The Iron Tiara

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Naples, Florida 1979

  "Can't find her, huh?" Richard's sarcasm was palpable. After answering the front door, he led Anthony into the small living area of his single-wide trailer. He plopped on a tattered recliner and picked up a beer from the end table. He gestured toward another chair, but Anthony disregarded the offer to sit and stood over Richard, glaring down at him. The smell of stale beer, rotten food, and perspiration were overwhelming. The trailer was a garbage dump.

  "Who was the middle-aged man that Christy ran off with?" he demanded.

  "She never told us," he scoffed.

  "Then how do you know she was with a man?" he asked, his eyes narrowed.

  "Because my parents told me," he sneered.

  "And you believed them?" Anthony glanced around the filthy trailer. "Did you ever think to ask your sister?"

  "Hmph...like she would ever tell the truth," Richard countered. He couldn't hide his contempt for Christy.

  "Why does she hate your parents so much?" Anthony asked.

  Richard shrugged his shoulders.

  "Is it because Van raped her and sent her off to have the baby, and convinced everyone she’d run off with an older lover?"

  Richard sat up. He couldn't disguise his shock. "What?" he exclaimed.

  "You told me that she ran away the summer of '74 and that she was home in time to open her Christmas presents. Don't you think it's a huge coincidence that Litzy's child was born in December 1974?"

  Richard looked confused. "I never thought much about it," he confessed. "I wasn't close to Litzy or her brat."

  Anthony grabbed Richard by his collar and pulled him to his feet. Their faces were so close, Anthony could see the pores in his skin. "Abby wasn't Litzy's brat," Anthony spat. "I saw the adoption certificate for Abigail and like I said, it's too much of a coincidence. I'm convinced Litzy's adopted daughter, Abby, was your niece and worse, I'm certain that Christy's hatred for Van is based on more than the fact that he was a rotten human being,"

  Anthony wouldn't go into details surrounding the fact that despite Christy not being a virgin, she'd possessed not one ounce of sexual prowess or knowledge. He was convinced that she was a victim of rape. And if it had been perpetrated by someone other than Van, the Chapmans would've gone to the authorities. Especially Bobbi, Anthony thought. She was a powerful woman and wouldn't have stood for someone getting away with raping her granddaughter and future heiress of the Bowen dealership fortune. Van had sexually abused his stepdaughter and hid it from Bobbi by sending Christy away to have the baby, and by making up the story that she'd run off with a lover and that Litzy was fired because she'd gotten pregnant. The timing was spot on and it was all too neat. Too perfect. And the fact that Bobbi died around the same time that Christy gave birth told him something else. Maybe what Christy had said was true. What if Van did have Bobbi killed? What if Bobbi had discovered what he'd done and threatened him?

  Richard's eyes were wide.

  "Unless it was you. Are you Abby’s father? Did you rape your sister, Richard?" Anthony asked, his voice a low growl.

  "No!" Richard yelled. "I don't get along with Christy, but that doesn't make me a pervert."

  "Do you think Van is capable of rape?" Anthony let go of Richard, and he stepped back as Richard tried to compose himself.

  Nodding his head, Richard said, "Yes. Van was capable of a lot of things. I wouldn't put it past him to force himself on his own daughter. My poor sister." He looked down and shook his head. "If I hadn't been so self-absorbed, I might've noticed something." Richard's eyes were averted and Anthony couldn’t tell if he was being sincere.

  "His stepdaughter," Anthony corrected. "But since Van was the only father she'd ever known it doesn't make it less despicable," he added.

  "Stepdaughter?" Richard asked, his brows wrinkled in confusion.

  "Christy told me how your biological father died and Van adopted you both when Christy was a baby."

  Richard shook his head. "I was six years old when Christy was born, and I was there the day my mother brought her home from the hospital. And so was Van. I don't know what story my sister told you, but Van wasn't our stepfather. He was our real father."

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Naples, Florida 1979

  If Van was the father of the child Anthony was certain Christy had given birth to, Richard's revelation made the situation more heinous. Why had she made up the lie about Van being her stepfather? he wondered, but was quickly able to answer his own question. Shame. Who would ever want to admit to giving birth to their own sister? Anthony shook his head as he tried to come to terms with this new information. He needed to find Christy. Not only because he was hopelessly in love with her, but because she was the only one who apparently knew the truth. He'd returned home after his quick visit to Richard's and was deflated when there were no messages on his answering machine.

  He now stood in his shop, the smoldering embers matching his mood. The hammer came down hard and sparks flew, searing his exposed chest. Good, he thought. Let them burn me. He'd been mentally numb, wanting and needing to feel something. Even if it was pain. Though no external physical pain could even come close to what he was feeling inside, not only for himself, but for his woman. He couldn't fathom the emotional scarring his Owani had endured. He needed to find her. He needed to bring her home.

  His eyes carelessly perused the shelves of his sanctuary and rapidly returned to an empty spot. He laid down his hammer and swiftly strode to the door that separated his blacksmithing area from the other two garage bays. Upon entering, his eyes quickly rested on another empty shelf. He knew where Christy was.

