His voice stopped her halfway up the stairs. “Mom?”
She stopped, her heart jumping to conclusions. “Yes.”
“When’s the cable coming?”
Her shoulders sagged. “Tomorrow morning.”
“Good.”
Lily heard the music as he turned it back on. She was about to go back and do what she knew she should—tell him the cable, and all other privileges, would come when he earned them. But tonight she was just too tired for the argument.
She climbed the rest of the stairs, bone-weary and sick at heart. God, give me the strength to pull him back and the wisdom to know how to start.
The next afternoon, after the cable guy left, Lily forced herself to get on with it. She stood just outside the screen door that opened into the kitchen of the Crossing House Tavern. It was nearly four o’clock and preparations for the evening trade were getting under way. She heard the sounds of pots clanking and dishes rattling as someone pulled them from the dishwasher and stacked them on the shelf over the stainless steel worktable. There was the muffled clatter of glassware being carried out to the bar in their plastic dishwasher trays. A warm comfort bloomed in Lily’s chest. It was as if she’d never left.
In her mind, she could see the heavy black iron skillets and the no-frills white stoneware, gray-marked from years of knives and forks scraping across their surfaces, the frosted beer mugs and stainless steel bowls filled with peanuts.
“Evening, Henry!” Her dad’s voice carried out the door.
Lily smiled when she heard the once-familiar booming greeting. Henry Calverson was still the cook—and apparently still without a hearing aid.
Henry was one of those fixtures from childhood that was always there but never really thought about, like running water and electricity. Something that would be sorely missed if taken away. Lily was taken by surprise at the flood of happiness she felt knowing he was still here.
She waited, listening a few moments longer, unwilling to interrupt the soothing sounds of routine with her arrival. She had spent so many years closing her mind to this place, shutting this town out of her life, that she was startled to realize that coming home could feel so good. She savored the moment, the warmth of reminiscence, before the barbs and stings of reality set in.
“Why, lookee here!” Henry shouted—his normal speaking voice. He never had adjusted to the fact that he couldn’t hear but everyone else still could. “Benny!” he called to her father as he threw the screen door open and pulled Lily inside. “Lily’s here. By God, Lily’s come home!” He threw his sinewy arms around her and hugged her close.
Lily was surprised at his strength. Henry had to be seventy-five, a man of average height and way below average weight—from the feel of his grip he was nothing but bone and gristly muscle.
He held her at arm’s length and looked her over. “Still pretty as a picture. Now, where’s that baby? Benny said he didn’t get your blue eyes, but has that hair of yours. Brown sugar sprinkled with cinnamon.”
She pushed her hair behind her ear, a reaction of self-consciousness left over from a childhood in which everyone commented about her having her mother’s hair. Any connection with the woman who’d abandoned her family made Lily wiggle beneath her skin. Leaning closer to Henry so she didn’t have to shout quite so loud, she said, “That baby is thirteen years old! He’s at home watching MTV.”
Henry shook his head and muttered something about time slipping away. Then he said, “Home? You didn’t bring him to Glens Crossing, then?” He frowned.
“Oh, no. I mean he’s at the lake house—where we’re staying. Peter’s family’s place.”
Henry nodded. Something flashed in his eyes, a question unasked, an opinion unuttered. After her mother ran off with a liquor salesman when Lily was eight, Henry had stepped up his protective attitude, especially about Lily and her little sister, Molly. Since he’d had no children of his own, she supposed she and Henry pretty much looked at each other as surrogate family. She didn’t like to be the cause of the uneasiness she saw in his face at the moment and was glad when her dad came crashing through the swinging door.
“There’s my girl!” He moved quickly toward her and Lily found herself lost in the bulk of his embrace. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Then he stilled. “Something’s wrong.” A statement, not a question. Her dad always did have the best emotional radar in the county.
She didn’t know if she was relieved that he sensed it, or more on edge because she couldn’t skate through this initial homecoming with the pretense of carefree happiness. What she did know was that she couldn’t find her voice at the moment, so she simply shook her head.
