Sarasota was hot and sticky mid-June. They settled in the guest house, Danny napping after a morning on the beach and a bath. Wandering through the main house, Austin followed voices to the study where Jenny held an eight-by-ten of Danny from a recent sitting.

“He’s so like you at that age,” his mother commented, as he walked into the room. She took a frame from a corner shelf, an early photo of Danny. “I’m so glad you brought this update. We’ll replace this with the new one.” Luz appeared in the doorway with a small domestic problem. His mother placed the frame back on the shelf, excused herself, left the room.

Austin lifted the frame, turned it over, removed the sliding panel. A piece of drawing paper floated to the floor landing at his feet.

Jenny stooped, picked it up, her fingers covering the inscription “This is a sketch of you, I think.” She held the sketch so he could see.

Austin saw the face of a handsome young man. “That’s not me … could be my dad.”

She moved her fingers over the inscription his mother had written: Drew 1938. He took the sketch, did the math. He was born in the summer of thirty-nine, when his dad was over forty. “This can’t be Dad.” He was sure it wasn’t Uncle Lyme.

Jenny stood at his elbow studying the sketch. “You two could be brothers.”

Standing in the doorway, an arm clutching her belly Mother gave a strangled gasp.

Facing her he asked, “Who is Dew?”

Flustered, the blood drained from her face. Her lips parted, no words came.

“Are you okay, Mother?”

“Y...Yes ... of course, dear,” she stammered.

“Drew,” Austin repeated, holding the sketch face out against his shirt. “Who is he?”

She glanced at the face. Turning away, she murmured. “I’d forgotten where ...”

“This guy, my dad and me, we could be brothers.” He turned the sketch face up. “Is he someone I should know?”

His mother stepped into the room. “My goodness, so many questions. What have you done with my grandson’s picture?” she snapped, a display of displeasure unlike her usual, even-tempered demeanor.

Startled, Jenny shot Austin a cautious glance.

“Ahhhh, Mother. This looks like one of your drawings. We were curious.”

An uneasy silence, before his mother drew a shaky breath. “Drew was ... Andrews Putnam the Third,” she began, measuring each word. “He was Audra’s younger brother.”

Austin gazed into the face so like his own. “Was?”

“He died, before you were born, “Marjorie responded, gravely, though more composed.

Dead, that’s why Austin didn’t know him. Though his mother was clearly distressed, his curiosity had been tweaked. “How did he die? An accident?”

Pain distorting her face, “A tragic accident.”

“You knew him well?”

“A wonderful young man.” She dropped her head into her hand. “So full of life. A dreadful shock for everyone who knew him,” Marjorie continued, head wagging side to side. “Dreadful.”

Austin felt awkward, standing at the edge of an open grave. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

She turned to him, managing a faint smile, her mouth twitching. “No harm done, dear. Let’s put the sketch away. ... I’ll do it.”

Jenny moved silently from the bathroom in the guest house, leaned over the cot where their son was fast asleep, a light kiss on his forehead. Applying fragrant lotion to tanned arms, she climbed into bed beside Austin, his hands behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

The incident in the study left him spooked, his mother spaced out. The sketch, out of sight, no one mentioned Drew. He wondered if Barney had known Drew. Jenny had a way of seeing through a pretense people used to cover emotions. “What do you make of that thing in the study with Mother?” he asked just above a whisper.

“The sketch?” she whispered back, looking over at Danny.

“He’s out like a light.”

She dropped her head on the pillow, closed her eyes.

“You’re avoiding my question,” he prodded.

“I wish you hadn’t asked.”

He chuckled, resting his cheek against hers. “Come on, tell all.”

She was quiet, thoughtful, before she spoke. “When someone dies young and tragically that way, there’s a deeper sense of loss, I think.” She stroked his face. “The grieving lasts a lifetime.”

He studied her expression. “That’s all this is?”

She wasn’t sure. “Could be.”

