She patted my arm. Smiled. “I had a stroke, love, I’m not blind. At first, I thought he was Ray’s friend, but during dinner, the way he spoke to you, there’s an underlying tenderness in his tone. And when he called you Logan, I realized the truth.”
A watery laugh escaped me. How could I forget her uncanny sixth sense? I slid my arms around her waist and hugged her tightly. “I missed you.”
Her smile slipped, sadness realigned her beloved features. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”
Guilt and pain slipped through my protective shields. “Mom, you were ill, and recovering from painful surgery.” Pulling in a deep breath, I tread on ground still too shaky when it came to her. “How are you feeling?”
She scrunched her nose. “Not you, too, La. Your father watches over me like a hawk—he refuses to go back to work full-time.”
I cut her a determined stare. “Mom, how do you feel?”
With a wave of her hand, she dismissed my question, like she always did. “I’m fine, I promise. Go now, La, let me finish this wonderful book.” A dreamy sigh. “I love this couple…”
***
Frustrated, I left Mom to her reading and made my way to the living room. Ray was absorbed in her texting. Max pulled his gaze away from the television and glanced my way. I gave him a quick smile and turned to my father. “Dad? Can I talk to you for a minute?”
He nodded.
I walked out and stopped in the kitchen, Dad behind me. The new lines around his mouth, the weariness in his expression even though he tried to hide it, made my chest hurt. I removed the check Titus had given me from my jeans pocket and held it out. “I got commissioned to do a full painting, this should help some with the medical bills.”
My father stared at it for a long minute, then his shoulders sagged. “I should be looking out for you girls. Instead, you look out for us.”
“Dad, what happened to Mom is no one’s fault. You think I don’t know the toll it’s taken on you financially, and that Aunt Mary comes over to be caregiver to Mom when you can’t be here?”
His lips pressed together, his eyes shiny with tears.
“Oh, Dad.” I hugged him, guilt consuming me further. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t around much then. I…I needed time—”
“Don’t you ever apologize. If I weren’t so frantic over your mother, I’d have killed the ba—swine for what he did to you. But I’m so glad you came home, sweetheart. Tomorrow will be good.”
Dragging in a deep breath to ease the constriction of my chest, I eased back and asked, “About Mom, what did Dr. Garrick say? She won’t tell me anything, or even how she’s feeling.”
Sadness deepened the lines of grief on his handsome face. “She’s had several small strokes in the last few months—no, we didn’t know when it happened. Mom doesn’t, either. I thank God she’s still lucid and knows us. Her speech slurs at times when she’s upset, anxious, or excited, and walking is tough on her. It’s why Aunt Mary’s going to stay with us for a while…” He broke off, rubbing a weary hand over his face. “Even though I work at home, I can’t always be with her. Mom has to be constantly monitored, but she won’t have any of that ‘hovering,’ says she’s fine. She can be so cranky,”—he smiled a little—“and headstrong. Like someone else I know.” He cast me a fond look.
My throat tightened with unshed tears. It took everything in me not to cry and ruin this weekend for everyone. Swallowing hard, I put the check in my father’s hand.
“What about your dreams of travelling to Italy, painting, visiting art galleries and such?” he asked, staring at the piece of paper.
My heart dipped. It was a teenage dream that had been shelved. Devyn had gotten angry, he didn’t want me going off on my own even though I’d told him it would only be for three months, not a year like I’d planned. But this sacrifice, I’d willingly make. “Italy will always be there, Dad.”
But Mom may not, the unsaid words lingered heavily in the air. My chest constricted, and I hugged my father again. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart.” He kissed my brow then looked over my head and smiled, slipping the check into his pocket. “Max. Come in.”
Not wanting Max to see me so distressed, I took a moment to smooth my expression into a calm one before turning. Dad rubbed my shoulder then left us.
Max strolled closer. He stopped a few feet from me, inscrutable green eyes skimming over my face.
I forced a small smile. “You want coffee or a beer?”
“You want to go to Italy?”
So he’d only caught the last part of my conversation. I switched on the percolator. “Yes.” But now I wouldn’t—couldn’t.
“I see.” Max studied me with a brooding expression. “Were you going to tell me about this?”
Surprised, I stared at him. Truth was, I hadn’t thought about it. “I guess I would have. But that plan is on hold for now.”
