It was quiet as her mother looked at her — really looked at her, not the way she had when we first got to the house, but as her daughter. Her eyes took in Mallory’s swelling belly, and then she covered her mouth as tears flooded her eyes.
“This is business, Mary,” Patrick said to her dismissively. “We’ll be done soon, I assure you.”
“No.”
It was one, simple word, but when it came from that little woman’s lips, it felt like an earthquake.
Mary looked so much like Mallory, or maybe it was Mallory who looked like her. The angle of their eyes, the slope of their noses, the pinch between their eyebrows as they watched each other in that room. Mary was shorter than Mallory, and her hair was a dark brown where Mallory’s was naturally a dirty blonde. But it was there, the resemblance, and it was almost like they’d just noticed it in that moment, too.
I’d rarely heard Mary speak in all the years I’d known her. She was soft and quiet, always standing behind her husband and smiling, playing her part.
But in that moment, she stood on her own — for maybe the first time.
I felt it.
Everyone in that room did.
“Enough,” she repeated, shaking her head. “I’ve had enough. Of your lies, your corruption, your… power trips. This is our daughter, Patrick.” She pointed at Mallory like her husband must have forgotten that fact. “She’s pregnant. We’re going to be grandparents. And whether you like it or not, Logan is the father, and that means the Beckers are our family, too.”
“They most certainly are not,” Patrick argued.
“We have to make this right!” she screamed back at him, shaking her head. “I never knew… not for sure. I always wondered, but I never questioned you about that night.” She looked as if she’d seen a ghost. “That’s me, right? Always content to sit back and let you run the show, to tell me what part to play. But… I heard everything just now,” she confessed. “Everything, Pat. And I swear to God that I will testify against you if you do not make this right.”
Patrick’s mask crumbled a little at that, and he seemed genuinely surprised and hurt as he stared back at his wife. “Mary…”
“No, don’t even try,” she said, holding up her finger. “I love you, Patrick Scooter, but I will not watch anyone suffer any longer, paying the price of a scorned man who never got over his first love rejecting him.”
Patrick’s face drained at her words, and the rest of us exchanged confused looks.
“Oh, they don’t know that side of the story, do they, sweetheart?” Mary asked, and she seemed to be growing a bit of a backbone right before our eyes.
“That’s enough,” he warned her, but she was on a roll now.
“He was in love with your mother,” she said to Noah, to Logan, but her eyes avoided mine. “All through high school.”
“Mary,” Patrick warned again, his voice climbing.
“But Laurelei saw Patrick as a friend. She always had. And when she and your father fell in love, it drove Patrick mad.”
Mallory watched her dad like she didn’t know him at all. “Is that true?”
He didn’t answer. His eyes were murderous as he watched his wife betray him.
“Oh, it’s true,” Mary answered for him. “Believe me. As the woman who loved him, watching him love her was a heartbreak I’ll never forget. Laurelei was my best friend,” she said, her eyes blurring with tears, and I thought back to the night she was on my mom’s porch. “I knew he liked her, but I didn’t realize how bad it was until she rejected him.”
“That’s why I saw all those pictures of you with Laurelei when you were younger,” Mallory whispered, shaking her head. “You weren’t just friends. You loved her.”
“He wouldn’t let it go when she turned him down,” Mary continued. “Why? Because of all the men she could have fell in love with, she fell for John Becker — the sacred little barrel boy Patrick’s father loved more than his own sons.”
“He was a liar, and a brat, and a disrespectful little shit and he didn’t deserve her!” Patrick cried out, slamming his fist on the table. “He didn’t deserve her,” he echoed again. “And he damn sure didn’t deserve half of my grandfather’s company.”
“Which is exactly why you told our family lawyer to never speak of your father’s Will, isn’t it? Because he had one, and you knew what was in it, and you paid everyone off who you needed to in order to keep that a secret.”
Mary was fuming, and the rest of us could only watch, wide-eyed.
“I wouldn’t have done what I did if it hadn’t been for you, you lying bitch, and you know it!” Patrick fired back, and then to everyone’s shock, he pointed a finger at me. “Because of him.”
The silence that fell over us was sticky and wet, but it lasted only a split second before his finger was on his wife, again.
“I told you to get rid of him, but you couldn’t do that, could you? No. You couldn’t part with your bastard child, so you took him to Laurelei. To my Laurelei. And to him, to John fucking Becker, to the one man you knew I hated. You told them our biggest secret and left me forever in debt to him. It’s because of you that I hated him so much. It’s because of you that I did what I did to get rid of him.”
Mary’s bottom lip was trembling, a tear staining her cheek, but she held her head high, returning her husband’s gaze before she finally looked at me for the first time that night.
When she did, my heart leapt into my throat.
“What is he talking about?” I asked. At least, I thought I did. The voice that came from me didn’t sound like my own. It sounded distant, like it was in another universe altogether.
“Jordan, I am so sorry you had to find out like this. I never intended to tell you at all,” she said, her voice shaking, face crumbling. I swore she shrunk seven inches in that single moment.
“Tell me what?”
