The Lying Woods

by Ashley Elston

  “Who knows? But I don’t think I’ve ever seen your dad that mad in all the time I’ve known him.”

  “Thank you for being up front with me. And for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry that this has been hard on your business.”

  Mr. Blackwell stands up and reaches across the desk to shake my hand. “You’re in a tough spot, son. That’s your dad and I know it’s gotta be hard hearing all of this about him.”

  I shake his hand and nod. “Yes, sir. It’s been tough. Well, thanks for talking to me,” I say, then show myself out of his office.

  I’m pushing through the front door when I bump into the last person I expect to see in Lake Cane. William Cooper, Jack’s dad.

  “Mr. Cooper! What are you doing here?”

  Mr. Cooper shakes my hand while pulling me in close, slapping me on the back. “Owen, it’s good to see you.”

  He lets go and I step back. “Why are you here?”

  “Checking out some things. I’m sorry to hear you didn’t take me up on my offer to go back to Sutton’s. I know Jack misses you.”

  I nod but don’t want him to get away with changing the subject. “Thanks for your offer, but my mom needs me here. But I really am surprised to see you.”

  “Well, there are a few things here that need my attention.”

  I have no idea what that could be, but it has to involve Dad. He’s the only link Mr. Cooper has to Lake Cane.

  Mr. Cooper steps closer and puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been like a brother to Jack all these years. You know that, right?”

  “Yes, and I think of him like a brother, too,” I answer.

  “I’ve known your family a long time. Knew your grandfather when he was running the company and truthfully, I’m glad he’s not alive to see what’s happened to his business.”

  Mr. Cooper is more my grandfather’s age than my dad’s. Jack is a product of his third marriage and has siblings that are almost twenty years older than he is. The oil and gas company Mr. Cooper runs did business with my grandfather and then with my dad after he took over. Any wells Mr. Cooper’s company drilled in Central Louisiana, our company fracked them. That’s how my parents heard of Sutton’s, because Mr. Cooper was telling him that’s where Jack was going.

  He pulls me just a bit closer. “You haven’t heard from your dad, have you?”

  There’s something about the way he’s asking me this that makes me nervous.

  “No, sir. I haven’t.”

  If I tell anyone about the note, it would be Mom. Until I know who’s threatening her or what the note means, I’m not trusting anyone.

  “You’d tell me if you did, wouldn’t you?”

  I nod, then ask, “Did you know what he was doing?”

  His hand drops away from me and he cocks his head to the side. “If I knew what he was doing, that’d make me as bad as he is.”

  Then he pivots around and walks into Mr. Blackwell’s office.

  • • •

  It’s late when I get to Aunt Lucinda’s. Mom’s in the kitchen surrounded by cookbooks and there are pots and pans and every kind of utensil you can imagine scattered across the countertops.

  She gives me a frazzled smile when I drop down in one of the chairs at the table.

  “Long day?” she asks, then skims my face and clothes.

  Shaking trees is dirty work. Even though I’m inside the shaker, the dust and dirt seem to find me and cling to me.

  “Yeah. But it feels good, you know. I like looking down a row of trees and seeing exactly what I did today.”

  Mom smiles. “That’s how I feel when I cook. Feels wonderful knowing people enjoyed something I created.”

  I nod to the mess around her. “Is all of this for Mrs. Sullivan’s party?”

  “Yes,” she says. “She’s coming by in the morning to approve the final menu and I thought it would be better if she had a little taste of a few things I’m suggesting she serve.”

  “I don’t think you need to win her over; you already have the gig.”

  Her head bobbles from side to side. “I know, but I’ve been thinking about what you said. Maybe I can do this—cater parties. But I need to hit it out of the park. So everything has to be just right.”

  Even though she’ll probably be up all night, I’m glad it’s because she’s working toward this than because she’s staying up with worry over what Dad did.

  She slides me a plate containing a trio of appetizers. “I’m sure you’re starving. You can be my taste tester.”

  Holding up a little mini-sandwich-looking thing, I say, “This looks good. What is it?”

  “Pork tenderloin with a Creole mustard sauce on a homemade biscuit. We had something like it at that little restaurant off Magazine Street when I visited you last spring, remember?”

  I don’t, but that’s not surprising. I ate a lot of good food when I lived in New Orleans.

  “In the mini glass mason jar is my take on a shrimp boil. You get a couple of peeled boiled shrimp, slice of sausage, and a quartered potato topped with a spicy corn relish. And the last sample is a BLT-stuffed cherry tomato. There are a couple of other items that will go with these plus a couple of sweets like mini pecan pies and petit fours. I wanted dishes that could be made ahead since she’ll be picking everything up a few hours before the party.”

  Cleaning my plate, I say, “I could eat a dozen more of each. People are going to go nuts over this.”

  Her smile is big and has the power to warm me just by being near it.

  “So, have you made plans to go to the dance on Friday? I really think you should try to go.”

  “Doubt it,” I answer. When she’s busy at the stove, I steal one more of the pork biscuits.

  “Owen, you should go. It could be fun.”

  We need a change in conversation. Quickly.

