Knowing Vera (Romantic Suspense, Family Drama) (Chance for Love) (14 page)

I sit across a carved rosewood dining table from my father. Everything is decorated in a Chinese style, from the wall paintings to the embroidered seat cushions. The only thing that doesn’t look Chinese is my father. His face is as dark as ever with the large brown eyes you see on Russian religious icons. A deep sadness rises in my chest. I can see both my departed brothers, Rey Jr. and Rod, in his features and expressions.

We wait for the servants to retreat. Papa bows his head and says grace. Bile roils in the back of my throat. How genteel and refined he is, with his fingernails trimmed and polished, not a hair out of place, his shirt starched and white. Visions of dark red blotches splattering the shirt, staining and spreading over the white, fill my mind. I mumble “Amen” and lift my head in time to see my father staring hard at me.

“You’re as beautiful as your mother,” he says. “She’s the first woman I loved. Tell me, is she well?”

“She is.” I pick at the flat onion pancakes and sesame buns. “Why are we having Chinese food for breakfast?”

What I really want to ask him about is this entire Ping ruse, including my so-called name, Cecelia.

“I like it. It’s my new identity.” He expertly picks up a strip of jellyfish with a pair of chopsticks.

“Sorry, I don’t care where you are, you’re still Rey Custodio and you’re Pinoy, like the rest of our family.”

Papa stirs his congee and slurps it. “Not here. I’m Anson Ping, you’re Cecelia, and my sons are Ben and Dex.”

I drop the chopsticks. “You’ve forgotten Rey Jr. and Rodrigo?”

He grimaces. “Of course not. I grieved for them, but a man must move on.”

Tears swarm in my eyes, and I fight to control them. The teacup jiggles in my hand; I hastily take a sip. “A man can move on, but not a woman. If Mama knew, you’d break what’s left of her heart. Don’t you feel even a little bit bad about this?”

“Yes. That’s why I want to bring all of you here to live with me. Your mother will not have to struggle to find work. I’ll give her an entire wing of this mansion. Louie will have the best medical care, and you? You can do anything you want: sing, paint, travel. I owe it to you and your mother. What do you say?”

He looks expectant, as if he were a god bestowing beneficence on me.

“We have our lives. Mama is happy and there’s also my niece, Emily, who has to stay with her legal father. Even though I raised her, we’ll never get custody.”

My father cracks his knuckles. “That can be arranged. She’s my flesh and blood.”

I push away from the table and stand. “No. You’ve done enough damage already.”

“
Anak
, I can’t go back and undo things. Sit, and finish breakfast with me.”

I sink into the silk cushion but my heart is heavy and my stomach in knots. He slurps the porridge and chews on the buns as if it were the most normal breakfast in history. I can’t touch the food. I want to be on the airplane and fly, fly, fly away. But no matter how far I go, I’ll never escape the memory of Zach’s ocean-blue eyes and what could have been.

“Eat.” My father pushes a tray of fried dough sticks in front of me. “Why are you so sad? I’m offering you a home and an inheritance.”

“I can’t take it. Just can’t. You killed a woman, Zach’s mother. Why?”

He sets both hands on the table and stops chewing. “I heard what you said in the tunnel. Did you mean it?”

I look him square in the eye. “Yes, I love him—but because of you, I have to leave. They never told him how his mother died.”

“He doesn’t have to know.” My father stirs his congealing porridge.

“This is not something I can live with.” I feel like slamming the porridge in his face. “How can you sit there calmly and tell me it’s okay?”

“Because we can’t change the past.”

“But you can do the right thing, starting now. Turn yourself in, Papa.”

“Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. You think you can come here, after I’ve worked so hard to build a life for myself, and tell me to destroy it? For what? So you can claim a gold star with the Spencer family and cling onto that crippled son of theirs?”

I shove my bowl at him and spill it on the tablecloth. “I can’t believe I’m sitting across from a murderer. I can’t believe you’re my father, the one who kissed me good night, tucked me in and read stories to me. You gave me Bing-Bing to hug when you weren’t around. You told me you loved me, and now, what’s happened to you?”

“Vera!” he snaps, but I tear from the dining room. I push open the double doors and smash into a servant. The tray of fruit scatters across the cream colored rug, but I don’t stop. No one intervenes.

