When the officer pulled him away from the man, he was so focused on the struggle that he actually tried to break free, to go after the guy again.
A nightstick to his forearm sent the knife clattering to the sidewalk. Until he heard it hit, he’d forgotten it was still clenched in his hand. The pain from the blow radiated up into his shoulder and into his neck.
He grabbed his bruised arm and yelled through gritted teeth, “Okay! Okay!”
“You have the right to remain silent…” The officer’s voice sounded gravelly in his ear as he clamped on the handcuffs behind his back.
“Wait! It was his knife—he was beating up on that woman!”
“You mean that woman right there?” The officer spun him around to see the woman kneeling next to the man, who didn’t look like the scratch on his forearm was going to be anywhere near fatal. She cried and ran her hands over his body, checking for more injuries. Another police officer stood next to them.
She turned to Clay and yelled, “He tried to kill Bubby!”
Clay shouted, “Hey, I tried to help you!”
“You cut Bubby!” She collapsed on the broad shoulder and cried like the guy was drawing his last breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry, baby. It’s gonna be all right.”
Clay turned to the cop. “It wasn’t my knife. He attacked me.”
The officer pulled him toward the cruiser. “Tell it to the judge.”
Clay was shoved in the back of the police car. The door slammed closed. He noticed there were no handles on the inside. When the cop climbed in the front, on the other side of a thick wire mesh, Clay said, “What about the other guy?”
“Robinson’ll take care of him.”
“Take care of him, as in tend his wound, or arrest the bastard?”
The policeman ignored him. He called a code on his radio, then put the car in gear.
Once through booking at the police station, Clay was put in a holding cell with about twenty other guys from various levels of the lower social strata. He felt totally out of place, and hoped to God it wasn’t written all over his face.
Within minutes he drew interest. One guy approached him, trying to push a little relief from his “situation” in the form of pills. Clay didn’t want to think how the guy must have smuggled them into the cell. Another, dressed in a cocktail dress and spike heels, asked him for a date. He ignored them both.
He spent a sleepless night, guarding himself from various forms of violation.
At one point, he saw “Bubby” escorted in and, fortunately, locked in a different cell.
In the morning, he called his dad and explained what had happened and asked for him to arrange a lawyer.
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Clay had begun to wonder if his dad was still there when he said, “That’s most unfortunate.”
Then the line went dead.
Clay hadn’t expected much more. But he had thought that by the time his bail hearing rolled around, his dad would have softened enough to at least send one of his underlings to bail him out.
Standing alone before the bail magistrate, Clay listened to the charges against him. Jesus, they made it sound like he was a real criminal. Since there was a knife involved, they were going to charge him with a felony. Bail was set. When Clay called the bank to get the funds—he’d worked all summer and had just enough to get himself out—he discovered the account, which had been in joint names with his father since Clay was a child, had been closed.
Well, he’d thrown his family’s name and power away. Now it was time to pay the price. He decided, no matter what, he’d face it. There was no way he would call his father again.
Lily interrupted his tale. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have gotten the money together somehow.”
Clay’s chuckle held no humor. “Because I knew that’s what you’d do. There was no reason to drag you into it. Besides, bail was high—really high. At the time I wondered if my dad had put a bug in the bail magistrate’s ear.” He waved the thought away and sighed. “I really did think I was going to get out. At first I couldn’t even believe they were buying the other guy’s story. But the initial hearing took care of that delusion. Then I thought my dad would come around—”
“What about Peter?” Lily asked.
“No money—at least not that kind. I wouldn’t let him ask his parents.”
“But once you’d figured out you weren’t getting bail, you should have called me.”
“Lily, I wasn’t staying at the Holiday Inn. Telephone calls were difficult to come by. Besides, I didn’t want you to know I was in jail. It was all just a stupid mistake.”
“Damn right!” She got to her feet. “Not calling was a stupid mistake. A stupid, male-pride-fueled mistake.”
He looked up at her. “That’s not the part that was the stupid mistake. I’d do that part exactly the same again. It’s the arrest that was a mistake.”
Lily spun in a frustrated circle. “Jesus, Clay, you’d do it again, knowing that it would be the end of us?”
He grabbed her hand. “Sit back down.” When she didn’t move he added, “Please.”
She stood rigid for a moment, she’d waited fourteen years to hear this; now she wasn’t sure she wanted more. The sheer absurdity of the entire fall of events was impossible to believe. But she sat down.
He said, “I told Peter to tell you that I had a fight with my dad and it was going to take a few weeks to get things ironed out.”
“That’s it? That’s what you told Peter to tell me?”
“Yeah.” He looked at her, apparently surprised by her reaction. “In light of our last conversation, that should have told you to wait. I didn’t want to tell Peter more about us, not yet.” He paused and laced his hands together between his knees. “So did he?”
Lily blinked, her mind whirling with the reality of what had happened. “Did he what?”
“Tell you.”
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “He told me you’d had a fight with your dad—” she heard Clay’s sigh of frustration and finished, “and that you were gone. He didn’t know where, but he didn’t think you were coming back.”
