by Mya Barrett
“Me?” He couldn’t help but be flabbergasted at her deduction.
“Like I said, not you in particular, more like the Warrick name. I should have guessed this might happen but I thought—hoped—we were past all this.”
He stared at her, hard, before he spoke. “This sort of thing has happened before?”
“When I was kid there were some people who would go out of their way to make life difficult for us. The fact that the Warricks didn’t care for us was enough ammunition; the rumors about my mother only added fuel to their fire. They didn’t just snub or verbally harass us, but they vandalized our car when we were in town, laid tree branches across our driveway so we couldn’t get out, spray painted our windows black when we weren’t home. It stopped just after I started college and there’s been a sort of shaky truce, I suppose. But the past few years it’s felt like maybe it was a permanent state. I guess I was wrong.”
The urge to simultaneously curse and comfort her stretched his raw nerves tight. “Why didn’t you leave if the people in town were doing those things?”
“This is my town, too, Hale. I was born here. I grew up here. My family is buried here. If I didn’t let your father bully me out of Exum I sure wasn’t going to let a handful of petty people do it, either.” She paused and he watched as her face went pale.
His eyes narrowed as he latched onto her last words. “What do you mean let my father bully you out of Exum?”
She licked her lips and tried to stand. “I’m not getting into this with you.”
“Yes, you are.” He stood up beside her, grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the cabin. “You’ve done a lot of avoiding, Maggie Mae, and it’s high time you stopped dodging and swerving.”
He led her into the house and closed the door behind him. He studied her, made sure there was more fire there than fear, then crossed his arms over his chest. There were so many things that had to be said that he wasn’t sure where she might need or want to start. But by God she was going to explain about his father, and she was going to do it right now. He lifted an eyebrow and waited.
Finally, she propped her hands on her hips and glared back. “Sometimes I can see Royce in you.”
“I suppose sometimes that’s not a bad thing.”
“I suppose you’d think so.”
The bitterness of her words sank in and rolled down deep. “I didn’t always agree with my father. In fact there were times he was a ripe son of a bitch. But not everything he said or did was necessarily wrong.”
She shook her head. “Don’t talk to me about how Royce Warrick was a misunderstood man, about how he was some poor fool who was hounded by a money crazed whore.”
The fury was there in her voice, but so was the pain. He hated hearing either there, so he kept his tone calm. “I never called your mother a whore.”
“You thought it. And so did most everyone else at one time or another. In fact she was called one to her face on several occasions, which was exactly what your father wanted everyone to think.”
“It’s hard to deny the facts, Maggie,” he pointed out quietly.
“Facts?” She let out a hard laugh. “Your father never dealt with facts when it came to my parents. He dealt in fantasies brought on by a bruised ego.”
Hale closed his eyes for equilibrium, opened them again. “All right, I know how everything that went on between our parents hurt you. I’m sorry for that.”
His words seemed to take the rage from her sails. When she spoke again, it was in a soft, almost reluctant voice. “You don’t know, Hale. You have no idea.”
He tried to touch her but she recoiled. He curled his fingers into his palm as he absorbed the quick stab of emotional pain.
“I want to know, Maggie. I want you to tell me. What did my father do to bully you?”
She took a deep breath, waited a long beat, then answered with heavy words. “Not long after I started my business your father paid me a visit. He was very businesslike. He said he couldn’t have me setting up something that might upset the applecart. His applecart, of course. He offered me money to stop my silly little money making scam. That’s what he called it, a silly scam. I refused. He told me he’d have us thrown off the mountain. I informed him that we owned the land and the house, free and clear, and we had the documentation to prove it. That’s when he really got mad. He swore he’d make sure no one in Yates County would do any business with me. He promised me we’d be flat broke and begging for help in less than two months. When I told him that the internet was international and he couldn’t control it, or me, or the phone lines that we paid for and used, he was furious. He threatened to burn us out, to burn down the whole damn mountain, because he deserved to have my mother. He said he’d have her no matter what he had to do.”
Hale stood and stared at her, trying to sort through what she’d just told him. His father had not only demanded Maggie stop trying to make money, he’d demanded she step aside and stop trying to take care of Rebecca. So he could have her. It made no sense. But why would Maggie lie? There was absolutely no reason for it; besides the fact, she simply didn’t have it in her to be so deceptive.
“But your mother—”
“Never loved Royce. It was always one sided.”
His muscles began to tighten into knots as uncertainty crept into his veins. “She chased my father. She even showed up at our house a few times.”
“To beg him to stop making her life, and mine, so difficult.” Her features softened and he felt her body begin to relax. “He made it so bad for us that my father started drinking. He couldn’t find a decent job because of the almighty Warrick name.”
Hale’s world began to tilt and he shifted his weight to right it. “Your father couldn’t find work because he was an alcoholic. No one would hire Quinn because he wasn’t reliable.”
“He was reliable enough for your father to use him. Then my father met my mother and they fell in love. Royce wasn’t very happy about that.”
He shook his head in denial. This wasn’t right; what she was saying was all wrong. “No, my father was engaged to my mother. Rebecca had been going after him even then. Why would he care?”
