29
Don’t Give Up on Me. Please.
LIVIA CRINGED AT HER father’s words and looked over at Blake. He’d stopped his practice handshake mid-swing. Livia watched hope die in his eyes. Blake had wanted to meet John man to man. But now…
Blake tried to smile at Livia, but only one side of his lip went up. Livia interrupted her father before he could say anything else.
“Dad, I have my friend, Blake Hartt, here to meet you.” Livia tried to convey warning and begging with her eyes.
John stepped in and took off his hat. Livia felt every emotion her heart could hold when Blake stepped forward to greet her father, despite the words he’d just heard. John assessed Blake while rubbing a thumb over his mouth. Livia reached out to touch Blake’s lower back. She outlined a heart with her finger. I’m proud of you, no matter what happens here.
Livia knew where to start—she’d learned from Blake’s wonderful manners.
“John McHugh, this is Blake Hartt. Blake, this is my father.” Livia left her hand on Blake’s back, hoping to convey her attachment and acceptance.
Blake nodded and held out his hand, which John grasped firmly. “Sir, it’s a pleasure to see you again. I owe you such gratitude for your many acts of kindness.”
John stepped back from their handshake. “It’s no problem,” he grumbled.
Livia looked from one man to the other. Her father looked embarrassed, and Blake’s shoulders showed a certain slump Livia recognized from before they’d first spoken—when they had just her smiles between them.
“Wait—hold the phone. You two know each other?” Livia felt a little lightheaded.
John shuffled his feet and observed the movement as if it was endlessly fascinating.
Blake turned to Livia. “We were never formally introduced. When your father sees me at the train station from his patrol car, he often stops by later in the day with a bagged meal that he refuses to let me turn down. You, Livia, inherit your generous nature from him.”
Blake did his best to seem cool and collected, but irony coated the room, thick and palpable. Blake ever buying an oven seemed a reckless dream. His homelessness came into sharp relief.
Livia held tight to her heart. This doesn’t change anything. Blake’s the right person for me.
John twisted his hat in his hands and stayed silent.
“Dad, thank you. I had no idea. I wish I’d been smart enough to do that very thing for Blake sooner.” She grabbed Blake’s hand with both of her own and put a kiss on the back of it, forcing a jaunty wink and smile.
He looked at her, but he was only a shadow now. Livia gave him a warning look. He shook his head sadly and in total defeat. Standing in the house of a man who’d brought him food, with his daughter holding his hand, seemed to break some sort of honor code for Blake.
Livia felt her heart beating in her ears. “Don’t give up on me. Please,” she said softly.
He nodded and took a deep breath.
Livia looked at her father’s uniform as if for the first time. His badge had just a number, nothing that said John McHugh and no way for Blake to know he’d been about to meet a benefactor who’d seen him at his worst and taken pity on him.
Livia watched Blake crumble like ash from a burnt cigarette. One stiff wind and he would disintegrate.
John seemed to note Livia’s distress. “Hey, did you guys eat? Should I order a pizza?”
More food offered to Blake. Livia knew what he was thinking—that he hadn’t earned it. Crap.
“No. Thank you, sir. Livia was kind enough to make me a meal. I appreciate the offer. I would imagine you might wish to spend some private moments with your daughter right now.” Blake made a motion for the door.
Livia squeezed his hand. I’m not letting you go.
Blake turned to John. “I know you already know this, Mr. McHugh, but your daughter is the most exceptional person I’ve ever had the honor of meeting. She’s a testament to your dedication as a parent.” He squeezed Livia’s hand back.
“Livia and her sister always do me proud. I only want the best for them.” John said the words with kindness, but Livia heard them through Blake’s ears. Disappointment and suspicion were sandwiched around fatherly pride.
“Again, sir. It was a pleasure meeting you.” Blake leaned in and shook John’s hand once more.
Livia looked at her dad. “I’ll be right back. I’ll whip you up something for dinner. Don’t order in.”
She watched as Blake slid the mask out from beneath her sunglasses and pocketed it discreetly. He held the door open for her and followed close behind. She smiled a little when she felt him sniff her hair. Under the little awning over the front door, Blake remained in the shade.
He seemed to be drinking in her face, looking at her instead of into her.
“Stop. Stop that. This isn’t goodbye.”
Blake pulled her left hand to his mouth and kissed her ring finger. “I’m still glad it’s empty. He never deserved you. Of that, I’m very sure.”
