Page 34 of Thiago (Family Ties #6)

Chapter Thirty-Four

H er heart was racing.

India sat in her car, parked across the street from a little red brick house. She double-checked the address on her phone to make sure she was in the right place, though her GPS had brought her there.

She probably wouldn’t have ever come here if she were still working, but she had a lot of time on her hands nowadays, so she’d looked into finding her father instead of crying.

She’d never been one to cry much and had spent the past week making up for it.

The first few days after the argument with Thiago had been bad, but when her personal effects from work showed up in a box, another bout of sobbing had commenced.

At this point, she had cried enough to last ten lifetimes.

She stepped out of her car and smoothed a hand down her dark slacks and straightened the bow at the neckline of her blouse. She had dressed up a little, wanting to impress her father, but did her appearance matter if he didn’t want anything to do with her?

“You’re here. If it doesn’t work out, at least you can say you tried,” India said, giving herself a pep talk.

She looked both ways and then walked across the residential street. She climbed the stairs to the front porch and rang the doorbell.

She nervously waited until the door creaked open. A heavyset woman wearing a floral print muumuu peered at her through the storm door.

“Yes?”

India licked her suddenly dry lips.

“Is Karl here?”

“No, he’s not, baby. He’s at the store…” The woman’s voice trailed off as a frown took over her face. “Can I help you?”

She didn’t know who this woman was to her father and wasn’t sure how to respond. She glanced down the street, hoping he would appear so she wouldn’t have to have an awkward conversation with a complete stranger and explain she was Karl’s daughter—a daughter she probably knew nothing about.

“My name is India?—”

“Indy Monroe! I knew that was you! My name is Verna. I’m your daddy’s wife. We got married a few years back.” She pushed open the storm door and extended a hand.

India shook it, surprised. “Nice to meet you.”

“You got his whole face. Same cheekbones and everything. Would you like to come inside and wait?”

India had never felt so out of sorts and unsure of herself as she did in that moment. Should she go inside and wait or come back another time?

“He won’t be long,” Verna added, as if sensing her dilemma.

“Sure, I’d love to come inside.”

India entered the dim living room—dim because the curtains were drawn, shielding the interior from the brightness of the sun. Dark furniture, mostly brown and worn, filled the space. The pieces had obviously been there for years, the sweet scent of cigar smoke clinging to the fabric of the chairs.

India’s gaze swept the room. Except for a magazine askew on the leather recliner, the place was neat and tidy.

But there was no mistaking the pared-down life her father and his wife were living, and sadness filled her.

It was far removed from the life she lived but reminded her of growing up in her grandmother’s home.

“He talks about you all the time, you know.”

Verna’s voice pulled India from her thoughts, the words shocking her. “He does?”

His wife nodded. “Since we’ve known each other. He got a bunch of pictures of you. Let me show you.”

Her father had pictures of her?

Verna spun toward a built-in bookcase. As she searched the shelves, India’s gaze landed on a couple of drawings hanging on the wall.

“Did he draw those?” she asked, pointing.

“Mhmm. He always drawing something, chile. He has a bunch of paintings too, but he mostly draws now. He’s real talented, ain’t he? Do you do any artwork?”

“I draw a little. Charcoal, like those.”

While she was pleased to see her father hadn’t given up on his passion, she wondered how great he could have become if he’d been given the same opportunities as other artists.

Verna removed a photo album from one of the shelves. Moving to the sofa, she sat down and patted the spot beside her. India joined her, leaning closer to look at the first page.

“This was when you was first born,” Verna said, tapping a picture. “He said his momma wrapped you in that blanket.”

They spent the next fifteen minutes going through the photos, and there were plenty of them, many India had never seen before. All from when she was a little girl.

“Look at all that hair,” Verna said with a laugh.

In the photo, India was sitting between her mother’s legs while her mother braided her hair.

She smiled wryly. “I used to hate getting my hair braided.” She smoothed a hand over her short hair.