“Oh, Hale, you don’t see it.” She brushed her fingers over his arm before she moved away. “Sit down.”
He went on watery legs, sinking into the soft cushions of the couch. “Look, I’m sure your mother told you her version of the story, and I know you want to believe her. You love her, I understand that. But I lived this, Maggie. I saw it.”
“I lived it too, Hale, every single day of my life. I probably saw more of it than most people imagine. But you saw what your father wanted you to see.” Her softly spoken words turned his confusion sharp edged.
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“No, I’m calling Royce Warrick a liar.”
She seemed to debate with herself for a moment before she disappeared into her office. A few seconds later she was back, holding a large stack of letters. He stared at her in question when she held them out to him.
“These are the proof,” she said, her voice quiet. “My mother saved all of these in case Royce ever decided to try to attack me. Not her, but me. She didn’t feel that she had to defend herself to Exum. I suspect she knew she couldn’t, not when the town relied on the Warricks’ good wishes to survive. I don’t think she wanted to hurt you or Trent, either.”
He gazed at the pile of envelopes as a dark, sinking feeling clawed at his stomach. “What are you talking about?”
Maggie rolled her lips together, as if it was hard to let her words out. “Your family has always been the backbone of Exum. Really, I think it’s safe to say it’s been an important part of the entire county since it was established.”
Hale nodded, not sure where she was going with this, not sure he wanted to be led down the path she was walking. But he’d asked her and she was giving him what he wanted. What was that adage about being careful what you wished for?
“The Warricks are entrenche
d in this part of the world; they’re fairly well entrenched in everyone’s lives.” She knew he couldn’t deny that so he waited for her to continue. “That much can be said about a few other families around here, including my own. This land, this part of the mountain, has always been ours. We’ve never been rich, never had the same influence as the Warricks, but we’ve always been here.”
He felt himself begin to sweat. “What are you getting at, Maggie?”
“For as long as your family and mine have shared Exum there had never been trouble between them. Until Royce Warrick came home from college, saw Rebecca Richards one morning, and decided he wanted her.”
He felt a small jolt at the sound of her mother’s maiden name. She was right; the Richards had been here as long as the Warricks. Their roots ran as deep and as wide.
“The only problem was Rebecca came from a family of farmers, not from a well-bred-well-wed family line. Royce knew it and understood he could never marry her. My mother knew it, as well. It all could have ended with bittersweet memories, a sort of young sweetheart, untouched feelings situation. But Royce decided she was the prettiest woman in the county, and since he was who he was, he deserved the best.”
Hale rolled his shoulders as what she’d said settled in. “Sounds like him.”
She was gracious enough not to nod in agreement. “He wanted to set her up in a little house just outside of Exum so he could visit her without anyone knowing. Momma said no. He told her he’d make sure her parents wouldn’t ever have money trouble again. She still told him no. He promised her he’d take care of her, set her up in style, make sure she’d never have to work. She still refused. He got angry, very angry, and threatened her. He told her he loved her and no one else would ever make her happy; he’d see to that. But she didn’t love him, not in the way that makes a marriage happy, makes it work. And he didn’t love her, not really. He was just obsessed. She tried to explain that to him but he wouldn’t listen. During that time, Royce got engaged to Cordelia and he hired one highly recommended Quinn Cooper to help refurbish the Warrick home. One day on his lunch break, my father saw my mother sitting in Wilson’s Diner and fell head over heels. When he came in and introduced himself, momma fell for him, too. A week later they eloped. Royce found out and was livid. After that he made it almost impossible for my parents to live here. I suppose it would have been easier for my mother to have sold the cabin and the land, but like I said, family roots run deep. And daddy loved it here, too. It didn’t save him from the Warrick wrath, though. It didn’t help him when he couldn’t find work, or when he had to leave for weeks at a time because his only jobs were out of state. Ultimately I suppose Royce got what he wanted. Daddy lost himself in drink; he did that himself, there’s no one else to blame. And when he got so lost he couldn’t find himself any more, he took a rope out to the woods and lost himself forever.”
Hale stared straight ahead, but he wasn’t seeing Maggie, or the living room, or even the trees outside the windows. He saw his father, grim faced and angry, always bitter, always claiming to be upset over the Cooper woman’s refusal to leave him alone. What Maggie was saying couldn’t be right. Yet somehow it made a sickening sort of sense.
His voice was rough with confusion when he spoke. “Those letters are your proof?”
She was gentle when she laid the notes beside her on the couch, the breadth of the paper enveloping the space between them. “They’re letters your father wrote to my mother. Letters she wrote in reply and that were returned with notes from Royce.”
He willed his hand to reach out but wasn’t able to make himself move. “You’re…you’re saying my father lied? That all these years he was lying to me, my brother, my mother, the entire county?”
“Pride can be an awful thing.”
