The Life After War Collection

by Angela White

  Angie

  Mary pointed to a seat and shut the study doors. She had long robes over white undergarments again, playing the holy act, but I knew better. She was about to demand a payment for all her help. I had decided that I wasn’t going to do anything dirty, but if she had an honest job, I would consider it.

  “Have you chosen a career yet?” Mary asked casually, sitting down behind her desk.

  “Sort of,” I responded as she adjusted those glasses so she could peer down her nose at me.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I might be an author. I might try to do something more important. I’m not sure yet.”

  “Typical teenage answer,” Mary murmured, drawing a paper from her middle drawer. “I wanted to be a dump truck driver for a while.”

  I studied her in suspicion. Until I got sick, Mary Brady had never once spoken to me unless she had to, and here she was telling me about her childhood. What the hell?

  “Did you know that Jeanie moved?”

  I tensed. I couldn’t help it.

  Mary flashed a tiny, cold smile. “Her father had a run of good luck and paid me off. Then, he moved and refused to say how he could afford it.”

  I shrugged, trying to recover. “Good for them.”

  “Indeed,” Mary agreed, locking onto me with gleaming orbs that I feared.

  “I have a job for you. If you do what you’re told and you do it well, you’ll be rewarded.”

  “With Marc?” I immediately wanted that verified.

  Mary’s upper lip curled, but she nodded. “In time, yes. You’ll settle down in the far country with other relatives. No one there will care what you do.”

  I frowned. “You told Marc we would be able to be together openly.”

  “And you will. Just not here.”

  “You lied to him.”

  “I told him what he wanted hear.” Mary studied me knowingly. “Like you do.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Mary smirked. “Does my son think the liberties he takes with you are new?”

  She was asking if Marc knew the things Georgie had made me do. I flushed. “He would have gone to jail by now over it. I protected him.” Unlike you, I thought.

  “I’ve done much the same, Angela. You don’t think so now, but if the truth about your relationship were to come out here, it would ruin more lives than just yours and his.”

  “You deserve to go down,” I told her, no longer as scared as I was mad. “You knew Georgie was bad and you didn’t do anything to help me or my mom.”

  “Why would I?” Mary asked, not hiding her cruel enjoyment. “I arranged for Georgie to comfort Frona a long time ago. I’m only surprised over his…obsession with you.”

  Before I could form a response, Mary hit me again.

  “It’s because of the witch you carry.”

  Panic.

  I had no idea how to react, and Mary took my silence for confirmation. I was afraid to deny it. She’d brought it up and that meant she had witnessed something.

  “You owe me, young lady. Those gifts will come in very handy while Marcus strengthens my hold over this family.”

  I stared in stunned silence, but as usual, Mother Brady had it covered.

  “If you refuse, all the protection that you’ve had this year will vanish. Marcus won’t know, of course, and by the time he finds out, it will be much too late. I’d imagine that Georgie discovering the truth about you would be enough to ensure that an hour alone with him would feel like days.”

  I shivered at the threat, certain she was right. I’d always hoped Marc and I would be gone before Georgie found out.

  “Your refusal will also violate the deal I’ve made with Marcus,” Mary informed me, destroying any hopes I had for that future, as well.

  “He’ll be arrested for the things you two have done. A few years in prison might straighten him out.”

  Trapped.

  Mary read my expression in satisfaction. “Now that we’ve got that ugly business out of the way, it’s time for you to give me an act of good faith. I have to know you won’t tell Marcus about this talk until after he’s taken my chair.”

  “How?” I asked warily.

  “Heal me.”

  I gasped as the witch inside flatly refused. “What?”

  Mary shoved the paper across the desk. “Heal me.”

  I quickly scanned the doctor’s form, but I still found no sympathy for her when my diagnosis was confirmed. If not for her threats, I wouldn’t even consider it.

  “What are you waiting for?” Mary demanded arrogantly. “Pay your debt.”

  “We’re even, if I do?”

  Mary laughed harshly at my validation. “We’ll never be even, Angela. I own you now, like I do Marcus and the rest of this ungrateful family.”

  “How long have you known?” I asked, trying to buy time to think of a way out.

  “The tornado.”

  I blanched. She’d known since I was eleven.

  “Marcus making a miraculous recovery after your visit confirmed it,” Mary told me, putting the paper back in her drawer.

  “You sent me up there!”

  “Of course. I couldn’t let him die. You never would have agreed to become my…employee.”

  I was almost too dazed to form a complete sentence. “It’s not… You want me?”

  Mary smirked nastily as she dropped the final stone. “He has no value to me, except as a way to control you. I gave you my son, Angela. Now, you’ll give me your power.”

  1998

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Family Business

  January

  Marc

  In January of 1998, I finally learned the truth about our family business. Horror was my first reaction.

  When males came of age, they were sent to another town where Mary wanted to increase the Brady holdings. She provided a small business like a mechanic shop or an appliance store–which incurred a loan with heavy monthly interest–and the new man happily went forward to start what he thought would be a new life, free of control.

