Page 65 of Infinite
Jesus. She can barely bring herself to speak the words.
“It took a lot for me to leave my family. As much as it brought me tremendous relief, I couldn’t just disappear. I’m the daughter of Wilton Shields, among the most revered and wealthy men of Kiawah Island. He couldn’t let me go on my terms. Not the original King of Spin.”
“What did he say about you?”
“It wasn’t just him. It was everyone who carries the Shields name and wants to keep it. They started circulating rumors about me whoring around. That I started using cocaine. Don’t you worry none, they tried to get me help. But being the spoiled, drug-addicted ingrate that I am, I refused. They tried everything to put me back on the right path. When they failed as a family and right-proper Christians, they had no choice but to let me go.”
I rub my eyes. Becca went through hell and I wasn’t there to see her through it. I drop my hand away. “Those rumors didn’t stand a chance. You made a name for yourself working in PR and with the Cougars.”
“You’re forgetting, that took years,” Becca says. “The family attributed my eventual success to their tough love tactics. It was only when word reached them how well I was doing that Momma finally contacted me.”
“She was proud of you,” I say, already knowing I’m giving her momma too much credit.
“We both know that’s not true. It wasacceptablefor her to reach out to only because I hadn’t screwed up like they’d expected, and because people were reaching out to her, making a big fuss. ‘We saw Becca,’ the ladies of the auxiliary gushed. ‘So good to see she turned her life around.’ They talked about me so much, Momma had no choice but to take credit and talk me up like she knew everything about my life. Like we were the best of friends, even though she never once tried to help me or see if I was okay.”
“I know, darlin’. But even if she wanted to, your daddy wouldn’t have let her.”
“She still should have tried, Hale. I’m her baby. Her only child. And she didn’t even know whether I had any food to eat.”
She breaks down. I let her. Tears, especially Becca’s tears, stab me in the heart and give a merciless twist. But those tears are needed to cleanse all the mud-slinging her family did. They’re there to heal. I only wish I was there to hold her.
“Your daddy controls your momma,” I remind her. I don’t want to defend Becca’s momma. But I also don’t want Becca to hurt as much as does. “She was being a good wife by obeying and portraying herself as a Southern lady, one of prestige who keeps her husband happy. That didn’t make her a good mother. It just made her a good wife in all the right social circles.”
“I wanted her to be a good momma,” Becca admits. “I can forgive her, to some extent, because she was an abused woman. I just wish I had one memory,justone, Hale, where she tried to protect or defend me. But she never did.”
The sound of a tissue being pulled from a box echoes on the other end of the line. “Do you remember the night Daddy withdrew from the election?”
“When he was running for mayor?” I ask, shaking the memory awake.
“He told everyone he withdrew because a business opportunity had come up in France and he wasn’t certain how available he’d be. The real reason was Momma’s cousin was running, too, and Daddy knew he wouldn’t be able to beat him.”
I didn’t know Becca’s cousin well. But he was young and eager and loved by many.
“Daddy was in a mood and looking to take his anger out on someone,” she says, continuing. “He didn’t like that someone he considered less than him could possibly be better or beat him.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, knowing something bad is coming. “What did he do to you, Becca?”
Her voice shakes. “I’d gone out with you, Trin, and our boys to that festival in Charleston. Do you remember? It was our freshman year of high school. Landon had his license and drove us into the city.”
“Yeah, I remember.” I’d won her a giant bear. It was brown with a pink nose.
“He called me into his study the moment I came home, claiming I hadn’t done my chores. I told him I had and he smacked me, accusing me of talking back to him. He hit me so hard, I crashed into the bookshelf.”
“What?” I say, unable to get past the rage at hearing Becca had been attacked.
“Nana June was very frail and weak at that point in her life. But do you know what? She threw herself on Daddy’s back when he came after me, scratching at his eyes and telling me to run. I ran up to my room. I didn’t know where else to go. I heard Nana June, Daddy, and Momma going at it. Momma took Daddy’s side and yelled at Nana for interfering.” Becca sniffs. “Nana June came up to my room to check on me. She promised me Daddy would never hurt me again so long as she was around.”
Becca doesn’t remind me that her loving and feisty Nana June died a few months later. Nor does she acknowledge that when her safety net and protector was gone, she was left to defend herself. She doesn’t have to.
“Nana June could have been seriously hurt and all Momma did was blame me for upsetting my father.”
There are many words I have to describe Becca’s parents. None of them are good. I keep them to myself. Becca doesn’t deserve to hear them. No matter how bad, these people gave her life. For that I’m grateful. It’s the only reason I’ll respect them as much as I do.
“I get it,” I say.
“Sorry?” Becca asks.
Lord, she seems so lost in her thoughts. “I’m letting you know I understand. You don’t want to look bad in front of those who think so highly of you.”