Ladd Haven (14 page)

“
You must be so dedicated,
dear. Playing a musical instrument requires a due diligence none of
my boys seemed to master.”

Beau and Clint sat neutral while her
father shrugged it off. “Music isn’t for everyone,” he
said.

“
As I recall, you were too
busy for music lessons,” Beau said.

Jack laughed. “That I was and having a
heck of a good time!”

Both Mr. and Mrs. Foster ignored the
commentary, she interjecting, “Music will take you far, Felicity.
There are so many ways it will benefit you in the long run, you
have no idea.”

“
She’s right,” Mr. Foster
chimed in, drawing her attention to him. Seated at the head of the
table, his wife at his side, he definitely felt like the head of
the household despite his tendency toward quiet observation. His
presence was imposing, commanding. He felt every bit the wealthy,
successful man she’d always heard him to be. One of the Foster
wives removed his plate and he immediately filled the space with
the spread of his elbows. “As a musician, you’ll broaden your
horizons, travel in good circles, meet good people. I have several
friends back in Chattanooga that might be able to help you should
you pursue a career as a flutist.”

“
Oh, I’m definitely going to
be a flutist,” Felicity replied. She was unequivocal about her
career choice. Travis was going to law school and she was going to
pursue her music to the Masters level and beyond.

Gerald Foster smiled, a bit patronizing
but affably so. “I believe you will. But life has a way of changing
hearts. What we start out wanting isn’t always what we end up
having.”

A distinct chill entered his wife’s
eyes. Oblivious to the change, Mr. Foster continued, “Ask any one
of my boys. They’ll tell you. Your job is to keep moving forward,
upward until you find your way. My advice is to try and enjoy the
ride.”

“
Yes, sir.” Felicity lowered
her gaze, uncomfortable with a new agitation creeping into the
dining room, beginning and ending with her grandmother. Suddenly
Felicity felt like an intruder. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to
freshen up.”

Mr. Foster arched a brow as Mrs. Foster
replied, “Certainly, dear. Bathroom is down the hall past the
kitchen.”

“
Thank you.”

She stood, the men mirroring her
movements, then hurried from the table in as controlled a manner as
she could. Once clear of the room, she could hear the muted
whispers commence in her absence. Something was eating at
them—something they didn’t want her to know. Passing the kitchen,
Felicity glimpsed the wives setting plates in the dishwasher, the
housekeeper moving in and around them. Second-guessing her
obligation to help, Felicity forced herself forward, reminding
herself she was a guest here. She didn’t know these people. Maybe
this was the way they preferred it.

Safely inside the bathroom,
Felicity marveled at the stone vanity, the intricately carved
cabinets. Elaborate sconce lighting glowed from either side of a
wood-framed mirror, its finish glazed gold. The ceramic toilet
gleamed, appearing untouched by a human hand. Turning from it, she
wasn’t about to be the first. She’d only come in here as escape.
Drawing the length of her French braid forward, she peered at her
reflection, wondering if anyone else noticed. Every time Mr. Foster
spoke up, he punctured the mood with innocent commentary. His words
seemed harmless yet the reaction they incited was anything
but.
Did no one care for the
man
?
Were husband
and wife at odds
? Her mom never mentioned
any problems between them. Then again, she never mentioned them,
period.

Felicity wasn’t naïve. She knew there
were people who put forth a pretty face for the community while
they clawed each other’s eyes out behind the scenes. Were the
Fosters that way? Was this entire evening a charade for her
benefit? Why waste the effort? She hadn’t seen or talked with them
for the last ten years, why start now?

Because her father insisted. Because
her father wanted to re-establish their connection. Jack Foster had
moved back home. He was rebuilding his life, he claimed, and wanted
it to include her. Just because her mother didn’t like him didn’t
mean she had to dislike him. She’d learned a lot about
relationships during a psychology course at college. People were
complicated, unpredictable and weird. They had issues and usually
communicated their feelings poorly. That was her take away message.
Her family was only proof positive. Seemed maybe the Fosters were,
too.

