Authors: Dara Girard
“I saw your commercial,” he said.
Her heart began to race. Did he like it? Was he proud of her? “Oh really?”
“It made things clear for me.”
“What things?”
“Why Randolph married you.”
Her heart fell, dashing all hopes. She kept her voice light. “What are you suggesting?” she asked, although she already knew the answer.
He folded his arms, his face pensive. “I couldn’t figure it out at first. I wanted to believe it was love, but something in me knew otherwise. Now I know the truth. I don’t blame you. I know you wanted to get married and you certainly found a way.” He pointed a finger at her. “However, I didn’t raise a daughter who exhibits herself for profit.”
Her lips thinned. “No, you didn’t. You didn’t raise me at all.”
“I’m your—”
“I know who you are. However, I cannot believe you have the audacity to come in here and scold me.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Scold you? I’m here to warn you. You think it will stop with a commercial? No way. Soon they’ll want you to write a book and then go around the country
parading your leg like a side show.”
“The commercial was
my
idea, and I’m proud of my involvement. The Trandor cane is an excellent product and I recognized that I was the perfect candidate to market it. I’m not ashamed of who I am.”
“Well, you should be! Heaven knows I am.”
Brenna replied with silence. A cold silence that made Crampton shift awkwardly in his seat.
“So that’s why you came?” she asked softly. “To make sure that I stayed as unhappy as you are? Everything was okay as long as I stayed behind my desk and kept quietly single. That’s all you expected of me. But my success is showing you all the things you didn’t do with your life.”
His gaze fell.
“Dad, can’t we get past this, please? Can’t you just accept me and be happy for me?”
He met her eyes. “Does he love you?”
“We’re not talking about my marriage we’re talking about us.”
He sniffed scornful. “He doesn’t. I can tell by your voice. I agree that I compromised my life. I’m not proud of that. And your success does make me ashamed of the choices I’ve made.” He leaned forward smug. “But think of your own choices. Aren’t you doing the same? You’re settling because you don’t think you can get better.”
“What I have is good enough for me,” she said in clipped tones. “And that’s all we’ll say on the topic.”
“What about your brother?”
There wasn’t a moment that went by that she didn’t think of him. Worry about him. “Things will work out.”
“You’re optimistic.”
“I don’t have the privilege to be otherwise.”
“He’s got himself in quite a mess.”
“Have you talked to him?”
He shrugged. “I have nothing to say.”
Her lip curled. “Not even ‘Hello son’?”
“I’m not good with words.”
“You had plenty a few moments ago.”
He fiddled with his cane. “I want you to be happy, just not this way.”
She turned to her computer. “The door is behind you.”
“It was just—”
“I said the door is behind you,” she repeated firmly. “You can come back when you learn to be a father.”
His voice shook with an anger she’d never heard before. “How can I be a father when you won’t treat me like one? You say you forgive me, but when I offer advice you keep reminding me that I was never around. You want me to be proud of you, but you’re ashamed of me. I am not perfect but by God I love my children to my bones. I left because I couldn’t be what I wanted to be for you. I don’t understand you Brenna and I don’t understand your brother but that doesn’t stop me from caring about you. I’m here because I don’t want to see you mistreated by anyone. I don’t care how much money he’s got, how much power they have. You deserve to be loved Brenna.” Tears fell down his face. “You’re my little girl and that’s the one lesson I want to teach you. So listen good. You deserve to be loved.”
Brenna watched her father leave as she swallowed back tears.
***
Stephen stared at Byron as he went over his notes. He hadn’t changed from the man who everyone had touted as Brenna’s savior. The family had been shocked when Byron had asked her out. But Stephen had never quite trusted his reasons for dating Brenna. Not that he was surprised anyone would be interested in his sister. Byron just didn’t seem the type. He appeared open and carefree, but Stephen always wondered if it was genuine. Even now he wondered about Byron’s reasons for taking the case.
“Are you here because of Brenna?”
Byron glanced up and flashed a grin. “That’s immaterial.”
Stephen sent him a cool look. “Is that lawyer-speak for none of your business?”
His smile fell. “Do you want to talk about something?”
