“And my riddle’s solved.” I laughed gently. “There’s only one more thing to do.”
“What’s that?”
I looked up and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to need to borrow your plane again.”
Chapter 28
Melanie
Mother stared at me from across the kitchen table. A glass of wine sat at her right hand, half empty. Her eyes were focused, but red-rimmed, like she’d barely slept. The house was cold and quiet. Nervosa waited in the other room.
“I talked to Uncle Cedric,” I said, speaking slowly and purposefully. I didn’t want her to grab the initiative from me and somehow twist this around. “He told me what happened with your father.”
Her eyebrows arched. “And what happened?”
“He told me about that night. The pillow. He said he covered for you all these years. That’s why you left, isn’t it?”
She didn’t react. She lifted the wine to her lips and sipped. She put it back down. “Is that what he said?” She sounded like she could’ve been asking about the plot to a movie.
I put her diary and the letter she wrote Uncle Cedric on the table. “I know, Mother. These make it obvious. Only I didn’t put it together until I talked to Cedric, and he explained it all.”
She reached out and took the diary. She laughed softly, shaking her head as she paged through it. “I was wondering where this went.”
“I found it. I know I shouldn’t have read it, but in my defense, I didn’t realize it was yours until it was too late.”
“This explains a lot. You never would’ve been curious about grandfather if it weren’t for this.” She tossed the diary down and drank more wine.
I hesitated, searching for the words. My mother had always been distant and difficult. She was an oppressive force in my life, more like a taskmaster than a parent. She loomed large and impossible, casting a long shadow over all my memories.
I loved her. I couldn’t help it. Father was an abusive prick, but Mother never hurt me. She tried to stop Father more than once, but that hadn’t worked out too well for anyone. After a while, she simply receded from the world and gave up. She seemed to have lost herself, and was unable to find it again.
I wanted to bring her back, if I could.
“Daddy was like your Dad, wasn’t he?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t compare your father—”
“He was a violent asshole. You remember how he used to be, don’t you? Before Redmond killed him. You weren’t angry when Redmond murdered his own father. Why was that?”
“Melanie.” Her tone was sharp. Warning. “Stop it.”
“You weren’t upset because you knew Daddy deserved to die. I knew it too, and I was happy Redmond pulled it off. He’s a better head of the family than Daddy ever was, and Redmond doesn’t beat the shit out of me when he drinks.”
“Enough.” She slammed her palm flat on the table.
“I don’t blame you,” I said, looking away. “What Daddy did? I don’t think it was your fault. You couldn’t have stopped it.”
“I know that.”
“You tried once. I remember. He hit you so bad, your face swelled up for weeks. You didn’t leave your room much after that. You still don’t, but Daddy’s dead. You can come out.”
Her eyes blinked rapidly, but she shook her head. “I come out.”
“I know you killed your father. I know he was abusive. I know he hurt you and deserved it. That’s why you didn’t get mad when Redmond did the same thing. You saw yourself in him, and you approved on some level, didn’t you?”
She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I should’ve killed him myself,” she whispered. “But he was too strong. Daddy was a drunk and it wasn’t hard to make him go away. Your father had more control than that. I couldn’t do it.”
“Nobody blames you.”
“I don’t need you to. I blame myself.” She finished her wine and stood. “My mother did nothing to stop my father, and I swore I’d never do that if I were in her position. And yet here I am.”
“You were powerless. We all were, except Redmond, and he didn’t act until years later.”
“You don’t have to defend me, darling. I’ve already convicted myself a dozen times. I am my own judge, jury, and executioner, and the sentence has been set.”
“Mommy.”
“Don’t.” She walked across the room but paused before she left and looked back. “I love you, honey. I’m sorry your father was a bastard, and I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything about it. I killed my father, and I’m glad Redmond killed my husband. That’s just the tragedy of life, isn’t it?” She left, taking the back stairs up to her room.
I sat at the table staring at the diary for a long time. Tears rolled down my cheeks, picturing my mother torturing herself over this. I couldn’t blame her for disappearing into her room and drowning herself in wine. She seemed like a miserable person, because she was. She’d been through so much, and now she was suffering the consequences of the violence that’d been forced on her and those she loved most.