“Just a little while,” Lillie said, gazing with longing at Swain’s stiff figure. “I’ll let you know when we’re ready for the rest.”
Bonner glanced over at Swain, then back to Lillie. He nodded and stood. “I’ll be in the conference room, making some phone calls. Let my secretary know when you’re ready.” The door clicked closed behind him.
“Swain, love.”
Swain whirled to face her. Where her tanned face had been pale before, it was now red with fury, her eyes blazing. “You don’t understand, Lillie. You don’t know what I know, what Abigail and I’m sure Bonner has known all this time.” She slammed her fist on the desk for emphasis. “Do you know who I am?”
Swain thumped her fist hard against her chest. “His name is on my birth certificate. The nurse said it was just a name from a newspaper article my mother was reading. But it wasn’t, was it? I am the Wetherington bastard.”
“Yes, I do know.” Lillie’s heart was ripping, tearing with Swain’s agony. She could have pretended otherwise, but Swain already had suffered too many lies.
“You knew?” Swain yelled. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t learn any of it until right before Grandmum died. She made me promise to let Mr. Whitney tell you when her will was read. But I couldn’t keep that promise, not after…not after I realized what you mean to me. That’s what I came to the barn this morning to tell you.”
Swain turned back to the window, her words bitter. “My brother and I, Wetheringtons, were left to grow up in an institution. Herded from place to place like cattle. We didn’t have any bedtime stories, Lillie. No birthday parties. Everybody got one gift for Christmas—one thing for all the boys and another for the girls so we wouldn’t fight over possessions. We weren’t children. We were livestock the government paid them to keep. I hated every minute of it.”
Swain swiped at a tear that trickled down her cheek. “I’m glad Eric and Camille adopted you. I’m glad you had a real childhood,” she choked out. “But what kind of father was Eric that he could take a strange, unrelated child into his heart and leave his own offspring to be raised like we were? Abigail knew, too. She knew and did nothing to acknowledge me or Trey.”
“Is that what you think…that Eric was your father?” Lillie pressed herself against the rigid back and wrapped her in a tight hug. “Oh, love. When I found those photographs in Grandmum’s bedroom, I knew why she kept them hidden. That’s why I put them on the mantel where you would see them. Don’t you recognize your reflection in that window? Eric wasn’t your father. Jim Wetherington was.”
“What?” She stared at the glass.
Lillie stroked Swain’s arms, gentling her like a skittish horse. She didn’t resist when Lillie stepped between her and the window and pulled her close.
Swain spoke slowly, processing what this new information meant. “Abigail’s husband was my father?” She wasn’t ready to give up her anger, but it was damn hard to hold on to it with Lillie pressed against her. “What else did she tell you?”
“That leaving you and your brother in that orphanage was her greatest shame. She had never wanted to meet you because you would remind her of Granddad’s single infidelity. But when she saw you riding in a tournament in Florida a few months after he died, you looked so very much like him that she felt she had gotten a little bit of him back.”
Swain pushed Lillie away, her anger rising again. “I may look like him, but I’m not like him. I wouldn’t cheat on my wife and abandon my child, bastard or not.”
“There’s more to the story, but Grandmum was too weak to tell me all of it. She said Mr. Whitney knew everything that happened.”
“Did you ask him?”
Lillie’s hands were on her again, stroking down her back. “No. It wasn’t my story to hear. You’re the one who deserves an explanation.”
“I don’t know if I want the whole story.”
“You don’t have to handle it alone, love. If you’ll let me, I’ll be right here with you. Don’t you think it’s time to stop keeping secrets?”
It was all becoming clear.
Swain had thought she was the one influencing Lillie, teaching her to love the Wetherington legacy. Who better to do it than the only real Wetherington left? But the lessons hadn’t been for Lillie at all. Abigail had wanted Swain to recognize the depth of the Wetherington bloodline running through her veins. She had only sent Lillie, lovely Lillie, to soften the blow of her betrayal. Lillie had gently summoned Swain to her birthright. Her feelings for Lillie were the tether keeping her from walking out the door and never coming back.
