Page 93 of Burning Skies
She shifts on the stool to look at me with accusation in her eyes. “You knew about that?”
I rush to explain. “I overheard Dad and Cash talking once when I was in high school. Cash was pissed that there’s some guy out there who stands to inherit what he’s worked so hard on. But I played dumb because I didn’t want Dad to yell at me.”
“There’s too much damn yelling in this house.” My mom wipes her eyes. “I’m tired, Honey. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be a doormat while my husband does whatever he wants.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to stay with Aunt June until I figure it out.”
From the other room, my father yells. “Abilene! Get in here.”
She dabs at her eyes again. “I’m being summoned by His Highness.”
I take her clammy hand in mine. “I’m so sorry, Mom. You can do this. Don’t let him bully you.” Because I’m starting to realize that’s what my father does. He bullies everyone around him.
“There’s something else you should know, Honey. Your father’s been sick. His kidneys were failing. He’s needed dialysis.”
My throat closes up. Guilt for thinking negatively about mydad instantly overwhelms me. “Is he going to be okay?” I can barely choke out the words.
She nods. “I’ve been going with him to his treatments, and I thought things were better. Health-wise, they are, but he’s using this as a reason to decide he can openly be with this other woman. After I raised his children, served his meals, and folded his laundry, he does this.” When her lower lip quivers, I grab her hand.
“Who is she?” All this time, that’s the one thing I haven’t known.
She shakes her head. “A ghost from the past.” With those cryptic words, she heads down the hall to talk to my father.
Holy shit. My parents are splitting up. I debate whether I should help her defend herself to my dad or stay out here, but a few minutes later, she returns with red-rimmed eyes. “You can go in now. I’m going to pack.” She kisses me on the cheek and heads for the stairs.
I stand there like a statue, wondering what the hell just happened. My problems seem insignificant compared to what my mom is going through, but that thought gives me the courage to go to my father’s office.
He’s on speakerphone with someone. His voice is soft, almost sweet. It’s a tone I’ve only ever heard him use with our horses. “Yeah, sugar. I’ll be by there this weekend.” He chuckles like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“I’m sorry she’s so upset,” a woman says.
Oh my God. It’s his affair partner. Something about her voice sounds familiar.
“She’ll survive. I’ll get Abilene a house in the Florida Keys, and she’ll be out of our hair. Then you can come back to Wild Heart.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Vernon.”
“Sure it is. Abilene won’t be here to give you a hard time anymore.”
I stand there, aghast at this man I used to adore. “Are you talking about my mother?” The words are out of my mouth before I think better of it.
His eyes cut to me, and that soft voice disappears. “I have to go,” he says to his sidepiece. “I’ll see you this weekend.” He ends the call. Before I can say anything, he pours himself a shot of whiskey. “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”
I laugh. It starts as a chuckle, but it builds until I can barely breathe. I have to slap my hand over my mouth to stop. “Are you serious right now? You’re the one stepping out on your marriage, and you think eavesdropping is rude? What the fuck, Dad?”
“Watch your mouth, little girl.”
“Or what? You’ll ground me? You’ll cut up my credit cards? You’ll treat me like I’m a broodmare instead of your daughter?” I wipe my eyes as I shake my head. “It’s funny. I came here today worried that I might upset you with what I have to say, but it turns out I don’t care if I do.”
His expression grows thunderous, but I cut him off before he can say anything. “You shouldn’t be drinking. You’re going to ruin your kidneys. Mom told me you’ve been on dialysis.”
“That woman.”
“That woman who’s birthed your children and fed you and wiped your ass for decades. Yes, that woman.” I grab the bottle of Macallan on his desk and head for the small sink. My father loves his alcohol so much, he had a bar installed in his office because he couldn’t walk twenty feet to the kitchen. I uncap the bottle and tip it down the drain.
“That’s a thirty-year-old bottle of whiskey! It cost almost five grand.”
