The Bourbon Thief(31)

“You said it yourself—Granddaddy went to your mother’s funeral even though she hadn’t worked for him in years. He gave you a job paying you more than you’d earn anywhere else. He was keeping an eye on you. Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, but I know I’m done talking about this with you. Now get out of here and never show your face here again. All you fucking Maddoxes can go to hell.”

“You are a Maddox,” Tamara called out after him.

Ignoring her, Levi spurred his horse and headed straight back to the stables. Tamara, seasoned rider that she was, followed close behind him, keeping up even as he took sharp turns on back trails to evade her.

Back at the stables he put Ashley back in his stall and didn’t bother to unsaddle him. Before Tamara could say another word to him, he was in his pickup and driving away.

Last thing he saw as he peeled out of the parking lot, throwing gravel as he went, was Tamara on the back of her horse looking proud and elegant and made of money. She looked like a Maddox. She looked nothing like him.

Levi almost stopped to throw up on his way to his aunt and uncle’s house outside Lawrenceburg. He’d gone on a few drinking benders in his life and had his share of hangovers, but his stomach had never churned like this, like a waterwheel in a running river. His eyes ran and his breaths were quick. He ached like he had a fever and he would have driven into the Kentucky River to cool himself off if he’d been anywhere near it.

When he arrived at the little white farmhouse on the edge of his aunt Gloria and his uncle Andre’s property, Levi entered through the back door without knocking. He didn’t see his uncle’s truck or Gloria’s Chevy. He went upstairs, stripped naked in the bathroom, took a long ice-cold shower and rested his head against the slick pink-tiled wall.

He wanted to think of a thousand reasons why Tamara was wrong, why she would lie to him or why her father would lie to her. But the only thought in his head was this one—this explains everything.

It explained why Virginia Maddox hated him so much.

It explained why his mother never told him who his father was.

It explained why George Maddox came to the funeral and offered him a job.

It explained his blue eyes.

And it explained why he let himself think for one second he was allowed to fool around with a rich white girl like Tamara Maddox. Because in his heart of hearts he knew they were the same.

When Levi finally turned off the water, he heard footsteps and his uncle Andre’s voice calling his name.

He dried off quickly and pulled his clothes back on. He took a few cold drinks of water out of the sink and tossed his towel into the hamper because Gloria would have his hide if he left the towel on the floor. She worked at a bank and was no one’s maid, she liked to remind him.

Levi walked down the narrow staircase and found his uncle standing by the front door, flipping through mail.

“You come for dinner tonight?” he asked without any other kind of greeting. They were family. Family didn’t need any hi’s and how-are-you’s.

“I need to talk to you.”

Andre looked at Levi, looked him dead in the eyes.

“Son, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. You’re whiter than usual and that’s saying something.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“I see you aren’t. What’s wrong?”

“Is George Maddox my father?”

Levi was impressed. Andre didn’t bat an eye at the question. Then again, Andre had spent four years fighting World War II and had seen horrors he’d never speak of no matter how much liquor you poured down his throat. What was one more?

“Let’s go in the kitchen,” Andre said, which was as much of a yes as Levi needed. “I could use a beer. So could you.”

Andre poured two glasses of beer and Levi didn’t touch his. They both sat at the round oak table on opposite sides playing chicken. Andre blinked first.

“Your mother never told us who your father was. She said he was a married man and he already had children. That’s all we know for certain. That and he worked where she worked.”

“At Red Thread.”

Andre sighed. “Your mother was a beautiful woman when she was younger. Sons don’t like to hear that about their mothers, but it was true and we have the pictures to prove it.”

“I’ve seen pictures from when she was younger. I never said she wasn’t pretty.” His mother loved her white go-go boots, her miniskirts, her silk shirts in wild colors. She was a beauty and in his younger days he’d been proud of having the prettiest mother around.

“She was pretty, yeah. She was also pretty wild. I was half in love with her myself, but I don’t regret picking Glory over Honor.”

An old family joke. Two sisters—Gloria and Honora. Glory and Honor.

“Mom wouldn’t have... Not with George Maddox. Not a chance,” Levi said.

“She worked the night shift. I imagine the owner and company president stayed late at work a lot. She talked about him a few times. I remember her saying he and his wife didn’t get along too well. I heard she died not long ago. Thought she’d been dead for years.”

“You’re stalling.”

“I’m stalling.”

“Tell me what you know.”

“I know what she told Glory, which is what I told you. She said she didn’t think he’d leave his wife for her, but he gave her gifts, money—”