After a time, Swain nodded. “Call Bonner back in.”
Bonner entered the office cautiously, as if trying to judge their mood.
Swain moved their chairs close together and held tight to Lillie’s hand. Her mind, her emotions were swirling, and she needed Lillie to ground her.
She stared at her lap. The wound she’d carried her entire life was about to be opened. Would knowing the truth heal that wound or maim her further? Lillie squeezed her hand, and Swain looked up into understanding brown eyes. She could do this. She turned to Bonner.
“I need to know everything.”
For the first time, Swain realized how old he appeared, how weary he seemed.
“And I need to tell it,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “Even the parts that Abigail didn’t know.”
Thirty-Two Years Earlier
To the ponies!”
Jim and Bonner clinked their highball glasses against Eric’s raised beer mug and echoed his toast. “The ponies,” they shouted.
Celebrating a successful polo match in Florida, they had arrived at the Atlanta airport only hours before. They had gone straight to their hotel to secure rooms for him and Jim and dined in the restaurant there to celebrate Eric’s birthday before he returned to his room at the fraternity house on the campus of Emory University.
“Dad, I’m going to grab a cab to take me back to campus.”
“No. We’ve just started celebrating. You’re eighteen now and finally legal to have a drink in public with your old man.”
Jim Wetherington wasn’t old. At forty-one, he was still fit and very handsome.
“Nothing but studies will make Eric a dull boy,” he warned, winking at the girl who had joined Eric for his birthday celebration.
Bonner noticed that the girl’s gaze hadn’t left Jim all evening. Women were always drawn to his blue eyes and thick jet black hair. Eric had inherited his father’s tall, athletic frame and blue eyes, but he had his mother’s dark blond hair. He had his father’s drive, but his mother’s practical nature.
“It’s been fun. Thanks for taking me to Florida with you for the match. I really miss polo here at school. But I’ve got music class early in the morning and I don’t want to be hung over.”
“It’s early. There’s a band in the lounge. We can take the party over there. Besides, I don’t think your date’s ready to go home. You’d like to stay, wouldn’t you?”
The girl nodded. “I heard the band is really good,” she said, smiling at Jim.
Eric hesitated. “I missed two days of class to go the tournament and haven’t studied all weekend.” His affectionate gaze implored her to understand.
“Go ahead, Eric. She can stay and I’ll make sure she gets home,” Bonner said. He and Eric both knew Jim had already had one Scotch too many.
She turned to Eric. “It’s okay, sweetie. I really want to hear this band, but I know you need to get unpacked and ready for class tomorrow. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll pay for a cab to take her home?” Eric asked Bonner.
“Don’t worry about it, kid. Your girl is safe with me.”
But it was clear from the minute Eric reluctantly left her, the girl wanted to be anything but safe when it came to Jim.
Bonner eyed her. She was pretty, but not beautiful, and had large breasts that were barely contained in her halter dress. They moved to a table
in the hotel lounge and, after she and Jim had another drink, she coaxed him onto the dance floor. He was buzzing, but still had a good hold on his faculties. When the music changed from fast to slow, he insisted they return to their seats.
Bonner was tired. Their waitress was busy, so he excused himself to pay their tab. While he waited for the bartender to total it, he saw Jim leave the table and walk to the restroom. The girl looked furtively around and Bonner turned so it appeared he wasn’t watching, but he could still see her in his peripheral vision. She took a small package from her purse and poured a powder into Jim’s drink.
When Bonner came back to the table, he looked pointedly at the drink to let her know he saw what she did. Her face reddened, but she held his gaze.
“I’ve paid our tab. When Jim comes back, tell him I went upstairs to bed,” he said. He pulled a clip full of cash from his pocket and extracted a fifty. “The staff at the front desk will call a cab when you’re ready to leave. This should cover the fare.”
