Promises to Keep (10 page)

Before her son or husband could jump in and say anything, Ruth finished it. “After what seemed like forever, I saw lights. A lot of them. I had reached the bottom of Thompkin Hill, though at the time of course I had no idea. I trudged up that long driveway, thinking it was another road, and then, as if I somehow knew salvation and safety was just ahead, I began to run again. By the time I’d reached the porch and was pounding on the door, my hysteria had returned with a vengeance. When your father opened the door, I fell into the foyer, and into his arms.”

She allowed herself one glance at Ronald as she spoke. There would be sympathy for her in his eyes, and she hated herself for seeking it. She wasn’t a broken, traumatized child any longer, and yet her confession reduced her to what she’d struggled for so many years to overcome.

He must have seen the price she paid for rehashing the entire ordeal, for Ronald wheeled to her side and reached for her hand. He stroked his thumb over her skin.

Without asking her, he chose to tell the rest. “Your mother was soaked to the skin, bruised and bloody, unable to speak of what had happened to her. I brought her upstairs, and Martha and your grandmother attended to her. She slept for almost twenty-four hours, and when she awoke, she was screaming from a nightmare, the first of many she’d have over the next year or so.

“We tried to get her to tell us what had happened to her, but it was almost two days before she could speak coherently. We tried to convince her to allow the family physician to examine her, but she cried so piteously that we let it go, afraid to terrify her any further. It was week or more before she said Franklin Turner’s name.” Ronald carried her hand to his lips as he spoke and kissed it gently, bringing fresh tears to her reddened eyes.

She watched the emotion, the shock and outrage, flit across her son’s expressive face, and knew what he was thinking. He’d try to rationalize, make excuses, based on what he thought was love for the Turner girl. Romantic, sensitive despite his level of intelligence, he remained a teenaged boy in the throes of first infatuation. She emitted a quiet sigh, and waited for his reaction.

With a jerk, Travis rose to his feet and paced the confines of the study, clearly in turmoil. “No wonder you’ve never wanted to leave the house.” He turned and faced her. “All this time you’ve been afraid, haven’t you? I used to think you just had some kind of agoraphobia.”

She nodded, embarrassment heating her cheeks. “By now, I’m sure I do. I’m certainly not proud of my weaknesses, but as your father said, I had horrible nightmares and found myself unable to leave the safety of Quincy Hall.” She shrugged. “In time, it didn’t seem to matter any longer. I stayed within these walls and cultivated a network of acquaintances who were content to visit me.” She offered a faint smile. “The rich and powerful are often regarded as eccentric, too. No one has ever questioned why I cloister myself.”

Travis shook his head. “I’m trying to sort through all of this. Turner is a common enough name even in small towns. How can you be so sure this Franklin Turner belonged to Annie’s family?”

Her lips parted to respond, but Ronald cut in. “Travis, I knew Henry Turner when we were both boys. Although I only saw Franklin Turner perhaps once in my life, I remember Henry speaking of his father. I remember when Franklin left his family destitute and his wife broken. He’d been a gambler all of his life. I sat on the bleachers at the ball field listening to Henry rant about his father. I think we were maybe thirteen or fourteen at the time. Franklin Turner took all of the money from the family’s savings account and skipped town one day. He didn’t leave them a single dime.”

Travis looked back and forth between them. Ruth could see the struggle on his face and her heart ached for him. Finally he protested, “I can’t believe it. I
know
these people. They’re hardworking, honest and good. Maybe Mr. Turner’s father left them and never came back, but it had to be a different Turner who did this to Mother. A monster like that couldn’t be related to Annie and her folks.” There was conviction in Travis’s voice, but beneath the conviction was the plea of a little boy who didn’t want to believe bad things existed in the world.

Ronald confirmed, “It’s the same family, son. Genetics sometimes don’t mean squat when it comes to family characteristics. Franklin Turner was a horrible human being and yet his son is kind and decent. You’ve heard for yourself the kind of woman your maternal grandmother was. It doesn’t always follow, does it?”

While Travis pondered his father’s words, his mother cleared her throat and brought his attention back to her. Tears still glittered in her eyes, but her expression held determination. He wanted to go to her and hold her, comfort her for all she’d endured while just a child herself. He wanted to cheer on her behalf, for the way she’d overcome the misfortune of her family, her heritage.

But her next words froze him in place. “Travis, this has been one of the most difficult days of my life, telling you what happened to me. I’d always prayed I wouldn’t have to, but you needed to be told. Knowing the full story, I’m confident you won’t be inclined to follow through with your rash and impulsive plans. As far as I’m concerned, we can let the matter drop, and get on with our lives.” She held out her hands to Travis, expecting him to rush to her side.

Shock immobilized him. Did she think he’d snuggle into her embrace and tell her he’d never see Annie again, all on the strength of what had happened to her at the hands of a man who was two generations apart from Annie?

She didn’t get it. Maybe he didn’t, either.

He chose his next words with care. “Did you go to the police? What about your mother and stepfather? Were they arrested for what they did to you? After all, they were trying to sell their own child, right?”

In spite of her calm front, Travis knew he’d offended her. However, her reply showed no hint of temper. “No, the police were never told. That was my fault. I had such a hard time speaking of it, as your father said. By the time I was able to mention names, he was no longer a threat to me. Willa, Greeley and my half-sisters had left town and I never saw them again. I never saw Nate Mason again, either. In that disgusting old man’s case, I suppose he received his just desserts for what he did. He died that same night.”

