by Leanna Ellis
Oliver glanced at the windowsill again and nodded without trace of a smile.
Drew considered the impromptu meeting over. But the kid didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave. Needing to get back to work, Drew opened the file folder again. But Oliver didn’t take the hint. So after a moment or two Drew slapped the folder closed. “How’d you get over here? Hitch a ride? Drive?”
If so, that would be illegal since the kid didn’t have a driver’s license yet.
“Walked.”
“That’s a ways. Come on, I’ll take you to your grandma’s.” Drew reached for his hat and felt the kid’s keen gaze watching him.
“Are you after my mother?”
The question stopped Drew in his tracks like a pulled gun. “What are you talking about?”
28
Suzanne
The back door opens. Mike peers inside the kitchen but doesn’t step in. He looks from Mother, who is turning the bacon on the stove, to Cal Henry, who is drinking coffee at the kitchen table, then locks gazes with me.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
“Mike,” Mother waves him inside, “you’re just in time for breakfast.”
“Suz,” he ignores her and remains in the doorway, “hand me that apron over there.”
I take Mother’s apron off the peg on the wall and hand it to him. “What is—” The man—the naked man—standing behind Mike catches me off guard. “Oh, uh …”
Mike pushes the door open wider. “Come on in. It’s okay.”
The tall, gaunt man, with head down and eyes downcast, steps inside my parents’ home. His bones push against his leathery, wrinkled skin. Mother’s apron is now wrapped around his waist.
“Mr. Peavy,” I say, catching Mike’s imploring gaze, “of course, come on in. Welcome. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen, um, since …” I scramble for more appropriate words. I can see a bit too much of Ned Peavy at the moment. Luckily Mother’s apron hides most. In his hand he carries a faded yellow fly swatter.
“What in tarnation?” Mother asks, holding the tines of a fork upright like a pitchfork.
“Mother, Mr. Peavy’s going to have breakfast with us.” I feel Mike’s hands on my shoulders as he kisses my neck from behind. “Mike, why don’t you take Mr. Peavy back to Mother and Daddy’s room. Find some of Daddy’s clothes …”
He nods and leads Ned in the right direction. I turn in time—before I’m confronted with Mr. Peavy’s back side—and watch Mother’s consternation turn to downright shock. Her eyes widen, followed by her mouth pinching tight.
“Should I scramble some more eggs, Mother?”
“Cal?” Mother’s voice trembles.
“Looks like that man could use a hot meal.” Cal Henry folds the paper.
By the time we’re all seated at the kitchen table, Ned Peavy, wearing Daddy’s chambray shirt and jeans, Mother wearing a perturbed expression, Cal Henry has loaded his plate with toast, bacon, and eggs. Oliver still isn’t back from his walk, but I’m not concerned. Not yet anyway. You might not be able to lead a teenage boy anywhere, but he will come when he’s hungry. With Mike sitting next to me, I hear the crunch of gravel outside as a car pulls up the driveway. I recognize the sound of the squeaky door closing.
Mother freezes as she reaches to pass Mike the platter of buttered toast. “What on earth is he doing here?”
“I called him.” Mike takes two slices of toast. “Asked him to come over. Ned’s air conditioner is out. I thought Archie and I might figure out a way to fix it for him.”
Mother’s face is a collection of emotions, the lines expressing her irritation better than any words. It takes almost a full minute before her wrinkles smooth out and she appears at ease.
“How long you been having trouble with the air conditioner,” Cal Henry asks around a mouthful of bacon.
“Two, three year. Maybe more.”
“I bet I can help. Had experience working on my own.”
Mother glances at Cal, then at Daddy walking in the back door. She sets the platter on the table with a thunk and slumps back in her chair in defeat.
29
Drew
What are you talking about?” Drew asked Oliver again, a band of emotions tight about his chest.
“You’ve slept with my mom, right?” Oliver didn’t flinch from his question. He threw it out there like a solid punch.
“Look, Oliver, that kind of thing is none of—”
“Don’t tell me that!” There was a flicker of rage in the boys’ eyes. “You’ve slept with her. I’ve seen you over at my grandma’s house. Everybody’s talking about how you brought my mom home late. Early in the morning before my dad and I arrived. And again this morning. She snuck out while everybody was sleeping. Was it to meet up with you?”
“I don’t know what she was doing this morning, but she wasn’t with me. Your mom and I—” He stopped and redirected his thoughts. “I brought her home Saturday night along with her girlfriend Josie. They were out and had an accident. The car couldn’t be driven.” To say the least. “So I gave them a ride. It’s part of my job. So there wasn’t any thing sordid about it.”
“But you’ve dated my mom, right?”
“A long time ago. Long before you were born. Way back in high school.” Drew didn’t bother to mention the one time in California. It was inconsequential. And it wasn’t actually a date.
“But—”
“Look, Oliver, I like your mom just fine. But I’m not in love with her.” It was true. He was at one time. But not anymore.
