“No. I have better things to do with my time than trade barbs with you.” Tom turned to leave.
“Wait a second.” I grabbed his arm and he stopped. A hint of ire fired his pale eyes and I released his arm. “What other responsibilities demand your attention? Staring out at the sea?”
“I prefer my own company, Jordan. And after you've been around this crew awhile, you might, too.”
“Indulge me. Why does Aubrey hate you?”
“Why do you care?”
“I'm more than a little curious about the rather peculiar relationships pervading this family, now that I'm a member.”
“Then take some familial advice, cuz. Curiosity isn't a Goertz virtue.” His mouth set in vexation and his cheeks reddened. “In fact, curiosity kills.”
“Kills who? Lolly?”
He jerked away and headed off past the greenhouse and down the path. I saw him rub his knuckles against the side of his cutoffs and I realized, with a twinge in my gut, that he was wiping Aubrey's blood off his hands. With as much concern as if he were wiping away water or soda.
Tension infected this family like a deadly strain. Now it had erupted into open violence. Distaste burned in my throat. Just as soon as Aunt Lolly was decently scattered, and I'd done my duty to Bob Don, we'd be off and I'd never have to set foot on this godforsaken island again.
I watched Tom leave. Damn it, I wanted to like him. I thought with his education-Bob Don mentioned he was an oceanographer-Tom and I would have lots in common. Apparently not. He vanished around what Bob Don had called a secondary dune, a sand dune that becomes isolated on the barrier flat, behind the main dune ridge. To me it looked like a small hill, covered with vegetation. Probably he was seeking refuge for when Aunt Sass found out what he'd done to her darling baby angel. I let that consideration die a natural death; Tom wouldn't flinch at anything Sass said. He wore his silence like a snail wears its shell, conveniently attached for retreat.
But Tom could be prodded from that armor with the right ammunition. Aubrey's bloodied face offered proof. The question was, what weapon did Aubrey wield?
I headed back to the house, lost in my own musings, and therefore nearly fell flat on my face. J tripped over a shovel lying near the greenhouse. I mentally chided Rufus for not cleaning up properly. The shovel was in reach of either Aubrey or Tom, had the fight escalated. I picked up the implement myself, knocked the clots from its blade-and noticed sand mixed in with the mud and clay. The dirt smelled vaguely sulfurous. I finished cleaning the shovel and tried the greenhouse door. It swung open.
The greenhouse looked much bigger on the inside. It was elaborate, divided up into four sealed compartments for different levels of warmth and humidity. Plants of all shapes and sizes grew in heady profusion-roses, flowers of many colors, growing foliage that looked common from the mainland but that I couldn't recognize. I found what looked like another room for tools-locked, oddly enough-and set the shovel down.
I wandered toward the back of the greenhouse and found Aunt Sass sitting before a beautifully growing rosebush in one of the compartments. She seemed lost in thought and I paused for a moment, not wishing to disturb her reverie.
She sensed my presence, though, and glanced at me uncertainly, then returned her gaze to the flowering roses. My whole body tensed. Her dislike for me felt as constant as the unending breeze. And I felt tired of being continually defensive. I'd decided to let Bob Don be a father to me-I had to make peace with his loved ones. Might as well tackle the most difficult project first.
I went and sat on the bench next to her, my fingers reaching out for the delicate petals of the rosebush. “This is a really cool greenhouse.”
“It's Jake and Mutt's pride and joy. They're both big on plants.” Her voice was carefully neutral, but at least she wasn't leaving at the sight of me.
“I don't suppose I could interest you in a peace treaty?”
She fidgeted. “I need to go find Aubrey-”
I interrupted her excuse to tell her about the fight outside the greenhouse she'd just missed. I thought for sure she'd bolt to the house to comfort her son. Instead she stared into the unfolding depths of one of the roses.
“And you took up for Aubrey?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
She gave me a crimped smile. 'Thank you.”
“You're welcome.” The ceremonial bows out of the way, I let out a sigh of relief. “I don't know what he said to set Tom's fists flying. Has your cousin always been so short-tempered?”
“No,” she answered after a pause. 'Tom's a slow burn. That's what worries me.” She didn't elaborate for a moment, then added, “Aubrey has an annoying habit of finding someone's weakness and prodding it to see what happens. Then they blow up at him and he offers his pop psychology as an antidote. It's his worst feature.”
“Tom's retreated. I wish I could say he was licking his wounds, but I don't believe Aubrey landed a punch.”
One of her eyebrows arched and she permitted herself a smile. “Don't underestimate Aubrey. Oh, yes, he can sound like a complete jackass when he decides to play the amateur Freud, but he's a tough boy. He's overcome a lot.”
“He didn't seem too cowed by Tom,” I offered. No need to mention Aubrey's spitting-cobra impersonation to Sass. I decided a change of subject was in order. “How's Gretchen feeling?”
“I checked on her a minute ago. She's resting. I'm afraid she'll have a rotten headache when she wakes up.” Sass touched a rose stem and breathed in the flower's perfume. “It'll be worse for a while, now, won't it? Her craving for liquor?”
“I don't know. I would imagine so. I don't think it ever entirely goes away.” I wasn't going to pretend to understand the seduction of alcoholism. I enjoyed a beer or a glass of wine on occasion, but to have an unquenchable need for a beverage-no matter how good it made you feel-was a thirst I didn't understand. The why of Gretchen's drinking was not a question I'd pondered for any amount of time. I should have.
“You knew her when she was drinking?” Sass asked.
“Oh, yes. In the worst way. She was the one who informed me that Bob Don was my father. I hadn't known before then. She was stinking drunk and yelled the news out at me.”
Aunt Sass stayed silent for a long moment. “That's a terrible way to find out such a”-she stumbled for the appropriate word-”revelation.”
“Yes, it is. It was followed by a rather tearful explanation from your brother. I didn't want to believe him.” Gretchen's words, then his words, had slid into my heart like an ice pick gracefully inserted between my ribs.
Silence again. Aunt Sass's lips, red and full, twitched slightly, unaccustomed to holding her words at bay. “He'll be a wonderful father to you, if you'll let him. But if you ever hurt him, ever disappoint him, I'll see that you're sorry for it.”
“Why are there so many threats flying through the air in this house?” I asked, my voice surprisingly mild. “Should I be afraid of you, Sass? I know you don't care much for me.”
“I don't know you. I'm not sure that I want to.”
“Why?” I ventured. I felt suddenly that the spiderwebs of subterfuge were trembling in the building breeze of truth. She and I were on honest ground.
“You're a mistake,” she said softly. “I don't mean to sound cruel, but it's true. My brother had an affair with a married woman and it was horrible for him. Your mother should have stayed in her own bed, with her own man. How she could seduce Bob Don, get herself with child-a son, no less, exactly what Bob Don has always wanted and prayed for-and then blithely go back to her husband and raise Bob Don's child like it wasn't even his? And deny him having diddly to do with you all those years? It's sick and it's selfish and it's mean-hearted.”
Heaviness pressed against my chest. “You don't even know my mother. She was the greatest mother anyone could ask for. It's awful easy to sit in judgment of a stranger.”