The Color of Secrets (39 page)

The light was fading, but she was too wrapped up in what he was telling her to think of switching on the lights.

“I was thirty-two when I left the army. I realized it was about time I settled down. Didn’t have much idea what I was gonna do, so I went back to New Orleans. Ended up waiting tables in a restaurant downtown. It wasn’t long after that I hooked up with Cora-Mae.” He shrugged. “Got hitched too quick. She wanted kids right away; I didn’t.” A frown creased his forehead. “Never felt I had a right to. It tore me apart, thinking I’d done just what my daddy did to me.”

Louisa nodded slowly. “Michael’s mum told me that you and Martha had lost contact with your dad.”

“I was three years old when he walked out on us. Martha was no more than a baby. Never set eyes on him again. I don’t even know if he’s dead or alive.”

She saw the haunted expression in his eyes and wondered if he had dreamed of his father the way she had dreamed of him.

“It hurt real bad, growing up with no daddy.” He tapped his chest. “I never would let on, though. Kept it all inside. But all the time Cora-Mae was talking about babies, I felt like yelling at her. In the end I told her about you. I said, ‘Look, Cora-Mae, somewhere, on some street thousands of miles away, a little piece of me is walking around. A little girl who wouldn’t know me if she passed right by me. How can I go having another one till I’ve found the one I already have?’” He shook his head. “It got so she was sick of hearing it. We used to fight all the time.” A wry smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “Sure seems strange that it’s her I have to thank for you finding me!”

Louisa smiled back. “She’s a grandmother now—did you know?”

“Is she?” He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I’m glad. She deserved better.”

Louisa watched his eyes cloud over again.
Why did he have such a low opinion of himself? Surely it wasn’t all due to being an absent father?

“What happened when you got to Detroit?” she asked.

He huffed out a laugh. “Not much, first off. Me and Martha thought we were headed for the promised land. I was sick of the way black folks were treated in the South. I suppose traveling like I did with the army made me realize I didn’t have to put up with that kind of stuff—that not everyone had us down as the scum of the earth.” He paused, examining the veins on the backs of his hands. “It didn’t make much difference when we arrived, though. Still couldn’t get anything better than waiting tables. But at least I was serving black folks alongside the whites.” He looked at her, his eyes twinkling. “Sounds crazy, I know, but I used to do this little act, where me and one of the waitresses would break into a dance routine in between serving the food. And one night this black guy—real flash—comes in the restaurant and calls me over. Says he manages a band and needs someone to teach them how to move. Turns out to be Berry Gordy—you heard of him?”

“
The
Berry Gordy?” Louisa gasped. “From Tamla-Motown?”

“Uh-huh.” Bill smiled, but his eyes had lost their shine. “It was nineteen fifty-nine, and he was just starting out. It was great for me—he was always signing new acts, mostly young kids straight off the streets. I was one of a bunch of people working out the routines, teaching them how to dress, how to hold themselves, that kind of thing.”

Louisa’s eyes widened. “So you must have known loads of really famous people?”

“Yeah, I did meet a few.” He dropped his eyes, studying the backs of his hands again.

“Come on—tell me!”

“Well, there was the Four Tops—I knew them pretty well, the Supremes, and Smokey Robinson
. . .
” He shrugged.

“Wow! You must have had an amazing time!”

“Well, yes, I guess so.” The tone of his voice suggested otherwise. “The problem was it all went to my head. It was the kind of job where girls would be coming on to me all the time—not because they saw me as anything special, you understand: they thought I could get them a break.” He let out a breath. “It was pretty hard to resist. I’m sure not proud of how I was back then. And the whole thing just backfired on me, which served me right.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I was getting invited to all these parties and one of the girls I met turned me onto drugs. I started smoking pot, then a couple weeks later I got into cocaine.”

She stared at him, fumbling for the right words. “Is that what you meant when you said your life had been bad?”

He nodded. “I lost everything, Lou. Lost my job at Hitsville, lost my apartment. Martha tried to help me, but I froze her out. By the end of sixty-five I was sleeping on the streets. I got a job washing dishes, but soon as I got paid, I’d be after my next fix. Only food I had was leftovers from the kitchen.” He gave her a crooked smile. “You think I look rough now, you should have seen me back then!”

“But you kicked the drugs?”

“Only because I was forced to. I got caught trying to steal a pair of shoes from Walmart. They put me in a rehab program, and while I was there I
. . .
” He hesitated, shaking his head. “I suppose you could call it a vision.” His eyes flickered from side to side as he stared at the wall. “I don’t know if it was withdrawal from the drugs or what, but I saw this evil-looking man with flames licking around him right there on the grass in front of me. And then I heard a voice.
You have a choice, Bill. Me or the devil.
That’s what I heard.”