Gasping and sobbing, I run into my suite and kick off my heels. My suitcase is tucked in the closet. I remove the floral dress I wore to breakfast and pull on a pair of jeans, running shoes and a lacey cami topped with a chiffon v-neck blouse with sheer long sleeves to battle both the mosquitoes and the summer heat.

Zach’s phone is charging on the nightstand where I left it. Who the heck changed his background screen to a picture of Cliff? Aaarrgh!

No time to mess with it. There’s a voice message from Maryanne, seven missed calls from an Australian number, probably Aunt Addy’s inn and most likely from Zach.

I close my eyes and say a prayer for him. Once everything comes out, he’ll understand why I had to leave. If I had known last night that I’d never feel his arms around me again, never kiss his tender lips, never hear his sexy voice …

I retrieve the voicemail from Maryanne.

“Vera, what’s going on?” she says. “Zach says you’re missing. Did you run off, or should he call the police? Call me as soon as you can.”

The last thing I need is the police. I recheck my luggage and make sure all of the clothes are where they should be. I don’t want a single item from the wardrobe my father provided, not a thread. After packing my toothbrush and makeup, I call Maryanne. She picks up immediately.

“Vera? Zach?” Her voice is more high-pitched than usual.

“It’s Vera. Listen, I’m okay. Tell Zach not to worry. Something came up and I have to go home.”

“Running from your problems never solves anything. Zach didn’t sound like he was angry.”

“He will be when he finds out. I can’t talk about it right now. I have to call a cab and get out of here before anyone stops me.”

“Why would they stop you? Where are you?”

“I can’t say. Tell everyone I’m fine. Don’t let my mother or anyone worry, please?”

“You’re obviously not okay. Zach really cares about you. He’s worried sick.”

“Tell him … tell him it’s not him. He’s a wonderful man, truly.”

“Then why are you leaving? What’s so bad that you can’t talk to him yourself?”

“He’ll grow to hate me.”

Maryanne huffs and clucks her tongue. “Because you’re throwing him to the curb again? I don’t get you.”

My heart clenches, and I blink to keep the tears at bay. I love Zach Spencer, but there’s no way I can make up for what my father did to his family.

Maryanne continues her tirade. “… I mean, God forbid anyone should care about you, Vera. What has Zach ever done except open himself to you, and as for the past, you can’t hold it against him. He can’t help it if women—”

“Enough. You two have fun talking behind my back. I’ve got other things to do. Bye.” I end the call.

The phone rings as soon as I hang up. It’s the same Australian number Zach is using. My hands tremble, but I don’t pick it up. Instead, I silence the cell phone and shove it into my purse. I pack my overnight bag and drag everything behind me to the suite door.

Slowly, I open the door, half expecting Cliff to jump out and say “Boo.” It’s a little after ten o’clock, so he’s probably working. I sling my purse over my shoulder and walk confidently down the long paneled corridor.

When I reach the grand staircase, I realize I’ll make too much noise clattering my wheeled luggage down one step at a time. Instead, I struggle to pick up my suitcase in one hand and the overnighter in the other.

“
Ate,
going somewhere?” Ben approaches me with his thumbs hooked into his belt loops.

So, he’s calling me
Ate,
or elder sister, a term of respect. I lift my chin. “I’ve important business at home. Can you help me with the luggage and drive me to the airport?”

Dex strolls around the corner and rubs his hands. “That’s too bad. Can’t you stay for the concert?”

Ben opens a manila folder. “We’re going to the clubs tonight to put up flyers.”

My jaw drops. Benefit concert for Southeast Asian Refugees in Australia, featuring Cecelia Ping, sponsored by Ping Crest Winery, Melbourne, Victoria. There’s a picture of me holding a mic, taken during one of the practice sessions.

I grab the folder, scattering some of the flyers. “Are you idiots? You can’t put these flyers up. Everyone knows I’m Vera Custodio.”

“Not here they don’t.” Dex calmly picks up the flyers.

“Does Papa know about this?” I leave my luggage and walk toward my father’s quarters. “This is so stupid. All they have to do is match my face to my passport.”

I have to get this concert stopped, and I’m sure my father will agree.

