Chapter 18
ROMAN
The sound of Aurora clearing her throat is the first noise either one of us has made for the last five minutes.
The ticking of the clock is steady in the background, and the rustling of papers accompanies us too as I read through the rest of the letters—the ones Aurora passed me wordlessly when I held out my hand for them.
She was right, of course, when she said Elabeth—it’s plainly Elabeth’s name at the bottom of the letter, her handwriting in every one of these declarations of love.
But Elabeth Henson was my grandmother’s sister. My grandmother was Katherine—Kitty, the younger sister who went to visit friends in St. Louis as reported by Elabeth.
Based on what I’ve read in these letters, it’s not hard to guess what happened.
Somehow I still want to ask my dad about it anyway. There’s a distinct feeling of wrong-footedness tangled in my chest, not necessarily upset but definitely confused.
Grandma left me this house. I remember her as brisk but loving in her own way. Was she someone who would have had an affair with her sister’s boyfriend?
I guess, when I think about it further, there was maybe an air of resentfulness about her sometimes—or maybe I’d call it discontent.
But what ever happened to Elabeth? I don’t know much about her, and I don’t remember ever meeting her. She clearly didn’t end up with Goddard.
That feeling of being thrown off-kilter intensifies, and I reach into my pocket for my phone. Then I trail over to the couch, sitting heavily and sinking into the cushions.
Aurora follows me a few seconds later, and although she still hasn’t spoken, I can see her thoughts on her face.
She’s uncomfortable, maybe even pitying. It’s an expression I don’t like receiving from her. Incredibly, miraculously, I kept waiting for that look when she was here force-feeding me ibuprofen and ramen, but it never showed.
The sofa dips as she settles next to me, close enough that my heart gives an extra thud or two.
She’s dressed casually, but it doesn’t diminish her beauty; if anything, it increases it.
She’s more real like this, wearing everyday clothes instead of office wear—a soft-looking t-shirt, the cardigan I left on her doorstep, and leggings.
Her hair is in a ponytail, revealing the slope of her neck, and there’s a faint glisten over her golden skin that stirs something inside me, something alarmingly strong.
I could turn to the side and kiss her right there, beneath the curve of her jaw—
“Whoa.” The word slips out unbidden as I startle at the direction of my thoughts.
I see her glance over at me from the corner of my eye, but I don’t look at her, because I’m feeling uncharacteristically warm all of a sudden.
Dad. I’m calling my dad. This idea is enough to splash me with a bucket of ice water. “I’m calling my father about Kitty and Elabeth,” I tell Aurora as I pull the number up. “He can probably tell me more. Are you sticking around?” When I receive silence, I add, “I don’t care either way.”
She still doesn’t answer, so I give in and look at her. There’s a conflicted expression on her face, one that makes me grin.
“Stay if you want to,” I tell her, because she’s clearly torn. “I’ll put it on speaker.”
When she gives a grudging nod, my smile widens.
“Don’t you get tired of pretending like you don’t care about things?” I say, shaking my head. “Ask for what you want. The worst that can happen is I say no. No harm done.”
“I don’t—” she begins as I press the button to put the phone on speaker. “I don’t do that.”
“Yes, you do,” I say. “You hate that you care, so you pretend you don’t.” When she starts to respond, though, I wave my hand at her; a second later, my dad answers the phone.
“Roman,” he says by way of greeting, his voice blaring abrasively into my quaint, grandmotherly home. He’s clearly busy, but I speak anyway.
“I have a question,” I say. “About Grandma.”
He gives a distracted hum, which I take as an invitation to proceed.
“Did she and Grandpa have an affair? I found some letters here while I was cleaning out Grandpa’s desk, but they’re love letters between Goddard and your aunt. Elabeth. They’re definitely from before Grandma and Grandpa got married.”
A grunt filters down the line now. “There was something like that. My mother and aunt were estranged. They didn’t speak, and no one ever talked about it.” The sound of rustling papers finds me, and then my father speaks again. “You remind me of him, you know. Your grandfather.”
I blink, my brow furrowing at the unexpected turn. “What?”
“Me when I was younger, too,” my dad goes on, his voice grudging. “Very charismatic. Handsome—you get that from me, of course.”
I roll my eyes. So does Aurora, but a little smile touches her lips, too.
“Drake men tend to skate by on our charm.” My father says this very reasonably, something he’s long since accepted. “Not sure it’s a good thing, but there you go. Your grandfather tried to settle down for real, once, but it didn’t quite work out.”
