Now You See Me

by Kris Fletcher

  “You ready to take another chance?”

  “Maybe.” She rose up on one elbow, gave him a smile that sent him stirring.

  “Wanna go away for a night together?”

  “I thought we spent the last two weeks doing that.”

  “I mean away away. Somewhere else.”

  Curiosity chased resistance across her face. “I don’t know... When could we do it? Ruth and Tish come home the night after tomorrow.”

  At least it wasn’t an outright refusal.

  “Here’s what I’m thinking. Don’t you have to go to Toronto Saturday to get Ben? That’s a four-hour drive each way, and you’ve had a hell of a week. You should probably drive part of the way the night before. Like, to Brockville.”

  “Okay.” Her words came slowly, as if she were thinking aloud. “That would make sense. Especially if, you know, I want to do some shopping or something before his closing ceremonies.”

  Yes!

  “We would have to take separate cars, though, unless you want to get a bus back Saturday morning.”

  He tried to hide the twinge of hurt. “Sure. I guess it might freak people to see us driving off into the sunset together.”

  “It’s not that, though Ruth... Well, I don’t want to hurt her. But Ben was pretty suspicious anyway, and if we both came to get him, he might...well, he might start thinking things. Get his hopes up.”

  Ben wasn’t the only one. But she was right. J.T. could handle risking his own heart. He wouldn’t do that to a kid.

  “So you think it would work?”

  She leaned over and brushed her lips lightly over his. “I think it’s an excellent idea. Especially if it means extra time with you.”

  He rolled her over and kissed her slowly, praying that this would do the trick—that this one extra night with Lyddie would be the next step to a lifetime.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  LYDDIE HAD PREPARED HERSELF to feel sadness on their last night at the cottage, had expected to feel unhappy when it came time to walk away that last morning. Even so, she hadn’t been ready for the fist to the gut that hit her when the time came.

  She wasn’t the only one. As she stood on the porch, fighting back tears she told herself she wouldn’t shed, J.T. stepped behind her and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her tight to his chest. She sagged against him. His touch proved to be the key that unlocked her resolve.

  “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.” She brushed at the tears, forced the words out past the damned lump in her throat. “I said I would go with a smile. But it’s not that easy.”

  Movement against her neck told her he was nodding. She had a feeling that words were playing hide-and-seek with him, too.

  She clutched his hands, rubbing the rough skin. “I’m so glad you suggested Friday night.”

  “Me, too, babe.”

  She sniffed and tried to laugh. “Nadine’s going to have a field day wondering why I’m showing up with red eyes this morning.”

  “I think she’ll figure it out. Especially when I park myself outside the door and howl like a sick dog.”

  At that she laughed for real, though it ended on a hitch that bore a very strong resemblance to a sob. “J.T.?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Thank you.”

  “God, Lyd. Do you have any idea how much I should be the one thanking you?”

  “Well, I’m glad I made it worth your while. But still, I...”

  This wasn’t right. She needed to face him. She turned in his arms and buried her head in his chest. “If you only knew what you’ve done for me....”

  His hand cupped her head, wove through her hair, pressed her closer. “Same here, babe. If you only knew.”

  * * *

  IF YOU ONLY KNEW...

  The words followed her through the day. At least she had the joy of Tish’s homecoming to help her through the first night alone. He didn’t even have that. Alone in her bed that night, staring at the ceiling by the glow of the Sleeping Beauty nightlight Tish had insisted on giving her, she let the tears come. She missed him. She missed curling against him. She missed waking up and rubbing her foot against his leg to reassure herself that he was there. She missed giggling in his arms, laughing so hard that if they had been standing, she would have fallen to the floor.

  If it was this bad after this preliminary farewell, how was she going to get through the real thing?

  Maybe she shouldn’t go away with him. Maybe she should end it now, clean and easy. What good would be served by another night, another goodbye?

  But she had promised him she would go. He’d asked so little of her in their time together. Surely she could do this for him, give him this one last night.

  But no more. They would go to Brockville, they would have a final memory and that would be the end of it. Finished. She’d done what she set out to do. The rest of the world might still look at her and see the brave little widow, but she knew who she was. She was a woman who could still take a chance, feel, astound herself. She was still alive.

  Ironic, then, that the next night, she found herself quaking in her boots as she told Ruth she’d be leaving Friday night to get Ben instead of Saturday morning, and that she wouldn’t be taking Tish along.

  “She’d be so bored. After all the driving she did from Florida, I can’t ask her to do that again.”

  Ruth pulled her old blue cardigan tighter, her mouth set in a thin, disapproving line. “Really, now.”

  “Really.” Lyddie dug her thumb into a pea pod she was shelling and split it down the middle. “I know I made it there and back in one day when I took him, but it really wore me out. I think this will be far more sensible.”

  “Sensible. That’s an interesting way to put it.”

  Oh, damn.

  “Tell me, Lydia. Are you at least going to take separate cars, or is the whole town going to see you heading out with him?”

  She could do this. She had propositioned J.T., lanced her own finger, walked into that cabin despite the fact that she hadn’t been that nervous since her first time in labor. She had done all that. She could sure as hell face down Ruth.

