Bennett (Bourbon & Blood #1) Read online

  It was nearly four in the afternoon. Mia had been awake for somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty-three hours. She was wild-eyed. Her hair was disheveled and she was covered in dirt and grime from places in the house she would never have dreamed to look for anything more than dust and cobwebs.

  Throughout the course of the day, people had come and gone from the house. Teresa had looked in on her here and there, but by and large, had given her a wide berth. Quentin had somehow managed to get back from Knoxville early and had stopped by at lunch, no doubt sent by Clayton to check on her. He’d taken one look at her, dropped the food, which still sat untouched on the table, and had backed away.

  “Can I help?”

  Mia looked up to see Annalee standing in the doorway. “You look rested.”

  “He did not spend the night. I did not sleep with him,” Annalee said. “Stop poking at my love life and I won’t poke at yours.”

  Mia considered the options. “Done.”

  “So what am I looking for?” Annalee asked.

  “Letters. Handwritten to my mother or father from Barbara Shelby. They may or may not be signed.”

  “Got it… Am I going to be grossed out by them?”

  Mia nodded. “Probably.”

  Annalee grabbed one of the totes still covered in dust that had clearly not been touched yet. “Not to be too much of a nanny here but, have you slept? Or showered?”

  “No, and I’m hot. Sweating like a whore in church. There’s a lot of things you shouldn’t be poking at right now,” Mia said pointedly.

  “Fair enough,” she replied and opened the tote.

  They worked in silence for the longest time, each one sorting through years of memories. It would have been a tedious chore, sifting through the boxes and crates that held the scraps and ravages of a life that hadn’t ended, but had stopped just the same, if it weren’t so damn heartbreaking. Recipes that would never be used. Photos that would never be added to family albums and marked with the precise and almost calligraphic handwriting of the woman who just hadn’t had time to get to it all.

  Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was her overprotective older brother sending in the troops to keep tabs on her. Whatever it was, Mia was just suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.

  “This is what’s left of her. This, right here, all these plans and tasks… I don’t want this to be someday. I don’t want to look up and realize that I let my whole life be an accumulation of things that I thought I would do or have someday.”

  Annalee stopped, the papers clutched tightly in her hand. “Mia, I don’t know what happened here last night. Or what happened here the night you intended to run away with him… but I do know, that in spite of everything, these last two weeks I have seen you smile more, laugh more, and live more than I have in the ten years that I have known you.”

  It was like a knife twisting inside her. Mia closed her eyes and willed the pain away. It wasn’t heartbreak. It wasn’t rejection. It was regret, and nothing had ever cut so deeply.

  Annalee reached into the box and pulled out a photo, holding it up for her to see. It was taken at some point when Mia had been in high school, but definitely at some point after Bennett had been part of her life. There was a smile on her face that had only ever been put there by him.

  Annalee’s voice was soft. “For the last week and half, you’ve been this girl. A little older and a little wiser… well, maybe a little wiser. But I’ve never known the girl in this picture. I’ve never seen your eyes sparkle like this… not until recently.”

  Mia shifted from her knees and sat down on the floor with her legs crossed. “Do you regret it?” she asked.

  “Regret what?”

  Mia gave her a baleful stare. “Do you regret leaving my brother?”

  “I regret feeling like I had no other option,” the other woman replied cagily.

  “That’s not really an answer. Do you miss Clayton? Do you think about him and about how things might have been, or could still be, different?” The clarification was precise and measured and intended to prompt a straight answer.

  Annalee looked up. “I thought we weren’t going to poke at this.”

  “Changed my mind.”

  She shrugged and answered. “Of course, I do. I love him. I will always love him… but somehow, it just stopped being what it was supposed to be for us. He got quiet and distant, and I felt like a shadow moving through his life. Whatever was in his head, whatever was consuming him… he wouldn’t share that with me.”

