In The Grace of Liars

"Yes ma'am."

"You get moved into that place and you bring some life and some love back into it. So many good memories still live there. All these years I couldn't bear to go back there, but I'm so glad that it's yours now. I think it was always meant for you and Andi." she said.

"Aunt M, I love you, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

"I love you too Chris. You haven't been disrespectful; you were always a good boy and you've grown into a fine man. Your mother would be so proud of you. And I'm sorry too. I'm so sorry."

###

So I wouldn't get anything from Aunt M. and she had closed the door on asking Andi's mom anything. Sure, I could have called her anyway but if the reaction would be anything like Aunt Marjorie's reaction -- and Aunt M. had told me as much -- then it would be a fruitless endeavor. Besides, I told her I wouldn't bother Aunt Janice about it and no doubt they would talk; sisters do that.

I tried to call Jesse, but his new receptionist, Rita reminded me that he hopped a plane to Europe on business and wouldn't be keeping his cell phone on. I could email him of course, but he had already done so much for me in the past week, I just didn't want to bother him with it. Six years had passed already so what was a few more weeks? I decided that Jesse would be the one to give me my answers but it would have to wait. In the mean time I could busy myself with getting moved into the camp but the unanswered questions were never far from my mind.

Over the next few days we got Andi's things moved and what we didn't have room for at the camp, we put in a storage unit not far from her apartment. The stuff I still had at my apartment could wait a while longer and we wanted to get the house cleaned up and back to a livable condition.

Now that there were multiple beds available I thought it would be best if we slept in separate rooms. I had second thoughts about what Andi and I were getting up to the night we found Mom's purse. Don't get me wrong, I still wanted her and she was still dropping enough hints for me to trip on if I didn't watch my step. I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't enjoying the little dance we were doing but I couldn't get completely comfortable with things progressing as far as they had before. For one, she was still my cousin, no matter how sexy she was. Secondly, it wasn't lost on me that my own mother cock-blocked me from beyond the grave the night Andi and I tripped on her purse. Somehow that felt a little like divine intervention and it had me uneasy about the whole thing.

Andi was visibly disappointed with the new sleeping arrangements but she didn't say anything about it. She wouldn't take the master bedroom downstairs though I told her she could. She instead slept upstairs in the same room that she and I shared as kids.

In spite of my misgivings about what we did, I couldn't keep the memory of it out of my head. It became something of a routine for me to relive that experience on a nightly basis. Seemingly every time my head hit the pillow at night, I would conjure up images of Andi's breasts in my hands; relive the experience of her nipples in my mouth and her crotch grinding against my erection. Again and again I thought about what it would have felt like had we not tripped. Had we made it to the bed, I'd have been inside her -- that blissful, warm softness enveloping me and coaxing me to orgasm. I could never get to sleep until I dispelled those images by stroking myself until I came. Some nights I thought for sure I could hear the buzzing of a vibrator but by the time I finished, the sound was gone. As such I could never really be sure if it was my imagination being fueled by my raging libido or if Andi was actually upstairs, bringing herself off while I was doing the same thing in my bed.

One thing that we figured out almost right away (OK, Andi figured it out) was that we had no way to wash clothes. When we would stay here as kids our moms would take the laundry to a coin-op laundry in town. We certainly didn't want to be running into town every few days to sit at a laundry and wait on clothes to wash and dry. Uncle Dave had installed plumbing in the garage and electrical outlets for a washer and dryer. I guess things went south before he had a chance to actually get the washer and dryer. Between bouts of cleaning and moving things I managed to order a set and arranged to have them installed.

The delivery truck arrived in a cloud of dust kicked up from the dirt road that served as the driveway to the camp. I suppressed a groan as an old man stepped out of the drivers seat. This was going to take a while, I thought. The old man walked up to me and shook my hand.

"Earl Pickens. I've got a washer and dryer on that truck for a Mr. Christopher Mason. Would that be you, sir?" The old man spoke with a drawl that you might expect from a small town handyman.

"That's me. Nice to meet you Mr. Pickens."

"Bah, call me Earl. I already feel old enough without youngsters standing on formalities on account of my age." He smiled and winked at me. I could tell that Earl was a good natured old man and couldn't help smiling back at him.