  “I went to talk to Mr. Blackwell, and I can’t stop thinking about something he said.”

  And this does it. Mom’s eyes are big when she turns around to stare at me. “Why did you go see him?”

  “Wanted to talk to him about Dad.”

  “Oh, honey,” she says, moving closer to me. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. You know you can talk to me about him. I’ve just been so wrapped up in my own feelings….”

  “It’s fine. I just had some questions I thought he could answer. Like if Dad set out to screw everyone over from the beginning.”

  Mom frowns. “What did he say?”

  I lean my head back. “He thought he got into a bind and borrowed money at first. Then it got out of control. He may have been saying that just to be nice.”

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he set out to steal from everyone, either. What else did he say?”

  “I asked him if he knew you were getting threats.”

  Mom stiffens next to me. “O, I wish you wouldn’t talk about that to anyone. You know how they like to gossip in this town.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I was really trying to see his reaction. See if he was the one doing it.”

  “I can’t imagine Peter Blackwell running through our yard in the middle of the night chucking a brick through my window.”

  I can’t help but laugh at that mental image. “He’s such a little guy, he’d probably have a hard time throwing it that high, much less hitting the window.”

  Mom giggles and I’m happy to hear it. But my next words steal the smile right off her face. “He said they were playing golf not long ago and Dad was on the phone and was super pissed. Screaming at someone.”

  “Who?” Mom asks.

  “Dad told Mr. Blackwell it was some guy who left here a long time ago that he thought he wouldn’t have to ever deal with again. That’s all he said.”

  “Oh, God,” she says.

  Some of the color has drained from her face.

  “Do you know who he was talking about?” I ask.

  She chews on her thumbnail and seems to be lost in thought. “Your dad has lived here a long time. I do
n’t know….”

  “Could it be someone from that summer he worked at Gus’s?”

  “I don’t know. Owen, I just don’t know.” But her expression tells me that she has someone in particular in mind. “But whatever doubt you have of his guilt, you need to let it go. He’s guilty. He did exactly what he’s accused of…and then some.”

  Noah—Summer of 1999

  Abby’s parents won’t leave. It’s been three days since we buried her in the small cemetery in the back of the orchard and they’re still here. Her brother left as soon as he could, saying he couldn’t take off any more work. Robert, Abby’s cousin who’s been staying with her parents, is still here but it seems like he’s at their mercy.

  Gus spends his days working on the second floor of the new barn he had built last year. I joked that he was probably trying to enclose it so he could live out there and not have to go back in the house with his in-laws. He didn’t laugh so I’m guessing that’s exactly what he’s doing.

  Last night is the first night Maggie’s been by since the night Abby died but she didn’t stay long. Seems like her parents are keeping a closer eye on her ever since she hugged “that stranger” at the funeral home.

  “Can I help?”

  I like Robert, but damn he’s always got a funny way of sneaking up on you.

  “Uh, sure. Grab that branch and throw it on the trailer.” We’re out in the orchard, clearing limbs that have fallen. It’s busywork but I’d rather be doing this than playing referee at the house between Abby’s parents and Gus.

  “How much longer are y’all going to be here?” I ask Robert.

  He pulls a limb to the trailer and tries to pick it up but it’s more than he can handle. I grab one end and together we throw it on top of the pile with the others.

  “I have no idea. I’m on break from school for the summer and was working for Uncle John at his office. Then when we got word that Abby died, we all loaded up and headed down this way. I think Aunt Susan is ready to leave. She’s so depressed and being here isn’t helping because she’s regretting the falling-out they had years ago. But I think Uncle John is staying because he knows it’s driving Gus crazy.”

  I jump on the four-wheeler and slowly drive the trailer to the next tree while Robert follows behind me, picking up smaller branches as he goes.

  “What are you studying in school?” I ask him.

  “Business. Want to get my MBA after I finish my undergraduate degree.”

  He’s got a plan and I can’t help but be a little jealous of him. I bet Maggie’s dad wouldn’t curl his upper lip when she hugged me if I had my shit together like Robert does.

  “That’s cool. I’m hoping to go to college one day. I’m working here, saving up so you know…this won’t be it for me.” I’m trying to justify working here to him and I hate myself for it. Hate that I feel like I’m not good enough for Maggie because I’m not like him, but Robert is a cool guy and it’s hard to hold it against him.

  He helps me with the limbs for the rest of the day and I can tell it’s been a long time since he’s done any work like this, if ever.

  “I’m probably not going to be able to get out of bed tomorrow,” he jokes, but he’s right. He’s gonna be hurting.

  “Yeah, this work isn’t for everyone.”

  Robert hops up on the trailer while I drive the four-wheeler back to the barn. Once we get everything put up, Robert brushes the dirt off his pants although it’s going to take more than that to get clean.

  “What are you doing later tonight?” Robert asks. “Want to get away from here for a few hours?” I know Robert hates being stuck in the house with Abby’s folks and it’s not like Gus is any company.

  As bad as I feel for him, I can’t do this. I can’t let him in, tell him what I do in my private time. And I don’t want him to know about Maggie’s late-night visits.

