Southern Seduction (67 page)

We spent the next half-hour talking, laughing. Even my dad was being cool, asking me all kinds of photography questions and actually listening with rapt attention to my answers.

During a bout of laughter from one of Brayden’s ‘water cooler’ stories (mostly dad was laughing while Uncle Ollie bumped my shoulder and rolled his eyes), Margo came to let us know dinner was ready. Soy glazed salmon, rice pilaf and kale salad. I sat down next to Uncle Ollie, Brayden sat across from us, dad sat at the head. Halfway through dinner Gram showed up.
Uncle Ollie stood up, “Good to see you Shirley.”

“You too Oliver.” Then they hugged. As they embraced, tears welled in her eyes and a knot formed in my stomach. Would she give him the box right now?

Gram took the empty seat at the end of the table on Uncle Ollie’s side. Margo hurried in, carrying a tray. “Thanks,” Gram said when it was before her, “looks delicious.”

Margo nodded and left.

“I take it Denton was a bust since you said you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow,” dad said.

“Your aunt Dawn never stops talking and there was only so many of her cat stories I could listen to before I had to get out of there, so I gave her Dexter and booked it. Need normal people. I tell you, ever since your Uncle Henry died she just ain’t the same.”

After Gram’s declaration everyone fell silent as they ate. I stared around at the chewing faces. My mind shifted back to that amazing kiss with JR. Did he like me? Because I definitely liked him. Would love a repeat of earlier. Only the next time I wouldn’t like him to stop and jump off the bed like his pants were on fire. Maybe he was apprehensive because of my dad? Obviously, my dad had a problem with him since he warned me to stay away. Dad was a lot of things but he’d never come across as a snob. Greedy? Sure. But snobby? I just don’t think so.

As if reading my mind, or maybe my face since my cheeks were on fire, Brayden turned to dad and said, “JR really find Maddie?”

“Yep, found her passed out near the edge of the property and brought her home. Dr. Baese checked on her after.”

Why was he asking dad and not me? And why did he ask in such a I-can’t-even-believe-it tone?

I turned to look at Brayden, “Yes JR found me I owe him one.”

“What,” Gram said, her eagle-like stare on me “why somebody need to be finding you?”

“Wel—”

Didn’t even get a full word out and Brayden interrupted. He turned to Gram, “She decided heading out to the trails without someone was a good idea. Had herself a run-in with some fire ants.”

“Fire ants is vicious,” Gram was pointing her fork in the air at me, “Maddie dear, what were you thinking hiking by yourself? What if you’d encountered a somebody with bad intentions?”

“Ignore her pumpkin, the trails are regularly patrolled,” dad said. He swished his whiskey clinking ice against glass.

“Claude Benjamin Scott, do not fill her head with fluff, the real world ain’t made of fluff, it’s made of dirty intentions that can kill.”

“Gram, I’m fine, a bit itchy but believe me I learned my lesson.”

“Your mom had an allergy to ants if I remember right,” Uncle Ollie said, then took a bite of salmon.

I wanted to steer the conversation back to the important point. “So what’s the beef with JR? Why do you,” …
tact Maddie tact
… “dislike him dad?” Please don’t say it’s because he’s a ranch hand.

Dad dropped his silverware, they clanged on his plate. He took a drink before sighing back into his chair, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he found you and had the good sense to bring you home and call me, but it doesn’t make me any fonder of the Rutherfords. They play dirty and do everything underhanded.”

“I don’t follow, what do the Rutherfords have to do with JR our stable hand?”

Brayden spit his drink out—some of his vodka laden spittle landed on my hand—he laughed so hard. Dad was laughing too, though he kept his drink in his mouth. Once they’d both stopped laughing Brayden said, “A Rutherford a stable hand? Never. JR was simply here to oversee his father’s stud while he mated with Thunder. You know, Thunder has won her share of derby trophies. Anyway Tom and I thought it a good idea to mate his best stud with her. Hoping Thunder will bare us at least one derby winner.”

