“You sound . . . unhappy about it.”
She crossed the room and stood in front of him, looking at the clock. “He and I are having a hard time at the moment.” She took a slim finger and traced the arch of the glass dome.
Dean paused, wondering if she truly wanted to talk about it. He didn’t want to ruin what they’d started to build here this evening. He wanted it badly enough, that he’d decided to keep his own admissions to himself for tonight. Molly had had enough to deal with today; she didn’t need to know about his lies just yet.
Finally he asked, “Because of the baby?”
“I don’t understand it!”
Apparently, she did want to talk about it.
She ran a hand through her hair, looking sweetly distracted. “He’s always been so reasonable. We could always talk through things. And he’s the first to help most anyone in a bind. But me . . . his own daughter. . . .”
“I imagine it’s complicated for him. He has more invested in you than he does in friends and acquaintances. Parents always have ideals in mind for their children. And so far you’ve delivered. This is probably the first time you’ve disappointed him in your adult life.”
She nodded, biting her lower lip.
Dean went on. “I’m sure he made sacrifices so you could have your education, your career. He doesn’t want those sacrifices to be dishonored—which is how he probably saw it at first. Then there’s the whole father-daughter relationship—”
“Right now we have no relationship.”
“Is that the way you want it to be?”
She looked shocked. “Of course not. I came home so Nicholas could grow up with a supportive family.”
“Then it’s going to be up to you to pull that family back together. Don’t wait until it’s too late.”
“That sounded grim. It’s not like he’s on his deathbed.”
“You never know. Here one day, gone the next. Just look at that guy on the bicycle.”
Molly gave a visible shiver and cast her gaze to the fire. In a small voice she said, “How did you get so insightful about parental relationships? You don’t even have kids.”
“No. I had two parents who were professors of psychology.” He pulled her against his chest and held her. It felt so right. How could he have ever thought this woman had led his sister to her death?
And now he was the duplicitous one. What was he going to do about that?
Riley drove past Mickey’s house. First he cruised slowly down the street. Then he turned his headlights off and drove along the alley behind her house. Mickey’s bedroom was on the second story in the back. Her light was on. He imagined her sitting up there alone, wrapped in an old quilt (Mickey loved old stuff) trying to get warm after walking in the rain, maybe reading one of her thick books—and it made his stomach hurt. Sharp stabbing pains that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
He could hardly remember how they used to be together. Mickey was unlike any girl he’d ever met. Honest, opinionated (in a good way, not spoiled), smart. What had seemed so straightforward that first summer had become twisted and knotted into a mess. Everything about Mickey had made him feel confused. He wanted to be with her, but at the same time, the feelings that burned inside him made him afraid.
Now he was older and knew more about those kinds of feelings—but they still made him afraid. It was easier with a girl like Codi, who just wanted to have fun, and who, he knew, would move on to the next guy at some point. Being with Mickey was different. Stuff mattered with her. What if he let himself feel those things for her and she left him? And with all the stuff about her dad, someday she would. One day, when all of the bruises healed and she forgot the fear, she’d stand up and blame Riley for sending him to jail.
When they’d started school after Riley had tricked Mr. Fulton into making a drug deal under surveillance of the sheriff, everything changed. What Riley had thought would bring him and Mickey closer together, ended up tearing them apart. News had spread by September, and Riley started at his new school as something of a hero. The story of the drug bust had been exaggerated by then to the point that even Riley was impressed with what supposedly transpired.
But it had been the opposite for Mickey. She was already different from most kids. She withdrew even further.
Everyone had thought him brave. But he never would have done it if it hadn’t been for Mickey. The bruises he’d seen on her collarbone had ignited a fury in him that he’d never experienced. The only thing he could think about was how to keep her dad from doing it again. Even after all that, somehow it seemed wrong to accept praise for ruining her dad and staying close to her at the same time.
And as she slipped away, Riley let her go. Because it was easier to fall into his familiar role of popular guy, class leader, to bury himself in things he knew, than to face his confusing feelings about a girl who changed his entire view of life—at least for one summer. It took a long, painful time for Mickey to completely give up on their friendship. But eventually, he wore her down with his feigned indifference.
