Lies of the Heart (27 page)

Frowning, he choked out, “I never knew.” In the back of his mind he wondered how much else he didn’t know. Seeing the empty space at the edge of the mirror, he asked, “So where’s the picture now?”

“Buried with him.” Walter cleared his throat. “When he…had the chest pains that day he grabbed for that picture and never let it go all the way to the hospital. Hell, we couldn’t have pried it from his fingers if we wanted to. Your gran said it was the last thing he looked at before he died.” The older man shrugged uncomfortably. “It was only fitting it stay with him, she thought.”

A mixture of disbelief and love welled inside him. All this time he’d thought he had to make something of himself to show his granddad he was special. Wonder rushed through him as he realized he’d never had to prove anything; granddad was always proud of him and had been until the day he died. The heavy burden that had weighed him down his whole life lifted and he felt twenty pounds lighter and inches taller.

Chance had assumed the face down picture in granddad’s hands had been of his grandmother. He must have spoken his thoughts aloud.

“No, son. She knew her place—” he stopped short.

Curious, Chance asked, “What do you mean, her place?”

“Never you mind, just stop wallowing in self-pity, that’s all.” He turned his back and busied himself with dumping out the beer.

Getting up and marching around the bar, Chance confronted Walter. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not getting away with it that easily. For once, tell me straight out.”

“Ain’t my place.”

“Sure the hell is if you were granddad’s
friend
.” He emphasized the last word.

“That’s why I should shut my trap now and keep it shut.”

Blowing out a breath, he asked, “Does this have anything to do with him and Mrs. Warfield being married once?”

Walter dropped the mug he held. The shattering glass rent the air, shards spraying in the wash sink. Walter’s face went pale and slack as he looked into Chance’s reflection. His mouth opened and closed twice before he got out, “How did you…”

Chance nodded over his shoulder. “Tessa and I found the papers in the safe.”

“She knows?”

He nodded grimly. “Is that what this feud is all about?”

Wiping his hands on his apron, Walter said, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He went to leave.

Sticking out his hand, Chance forestalled his exit. “No way, old man. Come on, fess up.”

He must have seen the determination in Chance’s face; he stopped trying to move. “Oh all right, but it ain’t pretty and you’re not going to like it.”

“I figured that much.”

Five minutes later, sitting at a back table with no one else in the bar, Walter took a great gulp of beer, and then licked the froth from his lips. Chance’s middle was in a knot and the longer he waited the worse it got. He sipped his cola, hoping what he was about to hear wouldn’t make him sick to his stomach.

He looked intently at the older man, noting the beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. “Go on,” he coaxed, trying to hold back his impatience.

“Well…I don’t know everything ’cause I wasn’t there, mind you. I just know what Gabe told me over the years whenever he got drunk and spilled his guts.” He swallowed another mouthful of brew. “Back then he was a lot like you were, cocky and wild, and he charmed all the girls. But there was one girl who wouldn’t fall for it.”

“Granny Warfield.”

“You got that right. Apparently, he pursued her and did the unexpected, he fell in love with her.”

It felt like a mule kicked Chance in the gut. That must have been what Father Tom meant that night about his granddad letting someone go. “And?”

“They were as different as night and day. She was so serious and bookish while he was a hell raiser. He didn’t let that stop him, though. He wanted her bad, so it seems. And she wouldn’t hop in bed with him or anyone else unless she was married. So, he proposed and they eloped.” He shrugged it off. “Your gran even stood up for them being Warfield’s best friend and all. Hell, there were pictures of the three of them all chummy and smiling, but your gran tore them up.”

Chance nearly groaned at that. “The pictures.” He remembered the day he and Tessa had found them and the time he tried to ask his grandmother about them. Getting back to Walter, he asked, “He realized the error of his ways, right?”

“Yep. It wasn’t too long after that the differences really came out and she grew less understanding.”

Grabbing for his cola, Chance took a long drink.

“But once she found out she was expecting—”

Chance slammed down his drink and nearly choked. He coughed as the bubbles went down the wrong way. “Expecting?” he gasped. “God, Walter, you can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious. He freaked out, as your generation would say, and left her. He couldn’t handle the responsibility at the time. That’s when he took up with your gran.”

