by Pamela Morsi
“Oh my God,” Cam said.
“I always tell myself that I was lucky that I wasn’t gang-raped.”
“I am so sorry,” he told her.
“Within days those pictures were passed around all over town,” Red told him. “As far as anyone was concerned the boys were just being boys, but I was a certified slut. No, worse than a slut. They talked about me and Kenny, using terms like depravity, incest and perversion. After half a year of the whole town constantly reminding me that I was not a Grayson, suddenly Kenny and I were brother and sister.”
She glanced over at Cam. He was still with her. Red didn’t know what he was thinking, but he hadn’t walked away.
“My mother was so furious, she was out of control,” Red continued. “She didn’t for a second think that it might not be all my fault. She hit me and kicked me and called me horrible names, names I’d never even heard of. Harv was horrified, too. But he was at least as upset with Kenny as he was with me. He knew why Kenny did it and I think he felt sorry for me, but it didn’t matter.”
Red sat up straighter and brushed off her jeans as if she could whisk it all away.
“My mom threw me out. She literally locked me out of the front door with the clothes on my back and ordered me off the premises. I just stood on the front lawn, not having a clue of what to do or where to go. I kept thinking, ‘She’s my mom, moms can’t do this, she has to take me back in, she has to let me stay here.’ But it just got later and later. Finally the lights in the house went out. I slept that night on the lawn furniture.
“In the morning Harv came out and woke me up. He’d thrown my clothes in a suitcase and told me to get in the car. We drove to the courthouse in Crockett. Harv had called in a favor from a local judge. The man had me sign a bunch of forms and by lunchtime I had manumission papers declaring me as an adult. Then Harv bought me a sack with a burger and fries and dropped me off at the bus station. He gave me everything in his wallet. Two hundred and thirty-five dollars.”
Red knew she sounded matter-of-fact but, strangely, she felt that way.
“I came to San Antonio because that’s where the next bus was headed.”
“And you never talked to your mother again?” Cam asked.
“I called her about two months later,” Red answered. “When I finally realized I was pregnant. I was so stupid, I didn’t even know how to tell. When I found out, the first thing I did was call my mom. I remember it as if it just happened. The operator said, ‘I’ve got a long-distance collect call from Emmaline Cullens. Will you accept the charges?’ And my mother, as clearly and firmly as if she weren’t lying through her teeth, answered, ‘I don’t know anyone by that name.’” Red blew out a big puff of air. A long moment passed between them, only the sound of the water filled the silence.
“So I decided I didn’t know anyone by that name, either,” she said. “My daddy always called me Red. I’ve been Red ever since.”
Cam twisted a thick lock of her hair around his fist. “I like it,” he told her. “It’s a no-nonsense name for a woman who put nonsense behind her.”
“So, maybe now you can understand how I feel about the money,” Red said to him. “Back when I really needed her, when she really could have helped me, she chose not to. Now, when I’m more than able to stand up for myself, she’s trying to have a do-over or get rid of her guilt by paying me off. She’s not going to need the money anymore, so why not use it to buy back the daughter that she kicked to the curb like a bag of garbage. Well, I don’t come so cheap these days.”
Cam wrapped his arms tightly around her as tears ran down her face and her body shook with sobs of grief and anger. He just held her there on that boulder, rocking her back and forth like a baby in his arms, allowing the last of her bitterness to spill out as the water from deep beneath the ground seeped out of the spring, swirling past them and into the world beyond.
As it went, Red began to feel cleansed. The shame and anger she’d clung to so tightly for years had been released and she began to feel better, lighter, hopeful.
When all the tears were dry and the comfort of his arms had become second nature, Cam finally let her go and rose to his feet. “Let’s walk on down to Broadway and see if we can’t find something to eat. I’m hungry.”
“Me, too,” Red said, surprising herself. “It’s so strange. I’ve kept this inside so long. I thought if I ever let it out, it would just destroy me, destroy everything around me. But now I’ve said it. I’ve said it all to you. And the sun is still shining, the water is still running and all my body knows is that I missed breakfast and it’s time for lunch.”
He helped her back up the bank and she followed him along the track. When they were once again on the gravel path, Red took his hand.
“I just realized that my mother and I had something very much in common,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“Both of us got a phone call from our daughter that offered us a second chance to maybe get things right,” Red answered. “I guess I’m just lucky that I had to take the call.”
32
The week before Christmas was busy, more so than any Red could ever remember. Typically she would buy a few presents, put up some colored lights and tinsel in the bar and spend the day sleeping in. That was not going to cut it this year.
The party in Daniel’s class went well. She’d become so accustomed to helping out that she now knew all the kids and they all knew her. Her years of working at the bar, translated into appropriate first-grade language, had made her approachable to the kids and apparently unreproachable among their parents.
With school out and the kids home all day, Aunt Phyl discovered so much that had to be done. Cam put a sweet-smelling fir tree in front of the living-room windows and retrieved the ornaments he’d grown up with from a few boxes in the attic.
