Cheesecake and Teardrops (21 page)

“Before sundown,” the jeweler reminded Tony.

“Yes, before sundown,” Tony agreed.

 

Saturday night Tangie made dinner for Tony and her parents. It was a very relaxed evening, and Ted Winterhope took an instant liking to Tony. Della helped her daughter in the kitchen while Tony and Mr. Winterhope watched a basketball game in the living room. Tangie peeked her head out the kitchen to hear what the men were talking about.

“I love your daughter very much, Mr. Winterhope. There's nothing I wouldn't do for her,” Tony was saying.

“Tangie tells me you work for the FBI,” Ted said.

“That's correct.”

“And you don't think her safety would ever be an issue? I have to protect my daughter.”

“I understand, but I promise you that I would never take an assignment that would jeopardize her safety. I give you my word, man-to-man,” Tony promised.

Tangie's mother pulled her back into the kitchen. “Let the men be,” she told her daughter. “You invited us over for dinner, and it's not even ready. My child, my child.” She smiled and shook her head.

Tangie spent the next half hour or so concentrating on dinner. However, she did manage to pop her head out one last time to hear the men wrap up their conversation.

Ted looked his prospective son-in-law in the eye. For a moment neither spoke. Finally, he extended his arm and they both stood and shook hands.

“Then, you have my blessings,” Ted said simply.

Smiling, Tangie breathed a sigh of relief as she finished cooking. After dinner, they all watched the second half of the doubleheader. During a commercial break, Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a little red box.

“Since I have your parents' blessing, I think it's time we made this official.” Tony got down on one knee. “Tangela Winterhope, will you marry me?”

Tangie whispered, “Yes.”

Tony revealed the contents of the box. It was the platinum marquise.

“Oh my God,” was all Tangie could say. “Oh my God.”

 

“I have a surprise for you,” Tangie said as she met the girls for pizza one night.

“What's that?” Heather asked.

“Tah-dah,” Tangie said, displaying her ring finger.

“Oh my goodness. It's beautiful,” Charisma exclaimed.

“I love it,” Tangie agreed.

“Wow.” Heather's eyes popped.

“Looks like it's official,” Charisma added.

“You know it,” Tangie said. “I still can't believe it. I guess when you least expect it, expect it. I wish we could all be happy at the same time. Charisma, I still can't believe you stood Nate up at the airport. What's wrong with you? He was all that, and you just go and blow him off. What exactly are you looking for in a man, anyway?”

“I know I messed up big-time, girl. And now it's too late. He relocated to the Manhattan office. So I don't even see him anymore. If I had to do it over again, I'd do things differently. I really would,” Charisma confessed.

“That shoulda-woulda-coulda stuff will eat you alive,” Heather added.

“Don't I know it.” Charisma rubbed the hair down on the back of her neck.

“Well, hopefully your guardian angel is working things out for you as we speak,” Tangie said.

“From your lips to God's ears,” Charisma prayed.

Jena Dearborn couldn't sleep. Something wasn't right. She couldn't put her finger on it. She couldn't explain it, but her gut was telling her that something was terribly wrong. She looked over at her husband, who was sleeping peacefully.

Not wanting to disturb him, she got out of bed and headed for the kitchen to make herself some herbal tea. She glanced at the clock above the oven. It was 6:00
A.M.
Ellis would be up in about half an hour.

She sat and sipped the tea nervously, running her fingers through her hair. Then the strangest thing happened. In her heart she began reciting the Lord's Prayer, but this time it was different. It was as though someone was actually walking through the valley of the shadow of death to get to the other side. It was eerie and surreal, and she shuddered at the thought. A chill went through her entire body.

Jena washed out the cup, saucer, and teaspoon and headed back to bed. She snuggled up to her husband. He was terribly still. Too still. She shook him gently.

“Ellis, sweetheart?” She shook him harder. Ellis didn't move a muscle.

“Oh my God,” Jena screamed. “Oh my God.”

Just like that, he was gone. He had passed away in his sleep.

 

April first started out like any other normal weekday for Charisma. After her alarm went off, she lay in bed for a few moments to collect her thoughts and thank God for another day. Then, it was off to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She had just gotten out of the shower when the phone rang. It was her mother, sobbing.

“Mother, what's wrong?” Charisma asked.

“It's your father,” she cried. “He's—” Jena was hyperventilating.

“Ma, is Daddy okay? What happened?”

“He's dead, Charisma.”

“What?” she yelled.

“Your father's gone.”

Charisma's legs gave out. She collapsed on her bed, the tears welling up in her eyes. Her father was gone. How could that be? It was too soon. She wasn't ready to say good-bye. She tried to be strong for her mother's sake.

“Have you called Eric?” Charisma asked.

“No, I haven't told your brother yet. You're the first person I called. I haven't even called 9-1-1.”

“I'll break it to him, Mother. We'll be right over, okay?”

