Poughkeepsie (38 page)

“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.