Sing A New Song Page 9

  “Hi,” Neil greeted her. “I saw a light flickering back here and came to make sure everything was all right.” He saw the huge flashlight bouncing off Tiffany’s lap and chuckled. “Oh, that explains it.” Neil noticed soiled tissues tossed haphazardly at her feet and used the back of his hand to move them delicately out of the way before he sat next to her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I just . . .” Tiffany hiccupped. “I wish I was going to be alive to see my daughter grow up. This is just not fair. I never smoked a day in my life. I just do not understand how I could have gotten lung cancer.”

  Neil felt his heart constrict with grief. He did not know what to say. Wordlessly, he enfolded Tiffany in his arms and allowed her to cry freely. “Go ahead and cry,” Neil whispered in her ear, along with other soothing sentiments, but Tiffany was inconsolable. She was crying nonstop, and all he could do was hold on to his friend.

  It felt so good just being held like this by someone who cared, Tiffany thought. Her mother did not do this. But Neil was strong and encouraging. Tiffany knew she could just let go without fear of him taking advantage. Neil was just not that kind of a man. Even though Myra had been her best friend, Neil and Tiffany had forged a bond all those years ago, when they each were facing a difficult time in their lives.

  Neil eyed a crumpled tissue box by Tiffany’s hip and pulled out a few tissues to wipe Tiffany’s tears. “There, there,” he said as he patted her shoulders just as a father would a child. His heart went out to this lonely, rich woman. When Tiffany found success in the music world, he was so glad for her and prayed she would finally be happy. Life had dealt her a harsh hand. He wished he knew why Tiffany kept getting such a raw deal. It was just so sad.

  After a few moments, Tiffany composed herself. The two of them sat silently under the tree, both caught up in their own thoughts. Finally, Neil looked at his watch. “It’s been over an hour since I got here.” He had to get home before Myra woke up to find him gone. Her mind was too suspicious for his liking. She was apt to read more into his visit with Tiffany than the actual truth. Neil was not ready for that headache. “I’d better go, but I’ll be praying,” he said, making his excuses.

  “I know,” Tiffany responded, looking up at him. “You had better go before Myra gets the wrong impression.”

  She had echoed his thoughts exactly.

  Tiffany watched Neil walk out of her backyard to head back home. He was such a compassionate and caring man. He was for real. Tiffany truly appreciated having him in her life, especially now. Neil was her rock, her fortress. Tiffany could only hope Myra realized what she had. Sighing, Tiffany shifted her thoughts toward Thomas, who had promised to drop by her house. Tiffany wondered if she was wise in letting Thomas visit her here alone. He was a big man, and if he lost his temper . . . “I’d better give him a call.”

  Tiffany jumped to her feet and brushed the dirt and leaves off her bottom. She went inside the house to get her address book. Quickly, she punched in the numbers to Thomas’s cell phone. Thomas kept eclectic hours, so she knew he was generally up until the wee hours of the morning.

  “Hi,” Thomas greeted affectionately. “Calling about tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” Tiffany said, twirling the cord on the landline. “I was hoping we could meet at the Carle Place instead.”

  “Ah, okay. Sounds cool to me.” He hung up the phone without saying good-bye.

  Tiffany glanced at the phone in her hand, listening to the dial tone. “Some things never change.” He had always hung up without really saying good-bye. It used to drive her nuts, but that was Thomas.

  Tiffany went to the refrigerator to get bottled water. The refrigerator temperature was set so cold that if she put the bottled waters on the top shelf, they would semi-freeze. “Ahh. Nothing quenches like water.” She gulped the water so fast that it leaked out of the side of her mouth and down her shirt. Tiffany didn’t bother to wipe it up.

  Aimlessly, she wandered through the house, feeling listless. Nights like these made her feel incredibly lonely. She had been an idol to many men, and yet there was not even one to warm her bed tonight. Tiffany just missed the smell and feel of a man.

  Tiffany walked up the stairs and gently opened Karlie’s door to check on her. Finding her sound asleep, Tiffany closed the door and went into her bedroom, saying, “Another night in this big bed on my own.” She hoped for a good night’s sleep.

