The Secrets She Carried

by Davis, Barbara

  “So the night you showed up with Rachel, you hadn’t been drinking?”

  “I had a couple snorts before I showed up, to help with the pain. At least that’s what I told myself. The truth is I was trying to get up the nerve to face you. I didn’t come to ruin your party, by the way, or to ask for money.”

  “Then why?” She hated the distrust that had crept into her tone, but old habits died hard.

  “You’re my daughter, Leslie, and I haven’t seen you in almost seven years. I am human, no matter what you think.” His voice was thin, his eyes bent on the carpet. “I know what you think happened the day your mother died.”

  Leslie shot to her feet, crossing the room to put as much distance between them as possible. “Don’t say any more.”

  “We’ve never talked about that day.”

  “And we’re not going to talk about it now.”

  “You think it was on purpose, that I wanted it to happen. That I…made it happen.”

  Leslie’s palms were suddenly slick. “Please, don’t do this.”

  Jimmy wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed and blank, lost somewhere in the past. “It was an accident. She grabbed my arm, probably to shake some sense into me, and I fell into her. She went down before I knew what was happening…with the scissors in her hand.”

  His face was the color of parchment as he continued, propped like a mummy against the sofa cushions. “For a long time I wasn’t sure. I was pretty well lit. And after…well, I just stayed that way, relieved not to remember. Then a man looks you in the eye and tells you you’re about to meet your maker. You get real clear when your hourglass is almost empty.”

  He glanced up, waiting. Leslie met his gaze without expression, her silence clearly wounding him more than anything she could have said.

  “I didn’t do it,” he said finally, the words rushing out as if a levee had suddenly broken. “I’ve made myself remember it a million times, and I know now. I was lit and I was mad, but the fall was an accident. That’s what I came to Gavin to say—that and nothing else. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I can’t forgive myself. What happened on those stairs was still my fault, just as sure as if I’d pushed her, and I have to live with that for as long as I have left.”

  Leslie sat down heavily. She was shaking, her clenched hands bone white in her lap. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

  “Why do you think?” His voice broke then, shuddering with all the guilt and pain he’d been trying to outrun for so long. He dropped his head into his hands, his wasted shoulders hunched and shaking. “You’re all I’ve got left, Baby Girl. I’ve ruined so much, for me and for you. I can’t just…leave it like that.”

  She had never seen him like this, vulnerable and emptied out, devoid of excuses. Once she had been skilled at reading him, at spotting every lie and ruse, but years of separation had dulled that skill, and she found herself unarmed, forced to choose between blind trust and self-preservation.

  “Well, you’ve said what you came to say. Now what?”

  Jimmy looked as if he’d been shaken awake in the middle of a dream. “I don’t know. I never expected you to listen.”

  “You didn’t give me much choice.”

  “You have every right to hate me. I never gave you a damn thing, but before you kick me out, there’s one thing I am going to give you, and that’s a piece of advice. Fix this thing between you and Jay.”

  “How do you even know about…this thing?”

  “He called up there to check on me, to make sure I was living up to my end, probably.” He paused, turned his head, and coughed harshly. When he finally got his breath back, he went on. “When I asked how you were he said you two had fallen out. He wouldn’t tell me what it was all about, but I got the feeling it wasn’t his idea.”

  “Maybe not, but he certainly set it in motion.”

  Jimmy looked at her for a long moment, as if gathering his words carefully. “Fix it. Whatever it is, fix it. Don’t be so stubborn that you miss a chance at happiness.”

  “It’s a bit late to start offering fatherly advice, don’t you think?”

  Jimmy ducked his head in acknowledgment. “It is at that.” Something soft and wistful touched the corners of his mouth as he regarded her. “You always were a tough little thing—nothing but breath and britches. And in all my life the only thing I ever saw you run from was me—until now.”

  Leslie squared her shoulders. “I didn’t run. I chose to end a relationship with a man who didn’t know how to be honest.”

  Jimmy scrubbed a hand through what was left of his hair. “I don’t know what that means, and I don’t expect you’re going to tell me, but Leslie, honey, a man doesn’t put himself out like he has for me for no damn reason.”

  Leslie shrugged.

  “Do you love him?”

  “No…maybe…I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. He’s leaving.”

  Jimmy’s dull eyes went suddenly sharp. “What do you mean, he’s leaving?

  “He’s deeded his half of Peak over to me. He gave me the papers a few minutes ago.”

  “Why the hell would he go and do that?”

  “He has other plans. And they don’t include me.”

  He looked her square in the eye then. “Was that his choice or yours?”

  “What difference does it make? It’s done. Look, I know you’re grateful for what he’s done, but there are things you don’t know, things that might change your opinion of him.”

  Jimmy lowered his head as another spasm of coughs racked him. When he finally looked up, his face was sheened with sweat and as pale as chalk. “I don’t know anything about the man, except that he obviously feels something for you. He doesn’t give a good goddamn about me, but he did what he did, and that’s because of you.”

  Leslie’s head was swimming. “You look tired,” she said, to change the subject. “You should rest.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m going to make us some soup. Will you at least try to eat some of it?”