  “I’ll be leaving around five Friday night, Ruth. In my own car. I will pick up my son the next day, all by myself, and I will be back home with him that night. Anything else that happens or doesn’t happen is really only important to me.”

  “Lydia Brewster, I have to hold my head up in this town. Do you have any idea how I felt today when I walked into the post office and everyone stopped talking?”

  Lyddie ran her finger down the row of plump peas, popping them free one by one, sending them into the big yellow crockery bowl. “Well, now you know what Iris Delaney has been living all these years.”

  Ruth’s red cheeks were a clear indicator of anger, but thankfully she kept her voice low as she pushed the bowl to Lyddie.

  “And you think it’s just a coincidence that the same man is at the root of both of our heartaches?”

  “Good Lord, Ruth, you make it sound like he violated me against my will.”

  “You might think you made your own choices, Lydia, but you didn’t. Not really. That J.T., he can talk anyone into anything and make them think it was their own idea all along. He’s nothing but bad news and this town can’t be rid of him fast enough.”

  So many thoughts pushed at Lyddie’s brain, so many words hovered on her tongue. Maybe she should say them. Maybe she should spell it all out for Ruth.

  Or maybe she should try to dam the river single-handedly.

  “You’re wrong, Ruth. About a whole lot of things. But you know what? I don’t care. I know the truth, and that’s what matters.” She plucked another pod from the basket and stabbed her thumb into it. “Meanwhile, you are Tish’s grandmother and you love her and she loves you. Are you able to look after her while I’m gone, or shall I ask if she can have a sleepover at Millie’s?”

  “You would leave her with someone else?”

  “I don’t want to. I would mu
ch rather she stay here, in her own bed, with you. But if you are planning to spend the entire time I’m gone sighing about what a horrible person I’ve become, just because I want to move on with my life, well, I can’t see how that would be a good thing for my daughter to be hearing nonstop. You know?”

  The redness in Ruth’s cheeks faded to a dull burgundy. “Is that how it’s going to be, Lydia? You threatening to keep me from my own grandchildren, all because of that man?”

  “No, Ruth. I’m just spelling out the consequences so we both know exactly where we stand.” She rose from the table before she said anything worse. “And for the record, I’m not doing any of this for J.T. I’m doing it for me.”

  * * *

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Lyddie gave Steve McCoy his order, walked into the kitchen and waited. It didn’t take long.

  “Lyddie?” Nadine was about five seconds slower than Lyddie would have expected, but then, she’d been in the middle of drawing a coffee when Lyddie had done her disappearing act.

  “Lyddie, are my ears playing tricks on me, or did Steve ask you to go sailing with him on Sunday?”

  “He did.”

  “Holy doodle. You think life can’t get any more interesting, then bam. Here comes the blindsider.”

  “Tell me about it.” Lyddie peeled off her apron and tossed it in the corner. “So, you would know better than I do. Has someone been spiking the water or something around here? Because I’ve known Steve since before Glenn and I got married, and he never... I mean, he was wonderful to me after Glenn died, and he’s a great guy, but I... He... For heaven’s sake, Nadine, he hasn’t looked at anyone since his divorce was final. At least none that I know of.”

  “Nobody. You can trust me on that one.”

  “So why me, of all people?”

  Nadine turned away, fast, but not before Lyddie caught the glimpse of guilt on her face.

  And Lyddie got a clue.

  “Oh. Maybe the real question isn’t why me. Maybe I should be asking why now.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t expect you to.” Lyddie glanced at the clock. Just a few minutes until three. She had a little over an hour before she had to get Tish from day camp.

  “Any chance you could close up, Nadine? I have a hot date with some high school yearbooks.”

  “Lyddie, don’t—”

  “If you can’t do it, no problem. I’ll come in early tomorrow and get things set.”

  “Lydia—”

  She stopped in her flight toward the door. “Nadine. Were Steve and J.T. in the same year in high school?”

  “I told you—”

  “Yes, you did. You warned me. But I’m a big girl, Nadine, and someone I care about has spent too damned long being this town’s scapegoat. I’m not going to rock any boats, but I want to know the truth.”

  Nadine shook her head. “Lyddie—”

  “You know I’m going to figure this out. You can tell me what I want to know, or you can make me go home, drag out the yearbooks, get pissed off when I see the answer and probably be late getting Tish. So why don’t you give me a hand and—”

  “Steve and J.T. weren’t in the same year. Steve was a year ahead.”

  “Oh.” She felt oddly deflated. It had made so much sense...Steve and J.T. partying together after they graduated, the fire, Steve worrying that J.T. would spill his guts to her... Okay. So they didn’t graduate together. Then why the big—

  And then a hundred bits and pieces fell together.

  “If Steve was a year ahead of J.T., then he was in Glenn’s year. Which means the fire was the year after they graduated. Except...” Her mouth was suddenly so dry that she could scarcely form the words. “Except Ontario used to have grade thirteen. And J.T. told me he didn’t make it that far, that he left after grade twelve. So the graduation was—help me, Nadine. We didn’t have this in Winnipeg. Did they do one ceremony, or two?”