This time Clay was the one on his feet. “Lily, if you’re lying to me—”
She looked at him from where she sat on the couch, his form blurring with the tears that she tried to keep from falling. His accusation should make her fighting mad, but all she felt was tired. Tired and disconnected from her life. “That’s what he said. When I called your dad, he said the same. You’d left. No one knew where you were.” A little hiccup caught in her throat. She could muster no more than a whisper. “And you didn’t come back.”
The whispered words hung in the air between them. Her accusation of desertion stabbed like a knife in his heart. He had come back. But Lily hadn’t waited months, or the years she’d sworn herself to. He came back—and found her married to his best friend.
Lily sat stock-still on the couch as Clay paced around the room. The coffee was cold, but Lily clung to the cup as if it were a lifeline. Clay felt he could use a lifeline, too, but had no idea where to grab. He needed to attack something, but didn’t know which way to aim his anger. Peter had let him down. Had it been intentional? Peter hadn’t known about Clay’s relationship with Lily. But why would he tell her Clay wasn’t coming back?
When Clay made his next revolution around the room, his gaze fell once more on Lily. His anger found its target. He moved directly in front of her. She didn’t look up at him. She just stared at that damn cold coffee.
“Tell me, were you working us both from the start?” he said with a bitter edge. “Or did you turn to Peter because I was out of money?”
The lethargy that had seemed to have a hold of Lily evaporated. She shot to her feet and slapped him across the face.
It stung, but he welcomed the pain. Physical pain was now. Physical pain was real and easy to understand.
She stood there in front of him, her anger like an electrical
charge in the air. He felt it lifting the hair on his arms.
“You don’t know anything about how things were for me.” She took two deep breaths. “And you don’t care.”
She started to step around him, but he grabbed her arm. “Then tell me! Tell me why you married Peter. Tell me why you didn’t wait.”
The look in Clay’s eyes stopped Lily cold. She wanted to justify her actions. She wanted him to know she’d done the most logical thing at the time. He’d left her without a word, for God’s sake.
But if she bared her soul, it would be her undoing. It would destroy her.
She looked him in the eye and said, “Because you left me. You could have called. You could have written. You didn’t care enough to keep what we had. You threw it away.”
“Dammit, Lily, I just explained—”
She steeled her heart against the pity she had for both of their situations. “I know now. If I had known then…” She raised a shoulder. “But I didn’t. All I knew was that you left me. I was hurt. Peter was there to pick up the pieces. Peter gave me the strength to go on.”
He let go of her arm and looked to the ceiling. “God, Lily.” It was a strangled sound that broke Lily’s heart.
“Peter loved me. And I loved him—just not the way I love you.” It was as much of herself as she could share, here, now. She waited, waited for him to make a sound, make a move.
Finally, he leaned his forehead against hers. They stood in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rain and the beating of their own hearts. Then his arms slipped around her and he pulled her close.
His shirt was still damp and sent a chill through her as she pressed against his chest and put her arms around his waist.
Clay said, “You said, you love me—not loved.”
She nodded, but couldn’t say more.
After taking a deep breath, he said, “A wise man once said, ‘Youth is wasted on the young.’ ” He sighed; Lily felt the heat of his exhaled breath in her hair. “I don’t know if ours was wasted, but we certainly made a mess of it, didn’t we?”
She leaned back and looked into his face. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not over the hill just yet.”
He smiled, then he kissed her. It was a kiss that spoke of bittersweet memories, of things lost, and maybe, she thought, just a hint of possibility.
When he lifted his face from hers, she said, “You’ve got to be freezing in those clothes. Maybe you should take them off and I’ll put them in the dryer.”
“Why, are you trying to get me naked?” He smiled that boyish smile that flipped her heart in her chest.
“I’m just thinking of your health.”
He kissed her forehead. Then he said, “Lily, it’s taken fourteen years to get to the top of this mountain.” He paused. “I don’t want to screw it up again.”
Against her will, her heart sped up. He spoke of the future, of them being together. After all of these years, the thought scared her to death. What if they did screw it up? What if, once they spent more time together, they discovered the only thing they had in common was mutual lust?
And getting involved with Clay would affect other people. Riley’s life was already tumultuous enough. Did she want to force two people who so obviously disliked each other to spend more time together?
She sighed. “I’m not sure what I want. Everything is so complicated.”
He cupped her face and smiled down at her. “It always has been, Lily. For you and me, nothing is simple.”
Stepping back, he let her go. Then he turned around and walked out into the rainy night.
Lily watched with a lump in her throat as the door closed behind him. She put a hand over her abdomen. Complicated. Maybe more complicated than he knew.
Lily turned out the lights and sat back down on the couch. She wanted to wrap herself in the darkness, have nothing to distract her from her thoughts. She was sure she’d done the right thing guarding herself against Clay. She couldn’t tell him everything. But with tonight’s revelations, they were discovering new footing with each other. What she had spent years viewing as betrayal turned out to be no more than cruel fate and mischance. It was going to take a while to wrap her mind around that.
