Family Sins

by Sharon Sala

  “We didn’t know where you’d gone,” Samuel said.

  “We didn’t want you out here by yourself,” Michael added.

  “They made me come with them,” Aidan said, which made everyone laugh.

  Jesse laughed, too, filled with the joy of still being one of the boys.

  A group hug ensued, and then the night wrapped them up in silence as they stood together beneath the stars.

  * * *

  It had taken a while for Bowie to get Jesse calmed down after everyone had gone home, so he’d pulled out the Daniel Boone book and read another chapter, giving Leigh time to shower.

  He was sitting on the bed with Jesse when he heard the water come on in the bathroom across the hall, and when he heard his mother crying he read louder.

  It was just shy of midnight when Bowie finally got to take his own shower. A few minutes later he eased into bed beside Talia and settled the covers over both of them, taking care not to wake her. He thought it would be hard to fall asleep, and yet he was asleep within minutes.

  He was dreaming that they were dancing, and that Talia was standing on his feet as they moved across the floor. She had locked her hands behind his neck. His hands were at her waist, and she was laughing and laughing, when all of a sudden the laugh morphed into a scream.

  He woke with his heart pounding, only to realize it wasn’t a dream and Talia was screaming in her sleep.

  He jumped up and turned on the light. “Talia! Sweetheart! Wake up!”

  She gasped, then choked, and was trying to catch her breath when Leigh burst into the room.

  “Bad dream?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Bowie said.

  “Bless her heart,” Leigh said. “I’ll make her a cup of hot chocolate to wash it away.”

  Talia was crying and struggling to sit up when Bowie lifted her into his arms, then walked over to a big easy chair by the window and sat down with her close against his chest. With all the bruises on her knees and legs, and the broken ribs, he let her lean on him, rather than holding her too tight.

  “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” he kept saying. “It was a dream, just a dream.”

  Talia knew it, but the shock and the sensation of falling was still fresh in her mind. In the dream she’d even felt the rush of air against her skin as she was tumbling.

  “I wasn’t in a car. It was just me. I fell off the mountain, and I kept falling and falling and falling, and then you woke me. Oh my God, it was so real.”

  “It was a dream, and it’s over. Mama is making you some hot chocolate—to wash away the dream, she said.”

  Talia groaned. “Oh, no! I woke her, too? Did I wake Jesse? Is he okay?”

  “Mama needs someone to baby, honey. Let her do her thing. As for Jesse, he sleeps through just about everything.”

  Talia went limp against him, waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal.

  A couple of minutes later Leigh was back, carrying a small towel and a steaming cup of hot chocolate. “I put marshmallows in it,” she said.

  “That’s what Mother used to do,” Talia said, and burst into tears.

  “Bless your heart,” Leigh said, as she sat the cup aside and pulled a blanket from the bed for Bowie to cover Talia with. Then she leaned over the both of them, gave each one a kiss on the cheek and left the room.

  Talia cried until her eyes were swollen and the chocolate had cooled. She drank it lukewarm, sharing some with Bowie until the cup was empty and the hollow feeling in her belly was gone.

  “Do you feel like you’re ready to lie back down?” Bowie asked.

  “I want to go to the bathroom first,” she said.

  “I’ll get you there, then you call out when you want me to come get you.”

  “I think maybe I can walk,” she said, but when she stood, her knees were so stiff and painful that the few steps she took were more than Bowie could stand to witness.

  He carried her across the darkened hall and into the bathroom, waited until she was steady enough on her feet to get to the toilet, and then slipped out the door. A couple of minutes later he heard the toilet flush and then water running in the sink. He was waiting for her to call him when she opened the door.

  “I’m ready,” she said softly.

  He carried her back to bed, turned off the lights and stretched out beside her once more. There were a few moments of silence, and then he heard her sigh.

  “I love you, Bowie.”

  He smiled. “I love you, too,” he said.

  “When we get married, I don’t care where we go or what our house looks like. As long as you’re there, I’ll be happy.”

  “Sounds perfect to me,” he said.

  “I want babies,” she said.

  His heart skipped a beat at the thought of his child in her belly.

  “So do I... Pretty little girls with curly hair and sassy smiles like their mama.”

  “I’ve lost my sass,” Talia said.

  “You’ll get it back,” he promised.

  She didn’t say anything more, and when he heard her breathing change to a slow and steady pace, he knew she’d fallen asleep.

  The next time he woke it was morning and Talia was lying on her side watching him sleep.

  “Good morning,” she whispered.

  He managed a sleepy grin.

  “Good morning to you, too, sunshine.”

  She touched his face, then ran her fingers through his hair, loving the feel of the silky strands sliding between her fingers.

  “You have sexy hair,” she said.

  He chuckled. “The hell you say.”

  She nodded.

  “And you have a sexy body,” he said.

  She made a face. “I have a skinny body,” she muttered.

  He frowned.

  “No, you don’t. You’re perfect—like a gorgeous car that just needs a tune-up.”