Sydney reached for my hand, grabbing it in hers with a squeeze, but I couldn’t look away from Mary as my pulse continued to race.
“I’m your mother, Jordan.”
She whispered the words, or else the beating of my heart in my ears was so loud I registered it as a whisper. Either way, I said nothing in return, but I felt my brothers watching me closely with bent brows.
“I… God, I am so sorry to tell you this way,” she said, sniffing back the tears pooling in her eyes. “I was lonely, upset, betrayed by Patrick and his undying love for Laurelei. And I am as ashamed to admit it today as I was ashamed to engage in it then, but… I cheated on Pat.”
Mallory’s jaw dropped along with my stomach.
“I did it because I was sad, or maybe to get his attention, to…” She sniffed, shaking her head. “To feel something. I was so numb. And then there was this sweet, caring, funny, kind, amazing man making me feel so special.”
She shook her head with glossed eyes, as if she was remembering another version of who she used to be.
Who she could have been.
“But,” she continued. “When I got pregnant, he sent me away, and no one knew. They all thought I was at rehab, that I’d been drinking too heavily and admitted to Patrick that I needed help and he’d sent me away. And when I came back, I was better than ever, and everyone congratulated me and suddenly I was being asked to speak and to run events and I found purpose again. And the baby.” She stopped, correcting herself. “You. You were the wake-up call I needed. I know it doesn’t make sense but… I came back to me and Patrick being stronger than ever before.”
She shook her head, as if none of that mattered — and in this moment, it didn’t.
“But, he was adamant that this all remain just between us. So, when I returned, I told him that I gave you to a family in Idaho.” She rolled her lips together, her voice soft again “But… I couldn’t part from you. I couldn’t bear the thought of never being able to see my son grow up. So, I went to my old best friend, and I asked her for the biggest favor of a lifetime.”
I could feel Noah and Logan watching me,
but all I could do was stare back at this woman — this stranger — who suddenly, I realized, had features that were reflected in me. I saw the freckles on her nose, and the curve of her eyes, and the wrinkle between her furrowed brows.
They were all things I saw in myself, too.
My throat was tight the more she spoke, and Sydney squeezed my hand, reminding me she was there.
“Laurelei and John were having trouble getting pregnant at the time,” Mary explained. “And I knew she wanted to be a mother so badly, and I knew she would help anyone — no matter what — because that’s the kind of woman she has always been.” Mary sniffed. “So, she did. She helped me. And she helped you.”
My head was swimming, and Mallory and I exchanged a glance that held just as many questions as we’d walked into this room with at the beginning of the night.
We were brother and sister.
That was my mother standing on the other side of her.
But who was my father?
I didn’t have time to ask, not before Mary brought our attention back to the matter at hand. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, and I know you must have many questions. But right now,” she said, turning back to her husband. “I don’t care what your reasoning was for what you did, you need to make this right.”
“Fine,” he seethed, looking at all of us then. “What do you want? You want money? Name your price.”
“We don’t want your fucking money,” Logan said. “We want you to rot in prison for killing our father.”
“You and everyone who helped you,” Noah chimed in. “We want names.”
“And we want the shares of the company that we are rightfully owed,” I added, though my chest was tight, because now I wasn’t sure which we I fit into.
I’d wondered for so long who my biological mother was. I never would have imagined that once I found out, I’d feel an invisible tear from the family I’d known my entire life.
Patrick laughed, shaking his head at us. “You’re delusional if you think I would ever give you any part of my company. You’re lucky I even let you pieces of shit work for me. And I promise you this,” he added, thumbing his chest. “I will never go to prison — especially not for your worthless father and the end of his worthless life. Like I said before, you don’t have any proof — none that would matter. None that would stand up against what I have built. Did you forget what I said earlier?” He sneered. “You. Will. Not. Win.”
“Wow, that’s a good one,” a female voice said from outside the office window, and Patrick jumped, shock falling over him.
Noah and Logan exchanged a smirk, though I couldn’t quite find it in me to join them.
“Who is that?” Patrick asked quickly, running over to the window. Just as he did, the light of a giant camera blasted in at him, and he shielded his eyes.
“Can I quote you on that? It would really add a menacing, evil bad guy tone to the piece.”
The light disappeared, and Patrick was searching in the yard, wild-eyed and confused. He looked back at us, panicking. “Who was that? What’s going on?”
Then, the door behind Mary opened wider, and Mikey stepped through it.
Along with Miranda Hollis.
Miranda was a writer for our local newspaper — The Stratford Gazette — and thanks to Mallory helping us make a plan, we knew if we got her involved, we’d be able to slam the door on this case once and for all. She was famous for writing scathing articles about Patrick Scooter and she had for years — though, admittedly, none of them held much weight.
This one, however, would be a home run for her.
Mallory had blackmailed her father with Miranda before, telling him that if he didn’t give Logan the position he was owed at the distillery, she would go to Miranda and tell her everything that happened when she was fourteen years old and Randy Kelly sexually harassed her in the basement of Patrick’s underground casino.
With Miranda’s father in politics and a place of power even Patrick couldn’t touch, he would do anything to keep Miranda out of his business.