Aunt Phyl supervised as Olivia and Daniel turned ordinary green limbs and needles into something magical, glittering and festive. They did such a good job, she insisted, that they must redo her tree, as well. For twenty years, at least, Aunt Phyl had contracted the services of an interior decorator to “dress her home for the season.” This year had been no exception. But she went home and stripped the beautifully appointed and elegantly styled tree down to the lights. The next day, she had Olivia and Daniel redecorate it with homemade ornaments, Christmas cookies and strings of popcorn and cranberries.
“It was the most joy I’ve ever had out of a tree,” the woman admitted to Red.
The evening of Cam’s chamber concert, Red took the night off. She and the kids put on their best clothes and their nicest manners and went with Aunt Phyl to the event on the campus of Trinity University.
They had excellent tickets with a perfect view of Cam, who was seated on the front row among the violins. Red thought him amazingly handsome in his black tux. She was not at all familiar with classical music, but she had no reverse snobbery about it. Music was music and any live production had the potential to touch the heart. The concert did that admirably and she was surprised at how many of the holiday-themed pieces sounded familiar to her. But what truly stunned her was Cam’s performance. She had watched him as the casual, happy-go-lucky fiddle player enjoying himself on the stage many times. But this music made him very intense. He was frowning through the entire performance. This music strived for a perfection that would have leached all the joy out of a honky-tonk crowd.
After the concert, Aunt Phyl took them to the country club for dessert. Cam met them there. Over chocolate Christmas pie with candy canes, Olivia and Daniel asked Cam questions.
“What’s it like to be in the middle of all those instruments at the same time?”
“If you make a mistake, does the person next to you know it?”
“Why do they need that guy with the stick? He doesn’t even play anything.”
Cam took every question seriously and answered as best he could, even including some important practical lessons comparing teamwork and harmony with individu
al achievement. The children seemed to relish discussion about a world that was all new to them.
Aunt Phyl spotted an old friend and, to Red’s surprise, wanted to introduce Olivia and Daniel. From across the room, Red observed the two former “menaces and criminals” politely conversing with the table of older folks as Phyl looked on with pride.
“She probably should be introducing you, too,” Cam said. Red shook her head. “I don’t want to meet anybody,” she answered. “I’m happy with the tacky but dependable friends I’ve already got.”
Cam chuckled.
“What did you think of the concert?”
“I liked it,” she told him. “Beautiful music. And you were, by far, the most handsome guy on stage. But I’m glad you don’t do that anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because it doesn’t seem to make you happy,” she said.
“And you are concerned with my happiness?”
“It’s become one of my top priorities.”
Cam raised an eyebrow. “Well, you already know what I want very much.”
Red shrugged.
“You need a hint?” he asked. “What has ribbons and bells, involves some vows and some toasting, goes on for a couple of hours and lasts a lifetime?” He hesitated. “It also rhymes with bedding.”
“You want to go sledding?” she teased. “You’d better take that up with Santa Claus.”
Laughing off his persistent question was the only thing to do during this time, when her own concerns took a backseat to the imminent arrival of her daughter and all the relief and upheaval that was sure to bring.
On his lunch hour, Brad brought by the papers to officially refuse her inheritance. Cam was by her side as Brad revealed details he’d gleaned from the Dallas law firm.
“Kenneth Grayson is executor of the will,” he told Red, which was no surprise. “The will was actually changed shortly after the death of her husband, Harvey, a few years ago. Patsy Grayson added the two subsequent bequests without her stepson’s knowledge.”
Although the bar was empty, Brad lowered his voice as if passing on a juicy piece of gossip. “Grayson said he had no idea where you might be. He didn’t think it was ‘worth it’ to track you down and was willing to just leave the money in limbo. But a few weeks ago he found out from an unexpected source that you were here in San Antonio. After unsuccessfully trying to contact you himself, he turned the information over to his law firm.”
“I’m sure Kenny will be delighted to hear that I’ve refused it,” Red said.
“From what I gathered from his attorney, Kenneth Grayson is perfectly satisfied with the disposition as it is,” Brad said. “He inherited all the property and the remaining shares of the business. Besides, the money you’re refusing goes to the other beneficiary. It will just be added to her share.”
“Who’s the other beneficiary?” Red asked.
“Oh, it’s your daughter,” Brad answered. “Bridge Cullens Lujan.”
Red was shocked into silence.
“Does Bridge know about this?” Cam asked.
“Not yet,” Brad answered. “The attorney asked me about her whereabouts and I told him that she’d been overseas with the army, but that she was due home soon. I didn’t give them her address, because I wasn’t sure if she’d be staying at your house. They can locate her through military channels.”
Red was still speechless.
“I hope you’re not thinking to refuse her inheritance on her behalf,” Brad said. “Because you won’t be allowed to do that. The money was left to her by name. It’s hers to do with as she sees fit. And with yours added to it, well, it’s certainly a considerable amount.”
