Page 56 of Queen of Ruin

I turn back towards the house, trying to imagine what it would have looked like when my father lived here – if the shutters were painted white, or if there were flowers planted in the front yard.

I turn back toward Evangeline, resting my hand against my mouth.

“What do you think Rausch wanted you to find here?”

Shrugging, I remark, “He likes to fuck with me.” I wave my hand at the abandoned house as proof. “What he said was that despite what I thought, he didn’t know everything about my father.”

“You don’t believe that?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing here or what I thought I’d find. Does it even really matter anymore?” I ask, facing her.

“He’s the only family you have. If that isn’t a good reason, I don’t know what is.”

A knock on the window startles me, and I turn to see an older woman staring back at me with a very angry expression. I roll down the window cautiously.

“If you’re one of them investors looking to knock down my house and build one of those McMansions, I’m here to tell you that we don’t want that in this neighborhood.” She jabs her finger at me.

I shake my head. “I’m not an investor.” She steps back as I open the car door and get out.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” She places both her hands on her hips and looks me up and down.

Granted, my expensive looking attire and choice of car doesn’t exactly scream humble American innocently sitting in front of an abandoned house, so I get why she doesn’t trust me, aside from me being a stranger.

“Do you know the family that used to live here?”

“Who’s asking?”

I hold out my hand but she just stares at me with a weary expression. “I’m Darren Walker.”

There’s a flicker of recognition in her eyes but she still questions me. “That supposed to mean something?”

“I think my grandfather used to live here. Gregory Allen Walker?” I probe cautiously, the word grandfather feeling a bit forced and foreign on my tongue, which she notices.

“You think?” She rears her head back, examining me. “If he was your grandfather, then shouldn’t you know if he lived here or not?”

I can’t help but chuckle, and I feel sorry for any actual investor who comes to make her an offer. “I didn’t know him. He had a falling out with my father a long time ago.”

She looks me over again, studying my face as if she’s looking for something. I suppose when her expression softens a bit, she recognizes the traits strong enough to be passed down to both my father and me.

“Yeah, I knew the Walkers. What do you want with him?”

“He came to my father’s funeral.” The minute I say it her posture changes, lowering her arms to her side, the angry lines disappearing from her face.

“You’re Senator Kerry Walker’s son?” she asks.

“You know him then.”

“Everyone knows him.”

I give her a hopeful smile.

“Didn’t like his politics much, but I was sorry to hear that he passed,” she apologizes, her southern accent becoming more prominent as if letting down her guard.

“I didn’t get a chance to talk to my grandfather, and this was the last known address I have.” I rub the back of my neck, wondering once again if I made the right decision coming here. My heart says no, that this house just stirs up more memories, but he’s the only family I have left, and there’s a part of me that wants to know him, even if it was bad – especially if it was bad, because then maybe I can finally put to rest these questions that keep me up at night.

“You really aren’t here to tear down the house, are you?” she speculates, the skepticism now fully chipped away.

“No.” I shake my head. “I just thought… I thought I would find some answers, I guess, but it doesn’t look like this house has been lived in for a long time.”

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