by Kim Karr
After searching unsuccessfully for her myself, I’d gone to the office, tried to work until I couldn’t try anymore, and then came home.
Home.
Right.
With the bottle of whiskey I’d picked up on the way back here beside me, I cracked it open and swirled the amber liquid.
The thought of getting rip-roaring drunk and drowning my sorrows in this bottle—and another—seemed like the best course of action.
It had always, anyway.
Yet, as I attempted to tip the bottle to my lips and start the self-medication process, I couldn’t stop from feeling like I was like him.
Like Corky.
One fuck-up after the other.
And what if this fuck-up was one I couldn’t come back from?
Charm only went so far, and with Paris, it actually went nowhere. No, I wasn’t going to be like him.
Not like Corky.
Not fucking ever.
Getting to my feet, I dumped the bottle down the drain and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
No, I wasn’t an alcoholic like him.
Yet.
I still had time to stop myself from falling off the edge.
Screwing the cap off, I sat back down and resumed my vigil out the window. I had to change. Take control of the wheel. Take charge of my life.
My gaze roamed over the sun, the hills, the vineyards. Napa Valley. This place had a lot to offer. The large pond with its broken-down boat could be turned into a small lake with a shiny rowboat and gazebo, like Paris had mused about that first night so long ago.
The old pickup truck still in the garage could be restored for driving around the vineyards and for make-out sessions.
Fuck, there was a lot I could do to make this place our home. Make the winery ours. Make a life for us.
The front door opened, and for a moment I thought my wife had come to her senses and returned home, but only for a moment.
“Tyler.” The voice that shrieked was none other than that of the Wicked Witch of the West.
I gulped the water in my hand and slammed the plastic down. “In here.”
A moment later she waltzed into the kitchen, perfectly made-up, not a hair out of place, not a single lie shining through.
But then she must have always been the best actress.
My gaze narrowed when I saw her.
“What on earth was so urgent that you had me hauled back here?” she demanded.
Okay, hauled was a little dramatic.
I’d sent Highway 128’s foreman to Lake Tahoe to bring Wilhelmina and Buck back.
Bring. Not haul.
The employment application was on the table and I pushed it across the surface without saying a word.
She settled into the chair and fished in her purse for her reading glasses. “What’s this?” she asked, a bit of a snip in her voice.
Smug-like, I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. “It appears to be your employment application for a housekeeper position,” I offered, keeping my voice controlled in a way that even surprised myself. “For here,” I added.
After locating her readers, she put them on and picked up the old document. The first sign of emotion skated across her features as soon as she glanced at it.
I’d nicely highlighted for her the box where it asked about dependents, and I knew she’d discovered my discretion when her fingers started to shake.
Trying to decipher from her reaction what the hell was going on before I was born that my entire family felt they had to cover up who she was to me was a nearly impossible feat.
Then she blew out a breath and closed her eyes and I felt my gut knot. “You found this in the storage room?” Her voice cracked when she spoke.
“I did,” I offered with another snip of venom in my tone because what did it matter where I found it?
When she looked up and opened her eyes, there was fear and worry in her gaze like I’d never seen. “I’m sorry, Tyler. I had no idea this still existed. I’d just assumed it had been destroyed years ago.”
Seeing her face fall and her throat bob had me tempering my raging anger. True emotion lived there and I had to say, it fucking worried me.
Silence filled the space between us.
Apprehension gnawed at my soul. And when she still said nothing, I glared at her. Impatient, I was done waiting and I couldn’t hold back another second. “So tell me, has my entire fucking life been a joke to you?”
She shook her head.
“Really! I find that hard to believe when you’re my real grandmother and yet you lied about it. You pretended to be an outsider when you were actually my family. All these years I thought I was alone and I wasn’t. I just don’t fucking get it.”
Tears were welling in her eyes. Okay, Wilhelmina Madeline Fox Holiday did not cry. Ever. “You were never supposed to find out, Tyler. It was better that way.”
I snapped and slammed my fist on the table. “Why the fuck not? Why was it better that way?”
She flinched and dug back into her purse, her tears falling faster than raindrops now.
“Why?” I demanded. “Was I the product of rape?” I asked lower, feeling my gut wretch inside. It was after all, what I’d thought all along.
Her face fell and she frantically wiped at her tears. “God, no, Tyler, just the opposite.”
Shrugging away the disbelief was a challenge. “Then why the lies, Wilhelmina. Does it have something to do with London Fairchild?”
Everything about her froze.
It did.
I knew right then it did.
The silence was bringing me close to losing my temper and I tried to choose my words carefully. “How about I start by telling you what I know. Maybe that will jog your memories. Paris found her sister’s diary and Corky’s name was written all over the place. How much she loved him. How she couldn’t wait to be with him. Corky. Corky. Corky. He was everywhere. So what the fuck happened?”
I always seemed to fly shotgun.
“She happened,” Wilhelmina said bluntly.
I flinched. “She? She who?”
“London Fairchild. I’m going to make a cup of coffee; would you like one?” she asked.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. No, I don’t want a cup of coffee. I want the truth.”
