“Bl—” Krista whispered, her hand reaching out to his departing form. Come back. He didn’t hear her. She hadn’t expected him to.
Bereft of Blake’s comforting presence, Krista wrapped her arms about herself. It wasn’t cold in the waiting room; the heater blasted, but she shivered nonetheless. The coffee wouldn’t have helped, either. She wasn’t allowed to drink it, not if she was going to give blood later. When she’d donated before, Krista was told that caffeine was a diuretic and could cause dehydration.
She snuck a peek at Blake’s parents, their heads close together, talking to their friend. They looked like a unit, a family.
It’s good I’m donating blood, otherwise I might as well have just stayed at the hotel. A wave of homesickness crashed into her. She took out her phone to check the current time in the Philippines. Five in the afternoon. Her parents would still be at their café, busy serving travelers who were on their way to the province of Quezon for the Christmas holidays.
“Nope, not the best timing,” she muttered to herself.
What would she tell them anyway? That she had the same blood type as an American? A US Air Force veteran who had spent time in the Philippines during the late eighties, but not necessarily at Clark? There were probably hundreds, even thousands, who could answer to the same description.
What did he even look like? He could be a redhead, or he could be black. Easy enough to check. Krista pressed her index finger to the home button on her phone. It lit up with a text message telling her she had connected to a US network.
Of its own volition it seemed, her finger tapped the search engine. Over the tab “Images,” she typed “Jack O’Connor, Ryan O’Connor Pub and Restaurant.” She shut her eyes before the photos flashed on-screen.
“Taking a nap?”
Krista wasn’t sure which moved faster, her hand to throw the phone into her purse, or her eyes as they snapped open to behold the oldest Ryan. She had been so engrossed in her task, she hadn’t noticed him move to sit beside her.
“Uhm, just resting my eyes,” she said. Truth be told, she’d welcome the chance to close her eyes for ten more hours.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you were.” Sean shifted in his seat, his bulk nearly occupying two of the plastic chairs. “Even though it’s been four years since we traveled to the Philippines, I still remember the jetlag that hit me afterwards. Giulia told me my snores rivaled the sirens on the streets. How she heard that, I’ll never know. She was as deeply asleep as I was.”
His grin was so contagious, Krista couldn’t help but return it with a wide smile of her own. “Where did Blake take you when you went? How long did you stay? Was that your first time there?”
The feeling of desolation left her, replaced by a burst of love for Blake’s parents. So deep was her gratitude, she had to hide her hands in her coat pockets to stop herself from throwing her arms around Blake’s father and declaring her everlasting love.
Sean threw back his head and boomed out a guffaw. Krista wanted to shush him, but a quick look around the room told her no one was paying attention or taking offense.
“Young lady, you’re delightful. We went to Makati and toured the walled city in Manila—Intramuros, I think is what you call it?” At her nod, he continued. “Then, we went to Boracay. Blake didn’t have his resort yet, but we saw the potential. White Beach was fine for the young ones, but for old coots like me, nope.” He thumped his chest with a meaty fist, so heavily that it would have felled a smaller person; it barely moved him at all.
“Who are you calling old? Not me, I hope.” From her perch beside Belen, Giulia teased her husband.
“Not you, mo chroi. You’re forever young.” Sean blew his wife a kiss, making her giggle, shedding years off her face.
My heart. Krista smiled at the Irish endearment. One of her favorite romance authors came from Ireland and often used such terms in her books.
“We also went to Zambales and Pampanga. To Mount Pinatubo and the former US bases there: Subic and Clark. Jack talked often about his assignment there; we had to see for ourselves.”
Krista’s eyes rounded. Her heart thumped in her throat. “Mr. O’Connor was based in Clark? When?” she croaked out.
“Mid-to-late eighties, until it closed in ninety-one. He was assigned briefly to Saudi Arabia during the first Gulf War, but Belen and the boys stayed in the Philippines. Why do you ask?” Sean inquired gently.
“Uhm. I was born in Pampanga. My parents used to live in Angeles City, a few miles outside the base.” She could barely get the words out. Her mouth was dry.
“Ah. It never ceases to amaze me how small the world is. We’re fortunate to have the opportunities we’ve had to travel and explore places we’ve never been before. With the boys choosing to live in Southeast Asia, I think we’ll have more chances to see your beautiful region.”
Krista nodded, relieved that Sean hadn’t pursued the opening she provided to probe more into her family history. Her mind and heart warred over what to do with all the coincidences that kept popping up.