Sitting up straight, he asked, “What?”

“She was there for him when Warfield tuned him out. She’d listen to him and basically let him run around as much as he wanted. He needed that then and she waited patiently, knowing he’d come back to her since she knew all his secrets yet still loved him.”

“Whereas Granny Warfield never let him forget.” Chance seemed to sum it all up as Walter nodded. He held his breath, but he had to ask the question. “The baby?”

“Died. She miscarried.”

A knife-like pain sliced through Chance’s heart at that. He’d only found out about his son, yet somehow felt a certain connection to the pain she must have suffered. He shouldn’t feel anything for someone who ripped a child, his child, from his own mother. But he did. He felt empathy. The loss still hadn’t sunk all the way in yet, but he figured it would soon enough. And he couldn’t share that with Tessa.

Something probed at his mind, the memory of Granny Warfield balling her eyes out that first night he’d mentioned Tessa wanting a baby. She must have been crying for her own, right? Or, maybe, she did have a heart after all and cried for his and Tessa’s son and what she’d done.

He barely caught Walter’s next words for all the thoughts whirling around in his head.

“…when your dad started in with Tessa’s mom, well, all the old wounds came back ten-fold.”

“What did you say?” There was a buzz in his ears.

Walter slugged down the last of his beer, and then poured himself another from the pitcher near his hand. “I didn’t think you knew about that.” He heaved a great, big sigh. “Your daddy didn’t die the way they said.”

His blood ran cold. “What do you mean? He got drunk one night and froze on the railroad tracks.”

“Not exactly. Granny Warfield, as you call her, discovered her daughter-in-law, Tessa’s mother, having an affair with your daddy. She couldn’t stand it and told her son. He went berserk and hunted them down. He found them at that little cabin near the tracks, you know where it is.”

He nodded numbly.

“He killed her, shot your daddy in the chest, and then he turned the gun on himself. Your daddy stumbled out and eventually landed on the tracks. He’d been drinking, so it was a good story to stick to and try to cover up the scandal.”

Bile rose in his throat and Chance had all he could do to force it back down again. Shock reverberated through his body. “And my mom?”

“She was sick about it. She took off right after and left you with your grandparents, drinking herself to death, so they say.” He shrugged again.

Chance dragged a hand down his face, shaking from it all. He put the pieces in place and came up with the rest of what he knew. Tessa’s grandfather walked out because of granny’s part in it all and having a hand in killing their son. And poor, sweet Tessa paid dearly for all the sins of her elders.

“You, too,” Walter pointed out.

Looking up in stunned wonder, he asked, “Huh?”

“Tessa paying dearly, you just said under your breath. You did, too. I think that’s part of the reason why Gabe made out that will the way he did. He used to say how you two were drawn to each other and maybe there was something more to it than anyone ever realized.”

“There was,” Chance said hoarsely.

“Is there still?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore.”

With a great weight in his soul, Chance inserted the key in the lock. The loud click grated along his nerves. He shoved open the door and walked in. The stale scent of mothballs rushed up to him and nearly made him gag. The dark, dingy house hadn’t felt the fresh breeze of air in years. “And so hadn’t Granny Warfield,” he muttered under his breath.

Going in further and gently closing the door behind him, he detected the faint sounds of weeping. His middle clutched. He hardened his heart and walked across the room and to the stairs. A minute later, he'd climbed the last step and rounded the corner.

“There, there, Theresa,” his grandmother said with her arm around the other woman’s shoulder as Granny Warfield leaned into her while they sat side by side on the bed.

“She hates me.” Granny sniffled. “I only was trying to help her.”

“I know. I know.”

“You told me they’d never find out.”

Chance’s middle clenched at that.
No, it can’t be.

“I didn’t think she would, dear. Why, my doctor friend said he’d take care of all the arrangements.”

With each admission Chance grew a little colder. They’d conspired to conceal the baby in spite of the ongoing feud. Lord, they must have wanted to hide it pretty bad.

