A Thousand Lies

by Sala, Sharon

  “Can she walk?”

  “No.”

  “So, bring her into the living room where she can stretch out on the sofa, and we’ll eat in here with her.”

  He smiled. Behind the pixie face and tiny body beat the heart of a really big woman.

  “That’s a good idea, sugar,” he said, and Julie promptly began rearranging pillows.

  Linny was sitting on the bed with her head on her mother’s shoulder when Brendan walked in.

  “I made sandwiches and soup, Mama. Can you eat?”

  Delle frowned. “I hurt too much to be hungry, but if I keep taking these pain meds, I’m going to have to eat or they’ll make me sick.”

  “I’ll carry you to the bathroom. When you’re done, yell at me and I’ll carry you to the living room. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Delle managed a shaky smile.

  “Linny said you have a girlfriend. I didn’t know.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t want to scare her off by meeting the family until she was stuck enough on me not to run.”

  Delle frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault your husband is an ass,” Brendan said. “Scoot, Linny. I need to carry Mama into the bathroom. You can stay in there and help her then yell at me when you’re ready to go.”

  Linny stood up on the bed and then threw her arms around her brother’s neck before he could move.

  He felt the tension in her body and knew today had rattled her greatly.

  “You’re gonna be fine,” he said, as he hugged her tight. “Now let’s get this show on the road.”

  A few minutes later, he carried Delle into the living room to the mini-bed Julie made on the sofa. There was a blanket over the cushions, throw pillows at one end to prop her upright, and the coffee table next to the sofa with eating utensils within reach.

  “Looks like Julie has you all fixed up,” he said, then eased his mother down onto the sofa. He pulled the afghan up to her lap, leaving her feet uncovered so the weight of the cover wouldn’t hurt her.

  “I hate to be a bother,” Delle said.

  Brendan stepped back with a grin. “After all the trouble my brothers and I gave you growing up, I think you’re due a little TLC.”

  She caught a glimpse of the tiny blonde coming out of the kitchen and self-consciously smoothed a hand over her hair.

  Brendan knew she was curious and a little anxious.

  “You’re beautiful, Mother. Stop fussing,” Brendan whispered.

  Breath caught in the back of Delle’s throat. If it was a sin to favor one son over the other, then she was going to hell. Brendan had what his father was missing, a beautiful soul.

  “Mama, this is Julie March. Julie is short for Juliette, who, as you can see, is as short as the nickname.”

  Delle frowned. “Brendan Wade, you shouldn’t make fun—”

  Julie was laughing. “Everyone says that, Mrs. Poe. It’s how I was introduced to him, so he didn’t come up with that on his own.”

  Brendan grinned.

  “Julie, this is my mother, LaDelle Poe, but everyone calls her Delle… for short.”

  They laughed, which broke the ice.

  “Nice to meet you,” they said in unison, then laughed again for echoing each other.

  Linny slid in beneath her brother’s arm again.

  He looked down at her and winked.

  Linny felt good inside. Sir Brendan made all the women in court happy. A bad day was turning into a good one.

  “Soup is ready. Can you eat a little?” Julie asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” Delle said.

  “Great. Be right back. Linny, come help me,” Julie said and headed for the kitchen with Linny skipping along behind her.

  “She’s adorable, Bren, but she looks like a kid. Is she legal age?”

  He smiled. “She’s twenty-five, legal and lethal.”

  “Do you love her?”

  He sighed. “Yep.”

  “Good. Treat her right.”

  “You know I will.”

  A shadow passed over Delle’s face. “Brendan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Keep her away from Anson.”

  The skin crawled on the back of his neck. “I’m already on that. It’s why you didn’t know about her.”

  Moments later, Linny and Juliette came back, carrying the food and giggling as if they’d just shared a secret.

  Brendan watched the three females interacting, wondering at the quixotic nature of fate. He’d made a point of keeping the women he loved most apart, and now this unexpected crisis had brought them together.

  As they ate, Delle could see why Brendan was so taken with Julie. She was funny, charming, and as sweet as could be. And they worked together. A match made in heaven.

  “So, how long have you been bartending at The Black Garter?” Delle asked.

  Julie put her plate aside, anxious to get to know his mother better.

  “Since I turned twenty-one, and in spite of my mother’s displeasure, I’ve been in and out the back door of that place all my life.”

  “Her daddy owns it. She’s Grayson March’s one and only,” Brendan said.

  Everyone in and around New Orleans knew of Grayson March and the March family. They were old money and could trace their roots back a good two hundred years in New Orleans. Delle was impressed her son was dating someone like her.

  She listened intently as Julie talked and every so often caught a glimpse of the changing expressions on her youngest son’s face. He was definitely in love. At last, one of her boys was showing signs of settling down.

  “I’ll bet your daddy had a small fit when you moved out of the house,” Delle said.

  Julie rolled her eyes. “No, ma’am. Daddy didn’t like it, but it was Mama who pitched the fit.”

  “Please, call me Delle.”

  “Thank you,” Julie said and suddenly noticed Brendan’s little sister was looking a bit forlorn. On a whim, she dropped a piece of cracker into Linny’s soup bowl.

