She nodded, tried to relax, but couldn’t. She said, “What happened, it’s always in the back of my mind, ready to take me by the throat. The hatred I felt pouring off them whenthey were in my bedroom. The man who straddled me—his knife raised, ready to come down.” She drew a deep breath, reached for calm with the square breathing Hurley had taught her. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear that again. Hey, why did your parents name you Roman?”
He shot her a big grin. “I was born in Rome on their honeymoon.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Titus Hitch Wilderness
Sweet Onion River
Thursday morning
Autumn sat with her back against a willow tree, her legs stretched out and her ankles crossed, chewing on a blade of grass. Tash sat beside her on a blanket, a paper lunch bag between them. The June sun was bright overhead, and a cool breeze carried the scent of the Sweet Onion River, not six feet away.
Tash was picking at the beginning of a hole in the knee of his jeans. “Uncle Rebel is really worried about Dad, but he doesn’t want me to know it. I didn’t tell him I eavesdropped and heard everything they said to him.”
Autumn knew all about how to eavesdrop and not get caught. “Well done. Like I told you, when you’re a kid, it’s the only way you can ever find out what’s really happening. I heard my mom and dad talking about your dad last night when they thought I was playing with Big Louie and Mackie. Everyone in Titusville knows those FBI agents were in town last night because they stopped at Willie’s BBQ after they left your uncle Rebel. Willie told my dad one of the agents, a really big guy with a big mouth, was asking around about Rebel. Everyone likes Rebel, so no one had anything to say to him.”
Tash nodded. “Autumn, please tell me the truth. Do you think my father is a crook? Do your parents think my father stole all that money?”
It didn’t occur to her to lie to him, even though Tash was only eight years old. Dillon was right, Tash was really smart, he knew what was what. “My mom said since your father’s the president and founder of the Navarro Investment Fund he could probably do whatever he wanted, including robbing his clients. But she wondered why he’d do that.”
“But you know he didn’t, don’t you, Autumn? He didn’t!”
“No, I don’t think he did, Tash.”
“Do you know when the agents asked Uncle Rebel about Sasha, he called her a trophy wife. What does it mean, Autumn?”
“I think it’s like winning an Oscar. You want everyone to envy you for winning a prize they didn’t. Sasha’s younger than your father and beautiful, so your father married her to show off to all his friends.”
Tash frowned at his scuffed dirty sneaker. “That sounds stupid. My mama wasn’t a trophy wife, was she, Autumn?”
“From what you’ve told me your dad really loved your mom. But maybe he loves Sasha too.”
Tash plucked his own blade of grass and started chewing on it. “I told you Sasha doesn’t like me. When she talks to me, she always sounds fake, her smile is too, but most of the time she ignores me.”
“You don’t need her, Tash. I like you, and your uncle and your dad love you. Why should she have to like you too? You’re not her kid. Maybe she doesn’t like kids.”
Tash chewed harder on his blade of grass. “I heard her tell Dad he should send me to a boarding school. I saw brochures to this school in Connecticut on my father’s desk at home.” He leaned over, picked up his bottle of iced tea, and took a swig. “Dad changed after Mama died. He didn’t laugh anymore, atleast not much. I remember seeing him crying the first Christmas. He was putting a present for me under the tree. I never said anything, just went back to bed and cried too.”
“You both really missed her, Tash.”
“Dad played baseball growing up and he wanted me to learn too, but he even stopped throwing balls with me after she died. He was real quiet, stayed at the office later and later. He always used to come and tuck me in at night and read me stories. He does that only sometimes now. Then after that car accident that didn’t happen and after I told him about singing to Mom when she opened her eyes and spoke to me, I think he was worried I was sick in the head. When we ate together I saw him watching me, but he never said what he was thinking out loud.”
Oh, boy, that sounded tough. Autumn didn’t doubt it was exactly the truth from his little boy’s point of view. She knew everything would change for her, too, if something happened to her mom. She didn’t want to think about it. Autumn closed her hand over Tash’s and squeezed hard. “I wish I’d known your mama, she sounds really nice, a lot like my mama. Tash, it sounds to me like your dad just lost his way a little. But he’ll come back all the way, and in the meantime, you’ve got me and your uncle Rebel.” She opened her paper bag, dug around, and came up with half a bagel. She pinched off a bite, dipped it into the nearly empty cup of cream cheese, and stuffed it into his mouth, then smeared another piece and ate it herself.
They sat in silence looking out over the Sweet Onion River, narrow at this spot, with rocks across it Ethan’s grandfather had lugged there.
Tash said, “Did your folks ever think you were sick, Autumn? Did they ever think you were a freak?”
“Everything was different for me, Tash, because my dad was gifted too. When I was little, lots younger than you, my dad was in jail, and he’d call me with his mind every single day and we’d talk. He didn’t think I was weird at all.”
“You talked with your minds?”
“That’s right. I realize now my mom must have been scared out of her mind I was nuts, but she never let on. Then when Dad died we took his ashes back to his family—the Backmans, in a place called Bricker’s Bowl in Georgia.” She shrugged, tried to act like it was old news and who cared, though it still scared her to remember them. “That’s when Mama realized I really was gifted, and they were too.”
“You have lots of friends. Do you ever want to tell them or show them what you can do?”
Autumn nodded. “Sure, but I know I can’t. My parents are always reminding me the other kids wouldn’t understand, even my good friends. Someday, they say, when I’m an adult, then maybe I’ll want to tell someone I care for, but for now, only you know, Tash—well, you and your uncle.”
