Part 11 (1/2)
”Good morning, Mrs. Parker,” I mutter, not certain if I should be flattered that I look like Winona.
Adam grabs two plates of scrambled eggs and thick-cut bacon as he squints at me. ”She does kind of look like Winona with lighter hair. I never noticed it until now.”
”Who's Winona?” I finally ask, taking the plate Adam hands me as we make our way to a long breakfast table stocked with a basket of blueberry m.u.f.fins and a heaping plate of homemade waffles.
I grab a m.u.f.fin as Margaret sits next to me. ”Winona is my little sister. Or, she was. She died bout twenty years ago. You would have loved her. She was such a free spirit, like you. That must have taken a lot of courage to move all the way from Raleigh to Wrightsville all on your own.”
I turn to Adam and he smiles as he keeps his eyes on his plate. ”I don't know. I'm pretty used to moving around a lot. My mother died when I was seven so I moved from one foster home to another for a very long time.”
Her eyebrows knit together as she rubs my back. ”I'm so sorry to hear that, but happy to see that you've turned into such an independent and beautiful young woman. Some of us have more fight in us than others. Just like my Adam. You two make a fine pair.”
This woman was not subtle. Between her and her husband, I was beginning to understand why Adam was so persistent when we first met. I ate my breakfast in silence and was glad to help when it was time to start making potato salad, deviled eggs, and various other dishes while the men took their racks of ribs and slabs of meat out to the barbecue.
”Are you gonna be okay in here?” Adam asks as I chop celery for Aunt Kim.
”I'm fine. You go ahead and do your man stuff.”
”She's fine,” Margaret says as she wraps her arm around my shoulder and gives my arm a squeeze. ”You go check on your father. Make sure he's not burning off what little hair he's got left.”
Adam looks visibly tense at the mention of his father, but he manages to give me a quick kiss on the cheek before he scurries outside to join the men.
”A bit smaller than that, honey,” Aunt Kim says while pa.s.sing me on the way to the refrigerator.
Margaret watches the door for a moment after Adam leaves then turns to me. ”I know this may not be any of my business, but I want you to know that Adam is crazy about you.”
I smile as I grab another stalk of celery and set about chopping this one a bit smaller.
”I'm sure you've noticed the tension between him and his father.”
I look sideways at her and her face is kind and inquisitive. She's not fis.h.i.+ng for information; she's hoping to impart some wisdom.
”Yes, I've noticed that.”
She breathes deeply and exhales a long breath; a breath that is probably filled with years of frustration and regret. ”Can you promise me something, honey? Because I know he can be as stubborn as a mule on Wednesday when it comes to talking about his father and you seem like the kind of girl who can get him to open up. But I need you to promise me you'll keep an open mind when he opens his heart?”
I smile even though I feel uncomfortable with her request. I don't know what she means by ”when he opens his heart.” What kind of secret is Adam hiding?
Margaret and I finish up the potato salad and the coleslaw. As soon as I start piping the filling into the deviled eggs, the door bursts open and Adam flies past us toward the living room. The rage rolls off him in thunderous waves as he storms out of the kitchen.
I turn to Margaret and she quickly unties the strings on the back of my ap.r.o.n. ”Go ahead, honey. I'll finish this up.”
I pull the ap.r.o.n over my head and hand it to her then set off through the swinging door into the living room. I glimpse Adam's feet racing up the stairs and I follow quickly behind him. When I reach Jamie's bedroom, I find him sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows resting on the tops of his thighs and his hands clutching his hair. He's tapping his foot impatiently and I feel as if I'm edging closer to a ticking time bomb.
I step inside and close the bedroom door behind me. ”Adam, are you okay?”
He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, but he doesn't answer.
I slowly make my way across the fluffy white rug and take a seat next to him. ”I know you probably think I won't understand because I never knew my father-I hardly knew my mother-but I have a lot of regrets, and pain, eating away at me over the separation from my last foster mother. I have a lot of things I want to say to her, but sometimes I think I could live my whole life without saying those things. And sometimes I think the secrets will kill me.”
