“I have a right to see that boy; I’m his grandfather.”
“I don’t dispute that you have a right to see Riley. You’re welcome anytime. But if you come down here, you aren’t to interfere with this situation—in any way. Am I clear?”
Lily didn’t miss the fact that Bill didn’t once question whether Peter knew of Riley’s current problem. That was the way to get things done, cut out the middleman. No wonder Peter was such a mess. He couldn’t deal because he’d never been given the opportunity to develop such adult skills. William Holt was in charge. William Holt always knew what was best.
“You don’t know—”
“Don’t push me, Bill.” She was actually proud of the steel in her voice.
There was a long pause on the line. Lily could just see him twisting the rubber band he liked to stretch and roll between his fingers when he was thinking. She could sit there and let the silence spin just as easily as he. She knew from experience he expected her to be the first to speak.
Finally, he said, “Have Riley call me tonight.”
A minor victory. At least he wasn’t climbing into his Mercedes and heading south.
“I’ll be happy to.”
She had the distinct feeling she’d won the battle, but not the war. For now, she’d take what she could get. As she hung up the phone, she wondered, would she ever be beyond the reach of the Chicago Holts?
Lily was just getting out of the shower when she heard the back screen door slam. It occurred to her how quickly she’d lapsed from her city ways and begun to leave doors unlocked, screens unsecured—at least during daylight hours. How stupid. She couldn’t see the drive from the bathroom window.
Opening the door to the upstairs hall just a crack, she called, “Dad? Riley?”
“It’s me, Mom.”
Her knees weakened with relief. No more showering with unlocked doors. She wrapped herself in her cotton knit robe and went downstairs. She found Riley at the kitchen table.
“How’d you get home?”
“I walked.”
Something seemed off. More than his early arrival. She was getting used to him not looking her in the eye most of the time. It was more than that—the set of his shoulders, a tension that hummed in his muscles. It was as if he was waiting for her to yell at him. Her mother’s antennae quivered, then snapped to attention. “Walked? Isn’t it too early for you to be off work?”
His gaze rose from the can of Coke he’d taken from the refrigerator. He looked… startled.
“What?” she asked, her heart in her throat. What new drama had transpired today?
“Bud said I could leave. Tomorrow’s Saturday, he says it’s really busy and I should be there early.”
“Bud let you go early… after getting there late?” She narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t get used to calling Clay, Bud. It slid most unnaturally from her tongue. But on the off chance that Riley said something about the marina to Peter, Bud he would remain.
“Yeah.” He shrugged and took a drink from the can. “I guess he felt bad about Gramps and all.”
Oh, yeah. And monkeys are going to fly out of my ass any second. “And you walked home.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“It’s really not that far.” He concentrated on the Coke again.
“Riley.”
He jumped to his feet and looked at her with defiance in his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Mom! I got off early. I walked home. Why do you have to make a big deal out of nothing?”
She stared him in the eye for a long moment. He didn’t flinch. She’d been down this road before. If something was going on, no amount of pressure was going to force it out of him. Once things reached this point, every word became counterproductive. Making herself take two deep breaths before she spoke, she addressed the only thing that she felt would have any results. “Do not swear at me. I’m not stupid, I know how you and your friends talk to one another. But in front of adults and in mixed company, you’ll use some restraint. Am I clear?”
She wanted to say so much more, to unleash the anger that was quickly building up inside. He was lying. She knew it. And she’d bet he knew she knew it.
His jaw relaxed slightly. “Sorry. Can I go take a shower now?”
“Not yet.”
His gaze snapped to her again, as if he’d been expecting her to unload on him. But he kept silent.
“I got a call from Grandpa Holt this afternoon.”
“Really?”
“Nice try, Riley. I know you called him.” She raised a hand to keep him from responding yet. “I don’t mind if you talk to your grandparents. But, Riley, hear me now: You are not, under any circumstances to burden”—she chose the word carefully—“them with our problems. Your father has enough to deal with right now. And unless I decide things warrant it, he doesn’t need to worry about us right now.”
Guilt flashed in his eyes.
She almost felt guilty herself. Bill hadn’t even thought of involving Peter.
“Can I go?”
“Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
He licked his lips and looked longingly toward the door. “No.”
“Nothing is going on?”
“No.”
“Go take your shower.”
As he walked out of the kitchen, she heard him mumble something about trusting him.
Her mother’s intuition nearly laughed out loud. No way, buddy. Trust flew out the window with that mouthful of lies you just unloaded on me.
Clay sat with his elbows on the marina office desk and his head cradled in his hands. The room was dark, dark like his soul. It was late, but he couldn’t make himself go home. At least here he could pretend he was a part of this town, not the disassociated outcast he really was. The scene he’d had with Riley this morning played in a never-ending loop in his head.
He’d acted on instinct. There had been no thought behind his violent action. It was now clear he hadn’t adjusted to living where threats didn’t lie hidden in every shadow, in every whispering sound.