They kissed goodnight, Danny stirred. They stayed quiet until he settled. Austin adjusted his pillow. “Wonder what she has in store for me tomorrow.”

Sea, sun and sand had made her sleepy. Jenny yawned. “You’ll know soon enough.”

Austin and his mother stood in the driveway watching Barney’s Lincoln pull away. Aware of Austin’s dislike for boats, Barney had planned a cruise on inland waterways for Jenny and Danny with a friend who owned a flat-bottom boat.

“They’ll have a lovely day,” she remarked. “Barney knows all the best places to go ashore.” She stepped through the open door into the vestibule.

Austin followed, a bit leery. “I’m sure they will.”

“I’ll have Luz make a pot of coffee, if you like. I’ve had my quota.”

“Pass on the coffee. Thanks.”

She led the way to the master bedroom. “I thought we’d talk in here where we won’t be disturbed.”

They took chairs before a pair of French doors that opened on a courtyard where his mother’s prize roses grew. The doors were closed against the heat and Austin’s allergies.

He leaned back, an ankle balanced on a knee. “Nice view.”

“I often sit outside in the morning enjoying the gardens, before the sun gets too bright.” She sat ramrod straight twisting a handkerchief between her fingers.

They hadn’t made eye contact since they left the driveway. Aware of her discomfort, Austin leaned forward, focused, “Are you ill, Mother?”

She flashed him a look. “Oh, no, I’m fine. In excellent health, really.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.” He relaxed.

Marjorie cleared her throat. “I have to ask you,” she began, hesitantly,” where you stand with Lyman?”

The mention of his uncle’s name made his jaw clench, heat rose in his face. His mother had some sense of the situation. “You could say, we have each other in a box.”

“Separate boxes, I would hope.” A dry sense of humor he admired soothing tensions.

“Yeah, separate boxes.” He laughed. “Where the estate is concerned, he can’t make a move without my approval; the same with me. We communicate through lawyers.”

“I take it, he doesn’t approve of Jenny.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Does she know?”

Uneasy, Austin adjusted his weight. “Not from me. I told her, we had a falling out over the way he handles the estate.”

“You care very deeply for her. You would protect her,” Marjorie observed. “She adores you; that’s plain to see.”

“In some ways she’s fragile. In other ways she’s strong.” Austin hesitated. “She has qualities I can’t put a name to. She’s—”

“Spiritual,” Marjorie interjected.

Austin raised an eyebrow. Jenny wasn’t religious in the traditional sense. “Spiritual? I never thought of it that way.”

“Spirituality is what I see. Jenny has insight and wisdom far beyond her years.” His mother studied him. “She may know more about Lyman that you think.”

Austin wondered what was in his mother’s mind.

She continued her thought. “Prejudice and Jenny are not strangers.”

Jenny accepted her heritage, avoiding direct confrontations. Mother may have put her finger on his wife’s appeal. He’d protect her any way he could.

Marjorie gazed out across her gardens as though looking into the past. “You may not remember Barney’s late wife, Ruth,” she related. “A European Jew she was. Like Jenny, she had a spiritual quality … comes from deep roots, a strong sense of where one came from, I believe. No matter where one is, the essence remains.”

Austin chuckled. “She has so many sides; I’m not sure I’ve seen them all”

Marjorie’s eyes came back to him. “Well then, dear, we’ve gotten off the subject.”

Where was she headed? Whatever she had to say was stuck in her craw, and in her past. “Take your time, Mother. We have all morning.”

She rose from her chair, took a few steps, turned about. “Barney believes I should have told you long ago. There never seemed to be a right time.”

Austin leaned forward, anticipating.

Seated again, she continued. “It’s about Lyman and me, and your dad. Some of this you know.” She hesitated, looking back into her memories. “I must begin at the beginning.”

Austin stayed silent, so as not to disturb her thoughts.

