Authors: Sharon Sala
Anson arched an eyebrow and smiled.
****
Brendan Poe was a carbon copy of his father in looks, but that was where similarity ended. He hated the bastard in more ways than he could count, and he only came back to Wisteria Hill on a regular basis because of his mother and sister. He loved them with a passion and still wrestled with the guilt of moving out after he turned nineteen, knowing he was leaving them behind to his father’s mania.
When he turned off the main road and started down the driveway, the knot in his belly grew tighter. The first sight of the old Antebellum mansion was always one of unease. It would have been magnificent in its day, and although he’d been born in that house, he’d always been overwhelmed by the impending decay of both his family and the structure.
The mansion was in need of more than a coat or two of paint. One shutter from a front window was hanging by a hinge and another completely gone. The bottom step at the front of the verandah was also gone, which was why everyone used the kitchen door around back. Shingles were missing on the west eaves of the roof, and the grounds were as dejected as Brendan’s mood. The Spanish moss hanging from the trees made them look as ragged as the house. The only spots of color were the vast assortment of birds flying about and the purple wisteria that had been allowed to grow wild, overtaking anything that would hold the climbing vines.
Although it was a little past 9:00 a.m., the day was already sweltering. Brendan circled the house and pulled up to park in the shade beneath one of the trees. He heard someone call out his name as he got out and turned to see his little sister running out of the woods. The knot in his belly eased. Belinda was the light of his life. He couldn’t love her more if she’d been his own child. He waved and then waited in the shade for her to arrive.
“Brendan! Brendan! I didn’t know you were coming!” she shouted as she jumped into his arms.
He was laughing as he hugged her, a little stunned by how long her legs were getting as the toes of her shoes bumped against his knees.
“You are growing like a weed, little sister. And speaking of weeds, what is that on your head?”
Linny wiggled to be put down, which he did. Then she straightened her crown, stabbed her scepter into the dirt, and lifted her chin.
“I am Belinda, Queen of the Bayou! This is my crown.”
Brendan laughed and tweaked the leaves. “Looks more like the Kudzu Queen to me.”
She ignored him. “A queen is a queen, and you are Sir Brendan, my good and faithful knight!”
Another twinge of guilt shot through him. He wasn’t all that faithful or he wouldn’t have left them alone with Anson Poe. All of a sudden, they heard a high-pitched shriek come from inside the house.
“Mama,” Linny whispered. The crown fell from her head as she turned to run, but Brendan was already ahead of her.
He was the first to see his mother on the floor and Anson standing over her with an empty coffee cup dangling from his fingers. Rage blossomed as he dropped to his knees beside her. He saw the bruise on her cheek, the tears on her face, and the skin on the tops of her feet already beginning to blister. His voice was calm, belying the hate in his gut.
“Mama, what happened?
When his little sister dropped down beside them and started to cry, he heard a soft chuckle. Anson was actually laughing.
He needed to get Linny out of the room.
“Sugar, I need you to go get that bottle of aloe vera gel out of the back bathroom for me.”
“Mama, your feet. Your poor feet.” Linny sobbed.
Brendan patted the top of her head. “Go on, honey.”
She jumped up and ran.
Brendan doubled his fists.
Delle grabbed his wrist.
“It was my fault, Bren. I bumped his arm and—”
“Really, Mama? And what exactly did you bump to get that bruise on your cheek?”
She blushed under her youngest son’s stare and then looked away.
Brendan stood up, turned the fire out from under the gumbo, and then hit his father so fast Anson never saw it coming.
Anson fell backward with a resounding thud, and when he opened his eyes, the water stain on the ceiling was going in and out of focus. His head still buzzed as he dragged himself from the floor, too stunned to make a remark.
“Sorry about that. I was aiming for that fly,” Brendan drawled and swung his mother up into his arms.
She didn’t weigh nearly enough, which made him wonder what else she was enduring as he sat her on the counter, and swung her feet into the sink.
“Oh God, dear God.” She kept moaning and gritted her teeth to keep from screaming.
When Brendan turned on the cold water, she shrieked. She rocked back and forth as Linny appeared in the doorway, a look of terror on her face.
“It’s okay, sugar,” Brendan said. “We’re just putting cold water on Mama’s burns.”
