Carolina Moon

Tory’s face. “Some women,” she said again, “aren’t built for mothering. That’s why, just like the song says, God blesses the child who’s got his own. You got your own, honey. You always did.”
    For the first time since she’d heard the news of her mother’s death, Tory wept.
    Cade stopped at the parlor first. Manners would never have permitted him to walk by an old family friend.
    “Judge.”
    Gerald turned, and the stern, contemplative lines of his face relaxed fractionally when he saw Cade. “I was hoping I’d have a chance to speak with you this morning. I hope you can spare me a minute.”
    “Of course.” Cade stepped in, gestured to a chair. “I hope you’re well.”
    “A little arthritis, acts up now and again. Old age.” Gerald gestured it aside as he sat. “Never think it’s going to happen to you, then you wake up one day and wonder who the hell that old man is in your shaving mirror. Well.” Gerald laid his palms on the knees of his trousers. “I’ve known you since you were born.”
    “So there’s no need to pick your words,” Cade finished. “I’m aware my mother has spoken to you about some legalities and changes in her will.”
    “She’s a proud woman, and she’s concerned for you.”
    “Is she?” Cade lifted his eyebrows as if fascinated by that information. “She needn’t be. I’m fine. More than fine. If her concern is for Beaux Reves,” he continued, “it’s also misplaced. We’re having a very good year. Better, I think, even than last.”
    Gerald cleared his throat. “Cade, I knew your father most of my life, was his friend. I hope you’ll take what I have to say in that spirit. If you would postpone your personal plans, take a bit more time to consider. I’m fully aware of a man’s needs and desires, but when those desires are put ahead of duty, of practicality, and most of all ahead of family, it can never come to good.”
    “I’ve asked Tory to marry me. I don’t need my mother’s blessing, or yours, for that matter. I can only regret those blessings aren’t forthcoming.”
    “Cade, you’re a young man, with your life in front of you. I’m only asking, as a friend of both your parents, for you to take time to consider, time you can well spare at your age. To look at the entire picture. Particularly now that this tragedy has come into Tory Bodeen’s life. A tragedy,” Gerald added, “that speaks volumes of who and what she comes from. You were just a boy yourself when she lived here, and were sheltered from the harder facts of life.”
    “What facts would they be?”
    Gerald sighed. “Hannibal Bodeen is a dangerous man, undoubtedly ill in his mind. Such things come down in the blood. Now, I have every sympathy for the child, make no mistake, but there’s no changing what is.”
    “Is this ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’? Or is it ‘As a twig is bent so it grows’?”
    Irritation flickered over Gerald’s face. “Either is apt. Victoria Bodeen lived in that house, under his hand, too long not to be bent by it.”
    “Under his hand,” Cade said carefully.
    “Figuratively, and I’m afraid, literally. Many years ago, Iris Mooney, Victoria’s maternal grandmother, came to see me. She wanted to sue the Bodeens for custody of the girl. She said Bodeen beat the child.”
    “She wanted to hire you?”
    “She did. However, she had no proof of this abuse, no substantiation. I have no doubt, had none then, that she was telling the truth, but—”
    “You knew,” Cade said very quietly. “You knew that he was beating her, putting welts and bruises on her, and you did nothing?”
    “The law—”
    “Fuck the law.” He spoke in that same deadly cool voice as he got to his feet. “She came to you for help, because she wanted to take a child out of a nightmare. And you did nothing.”
    “It was not my place to interfere with the blood family. She had no proof. The case was weak.” Flustered, Gerald rose as well. He was unused to being questioned or looked at with such disgust. “There were no police reports, none from social services. Just the word of a grandmother. If I had taken the case, nothing would have come of it.”
    “We’ll never know, will we? Because you didn’t take the case. You didn’t try to help.”
    “It was not my place,” Gerald said again.
    “It was your place. It’s everyone’s place. But she got through it without you, without anyone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have personal