Strawberry Hill
Page 10
“A stay in the hospital, at least.”
“What I remember most about that night—at least at a gut-deep level—is how safe I felt as you backed out of that driveway. It was far less frightening to sleep in our car at the beach, even though it was dark and scary there, than it had been to sleep at home in our beds that night. I knew you wouldn’t let him hurt Brody again. That you wouldn’t let him hurt any of us.” Her cheek dimpled in a lopsided smile, and her eyes shimmered with tears, making them look almost forest green. “As a mother, I’ve remembered that night many times. You’ve been my template, the person I’ve always tried to emulate. You truly were the best mom ever.”
Vickie closed her eyes. “Thank you for telling me that. I should never have married your father. I never loved him. I was honest with him about that. He said he loved me enough for both of us and that I’d get over Slade in time. He promised to take care of me and the baby. Said Brody never needed to know his real father didn’t want him. I was still young enough to believe in fairy tales, I guess. And I was desperate. It was a rough pregnancy. I got too sick to work. Couldn’t pay my bills. Marrying Matthew Brown seemed like a better option than running home to my parents and facing the shame of being pregnant with Slade Wilder’s unwanted child.”
“Tell me about him. What makes you believe he wanted nothing to do with his son? No foul, no blame, Mom. Just tell me the truth.”
“Slade didn’t know I was pregnant when I left Mystic Creek. I didn’t know it myself. But I notified him by letter when I realized I was carrying his child. That was before I even knew the sex of my baby. Back then, ultrasounds to determine the gender of the fetus were not commonly used everywhere. All I knew for sure was that I was knocked up and scared to death.” She held her daughter’s gaze for a prolonged moment. “Before I knew I was with child, I’d gotten a job cooking in a little greasy spoon, and I was skating by. So sick that I spent half the breakfast rush in the bathroom, puking. I had no clue what was wrong with me until the boss’s wife finally asked if I might be pregnant. I don’t know when home pregnancy tests came available, but if they were around then, I didn’t know about them. I went straight to a doctor, and sure enough, I was PG. Within a week, my boss canned me. He needed a fry cook, and as good as I was at my job, I burned more stuff than I managed to serve because I was upchucking so much of the time. Just the smell of the food made me gag. It was awful. So there I suddenly was without a job. The morning sickness got better of an afternoon. I was looking for a night shift position somewhere when I met Matt. He was a rough-and-tumble logger. He never drank in front of me until after we got married.”
“And you thought he was your knight in shining armor?”
“I couldn’t even afford groceries, and I was behind on my rent. I knew I’d soon be out on the street. I was inches away from going back home to face the music when Matt proposed to me. He wanted to be my knight in shining armor, and I definitely needed rescuing.” Vickie spread her hands. “I was naive. I look back and wonder how I could have thought Matt was everything he pretended to be. Within six months, I was heavy with child and married to a drunk with a horrible temper.”
“Did he ever beat you up, Mom?”
“Once. It was shortly after Brody was born. He came home and found me writing a fourth letter to Slade, that time with a picture of Brody to send with it so Slade could see with his own eyes that he truly was his son. Matt thought I wanted to get back together with Slade. That wasn’t the case at all. But I did feel obligated to make sure he knew he had a child. Not so much because I felt I owed it to Slade, but I definitely thought I owed it to Brody.”
“How badly did he beat you up?”
“Bad enough that I could barely walk the next day, but I swore to him that I would leave if he ever struck me again and he took me at my word. He was never violent with me again. Until he went after Brody, that is. And then I left him, got him arrested for child abuse, and filed for divorce.”
Nancy finished off her whiskey, grabbed both their glasses, and stepped over to the counter to get them each a refill. “We’re having a spur-of-the-moment girls’ day. Mother and daughter, getting drunk on their butts.”
“Before I get drunk, V. L. Brown needs to email Slade Wilder and tell him she’s changed her mind about taking that job. I’m supposed to be at the Strawberry Hill trailhead tomorrow afternoon to help get camp set up.”
