His Texas Wildflower (14 page)

 

The next afternoon, Rebecca drove to the Ruidoso airport and waited for Gwyn Hardaway's small commuter jet to land. Their initial meeting in the lobby was worse than stiff and, though Rebecca allowed the woman to give her a brief hug, there was little warmth between them as they exited the building and walked to the parking lot.

When they reached Rebecca's old Ford, it was clear that Gwyn was disgusted by the mode of transportation and even more embarrassed to be seen in it, but Rebecca didn't make any apologies. The truck had belonged to her mother and that alone made it special.

Rebecca drove them to the hotel where Gwyn had booked a room for the night, then waited in the spacious lobby while the other woman checked in and dealt with her luggage. So far only a handful of words had passed between the two of them and the strained silence reminded Rebecca how drastically her life had changed since she'd come to New Mexico. She watched her real mother be laid to rest and the woman who'd raised her had become a distant stranger. And then there was Jake.
The man she'd fallen in love with. Would he want to be a part of her scattered life?

Her mind was replaying last night and how Jake had made love to her so tenderly and completely when Gwyn's voice abruptly sounded behind her.

“Would you like to go up to my room to talk?”

For some reason Rebecca had no desire to closet herself in a private room with Gwyn. She already felt as though the woman had isolated her. As far as Rebecca was concerned, it was time for everything to be out in the open.

“Let's find a restaurant,” Rebecca suggested. “I need a cup of coffee.”

Thankfully, there was an eating place connected to the hotel and after a short walk, they seated themselves in a booth looking out a wide plate-glass window. After the waitress left to fetch their drinks, Gwyn stared out the window.

“I wonder what Gertrude saw in this place,” she mused aloud. “I admit it has a quaint charm, but it's so Western.”

And Gwyn was so big-city, Rebecca thought. She loved the hustle and bustle, the shops, the arts and social life attached to them. On the other hand, from what Rebecca could gather from her home place, Gertrude had been just the opposite. A quiet loner who was content to live with her animals.

“Do you know why she chose to live here?” Rebecca asked.

Gwyn's gaze remained on the window. “No idea. In fact, after we parted ways, I never knew where she'd gone to. I didn't want to know,” she added bitterly.

As the two of them had walked to the restaurant, Rebecca kept reminding herself to keep an open mind and
not allow her temper to rise to the angry point. After all, she didn't yet know what had gone on between the twin sisters. So now she quietly studied Gwyn's stiff expression and wondered how the woman could've turned her back on her sister and deceived her own child.

“Why?”

Gwyn turned her gaze on Rebecca and this time she could see dark shadows of pure hatred in their depths. The sight shocked Rebecca and made her realize there were sides to this woman that she could have never imagined.

“Do we really have to get into all of this, Rebecca? Isn't it enough to know that she was your biological mother? The rest is…unimportant.”

Unimportant? Rebecca wanted to scream. Before Jake had shown up at her door yesterday evening, she'd read all the letters that had been stashed in the jewelry box and they'd given her bittersweet glimpses to her parents' relationship. The words her father had written to Gertrude were full of anguish, love, sorrow and regret. His life had been torn between two women and a child. How could Gwyn have the gall to say none of it was important?

“I'm not a child, Mother. And don't insult my intelligence. I didn't come here to meet with you just so you could hem and haw. If you don't want to give me the truth, I'll be on my way.”

Gwyn's nostrils flared with anger, but any retort she might have said at that moment was interrupted by the waitress returning to their table. After the woman had served them and gone on her way, Rebecca stirred cream into her coffee and waited with patience that was wearing thinner and thinner with each passing moment.

“If you walk away now, Rebecca,” Gwyn finally said, “you'll never know the truth.”

She made it sound almost like a threat, as though she wouldn't think twice about withholding the answers that Rebecca so desperately needed. The realization stunned her. Gwyn had always been a temperamental person and spoiled by having her own way, but Rebecca had never seen this sort of cruelty in the woman.

“That's where you're wrong. I have Daddy's letters. They explain a lot.”

