The Daughter. BEVERLY BARTON
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had been out shopping and Viola had answered the doorbell’s ring. Carolyn had inquired who their visitor was and then insisted that Judy come up for a visit.
‘I get out rarely,’ Carolyn had said. ‘Especially not in this hot weather. It’s such a delight to have a visitor. Come, sit and chat with me awhile.’
The woman was Webb Porter’s wife, and that very fact made Judy uncomfortable in her presence. But she had stayed twenty minutes. As usual, Carolyn was charming. A true Southern lady. But as usual, Judy felt an underlying tension in Webb’s wife.
The moment Judy started down the back staircase, she met Webb. Her heart leaped to her throat. She had prayed she wouldn’t run into him. What would she say? How should she act?
‘Judy?’
‘Hello, Webb.’
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘Jeff Henry sent me over with some homemade bread for Carolyn. He’s aware that it’s a favorite of hers.’
Webb stopped his ascent. Judy continued down the stairs. When she passed him, he reached out for her, but dropped his hand to his side before actually touching her.
‘I’d like to talk to you,’ he said.
‘I don’t think we have anything to talk about.’
‘Please, give me a few minutes of your time.’
She forced herself to look him squarely in the eye, but regretted the action when he stared at her pleadingly. Don’t let him get to you, she cautioned herself. Webb Porter knows how to charm a lady. But this man is your son’s enemy and don’t you forget it.
‘What do you want to talk to me about?’ she asked.
‘Would you come downstairs with me? We can talk in my study.’
‘We can talk in the kitchen, on my way out,’ she told him.
‘If that’s what you prefer.’
‘It is.’
He followed her down the back stairs and into the kitchen. She paused by the door. ‘What is it?’
‘Ella has received three disturbing phone calls and two obscene, threatening letters since Reed was paroled.’
Judy gasped. ‘Are you saying that you think Reed made those phone calls and sent those letters?’
‘Yes, that’s exactly what I think.’
‘You’re wrong. Dead wrong. Just like you were wrong about him slitting Junior’s throat fifteen years ago.’
‘You’re Reed’s mother. I’d expect you to defend him.’
‘And you’re the man who prosecuted him for murder. I’d expect you to suspect him. But I’m telling you that all Reed wants is a second chance. He’s not going to do anything to mess up his parole.’
‘I hope you’re right. But I think you should caution Reed to stay away from Ella.’
‘Stay away from … Are you saying that Reed’s been bothering Ella?’
‘They made contact and it upset Ella.’
‘What do you mean they made contact?’
‘After she received the first letter, Ella confronted Reed.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Judy tilted her chin and glared at Webb. ‘If you’re so worried about Reed contaminating Ella, then perhaps you should tell your daughter to stay away from my son.’
Judy left hurriedly while Webb Porter stood there, mouth agape. She closed the door quietly behind her, ran from the back porch and down the brick sidewalk. Her head throbbed. Her heart raced. Damn Webb Porter. Damn him to hell and back.
Webb didn’t move for several minutes after Judy Conway’s hasty departure. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but he should have known that it would be useless to ask her to warn Reed to stay away from Ella. Judy had been Reed’s staunchest defender during his trial, and whatever goodwill there had been between Webb and her before then had come to an end when Reed had been convicted of Junior’s murder.
He would never forget the night she came to him, pleading for him to have the police search elsewhere for her dead husband’s killer.
‘Someone else killed Junior,’ she had said. ‘I swear to you that Reed didn’t slit his throat. He beat him to within an inch of his life, yes, but he didn’t come back later while Junior was unconscious and murder him.’
Webb had wanted to help her. More than she would ever know. But how could he, when all the evidence pointed clearly to Reed? Webb had despised Junior Blalock almost as much as Reed had. He’d never understood what Judy had seen in that white trash drunkard. He realized how hard it had been for her trying to raise two children on her own, but marrying Junior had only added to her troubles, not relieved them. Of course, Junior had been a good-looking devil and had possessed a certain amount of crude charm. But he’d been a sleaze – a wife beater and a child molester. Webb cringed at the thought of that slimy bastard touching sweet little Regina. If back then Webb had ever suspected that Junior had tried to rape Regina, he wasn’t sure what he would have done to the man. You would have killed him, a nagging inner voice said.
‘Yes, I would have killed him,’ Webb said aloud.
The intercom buzzer sounded. ‘Webb? If you’re there, dear, would you please come upstairs. I haven’t seen you since breakfast this morning.’
Webb froze to the spot. There had been a time, long ago, when he had loved the sound of Carolyn’s voice: soft, sultry and honey-coated Southern. But that had been a lifetime ago. Now, the sound irritated the hell out of him. There were times when he couldn’t bear even being in the same room as her. She was clinging and whiny and needy, so very needy. He had loved her once, but that, too, had been a lifetime ago. He pitied her. He had stayed married to her out of duty and obligation. Carolyn knew why he stayed, but she didn’t seem to mind why he remained her husband, just as long as she could be, now and forever, Mrs Webb Porter. She claimed to love him and, in her own way, perhaps she did.
They both loved Ella, the one good thing in their lives. But how many times had the truth about Ella’s bloodlines haunted him? How often had he wondered exactly how Carolyn would feel about Ella if she knew the truth about their adopted child? If his wife knew about Ella’s true parentage, would she hate their daughter? But there was no reason for Carolyn to ever know the truth. And no reason for Ella ever to learn about her biological mother and father. Her adoption had been private – handled by the Porters’ family lawyer, Milton Leamon, Webb’s cousin. And thankfully, Ella had never asked any questions about her natural parents.
‘Webb? Webb?’ Carolyn called again and again.
With slumped shoulders, he left the kitchen and headed up the back stairs. When he reached Carolyn’s closed door, he hesitated, then knocked. Viola opened the door. The woman glared at him. She had the look of an army sergeant. Hard as nails, tough through and through. Viola could be unpleasant and aggravating, but she was devoted to Carolyn. He didn’t know what they would have done without the woman these past thirty-one years.
‘Please come in, Mr Porter.’ Viola moved out of his way. ‘Miss Carolyn is quite eager to see you.’
Viola walked past him, leaving him alone with his wife. Carolyn sat propped up in the bed, pillows surrounding her. She was still a lovely woman. He tried his best to be devoted and caring. Occasionally he even shared her bed. But Carolyn’s paralysis kept her from fully enjoying sex, so their intimate moments together lacked any real satisfaction for either of them. If he loved her, it would have been different. But he didn’t love her. He hadn’t loved his wife in over thirty years. If he ever confessed that to anyone, they would assume it was because of her condition. But they would be wrong.
‘Darling, there you are. What kept you so long? Viola heard you