At the Corner of King Street

by Mary Ellen Taylor

  His brow furrowed. “What about the baby’s father?”

  “I don’t know who he is, and, so far, my sister has been too out of it to give me a name.”

  He ran tense fingers through his hair, as he did when the weatherman predicted a hard frost. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

  “I thought I could handle it. And the launch was so important, and I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “You handled it by ditching me.”

  “I haven’t ditched you, Scott.” Fatigue warmed to slightly annoyed and then anger. “I’m trying to fix this, so I can return to the vineyard and you. If anything, I was trying to protect you from this.”

  “I thought there was more between us.” His voice rose and the baby’s eyes startled open. She looked around and her bottom lip quivered. She was ready to cry.

  “Lower your voice. I need this kid to eat so she can sleep and I can have a few hours of peace.”

  He drew in a breath and released it slowly. “I thought we shared everything. God knows, I’ve told you all about my past.”

  “Did you really want to know before the wine launch? Really?” I shook my head as his lips parted to respond. “I don’t think you wanted a family drama dropped in your lap last week. You were distracted and worried. I was trying to basically take one for the team.”

  “I’m the one that pulled her away,” Grace said. We both looked at her, having forgotten she was there.

  “Who are you? We didn’t get the chance to introduce ourselves,” Scott asked.

  “I’m Grace Shire. The aunt.” She folded her arms over her chest.

  “She’s my mother’s sister. I worked for Grace when I got out of college.”

  “I remember something about you working in a salvage yard. I thought you said she was sick.”

  The trouble with lies was remembering them. “She’s not sick. It’s always been my sister, Janet.”

  “I suffered a stroke last winter,” Grace offered. “I needed her.”

  Some of the fire melted in his gaze. “It’s been four days since the launch party.”

  “I thought I’d have it all fixed before the launch. I really did. But it’s going to take a few more weeks.” The last of the words came out as a hiss through clenched teeth.

  Taken aback by my annoyance, something he’d never seen directed toward him, he held up his hands. “Addie, I didn’t come here to fight. I came here to find out what was wrong. I was worried and needed to know why the most dependable person in my life vanished.”

  “Well, now you know.” Carrie coughed, and I pulled the bottle from her lips and rested her on my shoulder. I patted until she burped. Tired and in no mood, I settled Carrie back in my arms and nudged the bottle back in her mouth.

  When I looked up at him again, he stared at me for a long moment. “Do I even know you?”

  “You know me. But you don’t know my family. And that is my fault. When I moved away from Alexandria, I stopped talking about my family because they are chaos. Getting close to them invites mayhem. A few phone calls from my sister, and see how our lives have turned around in the last seven days? I saved you a lot of unnecessary drama by keeping them in the past.”

  He shook his head, much like a teacher would when dealing with a dull student. “We’re a team. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Aware that Grace wasn’t missing a word, I tried to soften my tone. “Because I wanted—no, I needed to keep a wall between us and the past. I needed to break with the past to survive.”

  The door downstairs opened with a bang and small steps thundered up the stairs, seconds before, “Aunt Addie!”

  Steadier, slower footfalls followed. Eric and Zeb.

  Timing is everything, and I couldn’t have timed this day better if I tried. I considered asking Zeb to leave but caught myself. Why? Bring it on. Let’s air it all out now and let Scott meet the entire clan.

  Scott stiffened as Eric came around the corner, a mash of wild daisies clutched in his hand. “Addie, I picked these for Carrie.”

  The boy glanced at Scott and stopped. The brilliant smile dimmed, and he took a step back into his father, who stood guard over him. Zeb eyed Scott, his stance growing more rigid and his jaw tensing as a swift glance sized up this stranger. “Addie, did we interrupt?”

  With Carrie cradled in my arms, I rose. “Zeb, I’d like you to meet Scott. He owns the Willow Hills Vineyard, where I work. Scott, this is Zeb and Eric Talbot. Eric is Carrie’s half-brother.”

  “Half?” Eric said. “What half?”

  Any other time, I’d have smiled. “The half that comes from your mother’s and my side.”

  Scott extended a hand and Zeb accepted it. The shake was firm, testing. “I’m afraid Addie’s kept me a little in the dark about her family.”

  Zeb released Scott’s hand. “We haven’t seen each other in a long time. Makes sense she didn’t mention us.”

  “I’m not very good about sharing stories about my family,” I said.

  Scott stepped back, rested hands on his hips. “How are you related to Addie?”

  “I used to be her brother-in-law. I was married to her sister, Eric’s mom.”

  “But she’s still my aunt,” Eric said. “That didn’t change. And Carrie will always be my sister.”

  I smiled at Eric. It was hard not to love the kid. “I just fed the baby, but you can hold her if you like.”

  He grinned and the two of us moved to the couch. He sat, scooted all the way to the back of the cushions, and I laid the now-sleeping baby in his arms. He held her close, lowering his face and whispering, “Good afternoon, Baby Carrie.”

  Scott, Zeb, and Grace stood in awkward silence for a beat before Grace cleared her throat. “Would anybody like iced tea? I’m sure I could make some up.”