Ben and Dex follow, mumbling to each other. I hear words like “crazy,” “hyper,” and “overreacting.”

A male servant guards the entry to my father’s chamber. I address him, “Where’s Mr. Ping? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s in a conference. I’ll let him know, Miss Ping.”

“Call her Cece,” Ben cuts in.

The servant sends a text message and gestures to me. “Follow me to the reception area.”

We walk at a quick pace through the patio into another wing of the house. The furnishings look more formal, with wooden wall panels and leather couches resembling a corporate board room. The servant checks his phone and says, “He’ll see you right away. But don’t take too long. He has a customer on the line.”

Ben and Dex follow me into the foyer in front of the conference room. I draw calming breaths when the tall mahogany door opens.

My father steps out. He takes both of my hands and rubs them. “
Anak
 …”

“Papa.” I show him a flyer. “Did you know about this?”

His face turns greyish. “Absolutely not. Whose idea is this?”

Cliff comes out of the conference room and glides over. “Ah, the benefit concert. Your picture came out so beautifully.”

“Cliff!” Papa says. “Have you put out any flyers?”

“Uh, Ben, Dex, have you?” Cliff passes the buck.

Ben shakes his head and Dex shrugs with his palms up. I could kick Cliff in the nuts for being so slimy.

“So,” Cliff says, “no harm done. Vera was the one who gave me the idea for a concert. She suggested that I be her manager and tour with her.”

“You! That was a joke.” I stomp my foot. “Okay, I’m outta here. Papa,” I kiss him, “you understand why I have to go.”

“
Iha,
” he kisses me on both cheeks and holds me, not letting go. “You’ll understand when you get to Heaven. She’ll tell you.”

I push away gently. “I want to hear it from you, no matter how bad.”

“Some secrets are not mine to tell.
Mahal kita,
Hun-Hun.” After saying he loves me, he wipes his eyes and heads back to the conference room. Something about the finality of it wrenches my heart, but he disappears behind the heavy door before I can call out.

Cliff hovers, torn between having to go back to the meeting and wanting to keep his eye on me. Finally, he says, “Check the flight times and text me when you’re ready to go.”

“I don’t need your help.” I give him a sideways glare. “Go back to the meeting, Mr. Estate Manager.”

Ben, Dex, and I walk sullenly from the conference area and head back to the main house. Since my phone is barely charged, I pull up a browser on Zach’s phone to check for flight times. MEL to SFO. I scroll and scroll, but am unable to book a flight for the day. The last one leaves at eleven and it’s already half past ten.

“What’s wrong?” Dex asks as he opens the door for me.

Ben peers over my shoulder. “Ah, bummer. No more flights today. Hey, let’s go clubbing instead. Might as well have some fun.”

“Great idea.” Dex shakes his shoulders and spins his arms. “There’s an electro-dance contest at the Grungy Caterpillar tonight.”

“Okay, sure. I should text my mother a few pictures so she won’t worry,” I say, pointing to a flock of cockatoos flapping their wings on the tree outside.

“We can take lots of bird pictures at the Dandenongs,” Ben says. “We can even feed them at Grants Picnic Ground.”

Sure, I have nothing to do until tomorrow, and getting to know my half-brothers is a good thing. Maybe they can help me understand what my father went through after he left us.

“Sounds great,” I reply. “Let me book my flight home first.”

I head upstairs, but when I reach the landing, I notice my suitcases are gone. “Who stole my luggage?”

“The maid must have taken them back to your room,” Dex says. “You seriously never had servants?”

I give him a level stare. Spoiled brat. He grins and shuffles. “Shucks, sorry.”

My chest is heavy and my throat lumpy. They look like half-Chinese versions of Rey and Rodrigo.

I reach my door. “Give me half an hour.”

“Sure thing,
Ate,
” they say in unison.

Watching them swagger down the hallway, I wonder why their mother left and if her name is Cecelia.

The ticket is expensive. I’ll be paying this off for a long time, but I can’t leave fast enough. My father’s manipulating me with his cryptic words. Secrets not his to tell. I’ll bet it’s about the baby who would be around twenty-three, roughly the same age as Cliff. Does my father know about Cliff’s marriage proposal?