Wilhelmina got up and patted my shoulder as she walked past me. “And you’ll get it.”
My mouth fell open as she slowly strode to her fancy coffeemaker that ground the beans and heated the water to just the right temperature. Why she hadn’t taken it to the guesthouse yet, I didn’t understand.
I didn’t look at her or watch her wary steps. I couldn’t. She looked so defeated. It was so unlike her. I heard the machine spit and hiss and knew it was pumping out black liquid.
A few minutes later she came back to the table with two cups and set one in front of me. “Just in case you change your mind,” she said when I eyed her.
After she took a sip, she set the cup on the saucer and folded her hands on the table. “I started working here when your Grandmother Jane first got ill. I was a young, single mother and needed a job. It wasn’t ideal, but Audrey and I were offered the guesthouse, and I took the opportunity for stability. It was supposed to be temporary. But then, after Jane died, your grandfather needed someone to help him with the house and Corky, so I decided to stay a bit longer.”
“Sounds reasonable enough, so why omit Miller from your moniker?” I hissed.
Her knuckles were turning white from how tight she was holding her hands together. “After everything that happened, your grandfather and I didn’t want you tainted by it all.”
“And what the fuck happened?” I gritted.
She cleared her throat. “Audrey, my daughter, was a year younger than Corky, and she was so innocent, I never saw what was happening right before my eyes.”
“And that was?” I blurted out.
“That they were falling in love.”
I laughed har
shly. “Corky in love. That’s bullshit.”
Reaching for her coffee, she took a slow sip. When she set the cup down, she said, “For the man you knew, yes, I can see why you’d believe that. He was hard, mean, and indifferent, but he wasn’t always like that.”
“So what happened? What changed him?” I asked, my harsh tone a bit grating, even on my own nerves.
Her hands folded on the table again. “I was never privy to the facts as they unfolded or I would have been more involved. I only found out later.”
“Involved in what?”
She started talking and it was like she’d gone back in time. “Corky and London had known each other, of course, from school, but had never really spoken. At a friend’s party, they struck up a conversation and hit it off, I guess. I’m not sure what else happened.”
Yeah, I was sure.
Sure they’d fucked.
“So much for love,” I said darkly.
Her lips pursed. “Audrey and Corky weren’t an item at the time and because Audrey was younger, I didn’t allow her to go to those kinds of party.”
I laughed bitterly. “Those kinds of parties.”
“Yes, Tyler, those kind of parties. You know what I mean. You threw enough of them, and got in trouble every time, if I recall.”
I glared at her.
“Anyway, London became infatuated with Corky after that. Almost delusional about their relationship. She came to the house to see him over the holidays. Called him all the time. Sent him love letters. He played it off as harmless and ignored her. It was also during his return for Christmas that Corky and Audrey developed a relationship.”
Developed.
Right.
Meaning he fucked her, too.
Shit, my entire childhood I’d heard him fuck anyone that would have him, seen it, too. When the poor woman would leave the next day dejected because he’d tell her to get out, he’d just look at me and say, never forget to wrap it up.
“That first summer back from college,” she said. “London was absolutely relentless in pursuing Corky. She was calling and stopping by all the time. One day, just to be nice, he invited her to a party we were having here.”
Nice. Right. More than likely to get in her pants or who knew, have a threesome, even.
“The night she died,” I said under my breath.
Curiosity entered her gaze.
“It was in the diary,” I muttered.
Wilhelmina nodded. “London came to a party at the house and saw Corky alone with Audrey. I guess Audrey was upset and he pulled her aside. London somehow managed to overhear Audrey telling Corky her period was late.”
The room felt smaller all of a sudden.
Before I could swallow past the lump in my throat long enough to say anything, she continued. “She stormed over to them and accused Corky of cheating on her. Audrey was shocked. Corky tried to explain to her that he and Audrey were together then but London just called him a cheat and a number of other inappropriate words. She had been drinking, as had all of the kids, and yet Audrey demanded Corky tell her to leave. He not only did that, but he escorted her to her car.”
Feeling my throat closing up, I reached for my coffee cup and took a sip. Was this true or was Corky playing both London and Audrey?
I’d never know.
“That was the night she went off the road on her way home,” Wilhelmina added.
I set the cup down. “Audrey was pregnant . . . with me,” I somehow managed to say out loud, although I didn’t remember ever thinking those words.
Wilhelmina leaned forward and took my hand. Shocked, I looked at her like she was from Mars.
With a nod, she said, “Tyler, they both blamed themselves for London’s death. With the heavy guilt and unexpected pregnancy, Audrey and Corky’s young relationship didn’t fare well. Audrey blamed Corky for everything and he blamed her for forcing London to leave.”
“And what did you do about all of this?” I shouted, anger blistering and bursting in a way I couldn’t control.
“Nothing,” she sighed. “I did nothing. I didn’t know anything about it until it was too late. And by the time I discovered Audrey was pregnant, she was a wreck.”
The walls felt they were closing in on me. “So what happened?”