Her statement, so simple and soft, was a hard truth. How many times had his father gone on about the family name? About the Warrick legacy? About the importance of their standing in the community? All that time Hale had agreed with him. They did owe a great deal to Exum and the people who made the town thrive. The Warricks had been an influence in Yates County for generations and had invested themselves in it. To Hale’s way of thinking that meant they had an obligation to be involved. If he believed what Maggie was saying, it meant that his father had thought of it in the opposite way: that the community, and the people in it, had somehow owed him. Or maybe it was that he had been desperate for Rebecca Cooper and hadn’t been able to let it go, up to the point of making her life a living hell.
“I’m going to try to salvage what I can of my garden," Maggie said quietly, "and then I’m going to make dinner. I’ll leave the letters. It’s up to you if you want to read them.”
She didn’t push, didn’t demand, and he had to admire that. If what she was saying was the truth, then she’d held it back all these years, lived with the barbs and the cruelty, carved a life for herself despite knowing all the animosity was built on a lie. The past few weeks he’d squarely insinuated himself into her life, and yet she hadn’t tossed this information into his face. It wasn’t until he’d demanded answers that she’d given him this. He couldn’t decide if that was a bad sign or not.
He heard the door close and realized he was alone. Casting weary eyes on the stack of envelopes, he slowly pulled the first one off the top and opened it.
Chapter Ten
Hale was reading when she came back inside. Maggie was careful to keep her movements easy and quiet, but he seemed so absorbed she wondered if anything would disturb him. She went upstairs and showered, changed into fresh jeans and her favorite, age-worn long sleeved peach T-shirt. The comfort of her ritual was like a balm to her jangled nerves. She brushed her damp hair and stared at her face in the mirror, saw the slight lines of anxiety still etched around her eyes and mouth.
She hadn’t meant to say anything to Hale. The facts of their parents’ involvement was something she’d thought she’d always keep to herself. Her crush on him withstanding, she hadn’t been able to imagine balancing out on the glass thin ridge of truth. There was too much for her to lose. She had planned to keep the secrets, to live the rest of her life without saying a word. She would have liked to say it was because of her mother’s wishes, the life she’d managed to make. But as long as she was facing blatant truths there was one she’d been avoiding almost her whole life. One that had come home to roost.
She hadn’t said a word because she hadn’t wanted to see the wounded look on Hale’s rugged face. She hadn’t wanted to be the one to break his heart.
When she made her way back downstairs, she kept her movements quiet and gentle. He was still reading, completely ensconced on the couch, surrounded by open letters. She didn’t say a word as she donned her apron, washed and sliced vegetables and put the rice and cheese casserole into the oven. She took the salmon out of the refrigerator and turned, nearly jumping out of her skin when she realized Hale had sat down on one of the barstools. He wasn’t staring at her but was looking at the scene outside the kitchen window, his arms resting on the countertop.
Taking a deep breath, Maggie continued her work, rubbing the fish with spices, folding them into small aluminum foil pouches along with the vegetables and lemon. He didn’t speak until she had finished washing her hands.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” The words were soft, as if he was afraid to speak too loudly.
She shrugged as she untied the apron. “What difference would it have made?”
His brow knit and his dark, glinting eyes turned to her. “A hell of a lot of difference. All these years everyone accused your mother of being a tramp. They called your father a shoddy workman with no talent.”
“And we knew better.”
“Exactly. You just sat up here on your mountain, living like a martyr. Did you enjoy it? Sitting up here and laughing at how foolish everyone was?” His tone was curious but even, belying the anger his fisted hands conveyed as they rested on the granite countertop.
She hung the apron on the hook o
f the pantry door with deliberate movements. “It wasn’t like that, Hale. I would have liked nothing better than to have exposed your father for the liar he was. I hated him for years, hated what I’d seen him do to my parents, hated what he tried to do to me. I didn’t even know about the letters until I was in college. By then the damage was too extensive, and my mother was too frail for me to start a knock down drag out with your parents and all their influence and money.”
“You could have come to me.”
She gave him a sad smile. “Why? You weren’t even living here when Momma finally showed them to me. But you think I should have tracked you down, made an appointment, hoped you would deign to see a Cooper? Shown you what I had so you could…what? Be my savior?”
His jaw clenched for a moment, then eased as he exhaled one long breath. “I could have helped you.”
Despite everything, she felt a deep river of sympathy course through her and lodge in her heart. She rested her hands beside his on the counter as she replied gently. “While Momma and your father were alive, it wasn’t a situation for us to fix. Sure, I could have taken those letters and shown them to your mother. I could have flashed them all over town, stood on the street corner and yelled out what they said. I could have even taken out a full page ad in the Exum Sentinel. But your father would have just sued me and called me a liar while your mother claimed the notes were forged. And she’d have had a dozen experts backing her allegations.”
He didn’t try to refute what she said. His body suddenly relaxed as if accepting defeat and he reached out to take her hand. She didn’t fight him when he laced his fingers with hers. It felt good, right somehow, to be linked to him in so easy a way. To take comfort in the secret that they both now shared.
“I hate myself for believing what my father told me. I hate it because it meant that your life was harder than it should have been. I hate it even more because it kept me from seeing you, really seeing you, until now.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips. “These letters change everything.”