“I was a sheltered young woman, away at boarding school until my mother and Aunt Harriet died in that awful epidemic. Uncle Forbes called me home to look after Daddy.” She took a breath, recalling. “That summer, Lloyd and I renewed an earlier acquaintance. By then, he was established in business.” A wistful smile tugged at her mouth. “To this day I see him astride Black Thunder. My knight in shining armor.”

She loved his dad ... once. For what might have been, he felt a pang of sadness.

“Our courtship was kept secret,” she continued. “Loy came often to our house. Daddy knew he was dying; he wanted us to marry.” She turned her eyes on Austin. “I left my father’s house to live in my husband’s house. That’s the way things were then.”

Austin nodded. His mother had little experience alone in the world. He’d never given that much thought.

“Lyman … ” Drawing a gasp-like breath, her expression changing, sweet to bitter, she pushed forward. “Our senior year in high school, he wanted me to notice him and he approached me. I was friendly to him because of Loy.” Uneasy with the past, she stood, pacing. “He didn’t know, of course, that Loy and I planned to marry. No one did.” Stopping suddenly, she faced him. “I tried my best to avoid Lyman. More and more insistent, he followed me.”

A man can get his signals crossed. His mother and Uncle Lyman? No way. She was too much the lady to tell a pest to buzz off. Clearly uncomfortable revealing her past, he was uncomfortable hearing. “Mother I ...”

“Please, dear. I must tell this in my own way.”

He put a hand on the arm of a chair next to him. “At least, take a seat.”

She complied, leaning back, her eyes closed. “Daddy had a stroke on the day that Lloyd and I were married. I cared for him until he died. Then I moved into the cottage Loy had built for us.” She swallowed hard, her eyes misting. “I truly loved the farm.” A far-away look, she went on. “Raised in Fayette County, I was a country girl at heart.” Marjorie dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief she twisted in her lap.

He didn’t see his mother as a country girl—more the elegant socialite she’d become.

“As time went on,” she pushed ahead, “there was no way I could avoid Lyman. He lived in the big house and worked with Locke.” Again she turned pleading eyes on him. “Audra said that Lyman was obsessed with me. He was clever ... hiding it from Loy. I couldn’t tell Loy … make trouble in the family.”

The dark side. Austin flushed, nodding agreement. His dark side could take over if he let it.

His mother drew a ragged breath. “Locke found a bride for Lyman. He left the farm to live in Lock Haven. They had their troubles, but he seemed happy with Dollie. Those years that he was gone were my best years at the farm.” A shadow fell across her face. “As you know, Lyman’s marriage ended badly.”

Austin vaguely remembered Dollie. He’d never forget Uncle Lyme—trussed up like a sack of potatoes—tossed bag and baggage from the bed of a battered old pickup. Without a word, Dollie’s bruiser brothers roared out the driveway in a cloud of dust and fumes. “I remember the day Uncle Lyme was delivered to the farm.”

“You were there,” his mother recalled. “I took you to the cottage. I don’t remember how I explained that ugly scene to you.”

He’d overheard a conversation between his dad and Grandpa Locke. Highly indignant, Locke stormed, “Leave a man his dignity.” His dad agreed that Lyman had been roughed up and humiliated far more than he deserved.

“Dollie filed for divorce. The mess was hushed up.”

“Mess?”

“The problems between them.”

“What were they?”

“It’s a delicate matter, dear.” A moment’s thought, she revealed what she knew. “It seems that Lyman was lazy and far from ... an adequate husband.”

“Ahhh, ha!” Austin couldn’t contain his amusement.

“Lyman was cowed for a time.” Anger came into her face. “Your dad believed the experience had matured him. It had not.”

“Hmm.” Recalling those years, as distressing for him as for his mother. Her revelations answered some long-standing questions; she wasn’t at the end of her story. He wondered where Drew Putnam fit into her life.

She studied him intently for a moment. “I’ll have Luz brew a pot of coffee for us.”

“Yeah, okay. I could use a break.”