Livia saw moisture in his eyes. “You’re saying goodbye. No. Here’s what I’m sure of. I’ll walk away from this house right now, wearing only what I have on my back and be happy. With you I can taste forever—it’s right here.” Livia pointed at her lips and then kissed his.
Blake allowed the kiss, but mumbled a question as well, “How many shotguns does he have?”
“Not enough to get me away from you.” Livia traced his jaw.
Blake took her hand and kissed her palm, then her forehead, “Livia, go in there and let him talk to you. He’s a father. I’d want to talk to my daughter at a moment like this. Let’s give him that respect.”
“I will not go in there. Where will you go?” Livia felt a gentle tug on her heart. She was torn. She wanted to comfort her dad and get him to understand who Blake was, but in as little time as possible so she could get back to Blake.
“My inamorata, you know where I’ll be: where I’ll always be. Waiting. For you.” Blake began putting the mask on.
Livia looked around wildly, feeling close to irrational. “I don’t want you to go.” These words were inadequate to express her need.
Blake smoothed her hair away from her face. “I’ve often wished I had a father. Let me help him be that. He needs you to himself for a just a little while.”
Livia’s love for her dad gave her the strength to step back and nod. She stood on the porch and watched Blake’s retreating form. Every once in a while he turned to wave, and just before he reached the end of her street, he stopped to look at her. Neither of them waved this time.
She watched with a crashing surge of pride as he reached up and pulled the mask off—he was in full sunlight. The orangey red light of the setting sun outlined him. Poughkeepsie’s dusk set the mood. No matter how much Blake healed, Livia had a feeling nighttime would always be their favorite. He disappeared from view, but she knew he was strong. So much stronger so much sooner than she could ever have hoped.
Livia walked back in and leaned against the front door as she closed it behind her. She didn’t throw the bolt because her dad was home. No one was stupid enough to rob the McHughs with a patrol car parked out front. She sighed as she felt his love settle even further into her soul.
Her father stood in the kitchen doorway with his eyebrows raised. Livia smiled. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the cardboard piano on the living room coffee table. Blake must have set it down to shake John’s hand.
He left it! Livia hoped this was a good sign, not something that would cause a setback when he discovered it missing. I’ll get this discussion over with, then drive the piano over to him and pick him up.
“Livia, I don’t even know where to start with this nightmare.”
Livia turned back to find her father winding up. His face flushed and the veins in his neck were more visible than they should have been.
“Blake’s not a nightmare. I love him, Dad. I love him. Let’s keep that straight.” Livia felt her hackles rise.
“I’m not talking about Blake, though I have concerns about him. I want to know what happened to your sister and her car. I want to know why Beckett Taylor’s hanging around my two daughters. Where the hell is your sister, anyway?” John had started pacing, as he tended to do when he was angry.
Livia felt some selfish relief. She loved the way her dad had said “Blake,” just as he’d name any of her friends. “Kyle rammed Chris’s truck when she found him spying on Blake and me. She’s fine. The car’s at a body shop. Beckett is Blake’s foster brother. They’re friendly. So yes, I know Beckett. I would almost call him a friend, but he does bad, bad things for a living.” Livia had never been a good liar, and she wasn’t going to try it now.
John ran his hand through his hair. Then he turned and walked upstairs. Livia followed him. He entered her room and sat down on the bed.
“I have to tell you, Chris came to see me. That’s why I know so much right now.” His voice seemed too loud in the small room. “Chris told me this. Not my own daughter. You’re in love? So soon? Didn’t Chris just ask me for your hand? Didn’t you say yes?” He ran his hand through his hair again.
“He had no right to tell you before I had a chance. Was I not here? With Blake? Five minutes ago? I had every intention of telling you, Dad. It was not Chris’s place, and I resent him for that.” Livia found a paper rose and fiddled with it.
She and her dad rarely argued. Kyle went go toe-to-toe with him on a regular basis, but Livia was always his girl, the one that understood him best. Being out of sync made Livia feel like her shirt was on backward. She came to sit next to him.
“No matter how I got the information, I got it,” he countered. “Not saying Chris’s intentions were pure. But going from what you just told me and what I learned today, I can’t help but feel a little bit hysterical.” He clenched his fists. “I spoke with Blake’s old social worker. She does clerical work at the station, and she remembered his name, thank God.” John put his severe voice on. “Now, I’m not proud of how I got this, but you need to know he’s had a violent past.”
Livia steadied herself internally. “I know about his past—what happened with his mom.”
Having her father know Blake’s deepest, darkest secret so soon felt improper. Livia wanted to cover him, hide the truth for now.
