She watched Mackenzie leave the property from the second floor sitting room window. A darkness was creeping into the edges of her mind; she tried to fight it. Clean up and wash the cups, that’s what she’d do. That would make things right, she thought. Descending the steep narrow steps leading down into the kitchen, she set the kettle on the stove to boil.
The sanctuary of her home had been violated by a visitor, and although they had decided it was necessary, it was unsettling. Cora never liked strangers around her and avoided them at all costs. This stranger was different. This one held keys to the past and the future.
Nick had spent all those early years of his life learning not to let people get too close. He’d learned that lesson harder when his father died. Then this woman shows up on her doorstep with horrible hair in a cheap dress, and for the first time Cora feared that the lesson Nick had really learned was to wait for a perfect opportunity to pay her back for sins long forgotten.
The last time she’d seen him he was standing in the kitchen, wearing a black suit, a white shirt and a red striped tie. She could remember all of it as if he were right in front of her. It was the day of Bradford’s funeral. Nick had looked so sad, her heart ached for him. He’d been quiet, sitting in the corner of the parlor all day, his head down. He didn’t eat or drink. When Cora peeked in on him, his lips were moving slightly, as if there were two people inside of him having a conversation.
Later when he snuck into the kitchen she’d followed, determined to make him say something, to open up to her. Now she moved automatically to the counters near the window where the conversation had taken place all those years ago. Her eyes closed, she could see him, black suit, so quiet, so angry, so sad. She couldn’t reach him. She had no way of knowing that that conversation would be their last.
“Just let me go. I want to be alone, “ he’d said. He turned away from her and faced the window. She reached out to stroke his hair. He shrugged her off.
“Nick, please…please…I…”
“I killed him,” he said.
The words startled Cora as if she’d been thrown into cold water. “What?” she whispered back. “Don’t talk…”
He turned suddenly. “I told Dad everything. The day he died. And do you know what he did? Do you know?” She was stunned. Silent. He gave a small laugh. “He said he loved me and that everything was going to be okay. Can you believe that? He told me he was going to make it okay. But later he didn’t look good. His skin was sort of gray. He went to his room, said he had to lie down.” Cora took a step backwards. She wanted to say something but couldn’t. “But you know what, Mother? He never got up.” He said it again very slowly. “He never got up.”
“You told him what exactly?” She found her voice.
“Everything.”
“But why? Why would you do that? And what’s everything?”
He shook his head slowly and gazed directly into her eyes. “Does it matter? He’s dead. He can’t tell anyone.”
“You can’t talk to people. You know that. No one is like us. Don’t let anyone tell you that they are, or that you can trust them. No one. Do you hear me?” Cora was angry. How could he have been so stupid? Lord knows what would have happened if Bradford hadn’t died. “Tell me that you understand.”
“He was my father.” Nick was angry. She saw the flash in his eye.
She sighed. “Okay, look, it’s over now. Promise me, “She took his face and turned it towards her, “that you will never, and I mean never, talk about this to anyone again. You see what happened? Promise me, Nick. You can never trust another soul.”
He nodded but said nothing. She reached for him but he pushed her away. She grabbed his arm and held it to her. At least he let her do that much for a moment. Then Virginia Cooper passed by the window with one of Bradford’s cousins.
“I have to talk to Ginny,” he said. He started for the door.
“We need to finish this.” She followed him and tried to hug him again.
“Get off of me, mother, Just get off.” He shook his arm free and looked at her. It was a look that she would never forget. Intense love or hate, she couldn’t be sure. There was a connection between them, an indescribable connection. He was born from her womb but never left it. “Mother, I have to go.”
He took at step towards her and kissed her. It was a quick kiss, half on her mouth and half on the skin above her lip. She watched him leave the room. She watched through the window; saw him walk out onto the lawn, watched him talk to Ginny. Those two stood together for a long time. It was an animated conversation but Cora never learned what they said to one another that day. After that he disappeared from view around the side of the house. Forever.
Cora opened her eyes and ran her hand over that spot on her face near her mouth that he had kissed so many years ago. Mackenzie had taken her place in his life, that much she knew, but did he open his soul to her? Did he tell her everything and then swear her to secrecy?
She breathed deeply, recognizing the shrill sound in the background as the whistling of the tea kettle. She pushed it from the burner; the noise slowed and then stopped, steam billowing angrily from the spout.
She filled the sink with hot water and soap. Then she slowly poured in water from the kettle, testing the temperature with her fingers until it was hot enough. She sunk both arms into the scalding water, the heat radiating up her skin, burning it but she didn’t really feel it. She was used to it. She scrubbed the cups hard, trying to get rid of the darkness in her mind that made it hard to think.
Cora felt the cup break beneath her fingers, slicing at her skin. She saw the red inkiness spread through the soapy water. She stared at the pattern, not moving her hands.
“Damn you, Nick.” The words sputtered from her lips. She smashed the cup against the side of the sink again and again, the pieces falling back into the water or imbedding themselves into the burned skin on her fingers. “Damn you to hell.”