Living Dangerously

by Dee J. Adams

  “What’s funny?” Al asked.

  “Life. Life is funny.” Carrie Ann glanced at him then back to the road. “You know how you expect it to be one thing and it turns into something else completely different?” She felt his gaze on her.

  “I do know that.” His tone empathized. “But sometimes it turns around and you get everything you want when you least expect it.”

  Carrie Ann doubted that, but maybe Al had a point. Sometimes life and timing worked to a person’s advantage. Personally, she had not experienced that phenomenon herself too often in the past decade or so. Julie certainly had both an abundance of good luck and timing, but it had yet to wear off on Carrie Ann.

  Chalk up another thing that infuriated Carrie Ann.

  “Where exactly in Massachusetts are we headed?”

  “Not sure.” She didn’t bother glancing at his wide-eyed stare. “I told you I’ll know more tomorrow after I talk to Julie. She’ll have the address for me then. I just want to be there by her birthday and if we don’t leave now, we might not make it.”

  “She is going to be so surprised.” He slapped a hand on his thigh and Carrie Ann laughed at his mood. Dweeb to the power of two.

  “I agree. This might be the most talked-about birthday of her life.” Carrie Ann forced a smile and imagined the surprise on her best friend’s face when it all went down.

  Chapter Twenty

  Julie heard the car on the gravel road from the master bathroom and ran a hand through her hair. The woman staring back at her in the mirror looked road weary and stressed. She couldn’t even pinpoint a reason for her nerves, but her palms sweated anyway. She limped out of the bedroom toward the den.

  Troy’s gaze lifted from his phone.

  “Do you want me to stay scarce?” she asked. She didn’t want to push an introduction with a family member if it made him uncomfortable. This whole meeting already seemed to be throwing him off center. After the amount of talking he’d done retelling the story of his mother’s death, he’d clammed up tight. It didn’t take an expert to see he’d bottled up everything having to do with his mother and childhood.

  He shook his head. “No. I’d like you to meet him.”

  She wanted to meet him too. Wanted to know as much about Troy as she could.

  A car door opened and closed, and a few seconds later, someone rapped on the door. Troy blew out a breath. When he opened the screen, Julie felt as if she’d been blown forward in time. The man on the porch looked like Troy Mills twenty-five years in the future.

  Troy’s uncle’s dark hair sported gray patches at the temples, but his dark eyes were just as intense as his nephew’s. They had the same facial structure, the same physical structure. Tall, broad and healthy. No wonder the store clerk had recognized him.

  Zach Mills took a few seconds to look at his nephew before launching himself forward and wrapping him in a massive bear hug. Zach’s eyes closed tight and his lips compressed together in a straight line, and because Julie felt like an intruder on the private moment, she looked away from the emotion on the older man’s face. She didn’t move or disturb the reunion that so very clearly mattered to Troy’s uncle. Zach finally pulled away and a sad smile curved his lips.

  “You look good, son,” he said, his voice husky. “Real good.” He slapped Troy’s arm in a gesture that spoke of pride and honest love.

  “So do you,” Troy said, standing aside so his uncle could enter.

  Zach stared at Troy, his eyes glassy. “It’s good to hear your voice,” he muttered. Then he spotted her. His brows lifted, but he just smiled and came forward with his hand outstretched.

  “This is Julie,” Troy said as she shook Zach’s hand. “She’s a friend of mine.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Zach said. If he recognized her, he kept it to himself. His attention went right back to Troy. “You keeping my nephew out of trouble?” he asked.

  Nothing like a loaded question to kick off the conversation. “I’m doing the best I can,” she said with a quick nod of her head.

  “Notice anything different about the place?” Zach asked.

  Julie could see only his profile, but the unmistakable pleasure in his voice accompanied a load of pride.

  Troy smiled and nodded. “A few things.” He gestured toward the sofa. “Get comfortable. It’s your place.”

  Zach didn’t waste any time and he sat down. He looked between Troy and her, and she got the distinct impression that maybe she needed to let them have their privacy.