“Give it a few minutes and one more drink. Let’s talk about it first.”
Vickie couldn’t see what else there was to talk about, but the small amount of liquor that she’d gotten down hadn’t stopped her hands from shaking yet, and she’d never gotten tipsy with her daughter. Maybe it would be therapeutic. “Okay. Bring the bottle.”
Nancy tucked the whiskey jug under her arm in order to carry both partially filled glasses. As she served Vickie and resumed her seat, she said, “I’ve never sipped straight whiskey. It’s not bad.”
“You’re a Granger. Most of us like our whiskey straight.” Vickie felt such a sense of relief to have that huge secret off her chest. She’d carried it around for so long that it felt liberating to have at least told her daughter. “It’s funny with kids. Brody took after Slade. He’s a Wilder to the marrow of his bones, that boy. Then Randall came along, and he took after the Browns. They’re good people, and I got Randall away from Matt before any of his bad traits could rub off on him. You popped out with my auburn hair. You grew to look more like me with every passing day. Now when I look at you, it’s like seeing a younger version of myself in a mirror. You’re slightly built, just like me, all red hair, big green eyes, and stubborn chin.”
“You loved Slade Wilder,” Nancy said softly. “I see it in your eyes every time you say his name.”
“Oh, yes, I loved him. In that deep, trusting, and all-encompassing way that only young girls and foolish women can love. He meant everything to me.”
“So tell me about him.”
Vickie drew up her shoulders and then relaxed. “We rode the same school bus, and I met him the day I entered first grade. In Mystic Creek, mothers didn’t go with children on the first day of school. Everybody knew everybody, or almost.” The memories made her smile. “My hair was wildly curly, just like yours, so Mama braided it into pigtails, and of course Slade, being a second-grade boy, couldn’t resist tugging on them, never hard enough to hurt, just enough to irritate me. But somehow I knew he was flirting with me, even though I had no idea what flirting was at that age. Inborn feminine wisdom, I guess. He liked me, and I thought he was the cutest boy in school.”
“Apparently you still thought so years later.”
“Oh, yeah. The older he got, the better-looking he got. But you asked to hear the story.”
“Yes. Do tell.”
“On picture day in the first grade, I had to wear a dress. Mama went all out making it. Lots of frills and lace. The only time I ever had to wear dresses—we lived on a farm, remember—was to church on Sunday. I hated going to school in that stupid dress that day. The lace on my collar and sleeves made me itch. When I tried to run on the playground, the skirt snaked around my legs. I was a tomboy, probably because Daddy had no other kids and let me ride shotgun with him all over the farm. Anyway, I got on the swings with my little girlfriends. It never occurred to me that my dress might flutter up in a rush of wind. A boy named Sammy Suitor saw my panties and yelled what color they were to all the other boys. The next thing I knew, Slade was on him, arms whirling like windmill blades in a high wind. Before a teacher could get there, Sammy was crying and Slade was making him eat dirt. From that day on, he became my protector and my friend.”
“Aw.”
Vickie savored a sip of the liquor. “I’m not sure when our feelings for each other started to run deeper. Definitely by the time I was in junior high, but Slade didn’t take things to a romantic level with me even then. I think he was waiting for me to grow up. I was a so
phomore the first time he really kissed me. When I say really, I mean more than a peck.” Vickie sighed. “I swear, I heard bells ringing and fireworks going off.”
“Uh-oh. And you managed to avoid pregnancy until you were, what, twenty-one? That’s a miracle.”
Vickie shook her head. “We didn’t go all the way. Back then, and in a small town like Mystic Creek, nice girls didn’t put out. Slade respected my parents. He knew my father trusted him. He always drew back before either of us reached a point of no return. Until he asked me to marry him, that is. The moment I said yes and he put that diamond on my finger, all his restraint went out the window. He never got off his knees. He got the ring on my finger and then pulled me down beside him. I lost my virginity under a pine tree.”
“Was it the first time for him, too?”
