ENCORE PERFORMANCE (THE MATCHMAKER TRILOGY) (17 page)

When she could, Jane pushed back. Her eyes settled on
the young woman visiting Sarah’s grave with her son. A
tightening in her chest made her force a smile. Was this his
wife? Had he married without telling her? Did he have a
family? Was she a grandmother? Oh, it wasn’t fair that
he’d left her out of his life.

Thomas reached for the woman’s hand, and she
walked toward them. “Mom, this is Carissa.” Carissa held
out her hand. “Carissa, this is my mother, Jane . . .”

He paused, his eyes seeking hers for confirmation.
“Jane Bennett,” she provided.
Carissa shook her hand, but Jane could feel it twitch

with nerves in hers.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Bennett.”
“Jane, please.” She studied the woman who was

obviously nervous in her presence. Thomas’s eyes shifted
between them as though he wanted her to accept the
woman as someone he cherished. Trying hard to
understand everything she was taking in, she smiled and
asked, “Are you Thomas’s wife?”

Carissa opened her mouth to speak, but no words came
out. No, she wasn’t his wife, but she was finding that she
desperately wanted to be.

“Carissa is the daughter of one of the women I toured
with in Europe,” Thomas said, and Carissa felt the pain in
her heart. She wouldn’t expect him to say
wife
, because she
wasn’t. However, he hadn’t said
girlfriend
either. Hell,
lover
would have at least given the woman an idea that they
had an intimate relationship. It was as though he’d
dismissed her entirely, not even considering her a friend,
and then he’d continued. “Carissa is a cellist. I’m helping
her set up a music school.”

As if the reunion of son and mother wasn’t emotional
enough, his words kept stabbing at her.
“You’re a musician too?” His mother looked at her and
Carissa nodded. It was all she could do.

Jane focused back on her son. “I called you a while
back. Actually”—she sucked in a breath—“I called you
every year on your birthday once I knew you were in Italy
and Paris.”

“Yes. I always spoke to . . .” She appeared to give it
some thought. “Pablo?”
Thomas felt his lips press together. He’d thought Pablo
had dismissed his mother because he’d been mad at him.
But had he been protecting him for years? He shook off the
thought.
“I called you after your accident. Oh, Thomas, I was so
afraid I’d lose you before I could tell you how sorry I was
for everything.”
His head was spinning and he saw Carissa take a step
back. He hadn’t mentioned the accident. He hadn’t
intended to.
“I followed you on the Internet so closely. When you
were in that car accident with that man, and they thought
he’d die, well, I almost flew to your side. But when I called
I was told that you didn’t want me around.” She wrung her
hands and Madison stepped up to her and took her hand.
Jane clung to her daughter as though trying to take the
strength and support she was offering. “I love you,
Thomas.”
Thomas took a deep breath. This was an opportunity to
accept back what he’d run from. His father had died.
Shaking his head he thought, what a coward. That blood
ran through him. A coward’s blood.
His jaw tightened.
Jane opened her purse and found a piece of paper. She
took out a pen and wrote something out. “Here. This is my
address. My husband and I live just outside Chicago. I
added my phone number as well.” She handed him the
paper, and her hand shook. “Thomas, I’d like you to visit
us. I’d like you to be part of my family again. You’re my
son,” she reminded him. “I lost Sarah. I couldn’t help that.
She died in my arms.” She sniffed back the tears. “I lost
you. I could have helped that. I should have helped that.”
She reached for his hand. “I know what you think.”
Thomas looked into his mother’s eyes. They stared
back. “You are not your father. Please, please never think
that.”
Thomas swallowed hard. It was hard not to think that,
especially when he looked at his mother and then at his
sister. Another set of eyes that matched Sarah’s looked
back up at him. He’d given up on family and the meaning
of family years ago. He’d rejected the idea that he’d ever be
part of one again, but he had been brought into one. Sophia
and David opened their doors and their hearts to him.
Carissa fell in love with him. He had a mother and a sister
who wanted him to be part of their lives.
His heart raced again. It was like falling off of a bike
and not wanting to get back on, but when you did you’d
know what to do. He wasn’t sure he wanted to ride again.

Carissa fumed in her seat as they drove back from the
cemetery. When Thomas stopped the car, she flew out of
the passenger side and into the hotel room. She pulled
clothes from the rack and out of the dresser.