“Yea, why you’re here. You read about my case I know. Did you want to help me or impress Brenna?”
“Both.”
“Why? I’m sure before you came here you knew she was married.”
“Yes. I was surprised.”
“Why? Because you didn’t want to marry her?”
He hesitated. “No.”
“She told me she’d proposed.”
“Oh.”
“Why did you say no?”
He shrugged. “I was young. I thought it was a risk.”
“Thought what was a risk?”
“A family.”
Stephen’s face cleared in understanding. “You—”
“I was being honest.”
“Fortunately, Hunter’s a bigger man than that.”
“Maybe or maybe he just knows how to use her to his advantage.”
“He’s not using her.”
Byron stroked his chin. “I’ve seen her commercials.”
“That’s not why he married her.”
Byron only smiled.
***
Hunter had dreaded this moment for weeks. But he could no longer deny the facts in front of him. He shut off his computer and went to his father’s office.
“Come in.” Curtis glanced up at him then back at his desk. “Yes?”
He sat down. “I know what you’re doing with the inventory.”
Curtis didn’t ask what, why or how he knew. He just stared at his son across the desk with a bored expression. “And why should that be a concern to me?”
“Your little set up won’t be safe for long. This isn’t a threat, just a warning. I’ll give you a month to get things in order.”
A cold smile spread over his face. “The fact that you’re here tells me that you don’t know anything. You disappoint me. I thought you were smarter than that.”
Hunter frowned confused by the anger under his tone. “I’m trying to save you.”
“I don’t need you to save me. Who are you going to tell? People already know. Even your beloved grandfather. So why don’t you do us all a favor and go back to your room and behave like the good little boy we’re paying you to be.”
“But this is wrong.”
“A matter of judgment. I consider what you’re doing wrong. You’ve forgotten your duty.”
“I know my duty.”
“And your duty is to protect the family.”
“It’s my duty to make sure this company—”
“Runs the way it’s always run. You’re not a company spy so go back and do your job. I’d hate to see you lose it.”
“Would you?”
Curtis merely blinked. Hunter nodded then left. Once he was gone, Curtis picked up the phone. “He came and made a threat.”
“What will he do?” Orson said.
“He didn’t say. I don’t need him breathing down my neck. Make him back off.”
Orson laughed at his son’s uneasiness. “Don’t worry. I will.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Somehow Brenna always knew he would come. She never knew when just that he would. So Brenna was not surprised when Mrs. Symnthon found her in the library one Saturday morning to tell her she had a visitor. She doubted it was a coincidence that Hunter was at work that day and she was alone. She composed herself and entered the sitting room where Orson stood by the window. It was a large arc structure that framed the landscape. It now framed him like a portrait of a man of power. He was still a big man, despite the years, with the physical build of a much younger one.
“This is a surprise,” Brenna said, taking a seat.
He didn’t turn when she entered. He watched a passing robin.
“Would you like anything to drink?”
He lifted his glass. “I’ve been sufficiently refreshed thank you.” He fell quiet again. He was a man who knew the power of silence and used it well. After a few more moments she stood, determined not to play his game.
“Hunter is at work,” he said when she reached the door.
“I know.”
“He will make an excellent company President one day.”
She sat and smoothed out her skirt, knowing his statement didn’t require a reply.
He abruptly turned. “Do you love him?”
His question did not startle her as it was meant to. She merely stared back.
“He doesn’t love you.”
“I am fully aware of his feelings towards me.”
He sniffed. “Or his lack of.”
She met his piercing gaze straight on. “The truth doesn’t wound me so you may as well try another tactic.”
Orson flashed a cool grin. “Full of iron, aren’t you? Like your cane?” His eyes trailed the length of her. “There’s no softness in you. You’ve spent too many years protecting yourself.”
“Don’t waste my time with your analysis. Get to the point.”
“I’m offering you a kindly warning. You’ve been asking about his mother. I want you to stop.”
“You want me to stop. Is that your warning?” Brenna sighed with feigned disappointment. “I’d expected more.”
“I’m a very powerful man.”
“Yes,” she agreed with an unwavering stare. “And you wield your power well, but not over me.”
“You don’t know that yet.”
