The Truth is in the Wine by Curtis Bunn

to me and asked me if I was OK. I couldn’t talk; I nodded my head. He leaned over and hugged me and kissed me on my face and pulled the covers back over top of me.
    â€œHe said, ‘Go to sleep, baby. I will be back to check on you later. Sweet dreams.’ Then he pulled Uncle Ambrose up off the floor and dragged him out of the room.…never saw Uncle Ambrose again.”
    Madeline had a look of shock on her face. For several seconds, she did not say anything. Paul and Brenda were riveted to Ginger’s words and did not know what to say. Finally, Madeline broke her silence.
    â€œIt all makes sense now,” she said. “I know exactly the night you are speaking of, baby. That was the night your uncle was found not far from our house, beaten almost to death. No one ever knew what happened to him.
    â€œThe last person to see him was one of our neighbors who said he swore he saw Ambrose go into our house that night. And he saw your father go into the house a little while later. But he never saw Ambrose come out. The police questioned us—everyone who was next door at the card game, the neighbors—and accordingto them, that was the last time he was seen in a healthy condition, walking into the front door of our house.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, it makes sense now, Momma?” Ginger asked.
    â€œI’m so sorry,” she said.
    â€œFor what, Momma?”
    â€œI left you alone and my brother would have probably raped you if your father hadn’t come home when he did,” Madeline said. “Ambrose was sick; he wasn’t playing with a full deck. There were times when everyone was afraid of him. He was liable to do anything. But your father told me—and I’ll never forget his words— he said: ‘Maddy, if he puts a hand on you or Ginger I swear to you I will kill him.’
    â€œYour father had never spoken to me with such force and conviction about anything. I knew he meant it.”
    â€œWhat are you saying? That Daddy killed Uncle Ambrose?”
    Madeline looked away, toward the mountains that sandwiched Interstate 80.
    â€œMother,” Ginger pleaded.
    â€œHe didn’t technically kill him,” Madeline said, turning to her daughter. “When Ambrose was found, he was alive, but really in bad shape. He was in the hospital for several days and then one day had a heart attack and died. So, that’s what was on his death certificate. The doctors couldn’t tell if the beating he took played a role in his death.
    â€œBut all makes sense now. That night, when I finally saw your father, he was sweating and exhausted and acting weird, like something was bothering him. For the longest time, he seemed different. You didn’t know Ambrose died because your father told me not to tell you. He said you were too young and you didn’t need to know about death at such a young age.
    â€œI went along with it because he was my husband and it wasn’t an outrageous request. Richard was very solemn at the funeral, but not sad, if you know what I mean. He seemed down, but not sad that Ambrose was dead. He was carrying a heavy burden. I always felt it but now I realize that he had beaten my brother to the brink of death.
    â€œAnd he was sitting there through his funeral listening to people get up there and talk about how much they loved him and how much of a good man he was. He was my brother and I did love him; we grew up in the same house. But Ambrose had some issues. He functioned OK and worked, but we used to say in the family that we wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up being anything from a bank robber to a serial killer.”
    â€œOh, my God,” Ginger said. “You’re saying Daddy killed a man?”
    â€œAgain, he died of a heart attack,” Madeline said. “But the guy who lived next door saw Richard go in the house after Ambrose, but he didn’t see either of them come out of the house. That’s because