  Tomorrow would be the day.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thomas took his time getting dressed. He wanted to look his best when he met with Tiffany. He looked in the mirror to appraise himself. “I look good,” he said. “Tiffany ain’t ready for all of this.” He patted his freshly trimmed hair. He then dabbed some cologne on the crucial spots, just in case. “Hey, a man can always still hope.”

  Promptly at eleven, Thomas walked into the diner. Tiffany was already there. He noticed there was an excitement in the air. He knew some of the patrons recognized her from back in the day. Thomas puffed out his shoulders, feeling like a million bucks. He knew everybody was looking at him with speculation. Thomas literally bit his tongue to stop himself from proclaiming that Tiffany was his wife—er, ex-wife.

  Thomas watched Tiffany eyeing his approach. He noticed her eyes scan him with interest and exaggerated his manly stride. Thomas knew he looked the same from high school and he was still fit. With a lot of swagger, he gave Tiffany a kiss on the cheek. Well, he headed for the lips since he had an audience, but Tiffany quickly sideswiped him and turned her cheek. It was worth a try.

  An anxious waiter approached before Thomas’s behind even hit the chair. “Are you ready to order?”

  Thomas noticed that as he asked the question, the waiter kept his eyes pinned on Tiffany. The waiter appeared to be in his mid-thirties, so he would have recognized Tiffany Knightly. Thomas harrumphed loudly, feeling like Mr. Tiffany again.

  Tiffany smiled pleasantly at the waiter and said, “Give us a few minutes, please.”

  The waiter enthusiastically nodded his head and rushed off without even a glance in Thomas’s direction. He supposed the waiter was on the sidelines, waiting for his chance to approach their table again.

  Making small talk, they caught up on what was new in their lives. It was not until after they had eaten their meal that Tiffany divulged the reason she needed to see him.

  “Thomas, I have to tell you something, and I have no idea how to even begin.”

  Moved, Thomas grabbed her hands. She was actually shaking. “Tiffany, what is it? I promise you, it cannot be as bad as you imagine. Just say it out loud.”

  “I—I can’t,” Tiffany replied, hedging. Her breath caught.

  “Just go ahead.”

  His gentle tone seemed to upset her even more. Thomas saw tears streak down her face. She bit her lips before looking him square in the eyes. “Thomas, I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  “Tiffany, you’re alarming me now. Please, honey, just tell me, because the reality cannot be worse than what I am thinking.” Thomas picked up a napkin and wiped the sweat off his face. Tiffany was really scaring him. He had never seen her behave like this.

  “I’m afraid it is,” Tiffany confessed. She grabbed his hands and finally spoke the words. “Thomas, I lied to you. I lied all those years ago, and our marriage was all based on a lie.”

  Thomas gave her a couple of tissues to wipe her face. His thoughtfulness made Tiffany utter, “Thomas, it doesn’t help my conscience that you are being so nice to me now, especially since I do not deserve it.”

  “Tiffany, I am in no position to throw stones,” Thomas countered. “Remember what I did?”

  Tiffany closed her eyes and nodded, remembering the terror she had felt when she had entered their apartment to find Karlie all alone. “Yes, I remember being scared out of my mind. I couldn’t fathom why you had done that.”

  “Tiffany, I just want to apologize all over again. Believe me, I have never forgiven myself for what I did. And I don’t even know why.�
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  “Stop, Thomas,” Tiffany insisted. “That’s not why I wanted to meet. It is not about rehashing the past—well, not your past. I need to come clean.”

  She had his undivided attention. Thomas’s heartbeat escalated, and his body tensed. “Well, let’s hear it.”

  “Thomas, I was not totally honest with you. I—I am not sure you are Karlie’s father.”

  “What?” Thomas grabbed on to his chair. “What do you mean?”

  Tiffany licked her lips and took another sip of water. “You weren’t the only one I had been with that summer. I had slept with three other guys, so I’m not sure if you are Karlie’s father. In my heart, you are, though.”