JR was a Rutherford. Did that mean something to me? To him? Was that the reason for his hesitation with me? Oh my … I was overanalyzing. Everyone had gone back to eating and drinking, meaning no one noticed me blushing.

Shouldn’t be thinking or worrying about JR anyway, right? I mean I was leaving in two weeks to go home wasn’t I? Yes I was, so there was no need to think about his amazing lips, or the feel of him pressed against me and how tantalizingly close those long fingers of his got to my …

It was then, while my mind was picturing how big little JR was (my mouth was salivating over said image)and attempting to chew and not bite my tongue that Gram did it.

Gram put her fork down, cleared her throat and put her hand on Uncle Ollie’s wrist. Oh god it was coming, wasn’t it?

“When you’re done we need to talk. Charlene left you something in her will.”

Not only did I choke on my salad but Uncle Ollie’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. So much for finishing dinner. I dropped my silverware and took a drink of water. My stomach clenched as I tapped my foot on the ground.
Not now
. Not when we were having such a nice dinner—for the most part.

“Really?” Uncle Ollie choked out, “she left something for me? What is it?”

“Don’t know, she left it for your eyes only.”

“Oh.”

By this point both dad and Brayden had stopped eating as well, though they didn’t look nearly as uncomfortable as me.

“Yeah, didn’t know if you wanted to do it here or in private.”

“Let’s do it here, we’re family,” Uncle Ollie answered, patting my knee. Then, without a word, he took my hand. He was shaking like a leaf.

What the hell happened between him and my mom? I’d expected a cold shoulder when I saw him. Figured whatever kept him from us for the last year, and from my mom’s funeral, would also make him act like a major prick and not the same old Uncle Ollie. Even if it was a souped up, preppy Uncle Ollie.

“Well, all right. Claude honey, can you get Margo for me?”

“Of course mom.” Dad got up and walked over to the intercom near the dining room door. “Margo can you bring in the box.”

Dad knew too. Great.

“Yes sir,” Margo’s static voice answered back.

A few minutes later Margo was hurrying into the dining room carrying that awful plain brown box. She set it before Uncle Ollie and without having to be told, hurried from the room. Everyone stared at the box, silent. Uncle Ollie, still gripping my hand tight, took a deep breath and then let go. “Like a band-aid right?”

Now my hands were shaking and my legs wouldn’t stop tapping their mad cadence. After a deep breath, very slowly, with unsteady hands, Uncle Ollie peeled off the tape.

Another deep breath.

He flipped back the flaps. Two more deep breaths before he pulled the box toward him so he could see inside.

His breath hitched. He let out a small laugh. I wanted to peek over his shoulder and see what was inside but couldn’t find the nerve to. It seemed Brayden had the same desire but also maintained his self-restraint. No shock there. Gram was stuffing salmon into her mouth. Who could eat at a time like this? And my dad was … he wasn’t in his chair.

Where had he … Oh there he was at the bar making a drink. Making four drinks. Dad finished and came back to the table putting a drink in front of Uncle Ollie, one in front of Brayden and then took his seat. Quietly, he pushed the third glass over to me. I looked at the glass then at him. He grabbed my wrist and gave it a squeeze. Gave a somber smile and a wink before turning his attention to his own drink.

When I peeked back at Uncle Ollie he was pulling out a pair of aviators in gold from the box. He set them delicately on the table. Sunglasses? That’s all that was in there? Then why did the box feel so heavy?

He went back to the box and pulled out an opal pendant shaped like a dove. An old worn out Chapstick followed, a red-haired wig, a box of matches, a lipstick, a leather clutch, diamond stud earrings, a set of bamboo heel wedges and lastly a note card.

Uncle Ollie sat back in his chair and started laughing and then started crying. I tried to comfort him but he pushed me away. “I know you want to know why me and your mom quit talking.”

Oh shit. We were totally doing this. Right here. Right now.

I nodded first, Brayden followed.

“Did your mom ever talk to you about it at all?”

“No. And then you never called, like you wrote us off too,” I squeaked out. My voice sound small and far away.

Uncle Ollie took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I should have called, but your mom asked me not to. Although that’s no excuse.”

