Promises to Keep

by Chaffin, Char

  She nodded, embarrassment heating her cheeks. “By now, I’m sure I do. I’m certainly not proud of my weaknesses, but as your father said, I had horrible nightmares and found myself unable to leave the safety of Quincy Hall.” She shrugged. “In time, it didn’t seem to matter any longer. I stayed within these walls and cultivated a network of acquaintances who were content to visit me.” She offered a faint smile. “The rich and powerful are often regarded as eccentric, too. No one has ever questioned why I cloister myself.”

  Travis shook his head. “I’m trying to sort through all of this. Turner is a common enough name even in small towns. How can you be so sure this Franklin Turner belonged to Annie’s family?”

  Her lips parted to respond, but Ronald cut in. “Travis, I knew Henry Turner when we were both boys. Although I only saw Franklin Turner perhaps once in my life, I remember Henry speaking of his father. I remember when Franklin left his family destitute and his wife broken. He’d been a gambler all of his life. I sat on the bleachers at the ball field listening to Henry rant about his father. I think we were maybe thirteen or fourteen at the time. Franklin Turner took all of the money from the family’s savings account and skipped town one day. He didn’t leave them a single dime.”

  Travis looked back and forth between them. Ruth could see the struggle on his face and her heart ached for him. Finally he protested, “I can’t believe it. I know these people. They’re hardworking, honest and good. Maybe Mr. Turner’s father left them and never came back, but it had to be a different Turner who did this to Mother. A monster like that couldn’t be related to Annie and her folks.” There was conviction in Travis’s voice, but beneath the conviction was the plea of a little boy who didn’t want to believe bad things existed in the world.

  Ronald confirmed, “It’s the same family, son. Genetics sometimes don’t mean squat when it comes to family characteristics. Franklin Turner was a horrible human being and yet his son is kind and decent. You’ve heard for yourself the kind of woman your maternal grandmother was. It doesn’t always follow, does it?”

  While Travis pondered his father’s words, his mother cleared her throat and brought his attention back to her. Tears still glittered in her eyes, but her expression held determination. He wanted to go to her and hold her, comfort her for all she’d endured while just a child herself. He wanted to cheer on her behalf, for the way she’d overcome the misfortune of her family, her heritage.

  But her next words froze him in place. “Travis, this has been one of the most difficult days of my life, telling you what happened to me. I’d always prayed I wouldn’t have to, but you needed to be told. Knowing the full story, I’m confident you won’t be inclined to follow through with your rash and impulsive plans. As far as I’m concerned, we can let the matter drop, and get on with our lives.” She held out her hands to Travis, expecting him to rush to her side.

  Shock immobilized him. Did she think he’d snuggle into her embrace and tell her he’d never see Annie again, all on the strength of what had happened to her at the hands of a man who was two generations apart from Annie?

  She didn’t get it. Maybe he didn’t, either.

  He chose his next words with care. “Did you go to the police? What about your mother and stepfather? Were they arrested for what they did to you? After all, they were trying to sell their own child, right?”

  In spite of her calm front, Travis knew he’d offended her. However, her reply showed no hint of temper. “No, the police were never told. That was my fault. I had such a hard time speaking of it, as your father said. By the time I was able to mention names, he was no longer a threat to me. Willa, Greeley and my half-sisters had left town and I never saw them again. I never saw Nate Mason again, either. In that disgusting old man’s case, I suppose he received his just desserts for what he did. He died that same night.”

  “What? You killed him?” Travis gasped, shocked.

  Her lips curved briefly. “I will never know for sure if that hammer to his head did it, or not. To this day I couldn’t tell you how hard I swung it. Hard enough to knock him out, that’s all I can be sure of. When the police found Franklin Turner’s car in the ditch the next morning, he was dead inside it. An autopsy revealed he’d also suffered a massive heart attack. It was impossible for the pathologist to tell for sure if death had been caused by the blow to his head or from his heart attack, or possibly both.”

  “Ruth, you know it wasn’t your fault—” His father broke in.