“You use his past against him. Why? What are you trying to protect?”
“His past is best forgotten.”
She drummed her fingers on the head of her cane. “Let’s try to come to an understanding. We’re two intelligent people I’m sure we can find some common ground.”
“Then let’s understand that the common ground you stand on belongs to me.”
Brenna let her gaze roam to the window. She knew it was best not to antagonize one’s enemy. Like staring a bear in the eye, it only invited more violence. “In a way I admire you. You’re a man who struggled. A Southern boy, whose father had been a man who’d come back from the war more as a commander than a family man. Your mother was little more than a shadow. You lived in a time when your limitations where sanctioned by a government. By the complacency of an entire nation.” She moved her gaze to a light in the corner and kept her voice free of pity. “You saw your father fight for a country that’d still shoot him in the street if they had the opportunity.”
She returned her gaze to him. “How it must gall you to see the freedom of thought Hunter has. He has no chains gripped to his mind to keep him under your control—so you created those chains, those handcuffs. You call them honor and loyalty so he will heed to your beliefs. However, I won’t succumb to your chains.”
Orson walked to a picture. A simple charcoal sketch of a man’s face. He studied it giving no indication of how her words affected him. “He once had a younger brother. We named him Lionel. He was found dead in his crib one day with a towel wrapped around his neck. Hunter held him in his arms. Hunter had always been jealous of his mother’s affection. Marlene came and saw what Hunter had done and lost it.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Orson turned to her. “You’ve never seen him jealous. He doesn’t care enough about you enough to reveal that side, but we’ve seen it. Angie’s seen it.”
His words made her inwardly tremble. “You’re telling lies so that you can control me too, but this...” She shook her head. “No, I won’t believe a word.”
“Exactly and if you can’t handle this truth how do you think Hunter would feel?”
“Were you there when it happened?”
“No.”
“Who was there?”
“I could show you his grave.”
Brenna smiled with condescension. “You could show me
a
grave. It may not be his.”
“Why would I lie about a five year old boy?”
“Knowing you, I’m sure there would be a reason. You could make this easy and tell me why.”
Orson made an impatient movement with his shoulders. “Don’t try to change the topic.”
“The subject is Hunter. Why did you really give him the job? Especially if you’ll continue to run it.”
“Because it’s my company.”
She nodded. “As long as you’re alive. But the years are catching up to you. You’re powerless against time. But you know about feeling powerless. You lived with it. When society had tried to take away your right to be a man. A fully grown man not just a Southern black boy. Weakness in any form is abhorrent to you from what you’ve seen. How many times did some shopkeeper call you boy? A grown man with a wife? How many times did you actually feel the color of your skin as though it were a disease that you wished you could peel off?”
“I’ve never been ashamed—”
“How many times did your worth feel less than the mud clinging to your shoes? How often and how long were you a Boy?”
He tossed his drink in her face. “Now that there was just a nice cool whiskey,” he said with a hint of a smile as sweet as venom. “Don’t force me to throw my fist.”
She wiped her cheek unafraid although she could feel her anger build. “I thought a gentleman like you would be against hitting a woman.”
“I don’t see one standing in front of me.”
Brenna lifted a brow and grinned. “I will decline sharing what I see in front of me.”
“People need to know their place whether they be man or woman.”
“Hunter’s dangerous to you, isn’t he? In Hunter’s eyes you see a rebelliousness, a spirit on fire just barely tamed and you watch and study it not because it reminds you of the young man you used to be. No, Hunter is something far worse. In your sons you can see your face reflected. Even in Doran and his siblings, but in Hunter it’s something new. Something that threatens the castle walls you’ve erected. You see a man in a different form. A man who can be gentle and strong. A man who can love freely, passionately.”
Brenna raised her voice before he could speak. “I know he doesn’t love me. But I know he loves by the way he cares for his family. Call it loyalty if you must. In him you see another way to live in this world. A way of being that is the antithesis of your truth. Eighty is a long time to be alive. You’ve seen a lot, but allowed yourself to only experience a small amount. In order for survival, for your spirit to be intact you had to forge your own rules. But those rules don’t apply to everyone. And they don’t apply to him.”