Felicity inhaled deep and full, calming
the last flitter of doubt. This wasn’t her issue. Whatever their
problems were, they weren’t hers. She was here because her father
asked her to be, nothing more and nothing less. If this dinner led
to a deeper relationship in the future, then so be it. Like he
said, she was her own woman. If her mother didn’t like it, tough.
She’d have to live with it. A smile erupted from Felicity. Part of
her liked challenging her mom. It made her feel strong,
independent. Tossing her braid, she thrust her shoulders back and
emerged from the bathroom. Giving a tug to her blouse, she felt
good.

There had been no harm in this dinner.
None. Nearing the open doorway to the kitchen, Felicity overheard,
“I’m surprised Jack invited her over in the first
place.”

“
Me, too. Between him and
his father, the two should be ashamed of themselves.”

Felicity paused, her pulse lodged
squarely in her throat.

“
Gerald is making a complete
fool of himself over the girl.”

“
It’s embarrassing. I feel
so sorry for Victoria.”

“
Do you think she knows
about the beating?”

Felicity clamped a hand over
her mouth and stepped back against the wall.
Beating
?

“
I doubt it. Gerald does, I
know that for a fact. Abby Sue told me that her daddy confronted
him directly on the issue. Asked him point blank if his son was
guilty.”

“
He
didn’t
!”

“
Yes, ma’am he did and
Gerald confirmed it.”

“
I would think he’d deny it
to his grave.”

“
Apparently not. And why
should he? The whole town knows.”

The other woman hummed in agreement—an
agreement to what, Felicity had no clue. Was her father guilty of a
beating? Had he been in a bar brawl? Arrested?

“
I’m only surprised Delaney
didn’t stop her from coming.”

“
I am, too. Especially with
that new husband of hers.”

“
You’d think he’d mind his
new daughter going to the home of her mother’s abuser.”

“
Even if it is
family.”

Dread iced Felicity’s bones.

“
Jack always was a
cold-hearted one.”

“
Even Beau
agrees.”

“
Clint, too. You know he
supported Delaney when she moved out. Offered to help her find a
place.”

“
He’s so sweet.”

“
Jack isn’t. I tell you, I
don’t know why we even had to be here. Hitting a woman casts a
black mark on the entire family and now I feel dirty. Guilty by
association. You know what I mean?”

“
Uh-hm, I do.”

Felicity shrank away from the doorway,
melted into the wall. She couldn’t listen to another word. Her
father an abuser? Against her mother?

Chapter Eleven

“
Calm down, Felicity. You’re
not making any sense! What beating? Who are we talking
about?”

Felicity clenched the phone in hand,
nerves peeling the skin from her body. Travis wasn’t getting it. He
wasn’t getting it! “My father! My father is an abuser!”

“
What? Did he hit
you?”

“
No, not me!”

“
Then who?”

“
My mother!”

“
What?”

Felicity couldn’t respond
anymore. Her vocal cords had been stripped taut, her eyes swollen
with tears. Listening to those women gossip about her parents had
been the most horrible moment of her life. She’d been humiliated,
reduced to hiding in a bathroom until her father came looking for
her.
Felicity, are you all right in
there
?

She pretended to be sick.
She pretended to be vomiting. She ran the faucet, flushed the
toilet, refused to talk to him. Her father had abused her mother.
Her mom left him because he hit her.
Why
had she never said anything
?

“
You’re not making any
sense,” came Travis’ rational voice through the phone—rational to
the point of madness. “Start from the beginning and tell me what
happened.”

When was the beginning? The day her
father beat her mother? The day they were married? How often had it
happened? How long did it go on? Why?

There were so many questions, none of
which made sense. Felicity couldn’t imagine any man hitting her
mother and living to tell about it. Her mother was a bull. She was
tough and strong and while sometimes it got on Felicity’s nerves,
it certainly would have served her well if a man came at her with
his fists. Why didn’t she shoot him?