  “No, I don’t.” She waved a hand in denial. “I will never know. I can only tell you I’m glad he’s dead, and if it was indeed my hand that killed him, then I’m proud of the courage it took for me to swing that hammer. For what he’d done to me, I doubt I’d have been labeled a murderer.”

  Travis flinched at the ugly word. No one in his right mind would slap that label on someone who’d been through such a nightmare.

  He still needed answers, though. “Did the police ever question you or Dad? Did you ever find out where your parents went?”

  “I always assumed they went back to West Virginia. I ceased to care about them the night my stepfather tore me from my chair in that kitchen and thrust me into a nightmare. As for the police talking to me,” she paused, closed her eyes for a second, “they never knew of my ordeal. Your father never reported anything. Not that I’d been taken by Greeley Mason. Or given to Franklin Turner. I couldn’t have borne anyone else knowing what happened to me, Travis.”

  “But your family, they must have been known in town. Thompkin isn’t that big. Your sisters, suddenly missing from school, wouldn’t that have raised suspicion?” He was persistent in his quest to understand everything.

  Once again, his dad answered for her. “It’s surprising, but no. Folks like Willa and Greeley Mason, living on the edge of town in the lower rent areas, often slip through the cracks. The school system was resigned to those children skipping school. Many of the people in the trailer park were transients who would pick up and go at a moment’s notice. I assumed Willa and Greeley did the same thing. Believe me, I checked.”

  His father sought to reassure both of them. “Trav, your mother wanted it to be over. I had a hard time letting it go, once she told me everything. But for her sake, I did just that.”

  “And your sisters?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Half-sisters. They have Greeley Mason for a father. That dooms them, in my opinion.”

  “And what about you, Mother? You were born poor, came from people who would sell their own kids to pay off a debt. Yet you found a way to rise above the circumstances of your old life, didn’t you? With a loving husband, a nurturing mother-in-law, you got past the bad and heaped on the good. It’s something to be proud of, wouldn’t you say?” Travis watched for his mother’s reaction.

  “Yes. I am proud of what your father and I have accomplished. You are our greatest achievement.” She shifted on the sofa, confusion on her face. “Why else would I be so concerned for your well-being, your future?”

  At the soft sound of distress his father made, Travis knew he understood where the questions were leading. He plowed ahead with determination. “Well then, Mother, wouldn’t you say Henry Turner has risen above his father’s rotten deeds, too? He has a good job. He has a loving wife and six well-behaved children. Two are working steady jobs and saving money for college. Their oldest son has been accepted into the officer training school the Air Force provides. People like and respect Henry Turner. Wouldn’t you say he, the same as you, found a way to move beyond the legacy of neglectful, abusive parents?”

  It didn’t sink in at first. The meaning behind Travis’s observation seemed initially lost to her. She started to speak, paused, frowned. Then, one of her hands gripped the sofa armrest, hard. She bit off an expletive better suited to Willa Mason than the wife of Ronald Quincy, sprang to her feet, and stood, quivering.

  “How dare you.” She bore down on Travis. “How dare you compare my life with any of those trashy Turners. You know nothing
. You understand nothing. What I suffered, what I endured at the hands of that monstrous old man. To think my own flesh and blood would turn on me this way. To think you’d choose to believe the worst of me and the better of them!”

  He knew her hurt ran deep. Yet, sometimes the only way to heal a wound was to cauterize it. Travis sighed in defeat. He sent his father a helpless shrug, and lifted his coat from the arm of his chair. Slowly, he pulled it on and zipped it up as he crossed to the side door.

  With a deep, fortifying breath, Travis faced his mother. “I don’t believe the worst of you, Mother. I couldn’t. But I do believe better of Annie and her family. I can understand why you would do all you could to bury what happened to you.”

