C.A.K.E novel Chapter 17

"Mum . . .Dad." Casper breezes into his parents' home and shuts the door. Grinning from ear to ear, he makes his way into the front sitting area. "Where are you guys?"

"In here, Casper." Leonora's voice calls to her son.

Casper follows his mother's melodic tone toward the kitchen. The smell of her famous peach cobbler has him almost skipping into the room. "Smells good in here," he says rubbing his hands together.

"It should," Leonora says, smiling at him. "I've been baking all day for you."

He smiles, surveying the fruits of her labor. Leonora has certainly made the kitchen her second area of expertise. Anything prepared by her hands is nothing short of a culinary masterpiece. Years of medical training as a pediatrician have gifted her with an amazing amount of precision and finesse.

When his parents decided to close their pediatric practice and retire eight years ago, they spent the first couple of weeks sleeping in and watching Jeopardy. Then Manali gave birth to Jillian a month later and provided the two a whole other purpose in life.

So they inserted themselves into the upbringing of Jillian and Sophia with all the subtlety of a bulldozer. But Ali would never dream of objecting to the intrusion. The way Leonora and Charles dote on Jillie and Sophie, it's a wonder the girls aren't complete spoiled brats.

On days when they weren't fawning over their grandchildren, they struggled to find a proper hobby to fill their new surplus of leisure time. After much trial and error, and an unfortunate brief foray into ballroom dancing, Charles settled on golf and Leonora became Julia Child.

Casper couldn't be more thankful that her chosen arena is the kitchen. There's always a cake or pie waiting for him when he visits.

He gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Leonora accepts his silent thank-you with an enthusiasm that could rival the almost nauseating pep of a high school glee club.

She cuts him a piece of cobbler and tops it with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream. Still warm from the oven, the pastry begins to melt the soft serve into a delicious mess. Leonora grabs a spoon and feeds a bite of it to him.

"You're a goddess among women, Mum." Cash smiles and takes the spoon from her. He settles onto a barstool beside her and tucks into the dessert. "Still the best cobbler I've ever had."

Leonora leans over and kisses the side of his head, letting her touch linger on his temple. As she rubs his back, she watches him eat. "How is my sweet boy?"

"I'm good." A slight smile crosses his face. Having just stolen a kiss from the woman of his dreams, nothing can touch him today. He takes another bite of the second sweetest thing he's tasted in the last few hours. Arden drifts into his thoughts again, making the delight on his handsome features even more noticeable.

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" she asks, still making soft strokes along his back.

"I'm sure." Casper nods, remembering the feeling of Ardi's lips against his. He glances up at his mother. The worry on her face fails to recognize the sheer bliss written upon his. He gives up trying to convince her. "Where's Dad?"

"He's out." Her answer is rushed. She makes a very audible sigh and scoots into the seat next to him. Placing her hand on his arm, she gives it a gentle shake. "Casper, look at me please."

Without a second of hesitation, Casper puts down the spoonful of cobbler and cancels its one-way trip to his lips. He shifts in his seat to offer Leonora the full attention that she deserves. While he's looking into her green eyes, he finds something else hidden in their depths. He clears his throat and scratches at the back of his neck.

"What is it, Mum?" he asks, taking a deep breath.

"I talked to your brother this morning," Leonora speaks slowly like she's attempting to introduce her words into a pool of water without disturbing its calm surface. Still touching his arm in that quiet reassuring manner of hers, her face fades into a frown. "And he told me what happened between you two."

Casper groans and reaches for a napkin to tidy his hands, before pushing aside his dish. He gives his mother a tired smile. "So you didn't call me over here just for the cobbler."

"No, son. I didn't." She looks away from him and stares out of the window for a moment. Then she grasps his hand. "Why didn't you call me?"

"And say what?" Casper leaves his seat and turns his back to her. Running his hands over his hair, he glares at the vaulted ceiling. "This was between me and Cain. He never should have involved you."

Once again, Cain has chosen to take the bitch's way out and call their parents. They could have settled this like men without laying their problems on anyone else's doorstep.

"Casper this is a family problem." Leonora touches the cuff of his jacket and urges him to sit. When he does, she takes both his hands in hers. "And as painful as it might be, the only way we'll get through it is together."

