Just Kiss Me

by Rachel Gibson

  Henry tapped a finger on the heavily carved wooden armrest, but he didn’t say anything. Why bother? He and Spence had learned at an early age that if they disagreed with their mother, trying to talk to her was futile. So impossible, they didn’t bother. Short of tackling her and tying a gag around her mouth, she’d give her unsolicited opinion. She was his mother and he’d give her the respect of pretending to listen, then he’d do exactly as he pleased. And it pleased him to be with Vivien. It was going to please him even more when she returned to Charleston.

  “Most of Macy Jane’s affairs are settled. I’m going to speak to Vivien about selling the carriage house to me. Then there will be no reason for her to return to Charleston at all.” She reached for her teacup once again. “Unless she returns to see you.” She looked across at him. “If you get my meaning.”

  “I hear you.”

  “You have to leave Vivien alone. You’ve kept her distracted and away from your brother long enough. The sooner she’s gone, the better.”

  Not for him, and he had no intention of leaving Vivien alone. “For who, Mother?”

  “All of us. I said to keep her occupied. Not sleep with the girl.”

  He felt like he was sixteen again and his mother was berating him for dating “strumpets” he’d met at the Piggly Wiggly or Jean’s Sunshine Café. Perfectly nice girls who hadn’t been strumpets at all but whose last name didn’t appear in Charleston history books. And just like when he’d been sixteen, he pushed back. “We don’t get much sleep, Mother.”

  “I don’t care to know the details.” Her lips pursed and her nostrils pinched. “You’re a good son, Henry. You always do what’s best for the family.”

  “Yeah,” he said, the heavy burden of family responsibility weighing him down even more than usual. “You know me. No task is too distasteful.”

  “No need to string Vivien along further,” she continued as if she hadn’t noticed the bitterness in his voice. “Leave her alone now so she’ll return to Hollywood where she belongs.”

  A flash of blue caught his attention and he glanced at the entry hall. Vivien, stared at him, her eyes wide and her cheeks were red as if someone had slapped her. “You’re not in Japan,” came out of his mouth as his brain tried to absorb her sudden appearance.

  Her gaze turned to his mother then back to him. One of her shoes fell from her hands, then she spun on her heels and disappeared, almost as if she’d never been there. Except now he could hear the heels of her bare feet echo into the silence. He wondered what she’d heard, and by the look on her face and quick retreat, he feared too much.

  “Well, that’s a shame.” Nonnie confirmed his fear. “But I suppose it’s for the best. Now she can return to her home and not feel as if she has anything keeping her here.”

  Henry stood and felt as if he’d been kicked in the chest. Vivien wasn’t going anywhere. Not if he had anything to say about it. “I know you love nothing better than ordering people around and congratulating yourself when you think you succeed, but I haven’t been spending time with Vivien because you commanded it.” He moved toward the doorway and said over his shoulder, “I’ve been spending as much time as possible with her because I want to, and it doesn’t have anything to do with you.” He bent at the waist and picked up Vivien’s stiletto. “She’s not going anywhere.” Not if he could help it. “I want her here with me.”

  “Henry.” Nonnie swung her legs over the side of the chaise. “Vivien isn’t a suitable woman for you. I like her fine, but her place in society is beneath yours.”

  “You don’t get to tell me who’s suitable or not.” He pointed his finger at her then to his chest, filling with rage. “That’s my choice to make that decision, and Vivien is my choice.” He dropped his hand to his side. “You stay out of it.”

  “There is no way around the situation of her birth. You know it can’t be sugarcoated.”

  God, she made it sound like it was 1850 and they were standing in the parlor of Whitley Hall. He looked over his shoulder at his mother. “Not like mine?”

  “It’s not the same, Henry. You have Whitley blood.”

  “Mixed with Olivier. Not even your blue blood could elevate a lowly cabinetmaker from Sangaree. Could it?”

