He looked back over at her, sitting cross-legged on the cement floor of the storage shed, and flipping through something that looked like a high school yearbook. She had tears floating in her pretty eyes and his heart hurt for her. She wasn’t just discovering that her mother had been a real person that she’d taken for granted her entire life. She was seeing the woman who gave birth to her, who gave up medical school...and her own family...for her, almost for the very first time. A shudder ripped through him and he had to turn away again. He didn’t want her to see the tears in his own eyes, the ones that were there as a combination of empathy for her and a renewed understanding for the things that parents gave up for their kids, and the sometimes-thankless lives they lived in return.
18
By the time they had to leave to meet Blackheart at the Inn, Patrice had only gone through one box. She’d taken everything out slowly, touching it tenderly, and reading every page of any card or book she found. Gabe’s heart was twisted up and he was almost exhausted from fighting the tears that threatened to pour down his face as freely as the ones that were running down hers.
She was quiet on the drive over to the Inn, which only took about ten minutes. It was on the far edge of town, away from the bigger, fancier ones that undoubtedly attracted the elite on vacation, looking for a five-star meal and spa as part of their package. The “Inn” was nothing more than an old Victorian mansion that had been renovated to offer travelers a comfortable night’s sleep and maybe a few good, home-cooked meals. Blackheart was already there, and while Patrice went inside with him, Gabe waited outside with Lowlife and Le Pirate. Once their president was out of earshot Lowlife said:
“Damn, that girl looks so much like him, it freaks me out a little.” Le Pirate laughed then, and before he even opened his mouth, Gabe cringed.
“How do you not think about Blackheart when...”
“Don’t say it,” Lowlife beat Gabe to it. Gabe knew Le Pirate didn’t mean anything by the remark, but his muscles were tense and his fists were clenched at his sides just waiting for it. Le Pirate looked at Gabe’s hands at his sides and with a sincere tone he said:
“Hey, bro, I’m sorry. Sometimes my mouth starts running before my head starts working.”
Gabe let his body relax and smiled at Le Pirate. “I get it, man. She looks just like him...but she’s not him. I don’t think about him at all when I’m alone with her, trust me.” Lowlife chuckled and winked at him. Le Pirate laughed too, and then they all looked up at the big, white house in front of them and Gabe, at least, wished he knew what was going on inside.
Patrice was amused. She’d been torn up, looking at all of her mother’s things and thinking about all she’d missed, so her amusement surprised her. But standing next to Blackheart at the check-in counter at the Inn, she’d watched him work his “magic” on the young girl, and it had amused her. Patrice supposed that she could see that he was a good-looking man. She knew a lot of women really got into the tattoo sleeve thing, although she had never been overly impressed with tats. Gabe only had the one on his back, and she liked that. He didn’t have to walk around advertising them...she’d always thought men who did were lacking something else. Five minutes at that counter proved to her that whatever her biological father was lacking, it certainly wasn’t self-confidence. He called the girl “hon” and put an almost French spin on the end of all of his words, and Patrice watched the barely-out-of-her-teens woman practically dissolve into a pile of mush before her eyes. When the girl walked to the back to fetch Grayson, she couldn’t help but say:
“That was quite a show.” Blackheart gave her a quizzical look and she said, “That poor girl was so smitten with the way you were flirting with her that she could barely breathe.” He chuckled then and winked at her and said:
“That wasn’t flirting, it’s just my natural charm.”
Patrice rolled her eyes, but before she could think of a smart retort, a middle-aged man was coming out of the back, followed by the girl who still couldn’t seem to take her eyes off Blackheart. “Mr. Babineaux?”
“Yes,” Blackheart said. “And this is Patrice Cormier.” Patrice hadn’t heard anyone use her actual name. She’d gone through her life thinking her uncle was her father and of course her last name was the same as his. But she liked Cormier and in spite of herself, she smiled at Blackheart when he said it. When she looked back at the other man, he was looking at her strangely.
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” he said. “I’m sorry...it’s just a little strange. I haven’t seen you since you were about eight months old. You always did have the prettiest blue eyes.” He took her offered hand, but glanced at Blackheart as he did, undoubtedly noticing the resemblance the way everyone else seemed to. When he let go of her hand Grayson Little said, “Why don’t we go back to my office? Louise, hold my calls, okay?” The girl nodded, but shamelessly still had her eyes all over Blackheart. Oddly annoyed by that, as Patrice slipped past her she whispered:
“He’s taken.” The girl gave her a look that could kill and Patrice returned it with a smug smile.
Grayson took them back to a small, comfortable office and offered them a seat and something to drink. They both sat but declined the offer of a beverage and Blackheart got straight to the point. “So you remember Kasey well?”
“I do,” he said, sitting behind his desk. “Kasey was a sweet girl and we really enjoyed having her here with us, even though it was for such a short time. My ex-wife and I were devastated to hear what had happened to her.” He looked at Patrice then and said, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” she said, “but I didn’t even know about her until recently.” The man looked confused and Patrice gave him a brief breakdown of how she’d been raised, thinking the pretty dark-haired girl in pictures was her aunt, and not her mother. When she finished he let out a low whistle and said:
“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry to hear that. Kasey was crazy about you. She was a good little mother. You always came first to her. My ex-wife and I were never able to have children and watching her with you when she brought you to work every day was heartwarming for us. For those few short months, having a baby around brought a lot of joy to our lives.”
“Thank you,” Patrice said. Again, straight to the point, Blackheart said:
“Did you know of anyone who might have had a problem with Kasey? Someone who might have wanted to hurt her? Did she ever mention being afraid of anyone, especially right before she went out to New Orleans to her father’s funeral?”
Grayson frowned and his bushy gray eyebrows met in the middle. “I was told by Paul that Kasey committed suicide; is that not true?”
Blackheart looked at Patrice and she said, “I’m having a hard time believing that. She had everything to live for, and she just suddenly decides to jump off a balcony and leave her eight-month-old child alone? Does that make sense to you?”
He was already shaking his head. “I never asked for details. I mean, Paul told me she had jumped from a balcony, which is horrible. I didn’t know...you were there, with her?”