Starless Nights (Hale Brothers Series Book 2) (40 page)

“Beau . . .,” she says with a sigh as she walks over to the oven and picks up the small hand towel that hangs over the handle to dry her hands. She turns to look at me but doesn’t say anything else.

“How could you?” I ask in a low tone. Seeing her look so composed, there’s no question that she’s guilty. She lied to Leila and she lied to me.

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes fill with tears as she studies my face, but not once does she move, she stays completely still and poised.

“Years, Mom! Years! You had to of known that I loved her and you watched me cry over losing her for years! Night after night, I would lie in bed and stare out the window wondering what I did wrong. I didn’t understand and all I wanted to know was, why? Why! Why did you do it?” I’m now yelling at her and I just don’t care.

“Beau, you don’t understand.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“No, I don’t! So please explain it to me.” I match her and cross mine as well. I will not be intimidated by a parent any longer. I used to be afraid of her too, but not anymore. She’s lost her hold over me, and knowing this, I feel a bit free. Just like Drew, I’m officially done with all of it.

She starts pacing around the kitchen like she is trying to come up with what she wants to say. Well she’s had years to think of this moment.

Every second that passes, my muscles grow tighter and my skin feels hotter. I’m so pissed off I’ve almost reached my boiling point. She’s taking too long!

“Stop moving around and start talking!” She jumps at the volume of my voice. I might have felt bad about this at one time, but today I don’t.

“Your father made me tell her that,” she says so quietly, that I almost didn’t hear her. Another tear rolls down her face but I’m not swayed. I’m also not surprised by her statement. Maybe I’ll get more answers today than I came here for.

I continue to stare at her, the only movement being my eyes—blinking at her.

“Beau, you have to believe me when I say that I love Leila. I knew that she was your best friend and I knew that her leaving was going to be so hard on you, especially after the fire. When he told me that I had to get rid of her, and get rid of her for good, a huge part of me died for all of us: you, her, and me.”

“Why?” At the mention of him, my hands ball into fists.

“He didn’t think she was good enough. Her blue collar family wasn’t the type of family that he wanted us to associate with.”

“So you lied to her and me. You’ve lied for years. You have had so many opportunities to tell me this, yet you never did. All of this time, and the fakeness that you’ve even exhibited around her over the last year and half… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You don’t understand. Those years were not good for me either. I’m trying to forget them. I don’t want to talk about them.”

“You don’t want to talk about a lot of stuff. Tell me, did he have her father fired? Was it all a set up?”

She gasps. “What makes you think that?”

“We all lived under the same roof! He wasn’t discrete in anything that he did. Knowing him, he purposely used his bullying ways to get what he wanted, and he probably had something to do with all those fires too. It’s just too coincidental what happened to Leila’s family. It all seems premeditated and I’m surprised that no one else has put two and two together. Don’t you find it interesting that when he went to jail the fires stopped? There hasn’t been one in a year and a half.”

“Beau . . .” Her face is wary and her expression is guarded. She knows a lot more than what she’s telling.

“I know you have answers. Why won’t you give them to me? Why Mom? Why did you go along with him? Why did you let him do this to us for years? Why didn’t you ever tell me the truth? I need to know!”

“Why do you need to know? Can’t we all just move on?”

“Because I need to know! And no, I can’t just move on! Don’t you get it? He chose me to be his punching bag. He chose me to degrade the loudest, not only with his voice but his fists too. He chose me to hate the most. Yes! I have to know why. What did I ever do that was so wrong? Why didn’t you love me enough to protect me? All of this . . .” I sweep my hands out and around the room, “has shaped me into the person that I am today. Why did you force the one good thing that was mine away?”

“Because, Matt isn’t your father’s.” She gasps, her hands fly up to her mouth, and her eyes are huge.

I’m speechless and confused. My mother just confessed to me that she had an affair. Not that I could blame her, given what she was married to. So many thoughts are firing through my head, but the one that sticks is that Matt is only my half-brother. Not that it makes a difference to me, but it probably will to him and this causes my chest to tighten with worry for him.

Slowly, she lowers her hands and stands a little taller.

“I’m not going to tell you who his father is. Frankly it isn’t any of your business and when I decide to tell Matt, he will be the first person to know. You will not say anything to him.”

I can’t argue with this and my heart aches at what Matt has gone through when he could have been somewhere else, with someone else who could have loved him.