  Linny looked up.

  Julie dropped another one.

  “What was that for?” Linny asked.

  “You looked like you wanted to bite on something and I was afraid it would be me. I gave you some of my crackers, instead.”

  Linny giggled, then scooped up the crackers in her spoon and popped them into her mouth, making a big deal out of the crunching sound.

  Brendan sat quietly, watching the interaction between the women, and knew his instinct about Julie had been spot on. She fit into the family. If Anson didn’t exist, life would be pretty close to perfect.

  After they’d finished eating, Julie took Linny into the kitchen to help clean up, leaving Brendan alone with his mother.

  “If we stay here, we’re going to need some things from home,” Delle said.

  “I know. I’ll take Belinda with me to help get what you need.”

  Delle frowned. “I don’t want her to go back there without me. I’m afraid your daddy will take his anger out on her.”

  Brendan leaned forward. “Mama. Look at me.”

  Delle lifted her gaze.

  “I’m bigger than Dad. I’m stronger than Dad. And I will take a gun. Does that ease your concerns?”

  She leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes, staying silent for several long moments. When she finally looked up, there were tears in her eyes.

  “I am so sorry.”

  Brendan frowned. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’ll get some paper. Make a list of what you want us to get. Sam and Chance will most likely still be there. They wouldn’t let Anson pull any shit, okay?”

  “Yes. Okay.”

  “Get my phone while you’re there,” she added. “It’s just inside the cabinet door next to the sink.”

  Brendan laughed. “That’s a weird place to keep a phone, Mama.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t have a pocket in this dress and I like to keep it close by while I work.”

  Brendan
thought that was odd and looked up, but when she wouldn’t meet his gaze, it took him a few moments to realize she was afraid of her own husband. He didn’t know what to think. His parents had always fought, but he’d never thought of his mother being afraid.

  “Do you have a gun in the house, too?” he asked.

  “No. Your daddy keeps all the guns.”

  He frowned. “I’ll go get that paper and pen.”

  Delle said a quick prayer. Her precariously balanced world was finally coming undone.

  ****

  Julie offered to stay at the apartment until they got back. Linny was as scared of going back as her mother was for her to leave. She sat in the front seat as they drove away, her knees pulled up beneath her chin, trying to make herself as small as possible.

  Brendan knew it was a defense mechanism for staying out of trouble. The smaller you are, the less likely it is that anyone will see you. He wondered how often she did that at home.

  She hadn’t said two words since they left New Orleans and was staring out the window at the passing scenery while picking at her cuticles in quiet agitation. She finally broke the silence, Brendan got why she’d been so quiet.

  “Will Daddy still be mad?”

  “Honey, Anson is always mad about something, remember?”

  Linny sighed. “You’re right. He is, isn’t he?” She got quiet all over again, and then she cast a sideways glance at her brother. “If I tell you something, you won’t tell Daddy, will you?”

  “I haven’t told him anything but ‘Go to hell’ in so long that we have nothing to talk about. Of course I won’t tell.”

  She unfolded her legs and put her feet down in the floorboard as if bracing herself to confess.

  “I have a secret place in the swamp where I play. When I’m there, I am Queen Belinda and my subjects are the critters who live there. I call you Sir Brendan. Mama is Lady Delle, and Daddy is the Evil Overlord.”

  Brendan grinned. “You got that last part right.”

  She giggled again. “Don’t tell. He would be really mad.”

  “I cross my heart and hope to die,” Brendan said solemnly and made the sign of a cross over his heart.

  She nodded, satisfied with the pledge.

  “What do you call Sam and Chance?” he asked.

  “Big Samuel, the blacksmith, makes the armor you wear, and Chance is the court jester.”

  He was a little surprised at how she had segregated the members of her own family into these odd caricatures of themselves and how spot-on she was with her perceptions. He watched the changing expressions on her face with a mixture of curiosity and regret. They’d all been born into a tough family, but somehow it seemed worse for a girl.

  “Are you lonesome, Linny?”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You never get to play with other little girls. You don’t have sleepovers or best friends, or anything like that, do you?”

  She shrugged. “Mama says it wouldn’t be safe.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sometimes I’m sorry, too,” she said, then sank back into the seat. She pulled her knees up beneath her chin again, an unintentional “tell” of the urge to hide.

  Brendan frowned. “Life will get better for you. I’ll make sure of that.”

  She reached across the seat and patted his arm. “I sure do love you, Bren.”

  “I love you, too, baby girl,” Brendan said and swallowed past the lump in his throat.

  A few minutes later, he turned off the road into the driveway, bracing himself for the confrontation that was bound to come. When they parked at the house, he got his handgun out of the console and loaded it.

  Linny’s eyes widened. “What’s that for?”

  “Just in case. Let’s go,” he said and tucked it into the waistband at the back of his jeans.

  Their exit from an air-conditioned vehicle into the Louisiana heat was palpable. Brendan paused, eyeing the house in which he’d grown up and the land around it.

  Except for that massive grove of bamboo, it was typical Louisiana low country, a density of growth thick enough to hide anything living or dead, and water in abundance almost anywhere within walking distance. Even the ground on which he was standing held water as close to the surface as a mother holds her babe to her bosom. It was an old place, full of centuries of secrets and betrayals—deaths and lies.

