Distant Blood (8 page)

“If Jordan's destined to look like you when he's older, then I'll have made the smart choice.” Candace offered her best belle smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Philip Bedrich make a mock-gagging motion.

Uncle Mutt guffawed, squeezed her hand, and punched me lightly in the shoulder. “You got you a live wire there, boy! All right, I stand apologetic and corrected, Miss Can-dace.” He took me by one arm, Candace with the other, and introduced me to the rest of my new family.

“And this is my nephew Philip Bedrich,” Uncle Mutt indicated the loosely lounging fellow on the couch. “Don't give him money.”

Philip Bedrich colored at the gibe, but gave me a weak smile. “Uncle Mutt's a bully, but he's our bully. You'll soon grow used to his little tirades.” He didn't have the physi-cality evident in his twin, Tom—he wasn't heavy, but his body was rounder, softer, and his indolent pose on the couch appeared practiced. His clothes looked expensive, but not in the best taste—a showy gold necklace adorned his throat, and his shirt was designed for a younger man. A slow, languorous drawl oozed from his mouth when he spoke. I shook Philip's hand; his palm felt flaccid against my skin.

“I met your brother already.” I turned to indicate Tom, but he'd left the library.

“Aren't you lucky?” Philip laughed dryly. “Tom rarely opts to socialize with the rest of us. We're not smart enough for Mr. Scientist.”

“Scientist?” I asked.

“Tom's an oceanographer. Spends days talking with fish.” Philip sipped at his drink.

“Don't act so envious.” Uncle Mutt jabbed Philip in the shoulder and turned back to me. “Philip's my special project right now in the training camp of life. He's hit the bankruptcy court so often—”

“For God's sake, Uncle Mutt! That's private business.” Philip's face colored with anger and I felt embarrassed for him. I resolved not to share any secrets with Uncle Mutt. He apparently served as the family megaphone.

“Ain't no private business involving
my
money in
my
house,” Uncle Mutt declared. “We're all going to put our heads together to get you out of your mess, Philip.”

I happened to glance over at the centenarian in the plush leather chair; a wry smile accentuated his many wrinkles as he watched the exchange. His spotted, palsied hands wrapped around the head of his cane and his eyes glittered with intelligence.

“Thank you, I don't need anyone's help.” Philip glared at Uncle Mutt.

“That, Philip, definitely remains to be seen.” Uncle Mutt steered me away from the fuming Philip and toward the gentleman by the fireplace. Aunt Lolly scurried to him and plopped Sweetie on top of the light cotton blanket that covered his legs.

“Get that goddamned rat-dog off me, Lolly!” the old man bellowed. His voice reminded me of nails raking down a chalkboard. Aunt Lolly ignored his request. She stroked the old man's head absentmindedly and he flinched away in annoyance. She leaned down and hollered in his ear, “Uncle Jake! This here's Bob Don's boy and his girlfriend!”

“Goddamn it, Lolly!” Uncle Jake bellowed back, pressing fingers defensively against the cup of his ear. “I ain't
that
deaf. I can see clearly who Jordan and Candace are.” He offered me an arthritic hand. “How you, son? My sister Mildred was your great-grandmother.” He jabbed a finger toward Mutt and Lolly. “They ain't her kids, though. Praise God.”

Lolly slapped Jake's shoulder playfully—but a little too hard for my liking. She scooped up the offended Sweetie in her arms. “Uncle Jake likes to remind Mutt and me we ain't his blood kin. But we do all the takin' care of him that he needs. He forgets how kind we are sometimes.” A vinegar tone lay underneath her honeyed voice.

“Hmmph,” Uncle Jake said, but he huddled down in his chair. Aunt Lolly crossed her arms, imprisoning Sweetie, and smiled beatifically at him. I took a step back—a sudden dislike of Lolly Throckmorton surged through me. Her bullying tone toward the old man riled me. Her sugary but
hard-edged voice reminded me of a candied apple—with a razor hidden in it.

“Well, well, well,” a voice sounded behind us. I turned and saw a tall, buxom woman in her early fifties standing in the library entrance. She was resplendently attired in a brightly flowered blouse with white jeans. Her hair was dyed a dark auburn; her bright blue eyes were ringed with mascara. Under the makeup her face resembled a softened version of Bob Don's. She came forward and pecked Bob Don on the cheek.

“Hello, brother.” She favored Gretchen with a smile bordering on distasteful. “Gretchen, darling. Don't you look lively today?” Her smile rested on me. “This must be my new nephew.” She extended a hand. “How do you do, Jordan? I'm your aunt Cecilia Goertz.”

