Beneath the Surface (41 page)

The implications, the irony almost made her laugh. All these years she’d been denying her mother’s existence, killed her off in her heart and mind, and here the witch had done the same to Tabitha. “How did you find out I was still alive?”

“Your mother told me before she…before she died.”

She watched the tears roll down his cheeks, and tried hard not to feel any sympathy for this man who hadn’t been her father for more than two decades, longer than he had spent being a father to her. “So she came clean on her death bed, huh? How absolutely freaking melodramatic of her. How absolutely freaking like her!”

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Beneath the Surface

“Tabitha, I’d like you to come to the funeral.”

“No freaking way. I wrote that woman out of my life a long time ago. I wrote
you
out of my life for that matter. You’ve
both
been dead to me for a long time.”

“Tabby…” He tried to hug her but Tabitha stepped away.

“Don’t.” She couldn’t let him in. He’d only hurt her again.

“You won’t be able to live with yourself if you don’t get this closure.”

“Like you suddenly care about my mental well-being?”

“I know you may not believe it, but I do.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe it.” She pointed him to the door. “Please, just go.”

“Tabi—”

“Go. Get out now!” The anger boiled over as she opened the door. Anger for being abandoned so many times in her life she could no longer keep count. Abandoned by the man who’d provided the seed to her mother to make her, although he at least had an excuse, since he probably hadn’t known about her to begin with. Abandoned by the man her mother had married. Abandoned by her mother.

How much rejection was she supposed to take?

Edward drifted toward the door, his gait slow and lumbering, so unlike the sure and capable man she used to know as “Dad.”

She couldn’t let herself care a lick about what he used to be. What he used to be meant next to nothing to her. Just like
he
meant nothing to her.

Tabitha closed her door and sat down behind her desk. She waited a solid twenty minutes, just sitting in silence and doing nothing except staring into space, giving him plenty of time to get out and away from her and her office before she gathered her satchel and headed for the door.

“I’m going home for the day, Cynthia. If I get any calls, just call me on my cell.”

“Oh, okay.”

Tabitha didn’t give the girl a chance to ask the obvious question before she stormed past Cynthia’s desk and out the glass door.

* * * *

He intercepted the voicemail and picked up the phone when he heard his name.

“Hi Cynthia. What’s up?”

“Tabitha had a visitor here this morning, someone claiming to be her father, and he upset her pretty bad.”

“Father?” He wondered which one. The step or the biological?

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Gracie C. McKeever

“Yes, they argued and then she kicked him out. That was about a half-an-hour ago. Tabitha left here a few minutes ago herself. I think maybe you should be on the lookout for her.”

“Thanks for the head’s up, Cynthia. I will.” No sooner did he hang up, than someone knocked on the door.

EJ went to the door thinking maybe Tabitha had forgotten her keys in her rush to leave her office, but when he opened the door he was confronted with a middle aged man who looked about as upset as Cynthia had said Tabitha had been when she’d left.

“You must be Tabitha’s father.”

“She’s told you about me?”

“She’s mentioned you a time or two. I’m Eric Vega, her boyfriend.” EJ proffered a hand.

“Edward Lyons.”

As soon as Edward shook his hand, EJ had a flash of the woman in the car, the accident, crushed metal and spilled blood everywhere.

He staggered, grasping Edward’s hand extra tight as he squeezed his eyes closed.

“Are you all right?”

He opened his eyes to stare at Edward, nodded. “I’m fine. I just need something cold to drink. Can I get you something?”

“Ice water would be fine.”

“Coming up.” EJ headed for the fridge, poured himself and Edward ice water and brought the two frosted glasses back to the living room.

He’d thought twice about getting a beer, but didn’t want the old man to get the wrong impression about Tabitha’s beau. He was already home in just jeans in the middle of the day during the week. Drinking before noon probably wouldn’t go over too well, despite the fact that he thought he might need some alcohol to get through the next several minutes.