He hadn’t been with Suzanne since that crazy night in California. He remembered her tears. He had wanted to comfort her, but he knew that only her husband’s arms could. He had made a serious error in judgment. Yes, he knew why he’d called her in the first place. Exactly what he wanted to happen had happened. Afterward he realized he had wanted more. More than a one-night stand. More than he had a right to. Because Suzanne’s heart belonged to her husband. He tried to call her after she left. In fact, he had called her again and again. Then one night a man answered. Her husband. Drew had hung up and left town for good.
What year was that? He realized then it was about sixteen … or fifteen … years ago. Sixteen, had to be. But could it—
He gave the kid a hard, close inspection. The kid was fifteen. Drew could look up his birth date in half a second if he wanted. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to probe this particular mystery any further.
30
Suzanne
Get in the car.” Mother holds her purse over her arm. Thinking she might be on the verge of running away from the tangled web she’s woven, I decide I better go with her. Having a first and second husband working together might be too much for any woman.
While the four men walk back over to Ned Peavy’s to work on his air conditioner, Mother and I get in my rental car. Slowly, carefully, I buckle the seat belt. “Where are we going?”
“I need panty hose.”
I pull out onto the highway. Mother tells me to slow down. “Mother, we’ll get run over by an eighteen-wheeler if I don’t—”
Sudden flickering lights in my rearview mirror have me braking instead of accelerating. Great. Now Mother will have something else to berate me for. I should have expected this. Frowning, I brake, pull to the shoulder of the road, and stop. The SUV pulls behind me, lights still flashing. I watch Drew walk toward my rental car, his pace slow, unhurried.
I clutch the steering wheel, glance at the dashboard clock.
He bends down, peers in the window. “Ladies.”
“Sheriff, I told Suzanne she was driving too fast. You know California drivers. You’ve heard how it is out there, with shootings and wrecks.”
“Suzanne, could you step out of the vehicle?” He ignores Mother’s ranting.
I scramble in my purse for my wallet. When I reach the back end of the car, I hold my driver’s license out to him.
He doesn’t take it. What’s the protocol for this? “What’s wron
g?”
Drew’s wearing sunglasses, and I can’t look into his eyes to try and read what he’s thinking or feeling. He stares down at the ground, then looks out at the highway and watches a semi rumble past. A truck hauling hay goes at a much slower pace. Then a herd of motorcycles zips along, heading toward Fredericksburg. Drew glances back over his shoulder, and my gaze follows. In the front seat of the SUV, there’s a dark outline of a passenger. Oliver.
“I’ve got your son.”
“The test results came back?” Panic inches along my spine. “Drew, I wish you would have called us first.”
“That’s not what this is about. The results are back. Your son is free and clear. He came into my office today to find out for himself.” Drew shifts and the heavy thick leather of his gun belt creaks. “I was bringing him home when I saw you.”
“Thanks.” But I notice Oliver isn’t getting out of the SUV. I don’t know what else Drew could want him for.
Finally, he takes off his sunglasses and squints against the sun’s rays. “Your son thinks I’m after you.”
“What?”
“I set him straight on that. He’s heard rumors that you and I were involved, and he put two and two together. I brought you home late that first night you were back. You snuck out of the house early this morning. He assumed it was to meet me.”
“Rumors,” I spit out the word. Remembering the rumor Mother told me about Mike, I glance behind me at Mother sitting in the passenger seat of the rental car. Her posture, as usual, is erect, a measuring stick of propriety. She’s pulled the visor down and is watching us in the mirror. “Drew, I went to see Josie this morning. You can call her and ask her.”
“It doesn’t matter to me who you went to see. I told him it wasn’t me. I’m not after you. You’re married. I have someone else in my life.”
“That’s great, Drew, but …” I’m not sure what the point of all of this is. Why did he pull me over to tell me this?
“I don’t want your son thinking anything improper is going on.”
“I don’t either.” And I don’t want him to know about our past either.
“But,” he pauses. His solid, unwavering gaze makes my insides squirm. “I need to know something. I need to ask you …”
I remain silent and wait for him to finish.
“It never really occurred to me.” He swallows, looks down. His hand rests on the butt of his gun. “I didn’t pay much attention when I first met Oliver. But … well, when he came in my office, started talking about all this … it made me think about … us. I checked his birth date. And the timing would have been right. Or wrong. Whichever way you want to look at it.”
I’m listening to his words. They strike against my eardrums and shatter into hard pellets that shoot through my mind, imbed in my soul. My heart begins pounding.
“Depending on your point of view.” A car streaks past us. Drew follows it with his eyes, then his gaze reverts back to me.
I can’t speak, can’t respond.
“Is he …”
My head feels like it’s swelling. My fear is realized and it pulses through me. I want to start walking and never stop. Maybe I could jump in the car and drive. Make a getaway. But I can’t. This is what I haven’t wanted to face. The same emotions coil inside me that once had me curling into a ball and sobbing on my bed.
“Is Oliver my son?”
31
Drew
Drew had made a fatal error. Knowing Suzanne’s mother, he wouldn’t be surprised if, mother-like-daughter, Suzanne jumped in her car and ran him down. What was he thinking asking such a thing? It was probably a foolish thought. Maybe he was a fool for seeing some part of himself in the kid.
