Now the only available pregnancy test in Glens Crossing sat safely guarded by a carrot-topped pharmacist.
Before she got to her car she stopped and let the cool drops of rain hit her upturned face. There was something infinitely calming about rain.
She’d just have to drive to Bedford to buy a test. But that would have to wait until tomorrow. She told herself it didn’t matter; she wasn’t going to be any more or less pregnant tomorrow than she was today.
Clay watched as Riley finished gassing up the only customer they’d had all day. Heavy rain started to fall just after he put the gas nozzle in the tank, but Riley didn’t hurry. He didn’t cut corners. He took care of business.
When he came in, dripping, Clay handed him a towel.
Riley took it. “Thanks.”
The easy way he said it took Clay off guard. Over the last few days, the snide comments and snippy remarks had diminished. What had followed was far from friendship; it was more of an uneasy truce. They had been working inside the garage today, Clay showing Riley how to rebuild an engine. Although they’d worked in silence except for Clay’s instructions and Riley’s occasional question, Clay sensed a change in the atmosphere.
“I don’t think we’re going to be bothered by any more boaters for a while,” Clay said. “Why don’t we go down to the Arctic Express and grab a Coney dog and a shake?” The kid deserved a break. He had actually proven himself useful and made the rebuild job go faster. He had a very good mechanical aptitude and was surprisingly quick on the uptake.
Riley froze, his startled eyes peering over the towel that was pressed against his face. “Now?”
He made it sound like Clay had just sentenced him to a long prison term. “Yeah, now. Unless you aren’t hungry.”
“Uh, no… I mean, yes, I’m hungry.”
“All right, then.” Clay walked out. “Lock the door behind you.”
Riley rode in the pickup alongside Clay with the same air of wary confusion he might have shown had he just been kidnapped. Clay let the atmosphere build. Now that he had made this step, he didn’t know exactly how to proceed from here. He’d decided to be a better man, to stop picking on the boy simply because he was Peter’s son. At first it took lots of tongue-biting and deep breathing, but as they’d worked together this morning, he started to see Riley as a person unto himself. Clay supposed that was, at least in part, because the kid had shown himself to be the complete opposite of Peter in logical thinking and understanding mechanics. Riley was a natural.
They pulled into the nearly empty parking lot at the Arctic Express, directly under the lighted sign shaped like a giant banana split. There wasn’t a dining room, just two walk-up windows for ordering and a few picnic tables out front. Since it was pouring, they’d have to eat in the truck.
“A couple of Conies and a chocolate shake do you okay?” Clay asked as he put his hand on the door to open it.
Riley shifted in his seat and reached for his wallet.
“Don’t get your money out. My treat.”
Riley looked at the windshield wipers as they slapped back and forth. “If you’re buying, I’ll go get it—I’m already wet, anyhow.”
“Deal.” Clay handed him a twenty.
Riley jumped out and ran to the window. There was a slight overhang; he pressed himself up against the serving ledge to keep the rain from running down the back of his neck.
When Riley hurried back with a sack and two large cups in a cardboard carrier, Clay leaned across the seat and popped open the door for him.
“I didn’t know if you wanted onions and relish,” Riley said as he climbed in. “So I got two with and two without.”
“I’ll take mine plain, thanks. At my age, onions tend to disagree.”
He was surprised when Riley barked out a laugh. “You make it sound like you’re a grandpa or something.”
Clay watched the water slide down the passenger window behind the boy. He felt like it had been a hundred years since he had been thirteen. “Some days I feel like one,” he said. “A great-grandpa.”
Riley put a straw through the top of the cup and handed Clay a shake. “Should I cut up your hot dog, or do you think you can gum it okay?”
Immediately the boy cringed slightly. Clay could see that he wanted to recall the words.
“Nah. I put my Poli-Grip in this morning, so I should be all right.”
Riley flashed the first genuine smile Clay had seen from him. Then they both unwrapped the Conies and started eating. With their mouths full, no one expected conversation.
After several minutes with silent chewing and avoiding eye contact, Riley said, “Gramps said you knew my mom when she was a kid.”
There was much more buried in that single statement than the words conveyed. There were a hundred unasked questions, a thousand curious musings. Clay wasn’t sure he was prepared to deal with them. But the kid was making an effort. The least he could do was try to carry on a civil conversation.
“Yeah. Since she was eleven. Actually, I was more friends with your Uncle Luke. He was closer to my age.”
Unfortunately, Riley didn’t take the Uncle Luke topic switch.
“I can’t imagine my mom being a little girl. She’s always so… so… uptight.”
Clay thought of the little girl with the bleeding hole in her leg, the way she refused to cry and scream like most girls her age would. “I guess she was always sort of… grown up for her age.”
Riley chuckled. “That’s a nice way of saying grumpy and boring. Was she one of those dorky girls that never thought about anything but being good and sucking up to the teachers?”
Clay sensed that it was much more difficult for Riley to behave than it had been for his mother—or his dad, for that matter. He could relate to that; he’d spent most of his life bristling against constraints.
