Peter seemed to gather himself a bit. He stood and faced Clay. “And what would you have had her do? Sit around Glens Crossing, pregnant and unmarried, waiting for you to get out of jail?” He paused. Then, in a voice Clay had heard Peter’s father use time and again, he said, “It was the best thing.”
That I-know-better-than-you tone ignited Clay’s anger again. He raised his fist, but stopped short of throwing the punch. “Best for who?” His words ground out between clenched teeth.
“Don’t get all holier-than-thou on me! Your dad had cut you off. You didn’t have a job—you were in jail, for chris-sake! Lily needed someone to take care of her right then—not when you finally straightened out your life.
“So I did it. I took care of Lily. I took care of Riley.” He straightened his shoulders and took a step back. “We are a family, and nothing will undo that.”
Those words resonated in Clay’s head. He’d thought the same thing the first moment he’d seen Peter and Lily with the baby stroller on that windy Chicago street. He’d thought it again weeks ago. No matter what separated Lily from Peter—divorce papers or a thousand miles—the two of them would always be bound together by that child. His child.
Clay blew out a long breath. “Who else knows?”
“That Riley isn’t my biological child?” Peter shifted farther away from him. “No one.”
“Bill and Samantha?”
“I said no one. Not my parents. Not Benny. Not Luke.” He cut through the air with his index finger. “No one.”
Clay didn’t know if that made it better or worse. It certainly made it more complicated. Who would ever have questioned? He and Lily had been meeting in secret. Peter had been around the entire summer, too.
Peter was talking again. It took a moment for Clay to pull himself back to the conversation. “What?”
“Are you going to tell him?” Peter asked with his arms folded across his chest.
Clay didn’t respond.
“It will hurt a lot of people. Especially Riley. You don’t even know him—I’ve been his father since before he was born.”
That tipped the scales—and totally pissed Clay off. “What’s the matter, Peter? Afraid I’ll steal them back?” He turned and walked out of the room.
Riley had gone for a walk. Lily was in the boathouse getting ready to work her new pottery design. She felt somewhat satisfied, thinking she now understood, at least in part, her son’s mood of late. It was clear he cared about what happened to Mickey. But she didn’t know exactly what she’d do if, at some point in the future, he came to her and said Tad was abusing the girl. That was very, very dangerous ground to walk. A child’s interpretation of abuse could be totally skewed—any form of punishment might qualify. But Mickey didn’t seem like the kind of child to exaggerate, or embellish a tale just for the attention.
Lily supposed she’d have to start with Karen. Maybe Karen suspected the very same thing and just hadn’t been able to get Mickey to confide in her about it. As Lily thought of the way Karen treated her daughter, she couldn’t blame Mickey for not sharing anything with her mother.
Maybe it was just teenage talk. Perhaps there wasn’t anything of substance behind the words other than an adolescent cry for attention. But if there was a problem, Lily hoped nothing would happen while she and Riley were staying in Glens Crossing that would drag them into the middle of it.
As soon as that thought crossed her mind, Lily was ashamed. If Mickey needed help and had found a friend in Riley, then she should be hoping for exactly the opposite—something to happen while there was someone here she could turn to.
Lily tussled with her conscience as she plugged in the potter’s wheel and slapped a blob of wet clay on it. She was just about to turn on the switch when she heard a voice.
“There you are! Been hollerin’ and knockin’ on the door for ten minutes.”
Lily looked up to see Faye standing in the open double door, her red hair like a flaming halo with the backwash of the sun. She was dressed in lime green, with a shoulder bag and sandals of the same color. One hand tightly grasped the strap of the purse slung over her shoulder.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear.” Lily reached for a towel to wipe her hands. “Is everything all right?” She couldn’t imagine what had brought Faye to her door.
“Well, no. It isn’t.” She tilted her head to the side and added in a conspiratorial tone, “You and I need to have a little heart-to-heart—without your daddy’s big ears around.”
Lily didn’t think she wanted to hear anything Faye had to say; the very sound of the woman’s voice put her on edge. But she could hardly shoo her away with flapping arms and loud noises the way she did the wayward geese that tried to nose their way into the boathouse.
“Would you like some coffee?” Lily made a gesture toward the house.
“Listen, now, you don’t have to pretend. We both know we don’t like each other.” Lily opened her mouth out of polite habit to deny it, but Faye held up a hand to stop her. “Doesn’t matter. Because we do both love your daddy.”
“What’s wrong with Dad?” Lily’s heart sped up a bit.
“The doctor says it’s just a warning—”
“What is?” Alarm prickled Lily’s skin.
“Well, I’m trying to tell you.” She stood there and gave Lily the same silent glare grade school teachers used when someone was talking out of turn. When she finally seemed satisfied that Lily wasn’t going to interrupt, she went on. “He’s been having this tightness in his chest”—Faye splayed her hand across her heart—“and some pain—”
“Heart attack! Dad’s having a heart attack?” Lily headed toward the door. “Where is he?”
“Would you just put your interfering little tushie down on that chair and listen to what I have to say?”