  “I’ll just go in the other room and let you guys catch up.” She turned to go.

  “Don’t.”

  She glanced at Troy, at the invitation in his eyes to stay. Maybe Zach wanted to be alone with his nephew, but Troy didn’t necessarily want that.

  Julie looked from Troy to Zach and back to Troy. “Are you sure? I just thought you’d want to talk to your uncle in private.”

  “There’s not much he can say that you don’t already know.” His gaze said it all. He’d opened himself up to her and that was something he didn’t do often. She knew it, just as she knew what she felt for him was a lot more than lust or a simple fling. He mattered to her and with this invitation, he showed she mattered to him too.

  But one look at Zach told a different story. “Uh, Troy, maybe we could have a few minutes alone.” He withdrew a small pink book from the big pocket of his denim shirt.

  Troy considered his uncle for a few seconds, but shook his head. “Julie can hear anything you have to tell me.”

  Zach looked at her, assessed her the way Troy had done on different occasions, and finally nodded his head. “Okay, then.”

  * * *

  Troy watched Zach fiddle with the book in his hand. It looked like a diary with yellowing pages between pink covers. His uncle’s scrutiny made him uncomfortably aware of the time that had passed since they’d last seen each other.

  In all the years he’d been gone, he’d never made contact with his uncle. It would have been suicide to try while still living with his father, and once he’d moved away from dear old dad, he’d still never made the effort. Maybe a part of him felt betrayed by his uncle for never coming to save him.

  Julie took a seat next to him on the sofa, offering much-needed support. Watching his uncle, Troy felt a sudden flash of foreboding in his gut that didn’t make any sense. It sat there anyway, winding around his intestines like a venomous snake.

  “I was starting to think I might not ever see you again,” Zach finally admitted quietly. A grim smile curved his lips. “I thought maybe my brother had...”

  Troy waited for the rest of the sentence and glanced at Julie as she also waited. Her sharp eyes watched every move Zach made.

  Zach shook his head and met Troy’s gaze. “I should’ve done more to keep you here, but at the time, I didn’t...I didn’t know how to do it.” He turned the book over in his hands and stared at it. “Your dad and I were never that close. He wasn’t the easiest man to get along with, but when he married your mom...” Zach paused and considered something, “...when he married your mom, he seemed happy. At least for a little while.”

  A very little while, Troy wanted to say, but kept his mouth shut.

  “I knew something snapped when she died, but I didn’t think he’d leave and never come back.” Zach closed his eyes and sighed before he leveled his gaze on Troy. “He hit you and your mother, didn’t he?”

  The question shocked Troy, not only because of the directness, but because his uncle hadn’t been too inclined to step in and help over twenty-five years ago, but now he seemed all about diving into the family can of worms. Nevertheless, Troy nodded, his gaze steady as questions popped up in his head. His mother had protected him and taken the brunt of his father’s anger, but when she died, he’d become the new punching bag.

  “Can you tell me what happened the night your mom died?” Zach asked.

  Troy glanced at Julie, at her furrowed brows. He hadn’t told her the rest of the story, the part where he
’d clammed up and not spoken to anybody for months after her death. A handful of adults and school specialists had tried to get him to talk and he hadn’t uttered a word. They’d decided that the trauma of losing his mother had shocked him silent when actually he’d been terrified that if he said one word, it would all come out and his father would make him disappear too.

  An owl hooted outside and Troy took a deep breath. He told Zach the same story he’d just told Julie, and his stomach never failed to flip as he relived the moment of seeing his mother at the bottom of the stairs, her neck broken, her body lifeless. His world had practically ended in that moment. At least it had for the next nine years.

  “When did you start talking again?” Zach asked.

  Julie’s eyes widened as if a small puzzle piece had clicked into place.

  “A few months later,” Troy admitted. When he’d been in a new city, and his father had grown tired of the silent treatment and beat it out of him with more than his hand. Troy had started talking again, but only enough to avoid his father’s belt.

