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Something sweet, young, wistful and yearning was in his eyes that pleaded for me to come to him. And this time I felt the stirrings of sexuality in my own body, responding to his call. Alarmed by my surprising arousal, I whirled around to leave. I couldn’t let Arden distract me. I had to confront Papa with his thieving ways.
“Arden, you didn’t say anything to Papa about his embezzling funds, did you?”
I heard his sigh. “No. Besides, when I checked the secret compartments in his desk later, they were empty.” He looked toward the windows, his lips tightening, as if he gave up in trying to entice me by doing nothing aggressive, and he said nothing to keep me with him. “I suppose Damian thinks of everything and had some way of detecting when those papers and ledgers were tampered with.”
“Go to bed. I’m going to Papa.”
“I wish you wouldn’t. He’ll wonder how you know.”
“I won’t say anything that will let him know who told me.” I waited for him to protest again, but he turned and headed for the bed. I leaned above him and kissed him good night.
“Audrina…?” he murmured. “Do you really love me? Sometimes in the night I wake up and wonder why you married me. I hope it wasn’t just to escape your father.”
“Yes, I love you,” I said without hesitation. “It may not be the kind of love you want… but maybe one day soon you’ll be surprised.”
“Let’s hope so,” he muttered before he fell into exhausted sleep.
If only I’d stayed in bed that night and given to Arden what he needed. If only I hadn’t thought I could always set everything right.
I expected Papa to be asleep at almost three in the morning. Certainly I didn’t expect to see the thin line of yellow light under his closed bedroom door, any more than I expected to hear his laughter and a woman’s smothered giggle. I stopped short, not knowing what to think or do. Had he been so insensitive as to bring home one of his “playmates,” as Momma used to sarcastically call them?
“Now you stop that, Damian,” said a voice I couldn’t help but recognize. “I’ve got to go now. We can’t risk letting the children find out about this.”
Not for one second did I stop to consider what to do once I knew who it was with him, nor did I think of the consequences of my impulsive actions. I threw open the door and stepped into the dimly lit room that Papa had redecorated since Momma died. Red-flocked wallpaper, with gold-framed mirrors everywhere, made his room seem an opulent eighteenth-century bordello.
They were in bed together, Arden’s legless mother and my father, playing intimately with each other. When they saw me, Billie gasped and snatched her hand away. Papa quickly yanked up the covers to conceal them both. But I’d seen enough.
There was such a red rage in my brain I wanted to scream out every word I was to think of later but not now. All I could do was yell at her, “You whore!” Then at him I hurled, “You filthy son of a bitch! Leave my house, Billie! I never want to see you again! Arden and I are leaving you, Papa, and taking Sylvia with us.”
Billie began to cry. Papa slipped discreetly from the covers and pulled on a red brocade lounging robe. “You silly little girl,” he said easily, not appearing embarrassed at all. “As long as Billie wants to stay she will.”
Insulted, feeling Billie had betrayed me and Arden, too, I whirled about and raced back to my room to find Arden had gotten up from bed to resume his work. However, it had done him little good. He was slumped over on his desk, fast asleep on his papers. Sympathy rushed to erase my anger, and gently I woke him up and helped him off with his robe. Then, with my arm about his waist, I assisted him to the bed, and in his arms I lay as he fell asleep.
All night long I fretted before I reached my conclusion. It wasn’t Billie’s fault—it was Papa’s. He’d seduced her with his gifts, with his charm and good looks, so he could have the kinky thrill of having sex with a legless woman. I couldn’t drive Billie out. It was Papa who had to leave so we could all live decent lives.
And now I had the perfect weapon to force him to go. I’d threaten to expose him for the fraud and embezzler he was. Even if he had hidden the incriminating ledgers, I had all the information I needed about his illegal stock advisory firm in San Francisco—and that alone would be threat enough.
However, it wasn’t to be that way.
Billie came to me early the next day, soon after Arden and Papa had left for work. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen and her face seemed very pale. I turned my back and continued to brush my hair.
“Audrina … please. I wanted to sink through the floor last night when you stormed into his room. I know what you think, but it wasn’t that way, really it wasn’t.”
Viciously I tore the brush through my hair.
“Listen to me, please!” she wailed piteously. “I love Damian, Audrina. He’s the kind of man I always wanted but never had.”
Spinning around, my eyes blazed as I tried to scream out all my anger, but for some reason her tears stopped me. The colors in her eyes made me feel strange, as too many colors always did. She had a habit of always wearing bright clothes: crimson, scarlet, magenta, electric blue, emerald green, purple and bright yellows. Colors flashing … colors and the tinkling wind chimes when trouble came. I put my hand over my ears and closed my eyes, turned my back and refused to hold the gaze that pleaded for my understanding.
“Turn your back and close your mind as well as your ears, but I think he loves me, too, darlin’,” she went on. “Maybe you think because I’m crippled he can’t love me. Still, I think he does, and even if he doesn’t, I’ll just be grateful he gave me a little of what I always wanted—a real man. Compared to him my three husbands were little boys playing at being men. Damian would never have left me, I know he wouldn’t have.”
I had to look at her then, to see if she truly believed her words. Her beautiful eyes pleaded, just as her hands reached out to me. I stepped farther away.
She rolled closer to me. “Listen to what I say. Put yourself in my position, and maybe you’ll understand why I love him. Arden’s father walked out on us the day I lost my second leg. He was a weak man who expected me to support him with my skating. When I couldn’t, he sought out another woman who could. He never writes. He stopped sending child support long before Arden came of age. I had to earn what I could, and you know yourself that Arden has worked like a man since he was twelve, and even before that …”
Don’t! I wanted to yell. What you do with him is ugly, unforgivable, and you should have known better. We were bound to find out, bound to …
