“What?” I lean in trying to hear him. “What did you say?”
“I’m illiterate.” Corbin turns around quickly, glaring at me. “I said I can’t read. Now you’ve got another reason to feel better than me.”
“What– huh?” I’m not surprised, but I am. “That doesn’t mean you can’t work.”
Shaking his head left and right, Corbin is dismembering me inside his mind. “It does when you get fired ‘cuz of it, or when you fuckup and get someone hurt ‘cuz you can’t read.” Like Willa, Corbin’s diction shifts with great emotion, just like when he’s drunk. “Or when the guys find out, and they beat the piss out of ya like in little school.”
“So learn!” I nearly shout, flabbergasted. “You’re the exact reason I opened the Life Skills Center.”
“I tried!” He bellows back. “It was like reading gibberish. Nothing made sense.” Corbin takes a few gulping breaths to calm down. “Until Wynn, no Gillette has ever graduated high school. They’re real smart, but Warren and Willa only made it to eighth grade.” Corbin turns his back to me again, unable to face me. “Warren was struggling, getting into fights. He beat up his English teacher because the asshole didn’t believe that he couldn’t read. The kids were picked up by a social worker, and it took two minutes for the lady to figure it out. They were sent home to us that same day, the teacher was suspended, and we learned Warren was dyslexic.”
“Warren can read,” I remind Corbin, refusing to bring it to his attention that I was the one who hired the tutor.
“I know– they taught him how.” Large shoulders curving, head lowered, Corbin shrinks into himself. “But nobody ever taught me how.”
“Jesus Christ!” I yank at my hair out of sheer frustration. “Stop making it impossible to hate you.”
“I asked Kade to find someone to teach me,” Corbin tugs my heartstrings. “I’m sure there’s more people dotting the hillsides whose letters get jumbled up.”
This time I breathe the benediction. “Jesus Christ, Corbin.” I stomp around in a circle, thinking. “Being dyslexic, having a shitty life, that doesn’t excuse the horrible things you’ve done. You’re a drunk, a wife beater– eh!” I stop him. “Hitting Cora in retaliation for hitting your kids doesn’t make it right. Selling your kids, no matter the reason is wrong. Murder–”
Gargling, words getting choked off by the hand squeezing my throat. My eyes flick up to see my son standing in the distance, but the traitor makes no move to help his father. Fingers tightening, spittle flying out between clenched teeth, Corbin tries to control himself as the Gillette in him erupts.
“You are not God.” Firmly in control, fingers tighten against my throat but do no harm. “You don’t get to pass judgement on me. You don’t get to approve my reasons. You don’t get to stand on your pedestal of self-righteous indignation when my sins were for your benefit.” Abruptly I’m released, falling to my ass. My palms curl into the leaves and pine needles lining the ground. “I’m not a murderer– I protected you. I saved your life. I was exonerated, so stop making me feel like a monster when if it was anyone but me I’d be a hero.”
“Corbin–”
“No! Shut up!” He points down at me, enraged. “You get to listen. I drank because I felt small, helpless. Powerless. I was terrified someone would come into my home and kill my family because of what I’ve done for you– you make me feel small,” he drawls, voice thick with betrayal. “I couldn’t work. My life was derailed by your brother. I thought you’d changed when you opened the Life Skills Center, but you’re still calling me worthless for the same things you sympathize in others. Just like Wynn does!”
Speechless, I stammer nonsense. My eyes light on my son as he stands a few feet away, watching but doing nothing to help. “Just another kind of therapy,” Brennan murmurs. “Willa thought it time you two cleared the air. Can’t have you hating on your future father-in-law, now can we?”
“Brennan,” I issue as a warning as I climb to my feet. Dusting my ass off, I’m at a loss of what to do or say. Nothing like being taken down a couple dozen pegs by your arch-nemesis and feeling guilty for being an asshole.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter begrudgingly, words thick on my tongue, refusing to completely spill from my mouth. “That’s all I got.”
“Quit paying me off so you don’t feel guilty.” Corbin has my number. “All I want is some gratitude. The only Kennedy to ever thank me was Brennan.”
“What?” I gasp, snapping my head to the side to look at my son, who is refusing to look at me.
