The Road Home

by Susan Crandall

  She shrugged. “Pretty new. It’s black.”

  Black. Again with the girly particulars.

  “Convertible or hard top?” Was he going to have to drag it out one bit at a time? With his buddies, he’d have had everything by now, horsepower, engine size, options—how often it was waxed.

  “Convertible.”

  “Man, I wish my dad drove a car like that.”

  Mickey asked, “What does your dad drive?”

  Riley shook his head. “Boring BMW—just like everybody else.”

  Mickey laughed. “Like everybody else! I don’t think there’s even one of those in Glens Crossing.”

  “Where I come from, they’re everywhere. Everybody drives the same car, everybody wears the same clothes, everybody listens to the same music, everybody goes to the same golf club. It’s like they’re afraid to be different.”

  Mickey seemed to think about that for a second. “Hmmm, I don’t think I’d like that. I’d probably stick out more there than I do here.”

  He wanted to assure her she stuck out for all of the right reasons, but he just said, “It’s boring. Real boring.”

  “Well, I think it’s boring around here.”

  “It’s not the same kind of boring.” Suddenly it all became so clear to him. Why hadn’t he seen it before? “There it’s the kind of boring that makes you itch, makes you feel like you have to do something just to prove to yourself you’re not exactly the same as everyone else, just so you know you can be different.”

  “Is that why you blew up the bathroom at your school?” Mickey asked as easily as if she were asking him if he preferred basketball or football.

  “It was only the toilets, not the whole bathroom. And how did you know about that?”

  “Things get around.” She paused, then she asked with a giggle, “Is it true that a teacher was on one of those toilets?”

  Riley rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Who said that?”

  “I don’t remember, I heard it somewhere. You can never believe half of what you hear around this town.”

  That brought Riley’s original question rushing back. Did she know her dad sold weed? Or maybe, he thought, that was one of those things that had been growing with each telling—like a teacher on the toilet. How could anybody even believe such a thing? Maybe her dad wasn’t a dealer at all.

  “How come you’re not at the marina?” she asked, pulling him from his current dilemma.

  “Marina’s closed. Bud had to leave town for something.”

  “I’ve got some money, wanna go get ice cream?”

  “Sure.” He helped her fold the blanket and they headed out on the path that led to Mill Run Road.

  About halfway to the Arctic Express, a car passed, then slowed to a stop. Riley watched nervously as its reverse lights came on and it began to back up toward them.

  “Oh, brother,” Mickey said with disappointment in her voice.

  “What?”

  “Ryan Thompson and Matt Roberts. Trouble on wheels.”

  When the car backed alongside of them, Riley saw it was the two guys from the arcade. “Hey,” he said, and stepped closer to the passenger door.

  “Dude, you need a ride?”

  Riley noticed that Mickey hadn’t come any nearer to the car. “Nah, thanks. What are you guys up to?”

  “We’re lookin’ to hook up with a little entertainment later tonight. Care to join us?” The one in the passenger seat looked past Riley’s shoulder. “But you can’t bring her. T-man won’t have any of that.”

  “When and where?” Riley asked.

  “We can pick you up.”

  “I’m gonna be out, I’ll just meet you. Where?”

  “Well, T-man likes to do his business at the park. Meet us at the gate at eight.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” He stepped away from the car. “Later.”

  The engine revved a couple of times, then the car peeled away, leaving behind the stink of hot rubber.

  “Morons,” Mickey said as she waved the smoke away from her face. “What’d they want?”

  “Nothin’. I just talked to them the other night after you went home.”

  She looked into his eyes and touched his arm. “Those guys are up to no good. You’d be better off to stay away from them.”

  The seriousness and honesty he saw in her eyes made him shift his feet. “No problem.”

  For the rest of the walk to the Arctic Express, Riley was mulling over how he was going to get out of the house tonight.

  Chapter 19

  After Faye left, Lily felt like all of her creativity had been sucked into a red and green whirlwind and carried away. She wrapped the potter’s clay in plastic and closed up the boathouse. She’d just gotten out of the shower when she heard Riley come in. She looked at her watch and was surprised to find it was after two.

  She’d planned a late lunch due to the fact that Riley had already had two breakfasts. He was in his room when she came out of the bathroom. She called through his door, “Ready for lunch?”

  He grunted a positive response; she went to the kitchen and made sandwiches. It was too nice to be inside, so she called Riley down and took lunch on a tray out to the dock. She’d pulled the Adirondack chairs out to the end of the dock, so she could sit in the evenings. Riley rarely joined her.

  Just when she was ready to call him again through the open windows, he came out the back door and down the steps.

  “It’s hot, why are we eating out here?”

  “It’s not hot. It’s a pleasant summer day. The sun on your skin will help build vitamin D.”

  “Really, Mom…” He sounded exasperated, but had a smile on his face.

  “Really. It’s essential for good bone growth.”

  “I’d rather eat in the shade.”

  “Too bad.”

  He shook his head and sat down.

  About halfway through his sandwich he said, “This morning I ran into some of the guys I met at the arcade.”

  “Really? Out here by the lake?”

  He nodded. “They asked me to come to the arcade again tonight.”

