The Crush (Oregon Wine Country #1)(56)

Hope vanished, and guilt, Manolo’s constant companion, filled the void. He steeled himself for a frosty reception.

“Who told you?” Dad growled in place of a greeting.

“Izzy. How’s Mom?”

Dad resumed his pacing. “They got a tube down her throat so she can breathe.”

“Is she—can she—?”

“Any luck, she can breathe on her own in a coupla days.”

Thank god. “Too bad it took a fall to convince her she needs a knee replacement.”

“You know about her knee?”

“I try to stay in touch.” Didn’t Dad know he called his mother once a week?

Manolo pictured his mother when he was growing up. “She’s always on her feet,” he mused, half to himself.

Dad stopped and barked, “You act like she works because I make her!”

“Where’d that come from? I never said that!”

“That’s why you left, isn’t it?”

“You think I’m afraid of hard work?”

A woman in scrubs passed, giving them a disapproving look.

His father lowered his head and walked on.

Manolo followed him. “Yes!” he spat when they were alone again. “You made me feel like being born into this family came with some kind of obligation!”

“Poor you.” His dad dismissed him with a wave of his arm. “The only son of a successful businessman, having a profitable business handed to you on a platter. But no. That wasn’t good enough. You had to go off to Timbuktu, to do who knows what.”

“I wanted my own life. I’ve tried explaining it till I’m blue in the face. What will it take to make you understand, to stop taking it personally? It’s nothing against you.”

“Easy to say, when you left me here with four women, one of who is now an invalid.”

It was like this every time he came home. His father was implacable.

Dad paused outside a door. “This is it. You goin’ in or what?”

*

It was another twenty-four hours before they took the tube out of his mother’s esophagus. Manolo timed his visit so that he could be alone with her.

She was dozing when he sat down next to her. He gazed down at her sleeping form. She was the only person who had never rejected him for pursuing his dreams, never withdrawn her affection. Izzy tolerated his impulses, but even Izzy had suffered as a result of his abandoning the family. Mom was the one constant in his life of continual change. Her love never wavered. Even in a hospital bed, barely able to breathe on her own, she was still the center of his universe.

Finally, her eyes flickered open. “Manolo.” Grinning, she took the hand he offered and kept hold of it. “I’m so happy to see your smiling face. Did you come just for me?”

She’d been so out of it yesterday, she didn’t even recall his being there. “Of course. I got here as soon as I could.”

“You know I cherish our phone calls,” she rasped, hoarse from the ventilator. “But it’s so good to see you in person. You look wonderful. You look—” She adjusted her vision. “Different. Like you’ve found whatever it is you’ve been looking for all these years.”

If she saw something in him, he owed it to her to pay attention. To discount it out of hand would be a violation of something sacred.

He tried to see himself in his mother’s eyes. And what he saw was a lonely man, still living the self-imposed life of a vagabond after all these years.

Mom patted his hand. “Stop punishing yourself, Manny. All you did was search for what would make you happy. Your father didn’t understand. But I knew you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. You deserve to be loved.” She closed her eyes, tired out by the effort of her speech.

Love? What’s love but a noose around your neck?

He hated to disturb his mom further, but who knew how much longer he would have her? There was something he had to ask.

“Mom.”

“Hmm?” Her eyes opened a crack.

“Why’d you do it? Sacrifice your whole life to Dad, to the restaurant?” In the end, all it had gotten her was this—lying in a hospital bed.

“Because I love him,” she said without hesitation. “It’s not a sacrifice when you’re in love.”

Of course. She’d gotten that love too—and a family he knew she loved with her every breath.

Everything in his life had been going as planned. He’d thought he could keep running from his feelings forever.

Then came Junie. It had started with her side porch, then escalated until he’d gladly spent half his summer and half his savings on her property. He’d chalked up his behavior to nothing more than his usual desire to be helpful, combined with common lust.

Soon, he’d be facing yet another major transition—an escape he’d carefully crafted. Why, this time, was he resisting running?

A very pregnant technician appeared in the doorway, rolling an awkward piece of equipment.

Automatically, Manolo jumped up to assist her, reality snapping him out of his sappy thoughts.

He was getting all cornball because his mom was hurting. The reason he was feeling so out of sorts lately was simple. He’d violated his own principles. Let his feelings for a West Coast farm woman build up until they spiraled dangerously out of control.