  She laughed.

  “I’d almost forgotten what man-speak sounded like.”

  He grinned. “Want me to see if anyone is in the bathroom?”

  She nodded.

  He brushed a quick kiss across her lips and rolled out of bed, and so their day began.

  * * *

  Andrew chose his clothes carefully that morning. Good gabardine slacks, a pale blue shirt and a beige linen sport coat. He chose a pair of brown alligator shoes to add a little flash and made sure his short curly hair was moussed into place. On a good day his reputation was questionable, but being connected in any way whatsoever with the now infamous Waynes was dicey, and the thought of presenting himself at the police station with his information was unnerving. By the time he felt presentable it was almost 9:00 a.m., and his belly was churning. If only he could get this done without any ensuing notoriety he would be grateful.

  He checked out of the motel, intent on leaving Eden after he got the video into the proper hands, and headed for downtown. He knew where the police station was located and arrived there without an issue. He grabbed his laptop, patted his pocket to make sure the disc was there and got out of the car.

  It appeared to be the beginning of another sunny summer day, although it had yet to get hot. A stray cat ran across his path as he headed toward the station. He made the sign of the cross and whispered a quiet prayer of thanksgiving that the damn thing wasn’t black, then hastened his stride.

  Once inside, he walked up to the receptionist at the front desk, a thirty-something woman with gray roots and red hair. He wanted to suggest another color to offset the reddish cast of her skin and tried not to stare.

  “Good morning,” the woman said. “How can I help you?”

  “I need to speak to Chief Clayton.”

  “Your name?” she asked.

  “Andrew Bingham.” />
  “Is he expecting you?” she asked.

  “No. Just tell him it’s about Stanton Youngblood’s murder.”

  “Are you from some newspaper?”

  He frowned. He hadn’t driven all this distance to be grilled by a receptionist.

  “I’m not going to discuss why I came with anyone but him. Just tell him it’s about the killer.”

  “They already have the killer in custody.”

  “No. They don’t,” he said, and watched the shock spread across her face.

  “Have a seat,” she said, pointing to a bank of chairs against the wall, then grabbed the phone.

  Andrew didn’t bother sitting down, which was just as well, because he heard footsteps approaching at a fast pace. Then a door opened behind the reception area.

  It was Clayton.

  “Come with me,” the chief said shortly, and led the way back to his office, then waved at a chair on the other side of his desk. “Take a seat.”

  Andrew sat.

  “Who are you, and what the hell do you mean, we don’t have Youngblood’s killer?”

  “My name is Andrew Bingham. Up until a few days ago I was Nita Wayne’s guest at your local hotel, and on call at any time, night or day, to appease her sexual whims.”

  Clayton blinked. “You’re a gi—”

  “I prefer ‘professional escort,’” Andrew said. “At times I was also an escort for Charles Wayne.”

  Clayton frowned. “Okay, fine. You got paid for sex. Now speak your piece.”

  Andrew nodded.

  “It has been my habit for many years to record my activities with clients. Not for blackmail. Never for that. But as a kind of insurance against winding up in a serious situation not of my making, if you understand my meaning?”

  Clayton shrugged. “I’m listening.”

  “The regular meeting place where Charles and I...indulged was the Wayne family lake house. In fact, it was Charles who suggested it, because he said the family never went there anymore. So he gave me a key, and at agreed-upon times we met and we played, and unknown to him, I recorded our activities. The equipment was motion-activated, so all I had to do was show up and let the party begin. A few days ago I had a falling out with both Nita and Charles, so I packed up my things, including the video equipment, and left town. I’ve spent the past few days in Charleston, going through the recordings, and in doing so I came across a piece of video that you need to see.”

  Clayton threw up his hands. “I have no intention of watching two guys boink each other.”

  Andrew frowned. “That’s not what’s on the disc.”

  “Then what is?” Clayton snapped.

  “It’s video of the man who, I’m quite certain, shot Stanton Youngblood.”

  Clayton leaned forward.

  “The hell you say! You aren’t trying to tell me you have video of the murder?”

  “No, sir. But what I do have is video taken on the morning of the murder, showing a member of the Wayne family running into the house, taking a rifle out of a gun cabinet and leaving just as quickly. Forty-five minutes later the same man comes back, breaks down the rifle, cleans it, then puts it back in the gun cabinet.”

  Clayton’s eyes narrowed. “Show me.”

  Andrew nodded, opened his laptop, slipped the disc into the slot, hit Play and turned the screen toward the chief. It didn’t take long for Chief Clayton to get the gist of what he was seeing, and it was obvious he was as surprised as Andrew had been by who it was. The minute the video was over, he reached for the phone and called Constable Riordan.

  A few moments later Riordan answered. “This is Riordan.”

  “Chief Clayton here. I have just been given evidence that I would say clears Justin Wayne of Stanton Youngblood’s murder.”

  “No,” Riordan said, and then sighed. “Well, hell. When are we going to catch a break on this mess?”

