by Kris Calvert
A grave had been opened for Robert Holloway, the dirt now piled to the side and covered in fresh sod. The headstone next to his read, Mary Winterbourne Holloway. Loving wife and mother. Strength and honor are her clothing and she shall rejoice in time to come. Proverbs 31:25.
“Cecil, I’ve never known a man who worshipped his mother as much as Win.” Emotion hung tight in my throat and I found it hard to speak. “And that’s saying a lot. My father was killed when I was only four, and my mother died when I was fifteen. My brother and I were raised by my mom’s sister. We loved our parents, of course we did. But through lots of therapy and the support of our family, we came out of it on the other side stronger people. It wasn’t the same for Win.”
“No,” Cee Cee sighed. “Now that his father has died the same way his mother did, I worry it will bring up a lot of old wounds that have never healed.”
Brushing a tear from my cheek, I looked to Cecil. “What kind of old wounds? You mean the idea he never dealt with her death?”
“Nah, the fact that he blames himself.”
“Why would he do that?” I asked. “He was only a child.”
Cecil walked away from me and I followed. Stopping, he was stoic at the foot of another grave—Priscilla Montgomery Winterbourne. “She was my everything. She was my whole world. You remind me of her,” he said. “My wife—Priscilla. She was tough. Wouldn’t take anything off of me or anyone else. She made me a better person. In fact, she took a bull-headed, smart-aleck boy who thought he knew everything and turned him into a man.”
“That sounds oddly familiar.”
“I’m sure it does.”
I looked to the graceful old gentleman, the sun setting behind him. If ever there was an awe-inspiring scene, it was ninety-four-year-old Cecil Winterbourne standing in the middle of his family’s history in the waving banner of a glorious pink and purple sunset. “Why did you bring me here, Cecil?”
For the first time since we got in the golf cart he looked at me—really looked at me. His green eyes blazed, just like his grandson’s and I knew he was serious. “I know he’s put you through hell, Ginny. I’m sure of it. Just know there’s a lot behind all that petty fear and uncertainty. He’s a fine man. His mother would’ve been proud of him.”
I felt the tears well uncontrollably in my eyes. I couldn’t hold back the rush of emotion or the pain Cee Cee was palpating deep in my heart. “Cecil.” My voice shook as fat teardrops fell in muted plinks across my shirt. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want him. I did. He didn’t want me. He told me on no uncertain terms. And then he did things to hurt me on purpose—to make sure I knew he didn’t want me.”
Cecil slowly shook his head. “I never said he was smart, Ginny. I said he was a fine man.”
I laughed through my tears. “I’ll give you that.”
“Just think about giving him another chance. He’s gonna need someone real bad after he buries his dad, and not because he loved him so much, but because now there’s only more unresolved heartache inside him. I’m not asking you to marry him—although you’d be my choice—I’m asking you to—”
“To what? Help him through this?”
“No darlin’. Sometimes a man’s ego won’t allow him to go to the places that could destroy him. Win’s about to head down that road whether he wants to or not. Take pity on him. He loves you something awful. He just doesn’t know how to show it—because no one ever showed him.”
The tears flowed like hot lava down my wind-burned cheeks, stinging my skin. “You honestly think he loves me? Still?”
Cee Cee nodded. “You’re the one. I know it. Hell even he knows it—and it scares the bejeezus out of him. You’re gonna have to help him limp along until he can stand on his own two feet and love you like you deserve to be loved.”
“Not to sound selfish,” I said, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “But I’ve spent a lot of time and money in therapy over Win. What’s the guarantee he won’t do the exact same thing again?”
“You’re speakin’ the truth, no doubt about it, but what I wanna ask you is this: do you think the love you share with Win is true? Do you feel it all the way down to your God-given soul?”
I paused, but I really didn’t need to think about it. He was the only man I’d ever loved. Being with Win felt right, right from the start. “You’re asking if it’s true love—if I think he’s my soul mate?”
Cecil nodded.
I didn’t want to respond. I knew the answer, and it was the reason my heart ached for so long after he told me goodbye. “Yes.”
“Then don’t deprive yourself of something as wonderful as true love. Priscilla and I shared it, and I thank God for it every day.”
“Did Robert and Mary shared it?”
Cee Cee scratched his head. “She thought she did, but I blame myself and Robert’s father for most of that.”
“Why?”
“Well, everyone was so riled up about a Winterbourne finally marrying a Holloway we forgot the most important thing.”
“True love?” I asked in a whisper.
He nodded. “That’s my cross to bear now that Mary’s gone. It’s part of the reason I want to make sure Win gets it right.”
“I understand. I do. I can’t promise I’m capable of trying again, but I can promise I will give it more than just serious consideration.”
“Fair enough.” He held his hand out for me to shake, then pulled me in for a tight bear hug.
“You know, Plato said love is a serious mental disease,” Cee Cee said.
“Then I guess I’m insane.”
“We all are, sweetheart. We all are.”
In the quiet background of the ending day, I heard another cart whine to a stop in front of the chapel.
Cee Cee and I walked from the cemetery, my arm wrapped around his—his hand on my mine.