“Matt was born with anemia. He didn’t have enough red blood cells to carry oxygen throughout the body, and needed a blood transfusion. I didn’t know this. They had given me a sedative to help me sleep and asked your father for the blood. Well, you can imagine what happened next. He wasn’t a match to Matt. Two weeks later, your grandfather died. Your father had worked for him for over ten years and he was certain that if and when the time came, the business would be left to him . . . only it wasn’t. He still kept his job and his income, but as you know your father, he was outraged. I however had slipped into a postpartum depression that was intensified with grief from the loss. Prior to his death, I had planned on leaving your father. He must have caught wind of this, so he had me sign some documents that were supposedly business related—only they weren’t. They were forms terminating my parental rights. I should have read them but he was yelling at me to sign, so I did. If I divorced him or left, then the two of you belonged to him, and as for Matt, well that’s another story. I wouldn’t have even been allowed visitation. I spoke to a lawyer about it once, but she said with the affair, the depression, and the signed documents, he could prove that I was unfit and I would most likely lose. After all, a signed document—is a signed document. In the end, I chose not to say anything. I know that for several years things were not good around here, but every night I went to bed thinking of you three and that this time of your life really is short in the grand scheme of things, and it was almost over. I know I probably made the wrong decision, but what could I do? I couldn’t leave you and what type of life would you have had then? My fear was worrying more about the unknown of what was happening to you boys than the fear of being here. I love you Beau, I know life hasn’t been easy on you and I’m sorry. None of it was ever your fault. It was always mine.”

After Dad went to jail, she apologized to us a few times, but that was it. She’s very closed off and never truly lets her emotions show, so I often wondered, if she really was sorry about what we went through or not? Even though I am an adult now and living on my own, her saying that she loves me and it wasn’t my fault, still affects me. My eyes well up with tears and I shake my head to try and clear them.

She walks out of the kitchen, into the office, and then returns with a stack of papers. Laying them across the counter, she pulls out a pen, and hands it to me.

“What’s this?” I ask looking down at the pages.

“Your grandfather didn’t want your father to have any part of the business. He never really liked him. In his will, he left the business to his family: me, you, Drew, and Matt. We each own twenty-five percent of it. If your grandfather had left it all to me, then your father could have divorced me and taken half of the business and all its net worth. This way guaranteed that he didn’t have access to it. Don’t get me wrong, your grandfather loved all three of you and would have done anything for you. All of these years, I have acted as your fiduciary and any money earned went into individual trust accounts. I’ve also decided to sell the company. As of January first, the business is sold. You, Drew and I will each have access to the money immediately and Matt will when he turns eighteen.

“Does Drew know about this?” I’m shocked by what she is telling me.

“No, I was actually planning on calling both of you tomorrow night.”

Flipping through the document, I do see that it is a buy/sell agreement. I sign the papers and push them back across the counter to her. Looking up, I see that she’s watching me closely.

“I’m sorry for your childhood Beau. Believe it or not, every single bit of every second of it hurt me too. But, hopefully with what you have already received in your inheritance, and with this, as you begin your adulthood you’ll be able to put this behind you, move on. I hope it’s not too late for you to chase after every dream you’ve ever had. You, of all people, deserve the world.”

There’s only one thing I want to chase after, and there’s only one dream I’ve ever had . . . and it’s time to go get her.

My heart rate starts to pick up a little with excitement.

Giving her a small smile, I reach across the counter and squeeze her hand. She’s never been too affectionate and this takes her by surprise.

I grab the Jeep keys off the hook, and as I’m about the walk out the door, she calls my name.

“Beau.” I turn around to face her. “At the time, I really didn’t think that things would turn out this way. I thought you loved her enough to fight for her. I never thought that you would let her go.”

“When you hear daily that you’ll never be enough, and no one will ever want you, it kind of sticks. What did you really expect?”

Her eyes are watery. “I’m sorry.”

It is time to put all of this behind me, and I can’t stand here and listen to anymore. I need to go and there is only one place that I’m going, and that’s to her.

WALKING DOWN THE trail to Bean Point, something in the bottom of my heart tells me that she’s going to be here. I didn’t even stop by her parent’s home. If she flew here, to the island, then she’s at our spot on the beach. Leila has always been the type to suffer in silence and not talk about how she’s feeling, which is why no one knew exactly what had happened when we were fourteen.

Reaching the top of the dunes, sure enough I see her sitting by herself on our bench. No one is around today, leaving the beach and its surroundings completely undisturbed. She is so beautiful. I pause to take a mental picture of her in this moment. A moment where I’m going to lay it all out there. A moment that I hope is about to change and solidify everything for us.

In classic Leila style, she is wearing a pale blue sundress and her hair is blowing around her shoulders in the breeze. What upsets me though is that her hands are folded into her lap and she’s fidgeting with her fingers. Her shoulders are hunched over slightly, and she looks defeated and sad. I don’t want her to be sad anymore. I want to make her happy. I want to see her smile . . . no, I need to see her smile.

Closing the distance between the two of us, she must hear me and looks up. Her eyes are red, watery, outlined with dark circles, and they grow huge. She looks exhausted.

“Am I dreaming right now?” she whispers as I sit down next to her. The look in her eyes is indescribable. If I ever had any questions about how she truly felt about me, they are immediately erased by the affection and awe that is shining out of them.

A piece of her hair flips my way in the breeze and lavender fills my senses. She smells so good. I tuck the hair behind her ear and take a second to soak her in. Why I waited so long to fix us, I will never know. There is no one else for me. There never will be.

“Here,” I finally say, “I thought we could share like old times.” I set a clear bag in her lap and pull out two bottles of soda from a small brown paper bag. She looks down at the bag filled with salt water taffy, grabs a hold of it tightly, and tears begin to drip down her face.