  “If you don’t mind, Grace, I’d like to take a walk with Scott,” I said. “We need to talk.”

  Zeb nodded. “Eric and I will stay with the baby.”

  “Thanks. It won’t be long.”

  A somber Scott and I walked down the stairs. Neither of us said much as we walked along the brick sidewalk of King Street and then turned south on Union.

  Scott ran fingers through his thick blond hair, destroying the neat, slick look. I always considered him rugged and handsome. I appreciated that he always looked so pulled together. In a matter of minutes though, his look turned a bit crazed. I was responsible for that look.

  “I should start at the beginning,” I said.

  “Thank you.”

  “My sister is Janet and our mother was Elizabeth. Without boring you with a blow by blow, Janet inherited mental illness from Mom. Mom committed suicide. Soon after that, Janet’s quirky behavior grew a lot quirkier. Fast forward a couple of years and she met Zeb, fell in love, and was expecting Eric. I hoped she’d found her happily-ever-after life, but Janet is more like Mom than I ever realized. Soon after Eric was born, it was clear she couldn’t handle the responsibilities. She took off when he was a baby.”

  Uncorking the words bottled up for seven years and shaking them loose was as hard as I’d imagined. Some words describing unspoken dark details clung to the bottle, refusing to be freed. “She showed up a week ago, very pregnant, and in active labor. By the time I arrived in Alexandria, the baby was born.”

  His arm brushed close as we walked, but he didn’t touch me, sensing I craved skin-to-skin touch and reassurance.

  “I felt like a fool standing up there with your aunt. She must have thought me some kind of damn fool.”

  My gaze wandered ahead to the river, which meandered past. A gentle breeze touched my face. “That was my fault.”

  He stopped, those hands curling in frustration. “They know everything about you, and I know nothing.”

  “That’s not true. They know the person I was, and you know the person I
am. They may have my past, but you’ve got the future . . . if you still want it.”

  Tense seconds, stretched as tight as a bowstring, clicked between us as he stood still and silent, his jaw tense. Tired and too worn to defend myself anymore, I stared off at the river, watching the heavy current meander past. I imagined myself on the water, allowing it to flow and carry me out to the Chesapeake Bay and then to the ocean.

  Scott very carefully took my hand in his. Rough callouses brushed each other. My heart beat faster, and the tears, so carefully locked away, escaped. They burned my throat.

  “Addie, I love you. It hurts me that you cut me out.”

  “I didn’t plan to keep it all a secret. At first, I was running from a difficult family thing. I just wanted away. And then I started to fall in love with the vineyard and you, and all this would taint what we were building.”

  “I’ve told you everything about my life.”

  I swiped away a tear. “Your glittering, perfect life. That was all the more reason not to talk about mine.”

  “Don’t lay this on me.”

  “I’m not. It’s just that the more you talked, the more lacking I felt.”

  He traced a calloused thumb on my palm, sending jolts of electricity racing toward my heart. I should have trusted him. I should have been able to share. Why hadn’t I? What was wrong with me?

  “Are you coming back to the vineyard?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course.”

  “I love you.” Blue eyes searched mine. “I do love you. But I’m not ready for a baby in my life.”

  “Right. Of course. I know that.” Ten days ago, I would have been comfortable with all this, but now I was irritated. “I’m trying to fix this.”

  He pulled me into his arms and relaxed into me. “I want you home soon.”

  I pressed my hands to his chest, felt the beat of his heart under my fingertips, and savored the warmth of his body. “I’ll take care of it all.”

  “Can I help you? I know attorneys in the area.”

  “No. That’s not necessary. I’m working with a social worker.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” He smiled and cupped my face. “The child deserves a good home.”

  “Yes, she does.”

  “But not with us.”

  I stiffened. “I know.”

  His lips grazed mine. “I miss you so much.”

  “Me, too.” Most of the demons had escaped Pandora’s Box, and somehow we would survive. I hoped we would be stronger for it, and that one day I’d share the last secret. But to allow the last demon free, well, that terrified me. One thing to hide a past, quite another to alter another’s future. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

  “I can’t. I have to get back. It was a stretch to get away for the day. Three more weeks and you will be home, right?”

  Home. “Not much longer.”

  He cupped my face and kissed me gently on the lips. “Good. You belong in the country with me.”

  We walked hand in hand to his car. He kissed me again and then slid behind the wheel of the gray Audi and lowered the window. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Yes.”

  “Addie, if you need me, call. I’m here for you.”

  “Yes. I know. I know.”

  He backed out of the drive and drove down King to Union Street. I stood watching his car until it turned at the corner and vanished.

  He’d smiled, held me close, and told me everything was going to be fine, but he gave me a tenderly delivered ultimatum. Him or the baby.

  Closing my eyes, an uneasiness gripped me as I glanced at the warehouse. The choice was clear. And it should’ve been easy. Scott or the baby. A week ago, it would have been Scott. But somewhere along the line, black and white blurred to a watery gray, erasing the perfect choice. Left or right, up or down, either way I went I was going to lose.

  “Addie?” Zeb’s deep voice vibrated with curiosity and annoyance.

  “Yes?”