Gwyn had ordered iced tea. Now, after a long sip, she plopped the glass down with a loud thud and quickly reached for the sugar shaker. “Damn people! Don't have the slightest idea of how to serve sweet tea!” She dumped a small mountain of white granules into the drink and as she absently stirred the tea, she turned an unseeing gaze toward the window. “Oh, yes,” she said bitterly. “Those letters you found. I wasn't expecting you to stumble across anything like…that.”

“Why not? You knew I was staying in Gertrude's house. Surely you figured I would run across them at some point.”

Gwyn's head jerked around and Rebecca could see her face was now mottled with red splotches. “I didn't— I never knew Vance had been corresponding with Gertrude. I didn't know my husband had been speaking to the woman in any form or fashion!”

Oh, God, this was worse than anything Rebecca had anticipated. She wanted answers, but unlike Gwyn, she wasn't a hurtful person. She didn't want to cause her mother more pain than she was already going through. But neither could she avoid the truth. “You never suspected that he was harboring feelings for Gertrude?”

Gwyn's gaze dropped shamefully to the tabletop.
“No,” she said hoarsely. “I thought all of that was over—after—”

When she didn't go on, Rebecca pressed her. “After what? After I was conceived? For both of our sakes, I think you need to go back to the beginning, Mother.”

With a long weary sigh, she lifted her head and looked straight at Rebecca. By now her face had gone very pale, making her red lipstick stand out garishly against her white skin.

“All right. From the beginning my sister and I were always very different people. Even our looks were nothing alike. Gertrude was tall and blonde while I was dark and petite.”

“Was she pretty?”

Gwyn shrugged one shoulder, an expression she'd always reprimanded Rebecca for using. “I suppose you could've called her pretty. She was the outdoorsy, girl-next-door type. And so quiet and reserved that I often wanted to scream at her. Yet as children we—well, we loved each other and were actually quite close.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, we were. Even though we did have our differences at times. As teenagers I was always pushing her to be more outgoing. I wanted her to have dates and fun—I wanted her to be someone I could be proud of. Instead, she chose to be a bookworm and for the most part shunned any advances the boys made toward her. She said they made her uncomfortable and that she would have a relationship whenever it felt right and not before. At that time neither one of us had met Vance. That didn't come until much later when we were in our twenties and our parents—your grandparents—had already passed on.”

“You told me that you met Daddy at a dinner party. Is that where Gertrude met him, too?”

Gwyn grimaced. “Yes. At the time I thought she hardly noticed him. But that could have been because I was too busy trying to catch his eye,” she added thoughtfully. “Anyway, after that we began to date. When he asked me to marry him, I was over the moon. Your father was killer handsome and though he wasn't rich by any means, he was a man with prospects and all of that put together made him one of the most eligible bachelors in our social circle. After he proposed, I immediately began to plan a big wedding and with Mother already gone, I needed Gertrude to help me with the details.”

“And did she?”

Gwyn's expression turned hard. “Oh, yes. She even seemed happy for me. Little did I know that she had her eyes set on my fiancé.”

“When did you find out about the two of them?”

“Not until a couple of months after Vance and I were married. Gertrude came to me and told me that she was carrying Vance's child and that their…indiscretion had happened before the wedding. She'd planned to keep their tryst a secret, but that the pregnancy forced her to come out with the truth. I was completely devastated. I'd been betrayed by both my husband and my sister.”

Rebecca clutched the coffee cup as she watched pain slip across Gwyn's face. “I understand this isn't easy for you to say. It's not particularly easy for me to hear. And I realize that you were wronged. Terribly so. But that hardly justified you living a lie.”

Gwyn's mouth fell open. “A lie? Why, what do you mean? I'm not the one who cheated!”

“You cheated me out of knowing my own mother. As far as I'm concerned you cheated in the worst kind
of way. What I can't understand is why Gertrude and my father allowed it.”

