by Metsy Hingle
“Of course,” she told him, hurt beyond words that he could walk away from her so easily. “I’ll get him for you.”
And while she stood back and watched Michael steal both her son’s and Gertie’s hearts, her own heart ached because she loved him, and she knew the stubborn man loved her. It also infuriated her that he could throw what they had away because he was suffering a mountain of guilt.
Lily looked at him, realized he was about to walk out that door and out of her life. She’d made so many mistakes in her life already because she’d been fearful of the outcome. She didn’t want to make another one now for the same reason. If Michael rejected her, at least she would have the satisfaction of knowing she’d tried. Letting him walk out the door without telling him what was in her heart was a mistake she refused to make. If there was any chance for them to be together, she had to know. She drew in a breath. “Gertie, would you take Timmy into the kitchen for some cookies and milk. I’d like to talk to Michael a moment before he goes.”
“Come along, Timmy,” Gertie said.
“Michael, what about us?” she asked once Gertie and Timmy had left the room. “I love you. And last night you told me that you loved me. Was it the truth? Or did you just say that so I wouldn’t feel like a fool when I found out you were the one who told Adam where I was?”
His mouth tightened. “I never did tell him. But he figured it out.”
“You never answered my question. Was the part about loving me a lie?”
“No, I do love you,” he said, practically spitting out the words.
They were a soothing balm to her heart. “Then why are you leaving me?”
“Jesus, Lily! How can you ask me that?” He limped over to the window, turned back. “Look at what I’ve done. A man is supposed to protect the people he loves. Instead of protecting you, I nearly got you and Timmy killed.”
“But you didn’t,” she pointed out. She went to him, cupped his face in her hands. “I’m fine, Michael. We’re fine. And I love you. So does my son.”
He turned his face away. “I don’t deserve your love or his. You’re both better off without me.”
“And what about you? Are you better off without us?”
“That doesn’t matter. I want the best for you and Timmy. And, trust me, I’m not it. I’m not even close.”
Hurt and growing angrier by the second over his stubbornness, she asked, “And what gives you the right to decide what’s best for me? I’ve spent the last seven years of my life with a man who decided what I wore, what I ate, what I was supposed to think. Do you honestly think I would settle for that again?”
He narrowed his eyes. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it? You have this idea that I need someone to take care of me, to rescue me when I get in trouble. Well, I don’t. I can take care of myself and Timmy. And I don’t need anyone to rescue me. I can rescue myself.” She drew a breath, decided to lay it on the line. “I want a partner, Michael. Someone I can share things with. Someone who can share things with me. I want a man who will love me for who I am and forgive me for my mistakes. The same way that I’ll love him for who he is and forgive him for his mistakes. I want you, Michael.”
“You deserve better, Lily. I’ve made enough mistakes. I’m not going to make an even bigger one by staying around and screwing up your life.”
Lily realized in that moment that she’d lost. “So you’re going to run away again?” she tossed at his retreating back.
“I’m moving on with my life. The same way you should move on with yours.”
“Lie to yourself, Michael, but don’t lie to me,” Lily told him. She pressed a fist to her breast to ease the ache in her heart. “You’re running away—again—the same way you ran away from your career as a policeman, the same way you ran away from your family. And while you might want to think you’re doing it for us, you’re not. You’re doing it to punish yourself for not living up to this superhero image you have in your head of what you think you should be.”
“Goodbye, Lily,” he told her, and opened the door.
She followed him out onto the porch and blinked back tears, determined not to cry—at least not in front of him. “Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said?”
“I heard every word.”
“And you’re still determined to leave.”
“It’s for the best.” He kissed her gently on the lips and stepped back.
The tears began to fall. “Go ahead, run away then,” she said, sobbing. “But I’ve got news for you, you’ll never be able to run far enough, because the person you’re really running from is yourself.”
Michael looked down at the letter he’d been struggling to write to Timmy for the better part of an hour. He read the “Hi Cowboy—How are you doing?” but the rest of the page remained blank. Sighing, he left the letter—or what there was of it—on the table in his parents’ den and walked over to the window.
He looked out at the familiar surroundings, the place where he’d grown up. Home. He still wasn’t sure what had made him change his destination from Florida to Texas that day when he’d left Lily’s and gone to the airport. He’d only known that he hadn’t been able to get the things she’d accused him of out of his head. And when he’d gone up to the ticket counter at the airport to check in, he’d booked a flight to Houston and come home. It felt good to be home, he admitted. It felt good to heal the wounds he’d caused to his family and himself five years ago.
So why did he still feel so miserable?
Because of Lily, he admitted. He still couldn’t erase the image of her from his mind.
He stared out at his mother’s garden. The trees were thick with leaves of green already, and he spied a bird’s nest at the top of an oak. Spring was almost here, he thought. And as he stared at the flowers, he remembered that first day he’d gone to Lily’s house and had seen her and Timmy planting a garden in that tiny strip of a backyard.