Her dad didn’t push, he just stood there, arms around her, rocking her gently side to side. God, it felt good to be the child again, if only for a few moments.
Finally, she felt she had the strength to stand on her own again. “I’m fine.” As she said this, she found herself swiping at a tear.
Dad just stared at her with those big brown eyes. Had his hair been completely silver the last time she’d seen him? It shamed her that she couldn’t remember.
“It’s a long story, Dad. I promise to tell you the whole thing, but right now you’ve got customers.” She nodded toward the swinging door, where one of the waitresses stood with an order in her hand and a look on her face that was a cross between annoyance and complete confusion.
“Faye, this is my daughter, Lily.”
Some of the confusion cleared from the woman’s face—none of the annoyance.
Lily said, “Nice to meet you, Faye.”
Faye nodded and stuck her pen behind her ear. It immediately became lost in the cloud of russet hair. “Benny, the beer tap’s out.” She clipped her order on the end of the stainless worktable.
“All right.” He turned back to Lily.
Apparently, Faye wasn’t satisfied. “It’s Friday night, won’t be long ’til we’ll be overrun.”
Benny cut a sharp look her way. “I said, all right.”
Faye disappeared back through the swinging door. She hit it hard enough that it swung back and forth three times before stopping.
Benny said, “Faye’s been here so long, she forgets who owns the place.” He put an arm around Lily and moved toward the door. “Come sit at the bar while I change that keg.”
As he led her from the kitchen, she realized this was the first time she’d been inside the bar/dining room during operating hours. When she’d married Peter she was only eighteen—Dad had stuck to his guns about twenty-one means twenty-one until the day she left. The closest she’d ever been to the bar was the kitchen door, and that hadn’t been until she was almost eleven. By then, considering the years of being denied a glimpse, her imagination had taken on all sorts of ideas about the mysterious interior.
One day, one of the waitresses had noticed her straining to see through the swinging door and stopped. She looked at Lily and said, “No sense in breakin’ your neck. Here, take a good look.” And she held the door fully open.
Of course, the bar was closed, otherwise she wouldn’t have been allowed on the first floor at all. So Lily had to imagine what it was like filled with people and music and cigarette smoke. As she’d looked around, there was none of the mystique she’d envisioned. It was just a big room with short windows high on the wall opposite the bar.
The wall with the windows was lined with red vinyl booths over which hung stained-glass lamps. Then there was a row of six square tables set at an angle to the corners of the room, a jukebox and an old walnut bar lined with backless stools, also in red vinyl. Behind the bar was a large plate-glass mirror and shelves filled with bottles of liquor. On the far end, to one side of the front door, was a dartboard. The pool table was tucked out of her range of sight, in the back beside the kitchen.
As Lily now looked at it with her thirty-two-year-old eyes, she realized the place looked just the same, maybe a little more worn. She couldn’t help but hesitate as she crossed the t
hreshold, feeling she was breaking the rules.
Benny stopped and looked at her. “What’s wrong?”
She smiled and shrugged. “Just seems weird. I’ve never been in the bar before.”
He gave her one of his low-key laughs and hugged her against his side. “It has been a long time. But you’re legal now, kiddo.” They went through the door.
Benny went behind the bar, Lily walked beside the stools. She settled on one as he bent to change the beer keg.
He said, “Molly called yesterday.” His head was out of sight, stuck under the bar, muffling his voice. “Said she’s going to try to make it home for a week this summer. Not sure when, said med school is really wearing her out.”
Lily warmed with pride. Molly was going to be a pediatrician. “I hope she makes it before I leave.”
Benny’s head popped up, his eyes peering over the walnut edge of the bar. “Leave? You just got here. I figured you’d stay through Riley’s summer vacation—with his dad in the hospital and all.”
Oh, boy. “Dad, our divorce was final two weeks ago.”
He came to his feet and leaned over the bar. “Is that why you’re back here? I thought you were trying to work things out.”
“That’s partly why I’m here.” She decided to leave their discussion about Riley to a more private moment.
