The Wild Ones (24 page)

“You can’t tell Daddy.  Promise me.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know I hate it when you ask me to do that.”

“It’s important.  Daddy’s being crazy and if Trick loses his job, his family will be in a lot of trouble.”

Drogheda has a soft spot for stories like that, not having come from a wealthy family herself.  She worked the first many years of her life to support her younger sisters until they were married and well cared for.  By then, according to Drogheda, she was a spinster, so she decided to make her life keeping other people’s families.  And thank God she did.  She’s been like a mother to me for a long time.

“Is that his name?  You didn’t tell me before.”

 I nod.

“What kind of name is Trick?” she asks, a sour look on her face.

“It’s a nickname.  It’s short for Patrick.”

Her eyes light up. “Patrick is a good, strong name.  I like him already.  Do you love him?”

“Drogheda!  I’ve only known him—”

“I didn’t ask how long you’ve known him.  I asked if you love him.  I say yes, you do. I can see it in your eyes even if you can’t.”

There’s no fooling Drogheda.  I melt onto a bar stool across from her.  “I do.  I really do.”

“Does he know?”

“I think he might.  I may have accidentally said something to him over the weekend.”

“I thought you were with Jenna.”

“I was.  But we weren’t alone.”

“Lying to your
papi
won’t do you any favors,
mi Camille.”

“I know, but he’s just so hard-headed when it comes to Trick.  I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“Maybe you should ask him.  He’s a smart man,
chica. 
Give him the benefit of the doubt.  He’s your father and he loves you.  He only wants what’s best for you.”

“Even if it’s Brent?”

She screws up her face and I know her answer before she gives it.  “Well, let’s just hope that’s not his only choice.”

“Promise me you won’t tell him, Drogheda. Please!”

“I promise.  But you need to do the right thing by the people you love, Cami. 
All
the people you love.”

I sigh.  “I know.  And I will.  I’m just waiting for the right time.”

We both turn our heads when a light knock sounds at the door behind us.  My heart jumps up into my throat when I see Trick standing there with the tips of his fingers stuffed into his pockets.  I smile brightly, even as I’m praying he didn’t hear any of our conversation.

I walk to the door and open it.  “Good morning.”

He clears his throat and smiles tightly.  “Mornin’.  Can I, uh, can I talk to you?”

His eyes are darting everywhere, like he doesn’t want to look directly at me.  My stomach drops into my boots and I fight back the urge to run to the bathroom and hurl.

“Of course.”  I turn back and smile at Drogheda. I know it faltered when I see her face is lined with concern.  “Don’t worry about breakfast, Drogheda.”

She nods, but says nothing.  I can feel empathy pouring off her like water off a cliff.  I know without having to ask that she feels as apprehensive as I do.  Trick wouldn’t be here, visiting me at the main house where there’s a possibility of being discovered, if it wasn’t important.  And bad.

I follow Trick onto the patio out back.  He walks to the railing and stops, turning to face me.  He looks down at the toes of his boots, making me more and more nervous.

“All right, spit it out. Whatever it is. I’m a big girl.  I can take it.”

That draws his eyes upward.  And they’re filled with a thousand things, not one of them good.

“I don’t really know how to say this.”

“Just say it.”

Why am I encouraging him?

But I know the answer to that.  Because the suspense, dragging it out, feels like it’s killing me.

“I found out some…things when I got back last night, things that have to do with my father.”

Like a death row inmate might feel when the red phone rings, I feel a temporary reprieve. 

“Oh.  Okay.  Tell me.”

“The thing is,” he begins then pauses to run his fingers through his hair.  My nerves are back again. 

“What is it, Trick?  You’re starting to scare me.”

And he is.  I feel like there’s something much worse than getting dumped on the horizon.  But what could that possibly be?

He looks up and his eyes meet mine.  In them is an overwhelming sadness that makes my chest feel tight.

“My father left me something, something that my mother apparently had decided not to give me.  Until she met you.”

Now, I’m just confused. “Me?”

He nods.  “He left me a Ferrier’s kit he’d bought me years ago, along with a letter.”

I wait for him to continue, to tell me what’s in the letter.  When he doesn’t, I prompt him.  It’s that or reach out and choke him.  “And?”

“I never really knew why my father killed himself.  Until now.”

“Did he tell you in the letter?  Or did your mother tell you?”

“He explained it in the letter.  I think I told you when he first started out in this business, he had a partner.  Someone he trusted and had a pretty close relationship with.  Until he started seeing the guy’s wife.”

The gasp slips from my lips before I can raise my fingers to stop it.  “He cheated on your mother?”

He nods again. 

“I don’t mean to be callous, but stuff like that happens all the time.  Why would he kill himself over that?  I mean, it’s terrible, but…”

“That’s not the worst part.”  He pauses to consider.  “Well, maybe it is, but it’s not the
only
bad part.”

He stops again and this time rubs his fingers over his eyes.  Everything from his posture to the hang of his head shouts that he’s in misery.  I do the only thing I can and I go to him. 

I approach him slowly, like he did with Rags over the weekend.  He doesn’t move away when I lay a hand on his arm.  I mean only to comfort.

“Tell me the rest.”

“When they were discovered, his partner wanted out, of course, and the only way my father could repay the financial investment was to sign over the horses.  It left our family with nothing.  We had no money, he had no job.  All he and my mother had between them was hurt.  And regret.”

“So that’s why he killed himself?”

“Well, guilt, yes.  But also, he was able to spend his last chunk of money on an insurance policy with pretty much no restrictions.  Upon his death, Mom would get enough money to take care of us for a long time.  And it did.  Until it ran out recently and they started investigating the indemnity clauses of the policy.”