“You took care of that, didn’t you?” Verna said, eyeing her short cut.

“Yeah, I did,” India replied.

The front door opened, and Karl walked in. “Verna!”

India immediately stood, watching as he closed the door. He looked older than his fifty-one years. His dark skin was lined with wrinkles, and though he was a tall man, his stooped shoulders made him appear shorter.

“Well, hello,” he said when he saw her, wiping his feet on the mat inside the door. He rested a paper sack on the table near the door. “Didn’t know we had company. Howdy.”

India had a sudden, sinking feeling. He had referred to her as “company.” She was standing in his house, and he still didn’t recognize her. She swallowed back the pain and humiliation.

“Hello.” This had been a mistake.

“Karl, put on your damn glasses,” Verna said, setting the album down and standing.

“What do I need my glasses for?” Karl groused.

“To see!” Verna shot back. “I can't believe you got behind the wheel of that truck without your glasses on. He only wants to wear them when he’s watching TV or doing his art.” She shot India a look, as if to say, See what I have to deal with?

“I didn’t go far, and I know the way. Where are my glasses, anyway?” Karl asked.

“Over there on the table next to your chair. Hurry up and put them on so you can greet our guest.”

Karl let out a loud sigh, as if putting on his glasses was an unreasonable demand. He muttered something to himself as he shuffled over to the chair.

Verna rested one hand on her hip. “Hurry up,” she said.

“I’m hurrying. Damn, woman.” Karl settled the bifocals on his face. “Satisfied?”

He faced India. Then he blinked. He took a step closer and eyed her like a scientist discovering a new species of bug under a microscope.

“Indy?” he whispered in disbelief.

Relief, gratitude, and joy flooded through India. Was that why he hadn’t recognized her two years ago? Because he hadn’t been wearing the glasses he clearly desperately needed?

“Yeah, it’s me,” she whispered.

Karl’s mouth fell open. He looked at Verna as if needing confirmation. She gave a slight nod, and a smile overtook his face.

“Look at you. If I’da seen you in the street, I woulda walked right by you,” Karl said.

You did , India almost said.

“I don’t know how. She look just like you. Got your whole face,” Verna remarked.

Karl smiled, showing off his pearly white teeth. “Sure does. A prettier version. How you been?”

“Okay.”

“Why you here?”

“I wanted to see you. I thought maybe we could…” Emotion clogged her throat.

Her father nodded, clearly understanding the unfinished sentence.

“I would like that,” he said quietly. He cleared his throat. “Would you like some iced tea? Verna makes good iced tea.”

“I sure do. Everybody loves my tea.”

“I would love some,” India said.

“Be right back.”

Verna hurried out of the room, leaving them alone.

“Would you like to sit down? That couch ain’t pretty, but it’s comfortable.

No, you know what, you can have my chair,” Karl said, moving to the recliner and removing the magazine.

“Bought it brand new a couple of years ago. Christmas gift to myself. Here you go. You can sit right there.” He stood back, presenting the chair to her with an extended hand, like a model during a game show.

India didn’t move, though. She couldn’t take her eyes off her father. She was in the same room with him for the first time in forever. She didn’t feel any of the anger and disappointment she had expected to experience. Instead, overwhelming happiness filled every cell.

“Can I hug you?” Her voice quivered.

His face softened into a smile. “You can hug me for as long as you want.”

India moved immediately into his warm embrace and lay her head on his shoulder. He rubbed her back as he held her, and tears welled in her eyes.

Verna came out of the kitchen with three glasses of tea on a tray. A smile of approval touched her lips as she watched father and daughter cling to each other.

Considering her recent breakup with Thiago, India was relieved to experience a moment of true happiness.

She didn’t have to report to her job in Miami for another month, and she would spend every moment she could with her father, getting to know him and letting him get to know her.

This new relationship would soften the blow of losing Thiago, and in time—hopefully—thoughts of him would no longer make her heart ache.