  His eyes burned with emotion as he gazed at his mother’s ravaged face. “It breaks my heart to know you had to go through something so terrible. But it changes nothing for me, except to be thankful Henry Turner grew up normal, became a good husband and father. Someday soon, the Turners will be my in-laws. If you can’t accept it, then there’s nothing more to be said.” Tears slid down his cheeks as he whispered sadly, “I love you, Mother. Maybe one of these days we’ll be able to come to terms with all of this.” Turning away, he stepped into the foyer.

  He was almost to the front door when his mother’s shout hit the dead silence between them. “If you walk out that door, Travis, you leave without the support of the Quincy family and its legacy. Do you understand? You’ll be cut off, penniless. You’ll have nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing!”

  Travis walked through the front door and closed it behind him.

  Chapter 11

  Watery daylight shone between the trees as Travis drove toward the older section of town. The snowfall from the night before still coated the bare limbs and remained on rooftops, making a pretty holiday picture. He hardly noticed.

  Less than a quarter mile from Annie’s house, Travis pulled to the side of the road and let the motor idle while he scraped his hands over his face and wondered what the hell he was going to say to her family. He’d bet money they knew nothing of Franklin Turner’s fondness for young, virginal girls.

  The Turners used to live in Roanoke. He remembered Annie telling him how her parents moved back to Thompkin after Mark’s birth. They’d have never returned to town with a scandal hanging over their heads if they’d known about it.

  Jesus, what a mess.

  He’d looked forward to a day of Christmas shopping in Charlottesville with Annie. Maybe a movie later on before heading back to town. Now, all he could think about was the fury on his mother’s face when she figured out her story hadn’t affected him the way she hoped. No doubt she thought he’d recoil in horror, drop all contact with Annie, and then immediately call Catherine Cabot for a date. As usual, his mother had underestimated the importance of Annie in his life and in his future.

  Not any longer. She knew exactly how much he and Annie wanted each other.

  His mother was more than capable of making trouble for the Turners. He knew his dad could control some of it, but his mother had a lot of influential friends in town. A few phone calls, some words in a half dozen willing ears, and the town’s attitude toward Henry Turner and his family could quickly change from “well-liked and respected” to “undesirable and unsavory.”

  Thompkin was a nice place, but it was also a typical small town. Gossip fed the grapevine, and everyone knew each other. Older people in town thought his relationship with Annie was “sweet.” As if it were a summer breeze passing through, to blow away like so many dried-up leaves come autumn.

  Would Annie’s folks put pressure on her to stop seeing him, if his mother started any kind of trouble? The Turners cared about him, and they approved of him for their daughter. If they hadn’t, they would have put the kibosh on the friendship a long time ago. But they’d yank her out of his grasp if association with him and his family caused her pain.

  His mother was capable of anything. No matter what, someone would get hurt.

  Confused about everything except his need for Annie, Travis tried to set aside his worry as he shifted back into gear and headed toward her house.

  While she waited for Travis, Annie peeled apples for pie, a mindless task handled easily with low thought process. Nearby, her mother rolled out flaky pie dough. Mama always made sure everyone got their favorite dessert, each Christmas. Apple pie, chocolate brownies, peach cobbler, pumpkin pie . . . Christmas was a bonanza of deliciousness because her mama thought to please her family. Even the blueberry pie she and Travis enjoyed last night had been made just for him.

  Annie’s heart melted as she watched Mama’s capable hands lay the dough in pie pans. How lucky she was to have such a caring mother.

  “Mama? Mama, I love you.” The words burst from her throat as Annie tossed down her paring knife, launched herself out of her chair and straight into her mama’s arms.

  Her mama moved the pie pans aside and hugged Annie tightly. “I love you too, honey. Are you ready to tell me what’s making you so sad? Did something happen at the Quincy’s dinner last night?” she prodded.

  “Travis’s mother is a bitch! Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, but it’s true.” Annie condemned the woman, asked forgiveness and reaffirmed her original assessment all in one fast hiccupping breath. She pressed her damp cheek into her mama’s neck. “The way she treated Travis and his daddy last night was awful.” She looked up with blurry eyes. “She was mean to them. I don’t care for myself, I know she hates me. I know it’s because she thinks she’s better than anyone else. But she hurt Travis. I can’t stand to see him hurt, Mama.”