I shook her hand and introduced Candace while Gretchen trilled, “Sass, honey, I've been telling Jordy all about you and he's just so excited to meet you.”

“Yeah, I can see he's all atwitter over making my acquaintance.” She gave Candace a dismissive glance—one woman boldly appraising another—and turned her attention back to me.

“So you going by Goertz again, Sass?” Philip Bedrich called from his couch. He sipped at his iced tea and sucked on the lemon, letting the rind drop back into the glass. “After all, you do have a plethora of surnames to choose from.”

“You'll probably need to borrow a good name when you go bankrupt again, Philip. I'll loan you one with a good credit rating.” Sass, like the others, gave my face and my body an unwavering assessment. “You got all my brother's best features, honey. Did you get any of his brains?”

Bob Don laughed. “Hell, he got your nerve, Sass. Just keep prodding him; he can take care of himself.”

I wasn't anxious to get into a battle of repartee with Cecilia Goertz; she obviously had a nimble wit. Her eyes stayed locked on me as I fidgeted on my feet. One polished nail rested against her chin, tapping, and I imagined it running along an envelope's seal, securing a message of hate inside.

“Where's Aubrey, Sass? I want him to meet Jordan and Candace,” Uncle Mutt said.

“I don't know. Gettin' in touch with his inner child or some such garbage.” Sass sauntered to where Deborah Goertz stood by the drink cart and poured the last of the margaritas into a glass. She sipped and hummed appreciatively. She glanced over at Gretchen. “Where's your pick-me-up, darling? Thought you'd be parched after your long trip.”

Gretchen beamed with pride. “I'm sober now, Sass. I haven't had a drink in nearly a year.”

Sass ran a tongue along her lips. I watched her watch Gretchen. Apparently no congratulatory message was forthcoming from her sister-in-law.

“We're all very proud of Gretchen,” I ventured. Gretchen started in surprise but said nothing.

“I'm sure you must be.” Sass went over and kissed Gretchen lightly on the cheek. “I hope it won't bother you if the rest of us drink. I'm stone dry, darling.”

“Of course not,” Gretchen assured her, but I saw her gaze light on the glimmering bottles on the drink cart for the briefest of moments.

Sass smiled thinly, then wiped her fingers along Gretchen's cheek where she had kissed her. “Sorry. I shouldn't sip at that delicious margarita, then kiss you. I wouldn't want a trace of alcohol touching you, darling.”

Gretchen didn't flinch. She turned away after a moment and asked Bob Don for a Dr Pepper. He hurried to pour her soda. Uncle Mutt broke the embarrassed silence.

“All right, everyone get your drinks and let's unwind before dinner. I got an announcement to make.” Uncle Mutt's glare went to every face in the room.

“Announcement?” Aunt Lolly murmured to Sweetie. “How exciting.”

She didn't know the half of it.

“Where are the kids?” I asked Aunt Lolly after fifteen minutes of idle conversation with my new family. Silence
crashed down like a curtain falling unexpectedly on actors in mid-scene.

Aunt Lolly paled and a hand fluttered near her throat, smoothing out her skin. “Kids? What kids?”

“Well, at every family reunion I've been at, there's always lots of kids underfoot….” I became aware of the uncomfortable quiet holding sway in the room. Uncle Jake coughed. The fleeting sense of acceptance and comfort I'd started to feel from the Goertzes wisped away like smoke.

“Did I say something wrong?” I finally managed.

Aunt Lolly offered a fatuous smile. “Oh, no, honey, not at all. You see, Deborah's not been able to keep a man, and the twins are both divorced. And Aubrey, well—” She didn't elaborate. “Tom has a couple of kids”—she fixed a baleful eye on him—”but he doesn't have much contact with them, do you, Tommy? Not a good idea, is it?” She took a long, slow sip of her red wine.

Tom Bedrich didn't appear rattled by his aunt's jeer. “No, Aunt Lolly, I don't. I'm not sure how that's any of your concern, though.”

Abashment colored my face. “Listen, Tom, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have raised the subject.”

“Would you bring young'uns around
this
crowd?” Uncle Jake asked, drawing his blanket tighter around his legs. “I sure as hell wouldn't. Foulmouthed and ornery they are— and I don't mean kids.”

“Anyone got a mirror for old Jake?” Philip murmured from the safety of his chair.

“Well, maybe you and Candace will marry and have kids,” Aunt Lolly offered. She blew a puckered kiss at Can-dace, who stood talking with Deborah. “And then you can bring them to the island for a visit. Wouldn't that be grand?”

