Page 98 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
Chapter Forty-Two
Iris
Monday morning, Tony sends me an MP3 of György Cziffra playing Liszt’s “Mazeppa” étude. I’ve always wanted to hear this particular performance, but never had a chance. I immediately start listening with a headset pressed tightly against my ears, a half-eaten granola bar and freshly brewed coffee abandoned on the kitchen island. Cziffra’s performance is divine. I sigh when the music ends. It’s too bad they didn’t have better recording technology back then.
I text Tony. Thanks for the music. I love it.
It made me think of you.
I pause at his response. Other than Grand Galop Chromatique, he only heard me play Debussy’s “Claire de lune” and Mozart. There’s no reason for Liszt’s “Mazeppa” étude to remind him of me.
Have lunch with me, Tony texts.
I tap the side of my phone, dithering. But I want to know why he kissed me on the forehead that way. And don’t I want to find out why it seemed so intimate?
I’ve dated a few times in the last six years, but none of the guys I spent time with made me feel the way Tony does. Is it because of my strong reaction to him the first time we met and the way he rescued me?
Whenever I’m with him, the hollowness in my heart seems to ease. I’m not sure why. If I knew him before the accident… But no. I couldn’t possibly have. Tony has never once indicated he knew me before.
But it’s also clear he’s been less than fully honest with me. His answer about what happened to Jamie was evasive. And there was Marty’s total freak-out. Last night, as I was jotting things down in my notebook, it struck me that Marty never flipped out like that before over someone I met or spent time with.
Whatever Marty knows, Sam does too. Marty’s a daddy’s boy. I want to discover what really freaked him out. I doubt it’s just Tony being disowned by his family.
My mind made up, I call Sam.
“Iris. I heard about Saturday. Are you all right?” he asks.
If he was that worried, he could’ve called to check up on me. As soon as the thought pops into my head, a tiny bit of guilt wriggles in my conscience, reminding me of everything Sam’s done. But more and more over the last two years or so, I can’t shake the uneasy feeling he isn’t being nice to me entirely out of altruism. I don’t know if it’s just from resentment that he seems to want to control me forever or the fact that I’ve never really sensed any genuine warmth from him.
“Didn’t Marty tell you?” I ask. I’d be amazed if he didn’t run to his daddy to complain.
“Only that Jamie Thornton groped you and you left early. I apologize for that. I didn’t realize he was that kind of man.”
“Me either,” I say, relieved and happy Sam’s reacting like a decent human being—unlike his son. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to handle the disappointment and anger otherwise.
“So. What can I do for you?”
He always says “what can I do for you” in that brisk, businesslike tone every time I call him. It’s as though he doesn’t want me to call him just because. Or maybe it’s his way of communicating that I shouldn’t be in touch unless I need something. That’s why I quit calling to say hello unless I had something else to discuss. Sam has never complained about it, though, so I guess he’s okay…even though I think it puts a distance into our relationship. Another reason I don’t sense genuine warmth from him and feel like he didn’t take care of me purely out of familial concern.
“I was wondering, did I know a man named Tony Blackwood before the accident?”
There’s such a long pause that I wonder if we got disconnected. I pull away and check the phone. Nope, still on the line.
“Sam?” I say.
He coughs once. “Sorry. Tony Blackwood?”
“I met him at the reception.”
“Ah. Right. He did come by.”
“So…?”
“You might have. I can’t say. He’s distantly related to us through marriage, but not to your side of the family. You might’ve seen him at some point when he came to visit me, but I doubt you were that close to him. Why?” His voice grows incisive. “Did he say something?”
The wait is pregnant with an anticipation I can feel even through the phone. The hair on the back of my neck stands. “No. Nothing like that.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “It’s just… I felt like I knew him.”
Sam laughs, but there’s a brittle undertone. “If you knew him that well, you wouldn’t have had to call me to ask. Your mind can be confused on details, Iris, but it still remembers all the important people in your life. As for your…curiosity about how you might’ve heard about Tony, he’s always been bright. His family and everyone around him had high expectations. His parents sent him to Europe for the best education they could afford, and later he graduated from Princeton in three years, top of his class.