Would her flowers be blooming now? he wondered.
He missed them both so much it was making him crazy.
So what are you waiting for? Why haven’t you gone back?
“Hey, Mike,” his brother said, sticking his head in the den.
“Hey,” Michael said, glad for the distraction.
“Writing a letter?” Travis asked as he came into the room, plopped onto the couch.
“Trying. I’m not having much luck.”
“You wouldn’t happen to be writing to Lily, would you?” Travis asked nonchalantly, but Michael knew there wasn’t anything nonchalant about the question.
“To Timmy. I promised him I’d write.”
“Cute kid,” Travis said. “And his mom’s not bad, either.”
Michael scowled at him. “You going somewhere with this, bro?”
“Just making conversation. Mom said to tell you dinner’s ready,” Travis said as he pushed up from the couch. He paused at the door. “And in case you’re interested, I saw Lily this week when I was in New Orleans doing some follow-up on the Webster case.”
“How is she?” Michael asked, unable to stop himself. He knew he’d done the right thing by walking out of her life. He had meant every word he’d said about her deserving someone better. But damned if it had helped make it any easier for him to stop thinking about her, missing her, wanting her.
“She’s good. She’s working at the diner again. At least for now.”
Michael’s head snapped up at that. “What do you mean, at least for now?”
“Well, I got the impression she was thinking about moving away. She said something about maybe moving southwest, maybe Texas.”
“Don’t try playing matchmaker, Trav. You’re no good at it.”
“Hey, Texas is a big state. Besides, I’m just telling you what the lady said. She claims that boy of hers has really taken a liking to cowboys. Naturally, when people think of cowboys, they think of Texas.”
Michael thought of Timmy, felt that warmth inside him again as he remembered
the little boy hugging him and saying he loved him. “They’d do well out here.”
“That’s what I told her,” Travis said. “I also told her if she decided to come out this way that some man was going to scoop her up and marry her, because most Texans aren’t as dumb as my brother.”
Michael pitched the pen at him, which Travis caught easily.
“Why the woman wants someone as mule-headed as you when she could have me, I’ll never know. But she loves you, Mike,” Travis said, all serious now. “She’s a special lady and she’s been through a lot. She’s not going to wait forever for you.”
“I don’t want her to. That’s why I left. So that she would move on with her life.”
“And what about you, Mike? When are you going to move on? When are you going to stop beating yourself up whenever you make a mistake? You keep cutting people out of your life every time you mess up because you’re afraid of hurting them, and pretty soon you’re going to be all alone.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” he argued.
“Isn’t it? You’ve got this thing about trying to fix things for the people you care about. You did it with me when we were kids. You sure as hell did it with Pete. I grew up and learned to clean up my own mistakes, but Pete never did. He depended on you to do it for him. And, of course, you always came through. Until that last time. That last time, when he really screwed up and got himself killed, you weren’t able to clean up his mess. So you took on Pete’s failure as your own failure—as your mistake. It wasn’t,” Travis told him. “It was Pete’s mistake. And when you tried to cover for him and that backfired, you punished yourself by cutting everyone out of your life.”
“I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. You shut me out, Dad, Mom. You quit a job you loved. You even gave up thoughts about going into the Bureau.”
“I had to look out for Janie and the boys,” he defended.
“No, you felt guilty because you couldn’t save Pete from himself. Helping Janie and the boys wasn’t for them. It was for you. It was a way to remind yourself that you weren’t the superhero you thought you should be. And that’s why you walked away from Lily. You’re punishing yourself because you weren’t the one to save her. She saved herself. And the sad part about that is by cutting her out of your life you’re not only punishing yourself, you’re hurting her. The same way you hurt Dad when you walked away from here five years ago. Lily’s had enough hurt to last a lifetime. She doesn’t deserve to be hurt again.”
Was that what he had done? Michael wondered. Had he really been so intent on punishing himself for what he saw as his failures that he was hurting the people he loved?
“You better come on, Mom’s got dinner on the table,” Travis told him and exited the room.
Michael looked at the letter he’d been writing to Timmy, balled it up and put it into the trash.
“Mikey!”
At his father’s shout, Michael hustled into the kitchen. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said as he took his seat at the table.
His mother beamed at him. “You don’t know how nice it is to have both of my babies here at the dinner table again,” Katherine Sullivan said.
“Katie, your babies are grown men now,” Big Mike pointed out.
“I know, but they’ll always be my babies.”
Michael smiled and served himself up some of the mouthwatering corn bread.
“I understand from Finney that you were in the department this week,” Big Mike told him.
Michael looked up at his father. “Still got your spies at H.P.D., I see,” he joked.