Benny straightened and narrowed his eyes. “He got a girlfriend?”
Lily smiled sadly. If only it were that cut-and-dried. “No, Dad.”
“Now, Lily, tell me true, I know he’s got a drinking problem. Did he hit you?”
“Peter’s getting help for the drinking. I wouldn’t leave him because of an illness. And no, he was never a violent drunk—just the opposite. He got quiet—depressed.” She sighed, suddenly feeling very, very tired. “We’re still friends—that was what we always did best anyhow, be friends. Peter needs to get himself straightened out. But I’m not sure we were ever good for each other married.” Her voice drifted lower.
Benny’s gaze sharpened on her. “You belong here, Lily. Maybe if you and Peter had settled in at the lake house…”
Lily shook her head. “I can’t see that would have helped anything.” She couldn’t think of anything more detrimental to her marriage than being face to face with memories of Clay Winters every day. But, of course, her dad didn’t know about her and Clay. “Besides, you know how people are around here. It’s always been sort of a love-hate relationship with the lake people. Can’t see how my switching teams would have worked out.”
Benny waved a hand in the air. “Pffft. You always made too much of that sort of thing. You just gotta give people a chance to show you their true nature.”
“Hmmm.” Lily didn’t venture into that territory. It was an old discussion. “I’d better get back to Riley. Can you come for lunch tomorrow?”
The smile on her dad’s face made her regret all of the missed lunches over the past years. “That’d be great.”
She slid off the stool and headed toward the kitchen to say goodbye to Henry. Just as she went through the swinging door, she turned back around and waved to her dad. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a man coming through the front door. He was silhouetted against the bright light behind him. But there was something in the tilt of his head that shot a flash of familiarity through her. As she was turning to get a better look, Faye pushed her the rest of the way through the door. Lily tried to get another glimpse as the door swung back, but it didn’t swing wide enough.
“Comin’ through!” Faye maneuvered Lily out of the way as she passed back through the door with a tray full of salads.
“Watch out, Lily, she’ll knock you over. I got the bruises to prove it.” Henry had Lily by the elbow.
It occurred to Lily that if she was going down, Henry’s hundred pounds wouldn’t be nearly enough to counter the fall, but she smiled and thanked him.
She was tempted to go back into the bar, just to satisfy her curiosity about the man coming through the door. But she really needed to get back to Riley. She hated leaving him alone for too long, unable to shake the fear that he’d fall into some trouble while her back was turned.
Besides, it could have been anybody. After all, she’d lived in this town for eighteen years. There were a hundred people who might trigger such a reaction. She brushed it off and climbed into her car.
Still, as she drove home, the vague familiarity of the man entering the bar niggled at her memory, refusing to let her be.
Chapter 2
Benny had a difficult time concentrating on his business. Lucky for him, most everybody in the Friday night crowd wanted nothing more complicated than draft beer. That was part of what he loved about this town, its simplicity. Oh, there were a few folks who liked to put on like they were sophisticated city people, ordering martinis and white Russians. But for the most part, Glens Crossing was made up of honest, hardworking people who wanted nothing more than a cold beer to finish out the work week.
His daughter plagued his mind. Lily had always been so dependable, so steady. That child had never given him a minute’s worry. From the time she was a little girl, she had a balanced determination about her—had her head on straight. Even when her mother left, Lily didn’t miss a beat, stepped right in and helped with her little sister, held their family together. But something in her eyes tonight, something he’d never seen there, had him bothered.
For a moment he wished Luke were here, and not off in some godforsaken country, spying on people who wanted to blow the US of A completely off the planet. Luke had always been able to squeeze the troubles out of Lily, the things she kept to herself and worked through on her own. But Luke wasn’t here—in fact, Benny didn’t even know where he was. So it was going to be up to him to help Lily.
“Hey, Benny?”
