Lily felt what was left of her world crumble beneath her feet. She barely found the breath to form the words, “Are you going to tell him?”
“Funny,” Clay said, in a tone that held absolutely no humor, “Peter asked the same question.”
Standing her ground, she made herself press on. “Are you?”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
Lily felt a touch of relief. At least he wasn’t going to bull into the house this very minute, shouting it as he ran up the stairs.
“Where is he?” Clay asked.
That relief evaporated. “Why?”
“Don’t sound so scared. I said I haven’t made up my mind.”
She swallowed. “He’s in his room.”
He stood there for a minute and Lily futilely searched for the right words to make him see reason.
He said, “I thought you and I had a second chance.” His hard gaze held her until she nearly flinched. “I couldn’t have been more wrong.”
He turned around and stalked back toward land.
It took all of her willpower to not go after him. Pleading would do no good. He’d been blindsided. Why wouldn’t he be angry? She needed time to formulate an approach that would ensure a positive outcome.
She’d been so certain it was best for Clay not to know. She’d made that decision after she saw what a changed man he was; she’d done it alone—and maybe that wasn’t fair. Maybe Clay had the right to know, whether he wanted to be a parent or not.
She still couldn’t understand why Peter had told him. Was it in a fit of one-upsmanship? Had he even considered the fallout it would cause—not just with Riley, but with Bill and Samantha? She and Peter had decided long ago that no one would ever know. Peter’s name was on the birth certificate; there was no way for anyone to discover otherwise.
She felt like throwing herself in the lake. There was no way she and Clay could get beyond this. But an even greater concern was her son—their son. If Clay insisted on telling him, how would Riley react?
Well, she just couldn’t let that happen. She had to make Clay see.
Her first instinct was to go to her dad. He’d be disappointed in her not being honest with him from the beginning, but…
Faye’s accusations came crashing back.
Things were one huge mess—but she was going to have to find her way through on her own.
Lily sat in the darkness, listening to the gentle lap of the water against the deck pilings. She took herself back in time, to the moment when she’d made the decision that set the course for her life—for Riley’s life.
At the time, Peter’s motivations seemed noble and born of love. She tried to recall exactly how things had progressed that fall.
She had waited two weeks after her fight with Clay. By then her anger had cooled. If Clay was ever going to get over it, his anger should have calmed too. She called him at the apartment he shared with Peter. A stranger answered the phone. There had been a lot of noise in the background, like a party. She asked for Clay. The stranger had told her Clay had left school. Then she’d asked for Peter, but Peter had gone to the liquor store.
After hanging up the phone, Lily had gone to the bathroom and thrown up. Clay had left school. But he hadn’t made any effort to contact her.
Over the next week, her nausea came more regularly. She was late enough with her period that she was fairly certain she was pregnant. The more she tried not to think about it, the more it dominated her thoughts. Panic inched ever closer, threatening to take over altogether.
Finally, she tried to reach Clay through his dad. In such an impersonal tone that it seemed he was discussing a stranger, Douglas Winters confirmed that his son was gone. He had no idea where, nor did he care to know. When Lily pushed, Mr. Winters said that Clay would not be returning—ever. Then he told her not to call again and hung up the phone.
Panic did overtake her then, covering her like a flaming blanket. Clay was gone. She was pregnant. What was she going to do?
Three days later she finally spoke to Peter, hoping against hope that he knew where Clay had gone. When Peter confirmed that Clay had indeed moved out of the apartment, she couldn’t keep a choked sob from escaping. When he pressed for answers, she took the Douglas Winters approach and hung up the phone.
Peter showed up in Glens Crossing the next weekend. He was concerned and attentive, making her see what a good friend she had in him. Saturday night he took her to Arctic Express for a hamburger. On the way home, she had to have him stop the car so she could throw up in the bushes. His concern had been like salve to a stinging burn. He took care of her, and later that night she confided in him that she was pregnant.
Peter wasn’t in the least judgmental. He held her while she cried, murmuring reassuring things over and over, until she began to feel she might have the strength to withstand what lay ahead.
She loved him for his friendship. She loved him for his lack of condemnation. But most of all, she loved him because he cared enough to let his own life slide by while he helped settle hers.
He missed the next week of school, refusing to leave her to deal with this on her own. During those days, she and Peter sat out at his parents’ lake house, talking the time away. She got a strong sense that Peter truly cared for her—not just as a friend. But that just made things too complicated to even think about, so she tried to ignore the closeness that was growing between them.
Late in that week, she told him she’d made a decision. She was leaving Glens Crossing. She’d go someplace where no one knew her and find a job, start a life. No one here had to know about the baby. Her family had already endured one scandal. She didn’t want to be the source of more pain for her father. And the embarrassment to Molly would be horrible. Plus, Molly wanted to be a doctor—and to do that, she was going to need a scholarship. Many of those scholarships were awarded by local people. Lily couldn’t risk staying here and interfering with Molly’s chances.
Immediately Peter said he had a much better solution. He admitted he was in love with her and asked her to marry him.