Lily stopped and looked at Faye. Her panic subsided somewhat. After that scene at the hospital, Lily knew if Benny was in any danger, Faye would be hanging from the rafters, squawking like a crow.
Lily finally sat down, even though she didn’t like the way Faye was talking to her. One battle at a time.
“Okay, tell me what’s wrong with Dad.”
“As I was trying to say”—she gifted Lily with one more pointed look—“he’s been having this tightness in his chest, so I hauled his cranky backside to the doctor today. Oh, he didn’t want to go—you know Benny. But I told him if he didn’t, I was going to quit and leave him to run that damn pub by hisself.” She paused, seeming to relish the drawing out of the story.
“The doctor said it was just a warning—called it an ‘episode.’ Your daddy’s been under so much stress lately—with the fire, and now running this new kind of place. Of course, before this he didn’t have a lick of debt, but now the bank is holding a big note—so that’s weighing on him, too.”
“You’re trying to say it’s my fault he’s having heart trouble?” Lily asked, coming back to her feet.
“I’m not here to lay blame.” She raised a hand, lowered her gaze, and turned her head slightly.
The look on her face told Lily that wasn’t exactly true. As long as that blame could be laid at Lily’s feet, she was certain it’d make Faye’s day to put it there all tied up with a neat purple bow. Lily forced herself to remain quiet until Faye had said her piece. But her body was buzzing with the need to lash out, to defend herself.
Faye went on, “I’m just telling you what’s happening. Benny’s under a lot of stress, he worries about everybody. He knows if this business fails, Henry is going to be out of work—and we both know Henry’s too old and too deaf to find a new job. He’s concerned about Riley…. All I’m saying is that we all need to make sure we don’t give him anything more to worry about right now.”
“That’s how you see me, someone who just causes Dad worry?”
“Now, don’t go putting words in my mouth—”
“But that’s it, isn’t it? You don’t like me taking any of his attention. That’s why you’ve been so nasty to me.”
Lily found herself practically nose to nose with her. “I’m his daughter, for God’s sake.”
Faye’s face hardened; her eyes glittered with anger. “You’re his grown daughter. You haven’t seen fit to show your face around here for years, left him here alone so you could live in the big city with your new rich family.” She flung a well-manicured finger to the north. “You think that didn’t hurt him?”
“But I always brought him up to see us—”
“Yeah, well, that’s just nice.” Sarcasm rang in her voice. “Too busy to pop in and see how his life is going, just drag him all over creation on the holidays when he wanted nothing more than to be at home.
“You leave here without a thought for him. But once you lose your rich family, here you come, dragging back here with a boy who’s in trouble and no plan for your future. And if that wasn’t enough to put on your daddy, you have to try and change what he is. Now that you’re back in town, Benny and the Crossing House aren’t good enough. No, you have to push him into changing. Now it’s all on him. He has to make it work—or the bank will have everything.”
“I never said the Crossing House wasn’t good enough! That’s not the way it is at all. And the changes in the business are good. Dad stands to make a lot more money and this town needed a place like the ‘new’ Crossing House.”
Faye waved a hand in the air to dismiss her argument. “I’m sure we could stand here and chew on this all day—”
Lily stepped forward. “I don’t want to ‘chew on’ it, I want you to finally admit that the changes to the business are not the disaster you predicted.”
“That’s not why I came here.”
“Well, as long as you are here, let’s just get this one point out of the way.”
Faye cast a longing look at the lake, as if she were planning an escape. “All right! All right!” She threw her hands in the air. “Business is good.” Her hands settled on her hips. “Can we get back to your daddy now?”
“Yes.” Lily doused the spark of victory that wanted to ring out in her voice.
“I came to tell you it’s time to put your daddy first. He can’t keep workin’ seven days a week and fretting over everybody’s happiness.”
“Dad cares about people, lots of people, not just me. There’s no way you can stop him from worrying about other people.”
“I know that! It’s just some people are a lot closer to his heart, and that makes the burden of their problems heavier.”
Most of what Faye said was true, albeit biased in the telling. Lily hadn’t really thought about how it would affect her dad when she looked to him for help with Riley.
She ground her teeth together. The biting reality in Faye’s words gnawed into her heart. But Faye was right, she was a grown woman who shouldn’t be relying on her father to sort out her troubles.
“What do you want me to do?” Lily tried to sound receptive to suggestions, even though she wanted to knock Faye down on the ground and roll around in the dirt with her for a good round.
“I just want you to be aware—to keep from putting extra concern on his shoulders. I know you feel you need help with Riley, but Benny’s raised his kids. He’s earned a rest from that part of life.”
Looking at things in that context, Lily felt like a failure not only as a daughter but as a mother as well. She’d be damned if she’d let Faye see it. “Maybe he could hire another bartender, shorten his hours, take a day off.”
“He’s already hired and fired two—nobody runs that bar to suit him. I’m thinkin’ employees cause him more stress than they relieve. But he’ll find the right combination eventually. We just have to help him all we can until then.”
Lily simply nodded. “Did the doctor put him on medication?”
“An aspirin a day. Don’t that beat all in this day of advanced medicine?”
