Marta Perry - The Guardian's Honor

“Mr. Bodine?”

He glanced up and then shot to his feet at the sight of Hawkins’s granddaughter. No, stepgranddaughter. She must have guessed he’d be at the only motel this small town boasted.

“Mrs. Norwood. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Especially not after the way he’d reacted when he’d seen her disabled son. He’d kicked himself all the way back to the motel, but it had been unavoidable. He’d looked at her and the boy and seen the other mother and son, felt the pain…

“I thought we should talk.” Her gaze was wary, maybe even a little antagonistic. But at least she was here. The door wasn’t entirely closed.

“Please, sit down.” He pulled out a chair for her. “I’m glad you’ve come.”

“I’m not sure what good it will do. My grandfather is a very stubborn man.”

He was tempted to say it ran in the family, but that was presuming too much. Instead he signaled for the server. “You’ll have something to eat, won’t you?”

“No. Well, just coffee.”

While the server brought cups and a fresh pot, he took the opportunity to study Mrs. Norwood. Mrs., she’d said, but she didn’t wear a ring. Divorced? Widowed?

Her hands were roughened, no doubt from that garden where he’d first seen her, but they were delicate and long-fingered. Artistic, he’d say, if he believed physical traits meant talents.

As for the rest, his first impression was strengthened. She wore that air of strain like a heavy coat, weighing her down. Her fine-boned face tensed with it, and it spoke in the lines around her hazel eyes. Life hadn’t treated her well, and he had a ridiculous urge to fix that.

“Mrs. Norwood,” he began.

But she shook her head. “Cathleen. Cathy, please. After all, if you’re right, we’re…what? Step-second cousins, I guess.”

“I guess.” He took a sip of the fresh coffee, trying to clear his mind. This woman could help him, if she wanted to, and the fact that she had driven thirty miles to catch him had to be a good sign.

“Cathy.” He smiled, relaxing a little at the encouragement. “Since your grandfather wouldn’t listen to what brought me here, will you?”

“I guess that’s why I’ve come.” Her hands twisted a little before she seemed to force them to relax. “My grandfather doesn’t know. He thinks I came to town for groceries.”

“I see.”

But he didn’t, not really. What kind of relationship did she have with her grandfather? Certainly nothing like the one he’d had with his. Even with the huge tribe of grandkids his three sons had managed to produce, Granddad had still found time to make each of them feel special.

“Did your grandfather send you here to find his brother?” she asked.

“Not exactly. My grandfather died several years ago. My grandmother, Miz Callie, is the one who became convinced that Ned couldn’t have done what people thought he had.”

“Why? What convinced her of that?”

“She remembered him so well, you see. She had faith in him.”

He hesitated, doing some mental editing. There was so much more to the story, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her with information.

“At first, the family didn’t know anything about it, and when they did find out, there was a lot of fuss because they figured Miz Callie was going to be hurt if he really had run off. But it turned out that Ned had enlisted in the Navy under another name after he became estranged from his father.”

Her fingers tightened on the cup, as if that fact hit a nerve. “So he never contacted the family again?”

“No.” That was the aspect of the whole thing he just didn’t get. He could understand an eighteen-year-old rushing off to enlist under another name. He couldn’t understand the man Ned must have become cutting himself off from his family for life.

Cathy shook her head slowly, but she didn’t seem to find it as hard to believe as he did. “What convinced you that the man you want is my grandfather?”

In answer, he pulled out the envelope of photographs he’d been carrying around. He slid the reproductions of black and white photos onto the tabletop between them.

“This was the first photo I found of Theodore Hawkins after he enlisted.” He shoved the picture of the young PT boat crew across to her. “Can you pick out your grandfather?”

She bent over, studying the images of boys, most long dead, before putting her finger on one face. “That’s Grandpa.”

He handed her another picture. “And here’s one of Ned Bodine, taken that last summer.” He’d taken the original photo to a professional lab, not content with his own photo program, sharpening the face until he thought he’d recognize his great-uncle in his sleep.

Cathy let out a long, slow breath. “It surely looks like the same person. But if he has family, why would he deny it?”

“You know your grandfather better than I do. Is he the kind of person who would hold on to a grudge that long?”

A shutter seemed to come down over her face, closing him out.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. He needed this woman on his side. “That wasn’t very tactful. I meant—”

“I know what you meant, and the answer is that I don’t know. Maybe.” She seemed to stare into the coffee cup, as if looking for answers there. “Tell me about your family. Why are they so interested in finding him?”

“My grandmother,” he said simply. “She’s the heart of the family, and she wants this so much. How could we not try to help her? As for the family—well, there’s a bunch of us. My grandmother and grandfather had three sons, and they married and had kids. There are eleven of us cousins, all pretty close in age.”

Now she just looked stunned, maybe at the thought of acquiring so many relatives at one fell swoop.

“Y’all live in Charleston?”

“In and around. My grandmother has moved out to the family beach house on Sullivan’s Island. My sister was up in Atlanta for a while, but she’s back now. It seems like whenever one of us goes off for a time, he or she just has to come back. Charleston’s home to us.”

“Beach house?”

“It’s been in the Bodine family for years. In fact, that’s where Ned ran away from. The family always moved out to the island every summer from the Charleston house.”

She glanced at him, something almost speculative in those hazel eyes, and then looked down again. “You said Ned was your grandfather’s older brother?”

He nodded. “About six years between them, I think.”

“It sounds… Well, it sounds like a life no one would want to give up. If my grandfather is your kin, I’d think he’d be eager to claim it.”

She sounded willing to be convinced, and that was half the battle, surely. He’d better bring up the idea he’d been mulling over.

“Is there any chance your grandfather would open up to you about it?”

Her lips tightened. “I don’t know. But if he did, if he really is Edward Bodine, what then? What did you think would happen?”

Something was behind her questions, but he wasn’t sure what it was. “Best-case scenario? I hoped he might want to come back to Charleston, for a visit if not to stay. Be a part of the family again. At the least, I guess I’d hope he’d want to be in touch with Miz Callie. It would mean a lot to her.”

She was silent for a long moment, looking down so that he couldn’t see her eyes. The feeling that she was holding something back intensified.

Finally she looked up. “I don’t think it’ll help any if I talk to him. Once he gets his back up, it’s no sense talking.”

Disappointment had a sharp edge. If his granddaughter couldn’t convince him, why would he listen to Adam?

“My grandfather is going to lunch today with a friend. I’ll have a look through my grandma’s boxes in the attic while he’s gone. Maybe there’ll be something to show, one way or the other. That’s the best I can think of to do.”