She refused with tears in her eyes. She told him that she did love him—but she wasn’t in love with him. And there was no way she could ask him to settle for that. But Peter hadn’t been the least deterred. He’d been persistent with his arguments and persuasions. By the next Monday, he had nearly convinced her that they could make a life together, could be a family.
Lily had begun to see that maybe loving someone was enough. Being “in love” hadn’t held her parents’ marriage together—hadn’t kept Clay by her side. Maybe the quiet kind of love was safest and the strongest.
Peter had never once suggested she abort the pregnancy. And for that she would be ever grateful. It’s not that she hadn’t considered it. She had. It was something that had gone around and around in her head for days on end. She was mad as hell at Clay. She was furious with herself. But this baby was innocent. The pros and cons had warred in her heart until she thought she’d lose her mind. But, in the end, Peter had saved her from having to make that choice.
She didn’t know if she could ever forgive him for not telling her where Clay was that fall. Had she known, she would have turned Peter down and waited for Clay. Then would Riley have been better off?
At this point, she could only speculate. But she felt in her heart, even though he was going through some difficult times now, Riley had a better start than he would have had being born to a single mother and a father in jail.
At nine o’clock, she decided to take a hot shower to try to ease some of her tension. As she went into the bathroom, she saw Riley’s light was already out. So much for all that talk about not going to bed until eleven.
The heat and steam did little to chase the knots out of her muscles. The more she tried not to think about the things Clay had said, the louder they resonated in her head. She pushed away the hurtful words he’d flung at her, grasping on to the main reason for her concern, the single thing she had a modicum of control o
ver. How was she going to make sure he didn’t tell Riley?
She assured herself, had Clay been bound to behave recklessly, he’d have insisted on seeing Riley right away, laying the truth out before the child without a thought for his well-being. He hadn’t done that. And the longer she could hold him off, the better her chances were of making him understand why it was so much better to leave things alone.
There was a part of her that felt sorry for Clay’s loss, for all he had missed. But fate had dealt them a crappy hand, and she had to play her cards to the best advantage for her child. Clay would see that.
Her skin was reddened from the hot water when she toweled off. Before she reached the bedroom door, the telephone rang. The shrill sound coming from her robe pocket made her jump. She quickly pulled it out and answered it before it woke Riley.
“Hello.” She went into her bedroom and closed the door.
“I thought you said Riley was in his room,” Clay said sharply.
She was in no mood to go another round with him tonight. Her voice was as tight as her shoulders when she said, “He is.”
“Go look.”
“Really, Clay—”
“Do it. I’ll wait.” Something in his tone made her relent. It wasn’t anger, it was something much closer to dread.
“All right.”
She put the phone down on the bed and went to Riley’s door. After knocking softly, she eased it open. There was her son, right where he should be, under the sheets, curled on his side with his face to the wall. She went back to the phone.
“I just looked in. He’s there.”
There was a pause. “He’s not there. I just saw him.”
“Dammit, Clay, I said he’s there. Goodnight!” She punched the off button.
After a second, she started to doubt herself. She’d just go take another look. It was ridiculous, but she’d rest better being certain. Here Clay was, hours into fatherhood, and already rocking the boat.
She looked into Riley’s room again, this time turning on the hall light and opening the door wide enough to let it fall across his bed.
He was so still.
She stepped into the room. When she laid her hand on his shoulder, a spear of ice-cold fear shot through her. It wasn’t Riley, it was pillows. The oldest teenage trick in the book.
She ran back to her bedroom. She had to call Clay, find out where he’d seen him.
Before she could pick up the phone again, it rang. “Riley?”
“I figured you’d check again. You’re one damn stubborn woman.”
“Where is he?”
“I’ll bring him home.”
“No—”
He hung up.
Lily’s heart lodged in her throat.
Would Riley come along? Or would he put up a fight?
And might Clay deem this the proper opportunity to spill his guts?
She threw on some clothes, then began to pace the front porch.
Chapter 20
An hour passed. Riley couldn’t have been that far from home. Something terrible was happening, and all Lily could do was pace around on her front porch with a death grip on the cordless phone.
As the hour-and-a-half mark approached, Lily saw headlights coming up the drive. She hurried down the steps and met Clay’s truck in front of the house, squinting against the glare of the headlights.
The passenger door opened before the truck stopped rolling. Riley got out. He slammed the door and stalked around the truck, right past her and up the porch steps.
As he passed, Lily got the definite scent of marijuana.
“Riley!”
He went inside and the screen door snapped shut behind him.
Suddenly she wished this had been a case of simple disobedience, of leaving the house without permission. It made her heart ache and her temper snap to realize Riley had been out breaking the law. All of his progress had been a figment of her longing imagination.
In a red cloud of anger and frustration, Lily started after him.
Clay must have sprung from the truck like a big cat, because before she made it to the steps, he clamped a hand on her arm. “Don’t.”
She jerked her arm to free herself, but he held tight. “Let me go.”
