by Gamet, Amy
“Let’s see if you understand after you watch this.” He held up the screen to face her, a black and white video beginning to roll. “This is the surveillance tape from the parking lot of the Super Duper. I just got it late last night.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly nervous. The grainy image was difficult to see, particularly on the tiny screen. A figure emerged from the shadows with what appeared to be a gas can, and began dousing the walls and foundation of the building.
“Ricky, I don’t know what you’re hoping to prove…” her voice trailed off as the figure came close to the camera, his baseball hat and 49ers jacket clearly visible in the frame.
“Liam’s a 49ers fan, isn’t he, Meghan?”
She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She was watching the figure on the screen, with a coat and hat just like her husband’s, move in a hauntingly familiar way.
“Is that his jacket? His hat?”
She should know. She had bought the matching set for his birthday last fall. She was constantly kidding him that they would be threadbare in no time if he wore them as often as he did.
Ricky was watching her. “That fire was on Friday. There was another one yesterday.”
Oh, God. “Where?” She felt sick.
“Liam’s parents’ house. It was burned to the ground.”
“Oh my, God. Was anyone hurt?”
He shook his head. “No, thank goodness. Chip and Lindsay weren't home.”
“What about the kids?”
He smiled without humor. “The kids are all grown up now, Meghan. You've been gone a long time.” He stared at her. “And I’ve missed you.”
“Don’t.” She held up her hand. “There was never anything between us, Ricky.”
He looked down at the phone in his hands. “I know you think I set Liam up, but I didn't.”
“You lied about seeing him on Main Street with a gas can.”
“You're right. I did. He wasn’t walking down Main Street with it, he was at the old mill with it.”
“Oh, bullshit, Ricky.”
He was quiet for a moment, just staring at her. “I followed you to the old mill that night.”
A wave of violation rolled through her abdomen. “You bastard.”
“I hid in the woods by the water. You were wearing a white shirt and a long pink skirt. Not what you'd worn to school that day.”
“How dare you?”
“I tried for years to get your attention, Meghan, but you only had eyes for Wheaton. It burned me up inside, to see you with him, to know what you were doing in there.”
He said it like it was dirty, and Meghan could feel her cheeks flaming hot. Her arms itched to scratch his face, hit him with her fists for invading her cherished memories. “You had no right.”
“After you left, I just sat there in the woods. I was devastated.” He swallowed, shaking his head. “Then Liam comes out of the mill, and I thought about hurting him. I remember I hated him for putting his hands on you. I hated him so much.”
Ricky took a deep breath. “He walked to his car and opened the trunk. He took out a red and gold gas can.”
The world tilted on its axis. Liam kept a red and gold gas can in the trunk of his truck to this day, a leftover from that first car with the broken gas gauge.
“And he goes back to the mill and starts pouring the gas all around it. I knew I should stop him, but I was scared of what he was doing, scared of what he would do to me if he knew I had seen him. So I ran,” he continued. “I ran as fast as I could back home. I didn’t even make it out of the park before I smelled the smoke.”
Meghan felt her faith in her husband wavering like a leaf on a tree, caught up in a storm she hadn't even seen coming.
Liam started those fires.
“The next morning, I told Sheriff McDonald I had seen Liam with the gas can.” He met her eyes. “But I didn't want to tell him about the old mill, or that you were there, too.”
~~~
2012
Liam was in a bad mood.
He climbed out of the cab of his pickup truck and into the snow-filled air, slamming the door behind him. He should be halfway to Boston right now to bid on a job, but his father had phoned and told him to come over right away.
It was important, he said.
Important to Chip Wheaton could mean he had another run-in with the sheriff, and it had come to blows like last time. Or it could mean he was sitting in a corner of his bedroom, terrified that if he walked out into the kitchen where his keys were, he'd climb in the car and go buy a beer or three bottles of whiskey.
Liam strode up the walkway of the tired old duplex, wondering what level of hell awaited him beyond the front door. Chip had been sober for almost three years, but Liam was weary from trying to keep it that way. Most days, Liam worked harder at keeping Chip sober than Chip did.
When Liam got out of jail, the townspeople who once found him so pleasant at the Super Duper were now afraid to have him stand next to them in line. No one would hire him in sales, despite his experience, but he had strong hands and an able body that no one could take away.
His mother died from pancreatic cancer just two weeks before his release from prison. A grieving Liam used his share of her meager life insurance policy to start his own landscaping business, caring for the lawns of Largo's most prestigious citizens while they locked their doors and huddled inside.
He stepped up to the right-hand unit and rapped soundly on the door, before letting himself in.
Meghan was sitting on the couch.
Holy shit.
Liam strode toward her purposefully and she stood, raising her hands defensively. Anger warred with grief and longing as he stared at her.
Here was the woman who had ruled his thoughts, stolen away his heart, his love, and his child. His nostrils flared as his breathing came in quick pants and his eyes scanned the apartment for Fiona.
Meghan looked panicked.
She should be scared. I'm going to kill her.
