Red Clover

by Florence Osmund

  Her words pulled at something inside his head. He closed his eyes, and an incident when he was very young flashed through his mind. He was hiding behind his mother’s favorite front parlor chair. His father was in the room doing a lot of yelling. He knew his mother was there, but he didn’t recollect her saying anything. He remembered his nanny grabbing him and taking him away.

  “Lee?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, Mother. I’m okay.” He took a moment to compose himself. “So then everyone knew.”

  “Yes, but in spite of the incident, I believed we could go back to being the way we were, and...”

  “And continue with the lies instead of—”

  “Yes. Continue with the lies.”

  Feeling nauseous, Lee excused himself to use the bathroom. He leaned over the sink for a minute, and when nothing came up, he sat on the toilet lid, leaned back against the tank, and stared at the Cézanne nude his parents had purchased the last time they’d been vacationing in Europe. He didn’t like the painting—too many dull drab colors for his taste. He figured Cézanne had painted it early in his career during his so-called “dark” period. Lee closed his eyes, longing to be out of his “dark” period. He stopped tapping his fingers on the side of the toilet as soon as he realized he was doing it. He wanted so to break that habit.

  Lee thought back to how his tapping ritual had changed over the years—always a __ that couldn’t be seen by others. His first recollection was when he was eight or nine. At that time, he tapped the index finger of his left hand on his left thumb. He later changed to his right hand. As a teen, he tapped a toe on the inside of his shoe.

  He closed his eyes again and went through a series of mind-clearing and deep-breathing exercises he had learned from one of his doctors, until he felt like he was floating. Then he thought about how he wanted to feel and repeated that word over and over again until he felt relaxed. The word was “strong.”

  Feeling more in control, Lee returned to the sunroom, anxious for more of his questions to get answered.

  “When did everyone start calling Nelson Sambourg Uncle Nelson? How did that come about?”

  “Nelson wanted to be in the picture from the onset, and what better way to do that than as a long-lost family member.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. He felt responsible for you and worried that Henry, well, he…”

  “Might not treat me like his other sons?”

  “No, not that. Well, maybe it was that.”

  “And he went along with it? Inventing an uncle?”

  “If you’re referring to Henry, I didn’t give him much of a choice.”

  “But Uncle Nelson rarely came over and never on holidays or birthdays or anything.”

  “He did when you were small. You probably don’t remember it. But when Henry flew into that rage, well, Nelson’s visits had to stop.”

  “You haven’t really told me much about him.” After the words escaped his lips, Lee realized he wasn’t actually sure he was ready to hear what the man was like. But he pressed on. “What did he do for a living? What were his outside interests?”

  “Nelson had many interests—his father’s printing company and various real estate holdings. He had a significant amount of money tied up in the stock market that he managed himself. He was well-liked and respected and had a huge network of friends and acquaintances. He was involved in many things, but—”

  “Is the printing company around here?'

  “It’s in Indiana. He inherited it when his father died. That’s all I know.”

  “You don’t know the name of it?”

  “It may have been...Arietta. Or something like that. The name had a musical connotation, I remember. His father loved the symphony. So did he.”

  “So you and he were involved in some of the same charities?”

  “Several. He was a very generous man. His father had left him a huge estate, and his philosophy was what he didn’t earn himself, he should share.”

  “That’s an interesting philosophy. What about his personal interests? What did he like to do for fun or relaxation?”

  “I really don’t know. When it came to his personal life, his life at home, he didn’t share it with me, and quite frankly, I didn’t want to know. The small world we had together was all I needed.” She hung her head for a moment, and when she raised it back up, her expression was apologetic. “I’m not proud of any of this. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, Mother. I understand. Is there anything more?”

  “I think I’ve told you everything.”

  “I have questions.”

  “Tomorrow then?”

  “Yes, of course. When will he be home?”

  “His plane gets in at six-thirty.”

  “I’ll be gone well before then.”

  “Lee?”

  “Yes.”

  “You remind me of him.”

  “In what way?”

  “In many ways.” She paused. “You have his eyes. Sometimes I have a hard time looking at you.” Her voice cracked. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

  After he finished his sherry, Lee climbed the stairs to the second floor, but for some reason, he couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping in his old bed. Instead, he fell asleep fully clothed in the overstuffed chair in the corner of his room, his state of mind before drifting off to sleep a sense of relief. No more lies.

  The next morning they ate breakfast in the sunroom, something he hadn’t remembered ever doing during all the years he had lived there. Apparently his mother had caught on to his apprehension for that room.

  “So tell me what your thoughts are, Lee.”

  He stared at her, unsure what to say.

  “I’ve unloaded so much on you. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I don’t think you’re a terrible person, if that’s what you’re fearing,” he finally said.

  She fixed her gaze on something outside the window. “Perhaps I did fear that.”