"Alright, Earl it is. You can call me Chris."

"Well, show me where you want 'em."

I helped Earl wrestle the two big machines off the back of the truck and on to his dolly. We made rather short work of getting them in place, though I backed off and let him do the hook-up. Earl and I made small talk while we worked, though towards the end he was doing most of the work. He was tinkering with the hoses that ran to the washer from the house plumbing when our chatter was broken by a loud snap and a hollered curse from Earl.

"You OK?" I asked.

"Goddamn, made-in-China, communist tools! Look at that!" he said, holding up two separate pieces of what once was a set of channel-lock pliers. "Second pair in two months that have broke on me." A thin line of blood ran from his thumb and down his wrist.

"You're bleeding, Earl."

"Bah, that's not the problem. The problem is I don't have another pair of pliers. You don't happen to have a set of channel-locks, do you?" he asked, dismissing his wound all together.

"I'll have to check inside. Why don't you come in, it might take me a minute to find them."

Earl followed me into the house where Andi was washing the dishes from breakfast. True to form she was dressed to tease and Earl got an eye full of bare legs and a beautifully filled pair of shorts which seemed to take some of the fight out of him. I pulled out a bar stool and invited him to sit.

"Andi, this is Mr. Earl Pickens, he's installing the washer and dryer." I made the introduction as I began searching the cabinets for a toolbox that I thought I remembered being there.

Andi turned from her dishes and smiled as she raised a soapy hand for a quick wave. "Hello!"

Earl's grin could have been lecherous if he hadn't been so well mannered. He tipped an imaginary hat and said, "Good morning miss. Sorry to intrude on your home this way."

"You're bleeding!" Andi said, immediately grabbing a towel to dry her hands.

"Oh, it's alright. Happens when you work with your hands. It'll be good as new in a couple of weeks." he said.

"No, no. Let me see," she said, walking over to bar where he was sitting.

She took his hand in hers and examined the cut.

"It's not deep. Hang on, I've got some band-aids upstairs."

"Oh, miss, that's really OK. I'll be fine."

"I insist. And you can call me Andi. I'm not old enough to be a 'miss' anything."

"While I disagree, I know just what you mean," he made a gesture with his hand for emphasis. "And from all my years on this earth I've learned one thing for sure," Earl said.

"And what's that, Mr. Pickens?" Andi asked.

"When a pretty lady insists I do something, it's beyond me to do otherwise. I'll sit here till the roosters crow if it means I'll get to see your smiling face again. That is, if your husband here doesn't kick me out first." Earl had a gleam in his eye and his tone was playful. He was shamelessly flirting with Andi and she was eating it up. I might have been jealous if he wasn't so jolly and light hearted about the whole thing.

Andi smiled and shot me a glance. "Well Mr. Pickens, I think that's just about the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day, but I promise, I won't keep you waiting that long."

"Thank you ma'am."

By that time I had located the old tool-box and rummaged through it until I found a pair of channel-locks. Andi disappeared up the stairs as I handed the pliers to Earl.

"We're not married," I corrected him.

"No? That's a shame, you two make a smart couple."

"We're not really a couple either."

"You may think that son, but the way that woman looked at you just now tells me otherwise."

"Yeah, well..." My response was cut short as Andi came bounding back down the stairs.

"See? That wasn't long at all," Andi said as she captured Earls hand in her own again. Gently Andi wiped the blood from his hand with a damp tissue, tenderly blotting it up before placing the band-aid on his thumb.

"There. All fixed up," she said.

Earl thanked her for the band-aid and we walked back to the garage to finish up. It only took a few minutes to finish hooking up the washer and the dryer took even less time than that. Earl ran them both to test that they were functional and then headed for his truck. I walked him out, thanking him for the work he did and apologized for his injured thumb.

"Oh, it's part of the job," he said, pausing with his hand on the door handle of his truck. Then, turning to me, "She's a fine woman, Chris. I knew a lady like her once and I let her slip away. Don't make the same mistake I did son. Hang on to that one."

"I wish it were that simple," I said.

"How do you mean?"

"She's my cousin," I replied.