Coming into our view was Win, now out of his suit and dressed in his farm khakis, boots and a starched button down. I watched him move toward us and thought of everything Cecil Winterbourne had just said to me. It was hard not to give Win Holloway serious consideration. He was the kind of man women dreamt of being with.
“What are you two doing way out here?” Win asked.
“I was just giving Ginny Grace a tour, but I’m starting to have a sinking spell. Do you mind to take her back to the house when you go?”
“Of course. Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe we should all go back to the house.” Win’s concern was obvious.
“I’m fine. I’m just old. This is what happens when you’ve got one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel.”
“Cee Cee,” Win grumbled. “Did you have to say that here of all places?”
“Ha!” he scoffed. “This is the best place to say it—where they’re all waitin’ on me to show up. Now, I’m gonna get. Don’t be too long. Vernon’s making dinner and he’ll get his panties in a wad if y’all are late.”
“Cee Cee,” Win began. “I can’t promise—”
“Son,” he replied, cutting him off. “Don’t be late.”
I smiled at Cee Cee, my hand still nestled inside his gentleman’s arm and in return he gave me a wink when Win wasn’t looking.
“Thanks again for the tour, Cee Cee.”
Giving my fingers a squeeze, he left me with four words. “My pleasure, Ginny Grace.”
14
WIN
I watched my grandfather ride off on his golf cart into the setting sun and turned back to Ginny. Lit by the ambience of dusk, I didn’t know if I’d ever seen her look more beautiful. I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her. But I knew it was going to be a slow journey home to her affection. “What was that all about?”
“Cee Cee just wanted to show me Winter Haven,” she replied, a slight chill overtaking her body.
“You’re cold,” I stated without asking.
“A little maybe.”
I turned to walk back to the golf cart and she followed closely. “I think there’s a jacket in here some
where. If not, I’m gonna have to give you the shirt off my back.”
Opening the bench seat of the cart, I pulled out a dark green zip up fleece with the Winter Bourbon logo on the breast. Turning, I found her right on top me. “Oh,” I said, surprised to have her in such close proximity. “There you are. I thought I’d lost you.”
She shook her head no.
Throwing the jacket around her shoulders, I took the opportunity to pull her in for a tight hug. “This will warm you up fast.”
“You or the jacket?” She mumbled her question into my chest.
“Yes.” I replied.
Pulling away, she slid her arms into the fleece and looked up at me. What was left of the daylight sparkled in her eyes.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked.
I swallowed the knot in my throat. “I’m giving the eulogy for this thing tomorrow.”
“And by this thing you mean your father’s funeral?”
I nodded.
“How’d you end up with that job?” she asked, taking a step back. “Wait, let me guess—Lena.”
I pursed my lips and nodded again.
Shoving her hands into the pockets of her well-fitting jeans, I wanted her body close to me. Only when she was in my arms did I feel like a human being. The rest of the time I merely walked around with a vacant soul—hollow on the inside like an empty well.
“Why come out here?” Ginny looked to the graves of my family. “Were you looking for inspiration or something?”
I dropped my shoulders. “I don’t really know. I haven’t been out here in years. Guess I never really felt like any of my family was really here. You know?”
“My parents were each cremated. There’s no cemetery to visit. We released their ashes where they honeymooned.”
I turned to her. “Yeah? Where was that?”
“Lake Cumberland, Kentucky. It’s not special, just special to them. They didn’t have much when they were first married.”
“What do you need besides love? My parents had everything when they got married and look what it did for them.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “Your parents were happy. Right?”
I shook my head. “Not really.” Taking her hand in mine, I led her to the front doors of the chapel. Pulling the old set of keys from the pocket of my coat, I searched for the one skeleton key that would fit the two-hundred-year old lock.
“Wow, those are old,” she remarked, eyeing the heavy one I’d chosen as it lay in the palm of my hand. “The only reason I know this is the right one, is because it’s the biggest.”
The warded lock moaned as I turned the key, releasing the door from its frame with a crack.
“How old is this place?” Ginny asked, stepping in before me.
“A little over two hundred years. It was here before my great-great-grandfather bought the property. It’s just a little backwoods church used by settlers in the eighteen hundreds. Crazy huh?” Stepping in, I closed the door behind us.
The stained glass windows were rudimentary but beautiful, and the light that was now fading, still colorful. The ancient holy place smelled of candle wax and aging artifacts. There was only one smell I’d ever encountered that was similar—the rare book collection at the New York City Public Library. I chalked it up to the old hymnals and the years of humid summers and frigid winters expanding and contracting the hand-hewn beams that held it together for nearly two centuries. The chapel aged like the bourbon at Winter Haven—perfectly. Looking around, it was wholly apparent the congregation that built it had done so with loving care. That same TLC had been used for generations to preserve its heritage.
“This place will be packed tomorrow for the funeral.” It was obvious the florist had been there earlier as there were yellow roses in large buckets sitting at the front of the altar.
“The funeral will be here?”
“Yup. Family tradition. Even though he’s not a Winterbourne, he married one, and like the others—including my mother—he’ll be buried here. I’m sure they’ve already dug the grave.”