Louisa didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t been to church since she was ten years old. She glanced at him awkwardly. “Is that why
. . .
you became a minister?”

He nodded. “It probably sounds strange to you—it does to most folks—but to me it was very real. And powerful. I’d tried so many times before to kick the drugs—I’d been living on the streets close on five years—but when I woke up the next morning, that crazy urge had gone away.”

“So how long have you been working at the hospital?”

“Coming up on four years.”

She looked at him, wondering how best to say what she was dying to know. “And since you
. . .
got back on your feet, you haven’t
. . .
you know,
met
anyone?”

“No ma’am!” He smiled. “I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs, and I don’t
. . .
” He arched his eyebrows.

“Oh!” She looked at her feet, embarrassed at what she’d made him almost say.

“Reckon I’m bad news, far as ladies go.” He grunted a laugh. “I got a dog for company now. He ain’t complained about me yet!”

Louisa laughed. But the inward delight she took in his resolution to stay single made her feel guilty. “Do you really think you’ll never meet anyone else?”

“I doubt it.” His eyes took on a wistful look. She wondered if he was thinking of her mother.
Was that the real reason he would never marry again?

“There’s something I have to ask you,” she began. “Do you still have feelings for . . .” She paused, unable to say it.

“For your mama?” He drew his lips into a tight circle. “I thought that was coming.” He blew out a breath. “It’s been so many years, but yes, I still have wonderful memories of the time we spent together. Truth is I never met a woman like her, before or since.”

Louisa’s stomach lurched. This was what she’d been dreading. “It means a lot to me that you cared so much for her,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. “The trouble is, though, I don’t think she can bear the idea of seeing you again.”

There was a moment of silence. Then he said, “Well, I guess I can understand that. Sure is a pity, though. I would have liked to see her again.” He looked straight at her, catching the fear in her eyes. “For old times’ sake, you understand. Nothing more. I would have liked to meet your other dad too. I’d like the chance to shake him by the hand, tell him what a good job he did, raising you.”

Louisa blinked back tears, wondering how Eddie would react to that. She had told him Bill was coming, reassuring him that he would be kept well away from the farm. She hadn’t known what to do about telling her mother. She knew it would be unfair to expect Tom and Rhiannon to keep quiet about it. In the end Eddie had offered to tell Eva after she and Michael had left for the airport.

Louisa bit her lip. It was almost as if Eddie was on Bill’s side. How could he be so understanding? She wondered if he had any idea that David’s death had been directly linked to Bill’s actions, wondered if her mother had ever told him the real reason for her visit to Aberystwyth that fateful day.

As if he’d read her mind, Bill took her hand in his. “I don’t expect him to want to see me any more than your mother does. But I’d be grateful if you could pass on what I just said.”

She nodded. “You don’t mind me not calling you Dad, do you? It’s just that it takes a bit of getting used to
. . .
”

“Of course I don’t!”

“My
. . .
my other dad, well, he’s never blamed you for what happened. But Mam
. . .
” she trailed off with a shrug.

“I guess she hasn’t forgiven me for messing up her life?”

Louisa shook her head. “But it’s not what you think. She doesn’t blame you for me being born, anyway. It’s what happened afterwards that really turned her against you.”

“Afterwards?”

She watched his face crumple as she pieced the story together. “Cathy said it was the first time Mam had heard from you since before the war ended,” she explained. “She was all wound up because she’d been trying to make a go of things with my dad—but she was still in love with you, I think. Cathy said Mam was hoping you were going to be posted to Britain. She said it was the only way you and she could be together, because my dad would never have let her take David to the States.”

He blinked, grief etched in the lines around his eyes.

“I’m so sorry I had to tell you.” She pulled her lips in over her teeth. “I had to make you understand why she’s so against you. I think that when David died, she wanted to
. . .
just wipe you out of her memory.” She swallowed, her eyes pooling. “She told me she couldn’t even remember your name.”

Both of them were crying now. Bill wrapped his arms around her, and they clung together in the dark.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered. “But do you see why I have to keep you away from her?”

She felt him nod his head. “Don’t you worry,” he murmured. “I’ll stay away.”

Chapter 42

Michael and the children arrived in time for breakfast the next morning. Rhiannon said she’d been awake since five o’clock, too excited to go back to sleep.

“Will you come and see me at the Eisteddfod, Granddad?” she said, taking Bill’s hand and dancing him around the kitchen.

“The
what
?” Bill gave her a puzzled grin and turned to Louisa.

“It’s an arts festival we have in Wales,” she said, casting a worried glance at Michael. “She’s got through to the county finals.”

“I’m singing a song in Welsh and doing a solo dance routine,” Rhiannon beamed. “You’ll still be here next Saturday, won’t you?” She had no idea, of course, of the implications of this invitation.