Thomas stepped through the door as she threw her
belongings into the suitcase in a violent storm.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Don’t talk to me. Please don’t talk to me.”
“Carissa, apparently I’ve missed something.” He
closed the door behind him. “What are you so angry
about?”
“Oh, Thomas, it’s not worth even discussing. I want to
go home. Our business here is done and we just need to go
home.”
Her voice cracked as she spoke. Her heart was
breaking. She knew by the look in his eyes he knew he’d
caused it, but he was too inconsiderate to understand why.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him.
“Stop.”
She pulled against him, but it was no use. She didn’t
want to fight him, she wanted to love him, but he wasn’t
letting her. She collapsed against his chest and sobbed,
trying to hold tight to what she wanted, but what he refused
to give her.
He stroked his hand down her hair. “Now take a
minute and tell me what the hell is wrong.”
She took a few deep breaths and considered her
feelings. Most of all she was upset with herself. She’d
wanted him to introduce her to his mother as the woman he
loved. However, the way he'd done it said she was nothing
more to him than a daughter of an old friend. She’d felt
betrayed. He held her when she slept. He consoled her
when she was upset, yet he’d not been able to admit that he
loved her or at least say he only wanted sex. It should be at
least that simple.
And why had Jane Bennett wanted to fly to his side
when he was in Paris? Who had almost died? What else
wasn’t he telling her?
When her breathing returned to normal, she looked up
into his patient eyes. “Tell me you love me, Thomas. Tell
me you want to be with me forever and that you want a
future with me.”
His eyes flew open wide and she began to sob again.
“Carissa, I don’ think this is the time or place . . .”
“It never will be, will it?” She pushed her hair from her
face and stepped back. She spun away from him and zipped
up the suitcase she’d hastily packed. He stepped to her and
touched her shoulder.
“Carissa, my feelings for you are so strong.”
“Strong?” She turned back toward him. “Strong?
That’s not what I want, Thomas. What I want you can’t
give me.”
“I told you that. I’ve always been honest about that.”
She nodded. “Yes, you have. I can’t believe I was
stupid enough to believe it would change.”
She picked up the suitcase and walked past him.
Carissa put her suitcase in the trunk of the car while he
packed his suitcase. The thought had crossed her mind to
drive away. To drive fast and escape anymore heartache,
but she couldn’t leave him. It hurt so bad because she loved
him.
Thomas put his suitcase in the car and pulled the keys
from her fingers. “I’ll drive. You look like you could use
the rest.”
He walked to the other side of the car and Carissa
stood at the back. Perhaps it was better that she was angry
with him; when he gave up on her completely it wouldn’t
matter. She didn’t even want to drive back with him. That
alone was going to be torture.
She walked around the car and pulled her door open.
“Why did you even come with me?” Her calm was
gone as she slammed the door and turned toward him.
“Why are you even still helping me with the school? What
interest does it hold for you?”
He started the car and sat with the engine running. “I
believe in the school, Carissa. I believe in you.”
“You believe in me, but not enough to love me.”
“I’m not the kind of man you want in your life.”
“That’s what you think. I heard your mother with my
own ears. You’re not your father.”
“No, I’m worse.” He tunneled his fingers through his
hair and then gripped the steering wheel.
Carissa sat silently for a few moments. “Please tell me
you respect me enough you’ll explain yourself.”
“I will. And once we get back to Kansas City I’m
moving out.”
She wasn’t sure it was possible to feel your heart
break, but she did. She felt it rip right in two. She’d wished
he’d never come to Chicago with her and that he’d quietly
disappeared while she was gone. That would have been
much easier to handle.
“Never mind. If you’re walking out of my life, I guess
I don’t really need to know.”

By the time Thomas pulled the car into the driveway,
the sun was coming up. They hadn’t stopped except to get
gas. He’d bought them sandwiches at the gas station, but
Carissa had refused to eat hers. When he put the car into
park, she flew from the seat into the house and locked
herself in her bedroom.

Thomas took his time gathering their belongings from
the car. He’d walked her case to her door and set it just
outside. He could hear her sobbing. His heart wanted him
to knock on the door and apologize, but his head said run.
Leave her to find what she needed, knowing he wasn't it.

He stepped away and walked down the hall to his
room. His eyes burned from lack of sleep and now they
were tearing up.
Dammit, be a man. Men don’t cry over
women
, he told himself just as his father would have, but
the tears broke free. The bottled-up emotions of going back
to Chicago, seeing his sister’s grave, and hearing his
mother’s voice crashed through him. He sat on the edge of
the bed and cried.