“Okay, so it’s fine with you that he punched his own mother? Let’s just say that’s water under the bridge. As nice as he seems, he had an excuse, or he was young. Let’s just pick a reason and run with it. But how about this? Blake, Beckett, and his other foster brother were unofficially considered suspects in the case of a missing, and presumed dead, male. He was the last foster father all three of them had together. The man left one Saturday and never returned. Murder, Livia.” John stood and began pacing again.
“Were any of them found guilty?” Livia could barely take this all in. Blake would play no part in a murder. He’d even been reluctant to have the cooler stealers punished.
“No. No, they weren’t, but that question scares the hell out of me, Livia. There wasn’t enough evidence to even question them. But I don’t need a guilty verdict to worry about my daughter. Will you make murder fit into your lifestyle now? Is that where this is heading?”
Livia knew she needed to be sensible. How could she possibly make him understand? She needed to buy some breathing room. She halted her father’s words with her hand. “Dad, Blake and I have only known each other a few weeks. It’s a brand new thing. It might not even last.”
He seemed to take a deep breath. Livia thought he looked a little less red in the face.
“What about his foster brother, Beckett Taylor?” he asked. “Do you know what we call him down at the station, Livia? The Bloody Bastard. I don’t even want to get into how much that’s not okay. Even if in some dream world Beckett is decent, his enemies won’t be. And Blake? Your brand-new boyfriend?” John clenched and unclenched his hands. “He has a violent past I know about, and maybe plenty more I don’t know about. Has he ever hurt you?” John stopped pacing like a lion and waited for her answer.
No! Never. Livia felt the words start to form, but then her first time in the clearing with Blake surfaced in her memory. She thought of being thrown to the ground. She thought of Blake running at her. She didn’t want to lie—surely her father could understand Blake was a work in progress. Aren’t we all?
“Did he?” her father questioned again, his eyes growing bigger and bigger.
Livia took a breath and spoke calmly. “He scared me once, but he’s dealing with some stuff, Dad. He didn’t do it on purpose. I don’t ever think he’d do it again. At least he wouldn’t want to. I just need to learn when to give him some space.” Livia knew her words were not telling the story the way her father needed to hear it.
“Liv, do you know how many times I’ve heard those exact words from the mouth of a woman with her face beaten in? The men are always gonna change. The woman needs to learn. Christ Almighty, I never thought I’d hear those words from my daughter. Are you on drugs?” John held his palms out to her as if she could lay the answers he needed in them.
“No. Jeez, Dad.” Livia sighed. Can I even begin to make him see things my way?
“He’s homeless, Livia,” her father continued, moving on to a new concern. “Do you want to know why people are homeless? I’ll tell you, because I’ve seen a ton of them. They’re homeless because they’re crazy. Normal people don’t sit in one spot all day. I’ve seen that kid sitting in one spot all damn day, playing with a piece of cardboard. Now you’re dating him? You want to know what I think?” He didn’t wait for her assent. “It’s the university. I think it’s great for you to go—first McHugh to go to grad school and all that. But all those psychology classes are putting ideas in your head. I think you want to try to fix a crazy man, and one was conveniently located at the train station. Is he like a class paper for you?”
Livia rubbed her hand over her face. She pictured Blake’s distant form removing his mask. “I’m a person who can help him, Dad. I even met with a professor about his problem, and I got great advice. It’s working. He’s doing great. Right now, he’s doing great.” Livia looked in her lap and realized she’d untwisted the rose. It was just a wrinkled napkin. She busied her hands trying to put it back together, nice and tight.
“Livia, I can’t tell you what to do anymore. You’re a grown woman. But I can give you my opinion, and I think Blake’s a mistake. You’re a beautiful, smart young lady with a head on your shoulders—up until this point anyway. Getting romantically involved five minutes after breaking up with your fiancé and hopping into the arms of the train station hobo while making friends with murderers is not who I raised you to be. I expect more from you, Livia. I have to say, I’m disappointed. And I’m worried sick.”
John sat again and pulled her into an uncharacteristic hug. “I just love you too damn much. You’re my perfect girl. I want perfect things for you. That’s all I want. Happy and safe. I want you happy and safe.”
Livia could hear a sob in his voice. She could only imagine what he must have read and heard at the station. Beckett probably had his own roomful of paperwork documenting his evils. Considering that, her dad was holding up pretty well.
“I love you, Dad.” His police uniform was scratchy against her cheek.