  We all should have known better. Each business ran drugs, guns, and a betting hub that paid a cut into my mother’s accounts. She was indeed the hypocrite that I’d imagined but much, much worse. I quickly discovered that there was no refusing the setup once the deal was made. By the end of the first day of my tour, I understood too much about my family and none of it was good.

  I wasn’t impressed by the small shops in Grayson or the large pond across the street as we pulled in. Everything was dingy, neglected, ominous even. I’d been hoping for better accommodations after that long drive.

  Douglas got out and opened my door in front of a laundry mat that was lined with half a dozen unfriendly faces. I recognized two of them. The first was my uncle Bean, the owner. He had a drinking problem, which was why he’d been sent to this dusty town in Oklahoma. His wife, Angel, was trying to reform him with church, but it didn’t appear to be working. He was swaying with a breeze that didn’t exist.

  The other man was Larry. It was a surprise to find him here. On the ride down, Douglas had begun telling me how things really worked. I’d been too shocked to say much, but the anger was finally coming. In all of our conversations, Larry had never mentioned this side of our lives.

  To his credit, Larry dropped his gaze in shame as I walked by.

  “Sorry to see you here, boy,” he muttered lowly.

  “Not as sorry as I am,” I replied. He’d followed Mary’s orders to keep me out of it. She was the evil boss, but this destroyed my relationship with Larry. All my respect shattered at his snow boots.

  It was hard to hide all my thoughts as I entered the laundry mat and walked straight to the private rooms that Douglas had assured me were there. Not waiting for a welcome or invitation was my way of showing them how serious I was.

  The laundry mat held a dozen rusty machines on each side of the room, but no customers
. The back areas were full of parts and dead shells that had sacrificed themselves to fix the other washers and dryers. It didn’t appear as though this business made good money, but Douglas had told me not to judge anything by just appearances. It was supposed to look this way.

  I glanced pointedly at the guard in the final storage room. The tall, older man wore a gun on his hip and a wary expression that he studied me with for a moment. Then he opened a panel in the closet that revealed steep, brick stairs going down into a wide, dank hallway. I entered without hesitation.

  The door shut behind us, and Douglas stayed close while we went down the hall. I wondered if he knew what I was going to do. He was aware of Mary’s plans and plots, but did he suspect mine? Over the years, it had occurred to me that the driver was much smarter than I’d given him credit for. How else had Douglas managed to remain with my mother for so long? And then it hit me.

  I stopped outside a final door and turned to the man who tensed as if I were about to punch him. In a way, I was.

  “What does she have on you?”

  His face fell through the stairs, and I leaned patiently against the damp door, blocking our way. “Doug?”

  As I stared at his black hair and blue eyes, horror slapped me again. “You’re a Brady!”

  It was obvious now. I didn’t need his shameful nod. “What did you do to be punished so badly?”

  I expected him to answer me with details, but he shoved by, saying, “Same thing you’re about to do, kid.”

  That meant he did know my plans, and if he knew, so did Mary.

  As Douglas entered the room, I took a moment to reexamine my course of action. Did this change anything?

  Yes, I admitted reluctantly. I would have to do the exact opposite of what Mary was expecting. Instead of the thinly veiled threats that I’d hoped to use to convince them to overthrow my mother, I stepped into the room and greeted the leadership here with an awed smile. I’d known I may have to change my plans while on this tour, but I hadn’t expected it to be at the very first stop.

  The people here had been told to expect the hard sell, but I didn’t bring up the idea of rebelling. I only acted honored by the men I was introduced to. It made me want to vomit into my mouth, but I got through it by picturing the confused leeriness Mary would feel upon receiving this report.

  I did great through all the explanations of how the laundry mat worked and how much money was sent in to Mary or the family fund, which I learned contained roughly a million and a half in gold, cash, and bonds. My dear mother had been busy over the last decade, but I excelled at math and suspected there was a lot more. This one store brought in over a hundred thousand a year, twenty-five percent of which our patriarch received between the cuts and loan payments. A million, after ten years, was short to me for even one store, but I had 35 of them on my tour list! When this trip was finished, I would spend a little time with a pad of paper and estimate the true family worth. Then I had to figure out where it was stashed, because if the Brady’s were millionaires, the government should be up our asses, wanting their share. My mother had found a way around that. I wanted to know what it was. Calling the IRS on her would be even worse than tattling to the FBI.

  When Douglas led me outside a few hours later, we were set to have dinner at whatever local restaurant there was, then we would book a room at a nearby hotel. Everything changed as we reached the car.

  Douglas pointed to the pond, where my uncle Bean and his wife were sitting on the edge, talking quietly. Bean looked upset.

  I spotted the white van rolling toward them a second later.

  “Who is that?” I watched in horror as the van sped up, heading right for the couple who was unaware of the danger.

  “They sit there every day at this time,” Douglas confided in a horrified whisper. “They said it’s the most peaceful place they have.”