  “Oh, we already caught it,” Clayton said. “My evidence gives you the identity and damning evidence of the killer’s culpability, and if I remember the transcripts of your interviews of the family, this completely refutes his alibi. Grab a pen and paper to take down the info you’ll need for an arrest warrant. I’ll be waiting for you here at the office. You can see the video for yourself before we bring the sucker in.”

  “Who is it?” Riordan asked.

  Clayton spilled the beans, and after he’d hung up, he leaned across the desk and shook Andrew’s hand.

  “You did a good thing today, Mr. Bingham. I hope you don’t mind waiting here a little while longer. Constable Riordan may have a question or two for you himself. Since his office has the lead in the murder case, you will officially turn over your video to him.”

  “No problem,” Andrew said. “In the meantime, may I ask for a cup of coffee? I didn’t eat breakfast this morning. A little anxious about coming here and all.”

  “I’ll get your coffee. Feel free to enjoy the donuts and sweet rolls on the table at the back of the room.”

  “Thank you,” Andrew said, and went to get something to eat as the chief poured him some coffee.

  * * *

  The Pharaoh brothers arrived right after breakfast with the backhoe to dig Stanton’s grave, but they also came prepared with pickaxes, should the need arise. Sometimes mountains were more rock than dirt.

  Leigh’s heart skipped a beat when she saw them coming. One more step toward making Stanton’s absence horribly final.

  “Want me to do this?” Bowie asked.

  “No, but thank you,” she said, then stuffed a tissue in her jeans pocket and went out the back door, past Talia, who was sitting in the porch swing.

  “Where you goin’, Mama?” Jesse yelled, as Leigh walked past the garden.

  “To the cemetery,” she said. “You keep picking the berries, okay?”

  “Okay, Mama. Picking berries,” he said.

  Talia saw the stiff set to Leigh’s shoulders and the fact that her hands were curled into fists, and looked away.

  Bowie came out carrying a glass of cold water and handed it to her.

  “Drink up, honey. It’s already getting hot out.”

  She took a big drink and then cradled the glass between her hands as condensation began to coat the outside of it. “I feel so sad for what’s happening.”

  “We all do,” he said, and then eased down on to the swing beside her. “I have news,” he said.

  “Is it good?” she asked.

  “Yes, very.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I’ve been offered an onshore job by my company. Supply engineer. It’s coordinating what both offshore and dry land rigs need, and then facilitating getting the goods to them. I have the experience. The pay is good, the hours are regular, and I’ll be based in New Orleans and home every night.”

  “Oh, Bowie! This is wonderful!”

  Her delight and excitement were evident on her face.

  “It’s going to be a new start for both of us,” he said.

  “Do you have a deadline for when you have to be there?” she asked.

  “Within the next two weeks. We’ll be here for the funeral and still have time to do some house hunting before I start work.”

  “Rather than rush the house hunting, why don’t we just settle into an apartment, preferably with a short lease, and then take our time finding a permanent home?”

  Bowie grinned. “You wouldn’t mind that?”

  She threw her arms around his neck.

  “I don’t care where we are, as long as we’re together, remember?” she said, and kissed him, then didn’t turn loose.

  The kiss went longer and grew more heated until Bowie stopped with a groan.

  “You might want this, but you can’t have it, and neither can I,�
�� he said. “Just get well.”

  “We could pretend.”

  He laughed.

  “We moved way past that stage when you turned sixteen.”

  “I’ve been missing you for so long,” she said.

  It was the quiet tone of her voice that made him look closer.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She hesitated for a moment before she answered.

  “I guess I’m afraid this is all too good to be true. I wanted this for so long and thought it was lost to me. Getting you back, and with the dream, seems too good to be true.”

  Bowie hated the fear he heard in her voice. “What dream are you talking about, baby?”

  “The one where we live happily ever after.”

  Bowie took her hands and held them against his chest.

  “What do you feel?” he asked.

  She shrugged, uncertain what he meant. “I feel you.”

  “What else?” he asked.

  “How soft your T-shirt is and how hard your muscles are.”

  “What else?” he asked again.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

  He held her hands tighter against him. “Close your eyes, then tell me what you feel.”

  He waited.

  Suddenly her eyes were open and she was smiling.

  “Your heartbeat. I feel your heartbeat.”

  “As long as my heart beats, it beats for you. We aren’t going to be happy. We already are. Even in the middle of such sadness and uncertainty, we already have each other. Now, no more fear about our future. We’re good to go, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Love you,” he said softly.

  “Love you more.”

  “Well, I know that. You have to,” Bowie said.

  Talia laughed. “Why do I have to love you more?”

  He stood.

  “Because there’s so much more of me to love,” he said, and blew her a kiss as he headed for the garden to check on Jesse.

  She was still smiling when he started tilling the ground between the rows of sweet corn.

  A short while later Leigh came back to the house, then stopped at the porch swing and held out her hand.

  “Come inside with me where it’s cool, honey. The day is already way too hot.”