  Julie’s fingers crept into his palm and she squeezed. Her support, the gesture, filled him with a huge sense of peace. He looked at their linked hands, then at her, and in that moment his feelings for her hit him square in the chest. His love for her wasn’t some fantasy born out of her stardom. His love for her stemmed from her heart, her passion and her ability to care for others. She was a strong, independent woman who knew what she wanted and went after it without hesitation. She was a real woman with a strong work ethic and solid priorities.

  Zach shook his head, ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Troy. Sorry I didn’t get more involved. Sorry I let your dad take you away from here. From your home. I was in my own world back then.”

  “Aunt Celia had died just a couple weeks before Mom, right?” Troy asked.

  Nodding, Zach met his gaze. “Yeah. I think that’s what started the whole string of events.”

  String of events? Those kinds of words made a private investigator take notice. “What string of events?” Troy asked.

  Zach looked at the diary in his hands and clenched his jaw. He seemed to have a hard time figuring out what he wanted to say.

  Questions popped up in quick succession. What did his uncle really want to talk about? What did the diary in his hands have to do with anything? What had him so nervous?

  Zach finally looked him in the eye. “I found this when we were cleaning out my parents’ house to sell about ten years ago.” Troy’s grandparents had died before he was born and he’d lived in their house with his mom and dad until the day they’d moved. “I tried to find you, but I had no idea where your dad ended up and no clues as to where you might be.”

  The irony wasn’t lost on Troy. He found people for a living and here he was, a missing person to his own relative. He dared not ask if Zach ever hired a private investigator, and he couldn’t really confess to being one in this exact moment with Julie sitting next to him.

  “Anyway,” Zach continued, “I found this. It was your mother’s. There are gaps of months, but it’s all here. Everything you should know. Everything you need to know.”

  Troy’s curiosity peaked. As a P.I., he was naturally curious, but the fact that this had something to do with his mother had his palms itching to read that little book.

  “From the time your mom was in high school to a few days before she...before she died.” He had trouble getting out those last words, but Troy didn’t blame him. It had been a huge shock for all of them.

  Zach handed over the book. “What you need to know is that if I’d known, life would’ve been a hell of a lot different.” He shook his head, sadness and regret apparent in his dark gaze. “I didn’t know. Maybe I should’ve, but I didn’t.”

  This buildup set Troy more on edge, more worried about the information hidden in his mother’s diary. He took the book, soft and worn from age and use. How many times had he entered a room as she wrote in it? How many times had she smiled at him, closed the book and put it aside to talk to him or fix him something to eat? But she also hid it every night before his father got home. Sometimes she tucked it under the mattress or in the very back of her lower nightstand drawer. Troy hadn’t thought too much about it at the time because he hid things too. Things he didn’t want his father to see. Like the candy the store clerk used to sneak him when he went shopping with his mother or the five-dollar bill he found at the playground. So, yes, he understood his mother’s need for secrets. They never knew what might set off his dad, so they kept to themselves and were thankful when a day went by without him getting angry and forcing his mom to bear the brunt of that anger. She’d been his savior, his salvation from his father and when she died, he hadn’t had anybody to protect him.

  Troy turned the book over in his hands. It seemed so small now. Maybe its value, its size, had been in the way his mother had treated it. “It’s still in good shape.” Troy felt the need to say something.

  “I’ve kept it for you.” A sad smile curved Zach’s lips. “I was hoping one day I’d get to give it to you. It’s rightfully yours.” Zach stood and Troy followed. Julie got up too, but a little bit slower. He could tell her leg was still sore. “Look I’m going to go...give you a chance to read it in your own time.” He walked to the door and opened it, but turned before leaving. “How long will you be in town? I’d like to spend some time with you...after you read that.” He gestured to the diary.

  “We’ll be here for four or five days. If that’s okay.” Troy hadn’t planned on even seeing his uncle so the fact that he’d been caught—so to speak—threw some guilt on his shoulders.