“Well, your mom had a lot of responsibility when she was a kid. She had to take care of lots of things at home. And she looked after her little sister. She didn’t have it easy like you do.” Clay couldn’t keep the slight edge out of his voice. For some reason, Riley’s thinking poorly of Lily bothered him.
Riley nodded, and looked out the windshield. “Because her mom ran off and left them.” He seemed deep in his own thoughts.
“Yes. But also because of the kind of person she is. She worries about other people. She wants everything to be good for everybody else.” He’d said it to make a point to Riley, but he couldn’t deny the truth of that statement. Lily, the child, had always been a giver. It was something he’d denied for years. He had convinced himself she’d changed, become selfish and cruel; that was the only way their past made sense.
“She’s a worrier, all right.”
Clay looked sharply at the boy. “Well, some people have given her plenty to worry about.”
Color crept into Riley’s cheeks. He looked down at the Coney in his lap and didn’t say anything. Clay was glad for the remorse showing in the boy’s features, and the fact that he didn’t pipe up with a long list of excuses and justifications.
After putting the last bite of sandwich in his mouth, Clay put the truck in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot.
Riley quietly sipped on his milkshake the whole way back to the marina. When they started working on the engine again, he seemed lost in thought.
Clay had plenty of his own thoughts. Why had he felt compelled to defend Lily?
The answer came quickly. He wasn’t defending her. He was simply telling the truth. Lily had cared—at least when she was a girl. She hadn’t stabbed him in the back until she was a woman.
Still, that thought remained as unsettled as a candy wrapper in a windstorm. It skittered and twirled, refusing to take rational shape. Logic said she’d been a gold-digger from the start of that last summer, looking to hook up with a man with money in order to escape her life here—a life that had been shadowed by a mother’s desertion and growing up on the wrong side of the tracks. Why else would she shift her affections to Pe
ter so quickly after Clay had been disinherited? Maybe she’d been playing them both all summer long—maybe that’s why she insisted they keep their relationship a secret.
But, as much as he wanted to believe that, wanted to cast her in the role of villain and seductress, it just didn’t fit with the person he’d known since she was eleven.
At one point after he’d learned of her marriage, he’d actually gone after her to demand an explanation. An ache swelled in his chest as he recalled that day.
It had been almost eighteen months since he’d seen her. Eighteen months in which his life had been snatched from his control. That time had been stolen, the harm done never to be reversed. But the day had finally come for a reckoning. Clay stood across the street from the Holt Building, waiting with his shoulders hunched against a cool March wind that had kicked up.
Peter and Lily had been easy enough to find. He hadn’t wanted to speak to Peter’s mother; that would have been too awkward, required far too many explanations. But a quick trip to the library had given him all he needed—more than he wanted to know. All of Chicago’s society pages covered the elopement of Peter Holt and a nobody from a small Indiana town. They’d portrayed it as a Cinderella story. It made Clay’s stomach turn sour. Only he knew the bitter truth—both he and Peter had been played and reeled in like prize marlin. A marriage certificate had been the ticket out for Lily Boudreau—now residing in the penthouse of the Holt Building instead of a cramped apartment over the local tavern.
Over the past months, Clay had envisioned a thousand different ways this day could unfold. Even now, he hadn’t decided exactly what he would say to her, or how he was going to go about it. He wanted the pain of the moment to be as acute for her as her betrayal had been for him. Was he going to march right in and pound on the door, confront her in front of Peter? God, he wanted to see the startled look on her face when she opened the door and saw him for the first time. Or would he wait until tomorrow and corner her when Peter was at work?
He was still debating when Lily and Peter emerged from the building. Peter had a protective hand on the small of her back and Lily was pushing a stroller. Christ, they had a baby. Clay felt like he’d been gut-punched. He sagged back against the granite face of the building behind him. A baby. His hands clenched until his nails bit into his palms.
The front of the stroller was draped with a blanket to block the wind—a blue blanket.
Clay stood there, working to even out his breathing as he watched them walk down the street. Even in his worst nightmares he hadn’t felt this raw and angry. That baby brought an image crashing home that he’d tried to block out of his mind since he’d learned of Lily’s marriage—Lily naked in Peter’s arms, writhing under him, digging her nails into his back, his name breathless on her lips….
Pressing his palms against his temples to squeeze away the image, Clay fought the sting of tears.
He wanted to ruin her. He wanted to tell Peter the truth, that she’d implemented a calculated plan to marry money, that she had been leading them both. He wanted Lily’s life destroyed, as his own had been.
He stood there until they were gone from sight.
Not today, he decided. Not while this new wound was still bleeding. A baby. Jesus Christ.
The next day dawned and he still couldn’t bring himself to confront Lily. No matter how he cut it, punishing Lily would mean dealing Peter a boatload of pain, too. Clay supposed he should consider himself lucky. He found out about Lily before it was too late. Peter would have to live with her the rest of his life.
The thought that Peter had been deceived gave Clay a reluctant bit of satisfaction. Clay never quite believed Peter made much of an effort to help when Clay’s father had abandoned him. Although his situation certainly hadn’t been Peter’s responsibility, Clay knew he never would have left a friend alone in such a desperate situation.