“Donny didn’t take none too kindly to me killing off the bastard who twisted up his head. He was in love with Sean. It took two years before he contacted me from prison… to apologize but never say thank you. Willa had to read me the letter.”
Corbin’s face twists up in agony, and I don’t have the balls to speak just yet.
“Bren– Bren heard the shot, ran outta the twins’ bedroom, and he didn’t look horrified with what he saw. Donny was screaming at me about how much he hated my guts. Willa was busy helping you while your brother flipped his shit. Bren came right up to me and told me thanks for saving your ass, and then helped me drag Sean off ya.”
My head whips around, eyes lighting on my son. “You only told me you saw– that was it.”
“Don’t!” Corbin orders, like he fears I’ll harm my son. “Bren’s a good kid, knows about loyalty. You leave him be.” Stepping away from us, Corbin begins striding across the cemetery. “Gotta pay Donny’s respects for him.”
Gazing after Corbin’s broad back, I flounder with something to say. “Thank you?”
Corbin flips around, fury etched across his features. “Don’t say it again until you mean it,” he warns. Then he’s dropping down to his knees by my daddy’s headstone, head bowed in silent prayer.
Brennan and I engage in a stare-off, neither one of us blinking. He’s challenging me to speak so he can hand me my ass, same as Corbin Gillette just did. Emotions roiling, I’ve never been more confused in all of my life.
“I– I just don’t understand,” I mutter, gaze never breaking from my son’s. “Why lie to me? Why not tell me the truth?”
Turning, Bren starts toward the truck. “Asks the man who keeps the biggest secrets.”
“Touché.” Feeling defeated but realizing I needed the ass-kicking, I follow my son. “I’ll be clearing the air in two days… what about you?”
“You first.” Bren slips into the truck cab, slamming the door behind him. I crawl in, feeling small and worthless. “As soon as you tell Wynn about the kids, I’ll tell you what’s going down with me, but not a moment sooner. You haven’t earned my truth yet.”
“Fair enough.” I crank over the ignition. “Truce?”
“Dad.” Bren’s voice wavers with annoyance. He turns to face me while latching the seatbelt. “We’re always in a truce. No secret is too big for us. You just have to let it go.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Ain’t that the goddamn truth?” As I drive from the cemetery, Bren’s eyes stay glued to Corbin praying over my daddy’s grave. “Leave him alone– he’s doing better without us in his life. Warren’s been playing keep-away with you and Corbin for the past year while he got his shit together. He doesn’t need your kind of help.”
Flinching, “You make me sound like the bad guy.”
Voice gruff, Bren stares at the side of my face. “There are two sides, and both sides think they’re right. Neither one of you is a bad guy, but neither one of you is right.”
The Power of the Bonfire
Not saying another word on the drive home, Brennan allows me to contemplate all my wrongs. I realize for someone who loves to preach open-mindedness, my eyes sure have been squeezed shut to the things I didn’t want to see.
Punching me in the arm, “Stop looking like I kicked your puppy,” Bren teases me as I pull into the driveway. “Remember? We’re to be thankful for the sacrifices others have made. It’s not up to you to dictate
whether or not they can make those sacrifices, so you can’t feel guilty once they do. Just let it go.”
“Easier said than done,” I murmur again as I get out of my truck. Lost in thought, Bren grabs my wrist, yanking me toward the backyard, where three tents are erected a few feet from the roaring bonfire.
Backs resting against the logs, Willa’s showing the kids how to start a fire by rubbing two sticks together, while Kade and Wynn chat animatedly with Jackson. No doubt they’re making a game plan for once they get to West Virginia U.
Scrawny chest puffed out, “Behold–” Bren gestures wide with his hands, gaining everyone’s undivided attention. “–the restorative powers of the almighty bonfire!”
Chuckling, I put my kid in a headlock, and then kiss his forehead. “Dumbass. Always picking on dear ol’ dad.”
Dropping to take a seat, Bren looks around with a huge smile on his face– the first real, genuine smile I’ve seen in months. “Dad got his ass handed to him by Corbin.” With a wink in my direction, “He’s a bit rubbed raw right now.”