  He drove for thirty minutes and breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled up next to her car. He would have to make the rest of the journey on foot. After hiking his way through the brush, he spotted her campsite. He didn't see her, so he headed for the freshwater lake where they'd bathed. He spotted her bent over, rinsing something out in the water.

  She didn't jump when he said, "You need to be careful of alligators, Owani."

  "I know," Christy replied without turning around.

  "When did you know I was here?" he asked.

  She stood and turned to face him. "I heard your truck about ten minutes ago," she answered. She pointed to her left ear. "Remember? Bionic hearing."

  "How could I forget?" he countered.

  She looked at the ground as she wrung out what looked like one of her shirts.

  He watched her, his anger and anxiety at the distress she'd caused him evaporating. He loved her so much. When he noticed her shoulders shaking he realized she was crying and he immediately went to her, pulling her close.

  "It's okay, Christy. It's okay, baby." His words were soft, like a caress. He led her back to her tent, impressed with how she'd set up the campsite.

  "How did you know where to find me?" she asked, her eyes red and puffy.

  "I was in my shop and noticed a lantern missing off the shelf. Then I saw the tent missing from the garage and knew immediately where you were."

  She nodded and stifled a hiccup.

  "Why did you leave me?" he blurted out.

  He sat down on a log and pulled her down on his lap.

  Christy sighed and then relaxed into him. "I can't do this, Anthony," she confessed.

  "You can't do what? Be the wife of a criminal?" he asked.

  "Yes. No!" she corrected immediately. "I'm not that good of a person, Anthony. I'm not like Grizz's wife, Kit. I don't have the moral compass that she has. I don't care about all of that." She sniffled.

  "Then what is it you can't do, Owani?" he asked. He tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. They filled up and tears coursed down her sunburned cheeks.

  "I can't lose someone else that I care about, Anthony." She shook her head as if to erase the thoughts. "Everyone I've ever loved has left me. First, Litzy left to have Abby. Then my grandmother died right before Abby was born. Then Abby died. Then Litzy moved away. Nadine an
d the boys moved." She hiccupped. "Alexander getting arrested and hauled away put me over the edge. When that man put the handcuffs on him, all I could see was you." She burrowed her face into his chest and sobbed.

  "I'm not leaving you, Christy. I'll never leave you," he told her.

  "Not on purpose," she choked. "But what if the law shows up at our door like they did for Alexander?"

  "It won't happen, honey. X was careless. I'm not. But if you want a guarantee, I'll end it all. I'll do it for you."

  She pulled back and looked up at him. "Anthony, I don't want you to step away from your life for me."

  "My love for you can't be measured against my lifestyle, Christy. There is no comparison. You'll win out every time, and because of that, I'm willing to let it all go. Marry me, and I'll drive to Camp Sawgrass right now and torch the whole place."

  "You would do that for me?" she asked, her expression one of bewilderment.

  "Don't you realize by now that I would do anything for you, Christy?"

  She smiled, and he carefully wiped away her tears. She grabbed a lock of his hair and without looking up at him asked, "And you think you can keep doing what you're doing and still keep your distance from the law?"

  "Yes," he answered honestly. "Do you know how much I pay every month to do exactly that?"

  Her eyes went round. It'd never occurred to her that he paid off people in law enforcement to look the other way or protect him. But why wouldn't he? He’d already admitted to paying off someone at the insurance company to look the other way with the dealership thefts. Why would this be any different? And she was certain that was how Van had gotten away with so much when he'd been accused of having sex with underage girls. A thought occurred to her, and she started chewing on her lip. "Paying for the law to look the other way didn't seem to help Alexander," she told him.

  "Because I don't have anyone on my payroll in Pennsylvania," he answered.

  She nodded her head in understanding and smiled up at him.

  "Can we go home?" she asked him.

  "Not until you tell me why you didn't think you could tell me Abby was your daughter."

  Anthony would've spent the night with her in the Everglades, but felt it was more important to get to a phone and call off the search for her. After helping Christy pack up her little campsite, they met back at the house, where she took a shower while he made the necessary phone calls.

  He found her a little while later in the sunroom. She was sitting in a chair facing the huge backyard. He sat down next to her.

  “I don’t even know what Abigail looks like," Anthony said. "The day I went through your wallet, there were no pictures. I’ve been to your apartment several times and again, no pictures.”

  Still staring straight ahead, she told him, “It’s too hard for me to look at them. I keep them in that shoebox I brought here from my place. I’ll show them to you if you want.”

  "I would like to see them,” he told her. A beat passed. “You never answered my question back at the campsite, Christy. Why didn't you tell me Abby was your daughter?"

  Without looking over at him or asking how he found out, she said evenly, "Because she wasn't. Not legally, anyway. Litzy raised her during her short life. I was a bystander."

  He reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly.

  "I didn't think it mattered anyway," she continued. "It's not like she's still here."

  "But your love for her is still with you,” he reminded her.

  She looked over at him then and smiled. "That's true. But telling you she was my biological child wouldn't have changed anything. I'll continue to love her more than my own life, and I'll continue to mourn her the same. Even if Litzy had given birth to Abby, my feelings wouldn't be any different."