  “I know, honey. Travis is a good boy. What else happened last night?”

  “She was really mad I was there. She got Mr. Quincy all upset. He was nice and acted calm, as usual, but I could tell he was upset. He was so sweet to me. Why can’t she be nice, too? What makes one parent so mean and the other so nice, and they can stay married to each other? I don’t understand it.”

  “Neither do I. But honey, she’s his mother. Right or wrong, the way she deals with her son is her business. And she does love him.”

  Annie wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck and clung. “I’m so lucky, Mama. I wish Travis could be as lucky as me.”

  “Oh, honey. Nothing you could ever say to me could be sweeter. Thank you.”

  For several seconds they cuddled together as Annie struggled to get her emotions under control.

  Finally, her mother stepped back. “My pie crust is drying out, young lady. You pick up that knife and keep slicing. And I hope you and Travis enjoyed the pie you gobbled up last night. Not a crumb left for your poor father to put in his lunch this morning. Just who did you think you were fooling, covering the empty plate with foil?” Her voice held just the right amount of teasing admonishment to shake Annie out of the sniffles.

  Annie managed a smile as she picked up the abandoned apple. “It was good pie, Mama. Thank you.” She blinked away fresh tears when she felt her mother’s hand brush over her hair.

  Ten minutes later Travis knocked on the door, and Annie’s heart burst as it always did when she saw him standing in their small foyer. He opened his arms and she flew into them, uncaring if her mama or anyone else saw. He swung her off her feet and she released a breathless giggle.

  “Put me down! You’re all wet.” A light snow mixed with rain had kicked up in the time it took for him to park the car and walk to the door.

  He rubbed his cold nose against her neck and made her squeal. “Just a little snow. You’ll have to tough your way through it.” He pulled back and grinned at her, but she saw tension around his eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

  “You sure you still want to? You look kind of tired.” She traced the edge of his eyelid with a finger. “We don’t have to do this today, Travis.”

  “And miss out on watching you buy out the mall with all that Coffee Hut money you’ve been hoarding? No way. I’m fine, sweetheart. Get your coat and let’s take off.” He squee
zed her once more before letting her go, and Annie turned to lift her coat from the hall chair.

  As she slid her arms into the sleeves, her mama came in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Mind those slick roads, Travis. And don’t forget dinner tomorrow night, all right? Mark got home yesterday, and he says he wants to talk to you.” She laughed when Travis’s face went white.

  “Uh-oh. My big, bad Air Force brother wants to ‘talk’ with my boyfriend,” Annie chuckled. “Maybe we should shop for a weapon while we’re in Charlottesville.”

  “Annie, don’t tease him.” Her mama ruffled Travis’s hair and tugged on the lock that always seemed to curl over one eye. “I doubt Travis will need to arm himself.” Her hand cupped his face before she stepped back toward the kitchen. “Not too late, you two. No speeding and fancy driving, you hear?”

  Travis was still pale from the mention of Mark. Her oldest brother loved to intimidate the younger kids, and Travis had gotten his share over the years. She heard him swallow with an audible gulp as he answered her mama. “Yes, ma’am. I mean, no, ma’am.” He grabbed Annie’s hand and pulled her out the door. She didn’t stop giggling until he shoved her into the front seat of his car.

  Standing in the middle of the study, her arms wrapped protectively across her chest, Ruth’s bitterness showed on her pinched, angry face.

  “You have no right to dictate to me when it comes to raising our son. No right to tell me what I can’t take away from him if he fails to do as he’s told and refuses to obey. He’s a child, Ronald. You have let him control his own life for far too long. You rewarded him when he should have been punished. You gave him the lofty idea he can choose his own path, even though that path will be destructive to this family. So don’t,” Ruth’s breath hitched in her throat, “don’t stand there and tell me I have no right to take away what our son sees fit to destroy.”