  He nodded. “There are some pills in my coat pocket. They help with the nausea.”

  Leslie stood and went to retrieve the pills. There were three bottles in the right pocket.

  “It’s the smallest one,” he said, when he saw her holding all three. “The others are for the cancer. One’s supposed to slow down the tumor. The other’s supposed to slow down the pain.”

  She padded back to the couch, handing him the pills. “Are you…in pain now?”

  “Not much.”

  She stood there, watching him fumble with the lid, hands trembling as he shook two pills into his palm and reached for the mug of cold tea. A wave of sadness washed over her at the sight of him, unsteady and spent, like a candle whose wick had burned down. He blurred for a moment, becoming a watery smear of browns and grays. She blinked and cleared her throat, then stepped to the window to peer out.

  “Do you have a place to stay?”

  “I’ve got a few bucks left. I’ll find a place.”

  “It’s starting to snow,” she said thickly, as she watched the first lazy flakes drifting past the chilly panes. “You’ll stay here tonight.”

  Chapter 42

  Jay

  Jay glanced around at the piles of papers and books littering the floor of the tiny living room, marveling that a single man could collect so much junk in just five short years. Except those years didn’t feel short; they felt like a lifetime, one that for better or worse, he was leaving behind. He’d kept his distance the last few weeks, from the Shivelys and from Leslie. It wasn’t hard to keep busy. There was plenty to do before he pulled up stakes.

  He tried not to think about where he was going or what he was going to do, mostly because he didn’t have a clue. And sooner or later he was going to have to break it to his publisher that he wasn’t finishing the book and that the advance money was gone. There’d be hell to pay, though just what kind he couldn’t say. He’d never run out on an advance before.

  G
o ahead…Run…It’s what you do.

  Angie’s words—thrown back at him when he told her he was leaving—had been playing in his head for days. And why not? They were true. He had run from his marriage, then from a wildly successful career; now he was running again, because it was somehow better to cut the cord himself than risk being hurt again. But maybe this time there was a twisted rightness to it all, a messy way of bringing things full circle. Leslie was back where she belonged. In that, at least, Maggie had gotten her way.

  A knock at the door brought those thoughts up short. No one ever knocked on his door but Leslie. Picking his way around half-packed cartons, he opened the door, already bracing for an awkward scene. He nearly fell over when he saw Jimmy Nichols propped against the frame, face gray and glistening with sweat, despite the ground being patched with melting snow.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Jimmy mopped his brow on his sleeve. “You gonna ask me in, or are we going to have this out on the doorstep?”

  Jay looked him up and down once more before stepping aside. “You’ve got five minutes.”

  He watched in disbelief as Jimmy wheezed across the threshold and into the living room. Beneath a few lonely wisps of hair, his face was the color of modeling clay, his body all awkward angles, bones visible through his loose-fitting clothes. What the hell had the doctors been doing up there?

  Jimmy braced himself with a hand on the back of the couch and took another swipe at his damp forehead. “You look almost as surprised as Leslie.”

  “We had a deal, Nichols. You were supposed to stay in Connecticut.”

  “My treatment’s finished for now,” he pushed out between breaths. “I needed to see my daughter. And you.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  Jimmy smiled—or grimaced. Jay wasn’t sure which. “Everything, including how you threatened to kill me if I bothered her.”

  “And you have bothered her.”

  Jimmy shrugged, clearly unfazed. “I figured the worst you could do was make good on your threat. And what with already dying, well…”

  Jay’s fists curled instinctively. “You think this is a joke?”

  “Easy, Rambo. I’m here by invitation this time. Leslie and I struck a truce, and I plan to make good on it. There’ll be plenty of things to regret when I die. Leaving things a mess with my little girl isn’t going to be one of them. It’s too bad you can’t say the same.”

  Perhaps for the first time in his life, Jay understood what it meant to see red.

  “Where do you get off waltzing in here like father of the year? Because you managed to stay sober for two whole months?”

  Jimmy’s smirk vanished. “I’ll never be able to repay you for what you did, Davenport, though I’m guessing right about now you wish you hadn’t bothered. But since you did, I’m going to set you straight about some things. When I’m done you can knock my teeth down my throat if you still want to.”

  Jay was only half listening, distracted by the way Jimmy had begun to waver on his feet. He didn’t give a damn what happened later, but he wasn’t about to let the old man keel over in his living room.

  “Sit,” he ordered gruffly. “You don’t look so hot.”

  Jimmy sagged down onto the couch and briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them again he seemed to notice the mess for the first time.

  “You going somewhere?”

  “Leslie didn’t tell you?”

  “I wanted to hear it from you. You’re walking away from a good thing, son—a sure thing.”

  “I assume you mean Leslie?”

  “You tell me. All I know is, you started something, and now you want to bail.”

  Jay shoved his hands in his pockets, glaring. “Are you done playing Yoda?”

  “I’m not playing anything. I’m trying to figure out what the hell you two are doing. You were no help on the phone, and my daughter won’t tell me anything.”

  Jay was beginning to regret ever letting him in. “Look, I get that you feel the need to swoop in here and make up for all the shit you’ve done in your life, but it’s more complicated than that.”