It all hurt, but even worse was knowing he’d broken
Carissa’s heart.
The woman loved him, and dammit, he loved her. Why
couldn’t he just accept that?
Because, he knew, in the end her hurting now would
be less than when he hurt her later. If he told her he loved
her, and they moved forward, things would just get worse.
What if someday he touched her, hurt her, perhaps—oh
God—even killed her?
He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. Then he
reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out the slip of
paper his mother had given him and his cell phone.
With trembling fingers he dialed the number she’d
written down.
“Hello?” A sleepy voice answered. Thomas looked
over at the clock. It was only six in the morning. He’d
awoken her.
“It’s Thomas,” he said softly.
“Thomas!” Her voice was fully awake now. “Oh, I
didn’t think you’d call.”
“I’m sorry for waking you.”
“No. No. You call me anytime.” Her voice was shaky
and he knew she was crying. “Are you still in Chicago?”
“No. I just got back to Kansas City.”
“Is that where you live?”
He let out a sigh. “For the moment.” He scrubbed his
free had over his unshaven chin. “Mom, I’d like to come
visit for a few days.”

His mother lived in a nice house. There was a Lexus
and a BMW in the driveway of the two-story home with the
porch light on. He climbed from the rental car and stood in
the street taking in the view.

The house they’d lived in when he was a small child
nearly had fallen in around them. The house he’d fled from
and never returned to had been a block from a run-down
bar, with furtive strangers exchanging money for small
packages on street corners.

Jane Bennett opened the front door and stepped
outside. She seemed so much older than when he’d left so
many years ago. He thought too, the man who walked
toward her now certainly wasn’t the young man whom she
remembered as her little boy or whom she’d held, bleeding
against her in the floor of the closet.

She ran her hands down her arms as though fighting
off the chill. He saw the wedding ring on her hand as he
neared. Whomever she’d married had been someone much
different from his father. Clothing, jewelry, cars, and a
beautiful house fitted her. As a young man, he’d always
wished such wonderful things for his mother, wished he
could give them to her.

“Thomas, I’m glad you’ve come.” She smiled and he
felt his chest tighten. As he cleared the last step and stood
face-to-face with her on the porch, she held out her arms
and he fell into them as though he were still that little boy.

“Oh, Mom, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed so much.” He
sobbed against her shoulder. She raised her hand to his
head and stroked his hair. He gasped a breath when he
realized he was home.

“I’ve missed you too,” she said softly against his
cheek, and suddenly all the nights he’d spent being so alone
and scared disappeared. She missed him. She’d wanted him
back and now he was.

When he could finally breathe and the tears had almost
dried, he took a step back and his mother held tight to his
hands and looked him over. He’d been a skinny boy, shy,
with no confidence. He hoped that she’d see he wasn’t a
weak child anymore, but that she’d look at him as a strong
man, a man of the world. Strong, not in physical strength
like his father, but in heart, like she was.

“Come inside.” She took his hand and led him into the
well-furnished home.
The young girl he’d seen at the cemetery sat on the
couch watching television. She stood when she saw him
walk through the door with their mother.
“You remember Madison?”
“I didn’t get the chance to say hello.” He held out his
hand and she shook it timidly.
He couldn’t help but stare at her. Her eyes, her hair,
her build all matched Sarah. His mother patted his
shoulder, obviously knowing what was going through his
mind.
A man emerged from the other room. He was tall, at
least as tall as Thomas. His hair was white and even
lounging in his home, he wore slacks, his T-shirt tucked
into them. A heavy white mustache shadowed his top lip.
Thomas figured he was at least ten years older than his
mother.
“Thomas, this is my husband, Parker Bennett.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Thomas,” he said,
holding his hand out for him to shake.
Acceptance, Thomas realized, something he’d never
had from his own father. Reeling at the unexpected
welcome, he shook the man’s hand.
“Why don’t the two of you go into the kitchen? I just
made a pot of coffee and Madison and I are going to head
upstairs,” he offered, pausing as Jane kissed his cheek.
“Thomas, it was nice to meet you. I hope you’ll be visiting
for a while.” He smiled and escorted his daughter up the
stairs.
“I can’t believe . . .”
“How much she looks like Sarah?” They watched them
disappear to the second floor.
“Yes.”
“I will admit there are days I find myself calling out
the wrong name. I know she’s used to that. But I feel bad
about it.” She looked up at him. “She’s very familiar with
both of you. I’ve made sure she knows her brother and
sister. I’d always hoped you’d return.”
“I should have been back a long time ago.”
“You’re back now.” She patted his arm as she walked
him to the kitchen.
Thomas sat at the table while his mother poured them
each a cup of coffee. He looked around the kitchen. A few
of the small artifacts that sat on shelves or hung on the
wall, he recognized. They’d been part of his home years
and years ago.
Jane turned from the counter and let out a small,
nervous laugh.
“I just realized I’ve never prepared a cup of coffee for
you. How do you like it?”
“Just black is fine.”