Livia caught movement outside on the front lawn in her peripheral vision but didn’t want to break from her dad’s rare hug to look. She turned her attention to her father’s face.
“I have to tell you, Blake’s not a murderer or a woman beater. When he hurt me, it was an absolute accident. He actually saved Kyle and me when Chris seemed to be getting out of hand. I can’t apologize for Beckett, but he’s not the man I love.”
Here it goes, the hell with breathing room. Dad needs to know how it is.
“It happened so quick. I just knew. In my heart, Blake and I are already bound. Remember the story about when you met Mom? How you knew she was special right away?” Livia waited to see if he was following.
He nodded.
“You took a risk marrying her. You took a risk having kids with her. You knew she was flighty, to say the least, but you did it anyway. Do you regret it, Dad?” Livia took his hand.
“Never,” he said immediately. “I got my girls. You two are why I get up in the morning.”
His eyes were angry, but Livia could see the glow of pride as well. She’d known that would be his answer, and it made her smile.
“That’s because it was the right thing to do. You followed your heart, even though it might get broken. You let it lead you to the path. I’ve found my path, Dad. Blake’s someone I’ll never regret. I can’t promise how it’ll turn out, but my heart can’t make any other choice.”
Livia squeezed his hand; he had to understand. “You’re the first man I ever loved. He’s the second. I couldn’t have one without the other. Please, Dad, stand with me on this.”
He squeezed her hand back and made a sour face. “I hate when you use logic against me. It takes my knees out. I’ll give him a shot, but if he ever hurts you…”
Livia put the paper rose down on her dresser. She couldn’t get it back together correctly and wished she hadn’t messed with it in the first place. It looked deflated and sad.
John sighed when Livia turned to his arms again. She decided right then to hug him more often. Every day he needed to know how much she appreciated him. The ringing of the house phone broke their embrace.
They then played the McHugh family’s most hated game. They had three cordless phones and after talking, Kyle would toss the handsets aside and return to whatever she was doing at the moment. They could be buried in the couch, on top of the fridge, or nestled in the pantry when she was done.
Livia and John ran from room to room, looking. Livia swore she heard one in the living room. She froze when she saw the coffee table empty. She dropped to the floor and checked all around. Blake’s cardboard piano was gone. She ran for the door and tried the knob. It was locked. No one in her family ever locked the knob, just the bolt.
But Blake would, just to be courteous and keep Livia safe. Blake would have picked up the piano, locked the door, and closed it behind him. Blake had been in the house to get his piano. Livia knew it for sure. She ran through her conversation with her father.
“Dad, Blake and I have only known each other two weeks. It’s a brand new thing. It might not even last.”
“Has he ever hurt you?”
“He scared me once…”
Livia grabbed her car keys. She had to get to him.
She ran out, only to remember father’s cruiser blocking her in. She turned just as John found one of the phones. The answering machine clicked on and became a loudspeaker, booming voices throughout the house.
“Sorry. The machine got it first. Hi.” He was gruff on the phone, as usual.
“This is Nurse Susan Weiss at Poughkeepsie General Hospital. May I speak with Officer McHugh?” She sounded stiff and professional.
“This is John McHugh.” He spoke slowly.
Livia tried to get back out the door before hearing this woman possibly ask her father on a date, but the next words stopped her cold.
“Your daughter, Kyle, was just brought into the ER. I’ll need you to come as soon as possible.”
“What happened?” John asked, his voice robotic.
“Sir, I just need you to drive safely and quickly to the hospital. Do you need directions?”
“Tell me what the hell has happened to my daughter! Is she okay?” John appeared in front of Livia, squeezing the phone tightly.
“Officer McHugh, is Kyle allergic to any medications?”
John looked at the phone like it had sprouted wings.
Livia took the phone from his hand. She led him by the arm and grabbed the cruiser’s keys off the hook. They rushed outside together.
“This is Livia. I’m Kyle’s sister. She’s not allergic to any medications. You need to tell me right now what we’ll be facing when we get there.” Livia landed in the passenger seat as John threw the cruiser into reverse.
The phone could almost reach the end of the block before it went out of range. Livia had walked out of the house thinking she was on her cell phone instead of the house phone on more than one occasion.
“Livia, Kyle is unconscious. One of the police officers at the scene recognized her. I can’t tell you why, just yet…B..fr…” Susan’s voice faded.
John looked at Livia’s pale face and flipped on his lights and sirens. He hit the accelerator and turned the cruiser toward the hospital.