  “I’m guessing it was your fault.”

  “Why would you guess that?”

  “Because if it was her fault you wouldn’t be packing up everything you own right now and hightailing it out of town. And because you won’t look me in the eye.”

  Jay tried to force his eyes to Jimmy’s. It was no good. The bastard had read him like a book. What the hell was he supposed to say? I can’t stay because your daughter hates my guts? It kills me to know I’ve lost her and I’ve got no one to blame but myself? He wasn’t saying that, not to this man.

  “I lied to her,” he blurted instead. “When she found out, she blew up.”

  “Told you where to head in, did she? You married?”

  Jay shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I thought I was protecting her.”

  “Protection isn’t what she needs, son. She’s tougher than you think.”

  “I’m finding that out. I tried to explain, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  Something like a smile flitted across Jimmy’s ashen features. “Girl always was stubborn, probably a little light in the trust department, too. You can thank me for that.”

  “So what am I supposed to do?”

  “Say you’re sorry.”

  “I have.”

  “Then say it again.”

  “And if she doesn’t want to hear it?”

  Jimmy thought about that for a moment, fingers scraping at the gray stubble on his chin. “Well,” he said finally, leveling his gaze on Jay. “That falls directly under the heading of your business, but if it were me—I’d stick around ’til she did.”

  Leslie was nowhere in sight when Jay walked into the tasting barn, despite Angie’s assertions that he would find her there. Circling a large stack of boxes labeled FRAGILE—the tasting glasses, he guessed—he eyed the walls, admiring photos Leslie had taken of the old mule exchange and fire station. She really did have an eye.

  “Well, well, I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Leslie’s voice came from behind him, cool and more than a little distant. He turned to find her in the doorway of the storage room, a hammer in one hand, a box of nails in the other.

  “I figured it was time we talk.”

  “Is there anything to talk about?”

  “That’s what I came to ask you. The photos are a nice touch, by the way. The locals are going to eat it up.”

  “That’s the plan. So?”

  Jay stood staring, surprised at how much he’d missed seeing her face. “So?”

  “You said we should talk,” Leslie prompted tersely. “So talk.”

  “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

  “I’m not inclined to, no.” She took a stool at the bar and laid down her tools. “But I will listen, as long as it has to do with you staying.”

  “You don’t need me. The tough stuff’s behind you.” He scanned the beamed ceiling a moment before bringing his gaze back to hers. “Why don’t you sign the papers, Leslie? I don’t want to sell to a stranger.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “You sounded like your father just then.”

  “He told me he went to see you a few days ago. I’m sorry about that. He shouldn’t have bothered you.”

  “Is he bothering you?”

  Leslie shook her head, and for a moment her mask slipped. “He’s too sick to bother anyone.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” Jay shot back, wanting to lighten the moment. Her scorn was so much easier to take than her sadness.

  “He was sick the night of the party,” she said, ignoring his attempt at humor. “But then, I guess you know that. I suppose I should thank you for what you did. I’m just still trying to figure out why you did it.”

  “Let’s not do that now. The man needed help and I knew a doctor. Frankly, I’m surprised you don’t want to wring my
neck.”

  Leslie lifted vacant eyes to him. “No, I…needed this time…before he’s too sick to say what he needs to.”

  “Is he…”

  Leslie cut him off. “He goes back in six weeks. We’ll know more then. In the meantime, he’s staying with me.”

  Jay studied her face a moment, half-hidden behind a curtain of dark hair. There were shadows beneath her eyes that he hadn’t seen since she first arrived. “Your plate’s pretty full. Are you going to be able to handle it all?”

  She shrugged and pushed back her hair. “I have to. This is my life now. I own a winery, and my father has cancer. I wasn’t here for Maggie—I can’t not be here for him too.”

  They sat quietly for a time, each seemingly fascinated by the grain in the varnished oak bar top. It was Jay who finally broke the silence.

  “Your father thinks I should hang around until you forgive me.”

  “I’ll bet,” she answered curtly. “He’s big on forgiveness these days.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you should stay whether I forgive you or not. You started something here long before you met me, and I don’t just mean the winery.”

  Jay’s spine stiffened. “If that’s a reference to the book, I’d prefer to change the subject.”

  “You took the advance. Why would you take the money if you never meant to finish it?”

  “Why do you think?”

  She looked away then, folding her arms on the edge of the bar. “You’re going to wind up in court over this.”

  “Quite possibly. It won’t be the first time I’ve ended up on the wrong side of a judge.”

  Leslie shot him an incredulous look. “You think this is a joke?”

  “Far from it, but it is what it is. I did what I thought was right, and I’m okay with that.”

  She didn’t answer right away, just stared at him in the bar mirror, as if working out her words very carefully. Finally, she spoke, her eyes probing places he didn’t want her to go. “If you did know the truth—if there was a way to find out what really happened that night—would you finish it?”

  “No.”

  His answer was immediate, too sharp, perhaps, but she needed to understand that for him it was over. He’d gone as far as he was willing to go. He’d been there the day they put Maggie in the ground, burying her ghosts along with her, and that’s how he wanted it to stay.