I should have sprung that one on him, but no matter. I’ll be gone tomorrow. I’m sure Ben or Dex will take their dear
Ate
to the airport. I can’t help but like them. Such boys, with their silly grins and kung fu poses.

Zach’s phone vibrates with an incoming text message. It’s from Krista. “Hey stranger, when are we going to get together? I don’t have much time between projects.”

I consider texting her, but what should I say? She might be a really nice person, and for all I know, Zach’s been playing her too. I navigate to two text messages from Cliff. The first one reads, “Let’s elope. I’ll buy two tickets anywhere you want.”

The second one says, “Woohoo, look what I picked up at the side of the road today. Is this my Vera Morelli?”

As expected, he attached the picture of me with my messy hair wearing the SpongeBob shirt.

I text back. “Ask Mr. Ping if you’re even allowed to marry me.”

There. That ought to stew his juices. Too bad I won’t be around for the fallout when he finds out he’s my
bunso,
or younger brother.

Another text message rolls in. “Vera, please talk to me. At least tell me why you have to leave, Zach.”

I can hear his voice breaking, thinking I’m bothered by his leg. More than anything, I wish I could comfort him, because obviously, Maryanne wasn’t able to convey my message effectively.

I text. “I can’t. You’re wonderful, but something came up.”

“Whatever it is, we can work through it together.”

“Please don’t ask any more questions.”

“You said you’d give me a chance and now you’re shutting the door. Is this how you want to say goodbye?”

I close my eyes and sink onto the bed, suddenly too weak. I can hear the cracking of my heart, splintering like the mast of a floundering sailboat. He’s been nothing but good to me. My head throbs and my finger hovers over the call button. But there’s nothing I can say to make this easier. A clean cut hurts less. That’s what Mama always says.

I’m about to turn off Zach’s phone when a message pops up from Cliff. “Tonight, me and you, heart to heart.”

Urgh. Doesn’t he ever give up?

“Sorry, I’m with Ben and Dex.” I text back.

I power off Zach’s phone. Tomorrow, I’ll ask Ben or Dex to drop it in the mail for him. Tears stream down my face. I don’t want to say goodbye like this. I can’t bear him thinking I didn’t love him.

I turn on my phone and text his phone.

“
Mahal kita,
farewell.” I love you, goodbye.

He’ll get it when I’m safely above the clouds. I hope it’s enough for him to understand that I didn’t mean to hurt him.

There’s a rap-tap-tap at my door. I hurriedly wipe away my tears, put on a pair of oversized sunglasses and a wide-brimmed straw hat, and open the door.

The twins stand there grinning. Dex sports binoculars and Ben has a huge camera, or is it the other way around? All they need are aloha shirts to complete their tourist impersonations.

I march with them to a jeep parked at the front of the mansion and try to be amused by their antics. I need them to keep Cliff at bay and my mind off Zach.

Along the way, they joke and rap with the radio on, trying to make me smile. The drive is mostly flat until we get near the Dandenong Range. I can’t get over how blue the sky is, so much like Zach’s eyes. If things were different I’d be seeing this beauty with him, walking hand in hand.

We drive further into the park. The trees get taller and denser, and flocks of colorful birds circle overhead. Ben points to my hat. “Good idea wearing that. Wanna feed them?”

“Uh … sure, but aren’t they wild?”

“You have bird seed, they’ll come right up to you,” Dex says.

After parking, we enter the feeding area and buy birdseed. A cloud of birds swoop directly at us.

“Hold out your hand,” Ben says and puts seeds in both my hands.

Colorful parrots and cockatoos land on my forearms and amazingly take turns. They roll their intelligent eyes at me, their crests raising and lowering. “What are all of these called? I know the cockatoos, but what about the red and blue ones?”

Dex points to the red one with blue stripes feeding on my left arm. “That’s a crimson rosella.”

“Ah … I want to take it home.”

“And the green one with the orange breast is the king parrot. The pink one with grey wings sitting on Dex is a galah, and oh, look, there’s a kookaburra sitting on the fence post,” Ben explains while snapping pictures.

“Are they the ones who woke me this morning?”

Ben hoots and makes wild monkey sounds while Dex makes motor sounds. I crack up when the kookaburras raise their beaks to the sky and laugh hilariously. Meanwhile, the sulfur crested cockatoos flock at my feet, milling around the dropped seeds.

