After Dark by Beverly Barton Page B

Lane massaged her temples with circular swirls of her index fingers.
    â€œDid he think Kent was Will’s father just because that’s what Sharon put on the birth certificate?”
    â€œHe asked me if he or Kent was Will’s father.”
    â€œWhat did you tell him?”
    â€œThe truth.”
    Lillie Mae released a long, relieved sigh. “Did you tell him everything? I mean about how Sharon came to you wanting money for an abortion and how y’all tricked Kent into adopting Will?”
    Lane picked up the cup of tea. “Yes. I explained how and why Kent and I married and adopted Will and that until Sharon’s deathbed confession, Kent believed Will was his son.”
    â€œWhy that girl of mine had to get religion before she died and confess her sins is beyond me.” Tears gathered in the corners of Lillie Mae’s faded gray eyes. “I loved her, my Sharon. But Lord knows she wasn’t worth shootin’. I guess folks thought that her dying the way she did, from AIDS, was punishment for her sins. But it wasn’t God’s punishment. It was her own doing. If she hadn’t been hooked on them drugs, she’d never have come down with that horrible disease.”
    Lane kept silent. She agreed with Lillie Mae’s assessment of Sharon’s wasted life, but where Lillie Mae had a right to malign Will’s biological mother, Lane didn’t. After all, Sharon had given her something she otherwise would never have had—Johnny Mack’s baby.
    â€œSo, Johnny Mack knows the truth.” Lillie Mae glanced at Lane, her gaze speculative. “But you didn’t tell him any details about your marriage to Kent, did you? You didn’t tell him what a high price you paid for Will’s life.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t tell him. And I don’t want you sharing my secrets with him, either. Do you understand?”
    â€œYes, I understand. I understand only too well.”
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    The fact that his grandmother met him at the door instead of one of the servants told Will how eager she was to see him. Maybe he shouldn’t think of Edith Ware as his grandmother anymore, now that he knew Kent wasn’t his father. But how could he turn off his emotions? Miss Edith, as everyone referred to her out of respect for her position in the community, had always been his doting grandmother, someone who had lavished attention and money on him all his life.
    Edith reached over and squeezed his arm, a sad, uncertain look in her eyes. “Thank you for coming, Will. I know that things have been strained between us since your father’s—since Kent’s death.”
    â€œYes, ma’am. I suppose, since you believed Kent was my real father, finding out that he wasn’t came as a big shock to you.”
    â€œYes, of course. It was a major shock to all of us, except Lane, who had known all along that—”
    â€œI don’t want you to say anything against my mother,” Will said. His stomach knotted painfully. He wasn’t going to listen to Miss Edith making accusations against his mother. Not now or ever. He might be only fourteen, and others might consider him just a kid, but he knew things. He knew that his mother had suffered more than anyone else. He had heard the things Kent had said to her before their divorce. He knew the way Kent had treated her. And now, with Kent dead, people thought she had murdered him. But he knew better. His mother couldn’t kill anyone. Not unless it was in self-defense or to protect someone she loved.
    â€œAs you wish,” Edith replied. “We won’t discuss Lane. Not tonight. At the moment I have a more urgent problem.” Edith ushered Will into the marble-floored foyer and closed the door behind him. “Mary Martha is quite agitated and we can’t calm her. Jackie has suggested giving her a sedative, but my poor girl has been overmedicated since Kent’s death. And sometimes the