by Alice Ward
“Dad, this is Hawk. You know, I’ve told you about him.”
I reached out my hand, and his glasses slid down his nose as he squinted at me, returning the gesture. He had a firm grip, a fact that surprised me for a man his age. “Won’t you sit down, Hawk?” he offered, pointing to a chair. He looked at Liane and said, “Daughter, you’ll leave us for a bit?”
She nodded and winked at me as she went through the doorway and out to the garden beneath an ancient tree that seemed to crawl toward the sky. Through a thick glassed window, I saw an old swing tied there and she settled into it with a certainty born of years of having done so.
“Do you mind?” asked Vicar Coventry, holding out a pipe.
“No, sir, of course not,” I said respectfully. I truly meant it when I thought of him in a respectful manner. He was soft-spoken and yet completely in control of his environment. He had a peace about him and it occurred to me that I felt that same way when I was around his daughter.
“I’ve heard a good deal about you, my boy,” the vicar began and although I cringed internally at being called a boy, from him it somehow didn’t sound condescending.
“And I, you, sir,” I returned. “You have raised a wonderful daughter. You and the late Mrs. Coventry, sir.”
“Thank you, Hawk. Hawk, that’s an unusual name.”
“Yes, sir, it’s a nickname. My birth name is Worthington LaViere, IV. I was born just east of town and my family was and still is, in the equine industry.”
“Yes, I know,” he said, and I looked at him quizzically.
“I knew your paternal grandfather,” he said cautiously, and I felt my stomach turn over.
There was no way this could be good.
“Yes, sir. Unfortunately, I don’t remember him. He died before I was born, sir.”
“Yes, I know. I actually know quite a bit about your family, Hawk. I also happen to know why you go by the name you do. You see, I’ve been here many years, and your family is well-known throughout the community. Your grandfather was, shall we say, a character? Your father, I believe, is also a highly successful and prominent psychologist?”
I would let him tell me what he knew rather than filling in the ghastly pieces of the puzzle for him. I heard myself think the word “ghastly” and realized that Liane was having an effect on me. I looked through the window to where she sat on the swing, and she smiled and waved. She knew what was being said and was feeding thoughts to me. I would have to talk to her about that little hobby once we were married. It was fascinating to be sure, but it was also an invasion of privacy, and as much as I loved her, we needed our individual space.
“Yes, sir, that’s true.”
He tamped his pipe and peered at me over those glasses. The room swam in the scent of cherry tobacco and if anything, the leather chairs seemed to soften as though they were familiar and comforting to them. I wondered what was coming next.
“I understood there was a bit of a rift between you and your family. Have you resolved that?”
I didn’t know what to say. He continued before I had the chance to frame my response.
“I know it seems a bit impertinent for me to be asking you these private questions. You’re entitled to your privacy, to be sure. But I suppose by now you’ve learned that with Liane around, and her mother before her, there was very little privacy of thought to have under this old roof.” He drew on the pipe and the tobacco glowed red, sizzling a bit. “I also have reason to believe you’re not here to sell me stock or Girl Scout cookies.”
“No, sir, I’m definitely not.” This was my chance. He was giving me an opening and even introduced the topic himself.
“Vicar Coventry, I’ve come to pay my respects to you, sir, and to tell you that I’ve fallen in love with your daughter. I’m asking your permission to marry her, sir.”
“I see,” he nodded. “I assume you wouldn’t be here unless Liane was in favor of your proposal?”
“That’s true, sir. She laid down the rules of ‘engagement,’ shall we call it. I love your daughter and respect her name, your rules and now the conditions she laid down before she would accept my proposal. Reuniting with my family, in some sense, was the first, and naturally, meeting with you and asking your permission was her second.”
He nodded. “So, you think you’ve jumped the hurdles and deserve an answer, is that it?”
“I do.”
“What do you do for a living, Hawk, or will you be taking back your real name before you marry my daughter?”
“Hawk is my nickname, sir. My family used to call me ‘Ford’ for my mother’s side of the family, but I felt that Hawk was more in keeping with my, shall we say, ‘situation.’ It’s a bird I’ve long admired. A loner, not a songbird. Neither am I, sir, and I probably don’t have to tell you that.”
I paused, waiting for a response, but when I got none, stumbled on.
“I’ve had a troubled past, but in all fairness, it wasn’t all my doing. I believe my parents left me alone too often, and I’ve been told I’m a product of genetics, the worst of the genes coming to me. When my parents couldn’t control me, they sent me off to military school and later put me in the hands of a doctor who drugged me. My behavior deteriorated in a way I still don’t remember but regret to this day. I truly believe it wasn’t my true character, sir, but an effect of the medications I was being force fed. I got into trouble, did some damage and was resentful and willful. The result was a judge’s decision that I be institutionalized.”
He nodded. “Go on, son.”
I flushed a bit before I continued. “I was beaten up by some boys and managed to escape. A friend of the family took me to Mexico and after a few leaps and jumps, I wound up back here.”
“Haven’t you left out a small detail?” When I simply stared at him, he added, “Murder?”