Linny saw the blood running from her father’s lip, and she took a deep breath. As long as Bren was here, nothing bad could happen.
“Did you find the aloe?” Brendan asked.
She handed it to him and then slipped beneath her mother’s arm.
“I’m okay, baby. The coffee was hot. It was just an accident,” Delle said.
Anson picked up the toast he’d dropped and tossed it in the trash, swiped the blood off his lip with the back of his hand, and pointed at his daughter.
“Make me some more toast, girl.”
Linny flinched.
Delle tightened her grip on Linny’s shoulders.
“Make it your damn self,” Delle said.
Linny spun out from under her mother’s grasp, grabbed the other piece of toast from the toaster, and thrust it into her father’s hand.
He grabbed her by her ponytail, yanking her head back just enough that she was forced to look at his face.
“You don’t feed your daddy leftovers,” he snapped.
Linny knew Daddy burned Mama. Her anger made her brave.
“It’s not leftover, Daddy. I never took a bite,” she said calmly.
“Turn loose of her now,” Brendan said.
Anson looked up. Brendan’s hand was only inches from the knife-filled butcher block. It was time to deflate this before it got dirty. He laughed and released his grasp.
“Son-of-a-bitch, ya’ll. Calm down. Everything’s cool. Like your mama said, it was an accident.”
He winked at Belinda and then took a great big bite out of the middle of the toast, chewing loudly as he left the kitchen.
Brendan spun to face his mother.
“Why do you stay with that bastard?”
Delle’s voice was just above a whisper.
“He’s my husband. I took a vow to—”
“He took the same vows and he’s broken every one of them, which damn sure nullifies yours,” Brendan snapped. “You and Linny can come live with me. I have plenty of room and the apartment is air-conditioned.”
Delle’s shoulders slumped. “If we did, he wouldn’t let it go. None of us would ever know peace. He wouldn’t leave you alone until he hurt you, son.”
Linny was shaking as she slipped back beneath her mother’s arm.
“I’ll watch out for her, Bren,” she said.
“You’re supposed to be playing and being a happy little girl, not standing guard against Anson Poe.”
Delle frowned. “Hush, Brendan. Do not bad-mouth your father in front of me.”
“I’m twenty-six years old, LaDelle, not twelve, and Anson might have supplied the sperm that made me, but he is not, nor ever has been, any kind of father. Now stop talking, get your feet out of the sink, and let me have a look.”
“Do not call me LaDelle,” she muttered. “I am your Mama.”
“It got your attention now, didn’t it? Let me see your feet, please.”
She moaned as he turned off the water. He began patting her feet dry and frowned. Water-filled blisters were already forming.
He upended the bottle of aloe and carefully squeezed the cool gel on both of her feet, then wrapped them in the oldest, softest dishtowels he could find.
“That’s the best I can do,” Brendan said. “Linny, go get Mama’s purse.”
“What for?” Delle asked as Linny ran out of the room.
“You’re going to the hospital.”
She panicked. “No, no, I can’t go. I’m making gumbo.”
“It can finish cooking on the back of the stove,” Brendan muttered.
“But Anson—”
Brendan’s eyes narrowed sharply, and in that moment, Delle shut her mouth. One Poe could be as hard as another.
Linny came back with the purse, only steps ahead of her father.
“What the fuck do you all think you’re doing?” he yelled, as he strode into the kitchen.
Brendan pulled the cloth back from one of Delle’s feet.
The sight actually left him speechless.
Brendan wrapped it back up and picked his mother up in his arms.
“Linny, get the door,” he said.
Anson reached for his daughter. “She stays with me.”
“Like hell. Linny, get the door,” Brendan repeated, then turned his back on Anson.
Anson was furious. “Boy, you overstep your bounds! That’s my wife and my daughter and this is my house. You don’t—”
Brendan pulled the door shut behind him and all but ran toward the SUV, half expecting to hear gunshots.
He heard vehicles approaching as he was loading Delle into the backseat and looked up. His brothers had just arrived. They pulled in beside him and parked.
Samuel Poe had just turned thirty and was Anson’s firstborn. Chance was twenty-eight, only two years older than Brendan.