  “He didn’t give you something you needed, something we all need, and you went elsewhere for it. Quite frankly, Mother, I don’t blame you.”

  “Please tell me you won’t leave me.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I know you just said you didn’t blame me for what I did, but let’s face it...”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Mother.

  “He’s not a bad person, Lee.”

  “Who?”

  “Henry.”

  “He’s treated me poorly my whole life, so unfortunately that’s all I have for perspective.”

  “And he’s not as strong a man as you and others may think.”

  “You’re not going to tell me about how bad he had it as a child, are you? Because compared to how I—”

  “He didn’t have it very good.”

  “Then it’s surprising he didn’t go out of his way to make sure I didn’t suffer the way he did.”

  “That’s not fair, Lee. You don’t know him.”

  “You can’t lecture me on what’s fair.” He struggled to maintain his composure. “The man never even took the time to get to know me. Or did his so-called terrible childhood prevent him from doing that too.”

  She paused a long moment before speaking. “Lee, Henry grew up with his father’s brother living in their house. Turner suffered from severe schizophrenia, and after it was evident he couldn’t make it on his own and Henry’s parents couldn’t find the right place for him, they took him in. His behavior was bizarre. They hid him in their attic.”

  He had never heard this before. “Because they were afraid or embarrassed of him?”

  “Both, I suspect. From an early age, Henry was forced to bring him meals and empty his bedpan.”

  Granted, that was bad.

  “And that wasn’t the worst of it. Turner repeatedly told Henry there were government spies everywhere watching them, and when the time was right, they were goin
g to break into their home and do terrible things to them. He told him they had already taken out all his organs and replaced them with ones that contained maggots or something, and the next time they found him, they were going to replace his brain. Henry was young and believed him. He grew up scared, so scared he was afraid to leave the house, make friends, or even play in the backyard.”

  “Why didn’t he tell his parents what was going on?”

  “Because Turner warned Henry if he ever told anyone, he’d be next.”

  “How long did it go on like that?”

  “His uncle committed suicide when Henry was a teenager, and Henry was the one who found him. Afterwards, he told his father all the crazy things Turner had said to him. But his father accused him of making it up, told him he was just making excuses for why he had no friends and did poorly in school. His father would call him names and say things to him that made him feel worthless, like a failure. I think that’s what drove him to become the success he is today.”

  “To prove his father wrong?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell us this before? All you told us was his father bullied him.”

  “Until now, I didn’t think you had to know the whole truth.”

  “And now?”

  “I think it’s important you understand him better, his past behavior toward you.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “I think at some level you reminded him of the scared little boy he used to be, a little boy faced with big fears he had to keep a secret, fears he vowed as an adult to never have to face again.”

  “In which case he knew what I was going through and should have helped me.”

  “Be grateful he didn’t try to help you. You see, Lee, he never did face those fears.” She looked away from him and slowly rose to her feet. “And he’s paying dearly for it now.”

  * * *

  While his mother took a break from their discussion by lying down for a while, Lee carefully weighed her disturbing recount of his father’s childhood. He tried to make sense of it, but he couldn’t get past how anyone could take out his anger, or whatever it was he was feeling, on an innocent child, one suffering from similar inhibitions.

  “He grew up scared,” his mother had said.

  Well, so did I. And you, Henry, were the major cause of that fear.

  Lee didn’t know whether to feel more sorry for Henry or for himself. Or was his mother the one who deserved the most sympathy? After all, she’d had to endure both of them for all these years.

  He slid open one of the sliding glass doors to the patio, letting in a blast of cold November air, filling his lungs with its iciness before shutting the door. He turned around to find his mother had returned from her nap.

  “Would now be a good time for me to ask questions...about things we haven’t covered?” he asked her.

  She feigned a smile. “Of course.”

  “Explain the birthday gifts Uncle Nelson gave us. If I have the timeline right, he wasn’t even in the picture when Nelson was born.”

  “He wanted to give you something right after you were born, but he couldn’t do that for you and not the others, so he gave Nelson and Bennett something at the same time, and we just let on they had received theirs when they were born. He gave you the coin collection his own father had given him when he was born, one he had added to all his life.”

  “What other lies are there?”

  She looked past Lee. “I suppose there have been hundreds of lies over the years. Hundreds...” Her voice trailed off.

  “Did he travel much?”

  “Extensively.”

  Lee’s mind kept wandering back to his father’s printing company.

  “How was he able to travel when he had a printing company to run?”

  “He had a hand in running the company, but he had people to take care of the day-to-day things. I think the only reason he hung on to it was because it was his father’s passion, not his.”

  “So what was his passion?”

  She hesitated before answering. “That’s an interesting question. I had never thought about that before now. I think it might have been the association he founded, I believe that’s what it’s called, whose members are people who do research out of various universities.”

