No Fault of Mine

Chapter Seventeen

I don't know if I can trust him either," I said, "but I don't know that I can't."

"I don't get it," she said. "Any sane man would be running away from you, not to you. A drive-by shooting? My goodness."

"Thanks for pointing that out," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe he's just a nice guy, helping a girl out."

"Yeah, sure, like that's the real world," she said with equal sarcasm. "Listen, I'm not trying to exchange barbs. I'm just concerned about you. That's why I'm raising these questions."

"Yeah, I appreciate that; really, I do. After all, you're my sister. You're supposed to question everything."

Pia laughed.

My cell chirped. Stan had texted that he had just arrived.

"Here's your chance to meet him," I said, raising my eyebrows. I stood and held out my hand. Pia took it, and I pulled her up. I continued holding her hand and said, "You know I love you, right."

"Yeah, sure. I'm your sister; you don't have a choice." She pulled me into her arms and held me tight. "I could've lost you twice in one week, Mia. I couldn't live with that loss."

I kiss her on the cheek.

Pia relaxed her embrace and said, "Let's get to work, Sis."

Stan was standing beside the open passenger-side door. As soon as he saw us step onto the sidewalk, he came in our direction.

"I certainly see a resemblance," he said, extending his hand to Pia.

"A compliment, thanks," Pia said and shook his hand. "So, your Stan Hunter."

"Guilty," he said. "And you're Pia, Mia's sister?"

"I am," Pia said. She paused, took a step back, and swept him with her eyes. A slight nod of her head completed the routine. I'd seen her use this power move effectively in the past. "Mia is the heart of the family," she said, not taking her eyes off of him.

I stepped to the side, thinking it was an interesting and maybe humiliating move to talk about vulnerability. I wondered where she was headed.

"Her heart is what has gotten my attention," he said with his genuine smile. "If she's the heart of the family, what's your role?"

"I'm glad you asked, Stan," Pia said.

"I'll answer that question," I said. "My sister is the watcher and healer. She knows me better than I do and has a way of getting through my emotional barriers, discerning my heartache, and applying the healing touch. I was in crisis, and that's why I came here."

"You're a fortunate family," he said. "My brother and I are close, but I think my involvement with my brother and his wife is more an opportunity to enjoy being the uncle of two lively nephews."

"Stan is divorced and doesn't have children," I said to Pia, while watching Stan's reaction.

"Yes," he said. "I've been denied the joy of children, but I have my hopes. I just haven't found the right woman, but I'm still looking." His eyes shifted to mine. I felt a shock knife through my body, and sure my body show my shock. I didn't know that about him, and the fact that he revealed this side of him here with my sister present confused me.

"Hey, this is way too personal," I said, feeling moisture on my palms. The direction of the conversation made me uncomfortable. Gesh, I wasn't close to thinking of matrimony and children at this point. I hadn't even decided I wanted further contact with Stan. I said, "And I'm hungry," in an effort to change the subject. It didn't work.

"There was something about you, a woman determined to drive through the night with her son after nearly being driven off the road, that got my attention." His eyes bore into me as if searching for something. "I had the impression that you weren't going to let a smashed brake light stop you."

I sat silently as Stan drove into downtown Vancouver. He'd tried to get a conversation going but eventually gave up when my answers were monosyllabic. Pia had opened a door I'd kept locked. My interest in Stan was whether he was who he claim to be. At least, that's what I told myself. I acknowledged to my sister that I had feelings for him, but my questions and the anxiety my emotions engendered were stronger than my romantic feelings. My feelings of vulnerability was the lock on the door.

The wonderful smell of Italian spices greeted us as we walked into a small waiting area. A greeter welcomed us and walked us to a small table along the far wall. The tables were covered with checkered tablecloths, and a small vase of flowers and a three-wicked candle decorated the tables. The interior was built of whitewashed stone, and artwork hung from the ceiling along the walls.

Stan pulled the chair out for me, and we sat across from each other. A waiter came by with a menu and took our drink order: coffee for me and sweet tea for Stan.

After the waiter retreated, I opened the menu but noticed Stan looking at me. I looked up, our eyes met, and I saw color spread on his neck.

"Whew! I think it's warm in here," he said and smiled. "Or is it that you look hot in that dress?"

I laughed, not the polite coy laugh, but something a little more raucous. "I'm sorry," I said after I suppressed the laugh as best as I could. "My brain likes puns, and I think yours was unintentional, which made it all the more humorous."

"I didn't mean it as a pun," he said, "but I can see the humor in that point of view."

"Thank you for the compliment," I said. "It's not that I had a lot of choice. It's the only dress I packed.

"Well, it's serendipity then," he said.

I took a breath and looked away. "It was also serendipity that I met you on that awful night. I'm indebted for what you did for me and my son. I don't understand it, but I'm grateful."

"What is there to understand?"

I could feel his eyes bore into me. As hard as it was, I forced myself to meet his eyes and say, "You...I'm trying to understand you. Are you just satisfying your curiosity today?"

"Of course, I'm curious about you. I haven't met many women running from something so sinister. Nor have I been with a woman who was the subject of a drive-by shooting."

"As much as I enjoy our conversations, Stan, I'm quite occupied with the murder of my husband, embezzlement at our company, being on the short list of likely criminals responsible, helping my son through what is the greatest loss of his life, and hiding from people trying to kill me. Plus I have a administration office to run, a brother who doubts my honesty, and a broken car." My tirade ended in silent tears. I took my napkin and wiped under my eyes. I dropped my hands to the table, still holding the cloth napkin. Stan reached across the table and put his hand over mine.

"I'm more than curious," he said. "I'm interested in you...in you, Mia."