She snuck a glance towards Belen O’Connor. She’d called her husband “John.” Wasn’t that the convention here in the US? Like President Kennedy. Wasn’t his real name John, but everybody called him Jack? As if sensing Krista’s scrutiny, the older woman threw a resentful glare at her before turning her face away.
She hates me. How disappointing. She had held the older woman in high regard, even before they’d met. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be between them. She and Belen should have been great friends. Instead, they weren’t even talking. Blake’s honorary aunt couldn’t even bring herself to look Krista in the eye.
If Krista wanted to confirm her ever-increasing suspicions regarding Jack O’Connor, no support would be forthcoming from that corner. She had to do it alone. Not totally, of course. Blake would help. In fact, he had already started.
Even if Jack turned out to be a total stranger, Krista felt justified in giving her blood to him. She would have done it for any one of her friends’ loved ones. She would do it for Blake and those he considered family.
“Krista, sweetie, it’s kind of you to come and offer support. Isn’t that right, Belen?” Giulia’s not-so-subtle inquiry held mild rebuke.
The response was begrudgingly polite. “Yes, thank you, Krista.”
“Please don’t mention it, Mrs. O’Connor. You and your husband are important to Blake, and now to me as well.”
Giulia waved a hand in the air. “What’s all this formality then? You must call them Tita Belen and Uncle Jack, like all my kids do.”
No wonder Blake feared his mother. Krista had never met a more decisive woman. Obviously, her boyfriend had inherited his managing ways from her. Aidan, too. They must have learned from the cradle.
“That’s fine with me,” Belen agreed, then stood abruptly. “Excuse me. I’ll check on John.” Without waiting for a response, she left the three of them gaping at her.
Giulia turned to Krista, her brows knotted in puzzlement. “She’s distraught. Belen is usually ...” She trailed off, giving a helpless shrug.
Krista understood. Anything Giulia added would only magnify Belen’s rude behavior towards her. For a second, Krista considered being petty by remaining silent and letting Giulia think poorly of her friend. But that would shame her mother and all that she’d taught her daughter.
She moved to sit beside Blake’s mother. Touching Giulia’s hand, she said, “I understand. It’s a challenging time for her. And I’m still very much a stranger.”
Giulia quickly denied the assertion. “You’re already one of us, sweetie.” She patted her hands. “I’ve never seen my son happier. And that’s because of you.”
Krista beamed at the statement. “Blake has been good for me as well. He’s taken me out of my shell, encouraged me to experience new things.”
She’d undergone a transformation in Boracay, both in the physical sense and in mindset. Her friends might have given her the initial push with their attempts at a makeover, but it had ultimately been Krista’s decision to take chances and live her life to the fullest. Blake’s love for her had boosted the ever-growing confidence she had in herself.
“Speaking of whom, where is the darling boy?”
Sean answered. “He said he’d check the blood donation process. He should be back soon.”
Krista turned in the direction she’d last seen Blake. Sure enough, he was approaching from the area marked “Blood Bank.” He wore a scowl, a rare sight these days.
“What’s wrong?” Krista asked when he slumped beside her.
“They’re not open until eight. The service desk was empty, and nobody knew anything about options other than wait,” he replied, brusque. “We have to sit on our asses while Uncle Jack fights for his life.” His hand clenched.
Krista eyed the wall clock. Quarter to five. Her body craved sleep, but she was needed here. And she wanted to know more about Jack O’Connor. She had a feeling he’d lead her to her biological father.
Her gaze shifted to Blake’s parents. Giulia’s head nestled on Sean’s shoulder. So sweet. They looked exhausted, though. Dark rings shadowed both sets of eyes, and both had skin that was pale and lined with worry. She turned to Blake, but he was already talking to his parents.
“Da, Ma, you should go home, get some rest. Krista and I will wait here for Aidan and Ronan, and keep Tita Belen company.” He held Krista’s hand. “We’ll help out at the pub tonight, is that okay with you, sweetheart?”
“Yes, of course.” Her smile encompassed all three Ryans.
Sean tipped his head in acknowledgment of the suggestion and stood, holding out his hand to assist his wife to her feet. Blake did the same for Krista.
“Give Belen a hug from us, and call us if there’s news, sweetie,” Giulia told her son after embracing them both. “Try to get some rest while you wait.” She looked around the room, at a woman retching by the trash can, and grimaced. After another gentle pat on Krista’s arm, she left with her husband.