Chasing Dreams Page 5

  His hands shook and his mind reeled. He had decisions to make that a man his age shouldn’t have to think about. But then, no child Mateo’s age should have to think about losing his mother either.

  Luke knocked softly on the front door. Mateo opened it, releasing a gust of stale air into the spring morning. The smell of antiseptic cleaners assailed Luke as he stepped inside. And something worse—the coppery scent of blood.

  He gave Mateo a quick one-armed hug, not wanting to make the reason for his visit appear overly grave. Though it obviously was. “Are you hanging in there, buddy?”

  Mateo shrugged and looked up at him from beneath a black fringe of bangs.

  Luke heard quiet voices coming from the short hallway that led to the bedroom across from Mateo’s. “Is your mom conscious? Or … awake?”

  “She was for a little bit.” He tilted his head toward the hallway. “They won’t let me go in.”

  “That’s okay. They will soon. They’re probably just getting her settled.”

  “They’re cleaning up the blood.”

  “Oh.” Luke’s breath hitched that this kid could make such a statement about his mother without emotion. “It’ll be okay.” He kept his arm tight around the boy this time.

  They were still standing side by side when a woman Luke didn’t know appeared from the hallway. She carried an armful of wadded up sheets. Seeing Luke, she stopped. “I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

  He gave a nod. “I’m Lukas Blaine. Mateo is my ‘Little’—in the Big Brothers Big Sisters program,” he explained.

  “Oh, yes. Maria said you’d be coming. Wonderful program, Big Brothers … It’s so good you could be here.” She gave him a knowing look before turning to Mateo. “You can go back and see your mom now. She might sound kind of groggy because of the medicine, but she’s awake and asking for you.”

  Mateo looked up at Luke as though asking permission.

  Luke nodded. “I’ll be right here. Take your time.”

  Mateo disappeared into Maria’s room, closing the door behind him, and Luke met the hospice nurse’s eyes. “Is it … getting close?”

  Her expression answered before her voice did. “I’m afraid so. She’s not in any pain, but she suffered a hemorrhage and they decided against another transfusion. At this point, it will just be a matter of keeping her comfortable.”

  “Mateo knows.”

  She looked taken aback. “Why do you think that?”

  “He told me on the phone—he called when they returned from the hospital … He said they didn’t know if she’d survive till morning. I think maybe he overheard one of the volunteers talking.”

  “Oh …” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. They should have been more careful.” She repositioned the load of bedding in her arms. “And I should have introduced myself. I’m Megan with hospice. Let me take care of this laundry and I’ll be right back.”

  “You know where the laundry facility is?”

  “Oh. No. I thought she had a washing machine in the apartment.”

  “I can take them. It’s downstairs. On the ground floor.” He fished some quarters out of his pocket.

  “Are you sure? You’ll want to … use cold water. And maybe some bleach.”

  “Luke?” Mateo poked his head out from Maria’s bedroom door. “Mama wants to talk to you.”

  “You go on.” The nurse nodded toward the hallway. “I’ll find the laundry. Be right back.”

  Luke held out the coins to her, the erratic beat of his heart pounding in his ears.

  Mateo held the bedroom door open for him. Luke stepped inside.

  He’d only been in this room once, when she’d asked him to help her move a dresser. The nurse had put side rails on her bed. Or, on closer inspection, maybe this was a hospital bed. He couldn’t recall what had been in the room before, but the space looked larger than he remembered. And Maria so much smaller.

  Her complexion was ghostly pale, as though she were fading away right before his eyes. Her dark hair spread across the white pillowcase, her face turned toward the room’s single window. But when Mateo closed the door, she rolled her head toward them.

  Her gaze met Luke’s before seeking out her son.

  “Mutt?” Maria lifted a hand and groped for the bedrail.

  It had taken Luke by surprise the first time he heard Maria call Mateo that. Mutt. “How do you spell that?” he’d asked.

  “M-U-T-T. You know, like a puppy.”