“Should I feed the kookaburras?” I ask.

“Nope, not unless you have meat,” Dex replies. “They’re carnivorous.”

A large white bird lands on the top of my head. I jump and scream, which only causes his wings to flap harder. “I think he’s stuck!”

My hat lifts and drops a few feet. The birds are going crazy and jumping on my arms, hair and shoulders. What the? Dex is throwing seeds into my hair and Ben is filming me. Those brats! The kookaburras laugh, and all I can do is roll with it. I brush some seeds onto Ben and he runs toward the car.

A particularly persistent cockatoo refuses to leave my arm, no matter how hard I shake him. He clings to me like Velcro, his saucer shaped eyes rolling around as if he can’t understand that I have no more seeds. Finally, Dex waves my hat at him and he takes flight.

“That’s Zach.” They laugh, but my stomach turns sour.

I climb into the jeep and slam the door. Tears threaten, and I hate myself for not being able to keep my eyes dry.

The boys scramble into the jeep, and we drive off. They turn the radio to a comedy channel, one specializing in adolescent flatulence jokes. My gaze swims over the rolling countryside, my mind a million miles away.

Zach, I’ll never ever get over you.

The traffic is dense once we’re close to the city. It’s getting late and my eyes feel heavy. I wonder what Zach is doing, how he’s feeling.

Despite my resolve, I turn on his cell phone. My message of love flashes on the screen. I flip to his photo album and stare at him in happier times: pictures of Zach and his sailboat, competing in triathlons, riding his bicycle, windsurfing, rock climbing and horseback riding. There’s Zach with his motorcycle and the collection of women. Beautiful women. And there’s me—the last one taken on the dark porch. We’re smiling and our eyes are sparkling with new found love. I want to delete it, but I have no right to.

“
Ate
, why are you crying?” Ben calls from the passenger seat.

“I wish you two would stop making fun of Zach. Have you ever thought how you’d feel if you lost a leg?”

Dex swings to the left lane and looks back at me. “I have a friend who lost his leg at the Boston Marathon. Sorry.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Ben says. “You’re really into him?”

“Cliff says—” Dex begins.

I hold out my hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Cliff is a bully and a loser.”

“Does he really think you’ll marry him?” Dex asks. “Darn, missed that parking space.”

“I’ll never marry,” I say resolutely. “You two will have to pass on the family genes.”

“You don’t mean that, do you?” Ben says. “Would you marry Zach?”

Goodness. These two are like babies.

I punch the seatback. “How the hell do you think I can marry him if my father killed his mother?”

“Maybe Tatay didn’t kill her,” Dex says.

“Yep, we have listening devices.” Ben flashes me a cheesy grin. “Tatay got us spy toys for Christmas and forgot about them.”

“Wait, wait!” I sit up straighter. “What did you guys find out?”

“Tatay’s covering for someone.”

“Who?” My heart springs into action. “And why?”

Ben shrugs. “It’s all hush-hush, but we heard him say he couldn’t hurt your mother more than he already has.”

“My mother? What does she have to do with this?”

“We don’t know, but we think he’s protecting her,” Dex says.

“That’s ridiculous, she can’t possibly be the murderer.” I slump back into the seat. “She was home. Me and Papa were at the winery. I got blood on my dress, but I don’t remember anything else.”

“You were there?” Both sets of eyes turn on me.

“Watch out!” I point to the windshield. A truck horn blares and Dex slams on the brakes. He makes a sharp left into an underground parking garage.

Ben keeps looking back at me as if I had grown three heads while Dex swings into the first available spot. Avoiding their questioning looks, I jump from the jeep and jog up the stairs to street level. I power walk several blocks, aimlessly, weaving and dodging between pedestrians. Ben and Dex yell from behind. I narrowly miss getting hit by an electric streetcar before stopping.

A gargantuan yellow brick building with multiple archways and a green dome stands in front of me. The old world details and architecture are magnificent enough to take my breath away. I stare transfixed at the row of analog clocks at the entrance above a wide staircase.

“Flinders Street Station, world famous for meeting under the clocks,” Ben says and snaps a picture of me. “You want to talk about what you saw?”