“All right, honey.”

“Do you need me to bring you anything?”

“No. Just come as soon as you can.” Jena was tearing up again.

“We're on our way.”

 

Chase Martini had rehearsed it a thousand times in her mind, but as she sat at the dining room table along with her parents and grandparents, her mind drew a complete blank. How was she going to tell them? Dress rehearsals were a breeze compared to the real thing. She took a sip of her orange juice, cleared her throat, and took a deep breath.

It was true-confession time, but did she have the strength to tell all? She cleared her throat again, and this time Stone and Lola looked up at their granddaughter. Her parents were in deep conversation about something or other. Chase was oblivious to exactly what. She took another sip before speaking.

“There's something I need to tell you,” Chase said, barely audible.

Roberto and Sloane looked up at their daughter. “What is it, Chase?” Sloane said, sensing an urgency and giving her her full attention. “We're all listening.”

Five minutes later Stone clutched his throat as his chest tightened in a viselike grip. He couldn't speak or breathe.

“Oh my God, Daddy, are you all right?” Sloane asked.

Lola jumped up and walked over to her husband at the other end of the table. “Sloane, call 9-1-1.”

Sloane was frozen with shock.

“Now,” Lola barked, unbuttoning her husband's collar.

Within minutes the ambulance had arrived. Roberto escorted the emergency medical technicians into the dining room.

“Mr. Canyon, can you tell us what happened?”

Stone couldn't utter a word.

“Mr. Canyon, you're having a heart attack. We're going to get you to the hospital. Mrs. Canyon, is your husband allergic to any medication?” the EMT asked.

“Not that we know of,” Lola said.

Glued to her seat, Chase watched in horror, stunned by the effects of her news on her grandfather. She sobbed softly as chaos loomed all around him.
Oh God, if anything happens to Granddaddy, I'll be to blame.

 

Charisma and Eric arrived over their mother's around the same time. They were both in shock.

“How did Mom sound?” Eric asked, falling into step with his sister.

“She's taking it real hard. We have to be strong for her, Eric.”

“I know,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. He unlocked the front door with his key. They walked inside.

“Mother?” Charisma said.

“In here,” Jena answered from the kitchen. She was sitting at the table, sipping coffee and looking dazed. They walked over and embraced, hot tears spilling down all three of their faces. Finally, Jena got up to get a tissue. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose before sitting back down.

“Mom, can we take one last look at Dad?” Eric asked.

“Of course, honey,” Jena said.

Eric and Charisma's eyes met as they tried to prepare themselves for one last look at their father as the coroner pulled up at the house. They climbed the stairs together—first Charisma and then Eric.

The covers were still wrapped around Ellis as though he was trying to stay warm. Charisma's eyes moistened at the sight of her father in the pajamas she had bought him for Christmas. The lump in her throat made it virtually impossible to swallow. She began to sob, deep gut-wrenching sobs that tore at her heart. How would she survive without her daddy? Soon Eric was crying too—big, salty tears that chased each other down his cheeks.

Charisma threw her arms around her brother and they cried together. Then, while holding on to her brother with one hand, she gently touched her father's shoulder with the other.

“Daddy,” she prayed. “I just want you to know how much we love you and how much you'll be missed. What are we going to do without you?” Her voice cracked.

Eric gently rubbed her back. “Until we meet again, Dad.”

They dried their eyes and went down to the kitchen just as the coroner and the medical examiner were finishing up with Jena. They asked her if she wanted to donate his vital organs. Jena told them that Ellis was already a registered donor. They offered their condolences and quickly removed his body.

They took a few moments for themselves before beginning the difficult task of contacting family, friends, and coworkers. There was so much to do.

By now it was after eight o'clock. Charisma called Freeman to give them the news. Her boss was saddened to hear of Ellis's passing, and asked if Charisma wanted an e-mail announcement sent out. Charisma had no objection. She agreed to keep her posted with the final arrangements as they became available.

After Eric called his boss, he offered to make them all breakfast. Jena wouldn't hear of it. She called the boutique and then tried to fix breakfast for her family. She had no way of knowing that the dinner she had prepared last night for her husband would be the last she'd ever make for him.

She began to cry all over again.

“It's okay, Mother,” Charisma said. “Let it out.”

“I'm going back to bed,” Jena said.

“I'll fix breakfast and bring you up a plate,” Charisma told her.

Jena simply nodded and went back upstairs.

 

For Charisma, Ellis's funeral, which was held three days later, was all so surreal. She and her brother sat on the front pew on either side of their mother, comforting her as best they could. The service immediately followed the wake. Then came a long processional of friends and family—hugging, kissing, trying to console. Charisma's makeup was smeared all over her face. She stared down as tears found their way onto her lap.

Someone standing in front of her bent down and handed her a handkerchief. She looked up. It was Nate. She stood and they embraced for a long moment without speaking.