“My daddy?” Wynn’s voice is thick with emotion, betrayal and sadness, and I realize he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of his dad since he left Gillette Holler nearly sixteen months ago. “You didn’t hurt each other, did ya?”
Face twisted with sadness, Willa looks concerned, but she doesn’t meddle, leaving me and Wynn to work it out on our own.
“We had some stuff we had to talk about.” I don’t sit, not in the mood to socialize, even if it’s with my children. “We had to clear the air, so to speak.”
“I saw Papaw a few days ago,” Hayden spills without thought. “He quit drinking.”
Betrayal washes over Wynn’s face, causing Kade to put a heavy palm on his chest. “Stay. Easy now.” Kade talks him down, coaxing and soothing the Gillette temper. “I talked to your daddy, too. I was there. I think it best if you have a visit with him before you leave for school. Trust me. Maybe meet at the center or something.”
“Daddy doesn’t want a lick to do with me.” Wynn turns away from us, hiding his face. “He sold me for a new roof and some windows.”
In the past, I would have comforted Wynn, given him sage advice on how Corbin’s behavior didn’t have anything to do with Wynn. I hadn’t realized my opinions were tinted with the color of jealousy. So instead of being selfish and solidifying Wynn’s and my relationship, I do the only thing I should. I don’t need to keep Wynn in my life by keeping him out of his daddy’s. I need to trust Wynn’s judgement.
“Wynn?” I call out, gaining his attention but he won’t look at me. His shoulders are curled just as Corbin’s had been earlier. “Corbin wants to see you– needs to see you. The decision’s yours, but I think it’d be best if you’d see him.”
I let Wynn feel what he’s feeling with the only amount of privacy I can offer– I don’t push.
Mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted, just as Dr. Cassidy predicted, saying this would be the most trying week of my life, the only thing I want to do is sleep. Turning, I catch sight of Willa. She has tears glistening in her eyes as she mouths, “Thank you,” for only me to see.
“Well, I see you have everything you need out here,” I say, pointing at the hotdogs and s’more fixings, then the tents beyond. “I’m hitting the hay. Have a good night. I love ya. Blah, blah, blah,” I repeat Donny’s words, feeling amused and comforted by the fact.
Every eye is on me, stunned that I’m denying the almighty power of the bonfire. Turning, “Willa?” I call as I stride across the yard. “Git your ass in our bedroom– the big shits can watch the little shits one last time before they run off to their college life.”
Bren’s, “Holy shit!” has me chuckling as I mount the back steps. “Our bedroom? Since when? Does that mean what I think that means?”
“We should hassle Royce like he does us.” Kade’s no doubt razing Wynn. “See how he likes it.”
“Excuse me,” Willa says demurely, voice getting closer. “Kids, you mind Uncle Kade.”
“Where ya going, Momma?” Hayley’s asking as I’m opening the screen door to the kitchen. I slip in, and then rest my back against the outer wall, curious to see what they say.
“Momma and Daddy are tired,” Willa tells the truth, but then her voice switches over to a naughty giggle. “Nobody steps foot into this house until morning, or they will be dealing with me.”
“Oooooo, scary,” Kade taunts. “Royce better be relaxed in the morning, or I’m gonna doubt your feminine wiles!”
“You know nothing of feminine wiles,” Willa taunts back. “I know how to work a D better than you do, and that’s saying a lot since you have one.”
“Oh!” “Burn!” Jack and Bren shout in unison, with Wynn snickering, “Them’s fightin’ words!”
Hayden’s, “What’s a D?” has me smothering a laugh. “Do I have one?”
“It’s yer willy.” Hayley sounds just like her momma.
“Oh!” Hayden’s voice rises in pitch. “I got me one of those.”
Willa’s chuckling into the back of her hand when she steps into the house. My whispered words ring out in the deafening silence from the shadows of the kitchen. “Their questions will never end. You started a riot out there.”
Jumping, “Royce!” puffs out from between Willa’s lips at the same time her palm covers her heart. “You gave me a scare.”
Eyeing Willa’s face, I tug on her blouse, drawing her into my arms, and I instantly feel at peace. “That was very naughty of you. The boys won’t get a lick of rest with the twins pestering them.”
