Gibson
Sunday, the day of my parent's anniversary party, I decided to make a surprise appearance. Maybe it was the guilt again for disappearing, or maybe it was plain old curiosity over how they were getting along without me. Still, I was not ready to reveal everything, so I parked my truck in the Walmart parking lot and waited for a shared ride. I was dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, and had my hair and beard trimmed, but those were the only concessions I made for this trip home. The less they all knew about my new life, the better.
That conviction didn't ease the queasiness in my stomach on the drive to Colebank Manor. That wasn't a real name, but a nickname Audrey and I made up years ago. It was not the only house my parents owned, but it was the one they'd had the longest. It was their base of operations and not far from the CB Resorts International headquarters in Atlanta.
It was also my personal favorite since I grew up there. My nervousness gave way to nostalgic anticipation as we entered the gates at the bottom of the long driveway. The main house sat up on a rise, overlooking the river on one side and the Atlanta skyline on the other. My driver, who was probably a college kid, muttered in awe under his breath as we entered the flagstone circular parking area, bordered by three garages. Each one held three cars, and the doors were made of elaborately carved wood. A fountain graced the center of the circle with three stone mermaids in the center, pouring water from clay pots they held.
Yeah, my beat-up old pickup truck would have looked just fine here.
I handed the driver a twenty for a tip, though it hadn't been a long ride. After gathering my bag from the trunk, I steeled myself for the onslaught. I watched the car disappear down the drive and felt a moment of panic. I was trapped.
I can always call for another car. Best to get this over with.
"Gibbie!"
It was my mother, Angela McDonough Colebank. I knew despite her cheerful greeting, I was about to get an earful. I ascended the few steps to the front door, and she pulled me into a hug. She patted my back affectionately and whispered in my ear.
"Oh, how I've missed you." Then she took a step back and gave my cheek a good pinch. "That's for being gone so long."
It didn't hurt much, but I got the message. "Nice to see you too, Mom." I rubbed my cheek and followed her into the house.
As we entered the foyer, there were shouts from the other rooms as assorted relatives and friends came to see me. In moments, I was surrounded, and the faces had various expressions from joy to skepticism to a downright scowl. The last was from my father, standing a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest.
I didn't meet his eye. Thankfully, my aunt swept me into a distracting hug. She was my father's sister, and they were always in competition over something.
"Aww, poor Johnnie. How are you holding up?"
I returned the hug, which lasted longer than I wanted. "Um, I'm fine, Aunt Margaret. And no one calls me that anymore."
At the age of fourteen, I decided to use my middle name, primarily to avoid forever being called, "Johnnie Three" after my father and grandfather. It was only years later, I began to wonder if it ever bothered my parents that I'd rejected the moniker. They hadn't said anything, but they'd also teased me about having an independent streak.
It was Audrey who rescued me from Margaret's clutches and steered me to the kitchen, where a crew of white-coated workers were laying out food for the party later. Audrey opened the fridge and, with a wink, handed me an artesian water bottle.
"We'll have something stronger later. I'm sure we'll need it."
I winked back, suppressing a laugh. No doubt, we'd need something stronger by evening. If I made it that long. The urge to flee was strong, but I was here now and that was half the battle.
The next few hours passed as I sat in the living room, dodging questions. After the third round of answering, "I'd rather not say," I decided to turn the tables on them and ask the questions.
"Mom, enough about me. What's been going on with you? And Dad?"
The furtive movement of her pale blue eyes told me I'd struck a nerve. Something was up with Dad and she knew it.
"The usual, darling. Work and more work. But he hasn't been traveling as much. Spencer's stepped in since…"
She didn't finish, and her eyes flashed.
"Since I left? You can say it, Mom. I know someone has to do my job. May as well be Spencer."
The slight groan from Audrey's lips was lost on everyone else, but she was next to me on the sofa so I heard it. It was her go-to reaction anytime our cousin's name was mentioned.
"I may as well do what?"
As if on cue, Spencer appeared, looking the same as he had the last time I saw him-tawny-haired, tanned, impeccably dressed, and smug as ever. His polo shirt and khakis were neatly pressed, and as he moved through the room, his cologne hung heavy in the air.
Margaret stood, her arms outstretched for the requisite hug. It didn't hurt that Spencer was her favorite.
"Don't think you're passing me by, young man." He hugged the frail woman politely, and she clung to his arm after he let go. "We were just talking about how great it was that you could cover for John-uh, Gibson while he's been away."
She'd emphasized the word away, as though it was a curse or some mysterious code word with a cryptic meaning. It was obviously disturbing her not to know what was really going on.
Spencer smiled his famous too-charming smile in response. "I'm happy to help. Take as much time as you need, buddy."
He looked directly at me and saluted. The condescension was almost more than I could bear. My hand twitched and fisted, but Audrey pressed her elbow to my arm in a silent warning. I'd have to ask her more about it later when we were alone.
Soon I pleaded exhaustion from the trip, since they had no idea how far I'd traveled. I really wanted to see my old room, to find out if it stirred any memories.
"Just a quick nap, unless you all need me for something?"
I asked the room in general and got several waves of approval. They would be sitting around talking until the party, anyway.
My old room had been converted to a guest room long ago, but it still comforted me the second I entered. Mom had kept the décor masculine with a nautical motif. Sailboats and lighthouses were everywhere, and the pale seafoam green and navy blue tones were restful. I lay back on the bed and in minutes was asleep.