  Lily’s first instinct was to say no, absolutely not on a work night. But she knew from experience that only led to a bullheaded confrontation, so she asked a few questions first. “Who are these boys?”

  “Ryan and Matt.”

  “Do they have last names?”

  Riley set his jaw and blew out a long breath. “Yes, I’m sure they have last names—I just can’t remember what they are.”

  “How old are they?”

  He shrugged. “Dunno. I guess around my age.”

  Lily didn’t like the way he wasn’t looking at her when he answered these very basic questions. “I don’t know that it’s a good idea to get in the habit of going there and hanging out on a weeknight—when you have to work so early the next morning.”

  “Geez, Mom. It’s not like I go to bed before eleven anyhow.”

  She sat there and pretended to be mulling it over. No way was she letting him out on a weeknight, especially with kids who only had first names and indefinite ages. Although he seemed to be making progress, she just couldn’t trust him that far yet.

  “Oh, Riley, I don’t think so. Maybe you can invite them over here tomorrow night for a cookout. I’ll do those baked beans you like.” Better to put names and faces together before she let Riley stray too far with them.

  He got up out of his chair with a jerk. “Never mind. I knew you wouldn’t let me.” His footfalls on the dock were so hard on his way back to land that Lily felt them vibrate her chair.

  “Yeah,” she said under her breath. “I’m a regular killjoy. Ruin everything. Just ask Gramps.”

  The taciturn teenager Lily expected to be dining with didn’t show up. Riley was quiet but polite when he came down for dinner—not at all the brooding, resentful boy she’d anticipated seeing. He even offered to clean up the dishes by himself.

  Lily was pleased and allowed herself
to bask, ever so briefly, in the warmth of relief. Not everything she had done since she left Chicago had turned to shit. Even if she’d screwed up with her dad, this summer was beginning to do exactly what she’d hoped for her son. His temper had calmed, his mood swings had mellowed and he seemed to be accepting responsibility both at work and at home.

  She considered telling him she’d changed her mind about the arcade, but she didn’t want to send the wrong message there, either: Behave like a model child for ten minutes and you can immediately get what you couldn’t by throwing a fit. She’d just wait and see. If over the next few days his positive attitude continued, she’d grant him extra privileges.

  Riley went up to his room early to read, saying he was almost finished with The Lord of the Rings. Lily was impressed—that was one thick novel for a kid who had to be forced at gunpoint to read the novels assigned at school.

  After he went upstairs, she went out to sit in one of the chairs on the dock and watch the sky darken. She stretched her legs in front of her, crossing her ankles. Leaning her head against the tall slatted back of the chair, she let herself become hypnotized by the slow and subtle transformation of color as the sun slipped farther below the horizon. By concentrating on the changing sky, she could keep Faye’s accusations and decisions about Riley at bay—at least until it became dark. Once full darkness fell, she always had a difficult time ignoring the monsters under the bed.

  The heavens took on the magnificent purple of twilight and Lily saw lights come on in the few houses nestled in the trees across the lake. The rosebush at the side of the boathouse perfumed the warm air. Somewhere someone had started a wood fire. She breathed in the scent of summer nights from her youth. Timeless fragrances that instantly drew images of bonfires and lakeshore gatherings, games played by restless teens and the warm security of having Luke and Peter and Clay nearby.

  A dog was barking, the sound echoing across the water. Lily felt more at home than she had anywhere in the past fourteen years. And that surprised her.

  From the moment she’d married Peter, she’d felt like a visitor, a displaced person taking up residence with a charitable family, a poor relative to be tolerated but never fully expected to fit in. She’d waged an active battle against her sense of dislocation for years. She redecorated the house Peter’s parents had bought and were reselling to them, but it didn’t make it feel any more her own. She hosted holiday dinners and brought her dad to visit. Still, the feeling lingered behind each opened gift and every dirty dish. Branching out beyond her household, she joined in community activities—of course, they weren’t activities Samantha approved of; Lily spent her time working with illiteracy programs and teaching pottery classes to inner city kids. However, nothing gave her the settled peace she was looking for. She hadn’t imagined she’d find it right back where she started, in the place she’d so willingly left behind.

  She heard a footfall on the dock. Sitting up, she turned in her seat and looked over her shoulder, fully expecting to see Riley.

  The broad-shouldered dark silhouette standing at the shore end of the dock was certainly not her son. It was a man. His form was backlit by the soft yellow light from the kitchen window. He wasn’t moving, just standing there with his hands in his pockets.

  The image of the single rose on her pillow flashed through her mind—a mystery not yet solved.

  “Hello?” she said, rising to her feet.

  The man walked slowly toward her.

  Just when she was ready to start making some real noise, she recognized him.

  “Are you trying to give me heart failure?” she said.

  Clay didn’t say anything, just kept his slow, steady pace toward her. When she saw the tense way he moved, memory came crashing back. He was furious. He rarely lost his temper. Never could she remember hearing him yell, but holding that anger in restraint took all of his strength and it resonated in each and every muscle.

  “What’s happened?” The words fell from her lips without thought.