Prepared for a verbal assault, maybe even a slap across the face, Drew wondered if it was too late to take back his reckless words. “Suzanne—”
She looked at him then. Tears ran down her face, washed over him with the truth, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. She turned away from him then. For a moment she leaned on the trunk of the car. Her shoulders shook as silent sobs destroyed her usual composure.
What had he uncovered? He wiped the sweat off his brow, cursed, then said a hasty prayer. He didn’t want to see what was obvious. He wanted to take a step back into time, forget all this, walk away. But he couldn’t. Still, he wasn’t sure what to do. He glanced back at his SUV, then saw an eighteen-wheeler approaching. The wake of air nearly took his hat. Slowly he edged toward Suzanne like she was a wounded animal. He reached toward her, touched her shoulder.
“I–I never t–told.” She shook her head as the words poured out. “I never wanted Mike to know. To suspect. To question. And he hasn’t. He hasn’t. I thought I was the only one who saw the resemblance. But then we came here. A–and first Josie noticed. Then my mother said she’s known for a long time. Now … you.” She covered her face with her hands. “All I ever wanted …”
All she had ever wanted? What about what he wanted? He had wanted Suzanne. A long time ago. It was a selfish kind of want. A selfish need. But he’d never wanted a kid. He would be a lousy parent. And the world didn’t need another messed-up kid. But now … he had a son.
The thought astounded, overwhelmed, staggered him. A son.
But there was more to think about than what he wanted. So many lives were tangled up in this. So many could be strangled with the news. Most of all, Suzanne. She had been holding this in, hiding this for so long. For fifteen years.
“What?” Drew asked. “What did you want?”
“A family. A family like I never had.” She looked at Drew with waterlogged eyes. “And now I’ve destroyed even that.”
He didn’t care if Oliver was watching from the SUV or Mrs. Davidson from the rental car. Gently he pulled Suzanne toward him, wrapped his arms around her and held her. Her body was stiff, unresponsive, as if she was steeling herself. She didn’t belong to Drew. She never had. She needed someone else’s arms, someone else’s comfort. But would this revelation destroy her marriage?
Drew released a slow breath along with Suzanne.
Now what were they going to do?
32
Suzanne
So what is it? What’s wrong?” Mother asks when I finally climb back into the car.
“Nothing,” I manage even though I feel like I’m chewing glass. I curl my fingers around the steering wheel, grip it hard, then I reach for the ignition. The engine squeals.
“The car’s on, Suzanne.”
I realize that. My nerves are shredded. “Okay. Okay.” I’m talking to myself, not Mother. “It’s okay.”
“What did Drew say to you? Did Oliver’s test come back?
I glance in the rearview mirror, watch Oliver walk toward my rental car.
“He’s being arrested isn’t he? He’s going to jail. Well, I knew it. You are far too permissible with that boy. And now, this is going to ruin his life. Oh, boy, we’re going to have to read about this in the paper and hear folks—”
“Enough!” I glare at her. “Stop it, Mother. This is not about you. And Oliver is innocent.”
The back door of the rental car opens and Oliver slides inside.
“Well, where have you been?” Mother asks. “You missed breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You sick?”
“No.”
My gaze meets my son’s in the rearview mirror. No words pass between us. His eyes are flat—not angry, not anything, just flat.
“Well, are we going? Or are we going to pick up anyone else on the road?”
I pull out onto the highway. A car whizzes past my left and makes me flinch. I inch the car over into the next lane, pull into the medium, and make a U-turn.
“Well, that will certainly get you a ticket.”
I ignore her.
“Where are you going?” she continues. “The pharmacy is the other direction. I need panty hose.”
I make the turns and am soon driving too quickly up the gravel drive toward Mo
ther’s house. “I’ll go to the store for you, Mother.”
“But you don’t know what I want.”
“Hose,” I say, squeezing the steering wheel as if drawing strength from it. I’m well aware of Oliver’s silence expanding in the back seat like a sponge filling with water. “Black, right?”
“Well,” she huffs, her hand lingering on the door. “I don’t want a reinforced toe.”
“All right.”
“Control top.” She finally opens the door.
“Got it.” My mind feels heavy, unable to process the last few minutes. I need to be alone. I need … I don’t know what.
Mother slowly gets out of the car but then pauses again. “Size A, you know.”
The back door opens, and Oliver steps out. I roll down the window, reach my arm out toward him. “Oliver.”
He stops and looks at me. Just out of my reach. Have I lost him already?
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to go with me to the store?”
“No.”
I swallow the emotions that are lodged in my throat.
“Okay. Can we talk later?”
He nods but doesn’t say anything, just walks off toward the garage, taking my heart with him.
* * *
I KNOCK ON the door once.
“Who is it?”
“Suzanne.” I hear the rattle of the chain, then the door opens. Without preamble, I walk into the hotel room. “Daddy, I need to talk.”
“What is it, Sugar Beet?” He closes the door as I sit on the end of the bed.
“I’ve been driving around for hours, trying to think, trying to figure out what to do.”
He drags a desk chair over and sits in front of me. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and takes my hands. “Suzy, your mother is not easy to—”