Bill and Louisa exchanged glances. “Well, I’d love to come and see you, honey.” He smiled. “But I’m not sure Americans are allowed. We’ll have to get your mama to ask. Tell you what, though.” He picked her up by the waist and twirled her around. “I’d like to see you practice—could we use the studio, Michael?”

They all filed across to the barn.

“What’s she dancing to?” Bill asked.

“It’s an instrumental track,” Michael replied. “We had a heck of a job finding something. They have very strict rules: no English lyrics allowed, only Welsh. It’s a Cozy Powell number. You heard of him?”

“Not ‘Dance with the Devil’?” Bill’s eyes clouded.

“That’s the one.” Michael smiled. “It’s all drums—very fast!”

“What is it, Dad?” Louisa bit her lip as she realized what she’d called him.

He looked up and smiled. “Oh, nothing serious.” He shook his head slowly. “I remember, first time I heard that number, it reminded me of something me and your mama used to dance to: ‘Drum Boogie,’
it was called. We used to jitterbug to it in the airraid shelter.”

“What’s a jitterbug, Granddad?” Rhiannon piped up. “Will you show me?”

“Sure I will, honey.” He smiled at the child through a film of tears.

“Are you crying, Granddad?”

“Aw, no—it’s just these old worn-out eyes of mine
. . .
” He took her hands in his. “You ready?”

Rhiannon squealed with delight as he twirled her around and flipped her over his head.

“What are we going to do?” Louisa whispered to Michael as Bill and Rhiannon careered around the studio. “We can’t let him
and
Mam and Dad go.”

“I know.” Michael nodded. “It seems mean, though, keeping him away. It means so much to him that she’s inherited his talent. When’s he going to get another chance to see her perform in public?”

Louisa frowned. “You’re right—but how do I explain that to them? They’re proud of her too—and they’re so much looking forward to it.”

“Don’t you think this might be a good opportunity to try and get your mother to bury the hatchet?”

She sighed. If only it was that simple.

At lunchtime Louisa went back to the farm with the children while Michael took Bill to the local pub.

Eddie was busy milking when she found him.

“How did Mam take it?” she asked, as they sat down together on an old wooden bench in the cowshed.

Eddie shrugged. “She said she’d been expecting it. Said she was surprised he hadn’t come sooner.”

“What?” Louisa gasped. “Didn’t she have any idea how hard it was, trying to find him? It’s certainly no thanks to her that we did!”

“Try not to be too hard on her, Lou. She says things she doesn’t mean when she’s had a shock—you know that.”

Louisa nodded. “I’m sorry—it’s just been so stressful, the last few days—and now Rhiannon’s gone and invited him to the Eisteddfod and I don’t know what to do!” She caught her breath, close to tears.

Eddie patted her arm, rubbing his forehead with his other hand. “Well, it’s only natural that he’d want to go.
I
don’t mind him being there, but as for your mother
. . .
”

“Oh Dad!” She hugged him. “How can you be so
. . .
” She struggled for the right word. Unselfish? Kind? Forgiving? He was all those things. Things that had made her wish a hundred times that she was
his
child, not her mother’s. “I
. . .
I don’t know how to say this,” she faltered.

“What?”

“Aren’t you afraid that if she
. . .
you know?” Her words hung in the air like the motes of dust floating in the afternoon sunshine.

Eddie stared at the rough floor of the cowshed, rolling a piece of straw with the sole of his shoe. “Not really.” His voice was quiet but steady. “It was a long time ago, Lou. People change.”

Yes,
she thought,
they do.
Her mother had been just twenty-one when she met Bill. Louisa shuddered at the memory of herself at that age. What had changed her? Time—and the love of a good man. Was it the same for her mother? Eddie had been there for Eva through all the grief and the good times the past thirty years had brought. And Bill had not. In that moment something occurred to Louisa. That it would have been so much easier for Bill to find her mother than for her to find him.

If he had wanted to.

He knew her surname, the place she had once worked. Yes, he had searched the streets of Eva’s old neighborhood. But he had told her it was her, Louisa, he was hoping to find. Perhaps he had never truly loved Eva the way she had loved him—and deep down, her mother knew it.

She looked at Eddie’s profile, lit up by the sun slanting through the window. “What would you do if you were me?”

He drew in a breath. “I’d go and see your mother. Tell her what you’ve just told me: that it’s Rhiannon who’s asked him. Maybe that’ll make a difference.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then it’s up to you. She’s your daughter—you’re the one who has to decide who goes.”