She nodded. “Good night, Mr. Whitney. I’ll see that Mr. Wetherington gets up to his room.”
“I’ll bet you will,” Bonner muttered. “Good night.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“You saw her spike his drink and you didn’t tell him? Why the bloody hell would you do that?”
Swain was sure that if she hadn’t held tight to her hand, Lillie would have leapt over Bonner’s desk and strangled him. Startled by Lillie’s unexpected ferocity and Bonner’s reflexive flinch, she didn’t have time to react with her own anger. She tugged Lillie back to her chair.
“Let him finish.” She spoke to Lillie, but her eyes were on Bonner.
Bonner stalled, wiping his face with a white handkerchief and straightening his necktie.
“I loved Abigail. I’ve always loved her. I would do anything for her. But she loved Jim. He was the only man that existed in her eyes.” He wiped his face again. “Jim loved Abigail just as much. He was my best friend, but he didn’t deserve her. He was beginning to show signs of his father’s alcoholism and it tore her up. She begged him to get help, but he was too proud.”
Bonner seemed to gain strength as he unloaded the weight he had carried for years. “I had just found out that my wife had been carrying on an affair while I was in Columbia, serving in the legislature. When I saw that girl spike Jim’s drink, I knew what she was doing. I thought it might finally break the bond between him and Abigail, and I hoped she would turn to me.” His eyes implored them to understand. “I loved her, loved her beyond reason.”
“This girl, she was my mother?” Swain couldn’t think about Bonner’s treachery right now. She had no sympathy for him and too many questions still to ask.
Bonner shook his head at the disgust in Swain’s voice. “Don’t judge her until you hear the whole story.” He took a sip from a cup of cold coffee on his desk. “When the girl told her father she was pregnant, all hell broke loose. He, however, took for granted that Eric was responsible because they had been dating. He wanted to be paid off for being stuck with a daughter he said was damaged goods.”
“So my granddad let my dad take the blame?” Swain could feel Lillie shaking with anger.
“It was complicated. I had thought the girl was older. She had a fake ID. But she was only sixteen and Jim was forty-one. Consensual or not, his age made it statutory rape in the eyes of the law. Jim could have gone to jail. So, we let her father think it was Eric. He was young enough, less than five years older, that the law didn’t apply to him.”
Lillie persisted. “I don’t understand. If she was already dating my dad, why didn’t she just have a baby with him?”
“Because he was young, Eric thought he was in love with her. She was afraid he would want to marry her. She didn’t feel the same way about him and just wanted the money so she could get away from her father with no strings attached.”
If the rest of the story was like this, Swain didn’t know if she wanted to hear it. “So, my mother was a conniving slut, my father was a criminal, and I’m the bastard result.”
Bonner shook his head. “I’m not sure Jim was even conscious. A man doesn’t have to be aware to ejaculate when physically stimulated. He always swore he didn’t remember anything until he woke up the next morning in bed with this naked girl. He insisted that we tell Abigail. He hated himself, thinking that he had been drunk and violated their marriage. He begged her forgiveness. I thought she’d turn away from him, but she didn’t. She laid out two conditions. The girl’s father had to sign a contract agreeing to never contact them again in exchange for an arranged abortion and one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Second, Jim had to check into a rehab, dry out, and never touch a drop of alcohol again. As the family attorney, I made all the arrangements while Jim went to rehab.”
“Obviously, Abigail didn’t get everything she wanted, because I’m sitting right here,” Swain said, her voice cold.
“When the girl didn’t show up for her appointment with the doctor, I was notified. She took most of the money I had given her father and ran off. He didn’t seem to care enough to look for her, so I did some checking. One of the girl’s friends told my investigator that the father had been sexually abusing her since she was a child. The friend had helped her set up her bedroom to video one of his nighttime visits. She used that evidence to keep him from trying to find her.” Bonner’s gaze held Swain’s. “Yes, she trapped Jim. But she was desperate to get away from her father. She could have kept the appointment for the abortion, but she didn’t. She carried twins full term all alone, with no friends or family to help her.”