  He looked around, holding back words, in case we weren’t alone.

  “He’s gone,” I said.

  That square jaw moved, grinding. “He’ll be back.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes.”

  I stabbed trembling fingers through my hair, dirty and greasy from sweat and fatigue. “I dumped a truckload of info on him. Stuff I’ve never told him before. He said it was going to be okay, but a two-hour car ride gives him plenty of time to think.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him about all this before?”

  “Do you go around telling the gals you date about the crazy family you married into?”

  “It’s never gotten to that point with me. But you and Scott have been together a few years.”

  “I thought time would make a difference. I thought distance would make it all easier to talk about, but the greater the distance, the less I wanted to talk about it. The more time that passed, the easier it was to pretend the past never mattered.”

  “It always matters.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  He arched a humorless brow. “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “Like it or not, Janet is not going to be able to take care of the baby. Not now, the near future, maybe ever. Social Services might be able to place her for adoption.”

  The knot in my gut returned. “I haven’t been thrilled with the choices so far.”

  His expression softened. “There are lots of families waiting for adoption.”

  “How many do you think know about handling a mentally ill teenager?”

  A dark brow arched. “You don’t know if she’s sick.”

  “I’m a worst-case-scenario girl.”

  “Have you considered taking the baby to the vineyard? You and Scott could raise her.”

  I picked at a loose thread on the waistband of my jeans. “He doesn’t want a child now.”

  “He said that?” His terse tone sharpened each word.

  I could feel Zeb’s anger. Pulsing. Not a minor storm, but a hurricane that, if unleashed, could destroy everything around it. “Yes. He was very clear about that.”

  The anger swirled. “You don’t want to give her up and you can’t raise her with Scott. And we’re in agreement that Janet can’t do this alone.”

  “I’ve got some thinking to do. Choices to make.” I smiled, hoping it would make me feel better, but instead my mood soured. One problem with no good solution. Turning from him, I headed inside.

  I moved toward the table of trinkets and skimmed my fingers over the top of a collection of china cups covered with roses that we’d removed from the basement.

  “The baby is sleeping,” he said.

  “Great. That means I might be able to get an hour or two of cataloguing done. Be nice if I could sort what we have and get it posted online. Money will come in handy for Janet when she gets back on her feet.”

  “You can’t give her money, Addie. She’ll spend it all on junk.”

  I picked up a bone china teacup covered in roses. How had something so fragile remained intact in the face of so much neglect and abuse? How had it survived when the others in the set didn’t? “I know. But I can dream.”

  He moved behind me, not touching me, but so close his heat warmed my back. “Addie.”

  My name sounded rough, as if saying it scraped against his throat. “Yes?”

  “You’re doing a good thing.”

  Stinging tears clogged my throat, and I knew if I faced him and met his gaze, I’d cry. I had been in Alexandria less than two weeks, but fatigue battered my defenses. Today’s encounter with Scott fed the fear, making it grow like a weed on fertile ground.

  Zeb’s breaths were slow and steady and I counted each. One. Two. Three. He wanted me to turn around and face him. This I could feel.
Look at me. Me. And God help me, I wanted to face him. Look him in the eye with a defiance that told the world I had this all under control. But Scott’s sweet, soft words of rejection stripped my emotions raw.

  I didn’t turn around. Didn’t dare. Because in this moment of isolation and fear, I felt an uncommon pull to Zeb. I sensed or maybe imagined a desire bubbling under the surface for what felt like centuries. To my great shame, I wanted him to hold me, even as logic warned that I couldn’t bear the weight of more secrets and lies.

  And so I stood stock straight, barely breathing until I heard him release a breath, turn on his heels, and call for Eric. The boy bounded down the stairs, and I wondered when I ever felt that light or free. When had I been a kid? When had I last laughed?

  “See you later, Aunt Addie!” Eric shouted.

  I cleared my throat, pressed cool fingertips to flushed cheeks, and smiled before I turned. “Later, Eric.”

  Zeb’s head was partly turned toward the door and partly toward me. But if he was tempted to look back at me, he didn’t. Instead, he squeezed his son’s shoulder and the two left.

  Steady, even footsteps mingled with steps full of energy and light.

  July 5, 1751

  Penny is up and about, feeling more herself today. She has lost weight but she will survive. I didn’t dare tell her about my visit to Faith for magic herbs. Mistress Smyth visited today. She came bearing scones and gossip. Faith, she said, delivered twin boys. Mistress Smyth heard the woman barely labored more than an hour before she delivered the lusty, plump children.

  Chapter Twenty

  I wandered back into the first floor of the warehouse and instead of going upstairs, I moved toward the table of newly sorted items. I walked along the table, touching each item, summoning the energy that some items released. My fingertips grazed over doorknobs, the old clock, toys, shoes, and a mirror, but all the items were stubbornly silent. Served me right. The past wanted nothing to do with me.

  The front door opened with a burst of energy and I turned to see Margaret. “Addie. What’s happening? I just saw Zeb, and he looks pissed.”

  “My boyfriend just found out about my family, and then he nicely told me he doesn’t want to raise a baby, and left.”