  “Ahh.”

  “Some kids on the playground called him Mutt-teo …” Maria had giggled in that carefree way she’d had before cancer had stolen her laughter. And the chance to watch her son grow up. “I don’t think he understood they were making fun. The boys at school all went by shortened first names, and Mateo just thought they’d given him a nickname too. He liked it, and it stuck, even though the teachers wouldn’t let him use that name in class. I know it might sound … inappropriate, but I am glad he’s the kind of kid who makes lemonade out of lemons.”

  Luke smiled at the memory. But he’d later learned that Mateo’s questionable nickname was what caused Maria to learn to speak almost flawless English. “I don’t ever want anyone to pick on my son because I don’t speak correctly.”

  It made him sad to think that she’d ever worried for a minute that Mateo wouldn’t be proud of her. He was. And all the more now that his mother had fought this cancer so bravely. She lost her hair during the first round of chemo, grew it back, then lost it again about a year ago. Ironically, now that the cancer had spread to her lungs and liver, her hair had grown back thicker and wavier than before, almost brushing her shoulders now. And she refused to pull it into the chignon she’d often worn before. “I won’t ever take hair for granted again.”

  Mateo rose and hurried to her bedside, squatting down to meet his mother’s gaze through the railing.

  “Give us a minute, okay, baby? I want to … talk to Luke.” Each word seemed an effort.

  Luke dug in his back pocket for his wallet and handed Mateo a five-dollar bill. “Why don’t you go get yourself a candy bar?” The kid was always begging to walk to the Rhodes station across from the nearby college campus. At first, Maria had been a nervous wreck each time until he returned, but she’d agreed he was old enough, and recently, it had been a help to be able to send him on short errands.

  Mateo nudged his arm. “You want anything?”

  Luke shook his head.

  “Mama? You want anything.”

  “No thanks, baby.” She tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. She didn’t even give her usual warning for him to stay on the sidewalk and look both ways before he crossed the street. “You go on now. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  He gave Luke a look that spoke volumes. A look that said he understood something out of the ordinary was going on.

  Maria closed her eyes, but the minute the front door slammed, she reached for Luke’s hand.

  CHAPTER 7

  THE ELEVATOR ACROSS THE HALL opened with a ding and Joanna looked up from her desk. Seeing Lukas Blaine step through the doors caused her pulse to skip an odd beat. She’d kept a wary eye on the hallway since returning from lunch, knowing he had an appointment with Trent this afternoon. And the man was as handsome as she remembered, despite the scowl he wore.

  When he saw her, he offered a smile that could only be termed obligatory. “Is Mr. Pritchert’s schedule … He’s not running behind, is he?” He glanced at the clock on the wall behind the reception desk.

  “He just got back from lunch. He’s with a client, but you’re his second appointment this afternoon, so it shouldn’t be long.”

  “Thank you.” His smile turned apologetic. “I really need to … be somewhere, so I was hoping I didn’t have to wait too long.”

  “I understand. Please have a seat and I’ll let you know the minute he’s available.” She indicated the grouping of leather chairs in the alcove across from her desk. “Could I get you a cup of coff
ee or a bottle of water while you wait?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  He walked over to the waiting area, but instead of taking a chair, he paced in front of the windows that overlooked the parking lot.

  She stood and leaned over the high desk, hoping to catch his eye. When he didn’t look her way, she cleared her throat. “I wanted to say again how thankful I am that you’re able to DJ my sister’s wedding after all.”

  “Oh?” He looked up as if not realizing she’d been talking to him. Then recognition dawned in his expression. “Oh, yes. Of course. I … I’m glad to. I talked to the groom about the power and he said the electric wasn’t hooked up yet, but they were working on it.”

  “Oh, good. I’m glad you got hold of him. I know this was awfully late notice. But I hope it won’t—” The buzzer on her desk rang and she held up a hand. She answered Trent’s call, glad he wasn’t making Lukas wait.