"Hah! Well, I guess there's people out there that get all bent outta shape about that."

"You mean you don't?"

"Me? Hell, I wouldn't be here if my grandparents hadn't married -- they were cousins. It's a big family secret. Not much of one really but my brothers and sisters didn't like to talk about it. Some of them thought it was shameful I guess. I say it is what it had to be. You can't pick who you fall in love with son. Einstein knew that and he was plenty smarter than me."

"Yeah? I thought Einstein was a physicist. What's he got to say about love?" I asked.

"Nothing that I know of but it's a well known fact that he was quite the ladies man, and yet he married his cousin. I figure that says just about all there is to say."

"I didn't know that." I said.

"Most people don't remember that about him. It was all the talk for a while back in my day."

"Well, at any rate, I don't think my mother would approve." I said, trying to drop the subject. This conversation had become a bit uncomfortable.

"Oh, I don't know, Chris. You might be surprised at how understanding she would have been about matters of the heart."

"You talk like you knew her."

"I did," he said. "I wasn't sure you were her son until I saw that fancy car in the garage, but that's sure enough Terri's car."

This, I thought, was an interesting turn. "How did you know her?" I asked.

"My wife runs the laundry in town. Well, she used to. She's retired now, but your mother used to come in all the time during the summers. They were good friends. My wife misses her terribly. It was a lovely service they had for her. I remember seeing you there, son, though I'm not surprised that you don't remember me."

This was an unexpected opportunity and one that I was going to take full advantage of. "I'm sorry, I don't. Mr. Pickens, what do you know about the night my mother died?"

"Well, it's been some years ago, I'm afraid my memory isn't what it used to be. It was a car accident, wasn't it?"

"Yes sir. Do you remember if there was someone in the car with her?" I asked.

Earl looked thoughtful and I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he searched his memory. Finally, he shook his head, "I couldn't say."

"Do you think your wife might remember?"

Earls face grew dark. I thought I might have touched on a nerve. "Well, maybe if you'd have asked her two years ago. She had a stroke. On her good days she can remember my name, but she doesn't have many of those I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry Mr. Pickens, I shouldn't have asked."

"Oh, no, no. It's OK, son. Mind if I wonder why you're asking?"

"I was a teenager when she died. I don't think my family gave me the whole story. When I ask them about it now they all clam up and won't tell me anything."

"I see. Well, we all have family secrets. It's a shame that your people won't tell you what you want to know but if they're anything like my family, there's a reason for it. I don't imagine you'll take too kindly to this, but some things are better left alone, son." he said as he put his hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah. I'm hearing a lot of that lately."

###

We were just about done cleaning the place up. Andi was ecstatic about the new washer and dryer and didn't waste any time putting them to use. By the time noon rolled around, Andi was a hot mess. She hadn't changed out of the shorts and t-shirt that she wore in the morning, but through the day had picked up all manner of grime, not to mention a film of sweat that caused her t-shirt to cling to her skin. Even dirty and sweaty, all I could think about was how beautiful she was. She radiated sexual energy with every movement. I had a hard time concentrating on anything that day though I had plenty to keep me busy.

I passed through the living room with a box full of things from my apartment that I couldn't find room for in the master bedroom. As I approached the staircase I saw Andi staring at the wall behind the TV that was covered with family pictures -- most of them taken here at the camp. Some were very old and held little meaning for either of us. Pictures of grand-parents, who we barely knew before they died, or great-grand-parents who we never knew at all were sprinkled among various pictures of my mother posing with her sisters, one of my parents together and a few of Aunt Janice and Uncle Dave together. All of the frames matched and they were hung meticulously, even and level and very deliberately placed in a diamond pattern.

I set my box down on the couch and walked up behind Andi.

"Whatcha doin?" I asked.

"Trying to decide what's going to go to make room for this," she said, holding up the picture of her and I in the canoe that she had retrieved from my apartment.

"Hmmm," I said, surveying the pictures with a critical eye. "Maybe that one?" I pointed at a picture that was full of people that I'm sure I didn't know.

"That's what I was thinking. I don't know any of those people -- it looks a little out of place, don't you think?" she asked.

"Yep."