He didn’t release her. “Just wait a minute—”
Setting her jaw and dragging in a deep breath of dread, she turned and asked him, “Did you tell him?”
There was a flash in Clay’s eyes that told her she’d wounded him. “No.”
“Then where in the hell have you two been?”
“It took me a while to find him. When I did…” He looked over her shoulder toward the house.
“I smelled it on him. Where was he?” The relief valve on her anger was leaking. Her voice rose to a near shout. “And where did he get the stuff?”
“Hey!” He let go of her arm. “Don’t look at me like I’m responsible! I just found the kid.”
Lily closed her eyes and ordered herself to calm down. Opening them, she tried to coax civility into her voice. “Where was he?”
“In the park, in a car with a couple of older kids. That’s why it took me so long to find him, they’d parked behind a thick stand of shrubs.”
“An hour and a half? The park’s not that big!”
“When I reached in and hauled him out of the back seat of the car, his buddies started the engine and took off. Once I got him to stop swinging at me, we spent some time discussing—actually I talked, he sulked—how some people who say they’re your friends, aren’t. How some people can’t be trusted, no matter how close you think you are.”
Lily wanted to slap him. Instead, she turned around and walked to the front door.
“Don’t do it, Lily.”
“Do what?” she asked without turning around.
“He’s the one who’s in the wrong. He should come to you.”
“Well, thank you, Dr. Phil,” she said as she turned to face him. “I suppose you’re just full of parental advice, now that you know.”
“Knowing changed everything.”
She stepped closer to him. “Knowing changes nothing!” The last word came from between clenched teeth and she slashed her index finger through the air for emphasis. “Mind your own damn business.” She punctuated each word with a poke in his chest.
Leaning down into her face, he said, “If I decide to make it so, that boy is my business.”
“Don’t you lord that threat over me. And don’t act like you’re suddenly full of concern for Riley. If you really cared about him, you wouldn’t threaten to use him as a tool to hurt me.”
She spun around and stormed up the steps. Once inside, she closed the door and threw the deadbolt, as if she could lock all of her uncertainties out in the dark night along with Clay Winters.
Leaning against the door, she waited to hear his truck start. Several minutes passed and it remained eerily silent outside. She turned out the living room light and eased to the window. Looking out, she saw Clay sitting in his truck with the door open, his wrists on top of the steering wheel, his face lowered onto his outstretched arms.
She knew her hostility only served to inflame the situation between them. She’d have to deal with him sooner or later, and do it in a fashion that ensured he wouldn’t hurt her son. She certainly didn’t want to goad him into telling Riley the truth simply to spite her.
However, her immediate problem was dealing with Riley’s most recent fall from grace. Clay was just going to have to wait his own damn turn.
After locking the back door and closing the first-floor windows, Lily headed upstairs. She went to Riley’s closed bedroom door and stopped with her hand raised to knock.
Listening carefully, she heard a sniffle. She bit her lower lip.
Maybe it would be more productive to wait, see what Riley would do if she didn’t insist on having it out right here and now.
She always felt like she had to meet these things head-on, deal immediately, let him know exactly how he’d scr
ewed up and what the consequences were.
Yeah, and so far that’s produced stellar results.
It really pissed her off to think Clay might actually have a valid point.
She turned around and walked slowly to her bedroom, feeling drained and defeated. Everything she’d been doing—with her dad, with Riley, and obviously with Peter—seemed to have been wrong. Every effort had made things worse. She only hoped she could manage better in dealing with Clay and the whole paternity issue. God, if she didn’t…
And there was still the nagging worry that the pregnancy test had been wrong. She still hadn’t started her period.
She laid down on her bed with her clothes on, leaving the bedroom door open in case Riley tried to sneak back out.
How had her relationship with her son been reduced to that of jailer?
It took all of her willpower not to get up and walk down that hallway.
Lily dreamed she was in the fire tower.
The legendary ghost played a hauntingly sad melody on his fiddle, endlessly searching for the spirit of his lover. The strains wrapped around her, lifted her up until she hovered near the stars.
Suddenly Clay was there beside her, wrapped in the starry night. They tumbled back to earth together, locked in a kiss.
They spent the rest of the night in the tower, making love with their young bodies, promising devotion with their inexperienced hearts.
The pink sky of dawn awakened them. And with the new day, Clay was different, distant—a stranger. When Lily turned around from gathering her clothes, he was gone. Other than the faint scent of his cologne clinging to her skin, he’d left no trace of his presence.
A hollow ache started in her chest. Suddenly she was cold, so very cold.
Then, as she looked out over the rolling woodlands, she spotted smoke. She tried to use her cell phone to call the fire department, but the battery was dead.
Riley was playing somewhere out in the woods. She called his name, only to be answered by a fading echo. She yelled for Clay, but got no response.
She had to get her son to safety before the fire overtook the whole forest. Spinning around, her heart thundering in her chest, fear gripping her insides, she started for the stairs. When she looked down the long zigzag of steps, her head spun wildly, her eyes lost focus and she faltered. The distance between her and the ground seemed to grow.
The Road Home Page 29