Ginny pulled her eyes from inspecting the old church back to me. “They have. Cee Cee and I were just there.”
I nodded. “He visits my grandmother. She died when I was a little kid. I don’t really remember her, but I’ve seen all the pictures. She was very pretty and according to my grandfather, a firecracker.”
“Yeah. He told me the same thing.”
I took a seat in one of the middle benches and slid over, patting the old wood for Ginny to join me.
“It’s going to get dark in here soon, Win.”
Sliding my arm around her, I pulled her close before placing it across the back of the ancient pew. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
We sat in silence for a moment and I thought of the task ahead of me—writing a kind eulogy without allowing my years of distrust and animosity to shine through. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my emotions and felt Ginny snuggle into my neck, leaning her head on my shoulder.
Without hesitation, I wrapped my arm around her, kissing the top of her head.
“I know you don’t like your family very much, Win,” Ginny began. “But I have to tell you something.”
“What’s that?” I asked in a whisper.
“Your grandfather might be one of the wisest men I’ve ever met. Your sister…well.”
“She isn’t stable.” I knew it was true and I didn’t want Ginny to have to dance around the subject.
“But I think her heart is in the right place,” Ginny replied. “Everyone here loves you. I guess I just don’t understand why you feel about it the way you do.”
Gently, I moved her long hair from her shoulder, brushing the strays from her face. The tight bun she’d worn earlier for business was gone. “It’s a long story.”
“I’m a really good listener.”
With a heavy sigh, I began. “When my mother died, my father was having an affair. I don’t know with whom, I don’t know for how long, but he was.”
“How, at ten years old, did you discern this?”
“I overheard him on the phone with his mistress. Telling her he couldn’t wait to see her. Saying he wanted to—” I stopped myself. I hadn’t spoken of it since the shrink my father made me see after the murder told me to keep it to myself and not air the family’s dirty laundry.
“Go on. You know anything you say is safe with me.”
“Really?” I puffed. “You’re investigating a murder in my house. How are you safe?”
“I’ll take myself off the investigation if you want me to.”
I shook my head. “No. I’d rather you see the dirty underbelly than some guy from the office who’ll talk about it behind my back.”
“So?”
“So what?” I asked.
“What did you hear your father say?”
“He told her he wanted to…” I paused. “He told her he was going to fuck her so hard he would split her in half.”
Ginny remained silent, snuggling back into my neck even tighter.
“See? I told you.”
“So your dad was having an affair and he liked to talk dirty,” she said, trying to act unaffected. “Did your mom know?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. It was a lot for my ten-year-old brain to process. He was supposed to worship my mother—like I did. I burst into the library that night and told him I hated him—and I was going to tell Mom.”
“What happened?”
I looked around the chapel, now blue with the rising moon. The windows once draped in warm light, were now filed with shadows—just like my head.
“Win, tell me.”
I hadn’t been to the dark place in my mind for a long time. And yet, there it was bubbling to the surface as I sat in the building where I’d need to praise the very man who beat the shit out of me in a day’s time. “He hit me. He punched me in the face, tossed me into the bookcase and dislocated my shoulder. He left the house, slamming the front
door behind him. I ran to tell my mother,” I said, my voice cracking as I began to relive the night in vivid detail. “When I opened the door to her room, I could see Magnus with her—in the sitting room off the master bedroom. I knew I couldn’t tell on my dad with Magnus there. I knew better. Family business was for family. Magnus was around a lot, but to me, he wasn’t family. I left her room without them even knowing I’d been there.”
“What was Magnus doing in her bedroom?” Ginny asked.
“He wasn’t in her bedroom. He was in the sitting room. There’s a bar, a small library—it’s really just another parlor that happens to be off their suite. Besides, Magnus grew up in the house as much as my mom did. They were like best friends from the time they were little.”
“What do you mean?”
“His mom was a cook for the Winterbourne family—that is until she got sick. She died when he was in high school, I think.”
“She was a cook here?”
I nodded and watched the wheels turn in her head.
“When you decided not to tell your mom, what did you do?”
“I went to look for Cee Cee, but I couldn’t find him. Finally, I gave up and went to bed—my shoulder was killing me. I was in too much pain to sleep, so when I heard her scream, I rushed to find her. She died in my arms.”
The cool touch of Ginny’s hand on my face brought me out of the flashback. I took a deep breath and shook off the vision of my mother bleeding out in my hands.
“I’m so sorry, Win.”
“Yeah, well. I blame myself. For all of it.”
Ginny sat up and faced me in the darkened church. “Why would you say that?”
Giving my shoulders a slight shrug, I pursed my lips. “Look, if I hadn’t fought with my father, he wouldn’t have stormed out that night. He would’ve been in the house when it was robbed—and maybe he could’ve saved my mother. It may sound harsh, but I grew up wishing my dad was murdered that night. Not my mom.”
“It’s not harsh. You were ten, the man beat you. How did you explain the dislocated shoulder to the adults?”
“It wasn’t just the shoulder. I had a black eye,” I said. “I told them I fell down the marble steps when I saw my mother. It was easy to believe with everything else going on.”