For a while his stomach had given him so much trouble, his mother had taken him to the doctor. He’d prescribed something to reduce the acid in Riley’s stomach. In time, the pain lessened. Sometimes Riley thought it had more to do with avoiding Mickey than with the medicine, though.
And now the stomach pain was back, worse than ever.
Sitting across from Mickey at the spaghetti supper had been awkward, but it had started him thinking. And most of those thoughts had to do with how much he missed her.
He’d been so furious with Codi for making fun of Mickey that he’d driven her straight home instead of out to the dam like they’d planned. He said he wasn’t feeling well—which was true enough. He felt sick.
Codi was pissed. She told him that he’d missed his “chance” with her. Then she slammed the car door so hard, he was afraid she’d crack the glass. Which bothered him more than her being mad. Guess that told him just how much he really cared about Codi.
He drove for a long time. Over and over in his mind, he kept seeing that huddled figure turn, Mickey’s pale face in the night, then her defiant gesture that made him want to kick Codi’s spoiled ass out to the curb and put Mickey in the warm, safe car instead.
Now he sat in the dark alley, beside the trash cans and the utility poles watching her window like a pervert. What in the hell was wrong with him?
He took his foot off the brake and drove to the end of the alley. Once there, he turned on his headlights and took off so fast that the Mustang’s tires spun on the wet pavement.
“Are you sure? Nicholas will be up in a few minutes anyway for a feeding.” Molly stood with Dean at her front door.
“It’s hardly raining. There’s no need for you to drag the baby out.” He took a deep breath and released it. “I feel like I could use a walk anyway.” Nothing like a walk in the rain to wash away your sins.
It was nearly two A.M. He should have been gone hours ago. But he’d been enjoying his time with Molly enough that he deprived her of the few hours of sleep she’d get before the baby needed to be fed again. And for that he was sorry—but not as sorry as he was about what he’d have to tell her the next time they met; that he’d lied about his reason for being here.
He lingered in the doorway, absorbing the expression on her face. That caring look in her eyes would vanish the next time. It would be replaced with wounded betrayal. But there wasn’t a thing he could do about it now. It was too late.
He kissed her on the mouth, committing her taste to memory, then said good night.
She lingered in the open doorway for a long time. He was halfway down the block when he heard the door close in the quiet darkness. The rain had reduced itself to nothing more than thick misty fog that amplified the sounds of his footfalls against the still night.
An alert dog barked inside one house he passed. But no lights followed. Dean supposed it was rare that a person walked the streets at this time of night in Glens Crossing. In fact, he had
n’t even seen a car pass—and it was Saturday night.
As he walked, he wondered what it would be like to live in a place like this. Where the night was left to the owls and the tomcats, where high school football was the focus of the Saturday newspaper, where people ate sticky spaghetti and doughy cookies to support their basketball team. Would he die of boredom in a place like this, as he’d always sworn he would? Or would he get caught up in the simple rhythm of life here and open that Saturday paper to see if he knew the kid who caught the winning touchdown pass?
He shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched against the chill. His jeans were damp and chafing; he’d be glad to climb into the claw-footed tub and pull the shower curtain around it. The ceilings were so low in the upstairs of Brian’s cottage, he felt like a giant when he stood in the tub, his head almost scraping the ceiling.
Tonight he would welcome that feeling of largeness because he was feeling very small inside. He’d done nothing in coming here but lie to a decent woman. He was just as far away from discovering his sister’s killer as he’d been a week ago.
The only chance he had at making something good come of this would be if he could convince Molly to share any detail of his sister’s life that she could recall. If he was lucky, he’d find the key in those memories.
Lily sat with her lips pressed tightly together for fear of saying something she’d be sorry for. Clay sat across their kitchen table, his expression as dark and dangerous as she’d ever seen it. She’d thought this was settled right after Molly arrived. Why did he have to be so set on this now?
She glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight. Riley had gone out with Codi after the spaghetti supper and would be home any minute. Lily needed to get this conversation finished.
After taking a calming breath, she said, “I don’t see what waiting another couple of months is going to hurt.”