  Chapter 16

  The Diary of Vivien Leigh Rochet

  Keep out! Do NOT read under Penalty of Death!!

  Dear Diary,

  Momma didn’t have any more babies after my daddy died, but I wish I had a brother. For a while I wanted a sister so she could do half my chores and we could share clothes. But I think I want a brother. If I had a brother, he could beat up Bubba for me. He could beat up Henry, and Spence, too. I’d give my brother my Kiss My Patootie list and he could take care of it for me.

  Dear Diary,

  Momma’s making me go to Texas again. I don’t want to go. Kathy doesn’t like Momma and me. She says Momma uses her sadness to make people feel sorry for her. That’s not true and it’s mean. Before we left Texas last summer, I broke Uncle Richie’s fly rod because brothers and sisters should stand up for each other. I told Momma that I don’t ever want to go to Texas again. She said we need to be like Jesus and love and forgive each other. I told her I didn’t want to be like Jesus. He got nailed to a cross. After that, I had to go to church for a whole summer. Even when Momma got the sadness and didn’t go, the Mantis took me. No Fair. ☹ ☹ ☹

  Dear Diary,

  Now that I got a bra, I’m going to get my period soon. I got a cramp in my stomach last week and I thought it started, but it was just from running in P.E. At school the teacher said to call it menstruation. My momma calls it her monthly visitor. Lottie says her sister calls it shark week. Ouch!! When I get my period, I don’t know what I’ll call it. The teacher said menstruating lasts for four to six days. Momma says that in our family the monthly visitor only visits for two days. She says I’ll be happy about that.

  Dear Diary,

  I’ve been thinking about boys lately. What if I can’t find a boy to marry me? Momma says I have a long time before I have to worry about that, but I think I should start making a list now of all the things to look for in a husband so I don’t end up with someone like my momma’s new boyfriend, Nile. I call him Vile because he wears too much cologne.

  Things I Want in a Husband

  1. Big house and pool

  2. Can fix stuff so our door isn’t broken for three months

  3. Handsome like Jonathan Taylor Thomas

  4. Trust him not to give other girls stuffed dogs and lifesavers

  5. Doesn’t stink

  More to come.

  Chapter 17

  Vivien sat at her momma’s kitchen table. Boxes of her china and silver were packed up and waiting for her to rent a storage shed. She should have more done. The whole house should be done and ready for a cleaning crew but she’d spent her time with Henry instead of taking care of her mother’s estate.

  Her blue suede stiletto fell from her lap. She’d arrived two days early from Japan because she’d wanted to surprise Henry. A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand.

  The last time she’d seen him, she’d told him she was falling for him. He hadn’t said he was falling for her, too, but she’d been so sure he felt something. She’d been so sure of him that she’d flown in early and taken a cab to the carriage house. She’d been so sure he felt the same that she’d planned to surprise him. She’d wanted to change into the blue bra and panties she’d bought to matched her five-inch pumps. She knew how much Henry liked her pumps and she had it all planned out in her head. She’d call and tell him she was in town, and when he knocked on her door, she’d answer in her underwear and heels.

  “Surprise.” Only she’d been the one who’d been surprised. First by Henry’s truck in the driveway and then by what she’d heard in the parlor.

  A dull pinch pulled at her forehead and squeezed her brain. She was jet-lagged. She was tired. She probably hadn’t heard Nonnie right. She p
robably hadn’t heard Henry say that she was a distasteful task or Nonnie thanking him for stringing her along. She didn’t want to believe it. Henry wasn’t the kind of guy to play games. He wasn’t that mean. He would never hurt her.

  Or would he? Did she even know Henry? Vivien wished she could go back in time. Go back to half an hour ago and have the taxi take her to the house on Rainbow Row instead. Go back to when she was happy and excited to be in Charleston and impatient to see Henry. Go back to when her chest had been light and fuzzy with anticipation, before a bomb exploded near her heart.