  “Clay doesn’t do a whole lot of sharing, Annalee. That’s not who he is. He’s the fixer. Hell, that’s why you’re here right now!”

  Annalee put the box she’d been sorting down on the ground and dusted her hands on her designer jeans. It was a different look from the boho chick that Clayton had brought home that first Christmas after their world fell apart.

  Looking at her, Mia realized just how much her sister-in-law had changed. The free flowing hair had been tamed and her tattoos were covered with a perfectly ladylike sweater from Nordstrom’s. Everything about the woman in front of her was sedate, restrained, refined. Annalee looked more like the one of them born to an old Kentucky family. Where was the hippy, the artist, the woman who wanted to go topless on the beach for her honeymoon?

  When she spoke, Annalee answered softly, but there was steel in her voice, a hard edge that revealed just how much it hurt. “I know that, Mia. I’ve always known that about him… but how he related to the rest of the world was not how he was supposed to relate to me. I was his wife. I deserved to have a piece of him that was just mine.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mia said. “I wish I could make it better.”

  “We all wish that for the people we love. Whatever happens for Clayton and me, you’re my family. Got it?”

  Mia nodded. “I got it. And I’m guessing that it’s time to pick up Emma Grace from… what is it today? Dance, Girl Scouts?”

  “A field trip to the candy factory in Bardstown. What the hell happened to just going to school?”

  Mia said nothing further, but watched as Annalee left the room. The only thing her family seemed to have in abundance anymore was misery. And work, she thought, glancing at the tornado like quality of the room around her.

  Forcing herself to move, since it was either that or collapse from exhaustion, Mia opened another cardboard box that had been brought down from the attic; she hadn’t thought about it, but that was probably a better starting point. Patricia had hoarded every scrap of paper, but she’d always stored them carefully in totes or plastic containers. The cardboard was an afterthought, probably by Samuel or by her brothers.

  It was mostly old bills, paid, that should have been thrown out years ago. Near the bottom, she found a stack of medical bills. They were from the aftermath of Patricia’s accident. It was a horrible thing to be excited by, but she finally felt like she was getting somewhere, at least in the right time frame.

  Another box down, her back screaming from sitting on the floor for hours and her eyes burning from exhaustion and dust, Mia reached for another one and swore it would be the last, at least for a while. She was midway through it when she found her mother’s purse. Somehow, with test results and hospital bills, the whole thing had just been tossed in the box.

  Her heart was pounding and her palms were sweating as she unzipped it. The smell hit her instantly. The pressed powder and lipstick smell that still permeated the fabric lining brought back a hundred memories. Tissues, a petrified pack of gum, a wallet filled with receipts too old and yellowed to read, and at the bottom of the bag, wadded into a tight, angry ball, was the letter.

  Mia unfolded it carefully, smoothing creases with hands that shook. The first lines were innocuous enough, but then the tone of the words on the page shifted. This was no tearful apology, no mea culpa. It was gloating and hateful, and hardly thinly veiled at that.

  Barbara Shelby hadn’t sent a letter of contrition but superiority. She was lording it over her, one
woman to another, that the husband had strayed. People grow apart. Sometimes, the act of being a mother interferes with the act of being a wife. There were a half dozen insults in there directed at Patricia to explain Samuel’s infidelity. Not a one of them included the truth. He was a selfish son of a bitch and Barbara considered him a trophy, tagged and bagged.

  Above all else, Mia took one thing from that letter. The date on it was the same date of her mother’s accident. Digging in the purse, produced an envelope, hand addressed, no return and no post mark. It had been delivered by hand. Elizabeth, in her psycho rambling, had told the truth.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” she whispered aloud. She’d said those words before. A dozen times over the years in moments of resent, in moments of desperation and loneliness when she just wanted to run away and never look back. But she’d never said them with conviction. They’d never rang with any kind of truth for her.

  Folding the letter and envelope carefully, Mia stuffed them in the front pocket of her jeans and after a few false starts, managed to get to her feet. She hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept, and the turmoil of the last twenty-four hours had taken their toll.

