit for."
"Do you realy think so?"
"I know so. I've seen you in action. Resented you, even.” Patricia's eyebrows lifted. “Ryan was always teling me how I could never live up to your sterling example."
Patricia winced, and Emily waved a dismissive hand. “But that's the past. We're talking about the future now. Your future. If you stay with John, do it because you want to, not because you feel you have no choice."
The women's gazes locked over the desk. Emily wasn't sure how the conversation had gotten so sidetracked. Briefly she questioned the wisdom of counseling Patricia on such matters, but while they'd talked, she'd forgotten who Patricia was, and treated her as she would any other battered woman who had come to her for advice.
And felt damned good about doing so.
Patricia lowered her eyes first. “I couldn't face the shame."
Emily knew what she meant. The scandal, the social ostracism, the smears that would accompany the divorce of such a prominent couple. Her own divorce had been quiet, but she hadn't been spared the social ostracism. She'd lost her own family over it.
"I can't help you with that, Patricia. The best I can do is refer you to some excelent counselors I know."
"Harmony House?"
Patricia clearly hadn't considered the shelter as an option for a woman of her financial means. Emily smiled gently. “They make no class distinctions there, Patricia. They'l help anyone who wants to be helped."
* * * *
In the beginning Anna had tried to get Emily to read the letters of thanks she received in return for the checks, but Emily had refused, saying she didn't do it for the thanks. The truth was she couldn't stand the thought of being written to as if she were a stranger. So Anna had stopped asking, and to this day, Emily had no idea what she did with the letters.
Usualy Emily was able to pretend she was simply helping some deserving students find a better life. But tonight—after her unexpected reunion with Patricia Montgomery and their discussion about family obligations—Emily was al too aware that the people she helped through the foundation were her own brothers and sisters. Brothers and sisters she hadn't seen in nine years.
She missed them so much. Missed their laughter, their love, their sharing. They hadn't had much, but what they'd had, they'd shared without reserve.
She took a sip of tea, and tried to imagine the adults they'd become.
It was hard to picture them with homes and families of their own when the last time she'd seen them, they'd been a rag-tag bunch of when the last time she'd seen them, they'd been a rag-tag bunch of adolescents with disappointment and disilusion duling their eyes.
She leaned her elbows on the desk and rubbed the heel of her hand across her brow in frustration.
She'd been their leader. Their big sister. The one they'd turned to for comfort, security, and solace. The one they'd depended on to help them escape the hel into which they'd been born. By earning a scholarship to a local colege, she'd given them something to strive for. When she'd been accepted into medical school, they'd sent her off with proud tears in their eyes. When she'd written to say she'd met a wonderful man, they'd been thriled for her. When she'd brought him home to meet them, they'd been charmed. When she'd told them she and Ryan had eloped, they'd understood.
Maybe it had been wrong to let them pin their hopes on her, but she'd wanted to show them it was possible to break the chains of poverty. To prove it was possible to overcome the handicap of a severely dysfunctional family. Their mother had loved them, but she hadn't stood a chance against their abusive, tyrannical father.
But then it had al gone sour. And when she'd realized she'd escaped one hel only to enter another, she'd been too ashamed to tel her family the truth. Instead, she'd come home one weekend and quietly told them she'd left her charming husband.
But by divorcing Ryan she had committed the unforgivable. Divorce was unacceptable in her Catholic family. As proof, one needed only to look as far as her parents. What else besides her faith would have enabled Catrina DeAngelo to endure over thirty years of have enabled Catrina DeAngelo to endure over thirty years of marriage to an over the road trucker who spent five days a week on the road, then drank and ran roughshod over her during the two he was home?
Years later, once Emily had attained her goal of becoming a doctor, she'd considered trying to make peace with her parents. She'd even gone so far as to cal them. But her father had answered the phone and told her she was dead to them al.
She might have pushed the issue if it hadn't been for Robbie. Might have tried to contact her siblings directly. If they'd rejected her and her alone, she might have borne the disappointment. But she'd refused to subject Robbie to the pain of knowing he had aunts, uncles and possibly cousins who would refuse to see him simply because she'd divorced his father.
But now they were adults, she mused, as she tamped the month's canceled checks into a neat pile. Educated adults, wel beyond their father's reach, and capable of making their own decisions.
Should she try again? After al this time?
Her pride said no, you have enough on your plate as it is, but her reunion with Patricia Montgomery had planted a seed of hope in her heart. If she could make amends with a woman she'd been convinced hated her, why couldn't she do the same with her own flesh and blood?
As the night grew longer, Emily brewed more tea and thought about her family until she ached to hear her mother's voice. Did she stil hoard her grocery money? Did she stil buy cheap knick-knacks to brighten up the house, knowing the expensive ones broke just as easily? Did she stil spend Friday afternoons cleaning until the house shone, Sunday mornings sweating over the one solid meat and potatoes dinner a week the family had always shared after church?
Did she stil love her husband?
Her husband. Emily's father. Emily tried, but couldn't conjure up a picture of the embittered man who blamed his wife and children for the loss of his freedom and his inability to afford his own eighteen-wheeler. Duane Jordan had long since receded into the dim recesses of Emily's mind, his memory serving only to keep her from losing sight of her own goals. From losing sight of her vow to see that her younger siblings attained their goals ... even if she had to honor her childhood promises to them through anonymity and deception.
But the time for deception and fear was over. She'd faced Ryan and won. She'd reconciled with Patricia. Surely she could face whatever Duane Jordan chose to throw her way.
In the morning she caled home.
Catrina Jordan answered on the third ring. For a moment Emily thought she'd dialed the wrong number. It was Saturday before noon. She'd caled thinking her father would be asleep. Instead, loud rock music blatted in the background.
"Mama?"
"Just a minute, dear, I can't hear you. Annalise! Wil you please turn that down? I'm on the phone with your sister.” The noise level lowered several decibels. “Forgive your baby sister's rudeness. She seems to have forgotten her manners today."
"Helo, Mama, it's—"
"Merciful God in heaven."
Annalise's concern floated across the line. “Mama, what's wrong?
Who is it?"
"It's ... Emily."
Emily waited in dread, expecting to hear her father booming next, expecting to be cut off any second.
Annalise came on the line. “You'l have to hold on a minute, Emily.
Mama's crying. Mama, come on,” Annalise cajoled. “Emily caled to talk, not to listen to you cry."
Emily heard a muffled, weepy response, and felt the guilt of a child.
She'd never meant to make her mother cry.
She'd never meant to make her mother cry.
"Another minute, Emily, she's getting her handkerchief. So where are you? In Detroit?"