He lifts his head and looks at me. ”My dad wants me to go to Hawaii to schmooze some government officials for a new project on the naval base.”
”What's wrong with that? Hawaii is beautiful.”
”If we get the project, I'll have to stay there for up to two months to handle the startup.”
”Oh.” I stare at the rug on the floor because I don't want him to see the disappointment in my eyes any more than he can see it in the slump of my shoulders.
”I've been trying to quit for years, but my dad won't let me.” He gently turns my face toward him and the anguish in his eyes makes my chest ache. ”Claire, there's something you need to know about me.”
I draw in a slow breath, wis.h.i.+ng I were at home so I could meditate. Wis.h.i.+ng I were anywhere but here where I am about to hear a secret that may tear us apart. His mother's words repeat in my mind: Try to keep an open mind when he opens his heart.
”When I was seventeen, my friend Myles and I went to California for a surf compet.i.tion. I had been competing since I was fourteen, but it was his first compet.i.tion. He was so stoked because he placed eighth, which is really good for a first-timer. Anyway, to celebrate we decided to go f.u.c.k around at a beach in Laguna. It was one of the best looking beaches I've ever surfed at.” He closes his eyes as if he's picturing it in his mind. ”We found a spot that looked good for diving and we took turns doing cannonb.a.l.l.s and belly flops. Then I had the brilliant idea of jumping off backwards.”
A chill sprouts across my arms as I realize where this is going.
”He got scared and I started teasing him about it. Then we started wrestling, pretending we were gonna toss each other off the cliff. Myles foot slipped. He was so startled when he began to fall backwards that he reached for my feet and hit his head on the rocky cliffside.” He buries his face in his hands again, burying the shame. ”It was my fault, but I panicked and called my dad before I called 9-1-1. My dad convinced me to say it was an accident.”
If there is one thing that will comfort Adam right now it's for me to share my secret. It's so obvious, but I can't. I can't judge him after what I've done, but I also can't expect him not to judge me.
I put my hand under his chin and lift his face. His face is red and his eyes are br.i.m.m.i.n.g with unreleased tears. ”Adam, it wasn't your fault. It was an accident. It's not as if you pushed him off.”
”That's not the point. The point is my father refused to let me tell the truth about Myles' death. And now that I'm finally getting my life back together, now that I have you, he wants to take it all away.”
”You have your degree. You're young. You're smart. You're good looking. You can probably work anywhere. Why do you stay there?”
He shakes his head. ”Don't you get it? The company has been in the family for more than a hundred years; started by my great-great-grandfather. Nothing is more important to my dad than the company. I can't leave. My dad has been holding what happened with Myles over my head for more than four years.”
The bedroom door opens and a girl with dark-blonde hair is standing there crying with an expression of rage contorting her dainty features.
”Jamie?” Adam says as he stands from the bed.
”You're the reason he died?” she says, glaring at him. ”I've been blaming myself for four years because I was the one who told him to enter that f.u.c.king compet.i.tion and now I find out you're the one who pushed him off.”
”I didn't push him off, Jamie. You didn't hear everything.”
”I heard enough. Get the f.u.c.k out of my room!” She opens the door wide and doesn't look at me as she says, ”And take your next victim with you.” Adam moves toward her and she pushes him hard in the chest. ”Get out!”
Only Margaret questions why Adam and I aren't staying for the picnic, but she seems fine with Adam's explanation that he'll tell her later. The three-hour drive back to Wrightsville is filled with a silence so heavy I can barely breathe under the weight of it. I don't think anything can make this weekend worse, until I walk into my apartment and find the certified letter on the breakfast bar.
Chapter Fourteen.
Relentless Demands ”THE DEPOSITS HAVE BEEN COMING for almost seventeen years, plus interest.”
”How much?” I demand.