  Taking each of the stairs with caution, Mia made her way down to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and retrieved a soda. She needed the sugar and the calories at that point.

  “You need to sit down before you fall down.”

  Mia looked back at Evelyn who’d come in early. No one asked about Elizabeth. Teresa and Evelyn had just agreed to each do a twelve hour shift.

  “I’ll be fine. I’m gonna rest now, and I’ll put all this back together tomorrow,” Mia answered.

  Evelyn walked over the fridge and pulled out a few things, placing them on the counter. “You’re going to eat this sandwich, and then you’re going to bed. I don’t want to hear a word about it.”

  “I will. I promise,” Mia replied. “Thank you… for taking care of Mama. And me.”

  “You don’t thank me for that, child. That is not how this works. I don’t know what devil is riding you right now, but it's the very devil,” Evelyn admonished sharply.

  “I can’t really talk about it yet,” Mia confessed. But there are going to be some changes. Big changes.”

  “Your daddy?”

  Mia’s expression turned sour and bitter, her lips firming into a thin, hard line. “I will never call him that again.”

  “Whatever you intend to call him, you better figure it out quick. He just pulled up,” Evelyn said. “You don’t have it in you to fight him today. Just, for once in your life, let it lie, girl.”

  “Evelyn, you should go.”

  “No. That is not happening,” the older woman said fiercely. “You could be knocked down by a feather right now and that man is a bulldozer if ever there was one.”

  “I’m tougher than I look,” Mia argued.

  “You’d have to be right now, or we’d have had to bury you by noon today.”

  “Evelyn,” she said, and drew in a deep breath, “Go. Really. There are things that have to be said that… well, you’re entitled to hear them, but there are other people who ought to hear them first. I’ll be fine.”

  The other woman crossed her arms. “I will go for the time being. I need to run home and let my monstrous dogs out for a while and put some supper on the table for Mac. I’ll be back here by seven when it’s time to change and turn your mother again. And he’d better be gone.”

  “He will be,” Mia promised. “Without a doubt.”

  Evelyn shook her head, still muttering under her breath as she grabbed her keys and purse to head out the back door. She offered Samuel Darcy an icy glare for good measure. “You hurt that baby and I swear to God, I will make you regret it.”

  The screen door closed with a bang as Evelyn walked out to her beat up car.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Samuel Darcy glared at the still trembling door and the back of the woman who’d stormed through it. “That woman needs to be fired,” he said.

  “That woman takes care of Mama like she’s the most precious thing in this world. She can call you every name in the book, as far as I’m concerned and dance a damn jig while she does it,” Mia shot back with enough heat in her voice that he actually looked at her.

  Samuel, she’d realized, never really looked at anyone. He sized them up at first glance, then whenever he spoke to them after, he’d keep his eyes on his phone, his watch, his latest acquisition. People were just things to him, and once you saw through his charm, it didn’t take long to figure that out.

  “You’re in a mood,” he snapped. “And you look like a goddamn indigent. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I had a little run in with an old friend of yours,” Mia said softly. “Actually, it was her psycho bitch of a daughter, but let’s not put too fine a point on it. Elizabeth was here at Barbara’s request. Evil is nothing without quality minions.”

  “You’re babbling. I didn’t come here for nonsense.”

  “Did you come to tell me another lie? To tell me that my adolescent selfishness destroyed my mother?” She laughed, but the hard, brittle sound would never be mistaken for humor. “Oh, you can’t… that particular line is already used up.”

  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, as if she were a constant trial to be borne. “Mia, I did not come here to fight with you or to tolerate this overly emotional drama you’ve wrought—.”

  “That I’ve wrought?” Mia gaped at him, astounded at his arrogance. “You did this to her!”

  His jaw firmed and his mouth twisted into a thin, cruel line. “She drove that car, Mia. She’s the one who slammed it into a tree because she was being reckless!”