  When she hung up, Lukas was watching her, a question on his face.

  “You may go back now. You remember which office?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Without another word, he strode down the hallway.

  Jo felt oddly disappointed. And yet, she didn’t think the man’s aloof manner had been directed at her. He’d seemed … distressed about something, and in a hurry. But she had to admit that Trent’s clients rarely aroused her curiosity the way this man had. No doubt it had more to do with his good looks than with his reasons for needing Trent’s services. But she did wonder about how he’d come to be a DJ—and about his relationship with Maria Castillo.

  The phone rang, shaking her from her daydreaming. But twenty minutes later when she heard Trent’s office door open, she looked up to see an agitated Lukas rushing down the hall, his phone at his ear. She couldn’t help but overhear his end of the conversation.

  “I’m less than ten minutes away. It’ll be okay.”

  He stopped and listened for a moment, then slipped into the alcove outside the restrooms, lowering his voice. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have been there.”

  Joanna tried not to listen, but the anguish in his tone compelled her. Was he talking to Maria Castillo?

  “Shh … Shh … Listen to me. Stop! Listen.” He lowered his voice. “Just wait until I get there, okay, buddy?”

  Silence for another minute while he apparently listened. Then speaking as he walked. “Just stay there. I’m on my way right now. You stay right there, buddy. It’s going to be okay.” Not even looking in Jo’s direction, he pushed the elevator button.

  It opened almost immediately. He stepped in and jabbed at the panel on the wall, still speaking in a consoling tone. But now Joanna imagined it was a child he was speaking to. Maybe the son Maria Castillo had been so concerned about that day she’d caused such a stir? But as the doors closed, Jo stole another glance. And she could have sworn the poor man was weeping.

  The elevator dinged and the phone on Joanna’s desk rang simultaneously. Her breath caught.

  For some reason, she felt paralyzed, almost the way she had that day with Maria.

  Composing herself, she answered the call and transferred it to Cinda’s office, operating on auto-pilot. She wasn’t sure why she felt so invested in whatever was happening in this Lukas Blaine’s life. But the way he’d spoken to the person on the other end of the phone had instantly endeared him to her.

  She’d never wanted so badly to ask Trent about a client’s circumstances. But she couldn’t explain to herself, let alone to her boss, why she was so mesmerized by this man.

  An elderly couple stepped off the elevator and shuffled toward the desk. She recognized them from previous visits, but had forgotten their names. She scrolled through the appointment calendar on her desktop before greeting the couple. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont. Mr. Pritchert will be with you in just a moment. May I offer you some coffee or a glass of water?”

  They waved off her offer and the gentleman proceeded to engage her in a long story … something about his brother and the farm their father had owned. She listened half-heartedly, nodding and smiling in what she hoped were appropriate places. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Lukas. Or Luke, as he’d introduced himself on the phone last week.

  She found herself praying that everything was okay with him. And suddenly it wasn’t only because she needed him for Phee’s wedding. Her heart went out to him. Having so recently lost her mother, she thought she’d recognized the pain of grief on his face. And whoever he’d been talking to on the phone, he loved deeply.

  Once the elderly couple took their seats to wait for Trent, Joanna opened the browser on her computer and, on impulse, entered Luke’s name. The website for MO-DJ where she’d first found his information popped up first in the search along with a website for a radio station in Langhorne, which listed him as a contact for advertising. There were several people with his name on Facebook, but none of them were him. The fact that he apparently kept a low profile on social media only served to make Jo more curious about him. And mildly cautious.

  She started to click on a second page of search results, but stopped herself and closed the browser. “Good grief. Get a life, Joanna Chandler.” She whispered the words louder than she intended and quickly checked the waiting room to be sure no one had heard.

  But only the older couple was there, and they were engrossed in quiet conversation with each other. Jo watched them, touched by their gentle way with each other. Would she ever have someone who would love her for a lifetime, in sickness and in health, till death parted them?