“Your name sounds familiar. You wouldn’t happen to be related to the author EJ

Vega, would you?”

EJ smiled, felt heat rushing to his face as he blushed. No matter how many times people recognized his name or complimented his work, he never tired of or got used to the acknowledgment. “Actually, I’m EJ Vega. It’s Eric James.”

“Ah, I thought you looked familiar. I recognize you from the picture on your book jacket.”

“So you’ve read
Reaching Out?
”

“I…I was in the midst of reading it before my wife died. I haven’t been able to pick it back up.”

“Tabitha’s mother?”

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Beneath the Surface

“Yes, she was in an automobile accident New Year’s Eve and died of her injuries a couple of days later.”

Damn, she’d had her accident the same day his father had had his heart attack.

How ironic was that? And how ironic that Tabitha had only just begun to reveal her family ties to him only to discover the most important one severed by death.

No wonder the kid had walked out of her office upset. EJ was almost afraid of the condition she would be in when she got home. He realized he wouldn’t have to wait long, however, when he heard her key in the door.

Dear Lord, he could just imagine the picture he and Edward made, sitting on the sofa, chatting nonchalantly when Tabitha opened the door.

She was much more calm than she’d been when Jade had met them out front of his loft after they’d gotten back from Colorado, seemingly slow to burn this time.

“God, I can’t get away from him,” she muttered as she slid her key out the lock and hung it on the pegboard. Louder, she asked, “What the hell is he doing here?”

Edward stood and turned to his daughter at the front door. “Tabitha—”

“When I asked you to leave, I didn’t just mean my office. I meant my life.”

“Maybe you should go Edward. I’ll talk to her.”

“So it’s Edward?” Tabitha’s eyebrows shot up. “My how friendly we’ve become with my boyfriend behind my back.”

“Tabby—”

“I told you not to call me that!” She turned her anger from her father to EJ. “And don’t think you
talking to me
is going to change my mind about this.”

“I’d better go.” Edward eased by Tabitha to the door, paused on the threshold and spoke to her back. “You should see her laid to rest, Tabitha.”

She ground her teeth, jaws furiously working. “Yeah, yeah, so you said. For closure. How about you close this!” She turned to give him the finger and EJ came forward to wrap his arms around her before she went after the man.

“I love you, Tabby. I never stopped.”

“I told you before, and I’ll tell you again. Get out of my house and get out of my life.”

“Tabitha…”

“Why is this so difficult for you? You’ve got practice, it should be easy.”

EJ winced as the man finally stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind himself.

He caught her by the shoulders and turned her to face him.

“Don’t say it. You think I was cruel.”

“Among other things.”

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“Well pardon me for not having a big warm loving family like yours. Call me Miss Dysfunctional.”

“Tabitha, stop it.”

“I don’t want to talk about this, Eric.”

“You need to.”

“I’m about tired of people telling me what I need to do!”

He slid his shields down, just a tad, and was immediately punished for his nosey invasion when a collage of painful images bombarded his senses, almost sending him to his knees. He slammed his shields shut again.

How did the woman live with all that agony buried inside her without succumbing?

“You not only need to…” He put his arms around her again, pulled her close and held tight. “You want to.”

“He left me, Eric. He
left
me, left us, and then she tracked him down and the two of them went their merry little way as if I never existed!”

“He didn’t know you were still alive.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’d already left me with the madwoman.”

“You don’t mean that, Tabby. You don’t want to think ill of her like that.”

“Why not? Because she’s dead? It doesn’t change what she did to me, what…what I went through when she left.”

He felt the tears before he saw them flowing out of her eyes, felt the sobs wrack her slim body as he held her against him.

“She’s dead, Eric. My Mom’s dead.”

“I know, baby, but it’s going to be okay. You’re going to go to that funeral and put this all to rest. Put her to rest.”