Marjorie headed for the kitchen, Austin for the guest house. His dad’s words came back to him as clear as yesterday. “The Burdette seed had soured; the family in need of new blood.” Lyman was unable to father a child, Austin surmised. And Lloyd ... Austin shuddered. Suddenly, he felt cold and adrift. His wife and son adrift out there, somewhere. The past, irrational fear influencing his thoughts. He had to believe they’d be safe with Barney.

He walked into the kitchen, carried the coffee service to a table in the master bedroom. Marjorie followed. Pouring a cup, he bit into a piece of Danish. Marjorie did the same.

Some lingering qualms, he asked. “What time can we expect they’ll be back?”

“Barney planned to host lunch at a cafe he knows. I would guess, mid-afternoon.”

“That long?” Something in the tone of his voice alerted his mother.

“You’re concerned, dear.”

“Uneasy, I guess.” a flush of embarrassment came to his face. “No use looking for trouble.”

“I assure you, they’re in good hands.”

He nodded, drained his cup.” That hit the spot.”

Marjorie finished her cup, they returned to their chairs. After a moment she began again. “I suppose you wonder, why dredge up the past.”

“Some things I remember.” The time surrounding his father’s death had always been a blur. “I was a kid when all this came about.”

“Yes. I see you now with your son; it reminds me of you with Loy. He was protective, as you are. You’re so much like him.”

“I’d be proud to be half the man he was.” Austin affirmed. “I admired him, still do.”

Marjorie’s face reflected sadness and regret. “I was completely devastated when he died … in shock, heartsick.” Her eyes focused on his face. “I’m afraid I neglected you then.”

“I don’t recall … ” He did remember pain and isolation. It drove a wedge between him and his mother that hadn’t healed—completely.

Hesitant to continue pushing into the past, she did. “Some time later, I learned the terms of your dad’s will. Lyman let me know ... he was in charge.”

“I’ve wondered about that.” Austin stood paced several steps, came back beside his mother. “Why Dad would give someone like Uncle Lyme that much control.”

“He had your dad fooled. Loy tried to protect us. He trusted old Mr. Corkran to oversee the estate. Not that he ever discussed this with me.” Resentment came into her tone. “Women didn’t or shouldn’t know about financial matters, and I didn’t.” Again she sighed. “I don’t blame him completely; the farm, the business, had always been in the hands of Burdette men.”

Austin leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. “I guess I always thought you had an inheritance from your family, or the Welbornes.”

“Nothing. I came into my marriage with debts.” Marjorie revealed. Drawing a painful breath. “I believed my father owned the house on Highlands. As it turned out, Forbes Welborne held the deed. He let us live there all those years. He supported us, was good to us. He left me nothing. He owed me nothing.”

How did she manage to pay the bills? “So, you were dependent on ...”

“Lyman,” she interjected, “though my art work began selling.” Bitterness showing in her face and manner, she admitted. “I cursed Lloyd for putting me in that position.”

“I didn’t know.” He had that feeling again—adrift in a tangle of years.

“I didn’t want you to know. It was all so sordid and ugly.” Her mouth twisted, a bad taste. “Lyman thought he could step into your dad’s shoes, take Loy’s place with me and with you. I set him straight as politely as I could.”

For the first time, Austin could see his mother’s desperate situation, and why she’d taken Dad’s name away.

Marjorie collected her thoughts. “Doors were never locked in those days. I had locks installed. Lyman found a way around them. Things were missing from the cottage.”

Things? He had to know. “What sort of things?”

“Personal things,” she answered, embarrassed and indignant. “You might as well know: nightgowns, undergarments. He wanted me to know he could come and go at will. He thought he owned me.”

Rage rising from his gut, his teeth clenched, Austin shot to his feet. “Pervert!” Then he felt shame for the part he might have played. “If I’d known, Mother, I would have protected you.”

Compassionate, eyes looked into his. “You were a boy, dear.”