Wilhelmina stood and went to stand by the window. “Mrs. Fairchild became pregnant soon after London’s death and Audrey ran into her at the doctor’s office. She didn’t know who Audrey was when Audrey apologized for the loss of her daughter. Mrs. Fairchild just looked down and called the baby she was carrying London’s replacement. That day Audrey nearly lost her mind. The guilt she felt was festering and none of us knew it.”
Replacement.
I fucking hated that word.
“After Audrey gave birth, she fell into a deep depression. I thought she’d snap out of it. Her life had changed, after all. And so had Corky’s. Things were hard. Neither went back to college. It was difficult for them both.”
I had a million questions. “Where the hell is all this going? What happened? My mother took off and never came back? Where is she? Do you still talk to her?” They all came flying out.
My mother.
My mother.
The woman in front of me knew my mother.
Fuck, she was my mother’s mother.
Wilhelmina shook her head and a deep sadness filled her features. “About three months after you were born, Audrey saw Mrs. Fairchild’s obituary in the paper. She read that the woman had died during childbirth. That was the day my daughter broke with reality. That day she—” Wilhelmina stopped talking, her voice trembling too much for her to go on.
Something switched inside me. I felt like I was looking at myself from the outside. At the woman who had stood strong by my side regardless of what I’d done. Never raised a hand to me. Always nagged me to do better. Nagged? Or was it encouraged? I wasn’t sure anymore.
This woman had been there for me my entire life and she was crumbling before my eyes. Strands of guilt lashed my skin and I got to my feet and walked over to her. I took her gently by the shoulders and said, “She what, Wilhelmina, she what?”
Tears streamed by the bucketful when she told me, “Slit her wrists and killed herself.”
I felt myself swaying, the floor dropping out from under me, and then I was sitting on the hardwood without knowing how I’d gotten there. “Because of me?” I croaked in question. “She killed herself because of me,” I said, and that time not in question.
Wilhelmina dropped beside me and took my face in her hands. “No, Tyler, not because of you. My daughter killed herself because she wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Today the doctor’s would call it postpartum depression.”
I glared up at her. “And Corky? What happened to him?” I was almost afraid to ask.
That same fear from earlier blossomed on her face, and she drew in a breath and slowly blew it out.
“What?” I demanded to know.
“He blamed you for everything.”
Of course he fucking did.
Her eyelids fluttered and she trained her focused eyes on me, pain glittering brightly in their depths. “He wanted to give you away because the memories were too hard to bear.”
I blinked, felt bile rise up my throat. “Why didn’t he?”
She took her hands from my face and placed them on her heart. “Because your grandfather and I wouldn’t permit it. You were an innocent little baby and a part of us.”
“How did you stop him?” I asked with an edge in my voice. The thought of not growing up here was more than a little disturbing.
“We made a deal with him.”
Deal with the devil. Fucking great.
“He wanted to forget about everything. Never to hear Audrey or London’s name spoken again, and we agreed to those terms. We told everyone Audrey left town, and we kept the funeral private. It was a choice we made. It might not have been the right one, but it seemed like our only one at the time. And in exchange, Cor
ky would raise you, here, so we could watch over you.”
“Right. Our happy home,” I muttered.
“I know it wasn’t perfect, Tyler, but I really tried to make it the best for you that I could. I married your grandfather so I could be a part of your life. Watch over you. Take care of you. Help you become an honest man.”
Emotions flooded me that I couldn’t stop. “Are you fucking kidding me? You pretended to be someone you weren’t—a stranger. Who does that?.”
“Yes, I covered up who I was, but that was only so I could keep you in my life. Then in time I started to believe it was for the best that you didn’t know. That not being tainted by all the heartache that surrounded your birth was better for you.”
I blinked. Looked at her. Blinked some more. “Better,” I spit. “Better than what?”
All she could do was stare at me.
“There must have been more for Corky or why the hell would he have kept me in the first place?”
Wilhelmina swallowed and then nodded. “He wanted money and controlling interest in California Jane, and your grandfather gave him both.”
Yes, of course, to afford his gambling, greed, whores, and all around misogynistic ways.
That’s how the company ended up in his hands after my grandfather died. He had shares. Went to the board. Ousted Wilhelmina. I never did understand why my grandfather wouldn’t have put an iron-clad lock on any way at all his drunk son could get his grimy hands on what he’d worked so hard for. It was for me.
“Why did you even care so much?” I whispered.
Another tear slid down her cheek. “You were all I had left of my daughter and I wasn’t going to allow Corky to take you from me.”
That emotion I was feeling now clogged my throat and I just stared at her.
“Your grandfather and I hoped Corky would come around to fatherhood, but he never did. I’m sorry about that, Tyler. Really, I am.”
I just stared at her some more.
She hugged me then. “I loved you since the day you born, Tyler, and I had to make sure you didn’t turn out like your father. That’s why I was so hard on you.”
Turn out like him.
Turn out like him.
Turn.
Out.
Like.
Him.
I’d heard it one too many times today. And for once, I wasn’t angry or pissed at the world about it.