“What’s going on?” Sam asked as he got out.
Chance tugged at Linny’s ponytail just hard enough to make her squeal, then tweaked her nose.
“Anson poured hot coffee on Mama’s feet,” Brendan said.
Sam frowned. “The hell you say.” He saw the pain on her face and the wrappings on her feet. He flushed a dark, angry red. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
Delle was scared of what was going to happen to her when no one else was around and kept trying to smooth it over.
“It’s okay, Sam. I’ll—”
“It’s not okay, Mama. It’ll never be okay,” Brendan snapped.
Chance leaned in to give his mother a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Sorry, Mama.”
Delle’s fingers were trembling from the pain as she patted his cheek.
“Linny! Get in the car,” Brendan said.
“Where are you taking her?” Sam asked.
“To the hospital and then to my place to get well. After that, it’s Mama’s call what she does. If she wants to come back, I’ll bring her myself. If she doesn’t, that’s fine, too. Just know that I’ll put a gun to his head and shoot him myself before this happens again. I’m done with him. He’s a mad dog someone needs to put down.”
“Are you taking Linny, too? He won’t like that,” Sam said.
Brendan looked at his brother in disbelief. “So, your suggestion would be to leave her here alone with him? Seriously?”
Sam looked away.
Brendan got in the car and drove away.
They stood watching him go, somewhat in awe of his defiance. They had less trouble with Anson than most people, only because they never balked or argued. All their lives it had been Brendan, the little brother, who would not bend to Anson’s will.
“Boy, he’s done it this time,” Sam muttered and glanced at his brother for confirmation.
Chance shrugged. The war between Brendan and their father was nothing new.
They heard the screen door squeak.
Anson strode out of the house, slamming the door shut behind him.
They saw his swollen, bloody lip and could tell by the length of his stride that he was pissed. Since neither of them was ready to die, they looked away.
“What do you need us to do first?” Sam asked.
Anson pointed toward the packing shed. “Start weighing up Riordan’s order. He’s coming in early to get ahead of the weather.”
“How much time do we have?” Chance asked.
“He’ll be here by 2:00 p.m.”
“Then we better get busy,” Sam said and headed for the shed.
There was a secret room beneath the floor of the old stable that had once been a stop on the Underground Railroad. Back then, they’d hidden runaway slaves. Now, it was where they stashed the dried and bundled pot.
Satisfied his two older sons were on board, Anson looked up the driveway at the slowly settling dust. There would come a time when he and Brendan would come face to face on a subject that couldn’t be ignored. When that happened, one of them would wind up dead, and he didn’t plan on it being him.
****
LaDelle cried all the way to New Orleans. Her skin was cold and clammy and she couldn’t stop shaking. Shock had set in.
Linny was in the front seat sobbing in concert. Witnessing her mother’s misery was more than she could bear.
Brendan drove as fast as he dared until he hit the city limits, then was forced to slow down. By the time he wheeled up to the emergency room entrance at the Touro Infirmary on Foucher Street, Delle was shaking so hard she couldn’t speak.
Brendan slid to a stop.
“We’re here, Mama. Hang on.”
He jumped out, lifted her out of the back seat, and carried her inside.
“I need help,” Brendan said. “My mother has been burned.”
An orderly appeared with a wheelchair, but Brendan shook his head.
“I’ll carry her. Just tell me where to go.”
The orderly led the way through double doors into ER, then into an empty room. Two nurses followed them in as Brendan laid Delle down on the bed.
“Oh my God, oh Jesus,” Delle moaned, as the nurses began to unwrap the white cloths from around her feet.
Brendan’s hand was on her shoulder. He was angry and so sick at heart he wanted to weep, but he had to stay calm, both for her and for his sister.
“Her name is LaDelle Poe. She’s allergic to codeine. All I did was run cold water on the burns. That’s aloe gel on her skin and the cloths were clean.”
“Good job,” the nurse said.
Brendan grabbed his little sister by the hand.
“Linny, stay right here with Mama,” he said. “I have to go move the car.”
The little girl was wide-eyed and tearless as she moved up to stand beside the bed. She laid her hand on her mother’s arm to let her know she was there.
“Brendan, don’t go,” Delle cried.