“I had no idea what Uncle Lyme was doing.” Pacing, he remembered his uncle taking him to the Y. They shot baskets, went for ice cream. Pleasant memories, faded as she went on.

“You’d never been exposed to that sort of thing, nor had I. We were both in shock from your dad’s sudden passing. I’m afraid I didn’t handle it well.”

Austin’s had a flashback. “The day we left the farm … what happened that day?”

She nodded, acknowledging his question. “I was ill, stayed in bed all day. I would have left if I was able.”

What she was holding back was painful, but he had to know. “Did he come to the cottage that day?” Cold dread crept up his spine.

She nodded, lowered her head. “I ... can’t tell you.”

Stung between the eyes, he saw red; his body throbbed. He took a long stride, whirled around, “My God! He raped you.”

“No dear. It didn’t come to that ... though I believe that was his intention.”

Relieved, confused, Austin demanded. “What ... What did he do?”

Marjorie closed her eyes. “I woke up. He was standing over me, naked.” Hesitating, disgust came to her face. “He tried to get in bed with me.”

“God damn him!” Austin flared.

“There was a struggle,” Marjorie explained. “I got away.” She paced, warming to her story. “He came after me ... tripped over his trousers. I was almost out the back door when Kora came in with a kettle of soup … we collided.” Her hands flew into the air. “Chicken soup everywhere.”

The scene she described struck him as bizarre, even comical. “Tripped over his trousers.” Humiliation, served him right. “Chicken soup everywhere. Ha, ha.” Austin cupped a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

“It was absurd the way it happened. I never will forget the look on Kora’s face ... pure horror.” Both hands covered her face, she swayed.

Man, she’s about to keel over. He took hold of her. “Come on, Mother. Hang in there.” He eased her back into her chair, came to his knees at her feet. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, quick jerks of her head.

“Grandma Kora set him straight.”

“She did not.” Marjorie shot back. “He told her I invited him. Led him on, played hard to get. Kora believed him.”

She would take Lyman’s side.

“I locked myself in the bathroom until they went away.”

“You went to the police.” He believed she must have.

“Not then, a woman has so little recourse in these matters. His word against mine, you know.” His mother stroked his hand. “I left. I took you with me.”

“Evermore,” Austin said, recalling the day they left.

“Yes. AJ and Audra took us in. They helped us so much; I could never repay them for all they did.” She smoothed his hair, her hand trembling. “I had to leave you. I can’t tell you how much I regret that.”

High Gate. Abandonment came flooding back. Coddling was for boys. He shifted from his mother’s knee into his chair.

A silence fell between them. Marjorie wiped away tears.

Austin’s train of thought continued. “The fire?”

Marjorie cleared her throat, paused. “The authorities believed Lyman set it.”

Arson yet! His thoughts spinning, he spouted. “Why wasn’t he arrested?”

“Your uncle has his ways of sliding out of trouble. Technically, the cottage belonged to him. He’d let insurance lapse, no claim … no investigation.” She sighed, a sad sigh, going back there in her mind, distressing. “Kora claimed he was with her when the fire started. They both said, lightning struck.”

“Convenient,” Austin commented, dryly; another flashback to the time that he and AJ unloaded belongings from the limousine. By then it had been decided that he would enter High Gate. Where his mother was to live, unknown.

“After we left the cottage, I never went back.” She leaned back in her chair. “AJ and Audra went for our things with Charlie Hamlin.”

“Charlie?” Austin questioned. “How was he involved in this?”

“As an officer of the law.” His mother came back. “You see, AJ didn’t want trouble with Lyman. He called the Chief of Police, explaining the situation, saying he needed an escort who would be discrete. The Chief sent Detective Hamlin.”

Now Austin understood why Charlie Hamlin had always viewed him with suspicion.

“As it turned out,” Lyman wasn’t at the farm that day. They passed him on the road heading for the racetrack. I’d written a note for Kora. They knew we weren’t coming back.”