He can't help laughing. "We can't just hug this one out, Mum. He ..." The absurdity of last night's revelation and subsequent altercation leaves him at a momentary loss for words. He scratches at his goatee while he searches for a respectful reply. "Things between Cain and me aren't going to be right for a very long time."

"I know that, honey." She gives his hand a gentle squeeze. "But ignoring each other isn't going to make things any easier. You need to discuss this like two calm, rational adults."

"All right." After a full minute of quiet seething inside his head, Cash sighs, and shrugs. "I'll call Cain in a couple days. I can't promise anything else."

They're both quiet for a few minutes before Leonora decides to speak again.

"There is no excuse for what Cain and Karma have done." She glances down at her hands and takes a deep breath. "But you have to understand your brother. He was an only child for twelve years before you came to live with us. He never quite adjusted to that change. And that's my fault."

"No, Mum. It isn't." Casper shakes his head. "Whatever Cain has become is a result of his own choosing."

"I made him resent you." Leonora strokes his cheek and gives him a weak smile. "When your father died ... and with Ophelia ..." Tears glisten in her emerald eyes. "I was so focused on making sure that you felt wanted, that I ..." She pauses to swipe at her cheeks, then meets his gaze again. "I could have done better ... by both of you."

Seeing her cry brings tears to his own eyes. He puts his arms around her, hugging her so tight that he might crush her. "You did everything you could for me. Cared for me like a son. I'll never be able to thank you enough for that."

It's true. Leonora has always treated Casper like her own. Some would even argue that she doted on him more than she did Cain. But both boys had the same advantages and the same benefit of Leonora and Charles' unflinching love and support. Every family tree has at least one bad apple. At some point, you have to stop blaming the roots for the wrongdoing of its fruit.

Just like Casper's success is his own. The implications of Cain's lack of conscience are a product of his own depravity, not their parents.

They continue to hang onto each other, both choking back the emotion that neither can find adequate words to express. Leonora kisses Casper's cheek, then pulls back to look into his eyes. Cradling his face in her hands, she sighs and shakes her head. A sad smile nudges at her full cheeks.

Cash glances down at the space between them. He's never been able to tolerate that look from her. The last time he saw it was at his wedding. That weak smile and the clouds in her eyes always make him think of the first woman to ever leave him. And even as a man in his mid-thirties, that wound still hasn't found the time to heal.

Before he can find his feet to run from the inevitable phrase that's waiting on her tongue, she utters the dreaded words. "Your mother would be so proud of you."

With one sentence, he's that seven-year-old boy standing beside his mother's casket with a single white rose in his hand. Your mother would be so proud of you. She would be. Not she is. The list of things that Ophelia will never be is long enough to fill countless pages a billion times over. Something new seems to add itself to the queue every single day.

The walls are closing in on him all of sudden. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, desperate to break free of its now suffocating clutches.

"I um ... I gotta go." An inexplicable pain cracks at his voice, stripping his deep tone of its usual easy confidence. He gives her a rushed kiss on the forehead and slips out of her grasp. "I love you. Call you tomorrow."

Leonora follows him, her feet working double-time to match his long strides. She tugs on the edge of his jacket. "Casper, wait."

He blinks several times, grinding his teeth into each other. The memory of his mother's body being lowered into a six-foot hole in the ground torments him as he tries to block the vivid imagery from his mind's eye.

Just as he's fighting with that painful bit of his past, another unwelcome recollection begins screaming for his attention. The unmistakable smell of bleach and human decay fills his nose. It's seven years after Ophelia's demise, and he's at his father's bedside. He remembers how helpless he felt watching the once invincible Frederick Buhari drift into death's cold grasp.

He reaches for the front door handle, trying to laugh through the tears that are beating against his eyelids. "I have some work ... to finish before tomorrow."

Leonora puts herself between him and the door and presses the stained glass fortress of oak closed again. "Sit with me for a minute ... please."

Giving no other acknowledgment of his acquiescence, he allows her to lead him into the living room. She takes a seat on the sofa and he joins her, choosing to sit with his elbows on his knees and his face half-buried in his palms.

She places her hand on his shoulder. "Sweetheart, do you remember her?"

The question strains at the fragile grip he has on the last thread of his composure. She's still with him. Everything about her is etched into his memory with an eery vibrancy, like light shining through the negative of a photograph.