  “I told you a long time ago this place was yours. I’m sorry it’s been so long, but I’m glad you finally made your way home.” Zach glanced at Julie and nodded before closing the door behind him.

  Troy stood there holding the pink diary in his hand while curiosity and apprehension mingled in his chest and created a roller coaster in his intestines.

  “Seems like it’s pretty important,” Julie said.

  “Yeah.”

  When he didn’t say anything else, she continued, “So, maybe I’ll keep working on this character, Elizabeth, and let you get to that.” She turned to go, but Troy felt an odd sense of comfort with her around and didn’t want to be alone.

  “Can you do it in here? With me?” Yeah, he liked her company. A lot. “I don’t want to be alone.” He’d been alone most of his life and he’d been fine, but lately, being with Julie, made it harder and harder to consider being without her.

  She studied him for a few long seconds, her face serious, and she finally nodded. “Yeah, I just need to get my books. I’ll be right back.” She limped into the bedroom and came back a minute later with her arms full. She sat in the corner of the sofa and got situated. Troy took the spot next to her, glad to have her presence with something so important in his hands.

  Part of him felt guilty for intruding on his mother’s most private thoughts, and Troy had a good sense of what might be in these pages because he’d lived with the same fear and pain as she had. Though the boy in him didn’t want to relive any of that life, the detective, the man that wanted answers and solved puzzles, had to know the truth.

  The owl hooted again outside and the sound seemed like a warning.

  Troy intended to start at the beginning, he really did, but the book appeared to open itself to a spot closer to the middle. One sentence jumped out at him from the top of the page. It made his heart skip, his breath stop. It changed his life forever.

  ...if he finds out about Troy’s real father.

  A wave of chills lifted the hair on his neck.

  * * *

  Julie couldn’t help but notice Troy’s reaction to something in the diary. He froze. His eyes widened, then narrowed as he scanned the page. Then he flipped back a page looking for something before he flipped forward again, his expression even more dark and serious than usual.

  It was the shock in his eyes that cut
straight to her heart. Knowing that something upset him made her ache. But he didn’t say anything and she didn’t want to pry. It was personal. She wouldn’t grill him even though that’s exactly what she was dying to do.

  He moved off the sofa, concentrated on the words in the book, obviously scanning then going back through the same few pages. Forward and back. Finally he went to the beginning and started reading, his back to her as he stood at the slider doors, as if the smallest thing might have him running for his life.

  What was she supposed to do? Pretend as if she didn’t know something was terribly wrong? Concentrating on researching her character was a joke. But still, Troy didn’t move. Not for more than ten minutes. Finally, he took a seat at the table in the dining area off the kitchen.

  Julie kept her eyes on the cross-cultural psychology book, but the words didn’t register as she debated what to do. She forced herself to read the text. It took fifteen minutes to read the first page, which consisted of only three paragraphs. Battling the urge to close the book and ask Troy questions, she continued with her research. An hour and a half later, when she finished for the night, Troy was still buried in his mother’s diary, the same dark expression on his face. It was late. Nearly ten and they hadn’t eaten so Julie went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Cooking had never been her strong suit, but she felt obligated to make something. It wasn’t as if she could call for a pizza in this small town.

  Though it was summer, the temperature had dropped and the air had cooled significantly, so Julie picked something easy and appropriate for the mood. Grilled cheese and canned soup. It took only a few minutes to get everything ready. She took it all to the table.

  “I thought you might be ready for something to eat,” she said pouring him a glass of water from a pitcher she’d found in the kitchen.

  He barely glanced up. “Yeah, thanks.”

  Okay. Well, she was starving, so she wolfed down her soup and sandwich in minutes, and when Troy had still made no move to eat she got up, rinsed her dishes and stuck them in the dishwasher. It didn’t take a genius to see where the rest of the night was headed. She couldn’t really turn on the TV because she didn’t want to disturb him. Maybe she should just turn in. She was tired.