“Maybe he should see a specialist. I can take him to Chicago—there’s a wonderful heart hospital—”
“There you go again!” Faye threw her hands in the air. “Runnin’ your daddy’s life. I think he and Dr. Shelley can decide when and if he needs to see a specialist.”
She was turning Lily’s good intentions against her. “I just want to make sure he’s well cared for.”
Faye narrowed her gaze and looked at Lily from the corner of her eye. “So do I, sugar. So do I.”
“I’ll get cleaned up and go see him.” Lily moved to close up the boathouse.
“I think it’d be better if you didn’t. He didn’t want you to know, said you have way too much on your hands at the moment to be worrying about him.”
Lily felt like an interloper. She’d come home only to discover the fabric of her father’s life had simply rewoven the hole she’d left. For the briefest second she truly hated Faye. Which just confirmed that Faye was right, she was putting her feelings before her father’s.
Apparently Faye had said her piece. She turned and walked back toward the house. As she did, she said, “We just have to help him, without him knowing he’s being helped.”
Lily stood there, blinking in the sun, until Faye disappeared around the house. She forced the anger away. Faye thought Lily wanted the changes in the Crossing House for her own selfish reasons. Clay had said much the same. She tried to see clearly into her own heart.
The new Crossing House was busy; the town seemed to like the changes. But she had to ask herself, was her dad happier? From what Faye had said, the answer to that was resoundingly clear.
Faye had made her feel like a criminal for wanting to take him to a specialist. Lily just wanted what was best for her dad.
What followed on the heels of that thought made Lily’s stomach roll. She was starting down the same road with her dad that Peter’s parents had done with Peter and Riley. Thinking she knew the best course, she’d pushed until that path had been followed. But, she thought, her dad seemed happy about the renovations to the Crossing House.
Faye’s unbidden voice rose in her head, He’s happy because it pleases you.
She recalled the defeated way he’d looked that first day when he returned to the Crossing House after the fire. That place was his whole life. He liked it just the way it was—it had been comfortable for him.
Now it was a burden.
Shame flushed her cheeks.
Good intentions aside, Lily had to admit, maybe she’d made a mistake.
Riley had just about been ready to give up on the idea that Mickey would show up when she walked into the clearing. He’d been hanging around the place where they’d spent that first day together, reading his book. Well, he was trying to read. But every time he heard a chipmunk in the brush or a bird in the trees, his gaze shot immediately to the path.
“Hi,” he said, now not at all certain why he’d been so anxious for her to arrive.
“Hi, Goofy.” She walked over to where she kept her blanket stashed. “How come you’re not using this?” she asked, as she pulled it from the black garbage bag.
Riley lifted a shoulder. “Forgot about it.” Which, of course, wasn’t at all true. He just felt like he was trespassing, using her stuff when she wasn’t around.
Mickey spent a few minutes getting herself situated, then she said, “You can sit with me, there’s plenty of room.”
She leaned her back against a tree and opened her book.
Since she wasn’t making a big deal about it, Riley got up and moved to the blanket. He laid on his stomach and opened his book to the same page he’d been trying to read for the past half hour. But the same question that had been plaguing him since he got here kept running in circles in his mind: Did Mickey know her dad was a dealer?
He looked at her from the corner of his eye. Her hair hid most of her face as she read. He wished she’d look up so he could see her eyes, just for a minute. It seemed like if a person was carrying that kind of secret, if you looked closely enough you should be able to see it in her eyes.
She kept reading.
Finally, he gave up and closed his book. Rol
ling onto his back, he looked into the treetops. He laced his fingers over his chest and decided he was just going to have to start asking questions.
He turned his head her way and asked, “Do you eat breakfast with your dad every day?” Of course, he doubted it. Mickey had looked too uncomfortable sitting across from her dad in that booth at the Dew Drop.
She took a minute, looking like she was finishing reading a sentence, then she raised her eyes to meet his. Riley suddenly didn’t want to look into her eyes, for secrets or anything else. He looked back into the trees.
“No. I think he’s feeling guilty,” she said.
Riley’s heart sped up, but he didn’t look at her. “Guilty? About what?”
Mickey sighed. It was a sound filled with sadness. “I guess because he spends so much time with my brother. I heard Mom saying some stuff about it to him on the phone the other night.”
That wasn’t the kind of guilt Riley had been anticipating.
Mickey went on, “I don’t mind that he spends more time with Drew. Dad and I don’t have much to talk about.”
Riley could relate to that. He and his dad, although they spent plenty of time together, never seemed to have the same idea about anything. Dad just couldn’t understand why Riley questioned all of the rules, wanted an explanation for everything. But it seemed stupid to just follow along because somebody at some point in time decided that was the way it was going to be. A person should think about what he’s doing, understand why things work the way they do.
He was getting off track. “What does your dad do—for work, I mean?”
“He’s a salesman for Burkhardt Chevrolet. He told me that’s how he got such an expensive car. He gets a deal.”
“Oh, yeah?” Riley rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. “What’s he drive?”
Mickey swatted a fly away. “Some Corvette.”
How could girls do it? “Some Corvette,” like they’re all alike and the details didn’t matter. “What year?”
The Road Home Page 27