Chapter 4 - The Ghost of Family
Seven years after Daniel’s funeral, the past crawled back out of the woodwork disguised as a phone call.
It was a Tuesday afternoon in late September. Beth was in the south paddock inspecting a three-month-old colt with correct bone structure and a striking bay coat when her cell phone buzzed in her back pocket. She pulled it out, wiping dust from the screen, and saw the caller ID: Travis.
Her younger brother. Aside from a few awkward holiday cards sent to Ruth’s address that Beth had promptly ignored, she hadn't spoken to Travis or her parents since the night of the porch light.
She swiped to answer, keeping her eyes on the colt. "Travis."
"Beth!" Her brother’s voice came through, loud, breezy, and entirely too energetic, as if they had spoken just yesterday about weekend football plans. "Man, it is so good to hear your voice. How have you been? Mom and Dad say hi, by the way. They ask about you all the time."
Beth’s jaw tightened. "Skip the preamble, Travis. Why are you calling?"
There was a brief, awkward silence on the other end before Travis gave a nervous, high-pitched laugh. "Well, you know how it is. Business is business. I’ve been expanding my fitness franchise—got three locations now across Austin and Round Rock. Incredible branding, state-of-the-art equipment. But, you know, cash flow crunch right before the fourth-quarter lease renewals."
"Get to the point."
"Right. So I’m putting together a small investors’ round, and I figured, hey, we’re family. I could use a ninety-thousand-dollar bridge loan. Easy terms, family rate, you know? You get a great ROI, and I get my third location off the ground without dealing with predatory commercial banks."
Beth stopped walking. She looked across the pasture toward the windmill, the wind rustling the dry grass around her boots.
"Travis," she said softly, her voice dangerously calm. "Do you remember where I was seven years ago?"
"Oh, come on, Beth, are we really bringing that up?" Travis scoffed, his tone instantly shifting from wheedling charm to defensive annoyance. "That was years ago. People make mistakes under stress. Mom was stressed about Dad’s health, and you showed up out of nowhere demanding—"
"I didn't demand anything. I needed a bed for my children," Beth interrupted, her voice rising, cutting through the static. "My husband was in the ground eleven days. Mom turned off the porch light and locked the door while my babies were sitting in freezing car seats. And now, out of the blue, you have the unmitigated gall to call me asking for ninety thousand dollars?"
"You can't hold one bad moment against the whole family!" Travis shouted back. "We’re your blood! Mom and Dad are getting older; they’ve mellowed out. They talk about you all the time, wondering why you’re so bitter, why you won’t let them see their grandchildren. You're being completely dramatic."
"I’m not being dramatic, Travis. I’m being accurate," Beth said. "I help people who showed up. You didn't show up. My in-laws showed up. Good luck with your gym."
She hit end call before he could sputter another word. Her chest was heaving, adrenaline flooding her veins. She stood by the fence for a long time, watching the horses graze, letting the anger wash over her and recede like tide water.
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She thought she had closed that chapter permanently. She thought her family was a ghost story left behind in Tyler.
She was wrong. Two days later, an accidental oversight by Travis would blow the lid off a secret that made the porch light look like a minor betrayal.
