“Was a time,” Chloe said evenly, “when that wouldn’t have mattered.”
“Yeah, well, that time’s past.”
“And he’s a Tufa. Not pure as us, but close. And what’s there’s true. That’s the only reason I made your daddy put up with Dwayne for so long.”
Bronwyn frowned; then her eyes opened wide. She recalled Mandalay’s words, the promise they tried to exact from her, and jumped to her feet. “You gotta be kidding me,” she rasped. “You mean you pimped me out to Dwayne Gitterman?”
Chloe laughed bitterly. “Don’t be so dramatic. You found Dwayne all on your own, and we couldn’t have pried you off him with a crowbar. But your daddy would’ve sung his dyin’ dirge a long time ago if I’d let him. He knew exactly what Dwayne was about.”
“Did you?”
“Bronwyn, you ain’t the only woman in this family. Everything you feel, I’ve felt. Everything that you wanted, I’ve wanted. You think I don’t know the appeal of someone like Dwayne? You think I didn’t have someone like that when I was younger? I’ve been everywhere you have, girl. On my knees, on my back. And nobody had to force me there, I enjoyed it.” Her eyes grew shiny and her words harsh. “I laughed at your daddy back then, wanting me to settle down and raise a family. I laughed at the First Daughters telling me he was the right man for me. How could any man so goddamned dull compete with the boys who’d take you off into the woods and show you the hum and the shiver?”
Bronwyn could hardly breathe. Who was this woman? “Holy shit, Mom,” was all she could say.
“And here you are. It’s like looking in a mirror some days, Bronwyn, and seeing myself twenty-five years ago. And you know what? I hate it. I don’t want to know about the boys you chase, and especially the ones you catch. I don’t want to imagine you with them, and you know why? Because when I’m lying awake at night staring at the ceiling, it makes me jealous. I’ll never feel that way again, and some days it feels like I’ve already died.”
She stood, went to the sink, and twisted the cold water tap. The running water covered any other sounds she made.
Bronwyn stood and put her hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Mom, I—”
“Go away, Bronwyn,” Chloe said.
Bronwyn felt the breath tight in her chest. “I don’t want you to die, Mom.”
Chloe said nothing.
Bronwyn’s vision grew misty. “You still have to teach me your song.”
Still nothing.
“All right. I’ll be around when you’re ready.” She turned and went back down the hall to her room.
When she heard the door close, Chloe splashed cold water on her face and turned off the tap. Her eye fell on two pictures hanging on the wall beside the front door. One showed Bronwyn in her uniform, fresh out of basic, stern and straight and with her natural fire tamped down by military brainwashing. The other showed Bronwyn and Kell, with baby Aiden in Kell’s lap. Bronwyn had her older brother in a headlock and he was trying to resist and keep his smile at the same time. It showed their dynamic perfectly, which is why Chloe loved it.
She also hated it. Those three children represented the loss of her freedom and tied her to a man she dearly loved but who seldom excited her to a frenzy anymore. She felt a jolt deep inside at the memory of a young dark-haired brute of a man, her own Dwayne Gitterman, so handsome and masculine that just the rumble of his voice saying her name could make her knees wobble. But he was long gone, and she was no longer that girl. How had she allowed that to happen?
And now the threat of death hung over her. Signs that could be ignored individually, together hinted at an undeniable fate, and it took all her strength to pretend she wasn’t scared.
She took off the baseball cap and shook her hair free. This was not the way to think, not the song she needed to sing. Deacon was the best thing that ever happened to her, and none of her children had asked to be born to her. They all deserved better than a mother who despised their existence. Especially Bronwyn, her baby girl, who’d endured such unimaginable torments. She suddenly realized that perhaps Bronwyn’s selfishness as a child hadn’t been an anomaly after all; maybe she actually had gotten it from Chloe. Only a selfish, bitter woman would’ve said the things she’d just told her daughter.
She closed her eyes. There was no time for bitterness, or selfishness. It was time for her to be strong, to be a true First Daughter.
She went to find her autoharp.
25
Susie Swayback looked across the plate of blueberry pancakes at her husband. It wasn’t her imagination: there really was something different about him, a change that made him somehow more attractive and at the same time disconcerted her. She couldn’t define it exactly, but his amorous attentions had certainly improved and she wasn’t about to complain about that. She said playfully, “What are you thinking so hard about?”
Don blinked back to the moment. He’d been staring past his own reflection in the window, out into the twilight. He watched the treetops wave in the wind, and the sight mesmerized him. It was almost like a song he couldn’t quite recall, hovering just beyond his consciousness. He’d experienced that a lot lately. He smiled and said, “Sorry. Just zoning out.”
“Because of work?”
He shrugged. “Nah. Work was just work.” In truth, the day had flown by, and even Sam seemed impressed with the column inches Don produced. It wasn’t easy for two men and a handful of stringers to fill a weekly newspaper, and usually they ran more filler than any respectable journalist could stomach. But tomorrow’s edition would be filled with real if not terribly exciting news stories, most of them rustled up and written by Don. From higher electrical rates to the construction of a new bridge on County Road K, he’d called his contacts until he got results. It was the way he’d been as a young reporter fresh out of college.
Sam hadn’t even bugged him about missing the deadline for the Hyatt interview. He seemed to accept that Don was working on it, building trust in the Tufa community as he went.
Now Don and Susie sat at the Waffle House outside Unicorn. Their first date as freshmen had been to a Waffle House after a movie, and they considered any of these restaurants “their” special place. Susie was off work for the whole weekend, so it seemed an appropriate way to celebrate a free Friday night. They were overdressed for the place, but that also echoed their first date.
“Well, you certainly seem to be in a better mood lately,” Susie said.
He scowled. “Wow. Was it that bad before?”
“Let’s just say I didn’t mind working extra shifts. But now I’m actually looking forward to seeing you again.” She waggled her eyebrows for emphasis.
He smiled and winked. “I’ve been feeling the same way about you.”
She reached across the booth table and squeezed his hand. Her wedding ring caught the light. “If I’d known getting your guitar out would’ve done this, you’d have been picking and grinning years ago. Think I could come with you the next time you go play somewhere?”
Don was about to reply when suddenly the front door opened with a slam. A tall young man with black hair and a cowboy hat strode inside with a loud, “Don’t nobody drop your pancakes!”
He laughed at the sound of silverware and crockery. People turned to glare at him, then quickly looked away. Intimidation radiated from him with no discernible effort. He took a french fry from a man’s plate, ate it, and went behind the counter where he pressed himself against the waitress. “Hey, sweet thang, I drove all the way out here just to stare at them fine titties. You glad to see me?”