“I’m afraid. I’m so afraid I’m going to wind up like her, be like her, be a…” She shook her head against him, the rest of her words muttered against his bare chest.

He didn’t need to hear her, because he knew.

She didn’t want to be a madwoman.

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Tabitha started the week off after the visit from her father going back and forth with Eric to the hospital before his father was finally released home after a week and with a clean bill of health.

Joe’s doctors expected him to make a full recovery, predicting a lot of years left for him to spend with his family and friends as long as he followed medical advice which of course included eating right and exercising.

Eric’s mom had started laying down the law in the hospital before her husband was even released, told him he was going to accompany her on her morning walks as soon as he got out of the hospital, stressed he needed more exercise than just what he got mowing the lawn and fiddling with the engines of his classic cars.

Tabitha loved hearing Eric’s stories about his father’s recovery and his mother’s drill sergeant demeanor when it came to getting her husband back in shape. As much as she wanted to, however, she knew she couldn’t continue to bury herself in his family triumphs forever, had to face her own family, or what there was left of it.

The day after Eric’s father’s release from the hospital was her mother’s funeral and Tabitha woke up with butterflies in her stomach as if she weren’t going to see her mother laid to rest, but instead going for a visit after so many motherless, empty years.

When would she stop looking for her mother’s love and approval?

Eric was already up and half-dressed, clad in black slacks, shoes, a black shirt and a black silk tie. He seemed more eager to get this day over with than she did.

“Finally up?”

“I didn’t sleep too well.”

“I know. I felt you tossing and turning.” He came to the bed, sat down beside her and grasped a hand. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”

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She squeezed his hand back. “I know.” If it hadn’t been for Eric’s constant harangue over the last few days about family ties and obligation she wouldn’t be going to the funeral at all, but he’d finally gotten through her defenses with the same thing her father had said: she needed closure, and she would regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t see her mother laid to rest.

Tabitha still doubted the wisdom of going, had no idea how she’d react to seeing her father, but Eric convinced her to try and forgive if not forget, to resolve her issues with her stepfather while she had the chance.

“You never know what’s around the corner, Tabitha. Who knew my father would
have a heart attack? I’m lucky he survived, that he recovered and I have more chances to
show him how much I love him, how much he means to me. You’ve got that same chance
with your father. Don’t let it slip away…”

God, did the man have to be so wise and right about everything?

She should have been upset with Eric for running interference between her and her father but couldn’t find it in her to be angry, especially after what had happened to his father. She knew Eric was feeling extra sensitive about father-child relationships and understood he wanted her to reconcile with her stepdad before it was too late.

She had loved him once when he was her whole world. Could she love him again when he hadn’t been in her world for so long?

Eric leaned in to kiss her forehead now, and caressed her hair before standing and sauntering back to the mirror to finish knotting his tie.

Tabitha got out of bed, took a quick shower and put on her all-purpose black dress before she styled her long hair in an elegant and sedate chignon.

Eric came over to her, black suit jacket on as he cupped her face and kissed her on the mouth, sliding in his tongue for a lingering French kiss as if trying to transfer his strength to her.

“I’m okay, Eric.” She finished putting in her diamond studs then made her way to the living room to retrieve their coats.

Eric drove them to Butler, New Jersey in a little under two hours, getting them to the church several minutes after the ceremony had already begun.

The church, though sizable, was packed with mourners.

Twenty years worth of friends and acquaintances. Twenty years worth of Fourths of July, Memorial Days, Thanksgivings, Christmases and New Year’s Eves. Twenty years worth of birthdays. Twenty years worth of anniversaries.

They had built a life in New Jersey, carved out a nice little existence without her.

She swallowed the giant-sized lump in her throat, realized she was jealous that they had been able to be happy without her, or because they had left her.

Maybe it had taken her father leaving to make her mother come around, realize what she had lost, that she had had a good man who worshipped the ground upon which she walked, and she needed to straighten up and fly right to get him back and keep him.