I thought I would vomit on the flowered rug. “Sir, that’s not fair. That man was my uncle, but he was waging vengeance against my family and kidnapped me to force my father into something he didn’t want to do. My uncle intended to kill me. I got to him first. I believe, sir, that’s called self-defense.”
The vicar nodded and tamped his tobacco down before taking another long inhale. He squinted through the cloud of smoke hovering around his head. “Hawk, I knew all of what you’ve shared, but I wanted you to cleanse yourself of the guilt, and because I wanted to know if you would be truthful with me. A man who is truthful with his worst secrets can be trusted.”
My entire body seemed to exhale. “Thank you, sir.”
“It seems my daughter has her heart set on you. What was it you said you do for a living?”
“I own a tech company, sir. I employ outside sources to build apps for company employees to connect securely to their intranets.”
“I would say ‘I see,’ but obviously perhaps more to myself than anyone else, I’m behind the times and don’t understand what you do, but apparently it provides you a good living?”
“Yes, sir. Your daughter won’t want for anything. I don’t look to my family’s money and have made a substantial fortune on my own.”
“Hawk, can you tell me sincerely that your anger and less than ideal behavior is behind you?”
“Sir, I’ve behaved in the way that I had to in order to survive. I cannot excuse that and if put in the same position again, I would behave in the same way. Your daughter knows me, sir, as only you can understand. She has already made me a better man, and I give you my word, you’ll never regret letting me be responsible for her.”
As I spoke, emotion clogged my throat. I swallowed it down, amazed that my face was also burning. The vicar said nothing, just studied me, his pipe tapping his lower lip.
“She’s a rare jewel,” I said when I was able to continue, “and I understand that only too well.”
“Very well. You’ve answered admirably under pressure, and I admire that. So, I will give you my permission, but with one condition. You must never take her away from here for good. She is all t
hat I have left, and I don’t wish to die without her at my bedside. Call it selfish, if you will, but I believe you will understand when I say that she has powers that no one else exhibits. As far as anyone I know, that is. She will be a comfort to me, and when I’m gone, she will have no one but you. I want her to know that when I go, I will be in God’s hands so she need not worry or be overly sorrowful. Can you promise me that, Hawk?”
I stood and presented my hand. “You have my word, sir.” We shook, and I knew we had come to an agreement.
Liane already knew. She was crossing the yard and coming in the door. She went to her dad and hugged him, kissing him on the forehead. “See why I love him so?” she asked me.
“You are indeed a lucky young lady.” That said so much about who she was and who I wished I’d been. It was enough, however, that I be given a second chance to make the most of my life. I thanked her God and all the others for the opportunity.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Auggie
Lily, as it turned out, was absolutely ideal for the farm manager’s job. She had that rare combination of understanding the business and a love of horses. She could help a mare to foal and be dressed and groomed for a business conference by lunchtime. I was amazed at the coincidence that had brought our paths to cross on that flight.
I set her up in the farm manager’s mini-farm and she promptly began settling in, having her belongings shipped from the west coast. The male farm hands had no problem with her. Indeed, she was single and certainly eye candy, but hey recognized immediately that she knew what she was doing, and that earned her their loyalty and support. I couldn’t have been more thrilled. I began to take days off from time to time to see how she’d do when I wasn’t there, and often found she made better decisions than I might have.
It was no wonder my prowess had been compromised, however. Learning that my long-lost son had been living next door, yet clearly held such resentment was very hard on me. A mother’s instincts are not lessened by her children growing older. If anything, they’ve escaped the parameters of observation, and I found myself worrying all the more.
I hadn’t gotten any opportunity to talk to Liane at all. Now she would be a part of our family, and the lack of normalcy of our situation was disturbing. I tried to talk to Worth about it, but he seemed angry and withdrawn over the entire mess. I let him be. Pushing him always resulted in some sort of revolt among the LaViere men, both Worth and my son, “Hawk” included. It pained me that he had given up the connection to my family name, but it was his choice.
From a mother’s point of view, I understood why he felt abandoned. In the light of reality, he had been. A mother tends to forget the crime committed and remember only the punishment. After a time, it seems over-reactive and unjust. Bernie, although I knew he had loved Hawk in his own way, had made a poor substitute for a full set of parents. Well, the set of parents we should have been.
In retrospect, we should have never sent them out of the country. In doing so, he had magnified the crime, and there was no resolution short of imprisonment for Bernie, a man who knowingly kidnapped a minor under judge’s orders.
Would it have meant Hawk’s survival? Who could say? I knew it seemed the only solution at the moment, but in hindsight, dozens of possibilities could have been chosen.
God, the guilt wanted to eat me alive. I knew I hadn’t done my best job at being a parent. I had been horribly selfish. I had wanted things tied up with a neat bow so I could go back to my life. I had wanted to do the things that interested me and let someone else make the sacrifices of parenthood.
That’s when I realized the horrible truth. I had become my mother.
I was exactly like the woman I had resented and later despised. It had all come full circle. The realization stunned me, and I actually became ill for a few days. My head ached, and I felt as though I had the flu. I kept to our room, and although Worth kept insisting I see a doctor, I declined. I knew what was wrong with me. It was a big case of old-fashioned guilt. The only cure was to face it and deal with its reality — and to make sure that I changed my ways from that point forward.
