chapter 11 #2
Elijah was estranged from his adult children. My sister and I had stepped in to fill in the gap, splitting duties. Erica handled his health care, while I took care of his finances.
“I don’t want to talk about that shit. Tell me what’s going on with you,” he asked. “I’ve been hearing some things about you.”
I met his waiting gaze. “What did you hear?”
He lifted a curious brow. “A baby in Wellspring?”
Laughing, I shook my head. “You know that’s not me, Unc.”
The man in front of me, even though we weren’t blood related, was the only man I’d ever considered my uncle. He was far from perfect. Never held down a real nine-to-five job. And he was always involved in some shady shit. But when I needed him, he showed up. Even from jail.
“Sure?” he asked.
“Positive.”
“Well, that social media page keeps telling all your business. Sounds like you keep fucking up to me. Every time I look online, I see something about you. Public altercations at bars, random women claiming to have your baby, and then that whole craziness with Bishop Garland’s daughter.
That Ms. Tea got you looking like a no-good asshole. You’re on thin ice with Joyce.”
I froze. “What?”
“If you’re not careful, you’re going to get fired.”
Granny couldn’t stand Elijah. There was no way she’d tell him anything about Batchelor Corp. “How do you know that?”
“I know people. I always told you … jail don’t stop nothing.”
Again, Albany’s words came back to remembrance. Elijah still had connections in the city. Even when he was in jail, he always seemed to know when I was fucking up. Almost like he had a tail on me or something.
He can’t be …
Nah, it was impossible. One thing about Unc, he loved me like a son. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me or Erica.
“How is Albany?”
Once again, I glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
“I heard she was back in town.”
I rubbed my head. “Yeah, she’s home.”
“When were you going to tell me?”
“I wasn’t,” I admitted. “We live separate lives.”
“Is that what you call it?”
The feeling that something wasn’t right amplified.
It was one thing to know online gossip. Anyone with a smartphone could find out information, but Albany hadn’t even told her own parents where she’d moved.
She kept a low profile, barely left the house unless it was work related.
She moved like a ghost, seemingly disappearing into thin air sometimes.
I knew that because I’d tried to follow her after we ran into each other at the café.
Leaning back in my chair, I surveyed him. “How did you know she was back?”
He hunched a shoulder, but didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “Her divorce is final, right?”
“I guess.”
“Don’t you think you need to make your move?”
A grin tugged at my mouth. “What makes you think I want to?”
“I know you.” He chuckled. “Some things never change. You’ve loved that girl practically your entire life.”
He wasn’t wrong. My feelings for Albany were as strong as they were the day I left her. Even after all this time, I still only knew two things to be true.
My family was fucked up.
Albany Keyes was everything.
“I hurt her,” I murmured.
“We all mess up good things. Your father loved your mother, but he didn’t deserve her. If he would’ve lived, they wouldn’t have lasted because he was a flawed man.”
Snorting, I said, “That’s an understatement.”
“Wesley,” He squeezed my hand. “You have so much anger toward your father, and I understand why. There are things you will never know, things you should never want to know. But you should never doubt that he loved you. And he would’ve never left you on purpose.”
The rumors of suicide had fueled my anger over the years because it made sense. The possibility of life in jail could’ve made anyone want to end it. But Elijah had always maintained there was something more to the story. Still … “I don’t care. He’s not here now. He wasn’t shit before he died.”
Elijah’s shoulders sagged. “You’ll never be able to move on if you keep holding on to this.”
“I’m not angry,” I said. “It’s just the truth. Cedric cared more about his business—all of them—than his family. We lived in fear for months because of him.”
“No. There was plenty of reasons for your mother to leave town. One of them was John Batchelor. If I’ve never told you anything, remember this. Never trust him. Never.”
Frowning, I stood up. The change of subject was abrupt. One minute we were talking about Ms. Tea. Next minute, he was talking about Albany. Now, John. I tried to remember that he was old and sick, but damn. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“So much,” he confessed softly. “Maybe one day you’ll hear what I’m trying to say.”
“Are you telling me John killed my father?”
Elijah used his cane to push himself to his feet.
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m telling you not to trust your uncle”—he gave me a strong hug—“and make sure you keep your business offline.” His expression softened.
“And move heaven and earth to get your girl back. Life is hard enough. You definitely don’t want to grow old alone. ”
Without a word, he shuffled toward his bedroom, grumbling something about salmon patties and dirty towels.
“Where are you going?” I called after him.
“To use the bathroom. I’ll talk to you later.”
Once I heard the bedroom door close, I took his empty glass to the sink, washed it and set it on the drying cloth. I cleaned the table, swept the floor, then left.
On the way out, though, I pulled out my phone and typed out a text: Meet me on the roof. Eight o’clock.