“I was so sorry to hear about your father,” Nate said.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispered in his ear before letting go.

“If there's anything you need . . .” He searched her eyes.

“Call me.”

“I will.” She smiled through her tears.

Nate took her hands in his, brought them up to his lips, and kissed them gently. “I'm here for you, sweetheart. I mean it.”

After the funeral and the trip to the cemetery, everyone went back to Jena's. Charisma was happy to see Tangie and Heather. They never let her down. Her girls were always there for her. Both had been very fond of Ellis. Tangie had known him since kindergarten and Heather since college.

With all the holidays, barbecues, and parties they had shared with the Dearborns, they were like family, helping out in the kitchen without being asked.

Charisma's family was scattered all over the country. Unfortunately, it wasn't often that they were all together. She was happy to see her relatives—most of them, anyway.

Her cousin Dora cornered her in the kitchen. “So, are you married yet?” she asked, examining the two-karat wedding band on her left hand as though it were an unidentified sparkling object.

“Am I supposed to be?” Charisma answered, leaving Dora to pick her chin up off the floor.

Charisma returned to the living room. Grandma and Grandpa Dearborn were sitting quietly on the sofa. Charisma squeezed in between them. They say that burying a child is the hardest loss to bear. The sadness in their eyes said it all.

She put her arms around them. “Can I get you anything, Grandma, Grandpa?” Charisma asked gently. “I know it's hard. How are you two doing?” She rubbed their arms and shoulders gently.

“Well . . .” Marie Dearborn began to tear up. “Not so well. I mean, if we can't get through the first week, how do we get through a lifetime?”

“I know, Grandma. I've been asking myself the same thing.” She grabbed their hands, trying to console them. Grandpa was still. He never said much, just kept it all in. She looked at her grandpa and saw a tear slide quietly down his cheek. She kissed him gently on the cheek before making a mad dash to her old bedroom. She prayed for the strength to make it through the night.

 

Charisma took two weeks off to try and get her life back in order. For the first few days she stayed in bed, sleeping on and off. She did manage to call and check on her mother and brother, and she postponed her fibroid surgery. One night she watched
Meet Joe Black
. She and her father had made a point of watching it every Father's Day. It was their favorite father-daughter movie. She cried like a baby at the ending, but only this time it truly hit home.

Toward the end of the first week she was able to get up, take a hot bath, and put on some clothes. She even started returning phone calls. Heather and Tangie had called several times, but she hadn't the energy to talk. She called Tangie and then threewayed Heather in. She assured her girls that she was fine, just taking it one day at a time. They made her promise that she would call if there was anything she needed.

Little by little her appetite returned. Mourning had caused her to drop a few pounds so she could afford to splurge. She made herself a grilled cheese and bacon sandwich. It was the perfect complement to a hot, comforting bowl of tomato soup.

She glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was only twelve-thirty. She had been in for days. Houseatosis was setting in. She decided to go out for some fresh air. Maybe take a drive to the supermarket. The cold air felt refreshing against her skin. She wore no makeup, only a hint of lip gloss.

Charisma walked up and down the near empty aisles. Early-afternoon grocery shopping was a pleasure, especially during the week. Halfway down the bread aisle, she flipped open her cell phone and called her mother. Jena gave her a small list of items to pick up. Charisma breezed through the checkout line and headed over to her mother's.

It was amazing how a little fresh air and sunshine could lift her spirits. She pulled up to the driveway and sat in the car for a minute. Then she gathered up the groceries, got out of the car, and let herself inside the house.

Jena was in the kitchen fixing dinner. She gave her mother a big hug and kiss and put the bag of groceries away. Jena tried to pay her daughter, but Charisma wouldn't hear of it.

“Mother, how's Eric doing? I've only heard from him once since the funeral.”

“Your brother's like your grandfather. He doesn't say much, but still waters run deep. As a matter of fact, he called this morning. He wanted to know if it was all right with me if he kept your father's gold cuff links—the ones he wore to the funeral. Of course I told him it was fine.”

She took lamb chops out of the fridge. “Hungry?” she asked Charisma.

Charisma knew her mother had to be lonely. “Sure. Need some help?”

“No, honey, you just relax while I throw these chops under the broiler. And I made mashed potatoes and green beans.”

“Mmm, sounds good.” She began setting the table. It felt strange not setting a place for her father. A tear ran down her check. Charisma wiped it away with her sleeve before her mother could see it. Charisma wasn't really hungry, but she didn't want her mother to eat alone. It must he hard getting used to an empty house.

They ate dinner and sat and talked for awhile. Charisma cleaned up the kitchen before she left. When she returned home, she took another bath—with bubbles this time—and slipped into her favorite silky pajamas. She loaded up her stereo with her favorite CDs and lit a scented candle in her father's memory. She had done that every night since he passed. Then she curled up on the sofa with a mug of hot chocolate.