I had the dream again, but this time I wasn't searching for Bianca. It was another woman, the one I'd met that night in Tilly. The one I tried to forget, only to find intimate memories of her would hit me out of the blue.
Sacha.
In the dream, I was chasing her through the woods. I kept stumbling over logs and rocks or catching my coat on branches. I called for her stop but she kept running, always out of reach, darting out of sight. But I knew it was her.
Later, the party was in full swing when Audrey approached me. Behind her was a young woman who looked vaguely familiar.
"Gib, you remember Valerie, don't you? She and I were friends in high school."
Tall and lithe, the brunette was stunning. She extended a hand, which I politely shook. "I think I do. It's been a while."
There was a minute of small talk, and then Audrey excused herself. I knew a set-up when I saw one, especially since Mom and Aunt Margaret had both introduced me to young ladies in the past hour. They were trying to give me a reason to come out of exile, but it wasn't working. They were all nice and good-looking. But that wasn't what I was here for. I chatted with Valerie for a few minutes before making the excuse of needing the restroom.
My father's office was next to the closest bathroom, so I couldn't help but look in as I passed. He was at his desk reading, when he should have been mingling with his guests. I wasn't surprised.
"Dad, you're missing your own party."
"I could say the same about you. We both have our ways of hiding out when we need to."
I leaned against the desk and folded my arms, mimicking his earlier stance. "If you've got something to say to me, say it."
The papers Dad was reading hit the desk with a thump. "This whole disappearing act is not like you, son. I used to be able to count on you, more than anyone. Now you're off doing God knows what. Living off your savings until it runs out?"
"No, I haven't touched my savings. I sublet the condo, and I've been supporting myself, earning my own money."
He took his glasses off and looked me over, as though I was a stranger.
"Doing what?"
"It doesn't matter. And don't worry, it won't reflect badly on the company. No one there knows who I am."
He shook his head then looked back at me with his stern gaze. It was a look I'd seen many times, and it still gave me a shiver. "Son, it does reflect badly that you're not where you should be. Spencer is happy to do your job, but he doesn't have the same drive as you. He thinks it's a non-stop vacation. He's learning, but he's not the closer you were. I can replace you if I must, but I don't want to. And I shouldn't have to beg my own son to work for me."
This was the conversation I'd been avoiding for months. My sense of duty was strong, but it was not enough to change my mind. Not yet. I had to make him understand why this was important to me.
Which was hard to do, when I hadn't really figured it out for myself yet.
"I don't expect you to understand what I'm going through. All I know is, losing Bianca and the baby changed me. How could it not? It was my fault. I made the decision, which put events in motion that ended up killing them, and for that, I will never forgive myself."
My voice faltered on the last few words. My throat had seized up as it did every time I talked about my role in the accident that killed my wife. I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose to stem the tears that threatened.
I would not let him see me fall apart.
"Gib, you can't keep beating yourself up. You had nothing to do with it."
His voice had been calm, reassuring even. I knew under his anger over my actions, he did care. I straightened up to face him, shaking back my shoulders with a deep breath.
"I don't know what it's going to take to get me through this, but I have to do it alone. After the funeral, I just couldn't go on with business as usual, or with my life as it was, without them. I couldn't."
I had spoken the truth. My truth. Dad's blue-gray gaze went from stern to sad then looked away.
"Well… I suppose I can wait a little longer. But this situation can't go on indefinitely. Maybe more counseling-"
I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "I tried that before I left town. I'm not mentally unstable. I need some time."
Before he could counter, Mom appeared at the door.
"There you are, boys. I'm not leaving until both of you return to the party, so whatever it was, finish up. Quick."
He gave me a helpless glance, and then shrugged. The conversation was over, whether we agreed or not.
"Yes, Mom. We're coming."
She turned on her heel and we followed. There was so much left unsaid, but it would have to wait.
~*~
Dad and I went our separate ways and mingled with everyone else at the party. I knew it was hard for him to understand my point of view, but I was not ready to come back. Across the room, I saw him talking with Margaret and Spencer, and I could just imagine the scheming that was going on.
Let them scheme. If I had learned one thing while I was away, it was that money didn't solve everything.
I was about to get another drink when Audrey corralled me and pulled me on to the patio. People were clustered in small groups so she took me to a corner where we could talk.
"What is so important it couldn't wait?"
She looked over her shoulder at the living room, crammed with wall-to-wall people. "If you want to have any part of your inheritance, you need to come home soon. There's rumors that Margaret has Dad's ear, and she is angling for Spencer to take over if anything happens to Dad."
Her face was twisted into a grimace at the thought of what she described coming to pass. I blinked.
"So, let him. If they want it that bad, they can have it."
Her short, blonde bob swung against her chin as she shook her head. "Oh, no. If anyone should be the next CEO, it's you. Or me. Not him."
This. This is one of many reasons I was reluctant to visit, let alone return permanently. It wasn't enough they all had so much money their kid's kids couldn't spend it all. They had to get entangled in drama and strategies. I no longer cared. I could live without it.
"Look, Audrey, don't get yourself all worked up. I had a discussion with Dad, and he's not going to do anything, make any changes for now. He's agreed to give me some space, but I promise, this will all work out in the end."
I really couldn't promise anything to anyone, not even myself, but she relaxed at my words. It was worth a gamble. Besides, maybe things would work out in the end.
Anything was possible at this point.