Her eyes lit with vengeful fire, Gwyn leaned forward. “They allowed it because I held the cards, that's why! She was nothing but a backstabbing slut and I was ready to smear her reputation into the dirt. She'd always gone around acting so meek and mild and holier-than-thou when all along she was a nothing, a nobody! I was the social flower, not her! And I damned sure wasn't going to let our friends and acquaintances learn what she and Vance had done to me!”

Revenge. Nothing good could ever come from it. But apparently Gwyn had yet to realize that lesson.

“How were you going to smear her reputation without dragging Daddy into it?”

“I wasn't above making up a sordid story about her. That wouldn't have been nearly as bad as what she'd actually done to me. So when I threatened, she caved. And believe me, it didn't take much threatening. Gertrude was the type who always did have too much conscience. She felt as guilty as hell and wanted to make it up to me. And most of all, she wanted what was best for her baby. She didn't want you raised up under a cloud of nasty gossip and illegitimacy. So I immediately spread the news that I was pregnant and then a few weeks later, I made up a cock-and-bull story that Gertrude and I had a widowed aunt in California who had taken ill and we were going out to care for her until she could get back on her feet. The two of us did go to California, a little town on the southern coast where no acquaintances would likely run into us. Once you were born, I came back with you as a new mother. Gertrude went her own way and I never spoke to her after that.”

“And Daddy? What did he have to say about all this?
About getting Gertrude pregnant? About this plan of yours?”

“He was contrite, of course. He assured me that he'd only made love to Gertrude one time and that it hadn't meant anything. He'd just had a last-minute panic about losing his bachelorhood and Gertrude had been handy and willing. He wanted to raise his child and once Gertrude agreed to turn the baby over to me, he had to stick by my side. He didn't have any other choice. And in the long run, I don't think he wanted anyone to think badly of Gertrude. He didn't want her hurt in that way. And he didn't want you to be raised up under a shroud of ugly gossip, either.”

It was all Rebecca could do to keep from rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. The more Gwyn talked the more psychotic she sounded. “And why do you think that was, Mother? If it was just a physical thing between them, why would he care if Gertrude was hurt? Do you think it might have been because he loved her?”

The anger on Gwyn's face suddenly disappeared and in its place came a look of weary defeat. “For years I never believed Vance had ever cared for Gertrude. I believed his heart was truly mine. But I didn't know about the letters—that he'd stayed in contact with her until he died. Now I can only think that they probably continued to see each other—until Vance was killed.”

Bitter nausea swam in the pit of Rebecca's stomach. So many people had lied and loved and lost. “I was an innocent baby and you used me as a pawn—to get what you wanted. You didn't care that you took me away from my mother or that I might have needed her. You didn't even care about me, did you?”

If possible, Gwyn's face turned even paler. She took a nervous gulp of tea and answered in a flat voice, “All
right, you asked for honesty so I'm going to give it to you. In the beginning I didn't want you. Each time I looked at you it killed me. You were a constant reminder of my husband's infidelity, my sister's betrayal. But then—” Her eyes suddenly filled with tears as she reached an imploring hand toward Rebecca. “You were such a lovely baby and after a while I couldn't help but fall in love with you. And then it was easy for me to pretend that none of it had ever happened. That I had actually given birth to you.”

Rebecca didn't allow Gwyn to clasp her hand. There was too much hurt and confusion going on inside Rebecca to summon up any tender emotions for this woman who'd turned a bad choice into a lifelong nightmare. “Why did you never speak to Gertrude again? Why couldn't you find it in your heart to attend her funeral?”

Gwyn was dumbfounded. “Rebecca! Do you actually have to ask those questions? The woman wronged me!”

“And what did you do to her? Extorted her child from her! Hid the identity of my real mother from me! That's not a little wrong, that's a massive one.”

Refusing to acknowledge her own faults, Gwyn said through clenched teeth, “Sister or not, I could never forgive her. And I don't know how you could possibly pitch a defense for the woman!”

Sadness fell like a heavy cloak around Rebecca's shoulders and filled her heart with silent tears. “Yes, she made a bad mistake. But you retaliated and made even more. The way I see it, if a person doesn't have the capacity to forgive then they hardly have the ability to love.”