  The van was flying toward them now. I instinctively started to go help my family.

  Douglas grabbed my arm and swung me around. “She said if you interfere, the deal is broken and she’ll have Angie scrubbing toilets in her house before the end of the day!”

  To hear someone else blurt such a threat openly was more than I could handle. The freeze melted in a wild swing that took the driver down.

  Knocked backward, Douglas fell to the ground awkwardly, but there was no surprise. He was used to this reaction from the people Mary held hostage.

  I twisted around as the van reached the point of no return, unsure what would happen, but determined not to interfere. These people mean nothing to me, I repeated silently. Angie means everything.

  Bean and Angel were finally standing up, but it was too late. The van smacked heavily into the surprised couple, lifting Bean into the air. There were agonized screams and an awful crunch as they both disappeared under the murky water.

  The van’s black-masked driver jumped out and the van kept going, plunging into the scummy liquid on top of the victims. He got up and took off running toward the highway, where I could just make out a parked truck with someone waiting behind the wheel.

  I looked back at the sinking van, wondering if Bean and Angel were fighting to get out from an under it or if they’d been killed from the impact. My stomach crawled as I imagined I could feel their terror.

  Townspeople rushed toward the pond. Brady men blended into the group, but none of them went into the water and they didn’t ask anyone else to. I stayed with Douglas, who had stood up and forced me forward to be a part of the rubbernecking crowd. It was the last place I wanted to be, but I was hoping someone might come out of this alive. Bean drank and Angel prayed. Neither was a threat to my mother. In fact, I was already sure that her only rival for control would be me.

  “That’s why she did this!” I realized, making Douglas jerk me toward the side of the pond that held fewer strangers.

  “Because of me!”

  Douglas took pity on my instant guilt, I think, because he shook his head.

  “She did it because she can, kid. Wake up. She doesn’t care about anything but control and even that is negotiable. She’s a mean, nasty bitch, and we’re all stuck with her.”

  Instead of being surprised by his words, I scanned the family around us. The men were desperate, fearful, and angry, but not outraged enough to allow my words to make any difference. Anything I might have said earlier would have been forgotten as we watched two family members be murdered. My mother hadn’t set this up just for me. She’d done it because she knew there were a few people who might have supported my ideas on rebelling, like Douglas and Larry.

  “She owns us,” Douglas whispered distantly, mind clearly in the past. “We all need something and she controls it. For Larry, it’s Judy. He does love her, though Judy can’t stand him. That’s what happens when a man has to rape his wife, when marriages are arranged based on money or power For me, it was trying to stand up to her when I got to where you are now. After she destroyed what I needed, she made me serve her directly. Payback wasn’t enough. I’m an example to everyone.”

  Douglas glanced at me in shame and warning. “Your weakness is that girl. We all have something we need, something we would die for, and your mother controls it. If you don’t want to see Angie become a drugged-out whore in the basement of one of these shops, then stop fighting your place in this family. Being her son will not protect you.”

  As I stood there, stunned by being related to someone so evil, Douglas took my elbow and led me toward the car.

  “She said you shouldn’t be here when the police show up.”

  I let him put me in the backseat, where I could see the pond. Half a dozen brave townspeople had gone in to attempt a rescue. I wished them luck, feeling guilty that I hadn’t helped anyway. I was also relieved. If I had talked to the family about rebelling, I might have been causing Angie’s death. My mother was worse than I had ever imagined. All our plans were in danger.

  I glared at Douglas in the mirror as he shifted into drive. “I don’t owe you anythin
g.”

  “No.”

  “Do you owe me?” I asked, hearing sirens coming in our direction.

  The man shrugged, pulling onto a side road that would get us out of sight. “I owe your mother. That’s pretty close.”

  “And if I asked you to risk her wrath, for anything, your answer would be?”

  “Not on your life.”

  “She still has something to hold you with,” I guessed, numb to the guilt and the disgust. “Our activities, our conversations? You tell her everything?”

  This time, Douglas hesitated.

  “I may sometimes…censor the report. You’ve had a little more freedom than she wanted, but a lot less than you’ve thought. She knows about most of what you don’t want her to.”

  The confirmation couldn’t break through my haze of concentration. I would find a way out of this. “As long as I keep our deal, I’m good?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “But?” I pressed.

  Douglas sighed, obviously taking pity on me. “She had that gleam. If you made a deal where you get to be with that girl, don’t count on your mother upholding it. Something will happen and she’ll be gone. Mary will tell you it was out of her control, but I think you know now that it never happens that way in our family, right? She’s never out of control.”

  If that was true, then Mary knew about our plans to run. I leaned against the seat and shut my eyes, but I could still see uncle Bean flying through their air, screaming. Our date for leaving had to change. If Mary knew we were going, she also knew when.

  “I think you and I should find a bar and get drunk,” I stated tiredly, not opening my eyes.

  To my delight, Douglas let out a chuckle of nervous relief.