  “Not the Association for Institutional Research?”

  “Yes, I think that’s it.”

  “I’ve heard of them. In fact, I think Dr. Rad may have received a grant from— Wait a minute. Is there a connection here?”

  Abigale nodded.

  “Uncle Nelson had something to do with my working under Dr. Rad?”

  “All he did was make sure you were aware of his work through one of your college professors. He left the rest up to you.”

  “So he was aware of what I was doing?”

  “He was aware of everything about you...your whole life.”

  “But we had no contact.”

  “I told him everything.”

  “How? How often did you see him?”

  “I didn’t see him often, maybe a few times a year. When we got together, it was usually in New York. He owned an apartment building near Central Park where we spent most of our time in one of the units that he kept for himself.”

  “So the affair continued. Until when, Mother?”

  “Until he died.”

  That surprised him. Up until now, he had envisioned his mother’s affair as past history. He thought back to her frequent trips to New York. It all made sense now.

  “Was he with you in New York when you were expecting me?”

  “Not too often. I didn’t want him coming to our apartment, and I didn’t go out much, as I was trying to hide the pregnancy.”

  “Please go on.”

  “We weren't physically together often…but he was always in my heart. We wrote each other letters. And for me, the essence of our relationship came from those letters more than anything else.” She smiled faintly. “The ones he wrote were so personal, so passionate. I didn’t feel so alone when I knew he was thinking about me like that.”

  “Did you keep them?”

  “No. We each had a post office box to receive the letters, and after reading each one, as much as it pained me, I would destroy it. He did the same.”

  “What about after he died? How did that change things? Between you and...”

  “Henry?”

  Lee nodded.

  “It didn’t. We never talked about it.”

  “You never talked about it? How could you not talk about it?”

  “By that time, maybe everything that could have been said had been said.”

  “Speaking of Uncle... I mean Nelson’s death, you made a big deal out of going to his funeral, but when we got there, you wouldn’t go in. Why was that?”

  “I had to go. We all had to go. And I thought we could just blend in with the crowd of people I knew would be there. But as soon as we drove up to the church and I saw his wife, Margaret, greeting people at the door, I couldn’t bring myself to go in. I couldn’t face her.”

  “Did you two know each other?”

  “We had met a few times over the years at various charity events.”

  “Did she know about you and her husband?”

  “Nelson didn’t think so, but I wasn’t so sure. I often thought that was why she decided to greet people outside of the church at his funeral—to keep me from coming in.” She paused for a moment. “And I wouldn’t have blamed her.”

  “Do I have any half-brothers or half-sisters?”

  “Margaret couldn’t have children.”

  “Aunts or uncles?”

  “He never mentioned any other relatives.”

  “Here’s another thing I don’t understand. Why did he go along with all this?”

  “Why did who go along with all of what?”

  “Damn it! I don’t know what to call him anymore. Henry. Anyway, you talked about his reputation, but I don’t understan
d why anyone would think any less of him if he left you, knowing you cheated on him and had someone else’s child. How would that have affected his reputation?”

  “Henry relies on me for...well, for a number of things. He may not admit it, but he does. And I don’t think many other women would put up with his...with his shortcomings, shall we say. And I rely on him too. Maybe we were made for each other in some respects.”

  “I realize relationships are never perfect, but when you think about yours, well, I’m still surprised you stayed together.”

  “It’s amazing what you hold on to when you feel alone.”

  Isn’t that the truth.

  “What now? At what point do we drop this whole charade and start telling the truth, Mother?”

  She didn’t speak for several seconds. “I’m going to tell Henry about our talk when he gets home. It’s time.”

  26 | Bulldog

  Lee woke up the next morning just before dawn and lay in his bed for hours, mulling over the conversations he’d had with his mother over the past two days, still in awe of the enormity of the situation. There was so much to absorb.

  He felt surprisingly placid for someone who had just received such a massive dose of important facts about his family—facts most people would have learned gradually over a long period of time. But instead of feeling overwhelmed by all of it, he felt relieved.

  Lee felt relieved the minute he told his mother he knew Nelson was his father—like a heavy burden had been lifted off him. The more they talked, the less resentment he felt toward her, and the more he wanted to get to know her and develop a new relationship with her.

  He closed his eyes and began to understand how the stress of keeping a secret can far outweigh the consequences of revealing it, and that a clear sense of reality is worth its weight in gold. It was a momentous realization—one he knew would stay with him the rest of his life.

  Finally hauling himself out of bed, he took an extra long hot shower and shifted his thoughts to DeRam and the threat he posed for CJ and her sons. Convinced he could make use of his certainty that the sheriff had been cultivating marijuana on his property, Lee phoned Bennett to get his take on it. But before he initiated that conversation with his brother, he told him about his mother…their mother.