Sex, Lies & Bourbon (Sex and Lies Book 5) Page 14
“How was your relationship with your father after that? Did he ever beat you again?”
I shook my head. “But I didn’t give him much of a chance. I begged to leave for boarding school in the fall and I rarely came home in the summer, always finding something else to do. Jesus, I felt so guilty leaving Lena behind. She was catatonic, in the mental ward and just this tiny little girl who was—lost.”
“Why didn’t you tell Cee Cee?” she asked, taking my hands in hers. “Why didn’t you tell someone?”
I looked around the now completely dark chapel and slid out of the pew, walking to the front of the church. I left Ginny behind, largely because we needed light to get out of there and lock the place up, but also because I’d held the emotion at bay for as long as I was capable. Finding a box of matches by the two large pillar candles at the front of the church I knew were there for the funeral, I struck a match, lighting them both. The yellow light radiated around the room, casting shadows on the wall.
Looking back at Ginny still sitting in the pew, I held my hand out, silently begging her to join me. Watching her glide down the aisle in measured strides, my heart was full. If ever I wanted a woman walking down the aisle toward me at Winterbourne Chapel, it was Virginia Grace. When she whispered my name, every care in the world left me. It was what she did to me.
“Win.”
Taking her hands in mine, I faced her at the alter of the church. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell Cee Cee what happened?”
I dropped my head, slowly bringing my gaze back to her timeless beauty. “If I’d told Cecil Winterbourne my father beat me, he would’ve killed the man with his bare hands and gladly gone to prison, proud of the accomplishment. No, someone needed to be around for Lena. It wasn’t going to be me, but I knew Cee Cee would watch over her.”
She said nothing, merely staring into my eyes. I had a feeling after spending time with Cee Cee today, Ginny understood the kind of man he was—proud, capable and protective. When she didn’t say anything I knew she understood my decision not to tell.
I leaned my forehead into hers and closed my eyes. “God, I’ve missed you Ginny.”
“Win.”
“No—” I stopped her, placing my finger delicately across her lips. “Don’t say anything. I don’t expect you to say anything. I need to say it. We’re in a sacred and holy place, right? I’m speaking from my heart and it feels pretty damn good.”
“Win.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have cursed.”
“Win,” she whined with an edge of exasperation to her voice.
“Sorry,” I replied, placing my hands at her waist, bring her hips into mine. “Did you want to say something?”
“I’ve missed you too.”
I caught my breath. My impulse was to tell her I loved her. Instead, I ran my hands along the muscled ridge of her back, cupping her shoulders. Reveling in the moment I’d fantasized about since we’d said goodbye, I drew her into me. My love for her was absolute.
Some people are born knowing their purpose—artists, musicians, men of the church. It was a calling, something I’d only experienced with Virginia Grace. I was called by something beyond myself in the universe to be by her side. It was undefinable, and yet completely absolute. It was as though the broken pieces of our collective souls were the very glue that made us one—that held us together.
“You know Ginny, I’m truly only me when I’m with you. I’ve been the poor little rich boy my whole life. I had everything but love and a home—even though all of this waited patiently for me. I knew I loved you, Ginny, when home for me meant having you in my arms. You, not Winter Haven, are the only real home I’ve ever known. And it’s not what I feel for you. It’s what I don’t feel for anyone but you. You’re my whole world. My everything. And I’ll die before I let you slip away from me again.”
As she parted her lips to take a breath and respond, I pressed my mouth against hers, tenderly kissing the woman I loved with every fiber of my being. In my mind I willed us to be as one again—and to bring Ginny back to the very spot where we stood and someday make her my wife.
15
WIN
I sat on the edge of my bed staring at the black suit and dark gold Winterbourne tie laid out for me on the chair. My guess was Lena slipped into my room at some point early in the morning. It was her way of saying, you have to look like a Winterbourne today at Dad’s funeral, without saying it. I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to face the day. It would be hours of glad-handing and thanking people for their condolences. I would have to be kind and gracious, two things that weren’t at the top of my personality trait list.
On the writing desk in the corner was the remnants of the eulogy I’d written while drinking a pint of bourbon through the night. The knock of my heart beating in my head let me know I’d over indulged. I’d told myself I’d write a better tribute to my father if my mind was blurred. All it really did was fuel my anger and the general unrest that sprang from being home. I had so few good memories of the place it was like a haunted house to me. Now with both of my parents gone, perhaps that’s exactly what it was—a house of horrors. At the very least, it was a house of horrible events.
I looked to the clock on the wall. It was already noon. How I’d managed to escape the wrath of my sister through the morning hours was beyond me. Perhaps she was tied up with the arrangements. That was fine with me. All I wanted was to deliver the eulogy and get on the plane, taking my life and my rekindled relationship with Ginny back to the Big Apple.
The funeral was in three hours. I needed to reread the eulogy, but instead, I decided to work. I sat at my desk, tossing the four or so handwritten pages aside, noticing the bourbon ring on the last page. God only knew what I’d written.
