| |
––––––––
HUGH AND MARTHA stared at the door for a long moment as if hoping Bruno would return to break the tension. He should say something but he had no idea how to start this conversation.
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked.
“That’d be great. Thanks.” He followed her into the kitchen.
“Please, sit.” She took two cups from the cabinet and filled them with coffee.
She hadn’t asked him what he was doing here. He was a fugitive but she’d let him in without question. She knew he hadn’t done what he’d been charged with but still his presence could put her in danger. “I should go. I don’t want you to get in any trouble.” He started to stand.
She placed the cups on the table and then put her hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back down. “Do you take cream and sugar?” She added some of both to her cup.
“No. Black.”
“Just like your father.” Her eyes met his as she sat on the chair next to him.
She’d opened the door, but he wasn’t sure how to proceed.
She pointed at him and touched her cheek. “Proof of your claims?”
“Yeah.” He scratched the scruff covering his face. “Itchy proof but proof.”
“It’s hard to believe we’re all related.” She smiled but then her eyes widened as if she’d just realized the double meaning to her words.
“About that. I’m...This is difficult to say.” He stared at his hands on the warm mug, unsure how to ask if he were the product of rape - forced rape not statutory.
She sipped her coffee and there was wariness in her gaze.
“I was doing some research into...into my family history and...” He looked up at her. There were tears in her eyes. He’d been wrong to come here and dredge this up. “I should go.”
“Please. Stay.” She touched his hand—her fingers cool although they’d been holding a hot cup of coffee. “It’s good you finally know.” Her hand fluttered near his before she tucked them both onto her lap. “Sarah and I had discussed telling you but”—she smiled slightly—“it never seemed to be the right time.”
“You and my moth...Sarah were friends?”
“Yes, and you can call her your mother. For all purposes she was. Sarah loved you.”
He knew that, truly he did, but when he’d discovered she wasn’t his biological mother doubts had crept in, shadowing his memories.
“I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for you.” She smiled and wiped tears from blue eyes that were so very like his. “Even I wouldn’t have been a better mother, not at that age.”
“What happened? Did my father...”
She lowered her eyes to her cup. “Yes. I’d been at your house visiting with your sister. It was late. He gave me a ride home, but—”
“The bastard.” He fought the bile rising in his throat. He’d kill his father if the man wasn’t already dead.
“I was young and stupid. I thought I knew about boys and girls.” A self-deprecating smile flitted across her lips. “I guess I didn’t realize the difference between boys and men.”
“What he did to you...that wasn’t a man. That was a monster.”
“No. Your father was only a man. A flawed one, but aren’t we all.” She smiled sadly. “I’d been flirting with him. I thought him handsome especially when he was in uniform. That night...he’d been drinking.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“No, it’s not, but I want you to know the truth. All of it.”
He took a sip of the coffee. It was dark and bitter. “You don’t need to continue. You were young and he was a bastard.”
“That’s a simple way of looking at it.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
He looked down at his hands fisted around his cup. He was the product of violence. It was in his blood, his DNA. How could she even stand to be near him?
“I never blamed you.” She must have seen the concern in his face.
He looked up at her, blinking back tears, not realizing until that moment how much he’d wanted to hear those words.
She reached out and touched his cheek. “I loved you. I did, but I was too young and...”
“I understand.” He took her hand, interlocking their fingers.
“Your father was very sorry—”
“Don’t defend him.” There was no defense for what his father had done.
“I’m not. I’m telling you the truth. He told me to let him know if there were complications and he’d take care of it and he did. Sarah agreed to raise you as her own and your father even arranged a marriage for me when I was a few years older.”
“Why did he have to arrange a marriage?” That was just icing on the cake. His father was such a saint, marrying the child he’d violated off to Benedictine Remore a drunken, violent ass.
She blushed slightly. “I wasn’t a virgin and back then a new wife should be.” She squeezed his hand. “No matter what you’d heard about Ben he was good to me and our kids. He had his faults; we all do, but in his heart he was a good man.”
He wasn’t so sure about that. “I’m glad you were happy.”
“I was, except for you. Even though you had a good home, I missed you. You’re my son.”
He’d been so sure she’d hate him.
Footsteps sounded on the front porch and the door to the house opened.
“It’s probably Kim,” she said as she moved toward the living room.
“Does she know?” He wiped his eyes as he followed her.
“No. I wanted to tell them, but I had to speak with you first.”
They walked into the living room and they both froze. Jethro stood at the doorway with a young Guard.