  Thomas watched her glossy, full lying lips, willing himself not to put his hands on her. “Why? What?”

  “Thomas, I’m dying, and I need you to take a paternity test. I need to make sure you’re truly Karlie’s father.”

  Did she really have the nerve to ask if he would be willing to take a paternity test? Was she out of her cotton-picking mind? Thomas wondered. He saw Tiffany’s expectant, anxious expression as she waited for his response. Thomas blinked. He sat in his chair and just looked at her as his mind processed everything she had told him. He could feel his blood boiling but resisted the urge to slam his fists on the table. “Now I know why you wanted to meet in public.”

  She was smart, because if they had been alone . . .

  Tiffany sat and watched the different emotions cross her ex-husband’s face. She wanted to remain stoic, but she was a basket case. She could only imagine what Thomas was thinking.

  “You mean to tell me all these years I have been walking around, feeling like the biggest deadbeat that abandoned his only child, when Karlie might not even be mine?” Thomas growled the question between gritted teeth.

  His growl made her insides quake with fear. She released small pent-up breaths, and her body trembled uncontrollably. Tiffany had tried to prepare herself for his certain anger, but what she saw before her surpassed her expectations. Nothing could have prepared her for this. She could feel the force of his wrath hit her body like shock waves. Her mouth felt parched, goose bumps rose on her flesh, and her teeth chattered.

  Thomas was at boiling point and made a concerted effort to keep his temper in check.

  Realizing she had yet to answer his question, Tiffany nodded her head, for she could not find the voice to answer him aloud. She could see the table rattling because of her shaking legs.

  “No,” Thomas spat. “There’s your answer. No. I am not doing it.”

  “Thomas, please keep your voice down,” Tiffany begged. She looked around, and fortunately, the other diners were busy with their meals.

  Thomas did not care, and he looked at Tiffany with utter contempt. “You are not the woman I thought you were. Do you know that it is because of that guilt that I never moved on or had more children? Because I did not think I deserved to be a father. And you let me live my life with this big burden on my back without ever telling me the truth. You never would have told me the truth if you were not dying, would you?”

  Tiffany knew she had to be honest. “No, because honestly, I consider you her father. To me, you are Karlie’s father.”

  “Please,” Thomas returned. He splayed his hands dramatically. “I am not buying that one at all. This explains why you made me sign those papers promising never to talk about you to the press. You were so conniving. I cannot believe I never saw just how much.”

  Tiffany felt the tears prick her eyes. She grabbed a tissue before pleading with Thomas. “Please, Thomas, I know you have every right to be angry, but think of Karlie. When I die, she won’t have anybody but her father.” Tiffany whispered her plea passionately.

  Thomas got up and threw his napkin onto the table. Then he spun around and left without another word. His look of disgust said everything.

  Tiffany sat there for about fifteen minutes, hoping Thomas would return, but he did not. Holding back the tears, she quickly settled her tab, left a generous tip, and drove to her home. Tiffany was a wreck. She had to get it together before Karlie came home. “I messed up,” Tiffany admitted. “I went about it all wrong.”

  Tiffany threw herself on her bed, feeling extremely disappointed. She knew Thomas would be angry but had counted on him agreeing to take the paternity test. If he turned out to be the biological father, that would spare her from having to place three other calls and interrupt three other lives. But after today she knew she needed to make those calls. She would determine if Thomas was the father using the process of elimination.

  A bad feeling came over her. Tiffany quickly raced to the bathroom. She barely made it before she released the soup and crackers she had eaten for lunch into the bowl. Tiffany heaved and heaved until she was exhausted. Sinking to the bathroom floor, she rested her head against the bowl. A few minutes later, she felt another set of cramps assail her and vomited again. This time there was a tiny pool of blood in the bowl. Seeing the blood made dying real to her, because it meant that her condition was worsening.

  Spent, Tiffany got up and leaned against the wall of the bathroom. She pulled her body upward until she stood against the sink. Then she washed her hands and brushed her teeth. She looked at herself in the mirror. She saw the gaunt face reflecting her illness but said, “I have to go on for Karlie’s sake. I have got to see this nightmare through.”