  “Not much. I’ll just probably crash,” I answer.

  He’s hanging around, probably hoping I’ll invite him to my place for a beer or something, but I guess he gets tired of waiting when he says, “I think I’ll head to town. See what’s going on. I’m going stir-crazy out here in the country.”

  And I feel bad. If things were different, I’d want to hang out with him. He could probably help me figure out the quickest way to get into school. But between Gus and this orchard and Maggie and everything else, I’m barely holding it together. So I watch him walk away and try not to think about how much I wish I was him.

  It’s late when Maggie shows up. I’m almost asleep when I hear the door creak open.

  “Are you still awake?” she whispers into the dark room.

  “Yeah,” I whisper back.

  She moves across the room and slips in the bed beside me, throwing an arm and a leg over me.

  “I wasn’t sure you were coming.” I sound pathetic.

  “I wanted to get here earlier but I had to go to this thing at the country club with my parents. I left as soon as I could. Sorry.”

  I pull her close. “I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t apologize.”

  She buries her head in my neck. “Maybe you should come by my parents’ house. Meet them. Let them get to know you. Then we don’t have to sneak around like this.”

  My jaw clenches. As much as I hate having to go kiss up to her parents, I will if it makes things easier on her. “Okay.”

  She pulls back and looks at me. “You will?”

  I smile. “Maggie, there’s very little I wouldn’t do for you.”

  If she needs me to be more like Robert to impress her parents, show them I can take care of her, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.

  Robert’s on the front porch with a cup of coffee when I show up at the big house the next morning.

  “Good night?” he asks, with a smirk.

  “Pretty good,” I answer back.

  “Late-night visitor?”

  I drop down in the chair next to him. “Are you spying on me?”

  He laughs and takes a sip of his coffee, then says, “No. I was coming in late myself. Saw a little black car driving through the orchard in the direction of that house you’re staying in. It’s that girl from the funeral, isn’t it? The one who hugged you by Abby’s casket.”

  I nod but don’t say anything.

  “I saw her last night. I met a girl in town and she brought me to some party at the country club to kick off the Deb season. That girl was there.”

  “What’s Deb season?”

  “Debutante season. You know, when all the rich families parade their daughters around, introducing them to society. There’ll be party after party until the big one sometime later this year.”

  I take a few steps back and turn to look out at the orchard. There’s a whole part of Maggie I don’t know. In fact, all of her life outside of her visits here, I know nothing about.

  “What was she doing?” I hate I’m asking this. And I hate he knows the answer and I don’t.

  “The normal stuff at parties like that. Hanging out. Dancing with her friends. Looks like she’s one of the ones being presented this year.”

  I’m going to lose her. It’s the one thing I know for certain. No way I can fit into that life with her.

  Unless I swallow some pride.

  I turn back to Robert and say, “I’m not good at that stuff. You know, fancy parties and talking to parents.”

  He nods and I know he gets what I’m trying to say. “I can help. It’s not hard. All you have to do is tell them what you think they want to hear.”

  Relief flows through me. Maybe there is a chance I can be someone Maggie would be proud to introduce to her parents.

  Robert stands up. “Want some help today? I can’t stay in this house with Aunt Susan and Uncle John. And we can go over how to look good in front of your girlfriend’s parents.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I hop off the porch and head to the barn. A few minutes later, I hear Robert following behind me.

  14

  �
��I’m not sure why we’re attempting lunch,” Pippa says as she unpacks her bag. “One of us is bound to get pissed off and leave and if the pattern holds, it’s me.”

  “But this is the best twelve to thirteen minutes of my day,” I say.

  She laughs even though she doesn’t want to. “So we’ve talked about me and we’ve talked about you. What’s left?” she asks.

  “How are things going with the play?”

  Pippa drops her head to the table and lets out a moan. “Auditions started and let’s just say it all sounded better in my head than it does onstage.”

  “That bad?” I ask. “Maybe it’s like hearing a recording of your own voice? You know, you think you sound horrible but really it’s not that bad.”

  She tilts her face up. “It’s that bad.”

  “Whatever. I’ve read things you’ve written and you’re very talented.”

  She closes her eyes and groans. “You haven’t read anything I’ve written since before you went to Sutton’s.”

  “So you’ve only gotten better,” I say back to her. She gives me a small smile and I take that as a victory. “Actually, I have another favor to ask,” I say.

  “I’m already going to the auction with you,” she says. “I don’t know if I like you enough for two favors.”

  “You like me plenty. You just aren’t ready to admit it.”

  She doesn’t respond to that but does ask, “So what’s the favor?”

  “It’s an easy one. I’ve heard rumors there’s a dance this Friday.”

  Pippa glances around the cafeteria at all of the homemade signs advertising the upcoming dance and game. “Rumors, huh?”

  Tonight’s football game is the last game of the regular season and on a Thursday night instead of Friday, so Friday night the school is throwing a dance to celebrate making it to the playoffs.

  “Yeah, I’m not sure why this school isn’t making a bigger deal out of it,” I say. Literally every announcement, every poster, every conversation is around the upcoming weekend festivities.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Are you going?” I ask.