She didn’t see how they could realistically find their way back to each other. She was a mother first—and Clay didn’t want children—especially Riley. The two of them were like male lions fighting for territory.
And if she was pregnant…
Then there was Peter. Emotionally fragile Peter, who was waging a battle with himself—alone. A relationship with Clay for her would mean devastation for him.
She tried to keep in mind that what was done was done and nothing would change it. Still, the question nagged: Had Peter deliberately deceived her? If he didn’t know she and Clay were involved, he might not have seen the importance of Clay’s message. Or perhaps he was protecting her from the pain of knowing their dear friend was in jail.
In this quiet moment, sitting with tears on her cheeks in the dark living room of the lake cottage, Lily resolved that no matter what Peter’s motivation, she wasn’t going to delve more deeply into his reasons—at least not right now, with both Riley and Peter in such rocky emotional circumstances. The facts were what they were. Nothing would change the past.
Having decided that, she worked to let go of the anger simmering against Peter. She listened to the sounds of the rain, the branches scraping against the house, and the ticking of the clock. By a sheer force of will, she released her resentment, one resistant fiber at a time.
A sad calm settled over her. The past was done. And her future was hers to do with as she would. She just had to make sure the choices she made didn’t sacrifice other people’s happiness for her own.
The clock struck the hour. Nine. She needed to get herself together and go pick up Riley.
Just as she was about to switch on the lamp, there was a loud thump on the side of the house. The side with the coal chute. She froze and listened for a few seconds. There wasn’t anything more.
“A raccoon,” she said. It didn’t make sense, but it made her feel better. She was glad she’d had Mr. Duncan, the caretaker, secure that door. He’d been there sometime while she was out this morning and left a note on the kitchen table. Then she herself had checked to be sure it couldn’t be opened from the outside. So, raccoon or not, nothing was coming in that way.
Turning on the light, she felt better. She put on her shoes, grabbed her purse and keys. Then she opened the front door—and screamed.
Her body shot through with white-hot panic. Before she could get her breath, the figure outside the screen door called her name.
“Lily! It’s all right. It’s me.”
All of her muscles gave way at the same time. She grabbed the edge of the door to keep from collapsing into a puddle on the floor. “Clay! What are you doing?”
“I came back because I wanted to see if that coal chute was secure.”
She finally remembered to breathe. “You could have just called.” Pushing open the screen, she stepped out on the porch with him.
“I wanted to make sure myself. I don’t like the fact that someone got in here in the first place. Now that you know it wasn’t me, I want you to call and file a report with the sheriff.”
“It’s fine now. The coal chute door is latched. No one can get in.”
“But why did someone come in in the first place? Nothing was stolen?”
She shook her head. “Maybe I overreacted. Maybe that footprint had been there all along.” She wasn’t going to tell Clay about the rose. Maybe she would make a report to the sheriff tomorrow, but Clay didn’t need to know. She wasn’t sure how Riley would react if he got wind of all of Clay’s sudden concern.
“I don’t like it.” He touched her face. “Keep your doors locked. Be aware when you come and go. No one can see this place from the road. You’re pretty isolated.”
Lily tried to ignore the feelings his caring touch set off and stayed wi
th the safe and the mundane. “I survived the streets of Chicago. I think I can manage Glens Crossing.”
“Don’t let the quiet atmosphere fool you. Crazies can pop up anywhere.”
She pulled the door closed and locked the deadbolt. “See, I have good safety habits, Officer Winters.”
“Maybe I should wait here while you pick up Riley.”
Lily couldn’t imagine how she’d explain Clay sitting in their living room when they got back.
“I mean in the truck, not inside.” It was as if he could read her mind, a talent that didn’t seem to be dulled by the passage of time.
“I’ll be fine. I’ve been coming and going out here for weeks.”
“Yeah, well, last night was the first time someone slipped into your house. Something’s changed.”
“What do you mean?” She stopped halfway across the porch.
“I don’t imagine it’s someone who had theft in mind—they didn’t take anything. And this house has been sitting empty for a good long time. Why wait until it’s occupied to sneak in?”
“Well, maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s kids that were sneaking in and using this place while it was empty. Maybe they just discovered it’s not anymore.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t sound like he thought the idea held water. “A few weeks ago, I was driving by late at night—” At her indrawn breath, he held up a hand to silence her. “A car pulled out of your drive, without its lights on.”
Lily decided to take heed of his desire not to discuss what he’d been doing driving by that night. “Maybe it was kids on a date, parked. They still do that here, you know.”
His eyes showed a flash of memory—pleasant, heated memory this time. “Just the same, keep your eyes and ears open.”
She gave him a salute. “Yes, sir. May I go now, sir?”
He didn’t appear amused.
“I promise, I’ll be careful.”
He walked her to her car and opened the door for her. Once she was inside, he stood there for a moment in the rain and just looked at her. Then he tapped a finger on the window and walked to his truck.
The warmth of security filled her chest. After feeling adrift for the past months, Lily had found an anchor. She just hoped it didn’t pull her under.
The Road Home Page 22