“Gabe found out, didn’t he? That’s why he made up that cock-a-mamie will, wasn’t it?”

His grandmother sighed heavily. “Yes. I tried, but he discovered it right after the baby was adopted. I guess I was feeling guilty and I couldn’t keep it in any more. It was easier to blame you. I’m sorry.”

It felt as if a mule kicked him in the belly. He nearly doubled over. His own flesh and blood had betrayed him. It was one thing with the will; he could live with the temporary terms. But this, this was the deepest cut of all. Now, he knew just how Tessa was feeling. Who could he trust? Only Tessa’s name reverberated through his head.

“How could you two?” he asked, shock edging his question.

They jumped, gasping. He entered the bedroom with his fists balled.

“Chance, please understand.”

“Understand, Gran? You’re asking me to understand.” He snorted loudly. “While you two were in co-hoots with each other you ripped out a young girl’s heart, never mind pulled the wool over my eyes. Why, damn it?”

Granny Warfield straightened her back. “I will not have that language in my house.”

“The hell you have any say right now.” Gritting his teeth, he turned to his grandmother. “Why, Gran, just tell me that?”

Her chin quivered, tugging at his heart. “It would have been a disaster, honey.”

“Like my father’s murder.”

They gasped in unison again, his gran pressing a hand to her chest.

“Yes, I know,” he practically snarled.

His grandmother broke down in tears. “I’m so sorry. Theresa’s husband had a lot of influential friends and had them cover up the mess before a scandal erupted.” Gazing up at him with pleading eyes, she said, “We did it for you and Tessa. You were just kids at the time, babies really. It was bad enough you had to live with what you did, but it could have been so much worse.” She shivered in revulsion.

It was true, of course, but it still was hard to swallow. “Gran, you couldn’t have told us when we grew up?”

Granny Warfield stepped near him, poking him in the chest. “What and have you two getting closer than you already were?” At his raised eyebrow, she went on, “That’s right, we knew you two were just palling around back then and look where that got you.”

He bit back a snarky reply. “Maybe you forced us to find each other, did you ever think of that?”

She moved back a step, surprise written across her features.

“That’s right, Granny Warfield, we’re always attracted to the forbidden, aren’t we?”

“Good, God, no,” she choked out.

“Yes, while you two and granddad kept your secrets and made us shut up if we had any questions, Tessa and I had nowhere to turn to but each other. We were drawn together and you had a part in that, whether you like to admit that or not.”

“Chance, don’t. She’s been hurt enough,” his grandmother said.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I don’t know how either one of you could stick up for each other.”

“We used to be best friends.”

“Until Gabe came between us,” Granny Warfield said with a great deal of sadness. Wearily, she sat back down. “I loved that old cuss once.”

It was Chance’s turn to be shaken up. He stepped back and clutched the doorframe. For the first time ever there wasn’t a trace of bitterness in the old woman’s voice.

His grandmother sighed again. “And he loved you.” Gazing up at Chance, she winced noticeably. “I hated the fact that she got him instead of me, so I told stories, lies really. They didn’t stand a chance after that.”

“Jealousy does that,” Mrs. W. added.

“I’ve lived to regret it, too.” His grandmother bowed her head.

Mrs. W. reached over and patted her hand. “Now, now, Della, don’t go blaming it all on yourself. We were young and headstrong which didn’t help one bit.” She hesitated for a moment. “Who knows if we would have lasted without your interference or not. Then after the baby…” She choked back tears.

His grandmother reached over and grabbed her hand in hers. “Now, honey, don’t go upsetting yourself again.”

Chance shook his head in wonder. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” After all the years of mudslinging this was a shock to his system.

His gran chuckled, a hollow sound. “Well, honey, when you get old and close to dying you start looking at things differently.”

“Gabe’s passing opened up our eyes,” Mrs. W. said.

“Yes, we’re tired of fighting and not being friends any more.” She took a big, unsteady breath. “That’s one reason why I’m selling our house and moving in here with Theresa.”

“Yes, and because with Tessa gone from the house I’ve been filled with self-pity.”