And now, Clay decided, Peter was on his own. Maybe that Cinderella story would all come crashing down. Then again, maybe Peter would never have to see that the woman he’d married was motivated by self-centered greed. Whatever the outcome, it wasn’t going to happen at Clay’s hand.
Clay left the city, hating himself for not having the strength to drag the truth out into the light.
From that moment, Clay had locked Lily out of his mind. Until a few weeks ago, he’d refused even to think of her—at least when he was awake and in control. His subconscious had had a different attitude altogether.
The very next day, he’d joined the army and his life had taken a turn that led him away from the familiar. He’d lived the past years mostly on foreign soil, far from the memories that haunted his dreams.
Riley said his name. Clay looked up and realized he had slipped completely away from what he was supposed to be doing. He gripped a wrench in his hand so tightly his entire arm was trembling.
The kid looked worried.
“You okay?” Riley asked. “You look like you had a stroke or something.”
“Fine. You get that carburetor clean?” Clay seeped slowly back into this world, this time, and noticed the steady drum of rain on the metal roof.
“Yeah, about ten minutes ago. We already put it on. Don’t you remember?” Now he looked really worried.
Clay forced a laugh. “I guess when you’ve done this as many times as I have you click over to autopilot.”
Riley stood and looked at him for a moment. Then he said, “Can I wash up now? My mom’ll be here to get me in a minute.”
“Go on. I think I’ve had it for today, too.” He wiped the wrench on a red shop rag.
Riley disappeared into the bathroom.
When Clay turned around, Lily was standing just inside the door. He fumbled the wrench and it clattered onto the concrete floor.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Lily said.
“Damn thing is slick with grease.” Clay picked up the wrench and finished wiping it off. “Riley’s almost ready to go.”
“I came in to talk to you.”
“Really?” He raised a brow.
“Don’t pull that crap on me. We need to talk. I think we’re both far too old for this type of game.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and walked closer to him. Close enough that he could smell her perfume. But it didn’t appear that she was wearing it for his benefit. She looked peeved.
“If you wanted to apologize, you should have just called.”
“I don’t have a clue what you’re getting at.”
“I’m getting at you sneaking into my house last night. Really, Clay, I thought you were more mature than that.”
“I haven’t been inside that house in yea—”
“Well, someone was. And you and the caretaker are the only two people I can think of familiar enough with that house to sneak in the way you did.”
“I didn’t do any sneaking. If someone broke into your house, you’d better report it to the sheriff.” His blood rushed hot. Someone inside Lily’s house? The dangerous possibilities set off a cascade of worry.
“I think you know there was no ‘break-in.’ ”
“Now you’re talking in circles. Tell me what happened.”
The door to the bathroom opened. “Mom? What are you doing in here?”
“I just had a couple of things to discuss with Bud. You go on out to the car. I’ll be right there.”
“I’m supposed to meet some kids at the arcade at six.”
Lily’s sharp gaze shifted from Clay to Riley. “And when did you ask permission to do that?”
“Sorry. I forgot. They just invited me last night at Gramps’s place. Can I go? Please.”
Clay said, “The kid did put in a good day’s work.”
Lily’s intense scrutiny swung back to Clay. She made him feel like he was thirteen, too.
“I just thought it might help you decide,” he said quietly.
“Come on, Mom. I don’t have to work tomorrow.”
>
“Let’s talk about it in the car,” she said as she put a hand on Riley’s shoulder and moved him toward the door. “And you…” She turned to Clay once Riley was out the door. “I’ve got more to say to you. Can you come by my house at seven?”
Clay nodded. She damn well better have more to say to him. He needed to know what happened last night. And he wanted to check out the security of that house himself.
“Just use the front door this time,” Lily said, then she disappeared into the gray rainy afternoon.
Chapter 13
Lily stopped by the Crossing House on her way home. Riley groaned quietly but knew better than to make too much noise. Lily had agreed to let him meet his friends tonight for pizza and to play in the arcade. He wasn’t to go anyplace else. When she’d told him she was going to pick him up at nine-thirty, he’d rolled his eyes and huffed an exaggerated sigh, but didn’t argue.
“I just want to make sure Gramps doesn’t need any extra help tonight,” she said as she opened the car door. “The parking lot is already pretty full.”
“Please hurry, Mom.”
She pulled her jacket hood over her head and got out. The rain had fallen steadily all day and the lot was filled with puddles. She splashed her way to the door.
Once inside, she smiled with satisfaction. The place was nearly as busy as it had been the previous night. Some of the jitters seemed to have settled out of the serving staff. Faye had a smile on her face; that was a good sign. Lily went into the bar to see her dad.
“There’s my girl!” he called over the heads of the young men perched on bar stools.
“Hi, Dad. Looks like things are going well.”
He smiled broadly. “Couldn’t be better.” He stepped closer when Lily slipped onto an empty stool. “Faye still isn’t convinced, but she’ll see. Can I get you anything?”
“Actually, I stopped to see if you needed any more hands tonight.”
Faye’s voice came from behind Lily. “That’s real sweet of you, but I think we’ve got things under control just fine. Don’t we, Benny?”
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