“That’s ridiculous, why would mom ask you not to contact us?”

“She didn’t think having a homosexual near her kids was okay,” Uncle Ollie said and gave my wrist another squeeze.

First off me and Brayden weren’t kids (we could vote, smoke and in Brayden’s case, drink) and second mom wasn’t homophobic and if she was why did it concern … oh.
Ohhhhh
. My eyes went wide when I met Uncle Ollie’s gaze. “You’re gay?”

Uncle Ollie didn’t answer, simply nodded.

“But you—”

“Put on a very believable show, but I was tired of pretending and I figured if anyone would understand and accept it would be Charlene.”

I pulled my hand away and slammed back the drink dad had given me. My drinking had nothing to do with Uncle Ollie’s declaration of being gay but the fact my mother didn’t accept it.

Brayden tapped his glass with his fingers, drawing my attention to him. Did he … “Did you know this?”

Uncle Ollie answered for him, “Nobody, but your father knew what transpired between me and your mom. Your dad helped me through it. I’m sorry sweetie I missed you fiercely but I was so hurt and then …” his tears were a river now and his words came out between sobs, “… when Charlene died, well I … I was angry,” he wiped his tears with his napkin, “how dare her die before we could hash it out. Before I could tell her off, call her a narrow-minded fascist just like our father. She was always calling him that, swearing she’d never be like him. What a pot.”

“How could mom …” the words died in my throat.

“Oliver, I know she would have come around eventually,” dad said. He’d finished his drink and had the glass tipped on its side rolling it back and forth. “Charlene never looked in the mirror enough.”

I turned in my seat so I was facing Uncle Ollie, “You didn’t go to her funeral because she didn’t support you coming out of the closet?”

“She made it clear she didn’t want me around.”

“So what?” I couldn't control the volume of my voice, “What about us? We’re adults, not kids you could have talked to us. Whatever mom did or didn’t do doesn’t matter because she was gone and I needed you. Brayden needed you.
We
wanted you there.”

Uncle Ollie leaned forward in his chair, “You’re right. I have no excuse, I shouldn’t have let pride or anger keep me from comforting you. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

I nodded and he pulled me into his arms and we cried together. Brayden came around the table putting his arms around us both. Uncle Ollie looked up at him, “Do you forgive me?”

Brayden didn’t need words to say yes. He squeezed tighter, his tears mingling with ours. Dad and Gram stayed quiet on the sidelines waiting until we got it all out. When we pulled apart I dried my eyes with my napkin. “Dad why didn’t you say anything, I mean you knew?”

Brayden was looking at dad too. Dad shrugged. “You were closer to your mother than me and I didn’t want to sour her after the fact.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Gram started, “contrary to popular belief, she wasn’t perfect and sometimes we forget that.”

After that, the air was clear and we turned to happier memories of mom. Margo brought in dessert (cherry cheesecake) and while we ate, we each took turns telling stories about mom. Sad and funny stories, I tell you I’d never laughed through tears before.

I thought for sure mom would show up. Even if it was only to give me a smile or a thumb’s up, but she didn’t. Even later that night when I was alone in my room she didn’t come. I figured she was staying away out of embarrassment. She didn't want to have to explain why her brother being gay was, in her eyes, an understandable reason to cut ties. If I had known that’s why Uncle Ollie stopped talking to us, I would have talked sense into my mom and if I couldn’t, well, then I would have talked to Uncle Ollie and let him know I support him.

Maybe I should give up the hope of ever seeing her again. I curled up on my bed around a pillow. Today was seriously one of the most emotionally draining days ever, but I think the healing process could finally start. Mom wasn’t perfect, far from it, in fact. But she was my mom and I loved her. Missed her. I let go of the pillow and rolled onto my back to stare up at the ceiling. Crossed my arms and placed them beneath my head.

The house was silent. Uncle Ollie left right after we finished dessert with a promise he’d keep in touch. Gram retired to bed, saying hanging out with Aunt Dawn drained her, and dad went to his home office and shut the doors.