  “Vivien,” Henry called out from the living room seconds before he appeared in the doorway of the kitchen with her toe-pinching killer pump that she’d taken off before she’d walked into the big house. He looked at her and opened his mouth as if to speak. He shut it again because there was nothing to say.

  “Tell me it isn’t true.”

  “It’s not what it seems.”

  She wished he’d denied it. Vivien closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. It was true. She’d heard both of them correctly, and she was an idiot to ever have thought either of them cared a bit about her. She felt him grasp her wrists and he pulled her hands away from her face.

  “Vivien, you don’t understand what all of that was about.” He knelt on one knee in front of her.

  “What part do you think I don’t understand?” His handsome face was on the same level as hers, and his dark gaze bored into her head as if they were kids again and he wanted to read her brain. “The part where Nonnie was proud of you for keeping me away from Spence?”

  “Vivien.”

  “Or the part where I’m a distasteful task?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Then tell me I didn’t hear Nonnie say you were stringing me along.” Now it was her turn to search his gaze for anything that would make the pain go away.

  “You have to understand—”

  “Make me understand,” she interrupted, her voice pleading with him to make it better. To make it go away so they could go back to the warm, cozy place where she’d felt safe and secure. Where his solid arms made her feel as if she stood on stable ground for the first time in her life. “Make me understand why you did this to me?”

  He closed his eyes then opened them again. “It has nothing to do with you.” He brushed his hair back with both hands and looked like he wanted to crush his skull. “It’s about Spence.”

  “What does Spence have to do with me?”

  “He’s been reckless since his divorce.”

  “What? That doesn’t make sense.” But nothing that day made sense. “I don’t get it. I haven’t even seen Spence since Momma’s funeral.” She took a deep breath past the jagged shards of her heart. “What did I ever do to you to make you hurt me like this?”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Vivien. You’re the last person I’d hurt, but Spence would have kept coming on to you just to amuse himself.”

  She stood and walked across the room, putting distance between herself and Henry. Tears fell from her eyes and she didn’t even try to stop them. “So you amused yourself instead.”

  “I wasn’t amused. I found the whole idea offensive to both of us.”

  “Not so offensive that you didn’t do it. Do you and Nonnie think I can’t control myself around all men, or just the Whitley-Shuler boys?”

  “Not at all.” He rose and moved toward her.

  “You wasted your time, Henry. I’m not the least bit attracted to your brother. He could have come on to me all he wanted but it wouldn’t have mattered.” She shook her head and laughed without humor. “Did Nonnie tell you to have sex with me? Was that part of her plan?”

  “There wasn’t a real plan, Vivien. I needed to keep Spence away from you. That was it. I wanted to have sex with you because I wanted you. You wanted me too.”

  “I made your plan so easy for you. You didn’t even have to try to get me in bed.” The backs of her eye stung. “I just hopped in all on my own.”

  “Nothing about you is easy.” He reached for her but she moved away from his grasp.

  “I trusted you and you lied to me.” He’d broken her trust and her heart.

  “I didn’t lie to you.”

  “Yes you did. Every time you made me think you wanted to be with me, and every time you made me think you cared about me, was a lie.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Everything was a lie. God, even as I say it, it’s hard to believe.”

  “I do care about you, Vivien.”

  “And I fell for it.” Again he reached for her, and again she backed away. “All because you didn’t want me to end up with Spence.”

  He simply looked at her. His silence more telling than words.

  She shook her head. “There’s something I don’t get. Why were you asked to sacrifice yourself for your brother?”

  “It was no sacrifice.”

  “It’s so insulting, really.” Again she swiped at a tear. She wished her eyes would stop leaking. She was an actress. She should have more control, but when it came to Henry, she’d never been able to control herself. “Why is Spence so special that you had to save him from me?” She put a palm to her chest.

  “Spence isn’t special. There are things about Spence that you don’t know.”

  “Is he crazy?” Spence had seemed perfectly normal to her. “Is he a demented pervert or a serial killer?” She dropped her hand to her side.