  Trent buzzed her, ready to see the Beaumonts. She walked the sweet couple back to his office, then came back to her desk, determined to keep her mind focused on work. No matter how much her thoughts kept straying to Luke Blaine.

  Luke half expected to find an ambulance waiting at Maria’s apartment, but everything looked as it had when he’d left. He didn’t bother knocking but went straight in the front door.

  Mateo flew off the couch and into his arms. “She died, Luke! She died!”

  Luke swallowed hard, willing his voice to remain steady. “I know, buddy. I know. I’m so sorry.”

  The house was deathly silent, and he looked over his shoulder back toward the bedroom, wondering why they’d left Mateo alone. And whether they’d already come to take Maria away … take her body. He could not make the words be real. And if he couldn’t, what must Mateo be feeling right now?

  He heard muffled movements from the bedroom, and then a shadow fell across the hallway as someone opened the door.

  The hospice nurse—Megan—walked down the hallway wearing a soft smile meant, Luke supposed, to convey sympathy. “I’m so sorry. Did Mateo tell you?”

  “Yes. When did it happen?”

  “Just a few minutes ago,” she said softly, then glanced at her watch. “One forty-seven.”

  Luke closed his eyes and tightened his grip on Mateo. If only he’d canceled the appointment and stayed just a while longer. Not even an hour. Over Mateo’s head, he mouthed to the nurse, “Was he with her?”

  She nodded. “It was very peaceful. She just … fell asleep. Mateo was so brave. He was right there with her, praying her home.”

  The thought of Mateo praying for his mother as she left this earth was almost more than Luke could bear. As was recalling what Maria had said to him in their last few moments together, just the two of them. Swallowing hard, he moved his hands to the boy’s shoulders and knelt to meet those dark, now-glassy eyes. “I’m so proud of you, buddy. I know your mama was proud too.”

  He shook his head and scrunched his face up, weeping silently.

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here with you.”

  The nurse’s phone vibrated and she read a message, then gave Luke a knowing look. “You two might want to go for a drive for a little while.”

  Almost panicked, not wanting Mateo to see them take his mother’s body out, Luke told the nurse, “We’ll hang out at my place for a while. I’ll give you a call later.”

/>   “Do you want me to stay with Mateo for a minute? So you can go back and … see her?” She motioned over her shoulder to the room where Maria lay.

  But Luke had no desire to see her cold and lifeless. “I think we’ll just go. Mateo’s going to stay with me tonight. We’ll come back and get some clothes and things later.”

  He wished he’d thought to have Mateo pack an overnight bag before he left for the attorney’s office. He dreaded coming back here later. But he hadn’t expected Maria to die while he was gone. Not yet. It still seemed unbelievable.

  But even more unbelievable, he was now officially Mateo’s guardian. Maria had asked him when she first got sick. And he agreed, never dreaming that her illness might be terminal. Never thinking he’d actually bear the sole responsibility for this boy who was at least six years from being grown and on his own.

  But this morning, although she’d never made anything legal, she had begged Luke—made him promise he wouldn’t let Mateo go into foster care. The scrap of paper in his pocket weighed heavily. Maria had written it in her own trembling hand, signing in front of the hospice nurse. It had ostensibly been made legal in the attorney’s office not even an hour ago. A simple sheaf of paper that might bind him to this boy for the rest of Mateo’s childhood.

  And he did love Mateo. He knew nothing about being a father, knew nothing of that kind of love, except what he’d received from his own father. But being on the receiving end of his father’s love had been sufficient to make his heart well with emotion for this twelve-year-old who reminded him so much of himself at the same age.

  Luke had loved Maria too. As a friend. As Mateo’s mother. Judging by the weight of his heart right now, those things had bonded him to Maria more than he’d acknowledged. And while this thing he’d committed to in the presence of a witness seemed unfathomable, neither could he imagine letting Mateo be taken away by strangers. Especially when the boy had lost the only person in his world who loved him enough to comfort him.