But was it simply his military years that were to blame? Or did it have to do with the emotional trigger Riley set off inside him? When Clay had come to Glens Crossing, he’d done so with a mental promise to let the pain and betrayal of that final summer go. He’d scared himself this afternoon. He knew he’d been looking for shortcomings in the boy, just so he could pinpoint and punish—wound the parent by wounding the child. And he knew it was wrong.
He hated the fear he’d put in the boy’s eyes.
He knew he should have followed the kid right away, apologized. But his shame kept him from doing it. An apology would require something in the way of an explanation. How could he explain a life he no longer understood himself?
Had Riley gone home and told his mother Clay had attacked him like a madman? Clay shook his head. If he had, it would have been nothing short of the truth.
Now his conscience was eating him alive. The boy was his responsibility—just like the kid in the church had been.
He pushed away the image that haunted his nights, and got up out of the chair. Self-pity always sickened him, especially when it was his own.
Snatching a set of boat keys from his desk, he got up and headed for the door. It was time to be a better man. He had to look at Riley and see Riley, not an extension of Peter. He had to stop begrudging the kid every time he surprised him with a show of strength or character.
If Riley hadn’t gotten home, Lily would have called. But Clay couldn’t rest until he knew for certain. He didn’t want to see Lily—for more reasons than he could count. Of course, there was the fact that he’d laid out her son, a half-grown boy, this morning. But there was more. Something that was much more dangerous than taking down a charging teen. Her return had brought back dark feelings he thought he’d buried with his father. Yet there was something inside him that electrified when she was around, no matter how he tried to deny it. Whether it stemmed from anger or misguided passion left over from their youth
, he couldn’t say. He wasn’t sure he wanted to examine it closely enough to find out.
But he was supposed to be in charge of Riley’s work hours and he’d fallen short of that responsibility. He had to know the boy was home and safe.
Right after Lily and Riley finished the dinner dishes, Riley went out and sat on the dock. Neither of them had said much while they ate. The lies that Riley had told sat with them like an unwelcome dinner guest. Lily assured herself that if something terrible had happened at the marina, Clay would have called to report it—if not to her, at least to Steve Clyde. Riley was there under his order, after all.
She was on her way to the basement with a load of laundry when she looked out the kitchen window and didn’t see his dark silhouette on the dock. For a split second her stomach dropped to her toes. Just as she started toward the door to check on him, she saw movement by the boathouse. Riley walked back out on the dock and sat at the end again.
Maybe those lies were making him restless.
Lily was still in the basement doing laundry when she heard him come back in. He called down the stairs and said he was going to bed. Then she heard the thump of his footsteps and the squeak of the risers as he went upstairs.
She was tired, too. The hours she’d spent helping clean up the Crossing House put kinks in her shoulders and knives in her back—but did little to make the place look any closer to reopening. She took a couple of Advil and poured herself a glass of wine, then went out to sit by the lake. She stopped at the boathouse to get one of the ancient Adirondack chairs. When she reached for the latch, she realized the door was ajar. Funny, she was certain she latched it when she was finished in here yesterday. If she hadn’t, it would have blown wide open in the storm.
Wishing she’d brought a flashlight, she slowly opened the door. She breathed a little easier when nothing shot out of the darkness at her. Once the door was fully open, she reached to the side and flipped on the light. It was one of the yellow kind that isn’t supposed to draw bugs. Lily thought that was probably because the darn thing didn’t put out enough light for a bug to see from across the yard. She strained to see details in the dimness.
Everything was as she’d left it yesterday—a semi-organized mess.
Maybe Riley had been in here. She made a mental note to ask him—or at least be more aware of his movements. Could he have something stashed out here?
God, she was tired. Tired of the constant vigilance, the continual fight. If only Peter could be more of a partner in raising their troubled son. But Peter needed maturing himself.
Silently, she thanked God they hadn’t had more children. Maybe there was a grand plan for life, after all. What had seemed cruel beyond words had turned out to be for the best in the long run. She just didn’t have the energy to spread herself any thinner.
The chairs were near the door. She grabbed the one that looked the sturdiest and pulled it out onto the lawn.
It was cool enough that no boaters had ventured out onto the lake tonight. Later in the summer, Friday nights would be filled with the steady putter of idling motors and laughter echoing across the calm water. Lily pulled down the long sleeves of her knit shirt and wished she’d put on a jacket. But she knew it was only a matter of time before the wine took away the chill. She took a long sip as she settled into the chair.
The crickets and frogs were making such a ruckus that she saw running lights before she heard the putter of the boat’s motor. Someone had braved the chill after all.
She watched the lights move slowly in her direction. Instead of motoring on down the lake, the boat swung around and headed directly toward her dock.
Lily set her wine glass on the ground and stood.
The boat’s engine cut off and it drifted the rest of the way in.