Instead, I wanted to go through the statements from Lena and Magnus. Ginny had surely uploaded all of it to the file. But when I made it through security clearance and logged in, there was nothing. Nothing on the case other than what was there two days ago when he was murdered. For some reason unknown to me, the Louisville office and Ginny had not been updating the files.
I shut my laptop when someone knocked at my door. “Yes?
“It’s Ginny. Are you decent?”
I looked down at my naked body sitting in the chair. “No, but you can come in anyway as long as you don’t insult my man-parts again.”
“Win,” I heard her moan on the other side.
“Come in,” I said, walking to the bed to wrap the sheet around my waist.
Ginny let herself in and turned to face me. Dressed in a black dress that fit her like a glove and the kind of heels that made her already muscular calves pop, I couldn’t help but smile. I glanced back at the desk with my empty glass and crumpled papers littering my already messy room. “Don’t go anywhere,” I said, holding up one finger and slipping into the bathroom, dropping the sheet. Quickly, I ran toothpaste across my toothbrush, frantically wanting to rid my mouth of last night’s alcohol. I wanted to kiss Ginny good morning without scaring her away for another year.
“What are you doing in here?”
Standing at the sink, I smiled at her, wearing nothing but a foamy smile. “Bruffing ma teef?”
Biting her bottom lip to hold in her laughter, Ginny giggled. I spit, rinsed and wiped my face with a towel, before tossing it to the side and making my way to her in three steps. Pulling her to my naked body, I kissed her neck.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she asked with a soft laugh.
“I was brushing my teeth, and now,” I mumbled between running my lips across her ear lobe. “I’m kissing you.”
“Win.” She moaned in protest but didn’t push me away.
I held her at arm’s length, my manhood waking up like a fireman after the bell. “Can I just say how happy I am you’re here with me?”
“Did you write your eulogy?”
“May I kiss you before I have to start thinking about that?”
“Okay,” Ginny replied. “But only because you asked permission. And only because it’s hard to resist you naked.”
I pressed my mouth to hers, parting her lips with my tongue. It was brief, sexy, and hot enough for me to go from half mast to full sail. I knew it would take a series of baby steps to bring Ginny back into my life, but it was time I was willing to sacrifice to make our relationship strong. “See what you do you me?” I whispered in her ear as I pressed my hardness into her hip. “You’re all I ever think about. You’re all I’ve ever thought about from the moment I met you.”
Placing her hands on my face, she stroked my morning stubble and ran her soft fingers across my lips. “Please don’t tease me. You know I can’t take it.”
With a love tap to my bare ass she turned on her heels and walked away. “Get showered and dressed. Lena wants everyone to meet in the library before the funeral in the chapel,” she shouted over her shoulder.
“Lord thundering Jesus,” I sighed. “Waiting for you to come back is going to be the death of me.”
“You’ll survive me,” she snarked as she opened the door to leave. “God knows, I survived you.”
Knowing the roads would be filled with traffic, we opted to take the golf carts down to the chapel. I actually enjoyed it more than sitting in a limo with Lena, Cee Cee, Ginny and Magnus—all of us staring at each other, knowing none of us wanted to be there.
Ginny and I took my dad’s cart down the long lane, past the distillery buildings and through the woods. I did my best to replay what I’d written last night and figured no matter what was on the paper from my inebriated writing, I would ad lib—it was one of my better attributes, extemporaneous speaking.
When we came into the clearing in front of the chapel, I realized how smart our decision had been. The road was nearly blocked, the local police department directing well-wishers far down the lane to park.
We lined up the golf carts, walking to the black hearse where my father’s body lay inside. The pallbearers were his cousins on the Holloway side, mostly younger, strapping men who didn’t know the real Robert Holloway and were probably upset they were missing a beautiful day on the golf course to put a man in the ground they barely knew.
We waited for them to make it through the ancient front doors, following behind the casket as a family unit.
All eyes were on us and I took Ginny’s hand in mine as we walked down the short and narrow aisle, taking the first pew.
The minister began with a prayer and a reading from Psalms. He gave me a nod as we sang the last refrain of Great is Thy Faithfulness to let me know I was on deck.
Giving the notes in my pocket a tap, I reassured myself. Even if I didn’t decide to use what I’d written, the words were there.
When the song was over, I gave Ginny’s hand a squeeze and made my way to the timeworn pulpit. Staring out into the crowd of probably two hundred people packed into a space built for fifty at the most, I thought regardless of what I’d written, I needed to be brief.
“I want to thank everyone for coming to celebrate our father’s life with us. For those of you who knew only him, I’m Winterbourne Holloway, Robert’s son.”
“Looking out, I see many friends and family members and let me begin by saying it is very comforting to be surrounded by your love for us and for my father. Your friendship lets us know our father will always be around because of the people’s lives he managed to touch in his sixty-four years of life. Today, I want to focus not on how he died, but how he lived.”
I took a deep breath and pulled the papers from my suit coat, opening them and smoothing down the rumpled edges.