Blood surged into his loins, his body remembering this love, even as his mind fought the sensations. “Where's Fiona?” he said, barely recognizing his voice for the emotion it held.
She raised her chin. “She's not here.”
He turned and threw his fist into the wall beside him, seeing Meghan jump as he released the energy that was surging through his body, breaking through the drywall. “Where is she?” he yelled.
“Someplace safe.”
He rounded on her, coming to stand just inches from her body, his own responding with a desperate plea that he pushed away with his mind. “How dare you imply she's not safe with me? I'm her father, damn it. You know I would never hurt her.”
“You're also a convicted felon.”
He smiled, a dark light in his eye. “Well hell, that must mean I'm guilty.” He walked several feet away, then back toward her like a lion. “I want to see my daughter, Meghan. You can't keep her from me.”
“I know,” she said quietly.
She was so close he could smell her familiar scent, and it was doing things to him he didn't want done. His very soul thrilled at her presence even as he hated her more than he had ever hated another human being.
His hand reached up to her face of its own accord, touching her cheek and raising her chin until her eyes found his own. “How could you do it, Meghan? Huh? How could you take her away from me like that?” He felt her chin quiver beneath his fingers. “Didn't you know what it would do to me?”
She pulled away from him. “You lied to me. Coming here instead of working, setting fires, Liam.” Her eyes pulled at him. “I was afraid of you. I was afraid for Fiona.”
He stepped too close to her, pushing the limit of what she would allow. His muscled chest brushed against her breasts, his breath grazed her lips. “Are you afraid of me now, Meghan?”
Her eyes were dilated, her lids just a touch too heavy. He knew that look, had seen it hundreds of times on his wife’s face, and it sure as hell
wasn't fear.
“I was scared of who you had become,” she whispered.
He stepped away from her.
If she really had been afraid of him, he was glad he hadn’t been around to see it. Liam had seen fear on many faces in his years, first as a good-for-nothing Wheaton, unworthy of simply courtesy or love, then as an arsonist, a convict, a criminal.
But he had never seen that look on his Meghan's face, the only person who ever mattered, the woman who had seen his inside his very soul and found him worthy.
“If you're so scared of me, why the hell are you here?”
She looked at the doorway to the kitchen. “I came to talk to your parents.”
He shrugged. “Mom’s dead. But I get it—you didn’t come to see me.” He saw her cringe at his careless words. He cracked his knuckles to keep from putting another hole in the wall, took a deep breath. “Why did you want to see my parents?”
She swallowed, her eyes anguished and her chin puckered. “Fiona's sick, Liam.”
He scowled, concern rising up within him. “What's wrong with her?”
“She has Leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant. I came back to Largo to find her a donor.”
~~~
Meghan walked to the front window, looking at the overcast winter's day from Chip Wheaton’s dark living room. She had underestimated Liam’s pain. She didn't consider herself to be a cruel person, but seeing him like this, she understood the hatred she felt emanating from him like heat from the sun.
She was a coward, keeping her back to him now. She didn't want to share in his grief, didn't want to feel responsible for it.
“I'll give her my marrow,” he said, his voice wavering.
“There's only a one in two hundred chance that you’ll be a match. I already tried.”
“Before you came back here, of course.”
“Yes.”
“My God. You weren't even going to tell me, were you?” He closed the distance between them, grabbing her by the shoulder and turning her around. “If you’d been a match, you wouldn’t have come back here at all.”
She shook her head, her pulse racing from his nearness. She looked at his tortured face and wanted to cry, too.
No, Meghan, don't feel bad. He's the one who lied to you. He's the one who broke the law, who snuck away to destroy other people's property, who sought vengeance on those who had belittled him.
A chill ran up her spine, remembering the fear that had made her pack up their little girl and run away. The Liam she loved was just one side of his personality, a figment of her imagination.
If that Wheaton boy is there, you ignore him. Not a word.
She should have listened to her mother.
“Your family has as similar chance of matching Fiona as you do. Your sister and brothers, cousins. It’s still not likely.”
“Who would be a good match, then?”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. “A full sibling would be her best chance. A one-in-four possibility of a full match.” She felt her cheeks heat at the suggestion, and was grateful when he ignored it.
“What about your family?” he asked, his lips forming a tight line as he realized. “Of course. You tried them already, and they didn't match.”
She nodded, taking a step back from him. “You have a bigger family, and we both have Irish roots. There might be someone.”
“We'll try. I’ll ask everyone in my family to be tested. On one condition.”
She'd been expecting it, waiting for it. It was the price of poker, and Meghan had come to play.
“You let me see Fiona.”
She nodded.
“And not just for a minute. You bring her here, and you let me be a part of her life again, Meghan. Forever.”
If he was going to be part of Fiona's life forever, then he would be part of hers, as well. She shook her head. “We live far away, Liam, it's not feasible...”
He closed the distance between them, speaking with an eerie calmness. “I could have you arrested for kidnapping, Meghan. I can take her away from you in a heartbeat.”
She raised her chin. “You're a felon.”
“What do you think kidnapping is? A misdemeanor?”
An eye for an eye.