Walking to the shore end of the dock, she stopped and crossed her arms over her chest. She heard the quiet lap of the water against the boat hull.
“Hello?” She hadn’t noticed how totally dark it was out here until now.
A figure jumped out of the boat, onto the dock. “It’s not as easy to find this place at night without the light on the flagpole.”
“Clay? What are you doing here?” After this morning, he was the last person she expected to see.
He knelt, tying the boat to the anchor rings on the dock. “I just finished working on this inboard and needed to run it.”
Riley. This has to be about Riley. Maybe now she’d find out what was going on. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
He walked toward her. She was shocked to realize the way he moved felt so familiar, even after all these years, even in the dark. He stopped a few feet away from her. She could now make out his features. He looked so much younger in this light, the toll of the years softened by the darkness. A little quiver unsettled her stomach. He stood before her, youth restored, the boy she loved beyond reason.
Did love, Lily. Keep it straight. Those days are long gone.
“I just wanted to make sure Riley made it home safely,” he said.
He looked a little edgy, as if ready to sprint back to the boat as soon as she answered. “And why the sudden concern?”
“Not so sudden. I’m responsible for him during work hours. He left on foot; I just want to confirm that he’s where he’s supposed to be.”
She had the same feeling about Clay as she did about Riley. Neither one of them was being totally honest. Odd. Clay had made it clear he was just waiting for Riley to screw up. “He’s here.”
“Good.” He paused for a bit, then turned and looked over the water. “Kids are a damn nuisance. Ruin your life.”
“Spoken like a man who shouldn’t have children.” Peter might have had trouble relating to Riley, but he’d never been deliberately cruel. He’d made the effort every day. He and Riley were just polar opposites, neither able to bridge the gap into understanding. “With that attitude of yours, I’d feel sorry for the kid who had you for a parent.” She immediately wished she could recall the words.
Instead of the terse response she expected, Clay chuckled. “Touché.”
His laughter caught her off guard. It was a sound she’d tried to erase from her memory. It reached right into the pit of her stomach and flipped her insides upside down.
He fell quiet again, looking up toward the house.
Her breath caught. The light from the distant kitchen window reflected in his eyes, taking Lily back fourteen years, back to a place she had no business going. Oh, but how she wanted to. It had been so long since she’d felt this rush of need. She could feel the increase in her heart rate, her pulse echoed in her ears. God, how could he do this to her without even trying?
He started to take a step toward the dock, but hesitated. “Sorry about the Crossing House,” he said. “How’s Benny?”
“What?” All that had registered beyond his moving away was the rise and fall of his voice.
“Benny,” he repeated. “How is he?”
She was thankful for the darkness; it hid the desire she felt flushed on her cheeks. “He’s good. Fully recovered.”
Taking a deep breath, she tried to get her mind off of something that would never be. She forced herself to make conversation. “I think he might take the opportunity to do some upgrading when he does the repairs.”
“Really? Like what?” He stopped moving toward the lake and stood still, sounding like he really wanted to know.
“Make it more of a family place, separate the dining room from the bar. That kind of thing.”
Clay tilted his head, just as she remembered him doing when puzzled. “I didn’t know he wanted to change things.”
Lily let the comment lie. It was time to say what she should have said this morning. “I should thank you.”
“For what?” There was that tilt of the head again.
There was something changed about him—something… inviting. She had to remind herself of the cold way he’d said he’d never forget the past.
She said, “Stan
Jeffers said you went in and carried Dad out—he was unconscious.”
“It wasn’t a big deal. The stairs were still intact, just walked in and brought him out.”
“Well, it’s a big deal to us. We’re grateful.”
For a moment, Lily listened to the night noises, waiting.
“Guess I’d better be going,” he finally said. His voice held a hint that he didn’t really want to.
“All right.” God, she wanted to ask him to stay—just to talk, to see what had happened to him, to understand why he’d changed. But these were dangerous waters.
He didn’t move to leave. In fact, he took a small step closer.
Lily’s heart beat loud in her ears. She mimicked his half step. Now she was close enough to hear his breathing. She wondered if he could hear her heart.
His hand came up to touch her cheek. The guarded expression that she’d seen in his eyes since her return had completely disappeared. For the moment, his eyes held the caring, the longing, the spark of hunger that haunted the deepest hours of her nights.
She allowed herself to be drawn into the candid desire in those eyes. Her gaze welded to his.
“What happened to us, Lily?” he asked softly.
This was the Clay she remembered. Her body trembled. She hoped it didn’t register in her voice when she said, “I guess we grew up.” It was the safest answer she could muster at the moment.
Keeping his hand on her face, he leaned closer and whispered, “I want to be a kid again.”
“Oh, God. Me, too.” There was no disguising her trembling now.
He inched closer.
She parted her lips. It had been so long since she’d been touched by a man. She hungered for it, the closeness, the connection.
The Road Home Page 13