She reached up and pulled the frame off it's hanger on the wall and began turning the catches on the back of the frame to remove the picture. She pulled the back off the frame and the picture fell away along with the glass which shattered on the floor.

"Shit!" she yelled as she jumped away from the flying glass.

"No problem. Just use the glass from the other frame. Looks like it should fit."

"Yeah, it just scared me. I wasn't expecting it to fall to pieces like that."

I bent down to start picking up the shards of glass that littered the floor at our feet. Andi joined the effort and grabbed the photo, lifting it out of the mess. As she lifted it gingerly by the corner to avoid the sharp edges of the broken glass, a second picture fell away.

"What's that?" I asked.

Andi picked it up as and studied it for a moment and then flipped it over. She looked perplexed as she read the writing on the back of the photo.

"What is it?" I repeated.

Andi responded by handing me the picture. It was a photo of my mother Terri and her mother Janice standing side by side, each with an arm over the others shoulder and a hand reaching out to the very pregnant belly of the other. They both beamed at the camera, smiling broadly and obviously very proud of what must be either the eighth or ninth month of pregnancy. What made this picture so strange was that I was two years older than Andi and she didn't have any brothers or sisters.

I flipped the picture over and read the writing on the back. It read, "Terri w/ Christopher and Janice w/ Erica" under which was scrawled the date which was about two weeks before I was born.

"Ever heard your mother talk about an Erica?" I asked.

Andi shook her head, a troubled look on her face.

"Maybe she lost the baby?" I suggested.

"Maybe. She just never mentioned it to me."

"Well, if she did lose the baby it's probably a pretty painful memory for her. Maybe why the picture was covered up."

"That's possible, I guess."

"You could ask her about it."

Andi thought for a moment and then shook her head. "After our last fight I really don't care to talk to her again. Not for a while anyway."

I nodded. If that was her choice, I wouldn't push her.

"Well, it's certainly not the first mystery that we've uncovered here." I said as we finished cleaning up the glass.

###

All in all it was an exhausting day and by the time the sun went down I was ready to sack out. As had been my habit lately, as soon as I was in the bed, my mind -- weary as it was -- still fell back to Andi. I hadn't been alone in my room for ten minutes before I had my cock in my hand, thinking of her and the night we almost had sex. And like clockwork, I heard the now familiar buzzing noise coming from upstairs. It was so faint as to be barely audible but I was sure now that it was definitely there.

I thought about Andi, upstairs in the bed, rubbing herself with a vibrator -- needing release as badly as I did. To this day I don't know how I managed to summon the nerve to do what I did next. It was an out-right invasion of her privacy and even now as I write this I feel shame for what I did. I had to see her. I needed to see her, or if not see her at least be closer to her.

I pulled on my shorts and tip-toed out of my room, carefully navigating the stairs to minimize any chance of the steps creaking and giving me away. All the while and with every additional step that I took I could almost hear my Aunt Marjorie's voice in my head. 'Christopher Mason, what would your mother say?' But again I succumbed to my more animal desires, the burning need inside of me pushing my guilt and shame aside, diluting it in a cocktail of testosterone and raw, animal lust. As I ascended the stair case the buzzing sound got louder, confirming what I already knew. When I reached the top, I peeked around the corner and saw that her door was open just a crack.

Andi lay on the bed, only half covered by the sheet. Her legs were spread open, exposing her pussy to the air as one hand slowly worked a long, light pink vibrator up and down her slit. Her other hand was under her shirt, pinching and tugging at her nipple. Ever so softly she moaned as she worked the vibrator across her glistening, pink wetness.

Even as I peered into her room I couldn't believe what I was doing. Spying on my cousin while she pleasured herself like some kind of peeping tom. I felt even more the pervert as the scene before me unfolded and the stimulation became too much for me to ignore any longer. I reached into my shorts and started stroking my cock in time with Andi's movements.

She writhed in the bed and moaned a little louder, pinching and twisting her nipple under her shirt and dipping the tip of the vibrator into her wet hole. I watched the single most erotic thing I had ever seen to that point in awe and fascination. It was a vision that would stay with me for the rest of my days. Andi was a work of sexual artistry and despite my shame for what I was doing I thanked my stars that I was here to see it.