“Better to keep ‘em out of our hair,” Willa replies in a saucy tone. Blue eyes softening, “You doing okay?”
I think that over for a second to the background of my little ones driving the big kids nuts. “Yes? No? Maybe? I don’t think so?” Brow raised, I wait for Willa to answer for me. “Do any of those answers fit?”
Raising her brow, mocking me, she supplies, “All of the above?” Tugging on my hand gripping her blouse, “Same here. C’mon.” Curling her fingers through mine, Willa draws me up the stairs, down the hallway, and into my bedroom. “Did you really mean what you said?”
Standing in the middle of my bedroom, the room where Willa and I have shared my bed many times over the past five years when she was high out of her mind and I was emotionally distraught. But not once since she was sober, because I’ve been the one who was broken, lost– in denial.
“I thought I was waiting until you were ready,” I whisper to Willa. I fight the urge to look away, but her strength fortifies me. “But it was me all along, wasn’t it?”
Willa simply answers, “Yes,” while slumping against the door in relief.
Walking backward, my ass lands on the edge of the mattress. “How did you survive looking over your shoulder for monsters you couldn’t see?”
“By taking psychotropic drugs with a heroin chaser.” Willa’s as blunt as ever. “I’d suggest you don’t go down that particularly destructive path.”
Kicking off my sneakers, I snort.
“So, you could say, I didn’t exactly succeed in surviving it. But seeing my momma smack Hayley for the first time– that flipped a switch I didn’t know I had in me. I realized I was letting those motherfuckers win by tearing our family apart.”
“That’s why you came to me?”
“Yes,” she bites out viciously. “Watching Wynn self-destruct. Putting up with Momma blowing a gasket for no reason and reaching out to whack whoever was in arm’s reach, then Daddy beating the piss out of her for hitting me or Warren. I realized it didn’t matter if there were people out there lying in wait to take my babies, because we were all tainting each other. So we all left.”
Laughing at how odd it is to see things from a different perspective, “I didn’t take you guys in. Y’all came to me.”
Lips twitching at the corners, Willa tries not to laugh. “It was better if you thought it was your idea.” Parting her hands, “You’re a man. I know
s me some things.” She switches back into her hillbilly diction to make me smile. “I knows how y’all tick. Gotta make a man think it’s his idea.”
Widening my legs, I crook my finger in Willa’s direction. “C’mere,” I order, but it comes out as a soft breath.
Willa stands between my parted thighs, knees brushing the edge of the mattress. Her hands rest lightly on my shoulders, with my hands at her hips. Staring down at me with intense eyes, she whispers. “Ask.”
“Is it because we’re not married?” I ask the question she’s not waiting to hear. “If we were married, would the the gag order still apply?”
Looking vaguely insulted that I’d suggest we marry for that reason, Willa bites out, “Ask.”
Gazing up at Willa’s face, eyes tracking her emotions. “Who? If it isn’t some anonymous person you’re looking over your shoulder for, then who is it?”
Fingertips clenching at my shoulders, nails slightly biting it, I can see Willa’s wheels spinning. I fear she won’t answer me. But what terrifies me most is the fact that my ignorance for the past twelve years could have gotten Bren and me killed. I’m not ignorant any longer, but I still don’t know who to be on the lookout for.
“When Donny was dating Sean, we figured it out,” Willa admits hesitantly, eyes never straying from mine. “It was after the kids were born, and Sean was getting more aggressive.” An agony-filled laugh echoes around the room. “Understatement, that. I drugged Sean’s beer, and he sang like a canary. But Donny didn’t believe a word of it.”
“Believe what?”
“After your momma died, your daddy was lonely. He was seeing a married woman who had a couple of kids. Her husband found out, so they moved out of state.”
Eyes bugging out, “Come again?”
“As you’ve found out, that pesky law of any child born into a marriage by law belongs to the husband. The Probst family had a dark secret similar to our own, and that secret excluded them from your daddy’s settlement.”
Pushing Willa away from me, I launch across the room, terrified of harming her. “Sean was not my brother!” I rest my head against my bathroom door, feeling like I’m being flung down a long tunnel with no end in sight.
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