Home Again

It took the words a second to sink in. When they did, she yanked her hand back and blinked up at him. “A-Are you saying—”

“I have your uncle Francis’s heart inside me.”

She didn’t know how to respond.

“Lina?”

She heard the fear in his voice, and it confused her. She turned to him. For a second she stared into his concerned eyes and felt as if she were falling through an endless darkness. She thought crazily, I don’t know this man at all. He’s my father, and I don’t know him at all…

Then she realized he was scared because he cared about her. He was afraid she’d think he’d done something bad. He was afraid of her. Another tiny piece of the puzzle fell into place—love meant always being a little afraid.

She smiled at him, feeling something in that moment that was so big, so breathtakingly cool, she wanted to scream out for the sheer joy of it. “You have Francis’s heart,” she said softly.

He went so still, he seemed not to breathe. “Yes.”

She knew she held it all in the palm of her hand right then. Whatever she said next would define their relationship forever. Tears blurred her vision and she wiped them away. “I knew he wouldn’t leave me,” she whispered.

Relief flashed across his face. “You’re really something, Lina.”

Very slowly he opened his arms, and she moved into his embrace. It was the first time he’d ever hugged her, and she knew she’d never forget it, not ever. It felt like Francis… and it felt like Angel, as if they were both holding her, both of the men she loved so much.

She had no idea how long they sat there, twined together on the top step, talking about anything and everything that came to mind. But sometime around ten o’clock, about the time old Mrs. Hendicott opened her back door for the last time and tossed her tabby tomcat outside, it started to rain. Slow, plunking drops that came on a breath of unseasonably warm wind. Strangely, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

Behind them, the porch swing squeaked and shot sideways, as if an unseen hand had given it a good shove. It made a whining, creaking noise. The wind picked up and whistled through the eaves, and it sounded—crazily—like Uncle Francis’s laugh.

Chapter Twenty-four

The media descended on St. Joe’s like the circus coming to tow

n. Reporters, technicians, camera operators, and anchorpeople from around the country poured from vans and rental cars, collecting in the hospital parking lot, buzzing back and forth as they checked and rechecked their equipment. They lugged their heavy black boxes and huge portable lights up the brick steps and down the main hallway.

The cafeteria had been closed for Angel’s press conference, scheduled to begin at ten o’clock, and it was rapidly filling with people.

Black electrical cords slithered across the speckled linoleum floor in search of outlets. Clunky lights shone their bright beams on the podium Dr. Allenford had had set up beside the cash register. Dozens of reporters had broken off into little groups, each television station or magazine huddling in its own corner, testing its microphones. All except the newspaper reporters—they sat sprawled in uncomfortable chairs, notebooks in hand, looking disgustedly around at their competition.

Angel stood in the kitchen behind the cafeteria, watching the goings-on through a small round window in the door. He was next to a huge walk-in freezer, but he knew that wasn’t what was making him feel so cold.

It was nerves.

Someone touched his shoulder and he jumped, spinning around. Madelaine and Chris and his new cardiologist, Sarandon, were all staring at him. Madelaine slowly drew her hand away from his shoulder.

Angel tried to grin. “I can’t believe this … I’m nervous. Hell, I’ve done this a million times.”

She gave him a wry look. “Sober?”

He thought about it. “Good point.”

Allenford glanced at his watch. “It’s ten o’clock.”

Angel grabbed Madelaine’s hand. “I don’t know if I can do it”

“You can do anything, Angel DeMarco. When are you going to realize that?”

The way she said it was so calm, so matter-of-fact, as if it were a given truth that Angel could do anything, be anything. Her simple faith in him stunned him. He tried to smile back. “What would I do without you?”

She laughed, but it was an anxious, fluttery sound. “Are you ready?”

“Don’t tell Lina I acted like this. She thinks I’m way cool.”