“Michael Patrick Sullivan, tell me you haven’t been spying on the boy.”
“Now, Katie, don’t go getting all worked up. I just happened to see Finney for coffee this morning, and he mentioned he’d seen Mikey in the new police chief’s office.” He slanted a glance at his son. “Pass me some of your mama’s corn bread.”
Michael winced at the childhood name Mikey and passed his father the bread basket. He hadn’t said anything to his family as yet about the offer he’d been made to come back to the department.
“So you thinking about going back to being a copper?” Big Mike asked casually as he buttered his bread and took a bite.
Travis looked up from the meal he’d been inhaling and said, “Don’t count on it, Pop. He was also talking to the Bureau.”
“That true?” his father asked.
“I’m weighing my options,” Michael said.
“Well, I suspect it all hinges on what Lily says,” Travis said, and dodged when Michael tried to kick him beneath the table.
“Lily?” Katherine Sullivan said, her eyes bright and alert. “Isn’t that the woman with the little boy on that case your father and brother helped you with in New Orleans?”
Travis started to open his mouth, but stuffed another piece of corn bread into it instead when Michael shot him a silencing look.
“Yes.”
“So is she the girl you came home to brood about?”
“I didn’t come home to brood.”
His mother patted his hand. “Yes, you did. But it’s okay. Now, why don’t you tell me all about her.”
Michael told his mother all about Lily and Timmy. And when he’d finished, she was beaming. “She sounds wonderful.”
“She is,” Travis said. “Just wait until you meet her.”
“And when is that going to be?” his mother asked Michael.
“Just as soon as I can talk her into marrying me.”
“Lily,” Gina called out, sticking her head inside the door leading to the kitchen. “Hon, you got a customer.”
Lily groaned. Her feet were killing her. The day had been a killer, and she’d been just about to sign out and go home. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into taking care of the table for me, could I?”
“Honey, believe me, this is one you want to handle yourself.”
Lily looked up. There was something in Gina’s tone, and that mischievous look in her eyes, that Lily didn’t quite trust. Since Michael had left she’d been moping so much that Gina and Nancy Lee had made a campaign out of cheering her up. Of course, their answer to everything was a new romance. And they had gone out of their way to steer every halfway nice guy that came into the diner to her table. “All right, who is this one?”
“Who is what one?” Gina asked innocently.
“I mean, is this another truck driver or oilman? Or maybe he’s another banker. Wait, you haven’t shoved any stockbrokers at me this week.” She sighed. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but the guy could be the king of England and I wouldn’t be interested.”
“Hon, all I’m telling you is that you’ve got a customer at your table. You don’t want to wait on him…well, Nancy Lee won’t like it,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder. “I’ll just tell him to come back tomorrow.”
“All right,” Lily said. Scooping up her pad and pencil she went charging into the diner. Tired and cranky, she was halfway to the table by the window, when she faltered. Great, she thought, Nancy Lee was standing in front of the table talking to the man and blocking her view of him. Wondering if the guy was complaining about the slow service, Lily started to hurry over to get his order when she caught a glimpse of his feet. He was wearing cowboy boots. She sliced her gaze to the chair across from him and noted the cowboy hat.
“Good seeing you,” Nancy Lee said, and walked away.
Suddenly Lily’s heart began to swell with hope, with love, as she looked at Michael with the crossword puzzle and pencil in his hand. As though sensing her gaze, he looked up and gave her one of those knee-weakening smiles.
Clutching the pad to her chest, she approached his table. “Would you like to hear the specials?” she asked him, just as she had that first time.
“Sure,” he said, and she went through the list of the day’s specials and took his order. “How are you with puzzles?” he asked.
“Lousy,” she told him.
“This one’
s not too tough. How about giving it a try?”
“All right,” she told him.
“Okay. Here’s the clue. It’s a tough one. Two parts. The first one is a man’s name. He’s stubborn, thick-headed and he’s made a lot of mistakes and is probably going to make more in the future. His biggest mistake, though, was that he walked away from the woman he loves because he didn’t think he deserved her. The truth is that he loves her so much he can’t see straight, and more than anything, he wants a life with her. He wants to be her partner. And he wants her to be his partner. He wants her to allow him to be a father to her son. And he wants to make more babies with her.”
“And that’s the clue?”
“Yes, that’s the first part.”
“How many letters?” she teased.
“Seven.”
“Michael.”
“Right,” he said, grinning.
“Now here’s the really, really tough part. Will you marry me?”
“How many letters?”
“The right one—the one I’m hoping you’ll give me has three.”
Lily smiled at him, and taking her pad, she wrote out the word “y-e-s” and handed it to him. “How about this one?”
“It’s perfect,” Michael said, and pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-6380-5
BEHIND THE MASK
Copyright © 2002 by Metsy Hingle.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
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