Second Chances (20 page)

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“I’m sorry Mr. Smith, we did everything we could but your mother’s internal injuries were too extensive. We couldn’t save her.” Dr. Weinstein looked sympathetically at Tim, sitting bent in a chair, his head firmly in his hands as if to keep it from falling off. He scanned the empty waiting room. “Is there anything we can do for you, someone we can call maybe?”

Tim’s shoulders shook silently in response and the doctor sighed. It never got any easier dealing with the loved ones left behind. “There, there son, everything will be alright,” he tried to comfort. “I’ll ask one of the nurses to bring your mother’s things, just let her know if there’s anything else you need Ok? Ok then,” he said. “You take care.”

Hours later when he finally left the hospital Tim was surprised to find the day had gone leaving a thick blanket of darkness in its place. He blinked, adjusting his eyes from the harsh hospital fluorescents to the dim of night.
What now?
Holding tight to the plastic bag with Pashmina’s clothes and other personal belongings he decided to walk back to his apartment.

The evening air felt good on his face clearing his head enough to create a mental check list of all the things he had to do like call George. Would Pashmina mind? George wasn’t exactly one of her favorite people but she had cared for him once and had his child. He had a right to know. Checking his watch he calculated the nine-hour time difference. It was early in Greece, four o’clock in the morning but this couldn’t wait. He took out his phone and called.

The trilling phone stirred George from sleep, his groggy mind too slow to recognize the sound at first. What the hell? It rang again sounding sharp and shrill, unaccustomed to announcing callers. No one ever called him, unless it was an emergency. George’s heart stopped.
Tim.
With shaking hands he answered, “Hello?”

“George? It’s me, Tim. I’m sorry to wake you.”

Relieved, he assured him, “No, no it’s ok. What’s going on, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I guess. I just wanted to tell you, to let you know.” He took a steadying breath. “Pashmina’s dead,” he said.

Heavy silence hung between them until his words finally sank in. “How?” George asked.

“A car accident, this morning.” He hesitated, unsure what to say. “We were meeting for lunch and she was hit crossing the road.”

“You were there?” George wanted to yell, to hit something. How had this happened? Pashmina was gone. He’d never see her again. And Tim, he’d lost his mother, the woman he’d been searching for all his life, the woman he’d just found. He gripped the phone tightly, thankful for the connection however small. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he promised. “I’ll contact the airlines right away and let you know when I get to Boston. Don’t worry I’ll take care of everything.”

Tim’s eyes closed in relief. “Thank you. You’ve no idea how much that means to me.” After twenty-nine years it felt good to let someone else take charge. “But I need to do this. I want to do this, for my mother. It’s all I can do for her now.”

George nodded, understanding. “I’ll reach out to her family here. They never knew about us--either of us--but it’s time they did. They’ll want to meet their grandson and nephew.”

And he wanted to meet them. He’d planned to talk to Pashmina about that, about going to Greece together. And then she died. “Thank you,” he choked.

Tim’s sobs tore at his heart as George forced himself to be strong. “Remember Tim, you’re not alone. I’m here for you.”

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Compared to the chaos of the church, the burial service was a haven of peace and quiet. “Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy and Immortal, have mercy on us,” the Trisagion prayer pierced his thoughts reminding him where he was and why. “Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy and Immortal, have mercy on us,” the priest chanted a third time commencing the traditional burial prayer as a light breeze lifted the dark curls from his neck leaving goose bumps on his skin. Shivering slightly he dug his chilled hands deep into his pockets his fingers curling protectively around the crisp folded edges of origami hiding inside. Pashmina’s letter.

Mixed in with all the condolence cards, bills, and junk that served as his mail, Pashmina’s loving declaration inscribed on her personal stationary was all he had left of his mother. He’d nearly missed it, mindlessly sorting through the stack, flipping important stuff onto the table, the rest in the trash, until he came across one addressed to him in bold and elegant cursive. He knew who it was from even before the soft scents of white orchid and vanilla wafted over him.

But he didn’t read it right away; partly because not knowing made him feel like she was still alive and partly because her voice from the dead kind of creeped him out. She must have mailed it the morning she died. But eventually, curiosity got the better of him and he retreated to the privacy of his room to hear what she had to say.

My Darling Son
she began, three words that made it hard to read the rest through brimming tears, but he pushed himself to finish it. It was a gift he realized, something that gave him more pleasure and less pain each time he read it. And he read it over and over until he worried it might disintegrate then he tucked it into his pocket for safekeeping. He didn’t have to read it anymore, he’d memorized every word.

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Hi.” Wearing a suit and holding a bouquet of flowers Tim felt more like an awkward prom date than a penitent suitor. Over the past few days he’d managed to make amends with almost everyone he really cared about except Amelia, intentionally saving her for last. It was a risk but she was the most important one and truthfully, the one that scared him the most. Losing her was unimaginable.

Judging from her stony expression however, she didn’t have a problem with it. “Hi.”

“How are you?” he asked really wanting to know. The apartment door began to close and he put a hand out to stop it. “Please Amelia, Baby please just hear me out and I promise I’ll never bother you again.”

Like him, she still wore her funeral clothes from earlier minus her conspicuously missing high heeled shoes. He smiled slightly. She hated ‘dress up’ shoes. Weapons disguised as fashion statements she’d called them once rubbing her aching feet after a long day in black patent stilettos. If a woman really wanted to torture a man all she’d have to do is make him walk in a pair of her shoes for an hour.

But she was the one looking tormented now. Her usual peaches and cream complexion was ashen, dark circles formed half-moons beneath red-rimmed eyes; she looked sad and weary and wounded. Guilt pricked at his skin making it burn, and he ran a nervous hand through his hair. This was his fault.