I called Dad, and we talked at length about what happened. While he was thrilled that his grandson was back, I think he also felt guilt at what had taken place. He held himself accountable for Hawk, just as he had for Mother.
The world was made up of many people, and although Worth’s science broke them into types, I thought they were more like mutts. A little of one breed, or quality, and some of another. Some came out wonderfully, inheriting the best traits of the lineage while others seemed to take the garbage left over and had to do the best they could with that. Did that make one life worth more than another?
Those who inherited the good traits wanted to believe so. My mother was one of those, and now I realize, I probably was as well. We grew up having everything given to us and expected that would always happen. When life served up a different meal, we refused it; denied it had been given to us. We continued to live in our selfish fishbowl and believed that just because we willed it so, it was. Well, it wasn’t.
Nor could I continue to blame everything on the LaViere blood. While it was the easiest thing to do, wasn’t that once again putting myself into a selfish fishbowl? Wasn’t I disavowing that I’d contributed to his mess in some way? At the very least that my genetics had encouraged the selfish evil that dominated the LaViere heritage? After all, Worth’s father had committed the atrocities of deliberate murder, cheating, manipulation, abandonment, abuse, and control. Wasn’t Worth simply dealing with the aftermath of his father’s obliteration of the family name? Was Hawk dealing with our legacy in the same sense?
The answer came in a surprising form. I was still keeping to my room, spending hours before the window watching the farm operate under Lily’s steady hand and wondering how I could ever come to terms with the mess I’d created. Letty came up to say I had company, but I told her to say I was in bed, ill and didn’t want to see anyone. This someone didn’t take no for an answer and pushed around Letty to enter my room.
Aggravated, I looked up to see Liane.
She was almost wraithlike in her pale form but had a head of lustrous hair that decried any ill health. “I know you’re not up to company,” she said, “but I hoped you might make an exception for me. After all, we are to become family.” After a moment’s consideration, I nodded. Perhaps my salvation had just forced her way into my bedroom. I asked Letty to bring us up some tea and sandwiches and pointed to a pair of wingbacks that faced the big window overlooking the farm.
Liane sat down, neatly crossing her ankles and smoothing out the fabric of her skirt. She looked quite like a school girl in a simple A-line skirt, a white blouse with Peter Pan collar, and a soft blue cardigan sweater with pearl buttons. She wore small pearl studs in her earlobes and a serviceable watch on her wrist. She smelled like summer sunshine, and her complexion was untouched by makeup. I felt like the headmistress at a boarding school when I took the other chair. Letty appeared with a tray and set it up between us.
“Shall I pour?” Liane asked, and I nodded assent. I could afford to be generous in my control at times, and right then, I believed that was one occasion where it might be advantageous. I corrected my mental thought process at that point, realizing I was practicing old habits.
“You know,” she began, “pouring tea is an age-old custom that generally falls to the woman of the house. It was her ceremonial acknowledgement and quite the tool for superiority. She had the sole option of determining the order of presentation, how it was presented and even whether some member in the room might be excluded. I appreciate the subtlety of your allowing me to pour, and I want you to know that I will never attempt to replace you. Not in your family and certainly not in Hawk’s life.”
I flinched at the use of his new nickname but recognized it was only one of the many things I might take exception to over the upcoming years. Despite her respectful little tale, Liane was letting me know that my role was ch
anging. I was no longer the mother to a young Ford. He was an adult now and Liane would be taking on much of my former responsibilities for him.
Am I ready for this new role? I suppose I am… must be, having done such a poor job of it up until now, anyway. And what of Liane? So, this is the woman who I will entrust with my legacy, I thought to myself. Was she up to the chore?
Liane was looking at me with a question on her face, and I realized that I’d been deeply introspective and had shut her out. “I’m sorry, I’ve had a lot to process the last few days, and my mind wants to wander.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “I understand. Perhaps more than you could possibly realize. Yes, there’s been a lot that’s happened lately in my life as well. This engagement to your son came about fairly quickly.”
That was when I believed I understood. “Are you trying to hold on to a rich catch?” I asked, feeling my voice morph into the superior and very bitchy one of my mother. I hated myself for it.
Her reaction was unexpected. “I can understand why you would believe that. I would too, I suppose, if I were in your shoes. The poor daughter of a vicar happens to meet the heir to a great fortune, except he’s on the outs with them. So, she insists that he patch things up, make sure he’s in the will, so to speak. That is how it would appear from the outside. It’s very hard to explain, Mrs. LaViere—”
“Call me Auggie.” I never could stand being called Mrs. LaViere. There were too many of them ahead of me, and I wanted my own name.
“Thank you, Auggie. As I was saying, I won’t insult you by singing my own praises. Those you will discover and think through on your own. I had a feeling maybe you’d feel that way, and it’s one of the reasons I’m here. I’ve not spoken to Hawk about this, but I insist on signing a pre-nuptial that will protect him and his money. I’m not marrying him for money, I can assure you. If all you want from life is money, it’s the easiest thing to get.”