  “Because you broke her!” she screamed at him. “With your lies and your cheating and your manipulation, you pushed her to leave! You let her walk out of this house devastated and clearly not capable of driving. You weren’t driving the car, but you sure as hell didn’t try to stop her from doing it! And now, all of this, my whole life has been devoted to taking care of her. All the guilt, all the responsibility that I shouldered for years… and all along, you did it!”

  “We will discuss this when you can behave rationally,” he shouted, oblivious to the fact that he was just as irrational at the moment as she was. A vein throbbed in his forehead and his face had flushed with anger. “I’m not going to stand here and let my daughter yell at me! We are Darcys, Mia. Whether you like it or not, you are my blood, and we are above this!”

  “You’re not above anything,” she replied flatly. “You’ve lied, cheated, stolen, and broken every promise you’ve ever made. Listening to you talk about family honor is enough to turn my stomach! I’m done, Samuel. I’m just done.”

  Every part of her felt heavy, as if weighted with lead. She didn’t know what to do. Even knowing that it had been a lie, reading that damned letter, saying it to him, confronting the thing that had held her prisoner for a decade left her more deflated than jubilant.

  He grabbed her arm and hauled her back. “You don’t walk away from me! You don’t ever turn your back on me!”

  She spun around and pushed back at him, until he stumbled. “Or what?” she demanded.

  He shoved her then, hard enough that she hit the wall and her head bounced off the plaster. Her vision flashed and dimmed before finally returning to normal. Somehow, she managed to stay upright

  “If you want to leave, then leave,” he sneered. “But this house, and everything in it belongs to me. If you walk out, you do it with nothing but the clothes on your back.”

  Mia considered her options. She had no car, no money. All that she’d managed to save from her salary had been eaten up paying for caregivers for her mother. Everything else was tied up in the distillery. Yes, she owned twenty percent of it, but what she and her brothers had been paying themselves was barely enough to get by. But the other option, remaining under his roof, was one she couldn’t abide. “Then I’ll go,” she said simply. “Evelyn will be back at seven.
I assume you can spare two hours of your life to care for the woman you destroyed.”

  “What I said all those years ago still stands,” he threatened. “You’ll never see your mother again. I’ll put her in a home and you won’t be permitted to even cross the threshold.”

  “I’m not eighteen anymore. I’m older and a hell of a lot smarter,” she replied. “You are her husband and by law, her guardian, but any judge can overturn that and appoint someone else.”

  He said nothing, just stood there with his chest heaving like a bellows. The fury that rolled off him left her unmoved. It wasn’t what she was doing, it wasn’t guilt or defensiveness at being caught in the lies. It was just wounded, angry pride because she dared to defy him. “I will fight you tooth and nail,” he finally said. “Just to prove you wrong.”

  She had never considered that he wouldn’t. “Given your well-publicized affairs and recent scandals, not to mention the crazy ass Stepford daughter of your former mistress tried to murder me…. I don’t think I’ll have a problem getting a judge to agree that you can’t possibly have her best interests at heart. So you do what you feel like you have to, but be prepared, you son of a bitch, because I’ll do the same.”

  He grabbed her hair and hauled her forward. Until that day, Samuel had never touched her in anger. He’d shouted, he’d ridiculed and manipulated, he’d guilted her into conforming to his will, but he’d never physically harmed her. As he dragged her toward the door, Mia fought. She kicked, clawed, elbowed and did everything in her power to make his life hell.

  By the time they’d reached the door, they were both shaking and out of breath. His face had turned a shade of purple that, at any other time, would have caused her concern. In that moment, she hated him enough to wish that he would have a stroke or a heart attack. She’d put him in the same kind of nursing home he’d always threatened to put her mother in.

  “Get out,” he gasped. “Get out and don’t come back. If you want to run with that white trash, do it, but you’ll never step foot in this house again.”