“Our family is one steeped in tradition. From the way the generations before us lived in the same home, worked in the same buildings making the same bourbon we do today—and even being married and laid to rest in the same piece of earth behind this very chapel. Growing up I was always taught being born a Winterbourne, or being born a Holloway, was a blessing—something to be proud of, and something to pass down on to a new generation. And it was true. I watched my grandfather Cecil run the family business like a general—maintaining the high standards his grandfather’s father had introduced to his own son. I saw my father take it into the future—instilling those same values in me and my sister Karolena. Today, I want to speak to these blessings.
“Most of you know the story of how Winter Haven and Winter Bourbon came to be—how it wouldn’t have been possible save for a man named Marshall Winterbourne. He risked his own life on the battlefield at Gettysburg, to save the life of his best friend, Cary Holloway. It’s the stuff of fairytales for sure. So when my father met and fell in love with Mary Winterbourne, the families felt it was a match made in heaven. Cary and Marshall looked down after all those years and said, finally, someone got it right!”
The crowd laughed and I took a deep breath. So far what I’d written wasn’t half bad. I was trying to read ahead as to not say something I’d regret or have to apologize for later.
“But my life as the first descendent of the half Winterbourne and half Holloway union didn’t seem blessed at all. My mother died when Lena and I were very young—leaving us with only our father and our beloved Cee Cee to raise us. The good Lord knows we were a handful and maybe it was at that point Cary and Marshall looked down and had themselves a good hard laugh, because they could put us together, but they couldn’t keep us from screwing it up.
“The thing is, no matter what, they were still the Winterbournes and the Holloways. They left their mark on this world even in their short lives and not just because of me and my sister, but because there’s nothing about Winter Haven that hasn’t been affected by their lives. And because of that, we have all been touched in one way or another by their blessings.
“My father didn’t care what you did or didn’t do. He didn’t care what color you were, how old you were, if you shared his political views or his love of bourbon. What he did care about was whether you were willing to work hard for what you wanted in life. I could easily say…” I paused, knowing my own thoughts in writing the next phrase in the middle of the night. “I could easily say our father was an unyielding man. He never stopped until he got what he wanted.”
I glanced into the front pew and looked Ginny in the eye. “It’s a trait he passed along to me.”
She gave me a teary wink. It was what I needed to keep going.
“But for all that perfectionism and fortitude, he had a softer side. I can remember a time when my mother was still alive. I wanted to play catch after dinner one night. See, back then, I was convinced I could be the next Paul O’Neill if I worked hard enough. Long story short, my dad was too busy. So my mother, the beautiful Mary Winterbourne, took my dad’s baseball glove, put it on in her dress, heels and pearls, and played catch with me. At first she was just tossing the ball back and forth, but then she started to give me pointers. They weren’t really pointers, just things she made up in her own mind that were necessary for a baseball player. My dad, who was working in the business office building could obviously see and hear us from his window. Needless to say, by the third pointer, which I’m pretty sure included, don’t spit, don’t grab your crotch and never curse, Dad was storming out of the office and onto the back lawn to take back his glove. Because if I was going to play baseball, if I was going to be the next Paul O’Neill, I needed the right tools for the job—and that didn’t include throwing advice from my mother.”
The smiles on the faces of the people in the church let me know even though it was packed—even though they were here instead of enjoying their own beautiful day, I had at least told them a story they’d never heard about my father.
“When my mother turned over the glove to my dad, she came to me and kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear, I don’t know baseball, but I know your dad loves you. Knowledge is the key to life, but faith unlocks the door. Have faith, Win.
“It wasn’t until I was much older I understood what she meant. My father
could be the most gracious man in the world, but he could also be a bear to deal with. In the end, I believe his life was all about love. His love for this business, this family and even when things didn’t go his way; he, like my mother, understood knowledge was the key to life but faith and love unlock the door. So today we bid farewell to a man who demanded life give him the best and in turn I can say with confidence he left the best of himself right here on this plot of earth, literally and figuratively. Because of that, I know we will see him in every new batch of bourbon, in every flower that blooms in the garden in springtime, every leaf that falls in autumn. You can’t give away so much of your life and not leave pieces of yourself behind. So for that, dear father, we say thank you.”
I stepped down from the pulpit, walking first to Lena. Leaning in to kiss her cheek, she whispered one word in my ear. “Perfect.”
I hugged Cee Cee who gave me a stoic nod and shook Magnus’s hand. He couldn’t look me in the eye, too overwhelmed with the loss of his life-long friend.
The minister had begun to take over in prayer as I sat down with Ginny, immediately taking her hand in mine. It was almost over and I’d made it through the eulogy without losing my mind or my composure. I didn’t know how I’d written something so fair-handed in my drunken state, but I thanked God while my head was bowed in the final prayer for allowing me to do so.
The pallbearers went back to work, and as we followed behind the casket, I flashed back to the day we buried my mother. My father’s words to me were to be a man, but with Ginny by my side I found myself choking back the emotion of the day. I mourned the loss of my mother and my father—I mourned the loss of all that used to be decent about our family and now was merely under suspicion.
16
GINNY
The funeral reception for Robert Holloway was in full swing on the first floor while his murder investigation was taking place upstairs in my guest room.