Meghan was frozen in place, her eyes screaming into his. Could he really take Fiona? Legally? She had come back here to save her daughter's life, but it could cost her the very daughter she was trying to save.
When she spoke, her voice was small and plaintive. “Liam, please...” she begged, leaning toward him as tears suddenly threatened. She saw the slightest softening in his eyes, a kindness, a caring she hadn't seen there since he walked through the door. His hand touched her face again, feather-light, and he leaned toward her.
Her body remembered him, and her back arched in anticipation of his kiss, his lips finding hers and taking her swiftly. She wanted it. She wanted it so badly.
She had been so alone.
Not one single date in the eight years without him, no desire for a man besides this one. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her to him, and she reveled in the feel of his body pressed to hers. She knew his touch and his desire better than her own, moaning in his arms, his name escaping her lips on a rush of air.
He pulled away from her, abruptly letting her go and taking a step back. He swiped the back of his hands across his lips as if trying to clean her off his lips.
“Go get my daughter, Meghan. Once I see her, you can test anyone you like.” He turned on his heel and walked out the door, getting into his truck and driving away.
~~~
“Pass me the garlic,” said Becky, holding her hand open for the bulb that Meghan handed her.
The women were making their grandmother’s lasagna, a recipe they had each been taught some ten years apart. It was a family tradition, though the old Irish woman’s cuisine could hardly be called authentic Italian.
“Do you remember how Grandma used to fall asleep half-way through a sentence?” asked Meghan. “You’d turn around, and she’d be snoring with her head on her chest. That used to creep me out.”
Becky elbowed her in the arm. “Remember how she used to fart and blame it on the dog?”
“That was her?”
“Oh, hell yes, that was her.”
Meghan laughed so hard she snorted, which got Becky laughing, too.
The women took turns layering the meat, cheese and pasta in a baking dish. “Your hands look just like mine,” said Becky.
“Except for the purple nail polish,” said Meghan.
Becky felt tears begin to well in her eyes. “Do you have any idea how much I missed you, Meggie? You were my best friend, then you were gone.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know.”
Meghan picked up a towel and wiped her hands. “Why don’t you tell me.”
Becky swallowed, looking at the ceiling. “Everything changed when you left. Mom was destroyed. I don’t think she even saw me anymore. I kept trying to get her attention, but it was no use. For a while, Dad was crying all the time, then he just shut down. Neither of them mentioned your name at all anymore.”
“I’m so sorry, Becky.”
“But you know what the worst part was? I missed you. I missed you every moment of every day for years and years.” She looked down at her hands, twisting a silver ring. “I was closer to you than I was to anybody, and you just left me behind like I didn’t even matter to you.”
“Oh, no, no,” said Meghan, reaching out and embracing her sister. “You mattered to me, Becky, more than you know.” She pulled back to look into her sister’s eyes. “I used to pretend I was your real mother, do you know that?”
“So how could you just leave?”
“Because I became an actual mother, to Fiona. I had to take care of her before I took care of anyone else. And that meant staying with Liam.”
Becky wiped at her eyes. “I guess I knew that.”
“It doesn’t make it any easier.�
�
“No. But I’m glad you’re here, now.”
“Me, too.”
Becky reached into the ricotta with her finger, popping a dollop into her mouth.
Meghan glared at her. “Eeew.”
“What? My hands are clean.”
A devilish grin spread across Meghan’s face. “Do you remember the time Grandma caught you sneaking whipped cream from the top of the chocolate cream pie?”
“Of course I do. She threw a whole glob of it right in my face.” Realization dawned, and her eyes went wide. “Don’t you dare!”
Meghan smiled devilishly as she scooped out a handful and whipped it at her sister.
“Ah!” screamed Becky, reaching for the container of tomato sauce.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Meghan, raising her hands in front of her. “Enough,” she said firmly.
“Enough, my ass.” Becky laughed, dumping the sauce on her sister’s chest.
“You little punk!”
“Bring it on, sister!”
In just moments, the ingredients that had covered the counter were splattered all over the women’s faces, clothes and hair, the two of them laughing hysterically.
Becky sighed contentedly. “Looks like pizza for dinner.”
“Oh, well. Grandma’s lasagna sucked, anyway.”
Becky doubled over, laughing uncontrollably. “I’m going to pee my pants! I hate her lasagna, too!”
“It’s so good to be home, Monkey,” Meghan said, kissing her sister’s cheese-covered hair. “So good to be home.”
~~~
A light snow fell from the sky, making Meghan wonder if she should have checked the weather report before heading out to Rhea’s. Red lights flashed in her rearview mirror and she cursed, wondering what she had done to get pulled over. She stopped under a banner that read “Merry Christmas from the Largo Chamber of Commerce”.
“Do you know how fast you were going?” asked the officer.
Meghan turned to stare at him, seeing only a helmet and reflective glasses.
“About thirty-two?” said Meghan.
“Thirty-five. The speed limit is thirty.”
Are you kidding me?
She turned her head and rolled her eyes. She didn't have time for a small town police officer on a power trip.