“Yeah,” I say disbelievingly, “because he slept with his fianceé’s sister.” Swallowing, I add, “That’s what happened, isn’t it? He got Kitty pregnant, so they got married, and he settled down with her instead of Elabeth.”
The only response to this question is another grunt, acknowledging this time. “Your mother would have liked to settle down earlier, I expect,” my dad says. “Still, we got there in the end.”
I’m not sure I agree, because he wasn’t faithful to my mother. “Is what you did considered settling down?” I ask.
The question is spoken vaguely, because my mind is skittering turbulently. I can handle a distasteful past. But I resent being told I’m like a distasteful man.
“Maybe, maybe not,” my father says noncommittally.
Which, of course, is no surprise. Commitment has never been his strong suit.
“Regardless. Elabeth stayed away, on her own,” he goes on. “Very bitter. Never married or anything like that.”
“So you were the product of an affair.”
Aurora jabs me with her elbow, and I wince as I push her away. My father, when he answers me, sounds more curt than I expect—the only indication that he doesn’t feel as blasé as he sounds. “If you want to put it that way, sure.”
All right. It was an insensitive question.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“No matter.” But his words are still short. “If there’s nothing else?”
“Nothing else,” I say with a sigh.
“I hope you’re not lounging about. Get a job if you’re not going to work with me. Contribute to society. Don’t be a burden.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say. “Bye—”
But the line goes dead as my father hangs up.
“Welp,” I say under my breath as I hang up too, tossing the phone past Aurora and onto the cushion beside her. “There’s that, I guess.”
We sit in silence for a second, a pocket of time that stretches long. I’m only startled out of my wandering thoughts when I feel a light touch on my back—the gentle patting of a small, warm hand.
I glance over at Aurora with interest. “What are you doing?”
She clears her throat, her gaze shifting away from mine. “I don’t know. Consoling you, I guess.”
I raise my eyebrows, and her uncomfortable expression turns into one of defensiveness.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says. “I just thought—” She breaks off, swallowing, and then smooths her face into something more normal. “It’s sort of sad, that’s all. But if you’re not—”
“I am,” I say quickly as she tries to pull her hand away. I reach around my shoulder and grab her wrist—gently, because I’m not a caveman—and say, “I am. I’m devastated. Pat my back some more.”
She arches one brow at me, her eyes skeptical. “I didn’t peg you as the type to beg for scraps of affection.”
“I’m not, normally,” I admit. “I don’t see the point. But this is a special moment of emotional weakness.” Then I let go of her wrist and tap my own back. “I need consoling. See?”
And although she snorts, her lips twitch too. “You’re clearly just fine.”
It’s not entirely true, but I don’t correct her. She reaches out and places her hand on my back anyway, her touch gentle even though her expression isn’t. It only lasts for a few seconds; then she pulls her arm back and lets it fall to her side.
“I’m stopping now. You’re perfectly okay.”
“You know, I think you’re meaner to me than you are to other people. I could be torn up about this sordid family secret. My heart could be breaking.”
Another snort. “Is it?”
“Well…no,” I admit, although it’s more complicated than a yes or a no. “Not really.”
She nods with satisfaction.
“I’m not even sure I’m surprised,” I go on, “given my dad’s…”
But I don’t finish the sentence. I don’t know how. Given his…entire person? His whole personality? His relationship history?
“My dad is a good boss, isn’t he?” I say.
“I’ve never dealt with him,” Aurora says as her shoulders twitch into a little shrug. “Just Denice.” After a brief pause, she adds, “And you, I guess. But I’ve never noticed any problems. And probably more tellingly, the company is doing well.”
I nod. “Yeah. I think he’s a good boss. He lives and breathes work. But he’s maybe an iffy father, and he was a horrible husband.” Then, as another idea occurs to me, I find myself saying, “He might be a good grandfather. I hope he is.”
“People aren’t black and white—good or bad, wrong or right,” Aurora says. “Probably not your grandmother and grandfather, either.”
I hum in agreement.
We’re quiet for a second, and then Aurora adds, “I don’t think you would remind me of your grandfather, if I met him.”
She says it easily, matter-of-factly, but I can see in her gaze that she knows this is what’s really bothering me.
I sigh, my shoulders slumping. “Maybe not. I don’t know. I am charming.”
Her pink lips curve into half a smile at my weak humor. “You have your moments, I suppose.”
I scrub my hand down my face. “Talk about sad. Elabeth spent her whole life mourning and resenting her sister,” I say, to change the subject. “But all she had to show for being right was that she died alone.”