“No, no,” Red assured him, finally finding her voice. “I would never presume to tell Bridge what to do. Besides, that money could help her buy a house or pay for the kids to go to college. I’m just... just blown away that my mother even knew that Bridge existed.”
Red gratefully signed all the papers that allowed her to throw the cash back in her mother’s face, as well as make it possible for her daughter and grandchildren to benefit from it. She couldn’t have been more pleased.
“It’s worked out perfectly,” she told Cam after Brad left. “There’s only one unpleasant fly in the ointment.”
“What is that?” he asked.
“I have never told Bridge anything about her father,” Red said. “She didn’t know about my family or my history. I’ve kept all that from her. Now it will all have to come out.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can’t let her find out from someone else,” Red answered. “Once she gets this money and finds out that she had family in Piney Woods, she’s going to be curious. And she won’t be able to show up there without someone saying something, even if they don’t know for sure.”
“What does Bridge already know?” Cam asked. “You can’t tell me that she never asked about her father.”
“I just refused to talk about it. Finally, she accused me of being with so many guys I didn’t know,” Red answered. “Seeing the kind of life I’ve led, it was pretty easy for her to think that. So I just let her.”
“It’s always good to know the truth,” Cam said. “Building a lie between you has probably always kept the two of you apart.”
“I just don’t want to hurt her,” Red said. “She’s already had to live through enough of my mistakes.”
“You’re the one who’s always telling me how tough she is,” Cam pointed out. “You’ve got to have a little faith.”
As the holiday grew nearer, the anxiety about when Bridge would get home seemed to grow and grow. It affected everyone.
Red was torn between the eagerness to see her daughter and the genuine distress that Olivia and Daniel would revert to being strangers once more.
Cam began moving Red’s things back into the upstairs apartment.
“These first couple of weeks, Bridge is going to want to be alone with the kids,” he said. “She’s going to need rest and they’re going to need privacy. And they’ll get neither if you’re still there.”
Aunt Phyl had taken up the task of finding an acceptable house for Bridge’s family to live in as her goal in life, dickering over the phone to old friends in the real-estate business for hours on end.
The kids themselves were jittery as june bugs. Olivia began to have trouble sleeping through the night. And every day Daniel asked, “Is Mommy coming home tomorrow?”
She called on Christmas Eve to say she was in Kuwait. “I’m going to be a few days late,” she warned them. “But I’ve discussed this with Santa Claus and he says you guys still have to be good through Christmas until I get there.”
“You’re joking with me,” Daniel said. “You didn’t talk to Santa Claus. He’s at the North Pole, not with you.”
“No, of course he’s not here,” Bridge told her son. “This is no place for a busy guy like him. We exchanged e-mails.”
Everyone felt better after the call and the kids agreed with Red that Christmas Eve would be postponed until their mother got home. And Christmas day would go on as planned.
Their plans were more in the spirit of Christmas anyway. Kelly had invited them to visit the hospital to see her husband and Kendra.
Aunt Phyl took the kids to her house, where cookie baking took up most of the morning. A few minutes after noon, they loaded up the car with cookies and presents and everybody.
They met up with Kelly at the hospital’s family room outside the burn unit, ward 4E. Her mother-in-law was still there, helping. Aunt Phyl immediately picked up Kendra, as if the two were long-lost buddies.
Children were not allowed inside the intensive care unit. Instead, they visited with Kelly and the baby and handed out cookies all around the room.
Some of the patients from the unit were well enough to sit with their families. Their injuries were visible and often disfiguring. Red worried that Olivia and Daniel might be shocked or scared. But the children had been at the hospital many times
when their mother worked there. They were not unaccustomed to the sight of wounded soldiers. And the atmosphere was not one of hushed reverence or tearful bravery. It was festive. It was Christmas and everyone in the family room appeared grateful to be surrounded by people who loved them.
Kelly wanted Red and Cam to meet her husband. After they washed their hands, they were buzzed into the ward. They followed Kelly to an alcovelike room within the ward and met her husband, Sean, for the first time.
He was quiet, seemingly shy with strangers. Red didn’t know what to say to him. Should she tell him how sorry she was about his injuries? Should she ask about what had happened? As she mentally dithered about which direction was more polite, she heard herself matter-of-factly inquiring about the strange bandages that he was swathed in.
Sean seemed immediately more comfortable with relaying factual information.
“This is called Coban,” he answered. “It’s like a pressure dressing. Once you start physical or occupational therapy, they put it on you to keep the swelling down.” He shot a quick smile toward his wife. “This is my big Christmas present. I just got it yesterday. I’ve been wearing Silverlon. It’s a kind of wrap that looks like what a ballplayer might get for an athletic injury. But it’s got silver in it that leaches out to kill bacteria.”
Kelly added, “The Coban is like unmistakable evidence that he’s moved from just recovering to rehabilitating.”
“Congratulations,” Red said.
“Thanks.”
Red talked to Kelly as Cam and Sean shared what Red thought of as guy talk about sports teams and dove hunting.
Neither sounded particularly involved with any of it, but they kept at it until they got to a subject they were both interested in—music.