Vickie shook her head. “He didn’t ask me to go steady until I was a junior. He was a senior. He’d had girlfriends along the way, and though I never asked, I know he’d been with others that way before he made love to me.” She shrugged. “He wasn’t clumsy or uncertain. I’ll put it that way.”
“My first time was horrible. Steve Sharp. Remember him?” Nancy grinned and rolled her eyes. “Talk about clumsy and awkward. I thought I’d die from the pain and never be the same. And that night after I got home—well, you’ll never know how close you came to rushing me to the ER. I was bleeding and thought I had internal injuries.”
Vickie cringed. “You were only fourteen when you liked Steve! I had no idea!”
Nancy took another sip of whiskey. “I stayed away from boys for a while after that. And then I met Brad. I was so terrified to have sex again that I wouldn’t even kiss him on our first few dates. When Brad finally convinced me to trust him, he made sure I was ready and it didn’t hurt.”
“Well, I’m glad he was careful with you,” Vickie said. “When I kill him for touching my daughter that way, I’ll make it quick and merciful to show my appreciation.”
Nancy didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile. “I got a happy ending with my first love. I wish you’d been as lucky.”
Vickie shrugged again. “They say women never forget their first love. Slade was my only love. I tried to love your father. I truly did, even though he didn’t make that easy. But what began as fondness for him and a fervent hope that we’d be happy together deteriorated day by day, until all I felt for him was disgust.” Passing a hand over her eyes, Vickie shook her head. “I can’t believe I just said that. I’ve tried so hard never to talk badly about your dad. Now I’m bad-mouthing him like no tomorrow.”
“Mom, let it go. There’s nothing bad you can say about that man that we don’t already think ourselves. Besides, the man is dead and gone. He alone is responsible for the legacy of dislike that he left his children. He never once called on our birthdays or sent us a token gift. Christmas after Christmas went by without a word from him. Never tried to see us. Didn’t care whether you were managing to keep the wolves away from our door. Never showed up when the boys had games or competitions or for my dance recitals. We meant nothing to him. You can’t make a derogatory statement about our father that he didn’t make himself with his actions.” Nancy grabbed the bottle and sloshed more booze into their glasses. “And enough about him. Judging by what you’ve told me about Slade Wilder, I think he thought you were pretty special, too. What happened to break you up? It’s such a romantic story. It reminds me of that George Strait song, ‘Check Yes or No.’ Two little kids, falling in love. Granted, an immature love back then, but it lasted, and eventually it became the real deal. Real enough for him to ask you to marry him. How did everything go south?”
“He was unfaithful.” Vickie’s heart ached again, just from saying it aloud. “It was a week before our wedding. Only a week! Mama had made my gown. She’d worked for weeks on the table decorations. Daddy had been fitted for a suit. You know all the folderol that takes place right before a wedding. Parties, too. Slade competed in a lot of rodeos and had cowboy friends. They decided to throw him a bachelor party. I didn’t go. I didn’t think girls went to bachelor parties. Slade got drunk. At least that’s what I’ve always surmised. He had sex with a girl named April Pierce.”
“How did you find out?”
“She couldn’t wait to tell me. She’d had a crush on him forever. She figured I’d break up with him when I found out. She was right. I may have been young and naive, but I wasn’t stupid enough to marry a man who couldn’t keep his Wranglers zipped when he was around other women.”
“Did you confront him?”
“Of course I confronted him. And of course he denied it. He said he danced with her one time, nothing more.”
“Maybe nothing more happened. If that April gal had the hots for him, she might have lied.”
Vickie shook her head. “Nope. He has a birthmark on one buttock, a birthmark she couldn’t have known existed unless his britches were down around his knees. When she described the mark, down to a T, I knew she had to be telling the truth. He’d been with her that night. Even worse, he’d come directly from that party to me. We made love. Can you imagine how degraded and humiliated I felt when I found out I was his second lay of the evening?”
“What did he say in his own defense?”