Louisa chewed over Eddie’s words as she made her way to the bungalow. What if her mother refused point-blank to be in the same room as Bill, which she almost certainly would? What if Eddie decided to go alone? Would it be fair to let the two men meet? To let Eddie shake hands with Bill, not knowing the awful secret of David’s death? Should she tell Eddie like she’d told Bill? Could it possibly be right to rake up all that misery again? Eddie didn’t deserve that. Better to let sleeping dogs lie.

Eva was in the kitchen making a sponge cake. She looked up, a sieve full of flour frozen in midair. Her eyes said it all. Reproachful, disappointed, and
. . .
scared.
Yes,
Louisa thought,
there was real fear in her eyes
.
Had she expected her daughter to come waltzing into the house with her long-lost lover in tow?

“Mam?”

The sieve clattered noisily onto the mixing bowl. “You’ve not brought him, then?”

“No! Of course I haven’t!” Louisa was fighting to stay calm. “I promised I wouldn’t, didn’t I?”

Eva set her lips in a thin line. “How is he?” The question was addressed to the table.

“Okay.” Louisa took a breath. “He’s not had an easy life, but he’s picked himself up. He’s gone into the church.”

“Oh.” Eva traced a river in the powdering of flour that had escaped the sides of the bowl. “The church.” She sounded like an echo.

“I told him you didn’t want to see him—but Rhiannon wants him to go to the Eisteddfod.” She paused. Her mother’s finger was still moving through the flour. “Did you hear what I said, Mum?”

“Yes, I heard.” Eva’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Let him go, then. There’ll be other chances for us to see her. She’s such a bright little thing—she’s bound to win more competitions.”

“Oh Mam!” Louisa didn’t know whether to hug her or shout at her. “But you were so looking forward to it!”

“I know.” Still Eva didn’t look up. “But like I said, there’ll be other times.” There was a puff of white as a tear dropped onto the table.

Louisa stepped across the floor. She lifted her hand. It hovered in midair. Why was it so hard to touch her? “You don’t have to stay away, Mam. I was hoping
. . .
for Rhiannon’s sake—”

“No!” her mother cut in. “Please don’t ask me. You know I
. . .
” she faltered, “I can never
. . .
”

“Forgive him?” Louisa’s hand found her mother’s shoulder. “I know, Mam. I know what happened with David, and I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do. But it wasn’t Bill’s fault—not really, was it? Why can’t you let it go?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Eva whimpered.

“Like what?”

“Like my mother!” Eva’s lower lip began to tremble. “When she
. . .
”

“When she what?”

“She was right.” Tears coursed down Eva’s face as she stared past Louisa, her head nodding, then shaking in denial. “We never should have
. . .
and God punished me for it.”

Louisa took her mother by both shoulders, bending at the knees so that her eyes were level with Eva’s. “Listen to me, Mam! Bill believes in God, but I don’t think even
he
would buy anything as cruel as that!” Her voice seemed to ricochet around the tiny kitchen. Her mother burrowed in her pocket, her hand leaving floury trails on the fabric of her dress. She lifted a handkerchief to her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mam, I didn’t mean to shout.” Louisa tried to regulate her voice, but she felt like screaming. Didn’t her mother realize how it made
her
feel, going on about Bill like that?
As if she wished I’d never been born,
she thought bitterly.

She glanced at her mother’s tear-streaked face. “Maybe it’s not Bill,” she said slowly. “Maybe it’s yourself you need to forgive.”

The day before the Eisteddfod Louisa saw Tom off to school and set to work on Rhiannon’s costume. She had a boxful of sequins to sew onto the pale-pink leotard, and she knew it was going to take her most of the morning. Rhiannon had been given the day off school to practice and was already in the studio perfecting her moves with Bill.

As Louisa threaded the silver disks onto the needle and jabbed it into the fabric, she thought about her mother, wondering what really lay behind the brick wall she had built in her mind to keep Bill out. Was there more to it than just guilt? Was she afraid that if she saw even a photograph, it would bring all the old feelings flooding back? Eddie had seemed confident that it was all in the past, but how could he be so sure?

Louisa held up the costume to the light. This time tomorrow Rhiannon would be dancing in it. She tried to imagine how it would be if her mother, Eddie, and Bill were all there to watch. Despite Eva’s words, Louisa couldn’t stop hoping it might happen. She realized it was something she longed for above anything else. It was as if one final piece of the jigsaw was still missing. Her mother’s refusal to have anything to do with Bill was almost physically painful to her. The more she thought about it, the more it felt like a denial of her very existence.

Michael pushed open the door and set a mug of tea down in front of her. “Rhiannon’s going to look fantastic in that.” He rubbed her shoulders. “Have you told her about your parents?”

“No, not yet.” Louisa pursed her lips. “Dad said the best thing would be if we tell her afterwards. Say Nan’s had one of her turns, and they couldn’t get there. He thought it might upset her if she knew they weren’t going.”