Austin shifted in his chair, ran a hand down his face. “It’s a lot to absorb ... all at once.”

“I know, dear.” Caution came to her face. “I had to tell you for my own peace of mind, and for you. Your uncle is an evil man. No telling what he’ll do.”

He’d seen Lyman at his worst ... or had he?

Again, tears filled his mother’s eyes. “Lloyd wanted you to have the farm. Locke wanted you to have it. Don’t let Lyman take it from you, but do be careful.”

“Please, Mother don’t cry. You’ll have me in tears.”

She dabbed her eyes. A moment of reflection, she got to her feet and walked across the room. “I wasn’t quite accurate earlier.” At the end of her story, she seemed ready to move on. “I was left my mother’s family heirlooms ... some lovely jewels Barney has kept secure.” She handed him a small, silver box. “I hope you’ll give these to Jenny. She’s like a daughter to me.”

Austin lifted the lid. “Emeralds.”

“Yes. An excellent quality.”

“Why don’t you give them to her?”

“They should come from you, dear. A special occasion, perhaps.”

“I’ll see she gets them.” He studied the stones set in gold. Barney’s workmanship. “They ought to be insured.”

“Barney will give you an appraisal.”

He closed the box. Their eyes met. “Thank you, Mother ... for everything.”

She smiled, strain leaving her face. “Are you as famished as I am? This has been draining.”

“Lunch is on me,” Austin said, rising from his chair.

They left the room together. Austin put his arm around her shoulder, a brief, affectionate hug. “Where is your favorite place for lunch?”

His mother’s revelations transformed the way he viewed her actions after dad died. A woman caught in a trap of her husband’s making. He didn’t blame Dad. Lyman was the culprit. Stalking, attempted rape, arson; he got away with all of it. Uncle Lyme was more than crazy, maniacal; insanity in his family. He didn’t want his wife and son to know.

Concerned, Jenny asked if Marjorie was ill.

“Mother assures me she’s fine, healthy. We talked about family stuff, you know, history.”

Marjorie seemed “at peace” since she and Austin had their time together. Jenny observed. They were stargazing from a bench outside the guest house.

He wondered if he now knew all his mother’s secrets. “You and Danny had a good day with Barney and his friend.” Austin put forward.

“Beautiful birds we never see up north; fish came right up to the boat. The water is so relaxing.” A frown came to her face. “The alligators scared Daniel.”

Austin chuckled. “Smart kid.”

Barney’s friend, Jenny related, had brought his grandson, Joey, an only child. The boys got on so well, they decided they’d be brothers.

“Ahhhh,” Austin commented, shifting uneasily, a prickly subject they’d avoided. “You and I are onlies. We didn’t turn out so bad.”

“I had Robin. She was ... is like a sister, but it’s not the same as sharing the same house and parents with a sibling.”

He was raised with John; it wasn’t the same. He countered. “Not all siblings get along.”

She took a moment. “Daniel isn’t the reason I want us to have an another.”

“You know my take on that,” he shot back.

“What happened to me was so rare. It won’t happen again.”

Austin flared. “You don’t know that.”

She’d gone beyond the heartbreak. He couldn’t get beyond the fear and guilt. Each time the subject came up, it ended in an argument. “This isn’t the time or the place,” he stated, coolly.

“Keep an open mind,” she pleaded. “That’s all I ask.”

To clear his head, he took a walk around the complex. She got ready for bed. She didn’t shut him out. Their time in Sarasota ended as though a disagreement hadn’t happened.

Back in KC he saw an attorney. He wouldn’t have his family fall victim to a letch like Uncle Lyman. The farm a complication, the attorney came upon a legal resolution. And he brought Jenny into the discussions. They chose Rich and Robin Tracy as Danny’s guardians. Creepy, making plans for his demise, or Jenny’s. On the other hand, putting his affairs in order gave him a sense of after-life control.