“How did…how did he die?”

“Wet roads, no guard rail and a very deep quarry.”

“But that could’ve been an accident.  Are you sure he…”

“He left my mother a letter.  He planned the whole thing, knew exactly what he was doing.”

“Ohmigod, Trick. I’m so sorry.”

I just want to take him in my arms, but when he looks up at me, I see that there’s more.  And by the look on his face, the worst is yet to come.

“But that’s not all?”

He shakes his head.

“Cami, his business partner was Jack Hines.”  He pauses, watching me closely, as if I’m supposed to have some reaction to that.  When I say nothing, his eyebrows shoot up.

“Okay.  What am I missing?” I ask.

“The person my dad was sleeping with was your mom.”

Yes, that would make sense with the way he explained things, but there’s no way that’s accurate.

“There has to be some kind of mistake.  I mean, my parents have been happily married for, like, forever.”

“As far as you know.”

“No, they have been. You don’t think I’d have known if something like that happened?  Stuff like that tears families apart.  I’d have known.  Trust me.”

“Is there any chance you could be wrong?”

He’s not accusing anybody of anything.  He’s not shouting and telling me I’m wrong or calling anyone names.  He’s just asking a question, a question that feels like it might have claws long enough to rip my heart out.

“Trick, what’s this all about?  Are you trying to push me away, because there are easier ways of going about it than this.”

“Of course not!  God, Cami, do you really think I could make something like this up?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know you all that well.  I mean, it’s been, what?  A few weeks?”

“Yes, you do. You know me well enough to know I could never do something like that.”

“No, I don’t know that.  Twenty-four hours ago, I would have thought I knew you better than to think you could come to my house and tell me things like this.  But guess what.  I was wrong.”

Trick reaches for me.  “Cami, you have to believe me. I—“

I step back.  Away from him.  Away from what he’s insinuating.  Away from the pain of what he’s telling me.

“No!  I don’t have to believe anything.  And I don’t want to hear any more!”

In sadness, he watches me.  I watch him back.  The longer I think about it, the angrier I get. 

I curl my fingers into tight fists.  I want to lash out, to call him a liar, to tell him I never want to see him again.  The fact that none of it is true only makes it hurt that much more. It burns like acid in my stomach. 

“Stop looking at me like that.  You’re wrong. You’re wrong and your dad was a liar.  It looks like you are, too.  Do you honestly think my father wouldn’t have recognized you?  Wouldn’t have known you, if any of this were true?  Do you think he would’ve hired you if any of this were true?”

A tiny voice speaks in the back of my mind.  It’s the voice of reason, the voice of the devil’s advocate.  A voice I don’t want to hear. 

Maybe this is why he wants you to stay away from Trick.

“Cami, it’s
why
he hired me.  He did it as a favor to my mother.  He knew she needed help and he wanted to give it.  They were both innocent in all this.”

“Innocent?  You mean if you overlook the fact that your mother couldn’t keep her man at home?”

I know I finally landed a blow to his unshakable cool when I see his lips tighten.

“That’s not fair and you know it.  Be careful, Cami.  Be very careful.”

“Why?  Does the truth hurt?”

Trick makes a noise, a split between frustration and exasperation.  I don’t care that I’m being mean and unreasonable.  I can’t believe what he’s telling me.  I won’t.

“If you’re so sure none of this is true, why don’t you just ask your dad if he knew Brad Henley.  See what he says.  If, after that, you want to talk, give me a call.”

“You know you could get fired for something like this, right?  Telling lies and spreading rumors about your employer.”

“You can’t fire someone who has already quit.”

With one final look that pierces some soft spot deep inside my soul, Trick turns and walks away.  For the first time, I notice that his car is parked at the front of the stable rather than out back.  Sooty is standing in the round pen that faces the house, watching us.  He nods once and turns back the other way.

A toxic brew of emotions is churning in my chest as I watch Trick walk down the path, say something to Sooty then climb into his car and drive away.  Of everything that I feel—anger, bitterness, disappointment, confusion, betrayal—the most painful part is seeing Trick leave.  Not knowing whether or not I’ll ever see him again.  Not knowing if I want to.

But I do.  I know I do.  Behind all my anger and resentment, I love him.  Still.  Always.

Almost an hour later, I’m still standing in the exact same spot when my father comes out to go to the stable.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks.

I don’t say anything at first.  I just look up at the tall, handsome man that has dominated my world for so long, even if it’s from behind the scenes.

Do I really know him at all?  Beyond that which he
wants
me to know?

“Daddy, can I ask you a question?”

He doesn’t look the least bit hesitant.  Curious maybe, but not hesitant.  Or guilty.

“Of course. What is it?”

“Do you know Brad Henley?”

There’s a pause, during which my heart stops as I wait.  I don’t know whether to hope he does or hope he doesn’t.  Before I can work it out, though, it becomes a moot point. 

I see it.  The telltale twitch of Daddy’s left eye.  Although it’s the only outward sign, and only people who know him well realize what it means, I recognize his fury before he even opens his mouth.

I bury my face in my hands.  “Ohmigod, it’s true.”

“Cami, let’s go inside.  This isn’t the place for questions like that.”

 Daddy holds the back door open for me and I walk numbly through the house to his office.  It has all the solitude he might need to destroy my world.

During the short trip, I’m nauseous with knowledge that I never wanted, never needed and now can’t escape.  And on top of it all, I’d said awful things to Trick and now he’s gone.  The glow I woke up to is now nothing more than a dark, stormy cloud that’s threatening to never let me see sunshine again.