As if she heard him, the door opened and Amelia grudgingly waved him inside. Wasn’t this what she wanted? An explanation, an apology, both. They were long overdue and he was here, finally. There was no way in hell was she letting him go now, not until he manned up and told her everything.

Stepping back she made sure he could pass without touching her, keeping her expression carefully blank to mask the emotional coup threatening inside her. Despite all of the crap he’d pulled and how much she hated him right now, the guy could still turn her inside out with just a glance from those gorgeous chocolate eyes of his. His mother’s eyes.

Pashmina. Amelia felt the same familiar ache in her chest as when her dad died. Gone too soon, it wasn’t fair. “Life’s not always fair Amelia,” her mother had said, “some days are better, some are worse but they’re never the same.” Tucking a strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear she’d smiled bravely, “It’s you and me now sweetheart but Daddy will always be with us and we’ll always be lucky we had him in our lives even if it was only for a little while.” Pashmina too, she was a wonderful woman and a wonderful friend for the short time they’d known each other. For the second time in her life Amelia counted her blessings.

Feeling invisible Tim touched her arm, squeezing lightly to get her attention. “I know I have a lot of explaining to do.” He hesitated, “I’m just not sure where to start.”

Unmoved, Amelia plopped herself on the couch. “Well don’t look at me. I’ve got my own problems to worry about.” She’d be damned if she was going to make this easy for him.

“I know you do,” he agreed quickly, “I just hope I’m one of those problems.” Amelia’s eyebrows spiked in surprise and he realized his mistake. That didn’t come out right. “What I mean is I hope you still care enough about me for me to be a problem to you.” He placed an emphatic hand over his heart, “I know I’ve been an idiot, a jerk, an asshole.” Amelia motioned for him to keep going and he laughed nervously.

“Seriously, there’s no excuse for the way I’ve treated you. I screwed it all up and then some but I swear if you’ll just give me a chance I’ll explain everything.” He scanned her face for signs of a winter thaw, a softening in her eyes, tight lips relaxing into full bloom, something, anything encouraging.

Like a statue she gazed at him passively attentive and Tim began to sweat. He moved to the couch not trusting his legs to hold him much longer and took her hands in his. “Baby I love you. I think I’ve loved you since our first date when you let me off the hook.” He shook his head in disbelief, “I was a jerk even then but you stayed with me anyway.”

Amelia nodded breaking her silence, “Rose would say it wasn’t one of my finer moments.”

One more fence he had to mend if he had the chance. “Rose is a good friend. She really looks out for you.”

“I’ve got Rose and you’ve got Ben.”

“I know,” he agreed. “No matter how shitty I was to him Ben’s always been there for me. I didn’t deserve a friend like him or a girlfriend like you either but that was before. Meeting my parents helped me find the real me, not some make believe version I convinced myself I was. The old me was too scared to get close to anybody but I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you now. Please Amelia, don’t let me go.”

Despite her resolve to stay strong, Amelia could feel herself slipping. She’d never seen him like this before, open, honest, vulnerable. More than anything she wanted to go to him but it wasn’t that easy. “You lied to me,” she said. “And you used me. And you didn’t trust me. Everyone knew it, Pashmina, Monte, Ben, Rose, even my manicurist tried to tell me but I didn’t believe them. I believed you. And now you’re asking me to believe you again.”

When had her life become such a sappy soap opera? Disgusted, she stood tall meeting his chest and demanded, “Why should I trust you after everything you’ve done?”

Excellent question. “I’m sorry, I can’t answer that.” He pleaded with her to understand, “I can’t say why you should take a chance on me, I only know that my heart is breaking right now ‘cause I’m so scared you won’t.” Taking her shoulders he promised, “I swear to God if you stay with me, I will never do anything ever again to make you regret your decision.”

Somewhere nearby a clock ticked loudly, tick tock tick tock, marking time as he waited anxiously for her answer. Hearing it too, Amelia had had enough. No more wasted time. Wrapping her arms around him she pulled him close, breathing the familiar scent of aftershave and Tim, like clean air in the wake of a storm.

She hugged him tightly. “Never is an awfully long time,” she whispered.

“I’m counting on it,” he replied.

*   *   *

PROLOGUE

My Darling Son,

If you know nothing else about me you need to know this: I love you. I always have and I always will.

My mother, your grandmother said these words to me when I left home for America so many years ago. Her only daughter was leaving and it broke her heart. A mother’s not supposed to have a favorite child but I knew I was hers. It was her secret. I wished so much that I could tell her mine, that I could tell her I was pregnant, that I was scared, but I was ashamed; not of you, of me. I had become a person neither of us could be proud of.

I think she knew though, mothers have an odd way of knowing these things. She did the best she could to help sending St. Barbara along to protect me. St. Barbara was the only reason I was able to release you to what I hoped would be a better life. I placed the chain with her medallion around your sweet neck and promised that she’d protect you always. And she did keep you physically safe. I was the one who failed you. Miserably.

My father once said there’s a sinner and a saint in all of us but I never really understood what he meant until now. You see, sometimes we do bad things in the name of doing good. I’ve made bad choices, I’ve been selfish, and I’ve hurt many people. Unfortunately, many of my wrongs can’t be made right. And I have to live with that.

But there are others I can correct beginning with my worst offense, giving you up. I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, being a mother who adores you, supports you, and will tackle anyone who tries to harm you. I know I’m coming very late to the party but I hope with all my heart that you’ll welcome me into your life as your mother, your friend, and your biggest fan.

Darling, it’s a very rich man who’s blessed with good friends and a woman who loves him like Amelia loves you. If I can give you a bit of motherly advice, hold onto them tightly. They are your family, they have your back, and you must have theirs. They are a precious commodity to be treasured. Don’t be afraid to let them know it.