Some details about her exist in x-ray, just bones without any substantial flesh. Details like her laugh, how she always smelled of vanilla and cinnamon, or the way it felt to cuddle up with her in that worn blanket and relax against the comforting rise and fall of her chest. He loved just being near her. Sometimes he forgets what that felt like. But her face will always be with him.

With skin like bittersweet cocoa and eyes like the sun, Ophelia was a sight to behold. Her features were rather ordinary. No one would have accused her of being the most gorgeous woman to ever walk the earth. Most of her beauty lay in the crooked smile that she didn't show off enough, or her innate ability to make complete strangers feel like they were old friends.

She was simply ambrosial as his father had once put it. Just when he felt those memories beginning to lose some of their glamour, another angel came along and breathed new life into them.

But fate is still playing her cruel jokes on him. Karma's for damn sure a bitch and she has a definite score to settle with Casper. So much so that she sent a petite package after her own name to blast a wrecking ball through his life. His wife and brother have plunged a knife so deep into his back that he'll never be able to extract the blade. Plus the one woman he wants and needs more than air bears another man's last name.

As sophomoric as it might sound, sometimes life just isn't fair. And no one knows that better than he does. He drags himself out of his thoughts and answers Leonora's earlier question.

"Like the back of my hand. Every smile. Every sight, sound, scent." Casper nods and fiddles with his fingers. "I remember ... all too well."

"It's okay to talk about her." She smooths her other hand over his hair. "It's okay to grieve for her ... and your father."

Bearing down into his skin until he leaves a faint mark on his chocolate complexion, he pinches the webbed bit of flesh between his index finger and thumb. He shed all the tears he ever planned to weep for his mother a long time ago. His grief is resting beside two headstones in a Brighton cemetery, left there by a young man too weary to carry its full burden to another country.

No, he doesn't cry for her anymore. And he never wept for his father. Life had cheated Frederick of his one true love. Death meant the end of suffering so great that it was difficult for him to take a breath every morning because of its crushing weight. Mr. Buhari was free. He would no longer languish behind the bars of the prison created by Ophelia's passing.

Casper still had a lifetime sentence to endure without his cellmate who made the pain of her absence bearable. He's been going it alone for years. Talking about their loss just makes pretending that he's okay even harder.

Bereavement for him is something that is best consolidated to a quiet corner of the mind and forgotten. Acknowledging the true depths of his ills scares him. There may be no coming back from that dark abyss. And right now, he can feel himself slipping in way too deep.

"Mum, I really don't want to have this conversation." He glances over at her, quiet desperation written on his face. "Not now."

Trying to stifle her own emotions, she nods at him. Neither of them utters another word on the matter. Even if they did have something further to say, it would be drowned out by the boisterous entrance of Charles and one of Casper's least favorite people at present.

"Nora?" Charles steps into the house, struggling to balance the bag of golf clubs that are slung over his shoulder. "We're back."

"I smell cobbler." Cain sits down his things and takes the heavy bag from his father. "Winner gets the first piece. Sorry, Pops." He nudges Charles' arm.

"You only won by one stroke." He smirks at Cain. "Beginner's luck is all. I'll wipe the links with you next time."

"Whatever you say, old man." Cain places his arm around his father's shoulders and proceeds to walk through the archway that connects the foyer to the living room.

The jovial banter of father and son comes to a screeching halt when they notice Nora and Casper on the sofa. Removing his arm from Charles' shoulder, Cain shoves his hands into the pockets of his khakis. He steps further into the room, regarding his brother with a smug smile. That ass-whooping last night must not have taken. Cash might need to administer a second dose.

Casper rises from the couch and stands a few feet in front of Cain. The air between the two becomes a charged minefield. One false move from either of the men and this whole house could blow.

Charles braves the gap and comes forward to embrace the other man who has become a source of immense pride for him. "Casper. It's good to see you, son."

"You too, Dad." Cash steps back and admires the older man's physique. "Looking good. Losing some weight?"

The compliment makes Charles chuckle, his gut moving in time with his deep chortle. "Not with the way your mother cooks."

Nora and Cash join his amusement, forgetting the tension that surrounds them for a brief moment. As the two continue their light back and forth, the heat radiating off Cain almost sets the room ablaze. Casper catches his glare and returns the look of animosity.