  “Things changed over the years, but back then, they all walked after grade twelve. If they stayed on for the extra year, they could walk again.”

  “So even though they were a year apart, Steve and J.T. graduated at the same time.”

  Nadine nodded. Lyddie reached for the sink to steady herself.

  “Which means Glenn did, too.”

  Nadine’s eyes closed. And all Lyddie could hear was outtakes from conversations. Not the words, but the pauses.

  J.T. refusing to name anyone who had been in the village with him that night.

  The way Glenn had never mentioned the fire, even when she’d asked him about it.

  J.T. telling her that most of the people who had been with him either lived in town still or had family there.

  Ruth’s continued insistence that J.T. could talk anyone into anything and make them think it was their own idea.

  Oh, dear God.

  “Glenn was there.”

  Lyddie waited for Nadine to shake her head, to wave away the suggestion, to tell Lyddie she was being a damned fool. But all she did was say, very quietly, “I wasn’t there, Lyddie. I don’t know.”

  But Lyddie did. She knew exactly what had happened.

  She had opened herself to J.T. Told him everything, about Glenn, about herself. Trusted him with the ugly parts of her that didn’t want to be on a pedestal, that didn’t want Glenn to be turned into something he wasn’t. She had told him all of that—

  And he lied to her.

  He had listened to her and kept his secret and patted her on the head and said nothing. Nothing. He kept it all from her because Glenn was a hero and she was the brave little widow who had to be shielded from the truth.

  He had been no different from the rest of them after all.

  * * *

  J.T. HALF WALKED, half jogged toward River Joe’s, his heart slamming, but not from exertion. The words of Lyddie’s text pounded through his brain in time with his feet.

  I need to talk to you NOW.

  His fast reply that he was on his way was met only with a terse Fine.

  Something was up. Jillian? She’d been riding his ass all week with calls and emails about how he owed the town the chance to bring in more opportunity. She might have pushed Lyddie to her breaking point, but somehow, he doubted it.

  He reached the coffee shop and yanked open the door, thankful that it wasn’t locked despite the Closed sign.

  “Lyd? Lyd, I’m here. What’s wrong?”

  “Over here.”

  Her voice came from the love seat by the fireplace, hidden in shadows that his eyes couldn’t pierce immediately on entering from the bright sunshine. Though when he drew closer, the carefully blank expression on her face scared him more than he would have thought possible.

  “What is it? Sara? Ben?”

  He reached for her hands. She looked up at him but kept her hands tightly knotted on her lap.

  Oh, shit.

  “The children are fine. Thank you for asking. I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

  “Okay. Then what the hell—”

  “Glenn was at the party that night.”

  If he’d walked into a fist in a dark alley, he still wouldn’t have been as stunned as he was by her words.

  “Lyd...babe, listen...”

  “No, J.T. You listen.” Her voice trembled but she shook her head, pinched her lips together and carried on, low and terrifying. “I trusted you. I told you more about myself than anyone else in this town would ever believe. I laid it all out for you, and in return, you deliberately concealed information from me that I had every right to know.”

  He wasn’t going to deny anything. What was the point? Everything she’d said was true.

  But maybe, if he could make her understand why...

  He dropped into the chair across from her, careful to sit far enough back that his knees didn’t brush hers. “Okay. Yes. Glenn was there.”

  She inhaled, short and sharp. “Why?” The word was a broken whisper, but she carried on. “After everything I t
old you, everything you knew I wanted...why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Oh, I just bet it is.” She leaned forward, eyes glittering. “Tell me anyway.”

  “I... God...” His tongue was too thick to form the words. “There were lots of reasons, okay? Different ones at different times. At first, I didn’t see any need. He’s not here to defend himself, nothing could be changed, so what was the point? And, yes, at that point, I was buying in to the widow thing. Because no matter what happened when we were kids, Glenn did deserve to be remembered. I didn’t know you the way I do now, and I thought, hell, you’d lost enough. What would be the point in taking away what little comfort you might have?”

  She sat silent for a minute and nodded. “I’ll give you that. But after? After I told you how I felt about the way he was being idolized, about the way people treated me? Why didn’t you speak up then?”

  “Lyddie, there’s a hell of a difference between telling stories about church group pranks and telling the truth about something that nearly killed this town.”

  “You didn’t think I could handle it.”

  “It wasn’t—”

  “It wasn’t like that? Fine. Maybe you weren’t being noble and protecting me. Maybe you were only thinking of all those other folks. But damn, J.T. I trusted you with all of me, with my secrets and my body, with my child, and you still couldn’t trust me with the truth?”

  “It had nothing to do with trust.”

  “Then what was it? What was so damned important that—”

  “I fell in love with you, okay?”

  The sudden whiteness in her face was his second sucker punch to the gut. She’d had no idea.

  She spoke very quietly. “That’s not possible.”

  “The hell it isn’t.” Damn it, if he was going to lose her anyway, he was going to make sure she knew the truth this time. “I couldn’t say anything about Glenn because I didn’t want you to think I was trying to—to drag him down, to make him look bad so I would look better. I wanted to do the right thing by him. Because I love you.”