  "I'll give you another child, Christy," he said as he pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly.

  She didn't reply, only nodded and he saw sadness in her eyes. It was time to ask her about Abby’s father.

  "No!" she cried. "Ugh. No, Anthony. Van wasn't Abby's father."

  "I don't believe you," he told her, his eyes narrowing. He sat up on the edge of his chair and leaned toward her. "All the secrecy. The made-up story about the older boyfriend. Van's inability to keep it in his pants and the recent proof we've seen of exactly what he is capable of doing to you." They were sitting side by side, but he leaned even closer, putting his face right in hers. "And I already know that Van isn't your stepfather. He's your biological father. All the more reason for your family to hide it."

  She pulled back from him and stood up, yanking her hand out of his. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at him. "You've been talking to Richard," she said. It wasn't a question.

  "You don't deny it? Van is your father?"

  She let out a sigh and rolled her eyes heavenward. "No. I don't deny it. But I do deny that he fathered Abby. What kind of a person do you think I am?" she asked him.

  "Christy," he said, as he stood. He was now looking down at her. "It has nothing to do with what kind of person I think you are. It has to do with the kind of person I know Van was. He was undoubtedly capable of raping you. Did he?"

  "No," she told him, not breaking from his gaze.

  "Then who got you pregnant?" he probed. "Who is Abby's father? I won't believe it's not Van unless you tell me otherwise."

  Her shoulders slumped, and she looked up at him, slowly shaking her head.

  "You know him. Well, you don't know him. You know of him."

  His eyes widened. Who could she possibly be referring to?

  "Lenny Renquest,” she said.

  It took a second for him to recognize the name and when he did, he gave her a half smirk. "The pimply faced kid from the restaurant?" he asked her.

  "Yes, and he doesn't have pimples anymore." Her tone was defensive.

  "I could see his acne scars from across the room. How in the world did you ever hook up with him?"

  "It was the night of some big dance. I don't remember if it was prom or homecoming. Of course I didn't go. He'd already graduated. Anyway," she said as she fiddled with her earring, "I ran into him at the drug store. He was always a nice guy. I was lonely. I was curious. He was willing."

  "He took you home?" Anthony asked, trying not smile. He couldn't imagine them together. The tall, lanky, pale and pimply kid with the girl who should've been the prom queen.

  "Not exactly." She looked at him sheepishly. "We did it in the back of his father's plumbing van in the drugstore parking lot. It happened two times. The first time was over as soon as he put it in. He didn't last much longer the second time, but it was long enough to get me pregnant. I decided afterward that I hadn't been missing out on much by not having a boyfriend."

  "Does Lenny know about Abby?" Anthony asked, his expression now serious.

  "No. Nobody knows. My parents were very good about covering it up. And they humiliated me by starting a rumor that I'd run off with an older boyfriend. Even Richard believed it. I don't know if they ever told my grandmother the truth. I was sent away to a private school for pregnant girls and Bobbi died right before Abby was born." Her voice held an edge of bitterness. "And when I threatened to shout it to the world, Van and Vivian offered me a compromise. They would never acknowledge Abby or let me raise her in our home, but they would let Litzy adopt her. If I refused the offer, they guaranteed I would never see my child again. And I believed them."

  "I'm sorry, Christy. I'm sorry about all of it."

  "I am too," she told him as she stood there. She was looking down, kicking at an imaginary stone with her right foot.

  He reached for her and pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around his waist, welcoming his strength, warmth, and masculine smell. He bent low to rest his chin on her head and said, "I have another question, Owani."

  "What?" she asked, drinking in his scent.

  "You ran into Lenny at the drug store. He was supposedly the school brainiac. Your words at the restaurant, not mine," he quickly
added. "And you're a smart girl."

  "Yeah, so?" she asked.

  "You'd think one of you would've thought to grab a pack of condoms."

  Without looking at him, she could feel the smile in his voice as his mouth rested against her head.

  "Shut up, Anthony. Just shut up."

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Naples, Florida 1979

  Before too long summer was upon them, and it was one of the most brutal heat waves Anthony could remember. The high temperatures were relentless, and drought conditions made it close to impossible for Native Touch to keep their clients happy. It wasn't easy producing luscious green lawns with little to no water.

  Anthony watched as Christy's demeanor slowly changed and despite the scorching weather, she seemed to bloom. He sensed that she'd been set free from her secret and the scrappy, feisty woman he'd met in Vivian's bedroom last year reasserted herself. And it was where she reasserted herself that surprised and concerned him.

  She'd become a regular at Camp Sawgrass. She never participated in or approved of some of their more sinister activities, but she did take it upon herself to protect the women that regularly showed up there. He'd caught her more than once reading the riot act to one of his men for mistreating one of the girls, and he'd finally forbade her from showing up at the camp without him. He knew that no one would ever dare touch her, but the men secretly groaned and complained about her, and Anthony couldn't blame them. She could be a tyrant when her nurturing instincts surfaced to protect the wayward and lost souls that found their way to the camp.