  He couldn’t help but wonder how many thousands of lies had been told under the roof of that house. Some of no consequence, surely—while others were vile enough to change the course of a man’s life. One thing was for certain, the man of this house was nothing but a liar, capable of a thousand lies all on his own.

  “Is everything okay, Bren?”

  He shook off the weight of the centuries and reached for her hand. “Everything is fine, sugar. Let’s get this over with and get back to your mama.”

  ****

  The clear sky that had come with daybreak was swiftly disappearing behind the building storm clouds as Sam and Chance continued loading the bales of pot into Wes Riordan’s motor home. From the outside, the motor home looked like a retiree’s dream straight off of a KOA campground. Riordan had even gone so far as to have a bike rack mounted on the back with dual bicycles chained in place. The driver, a man named Marty, looked like someone’s grandfather in a floral Hawaiian shirt, cotton shorts, and a little golf hat covering his bald head.

  But the motor home was no retiree dream. It was gutted down to the floor and walls, and the windows were darkly tinted. He added packing straps and rubberized treading to keep pallets of marijuana from sliding; leaving just enough room for Wes and Thorpe, his hired gun, to ride guard inside.

  Riordan was a tall man with a non-descript face. While he could do nothing about his height, he dressed down to stay under the radar of normal curiosity. Not a lot of people even knew he existed, which was intentional.

  Anson Poe was one of the few he did business with personally. So far, their association worked. Poe grew good stuff in large quantity, but today was the first time Wes had come to pick up a load in daylight, and Riordan was more than a little antsy. He stepped outside to check the weather, then glanced down at his watch. It was nearly 2:30. He needed to be out of here before the storm front blew in, or he’d miss his connection farther down the line.

  “Hurry the hell up, you two!” Wes snapped, aiming his complaints at Sam and Chance.

  Anson frowned at his sons. He needed to keep his best customer happy and added his voice to the urgency.

  “Get a move on, damn it! The sky’s about to unload and he should’ve been gone ten minutes ago.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” Sam said, as he and Chance kept carrying bale after bale of marijuana up from the room beneath the shed.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  “Damn it! Someone’s coming and it better not be the cops,” Wes muttered, as the rumble of an engine was suddenly heard over the dissipating thunder.

  Anson glanced out and recognized the car.

  “I pay plenty to make sure I am not bothered by the parish police. Besides, that’s my youngest son’s car. He and my girl took my old lady to the doctor this morning. She spilled hot coffee on her bare feet. They’re probably just bringing her home.”

  “I didn’t know you had another son,” Wes said.

  “Well, I do. We don’t like each other much, but he’s mine.”

  “What about all this?” Wes asked, gesturing toward the bales of pot.

  “What about it? He knows what I grow.”

  “Well, alright then,” Wes said. Wes watched them pull up to the house, then glanced over his shoulder. Only a couple more minutes and he’d be out of here. He looked back, eyeing the tall, dark-haired man and the young girl who got out, then gave the girl a second look. Watching her walk was like watching silk blowing in a breeze—all smooth and fluid, without a jerk to her step.

  “That is one fine-looking girl you’ve got there,” he said softly.


  Anson looked up toward the house, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

  “Yeah, she takes after me.”

  Wes’s eyes narrowed as he watched her disappear inside.

  “Damn shame she’s your kin. She’d bring a good hundred thousand on the open market.”

  Anson didn’t know whether to be pissed the man had pretty much offered to buy his daughter or stunned at the money she was worth.

  “She’s only nine.”

  “The ones I know like ‘em young.”

  Anson turned around and pointed a finger under Wes’s nose. “We’re done talking about this now.”

  Wes backed off and held up his hands. “No offense meant. Just talking about stuff I know, that’s all.”

  “We’re done here, Daddy,” Sam said.

  “About time,” Wes muttered, eyeing the sweat-stained shirt and the size of Samuel Poe’s chest. He was one big son of a bitch. “Say, boy, if you ever want to move up in the world, there’s a place for you in my crew.”

  Sam looked up. “Are you talking to me?”

  Wes nodded.

  Still pissed by what he’d overheard Riordan say about Linny, Sam answered shortly. “Not interested,” he said and walked out of the packing shed with Chance right behind him.

  Anson was more concerned that Wes had offered Sam a job than he had been by his half-hearted comment about buying Belinda.

  “Damn it, Riordan. First, you eyeball my girl, and now you try to steal my son out from under me. It’s time for you to get the hell on down the road.”

  Wes grinned as he handed over the money. “Nice doing business with you, Poe. We’ll be in touch.”

  The trio climbed inside the motor home and drove away as Anson settled his hat down on his head, grabbed the grocery sack full of hundred dollar bills, and headed toward the house.

  ****

  Brendan pulled an old duffle bag from the closet and, with Linny’s help, began gathering up the clothes on Delle’s list.

  “Where does Mama keep her underwear?”

  “In there,” she said, pointing to a dresser near the closet.

  “Count out eight of each and put them in the bag, okay?”