I sat in my usual chair, across from my mother. A steaming plate of food waited for me on fine china, and I grimaced as the mouth-watering smel invaded my nose. I realized I hadn’t eaten since five o’clock the evening before. I was famished, but couldn’t eat.
“Aren’t you hungry, dear?”
I furrowed my brow and stabbed a carrot with my fork. Her strained politeness would soon be chipped away and al the pleasantries would cease.
“Not real y.”
“Wel , why not?” I waited for the right words to come and she rol ed her eyes with impatience. “Real y, Nina. You know I don’t like it when—”
“Has Daddy always been a criminal, or was it something he took up just before he died?” I blurted out, unconcerned with the consequences.
Cynthia’s fork fel to her plate with a shril clang. She didn’t say anything for a long while. We both held our breath, waiting for the other to speak.
“What…did you say?” she final y whispered.
“You heard me.”
“No. I don’t believe I did. I’m sure you misspoke,” her eyes fluttered as she ended her sentence.
“Port of Providence.” I sat slightly forward in my chair, watching her expression change from insult to shock.
“What? Where did you hear th—,” Cynthia stopped mid-sentence and shook her head. She was flustered, which she rarely experienced.
“I saw the file, Mother. Was it organized crime, or did he just skim off the top at the docks? You know his payrol was ful of dirty cops, right?”
“Nina Elizabeth Grey! You wil shut your mouth this instant!” I could see the wheels in her head turning, and then she stood up to come to my side of the table, sitting beside me. “You saw files. What files?” I could tel her fury was subdued, she would address my disrespect later.
“The files locked in the hutch in your study, Mother. Stop playing dumb.”
Her eyes tightened; my rudeness narrowly outweighed her curiosity. “I’ve never played dumb in my life, Nina. Why on earth would you—,”
“I want the truth.” I didn’t let my eyes move an inch from her gaze.
“I didn’t bother myself with your father’s business dealings,” she said, turning away.
“But you know what I’m talking about when I say Port of Providence, don’t you?” My accusing eyes bored into her.
Cynthia nodded slightly. “That’s not something you want to admit to having knowledge of, Nina. Forget you saw any of that,” she whispered.
“Forget—,” I was in shock. My father was a…a….criminal? A thief? My face twisted into disgust. “He stole from the distributors he shipped for, he sold things on the black market, he smuggled il egal contraband, and he used cops to cover up his dirty work…police officers, Mother! Al of which he gathered evidence against to keep them from turning on him!” My eyes glossed over with anger. “Everything we have is from blood money. Jack had people beaten…he’s had people kil ed.”
Cynthia wiped a tear and looked down at her lap. This took me off-guard; I had only seen my mother cry a handful of times, al of them fol owing Jack’s accident and death.
“Oh, Jack,” she whispered, shaking her head slowly. She looked at me with sympathetic eyes, “You were never supposed to see those things, Nina.
Your father was always so careful to keep you safe from that part of his life. He hasn’t been gone six months and I’ve failed him.” Cynthia rose to her feet and walked slowly to the door.
I pushed myself away from the table and cal ed after her. “Tel me I’m wrong, Mother. I need you to tel me this is a mistake.” My voice was closer to begging than the firm tone I’d meant to take.
Cynthia didn’t turn around; she wiped another tear and sighed.
I took a deep breath and braced myself. “Charles Dawson wants those files.”
“He knew where they were?” she shrieked, flipping around.
Anger surged through me. “You know who he is?”
“He worked for your father,” she said, touching her mouth nervously in thought.
I sat up higher in my chair, my muscles rigid. “Why is he harassing me, Mother? Why aren’t you upset about that?”
“Nina, Dear,” her tone turned soft, “I told you. Your father did everything in his power to keep you removed from his dealings. I understand you were frightened; but you were safe, I promise.”
“What does that mean? Why won’t anyone give me a straight answer?”
Cynthia tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, the way she did when I was little. “Wouldn’t you agree that after tonight, some things are better left unsaid?”
My immediate reaction was to scream at her and demand the truth, but she was right. I had lost my father again tonight, the reverence I’d once felt for him was replaced with debilitating disappointment. It was worse than losing him to death. Al perception I’d had of him had been ripped away.
He was no longer God in my eyes, he was just a man; a flawed, corrupt man.
I considered Cynthia’s suggestion and nodded.
She lifted my chin. “I’m so sorry, Love.”
“I’ve got to get out of here,” I blurted, turning away from her touch. Everything I knew was a lie. I left her alone to fetch my coat.
“Where are you going?” she cal ed after me.
“For a walk,” I said, bundling myself inside my hat and gloves.
“It’s freezing outside, Nina! Be reasonable! Please let Robert drive you!”
I yanked my purse over my shoulder and jerked open the door. “I’l walk to the bus stop and catch a ride to Brown. I’l cal you when I get there.” I avoided her inevitably pleading eyes as I marched outside, slamming the door behind me.
Winter exploded in my face. The air was too cold to breathe, burning my nose and throat with each gasp of air that I took in. The wind had picked up and the large snowflakes whipped around me. My hair thrashed against my face and I squinted as the icy wind blurred my vision.
I tried to sort al of the new information, but the freezing air along with my anger blocked any rational thought I could have. I reached the end of the drive and trudged into the street, walking as fast as my legs could carry me. My home had become a dark, wicked thing where corruption and scandal took place. I couldn’t bring myself to look back, even though I had no intentions of returning.
When the painful burn from the wind began to wane to a numbing sensation, I heard a vehicle slow down beside me. I continued to walk; I wasn’t in the mood to explain myself or argue with Robert. He was less capable of changing my mind than my mother.
“Nina?”
I knew that voice. It belonged to the one person I wanted to see. When I came to a stop, so did his SUV.
“I’m taking the bus, Jared,” I said, looking straight ahead.
“No, you’re not. I’ve come to take you home.”
I stood perfectly stil except for the occasional weaving when the wind attempted to knock me over.
“Nina, it’s freezing outside,” he said, impatient.
When I didn’t budge, Jared opened his door and walked over to me. He stared at me for a moment and then bent down, sweeping me into his arms. He carried me to the passenger side, pressing his warm lips to my forehead.
He placed me gently into the seat and paused. “What were you thinking?”