“That he never touched her that way. He got huffy with me, said I was questioning his word, calling him a liar.” Vickie made finger quotation marks. “He said ‘my word is my honor’ and expected me to just believe him.”
“What did he say when you told him she described his birthmark?”
“I never brought that up. I was devastated. Sobbing. I could barely talk, and he was clearly guilty. She’d seen his bare ass, after all.” Vickie tipped her glass, staring into the amber liquid that angled sharply inside the tumbler. “I might have forgiven him. If only he’d confessed. Said he was drunk. That it would never happen again. But he never said any of that. He stuck to his story that he’d only danced with her, and when I kept asking him to please tell me the truth, he just got madder and madder.” Vickie met her daughter’s gaze. “How can you forgive someone if they refuse to ask for forgiveness?”
“Oh, Mom.” Nancy looked as if she were about to cry. “I’m so sorry he hurt you so deeply.”
“He didn’t just hurt me. I felt as if he’d gutted me and ripped my heart out. I ended it between us that night. He accepted it. His expression was—well, stony is the only way to describe it. Unrelenting as well. Like he was the injured party. He just let me walk away! No following me. No trying to talk me out of it. He just stood there and watched me go. If he truly loved me, I mean really loved me, wouldn’t he have fought harder than that to convince me he was innocent? Or changed his story and begged me to give him another chance?”
Nancy took her turn staring into the liquor. “And then when you notified him twice of Brody’s existence, he just didn’t respond? At that point, I would have been calling him a dozen times a day.”
“Actually, I notified him by letter four times, but I couldn’t call him. People didn’t have cell phones back then. Long-distance calls were charged by the minute. People without much money said their piece as fast as they could to get off the line. One second over a minute, and you got charged for two, and so forth. I didn’t have as much as a nickel to call him from a phone booth. Calling collect would have meant asking one of his parents to accept the charges. I was afraid they’d say no. Just buying stamps was difficult for me to afford. After I was with Matt, things got better, but not by much. He handled the money and, unbeknownst to me then, spent a goodly share of his paychecks on alcohol. He drove me to the store and let me buy groceries. And we could pay the rent and utilities. We didn’t get a phone at our house for well over a year.”
“So Slade had every opportunity to acknowledge his son. You’re certain of that.”
“Well, yes, pretty darned certain. How could four letters to him get lost in the mail?”
“Nope.” Vickie finished off her whiskey. “I think I’m getting drunk.”
“Do you care?”
“Not really.”
“Me, either. It’s not every day I have such a revealing heart-to-heart with my mother. I’ll drink all I want and call Brad to take me home. I’ve held his head enough times while he worshipped the porcelain god. It’s his turn.”
Vickie smiled. “You’ve got a good man in Brad. I’m so thankful for that. Maybe I raised you to be a better judge of character than I am. A two-time loser, that’s me.”
Nancy spent a moment making invisible doodles on the table with her fingertip. “So, just so I understand all of this clearly, why did you jump on the idea of taking a job with Slade this morning?”
Vickie wasn’t sure she could explain what she didn’t completely understand herself. “I wanted to do it for Brody.”
“How would your seeing Slade again make any difference for Brody? Is he rich or something?”
Vickie shook her head. “Not rich, exactly. But he’s got to be well-heeled. The ranch alone has to be worth several million now. It’s a big spread, all of it prime ranchland. But it doesn’t boil down to just money, Nancy. From the time Brody was little, he loved horses. For his second birthday, I got him one of those little broom-handle ponies, and he rode that silly thing everywhere. He was still galloping around the house on it when he turned five. All he ever wanted was to have his own horse and be involved in western-style equestrian sports. I couldn’t afford that. Brody was born to be a horseman. I think it’s in his blood. But there was no way I could help him pursue that dream. I saved back as much as I could for each of you to attend college. Brody took his tuition money and put a down payment on that dilapidated farm he has now. Bought a horse. To this day, it’s all about the land and the horses. He’s so much like his father that it’s sometimes difficult for me to believe that he’s never even met Slade Randall Wilder.”