But that time was over now.
Patrick’s face went sheet white at the sight of her, and he looked around the room like a cornered animal, trying to find a gap in our legs to escape.
“Hi there, Patrick,” Miranda cooed, holding up the digital recorder in her hands. She had short brown hair and glasses too big for her face, the frames of which lifted a bit as she grinned at Patrick.
A burly man holding the large video camera that had blinded Patrick through the window came in behind her, and she pointed at him over her shoulder.
“Have you met my friend, Shadow? He works in Nashville for Channel 2 News. As you know, we don’t have a video crew for our little newspaper here in town, but when Sydney came to me with this juicy story? Well, I just had to be prepared. And we’ve been listening outside this entire time, my dear.”
Patrick just shook his head, over and over, his eyes scanning the room in disbelief.
“Oh yeah, buddy,” Miranda said. “You’re going down.”
For a moment, Patrick just stood there, stricken, with everyone’s eyes on him. Then, he laughed, though the worry slipped through every crack in his façade. “This is absurd. I didn’t agree to you recording me,” he pointed out. “You can’t air this, let alone use it in a court of law.”
“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Miranda asked. “But, you see, Tennessee is a one-party consent state, and everyone in this room consented to me recording them other than you. Therefore, this video and audio is protected, and yes, it can be used in a court of law.”
Patrick looked to Mary, and Miranda nodded.
“Yes, even your wife — which solidifies this more than anything.”
Patrick eyed Miranda, and then the deepest, most primal growl ripped from his throat. He was like a cornered animal, and in a flash, he crossed the room, ripping open the top drawer of his desk and whipping out a pistol.
His eyes were wild and murderous as he raised it. Sydney gasped, and Mary reached for Mallory, holding her close as if to protect her and the baby. But Patrick didn’t have time to pull the trigger before Logan and Noah pounced on him, sending him flying to the floor and the gun spiraling away from him. I grabbed it, emptied the chamber, and held both the bullets and the gun in my hands as Patrick writhed in my brothers’ grips.
“Oh, please say you got that, too,” Miranda said, giddy as she turned to Shadow. “That will look just perfect on the evening news. Oh, by the way, Patrick,” she said to him next. “The cops are already on their way. And not your shady Stratford cops either — who, by the way, we’ve been investigating undercover for years now. We already have a case building against Randy Kelly, and this is just the icing on the cake.” She smiled victoriously. “You’re all going to pay for what you’ve done.”
Noah and Logan looked at each other, at Mikey, at me, and in that moment, the weight we’d carried on our chests for a decade was lifted, and I swore I felt our father in that room with us.
Noah smiled, still holding Patrick firmly, and Logan looked up at me with tears in his eyes.
“We did it,” he said, shaking his head. “We did it, brothers.”
Mikey made his way over to me then, and I wrapped him in a bear hug as chaos ensued.
First it was the sound of sirens, and then Patrick being hauled away while more cameras and reporters showed up at the Scooter residence. It would have been comical, watching him struggle against the officers, throwing a fit in their grips and saying, “Do you know who I am?” over and over again, had I not been in shock. He even tried to throw a punch at one of them when they finally shoved his head into the squad car, the rest of him following suit, and then they slammed the door shut.
My brothers and I were clinging to each other in the front yard when our mother showed up, wide-eyed and riddled with worry, until we told her everything.
It was over.
It was all over.
And finally, we h
ad justice for Dad.
A quiet, calm kind of numbness settled over me as we talked to police officers and reporters and filed statements. It wasn’t the relief I thought we’d find, because as much as we’d finally found answers, we still didn’t have our father.
He’d still died a horrible death, at the hands of a monstrous group of men.
I didn’t know how late it was when the yard finally started to clear, and Sydney slipped her arms around my waist, and I held her against my chest, resting my cheek on the crown of her head.
“You okay?” I asked her.
She nodded, hands fisting in my shirt. “I’m shaken up,” she admitted. “And confused. And heartbroken. And I still have no idea what I’ll tell Paige, but… I’m relieved that it’s over. I’m relieved that we can finally all find peace.”
I kissed her forehead as my chest tightened, because peace seemed so far from my grasp.
“Are you okay?” she asked, and I knew she could feel my anxiety.
I just held her tighter in response, willing her without words to not let me go.
Because I wasn’t okay.
I was far from it.
One weight had been lifted, but another had crashed down in its place, and while I was filled with exhaustion and joy and relief at the solving of my father’s mysterious death, I was plagued with questions and betrayal at the discovery of my biological mother.
A million questions had been answered.
A million more had taken their place.
And as I locked eyes with my mother’s — my real mother, not the biological one I’d just discovered — I had a feeling the answers I would find would be just as hard to hear as the ones we’d found tonight were.
“I’m right here,” Sydney whispered, hugging me tight, and I tore my eyes from Mom’s and closed them, instead. “No matter what happens next, you have me, okay? And we’ll get through it. Together.”
My throat tightened, and I held her even tighter, surrounding my aching heart with her words.
If I had her, I could face anything.
That much, at least, I was sure of.
Sydney
Old Fashioned Page 26