“Yeah?” Benny blinked and looked at the man seated across from him at the bar. Benny had known him by sight since he was a teenager, as he summered here and ran a bit with Luke. Benny never could keep any of those summer kids’ names straight. But this past year the fella showed back up here and took over the marina at Forrester Lake, so Benny started calling him Bud, same nickname as the previous manager of the marina. Came in once a week, on Friday. Two beers and he’d leave. Quiet guy. Benny liked him.
“Just checking to see if you were still in there,” Bud said.
“Preoccupied, I guess.” Benny gave a shake of his head. “Got a couple things on my mind.”
Bud pushed his beer away, leaned his elbows on the bar and grunted. The nod of his head said he knew the feeling. “Anything you want to tell?”
Benny smiled and drew another beer. “Thanks. But this is something you couldn’t help with. Hell, I don’t even know what the problem is.”
Bud picked up his beer and took a drink. “Well, don’t let it fester. Bad for your soul.”
After a minute, Benny said, “My daughter’s in town.” He didn’t really know what to say beyond that. After all, this guy knew Lily. Besides, he couldn’t really define those troubles to himself. Lily’s worried eyes told him it was more than she was sharing at the moment.
“Ahh, the soon-to-be doctor?”
“No. The other one.” He started to draw another round for the table in the corner. “You remember, the one who learned the hard way not to play with fireworks.” After a brief pause, he added, “She and her husband, Peter—you knew him, didn’t you?” Without waiting for an answer, he said, “Well, they’re divorced.”
Bud slid off his stool, a jerky motion that drew Benny’s gaze from his work. The cold beer foam on his hand told him to shut off the tap. “Something wrong?”
Bud shook his head and fished a few bills from his pocket. He laid them on the counter as he started to back away. “Better go. Tomorrow’s a busy day at the lake.”
Benny nodded. He might never get that fella figured out. Kept to himself for the most part. He did seem to take a shine to Benny. But talking about fishing and the weather was one thing, letti
ng someone in was another matter entirely. Far as he could tell, nobody got in with Bud.
Faye hustled to the bar and rattled off an order. By the time Benny had it filled, his thoughts were back to Lily. He hated the care lines creasing her brow and the way her eyes clouded with worry. Maybe tomorrow’s lunch would clear things up.
Clay shoved his way out the door, a cold sweat pricking his forehead and his beer lying like lead in his stomach.
Lily was here.
Did she know he was in Glens Crossing? He quickly dismissed the possibility. Most everyone around here knew him by the nickname Benny had given him.
As he crossed the parking lot, the crushed stone felt particularly cruel, trying to twist his ankles. He ignored the two or three greetings tossed his way, hunching himself deeper into his shirt collar. Once he reached his motorcycle, he got on, but didn’t trust himself to take it out on the road just yet. It felt like he’d been told someone he loved had died. Even though nearly the opposite was true. Of course, he’d known Lily was alive, but now he discovered their worlds just might be on a collision course.
When he’d run into Luke eighteen months ago in Madrid, of course the subject of Lily and Peter had come up. There had been no way to avoid it. Luke hadn’t known about his sister and Clay, nobody had—Lily had made certain of that. So Clay had listened, with his hand threatening to shatter the beer mug it cradled, while Luke filled him in on their married life.
Lily never stayed in Glens Crossing. Luke said it. Never in the years since she’d married Peter. Why was she here now?
It was Luke’s final statement on the subject that rang in Clay’s ears to this day. “Funny, I always sorta thought she’d end up with you.”
“Yeah, buddy,” Clay said, as he finally started his motorcycle, “so did I.”
Lily called Riley from her cell phone. Once she established that he was still lying on the couch in front of the TV, she decided to take the long way home. She circled around the north side of the lake on the narrow, winding road that had been replaced long before Lily left Henderson County with a faster, straighter two-lane just a little farther north. She passed through the scarred section of forest that had burned a year ago. There was something haunting about the blackened, limbless tree trunks sticking up from the just-recovering ground growth. Here and there, a tiny new sapling had been planted and staked. Someone had long-reaching faith. At the moment, she couldn’t imagine such tremendous optimism.
The Road Home Page 3