She carried a gun. Without fail she
carried a pistol tucked in her boot. Where was that when all this
was happening? It didn’t make sense. None of it made
sense.

“
Where are you?” Travis
asked, his tone placating, cautious, as though he didn’t want to
spook her. “I’ll come and get you.”

Felicity looked around her. Where was
she?

After splashing her face to mimic a
sick person the best she could, she’d made her excuses and drove
away from the home, drove as far and as fast as she could. “I’m in
a parking lot at the Piggly Wiggly.”

“
Which one?”

She glanced around the premises, but
nothing looked familiar. There was a liquor store, a gas station,
several lamp posts casting the parking lot in dingy yellow. “I
don’t know.”

“
Are you near a road? Can
you check?”

The impatience in his voice grated on
her. “I don’t know where I am, Travis. I left as fast as I could.”
She couldn’t stand to be in that house with those people another
second! Didn’t he get that?

“
Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll
check the Piggly Wiggly locations and find you. Don’t
move.”

Done. She couldn’t move if she had to,
her body limp from fear, nerves, shock—all of the above. Jack
Foster had hit her mother. It was unforgivable. Unfathomable. What
hurt worse than knowing her father was a creep was the fact that
her mother knowingly allowed her to go into his home unescorted.
Let her waltz in there thinking everything was okay, these people
were normal, they could kiss and make up. It cut Felicity in half,
split her heart in two like nothing ever had. What happened to the
overprotective mother, the one she grew up with, tolerated? Didn’t
she care about her well-being? Didn’t she care what happened to her
daughter?

Gnawing on her lip, Felicity
double-checked the locks on her doors. Phone clutched in lap, she
watched for signs of trouble. But with few people walking around at
this hour she felt okay. She was temporarily okay. Her thoughts
reverted back to the Fosters. Those women talked about
father
and
son.
What did Gerald have to do with any of it? Had he covered for his
son? Gone against her and her mom somehow? Horrible images of him
hitting Victoria Foster crossed her mind. Was he an abuser
too?

It might explain his odd behavior
tonight. He hardly said a word and when he did, it seemed to be the
wrong one. The whole deal was wrong. She should never have gone.
Would never have gone if she knew the truth. Tears swam into her
eyes. Why didn’t her mother prevent this from happening in the
first place? And Nick. The women mentioned Nick. Did he know? Was
that why he tried to talk her out of coming? But he had to. They
said the whole town knew. Everyone knew. Everyone knew but
her!

Delaney paced the living room. Nick
remained on the couch, calm, quiet. He didn’t try to stop her. He
didn’t say a word. He sat and he waited. Regarding him with a wary
heart, she asked, “Where could she be? It’s eleven
o’clock?”

“
Maybe they’re having a good
time.”

“
I doubt it.”

“
It’s possible.”

“
Doubtful.”

“
The Fosters seem like nice
people.”

“
Jack isn’t.”

“
But she’s not with Jack
alone, is she?”

“
No.”

Nick outstretched an arm along the back
of the couch and cocked a brow. “Well, then?”

Delaney grunted. Felicity was not
having a good time. She couldn’t be. Not when Jack was involved.
Felicity was a smart girl. She’d see through the Fosters and her
father’s charade in no time.

Time. That’s what Delaney had given
her. Time and space to learn the truth on her own. The truth. Well,
not the whole truth but enough of the truth to trim her curiosity.
Jack was playing games with Felicity and while Delaney didn’t know
his end game, she did know it was a game. Jack didn’t care about
anyone but himself. She’d missed it as a teenager but it was clear
as the blue sky to the adult in her. Jack was self-indulgent,
self-centered and insensitive. He might convince himself he was the
good guy here, but he wasn’t. In time Felicity would discover the
same for herself. And it would hurt.