And y 'all are both lost to me now, Mama in sickness, Trey in death. When maybe I need you the most. Why did God take you both from me? I stared at the floor, not wanting to look at Bob Don. “Pretty silly to get upset about, right?”
“No, it's not,” Bob Don answered softly. “I'd have been embarrassed, too. And you were a sensitive kid. Everyone knew that. Never could abide much teasing.”
My words came in a gush: “I mean, in the whole scheme of my life, that one night doesn't matter. I still loved Daddy, I still do. He was a wonderful father. But he was as capable of hurting me as anyone else.”
Bob Don reflected for a moment. “Your daddy loved you fiercely. Remember that most of all. But he was a man who did what he thought other people wanted him to do. That poker talk probably went around to sex and he didn't think telling that tale on you was breaking a confidence, he probably thought it was just adding to the conversation. Maybe he was proud of you for becoming a young man.”
I shrugged. “If I ever have a son, I'll never do that to him.”
Bob Don finally smiled. “No, you'll make a whole other mess of mistakes he'll complain about. All part of the package, Jordan.” I didn't answer right away and the quiet hung between us.
“By the way,” I said at last, “that cure Lucas Behr recommended-greasing up Mr. Happy. It doesn't work.”
Bob Don exploded in nervous laughter. “I'll keep that in mind,” he said, color rushing into his cheeks.
“And my pants still hurt me sometimes. Like when I look at Candace.” Bantering. I felt the connection between us take hold. I sent a silent wish toward heaven: I'm not betraying you, Daddy, by taking him into my heart. I know I'm not. Please don't hate me. I glanced at the man who gave me life.
“I'm sorry for the trash I talked earlier,” I whispered. “If I could take them back, I would. I believe you loved my mother. And I know she loved you, too. I'm sorry I suggested it was anything cheap.”
“That was your anger talking.”
“Yes,” I said. Other words failed me.
“I'm so sorry I slapped you. I'll never do it again.”
“That's true,” I agreed. I didn't know how to convey the surge in my heart./ have a father again. The jumble of feelings, of hurt and fright and giddiness I'd experienced in the past year smoothed into a warm, mellow sensation of acceptance. “I think when we get back to Mirabeau, I should let folks know that you're my father. I mean, some folks already know, but they don't speak of it. We can speak of it now.”
Tears braced in his eyes. “Okay.”
“I'll keep the name Poteet, if you don't mind.”
“Whatever you want, son.”
“Son,” I echoed. I glanced, almost shyly, at his face. There is no mark of Cain there. I can't believe this man killed his own brother, even in self-defense. And I'm not going to let anything, anything happen to him. “I suppose if you're going to call me son, I should call you something other than Bob Don.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again.
“I'd feel a tad odd calling you Daddy,” I ventured. “What did you call your father?”
He smiled, almost as shyly as I had. “I called him Daddy.”
I laughed. “Of course. Why is it Southerners are so unimaginative with nicknames for parents and so imaginative with nicknames for grandparents?” I thought of the photo of my great-grandfather I'd examined so closely in Lolly's room, seeing so much of his face in mine, and my odd intuition that I would've called him Pop-Pop. “Hey. What about Pop?”
“Ain't pop what Yankees call Cokes?”
“Well, yes,” I answered.
He rolled the word about in his mouth, as though tasting it. “Pop. Well, if that's what you want to call me, I guess I'll get used to it.”
I could tell the endearment wasn't entirely to his taste, and felt an unexpected relief he hadn't adopted it immediately in mindless gratitude-perhaps the days of putting me unreachably aloft were over. We could deal with each other as men now. “Well, why don't we try it out and see how it fits?”
“Okey doke,” he finally said, and then spoke for us both: “This kind of all feels funny, doesn't it?”
“Yes. It's a strange family to be joining.”
A momentary flash passed over his face, as though the mention of the rest of the Goertzes cast a dark shadow across this long-awaited moment. “Oh, God, son. Let's all just leave. Just go back to Mirabeau and pick up our lives. There's nothing for us here.”
“But the investigation-”
He snorted. “I don't care what that judge says, there ain't no reason to keep us here. Anyway, Lieutenant Mendez has left.”
“Left? Left us here?”
“Going soon, if he ain't already.” His voice sounded choked. “He seems certain that those toxicology tests are gonna turn up Jake's medicine, or something else. Seems Lolly sending you those cards convinced him that she took her own life, crazy like she was.”
“Crazy's not enough. Why would she kill herself?” He stood and leaned against the den's bookshelves. I didn't relent: “Someone planted a bag of digitalis pills in my clothes. So if the cops searched, it'd look like I had a stash of poison.”
“I heard Mendez and Mutt talking. Mutt told him that's exactly what Lolly would do to make it look like you killed her. Along with the cards. You can see how crazy she was…” His voice drifted off.
Are you protecting a murderer – Pop? “The only thing crazy is that theory. Lolly didn't want me here for some reason, tried to frighten me away, and when that didn't work, poisoned herself with Jake's medication and tried to frame me for the crime? Listen to yourself, Pop. Mutt's influence might make Mendez buy this, but I don't. Why on earth would she-”
His face set. “Don't ask so many questions. Don't-”
“Fine, I won't.” I'd traveled that road before today and gotten nowhere fast. “So you think we can go soon?” Putting distance between us and Sangre Island felt like putting distance between us and Paul Goertz's death.
“Let's hope. Uncle Mutt's calling a family meeting tonight, after he has himself a long chat with Philip. And Wendy.”
I swallowed. I would not want to be in their shoes, facing Mutt's formidable wrath.
Pop leaned against the shelves. He looked weary to the bone. I wanted to go and embrace him, tell him I knew about the family's dark past, but I didn't. He would have to tell me his secret, on his own terms. I could not ford that deep, harsh river for him. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, then closed it firm.
“You probably need to talk to Gretchen, explain how things are between us. I need to go talk to Candace.”
“Okay, son.” He came forward, and awkwardly embraced me in a bearish hug. The thump of his heart thrummed against my chest and his breath, scented with bourbon, was a warm stream against my ear. For all my famed wit and tongue, I had no words. He did.
“I love you,” he murmured; he kissed the side of my cheek, and embraced me again. He released me after another moment and turned away. I watched him leave the den and felt, for one terrible moment, as if I'd stepped off the edge of a precipice. Gravity was not the only inexorable force in the world. Love's just as potent.
I went upstairs to tell Candace I had a father. And to set in motion the most horrifying night of my life.
19
I didn't find Candace in her room. So I ambled down to Deborah's quarters, thinking she might be visiting my cousin. My cousin. It seemed even more real now that Pop was Pop. I felt light, almost giddy, as though a weight had been lifted from my aching back. The choice to love is frightening, but it's also energizing. I felt like a new man. In many ways, I was.