  He stopped in front of her, but didn’t say anything. His gaze held her as immobile as if he’d had his hands clamped on her shoulders.

  “Clay, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” She reached out and put a hand on his arm. He jerked away as if she’d burned him with her touch.

  “You weren’t ever going to tell me.” The words came slowly, as if he had to force each one from his throat.

  Lily flashed hot all over. He couldn’t know. No one knew. Her own father didn’t know. The only one…

  She closed her eyes and the dock seemed to rock wildly beneath her feet. An iron band clamped around her chest, making it impossible to breathe. The evening grayed more deeply than was natural. Teetering slightly, she grabbed for the closest thing to steady herself—Clay’s arm.

  This time he didn’t pull away, nor did he offer further assistance. Lily clung to the rock-hard muscle in his forearm, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into liquid and flow through the planking of the dock.

  She forced her eyes open but couldn’t bring herself to look into Clay’s. She focused on his chest instead. “You went to see Peter?”

  He nodded once.

  Lily’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. Her mind scrambled wildly for direction. “Why? What good could possibly come of it?”

  He did yank his arm away then, ignoring her question and leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty. This was the moment she’d never thought would come. Clay had been gone for fourteen years, allowing her to put even the shadow of a possibility of dealing with this scenario out of her mind. And even after she had seen him again, there was little danger. Peter was locked safely in rehab two hundred and fifty miles away. She would be gone from Glens Crossing by the end of the summer. There was no way this should have happened.

  But Clay had gone to see Peter. Had there been an ugly confrontation? Or had they discussed things like calm adults, each laying his cards on the table? The strained feel of Clay’s muscle under her hand told her it had been an emotional meeting. She wondered if Peter had explained why he’d neglected to give Lily Clay’s message, why he hadn’t told her where Clay was when he so obviously knew. She desperately wanted the answers. But she didn’t want to ask. All she could do was stand in the red cloud of Clay’s fury and wait.

  He spun around and walked in a tight circle on the dock. His hand massaged the back of his neck as if working out a cramp.

  If he didn’t say something soon, Lily was going to faint from holding her breath. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t, be the one to speak next.

  On his third tight revolution around a spot on the dock only he could see, he stopped and faced her again. His jaw flexed rhythmically, his mouth was drawn into a tense line. Then he said, “What good could come of it? Considering your current position, I guess that question is reasonable. Weeks and weeks have gone by and you never hinted… I guess you’re right, what good could it do you?”

  “What good could it do anyone? Right now, I can’t see a single shred of good come of it. Can you say you’re better off now than you were yesterday?” She paused, but not long enough for him to respond. “No! This has just raised more misery.”

  He stared hard at her. For a moment she thought he was going to explode into violence. Then she heard him suck in a deep breath and let it out in quivering bursts. “Misery for who?”

  “Look at us! Yes, all four of us have been robbed of what should have been. But just maybe we’re better off for it.”

  “Better off!” He barked out a sharp crack of mirthless laughter. “Peter’s an alcoholic. The kid is two steps away from getting thrown in jail. You’re continually running away—”

  “I’m not running away!”

  “Really? The way I see it, that’s all you’ve done.” He let that remark hang in the air for a moment. “You ran away from this town. You ran away from your marriage. You thought you could run away from Riley’s troubles. You’re trying to run away from your past by changing your dad.” He paused, th
en said with darkness in his voice, “But worst of all, you ran away from your faith in me—in what we had together.”

  “Ohhh, that’s not fair,” she said in a low tone. “You were gone! I had to make a decision, and I had to make it quickly. I did what I thought was best—it turns out it was best. You were in jail. I couldn’t stay here and cause Dad and Molly more embarrassment. Just what would you have had me do?”

  He shook his head and moved closer. “I’m not talking about then.” He pointed a finger behind him. “I’m talking about now.” He jerked his finger in front of him and pointed at the ground. “This summer. Here, in Glens Crossing. You’ve lied to me every day since you came back by keeping this from me. Even after you knew I didn’t leave you of my own free will.”

  “Oh, my God! When do you think I should have told you? The first day at the marina? Or maybe after Riley repeatedly cried himself to sleep because of your harsh treatment? Or perhaps after you made love to me, then treated me like I carried a contagious disease for two weeks after?”

  “Stop looking for excuses.”

  “I don’t need excuses. I have valid, concrete, legitimate reasons.” She punctuated each word by slapping the back of one hand against the palm of the other. “And none of them have anything to do with running away. Riley is in a terrible place right now, trying to see his way through some really difficult times. He loves Peter as his father. Should I upset his entire world, just so you’re in on the biological reality of his being?

  “And what about Peter? He’s in such a precarious emotional state right now. Riley is his son, in every way but one. Riley is Bill and Samantha’s only grandchild. And Dad? Do you know what dragging all of this out now will do to him?

  “And, honestly, up until this moment, I thought you were better off not knowing. You can barely stand to be in the same room as Riley. You don’t even want children.” She stopped and drew a breath. “No one knows, Clay. No one has to know. It’s better left alone. I made that decision a long time ago. It’s too late to undo it.”

  He advanced on her, anger glittering in his eyes. “It’s never too late for the truth!”