I thought she was going to smack Valerie, so I lunged forward to grab her arm, but Gladys slipped away from me and wrapped herself around Valerie. She held her daughter and rocked back and forth as if Valerie were still a little girl. They both cried. Never having seen this kind of emotion from Gladys, I held my seat, stunned, wondering what they had gone through together: mother and daughter guarding a secret, Gladys not knowing the whole truth, and Valerie too afraid to confide in anyone.
For several minutes, I stayed quiet while they held each other and cried, then I noticed Gladys' body straighten and return to her normal stiff posture. She guided Valerie back into the chair and then turned to me. "He won't get away with this."
My spine tingled at the sight of a woman I'd thought I knew. I had expected her to deny it, to cover scandal, to blame me, but her eyes flashed with blue fire, and I knew her anger wasn't directed at me. Gladys turned back to Valerie and touched her face as if she stroked fine silk. "Stay here," she commanded with such gentleness it sounded like a question.
I jumped up. "I'm going with you."
Her eyes flashed at me, then the fire receded. "Take care of your mother. I'll take care of Vernon."
"But, I want to be there," I almost pleaded. "I'm not a child anymore. This is about Valerie and me. I have a right-"
"Okay," she conceded before I could finish. "But you must control your temper. I know how to deal with him." She thought for a moment. "Yes, you should be there. He will face what he did to my daughter and me, and to my grandson."
I smiled at her, glad that she was on my side. We walked out to my car, and I waited while Gladys said a few words to Dad, then I opened the passenger side door. She smiled at my newfound manners for her. The short drive to Vernon 's home on Queens Road allowed Gladys time to remind me to let her do the talking and to stay calm no matter what he said. Along the way, I thought about the arguments and tension between us; she had wanted to protect me from this secret, to keep Valerie safe from the rumors and accusing stares of the self-righteous in Charlotte 's society. Maybe telling her I was gay years ago had given her the opportunity to force me to leave, have my own life without the shadow of being the bastard child of the Harris family. I glanced at her, hoping she would spill the reasons for our years of discontent, but her own silent thoughts stilled her as we neared Vernon 's house.
This woman wasn't my mother, but my grandmother. The fact was hard to keep in my mind. All the family relationships I had known for twenty-fives years were false. Panic gripped my gut as I thought about Mark; I hadn't considered any one else besides Valerie and me since I heard the truth, now the revelation that Mark and I were brothers slapped me into reality. I had sex with my brother. All my abomination of incest within the family-Papa Ernest with his daughter, Vernon with Valerie-I had to add Mark and me to the list. Of course, as I turned the car onto Queens Road, I rationalized that two men can't be considered incest; laws against it are there to protect offspring of those relationships. Me, I'm the offspring of incest; twice over-Papa Ernest fathered Vernon, who fathered me. I felt acid bubble up my throat, the bitter bile pushing its way out. I calmed my breathing and dismissed my lineage from my thoughts.
As I pulled the car into Vernon 's driveway, Gladys warned me again, "Let me do the talking."
Aunt Irene opened the door of their sprawling house along the oak-lined street of Charlotte 's elite. Her eyes widened behind her half moon reading glasses. "Gladys, I didn't expect you this time of night."
"I need to talk to Vernon," she said as she pushed her way past her bewildered sister-in-law. I followed, only nodding to my aunt.
We found Vernon in his study, puffing on a cigar, reading through a folder of newspaper clippings. "What the hell are you two doing here? It's almost nine o'clock."
"We know what time it is," I started, but a quick hawk-like look from Gladys stopped me.
" Vernon, I," she glanced at me, "we need to talk to you. Derek, please shut the door; I don't think this is something the rest of the house needs to hear."
I closed the door as Gladys took a seat across from Vernon 's desk. A couch against the wall where I could see them both seemed like a good vantage point for me. Vernon 's jaw muscles twitched as he chomped on his cigar. He looked at Gladys then at me. Gladys poised in her chair, expressionless as a raptor ready to swoop down on her prey. The hate I felt for Vernon had to be contained; Gladys knew how to handle him. I would only end up in jail if I acted on my instincts.
"My daughter had a child at sixteen," she began as if reciting facts from a history book. "I had always believed the father was a high school boy-"
"Now wait one minute." Vernon sat forward. "What kind of lies has Valerie told you?"
"The guilty always deny before the accusation." She stood and placed her hands on his desk, staring into his eyes. "You bastard," she spit the words, "you stole my daughter's innocence and ruined her childhood. I have spent twenty-five years covering up what I thought was her mistake."
I tried not to take the word "mistake" personally.
"But you took what you wanted without thinking who you hurt. I should string you up by the balls." Her face flushed with emotion.
"You listen to me." The cold bastard didn't take his eyes off her. "I didn't do anything she didn't want."
I couldn't stop myself. "You fucking-"
Gladys glared at me, her index finger extended to shut me down. Her head and finger turned to point at him. " Vernon," her voice calm and calculated, "she was a girl of fifteen when you did this. She's your niece. You robbed my family. Your own son," she pointed to me, and my gut ached, "would love to make you pay for this by exposing you to the public."
His face paled, and he laid the cigar in the ashtray.
"But I know what family means to us," she continued, "even though you don't. I don't want this to go public. I don't want to hurt Valerie or Derek anymore." She picked up his folder of newspaper clippings and thumbed through them. "You will resign from the Senate race tomorrow."
"Are you out of your mind?" He came out of his chair and jerked the folder from her hands. "Who the hell are you to come in here and tell me what to do with my life?"
"I'm the mother of the girl you raped." Her controlled voice rumbled through the room.
"I'm not giving up this election," he yelled, "for something that happened twenty-five years ago. It's just her word against mine."
Gladys pushed him back toward the desk with her pointing finger. "You don't have a choice. If I don't attend a press conference tomorrow before noon, I'll hold my own. I have put up with your bullying for too long." Her predator side took over. "You will resign from the campaign, and you will resign from the board of Harris Construction."
He leaned on the edge of his desk, his face white and frozen. The wrath of Gladys had apparently surprised him.
She pushed the folder across his desk. "Something for your scrapbook. Derek," she motioned to me, "let's go. I'm sick of the sight of him."
I opened the study door for her, but she stopped to address Vernon one last time. "I have you by the balls, and I won't let go until they're mine."
A LARGE GROUP of reporters assembled for Vernon 's press conference: television and newspapers from Charlotte, Raleigh, Greensboro, Wilmington, and Asheville. I saw Daniel across the room, and he winked at me.
I stood with Gladys. "So, what should I call you now? Grandma Gladys?"
She shot me a look I had seen too many times before; I had crossed the line. "Mother will do. I don't want this getting out; I bluffed Vernon with taking it public. Valerie doesn't need everyone in this city knowing what happened."
"You're right. Thank you for what you did for her," I hesitated, trying to get the rest of the words out, "and for me."