“What was her name?” Swain asked. Her complaints about her own bleak childhood now seemed insignificant compared to what her mother must have endured. Lillie raised Swain’s hand and brushed it with her lips in sympathy. “What was my mother’s real name?” she repeated.
Bonner opened a drawer and extracted a thick file. He shoved it across the desk to Swain. “Becca. Her name was Rebecca Louise Johnston. After she ran away, she bought a new identity—Karla Jane Butler. Everything I know is in that file. It’s yours now.”
Swain released Lillie’s hand and took it, laying it in her lap. She stared without opening it.
“Are you all right, love?”
Swain shook her head, still staring at the folder. “Did my father know the abortion never happened?”
“He was in rehab and, once he got out, he was struggling to stay sober. I told Abigail, but she never told Jim.”
Bile rose in Swain’s throat, as sour as her emotions. “I’m sure she wouldn’t want his bastards running around the house.”
“Abigail had only been able to give Jim one child. There were complications with Eric’s birth and she couldn’t have any other children. She realized that if Jim knew that another child anywhere in the world was his, he couldn’t turn his back on his own blood. But that child would constantly remind both of them of his betrayal and they would never be able to rebuild their relationship.”
“Don’t you think things would have been different if they’d known the girl drugged him,” Lillie said fiercely.
“Maybe. Yes. But if I told them, I’d lose my best friend and the woman I adored.” Bonner looked at Swain, his eyes watery. “Saying that I’m profoundly sorry, thoroughly ashamed, isn’t enough, I know. In the end, Abigail loved you. She hated herself for leaving you in an orphanage and letting you pay for her and Jim’s mistake.”
Swain stood and paced the office. She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. She wanted to be angry, but with who? Two people who were already dead and buried? An old man who’d spent a lifetime with his guilt? Her anger couldn’t change anything. Ironically, she was relieved to finally know, to never again lie in bed at night and wonder. And if she accepted this, she was suddenly the very wealthy owner of a premier polo stable.
“I…I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do,” Swain said. She looked to Lillie for help.
“Swain, Gran
dmum wanted you to have the ponies,” Lillie said. “She didn’t have the power to turn back the years and make things different. And she understood that money couldn’t substitute for growing up without a family. But she must have felt her ponies belonged to you. We both should sign the paperwork, then go celebrate finally putting this behind us.”
“There’s more,” Bonner said.
“More?” Swain and Lillie spoke simultaneously.
“Someone’s challenged Lillie’s inheritance.”
“Who would do that?” Swain asked, suddenly protective.
“Your brother.”
Swain leaned forward. “Do you know where he is? Wait, why wasn’t he included in the will? Didn’t Abigail know there were two of us?”
“Trey also had Eric’s name on his birth certificate. He turned up here only a year after the two of you left the children’s home. He was angry and demanded money. He threatened to physically harm Abigail.”
“I didn’t see him much when we were kids, but I heard he got in trouble a lot.” Swain knew her brother’s attitude wouldn’t have gotten him far with Abigail. She wasn’t the type to let anyone push her around.
“Well, he was just a lot of big talk. When he threatened Abigail with physical harm, she grabbed a riding crop and chased him out the front door. Later that day, I heard he was in a bar downtown, drunk and caterwauling about being Eric’s bastard. So, I had a couple of men who worked for me pick him up. They gave him a certified check for a hundred thousand dollars from me, put him on a plane to California, and told him that if he came back, they would feed him to the alligators in the low country. I did have an investigator keep tabs on him and we thought he had gotten himself killed in a Texas barroom brawl.” Bonner pushed another document across his desk. “Then he had a lawyer file this injunction against the probate of Abigail’s will.”
“He’s here?” Lillie asked weakly. She certainly didn’t need the money, but an uneasy feeling was scratching at the back of her mind.
Call Me Softly Page 21