  Tiffany regretted throwing the pills out. She would request another prescription on her next scheduled visit. The pills made her feel worse, but maybe they would help keep the sickness at bay. Her other option would be to do nothing but bear the pain and nausea. Tough it out.

  The next morning Tiffany buckled over in pain. Her lungs were constricted, and she felt achy all over. When Karlie looked in on her before leaving for school, Tiffany put on a brave face. “I’m okay, Karlie. Please don’t be late for school.”

  “This is so unfair to her,” Tiffany mumbled. It was only 6:00 A.M., but she had made up her mind to dial Dr. Ettelman’s office and leave a message with his answering service. Within minutes, Dr. Ettelman returned the call.

  Clearly upset at an early morning call that could have been prevented, Dr. Ettelman spoke his mind. “Tiffany, I am surprised that you would’ve thrown out the prescription pills. I understand that you really hate taking medication, but there will be days when you will need it. Don’t kid yourself. It is better to have them and not use them than to endure a night like you did last night. You have a debilitating condition, and it will not get better.”

  Tiffany took her scolding like a trouper. “Yes, you’re right, Dr. Ettelman,” she offered meekly, ending his tirade.

  Dr. Ettelman relented and softened his tone. “I will have my nurse personally FedEx you some morphine ampoules and needles. In the meantime, give my nurse your nearest drugstore information, and you can pick up some pills to tide you over till the package arrives.”

  “Thank, you, Doctor,” Tiffany returned, then ended the call.

  Dr. Ettelman’s words rang in her ear. “You have a debilitating condition. . . . It will not get better. . . .”

  But she had a will . . . a will to live. Tiffany looked at the clock . . . and knew she had another phone call to make.

  Chapter Eighteen

  He was tired, and it showed. Darnell stood in his bathroom and saw the puffy eyes staring back at him. He leaned into the mirror for a closer look. “Is that a pimple? Aww, man.” Darnell knew his vanity was kicking in. “Now I’m gonna feel like I’m walking around with a monstrosity on my face.”

  His long brown hands zeroed in on the spot on the bottom of his chin. He was about to squeeze it when he remembered the witch hazel underneath the sink. Darnell stooped his long frame and heard his knees crack. “Getting old.”

  Retrieving the witch hazel and a couple cotton balls he kept stashed in a Ziploc bag, Darnell dabbed the annoying area, then abruptly lost interest, knowing that it would dry up. He generally did not suffer from breakouts, not e
ven when he was a teen. Darnell was more concerned about his puffy eyes. Last night’s game ran into overtime, and he did not get home until midnight. He was the head coach at Hempstead High School, and as a result, he was often the last one to leave. Lucky for him, April and Amber were already in bed when he got home, courtesy of his mother’s care. He did not know what he would do without his mother, because he sure as heck could not afford child care for two girls on his salary.

  He heard the bathroom door open and looked in the mirror to see who it was. There was no reflection. He felt a tiny pair of hands encircle his leg. He looked down and smiled at his four-year-old daughter.

  “Hi, April,” Darnell said, addressing the brown mop of curls.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “I am getting ready to brush my teeth,” Darnell answered and bent down to wrap his arms around his daughter. “Good morning, sunshine.” April giggled and squeezed him tightly. Darnell relished feeling her little arms around his neck. It made him feel on top of the world.

  He picked up his toothbrush. April grabbed on to his legs again. Darnell undid the toothpaste cap. April still did not release her hold on his legs.

  “Oh,” April commented. “You are gonna brush your teeth?”

  “Yes,” Darnell answered with extreme patience. “Watch how I do it, and then you can follow.” He was used to these kinds of conversations and actually welcomed them.

  “But I have to pee,” April said. “I cannot watch.”

  “I have to pee too.”

  Darnell turned his head toward the other voice and smiled at another brown mop of curls. Amber was up.

  Knowing the drama about to unfold, Darnell firmly addressed both of them. “You both cannot pee in here at the same time. Amber, you’re a big girl, so go in the other bathroom and pee.”