The laughter dies down and an uncomfortable silence takes up residence again. Charles and Nora stare at their children, unsure of how to defuse this powder keg. They've fought with each other on numerous occasions. But there was never any evidence of bad blood between them. At least there never was on Casper's end.

Deciding to set yet another example of his emotional maturity, Casper attempts to revive the dead air between them. "Cain."

The acknowledgment may not sound like much. But in a man's world, it's the equivalent of an olive branch.

Cain remains mute. He either doesn't recognize the invitation for amnesty, or he doesn't care. The latter is the more likely possibility of the two.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Charles regards his youngest with a mixture of frustration and disappointment. "Don't you have anything to say to your brother, Cain?"

The three of them wait for Cain to speak. Seeming to crack underneath the pressure of the stern stares of his parents, he recovers his willingness to piece together syllables.

"I'm sorry, Casper," Cain utters the words in a harsh whisper, glancing over at his father for a moment as he does.

"Let's not waste our breath stating the obvious," Cash says through gritted teeth.

Cain scoffs. He locks eyes with his brother and doesn't let his laser vision waver. "You didn't let me finish ... brother." Though it's midday and the room is awash in natural light streaming in from its bevy of windows, a shadow overtakes his face. A chilling grin accompanies the darkness. "I'm sorry ... that your wife preferred my dick to yours."

"Cain," Nora and Charles exclaim in tandem. They gape at him, seeming to be in complete disbelief at their son's crassness.

"Have you lost your mind speaking to your brother like that?" Charles asks. "And in front of your mother no less."

"No, Dad. It's okay ... I'm sorry, too ..." Casper steps forward and places a hand on his dad's shoulder. He nods at Cain, digging deep to make the remorse on his face seem genuine. "That I didn't shove my foot quite far enough up your ass."

The men advance toward each other, snarling like two rabid dogs. They maintain eye contact, neither one daring to look away first. At this moment, they're more alike than they realize. Both of them have the potential to let pride cloud their better judgment.

"All right, that is enough." Leonora steps into the middle of the fray and urges the boys away from each other. "I know I raised you two better than this. So start acting like you have some shred of home training."

Nora divides her infuriated gaze between Casper and Cain. The angered expression seems foreign on her otherwise docile features. She takes several shallow breaths as her elevated heart rate struggles to calm itself.

Seeing her upset like this makes Casper so embarrassed at his behavior that he can't meet her eyes. He apologizes to his parents and mutters a quick goodbye to them both before heading for the door. Paying no mind to the ignorant bastard who is burning a hole into the side of his head as he walks past, Cash makes his way out to his car.

Once inside the interior of his Bentley, he slips on a pair of aviators and allows his anger to take the empty seat next to him. He peels out of the driveway, ready to push his endgame into high gear. Cain better be ready for the ride.

He drives back to his office like an angry demon fresh out of hell. Forcing his usual smile with his colleagues as he stalks to his spacious corner of the office building, he decides to go ahead with the plan he concocted last night. Whatever shred of rationality he had left this morning, has been decimated by Cain's latest absurd demonstration of his jealousy for Casper.

Taking a seat at his desk, he sets about making a couple of calls. His first will be a conference call with Arthur Young and Matthew Dunn, the partners of the Young & Dunn advertising firm.

The same advertising firm that lists his brother, Cain Callaghan, as a senior ad executive. His company bio details Cain as a promising talent, and an invaluable contributor to the firm. It goes on to name him as the chief executive handling such accounts as, Nike, New Balance, Adidas, etcetera.

"Art, Matt. How are you, gentlemen?" Casper greets the two men who have become old friends over the years.

When Cash first began his career at Regent Financial, he handled a few personal accounts for the men. Arthur and Matthew became very fond of the young prodigy who devised a few clever accounting practices to keep the majority of their earnings out of the government's grasp. And on top of that, the entire operation was legal. Unethical perhaps ... But legal nonetheless.

"Buying our third vacation homes thanks to you." Arthur's voice booms loud and clear over the phone. He's a large presence even when he isn't in the room.

"Ilka and I are even looking into having a superyacht built next year. She can't wait to sail to Monaco," Matthew adds.