  “Of course not. He’s reckless sometimes, but he’s a good guy.”

  “That doesn’t tell me why you threw yourself under the bus to save him.” She wiped her hand across her nose. “I deserve the truth.”

  He took a deep breath and stared into her eyes. “You do, but I’m not sure I should be the one telling it. Macy Jane should have told you.”

  “What does my momma have to do with any of this? What does my momma have to do with Spence?”

  He let out the breath he’d been holding and walked to the counter. He plucked a tissue from the box and handed it to her.

  She grabbed it and almost said thank you. “What is so special about your brother that y’all had to protect him from me?”

  He looked at her for several long moments then said, “You and Spence have the same father.”

  “What?” She thought he’d just said that her daddy was Spence’s daddy too.

  “You and Spence have the same biological father.”

  “Jeremiah Rochet?” He’d made her chest ache and now he was spinning her head around.

  “No, Vivien. Fredrickk Shuler.”

  “My father is Jeremiah Rochet.” She wiped beneath her eyes and placed a hand on her chest. “I told you that he was killed before I was born. On a three-masted schooner that went down in the Florida Straits.”

  “Saving Cubans. I remember.”

  “I have the old newspaper article.” God, even as she said it, it sounded like a lie. “All the Rochets were killed that day.”

  “Your biological father is Fredrickk Shuler.”

  She moved to a chair and sat before her knees gave out. “No. Momma would have told me.”

  “Think about it, Vivien.” He sat in a chair near her and reached for her hand. “Don’t you think it’s a little too convenient that all the Rochets were lost at sea so you never got to meet any of them?”

  “It could happen.” She’d seen the newspaper with her own eyes.

  “You and Macy Jane lived in the carriage house.”

  “Because we were employees and your mother gave it to us.”

  “My mother didn’t have anything to do with it. If fact, the day you two moved in she was livid.” He paused and squeezed her hand. “Macy Jane was Fredrickk’s mistress, and he gave her the carriage house. He probably would have given her more, but he died without providing for either of you financially.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” She pulled her hand from his and folded her arms. If all that was true, her momma had lied to her her entire life. If it was true,
the woman who’d always worried that even the whitest of lies would make the poor baby Jesus cry, had lied about something as important as Vivien’s father. It was crazy and she couldn’t wrap her brain around it. “You want me to believe Fredrickk Shuler is my father and Spence is my brother.”

  “Yes. I know this all sounds crazy right now, but Jeremiah Rochet was just some guy who conveniently died around the time you were born.”

  She thought of Spence’s face as he teased her about razzies and as he slid his hand up her knee. She gasped and felt her heart spasm. “Spence came on to me!”

  “That’s because he doesn’t know.” Henry shook his head. “He was never told, either.”

  Spence didn’t know. She didn’t know. Who did know besides her momma, Nonnie, and . . . Henry? “Sick!” She jumped to her feet as the blood rushed from her head. “Y’all are sick.” She backed away from him. “If Spence is my brother, then you . . .” Her finger shook as she pointed to him. “Then you’re my brother too, and we . . .” Her brain refused to grasp the fact that Henry was her brother and she’d had sex with him. She felt sick to her stomach and couldn’t catch her breath. “It’s no secret that some of you Whitley’s married your first cousins. But brother and sister . . . each other . . .” She covered her burning cheeks with her hands. “Oh my God, you people are sick.”

  “Vivien.” He stood and scowled at her. “I’m not your brother.”

  “If . . . if . . . Spence, then—”

  “My biological father isn’t Fredrickk Shuler.”

  Her hands fell to her side. “What?” What the hell was going on? Her father wasn’t her father. Henry’s father wasn’t his father. Her mother was a liar. Spence was her brother. It was all too much and her brain went blessedly numb.

  “My father is, was,” he corrected himself, “a man who worked at Whitley Hall. Fredrickk married my mother when she was three months pregnant with me.”