“What? You killed him?” Travis gasped, shocked.

Her lips curved briefly. “I will never know for sure if that hammer to his head did it, or not. To this day I couldn’t tell you how hard I swung it. Hard enough to knock him out, that’s all I can be sure of. When the police found Franklin Turner’s car in the ditch the next morning, he was dead inside it. An autopsy revealed he’d also suffered a massive heart attack. It was impossible for the pathologist to tell for sure if death had been caused by the blow to his head or from his heart attack, or possibly both.”

“Ruth, you know it wasn’t your fault—” His father broke in.

“No, I don’t.” She waved a hand in denial. “I will never know. I can only tell you I’m glad he’s dead, and if it was indeed my hand that killed him, then I’m proud of the courage it took for me to swing that hammer. For what he’d done to me, I doubt I’d have been labeled a murderer.”

Travis flinched at the ugly word. No one in his right mind would slap that label on someone who’d been through such a nightmare.

He still needed answers, though. “Did the police ever question you or Dad? Did you ever find out where your parents went?”

“I always assumed they went back to West Virginia. I ceased to care about them the night my stepfather tore me from my chair in that kitchen and thrust me into a nightmare. As for the police talking to me,” she paused, closed her eyes for a second, “they never knew of my ordeal. Your father never reported anything. Not that I’d been taken by Greeley Mason. Or given to Franklin Turner. I couldn’t have borne anyone else knowing what happened to me, Travis.”

“But your family, they must have been known in town. Thompkin isn’t that big. Your sisters, suddenly missing from school, wouldn’t that have raised suspicion?” He was persistent in his quest to understand everything.

Once again, his dad answered for her. “It’s surprising, but no. Folks like Willa and Greeley Mason, living on the edge of town in the lower rent areas, often slip through the cracks. The school system was resigned to those children skipping school. Many of the people in the trailer park were transients who would pick up and go at a moment’s notice. I assumed Willa and Greeley did the same thing. Believe me, I checked.”

His father sought to reassure both of them. “Trav, your mother wanted it to be over. I had a hard time letting it go, once she told me everything. But for her sake, I did just that.”

“And your sisters?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Half-sisters. They have Greeley Mason for a father. That dooms them, in my opinion.”

“And what about you, Mother? You were born poor, came from people who would sell their own kids to pay off a debt. Yet you found a way to rise above the circumstances of your old life, didn’t you? With a loving husband, a nurturing mother-in-law, you got past the bad and heaped on the good. It’s something to be proud of, wouldn’t you say?” Travis watched for his mother’s reaction.

“Yes. I am proud of what your father and I have accomplished. You are our greatest achievement.” She shifted on the sofa, confusion on her face. “Why else would I be so concerned for your well-being, your future?”

At the soft sound of distress his father made, Travis knew he understood where the questions were leading. He plowed ahead with determination. “Well then, Mother, wouldn’t you say Henry Turner has risen above his father’s rotten deeds, too? He has a good job. He has a loving wife and six well-behaved children. Two are working steady jobs and saving money for college. Their oldest son has been accepted into the officer training school the Air Force provides. People like and respect Henry Turner. Wouldn’t you say he, the same as you, found a way to move beyond the legacy of neglectful, abusive parents?”

It didn’t sink in at first. The meaning behind Travis’s observation seemed initially lost to her. She started to speak, paused, frowned. Then, one of her hands gripped the sofa armrest, hard. She bit off an expletive better suited to Willa Mason than the wife of Ronald Quincy, sprang to her feet, and stood, quivering.

“How dare you.” She bore down on Travis. “How
dare
you compare my life with
any
of those trashy Turners. You know nothing. You understand
nothing
. What I suffered, what I endured at the hands of that monstrous old man. To think my own flesh and blood would turn on me this way. To think you’d choose to believe the worst of me and the better of them!”

He knew her hurt ran deep. Yet, sometimes the only way to heal a wound was to cauterize it. Travis sighed in defeat. He sent his father a helpless shrug, and lifted his coat from the arm of his chair. Slowly, he pulled it on and zipped it up as he crossed to the side door.

With a deep, fortifying breath, Travis faced his mother. “I don’t believe the worst of you, Mother. I couldn’t. But I
do
believe better of Annie and her family. I can understand why you would do all you could to bury what happened to you.”

His eyes burned with emotion as he gazed at his mother’s ravaged face. “It breaks my heart to know you had to go through something so terrible. But it changes nothing for me, except to be thankful Henry Turner grew up normal, became a good husband and father. Someday soon, the Turners will be my in-laws. If you can’t accept it, then there’s nothing more to be said.” Tears slid down his cheeks as he whispered sadly, “I love you, Mother. Maybe one of these days we’ll be able to come to terms with all of this.” Turning away, he stepped into the foyer.

He was almost to the front door when his mother’s shout hit the dead silence between them. “If you walk out that door, Travis, you leave without the support of the Quincy family and its legacy. Do you understand? You’ll be cut off, penniless. You’ll have nothing. Do you hear me?
Nothing
!”

Travis walked through the front door and closed it behind him.