“No.” I keep walking, wishing I was in the mood to enjoy the landmarks. We meander down the street to City Square, flanked by the Melbourne Town Hall and St. Paul’s Cathedral. A black water wall, the one Cliff talked about, stands in the square. Of course I can’t resist putting my hand up to it.

Ben stands next to me and splashes me. “So, if you got blood on your dress, did you see the murder?”

“I didn’t see anything.” I shut my eyes and let the cool water run over my hands, as if washing away the blood.

“You must have seen something,” Dex says. “Wouldn’t it be cool if you solved the mystery?”

“Uh … guys, let’s not talk about it, okay? Papa looked me in the eye and said he killed her. The right thing for him to do is to turn himself in.”

“You’re joking,” Dex says. “They’ll frame him.”

“Yeah, you’re family. You wouldn’t rat him out, would you?” Ben flashes me a sidelong glance.

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’m hungry, where are we eating?”

***

We get back in the jeep, and Dex drives block after city block before parking next to a dumpster. He leads us to a row of brick buildings decorated with graffiti. I’m immediately uncomfortable, thinking about earthquakes. We don’t build with brick in California, and all I can picture is rubble. We descend a set of dark, smelly steps into a hole in the basement, a real dive. A grungy version of the Hungry Caterpillar children’s book character with a cigarette sticking out his mouth is painted on the sign over the entrance.

Dex opens the door to a dank underground club. There’s a bar to the right, pool tables, and a platform for a band. A DJ’s station is near the back. Trance-like music pulses from the large overhead speakers.

Ben points to a sign on the wall. “We can get those kangaroo burgers Cliff talks about.”

“I’m not sure I want one.” I follow Dex toward the bar.

Speak of the devil. Cliff is sitting on a barstool.

“Can we go somewhere else?” I pivot toward the entrance, tugging Dex’s shirt.

“Too late, he saw us,” Dex says.

“So? It’s my last night here, and I don’t want to deal with your father’s foreman.”

An arm clamps my shoulder, and Cliff’s slimy smile slides across his face. “
Mi amor.
”

I’m not even going to be polite. I twist out of his grasp and position myself between my two bodyguard brothers. “Aren’t you going to tell him to leave your
Ate
alone?” I nudge Dex’s foot with my toe.

“But it’s only Cliff,” Dex says. “He’s harmless.”

“All talk and no action,” Ben agrees.

My face warms, and I hope they don’t see it reddening. They hadn’t seen him in the shower. He was much more than talk, although thankfully he’s been respectful ever since. We take seats at the bar, and Cliff wisely sits on the other side of Dex.

Cans of spray paint are left on a ledge leading to the stairway. A customer is tagging graffiti on walls filled with vivid sceneries of beaches, colorful birds, and trees that flow seamlessly, one to the next.

The boys order kangaroo burgers, potato wedges, and pitchers of beer. I ask for a tomato and broccoli salad with green goddess dressing, but Cliff tells the waitress to bring me a strip of kangaroo on a skewer.

“You have to try it. It’s healthier than beef,” he says as he takes a picture of me with his phone.

I feel like a fugitive already. If the authorities place Vera Custodio here, close to the Ping brothers, wouldn’t they suspect my father to be related to them?

The food arrives, and Cliff lifts his phone again, but I block it. “Enough pictures.” I turn to Ben. “Make sure you don’t post any photos of me. They might trace me back to you guys.”

He darts a secret agent furtive look around and whispers, “Got it. The memory card will self-destruct in fifty seconds.”

I’m chewing on the rangy kangaroo when Zach walks down the stairs from street level. He’s wearing a tight white cotton shirt with the two top buttons loose, and his jeans completely cover his artificial leg. He fist bumps the bouncers and swaggers toward the pool table, walking naturally in a pair of fluorescent sneakers with only a slight roll on the left.

I duck behind Dex, but needlessly. Zach never glances my way as he greets his mates and grabs a pool stick. They start another game, and Zach leans over to take the break shot, pointing his tight, sexy bum my direction.

“Stop drooling,” Ben elbows me.

“How did he know I’d be here?” I chase the dry meat with a draft of beer. The aftertaste is strong and malty.