Deborah excused herself, and I saw a hot light of anger pulse in her dark eyes. Aunt Lolly rocked back on her heels, as though she'd scored a point in a child's game.

The gathering had thinned: Sass had departed in search of her son, Bob Don and Mutt had excused themselves for several minutes, and Gretchen had gone for a predinner stroll. I
pardoned myself from the crowd and headed up to my room.

Candace might have planned to play bodyguard all weekend, but I believed in the direct approach. I'd fetch the profane epistles I'd received and produce them at the dinner table. Make a stand, and make it early. Whoever my correspondent was, let him or her know immediately that I wasn't going to be cowed. If the rest of the family was as shocked as I hoped they'd be, I'd smoke out the culprit early. And get on to the business of fitting in.

Fitting in ?
I stopped with my hands on the stair, halfway toward the third landing. Did I really want to do that with this clan? I liked Deborah and Mutt and felt ambivalent about the rest. But for Bob Don, I would have to make the effort. I didn't delve into analyzing what my attitude meant toward my relationship with him.

I began climbing the stairs again, but paused as I heard voices whispering below in urgency: “Don't walk away from me! I'm telling you, you better do something now. Now!”

Aunt Sass.

“Don't be silly. He's not a threat.” A voice I didn't know, male, younger, calm, with a slow rasp of a drawl not unlike my own.

“If you blow this—”

I stayed still, not daring to move, chastising myself for eavesdropping.

“You're overreacting, as usual. You've got way, way too many emotional triggers.” The man's voice sounded weary, as though he'd repeated this conversation before with Aunt Sass.

I emboldened myself and thudded my feet along the stairs, turning and heading down to the second-story landing. Aunt Sass stood frozen there, talking with a young fellow around my age. He had brown hair, with the trademark Goertz blue eyes. A band of freckles across his nose invested his face with a boyish air. His countenance looked oddly familiar, in the way that an actor sometimes will on
the late show. You know you've seen him before but you can't place him.

I greeted Aunt Sass with a nonchalant smile that suggested that I hadn't heard a word of her demanded murmurings to the young man. “Hi, Aunt Sass. You're sure you don't mind me calling you that?”

“Of course not, honey. You're my brother's boy, after all.” Her lipsticked smile worked itself into broadness. “And I want you to meet your cousin. This is my son, Aubrey Keller. Aubrey, this is Bob Don's long-lost boy, Jordan Goertz.”

Aubrey flailed my hand with an intense grip. His smile lasered me. I was under a mortar barrage of enthusiasm. “Jordan! Absolutely great to meet you! Welcome to the family.”

I returned his handshake with a little less verve—after all, I wasn't fueled by a nuclear reactor, and Aubrey apparently was. “Thanks, Aubrey, it's nice to meet you, too. But, Aunt Sass, my name's not Goertz. It's Poteet.”

“Poteet? You're not using Bob Don's name?” Her eyes narrowed and her voice fell back to a whisper.

“No, I'm not,” I answered, trying not to sound defensive. Not acknowledging Bob Don, I realized belatedly, might seem boorish to my new relations. I pressed onward. “My name's always been Poteet and I just decided to keep the one I grew up with. Seemed easiest.”

“Of course.” She smiled again and I wondered if joy ever evoked her grin. Aubrey's smile seemed warmer if a tad saccharine. I wondered again where I'd seen him before.

“Excuse me, I need to wash before dinner.” I pardoned myself and went up the remainder of the stairs. I didn't tarry to find out who Aubrey and Sass were arguing about—but an unpleasant tickle at the base of my spine suggested it might be me.

I'd secreted the heinous communications in an interior lining of my suitcase. I retrieved them and carefully placed them in the inside pocket of my seersucker jacket. I brushed my teeth and combed my hair. Whatever big proclamation Mutt had planned would be eclipsed by my announcement. I
wasn't about to be intimidated by bloodied Hallmark cards. I'd teach these folks to try to bully Jordan Poteet.

Or, perhaps, I reflected, I wouldn't have to make the accusations myself. If I told Uncle Mutt what'd been happening, he'd explode and he could play bad cop. He'd even be more likely to spot the culprit than I would. The Goertzes were obviously much more likely to be browbeaten by Mutt than by me. I congratulated myself on the excellence of my idea. Unless they were one of those families that stuck together through sick and sin. Probably not, given the sniping over cocktails.

I headed back downstairs, to find that the gathering in the den had spilled out onto the wraparound porch, where the family watched the setting sun turn the Gulf waves molten with light. The den had emptied, except for Rufus Beaulac lolling in a chair, drinking beer and watching a Rangers baseball game on a huge television.