Clay’s eyes snapped with anger. “A couple of months, and then what? Something else will happen. I’ve tried to abide by your wishes in this, but we decided together. We’ve already prepared Peter. It’s time Riley knows who his real father is. My God, Lily, in a couple of years, he’s going to be off on his own. The longer we wait, the more he’s going to feel we lied to him.”
Her stony gaze met his. “We did. Nothing will change that.”
This discussion had always been very painful for the two of them. It was coming around more and more frequently. And it never became less complicated. That seemed to be their lot, a relationship filled with complications.
It had been that way from the beginning, back when they’d been teenagers. Clay and Peter, her ex-husband, had been summer people from Chicago and friends of her brother Luke. Lily had tagged along, pining secretly over Clay for years. Then, the summer she’d been eighteen, everything changed. Clay saw her for the woman she’d become. But they kept their relationship secret throughout the early weeks, knowing it would upset the balance of their friendship with Peter. Not to mention the fact that Clay’s wealthy and powerful father would disown him if he became involved with a girl he’d made very clear he thought was trash.
Clay had left her that summer in anger. He had wanted to tell his father, consequences be damned. She’d wanted him to wait another year, until he’d finished college, fearing he’d regret a rash decision. So they argued right before he left for Northwestern in the fall. And then Clay disappeared—completely.
When Lily had called after cooling off for a couple of weeks, Peter, who was also Clay’s roommate, said Clay had fought with his father and was now gone.
Lily waited to hear from Clay. Then she discovered she was pregnant and could wait no more.
She confided in their friend, Peter. He admitted his own feelings for her and convinced her to marry him and the three of them, Lily, Peter and the baby, could become a family. And she did love Peter—as a friend. However, what Peter never told her was that he knew where Clay was.
So they married. And Lily tried to make it work. But Peter’s secrets soon started eating him alive. Before long he took refuge in alcohol. Living with Peter became much more destructive for her son than living through a divorce, so she made a painful choice and ended the marriage.
But Riley continued to spiral out of control, his exploits becoming more dangerous and more destructive. In desperation, when Riley was thirteen, Lily moved them back here to Glens Crossing, seeking distance from Riley’s meddling wealthy grandparents and the stability of a small town life.
She didn’t discover the truth of what had happened until she returned, and found that Clay had moved to Glens Crossing the previous year. He had told his father about her—and his reaction was far worse than even Clay had anticipated. His father had disowned him completely, recalling money, car, and all clout of the family name.
Clay left his father’s house on foot and ended up in a bar on Rush Street. There, while intervening when a man was beating a woman, he was arrested. The other man suffered a knife wound in the process. Unluckily for Clay, the woman sided with the knife-wielding boyfriend and Clay, unable to make bail, sat in jail awaiting trial for nearly a year. His father made good on his promise that Clay was dead to him, refusing help of any kind. Clay thought perhaps his father had even used his influence to make things drag on longer than they would have otherwise. No one crossed Douglas Winters without retribution.
When Clay was finally released, Lily and Peter were already married and Riley had been born. Clay assumed the baby was Peter’s. Clay left Chicago, without having spoken to Lily or Peter, the stinging whip of betrayal snapping at his heels.
When Lily and Clay had worked through their painful past and decided to share a future, he’d only asked to be a part of Riley’s life. He’d promised to leave the decision of whether or not to tell the boy up to her. But as time passed, Lily knew it was unfair to both Riley and Clay not to have the truth in plain sight. But there never seemed to be a good time to break the news. And the longer she waited, the worse it got.
They had settled on telling him the week that Molly arrived with Nicholas and turned the entire family upside down. Clay had been patient, but his patience was running thin. He’d readied himself; now he wanted it done. Lily still feared the aftermath, she lay awake night after night worrying about it. They’d all been doing pretty well living together. After this, who knew what would happen.
Clay got up and walked around the kitchen table, kneeling beside her chair. He took her hand. When she looked in his face, the anger was gone. What she saw there was much more powerful . . . he, this proud man, was begging her. “Seeing Molly’s baby tonight—and the way Riley was with him. It broke something free inside me. I’ve missed most of his life already. I need him to know.”
She pulled his head against her chest and kissed it. “I know.”
But telling Riley meant telling her father, her brother and sister, Peter’s parents. She just didn’t want to face it—and she knew she never would. It had to be done. Clay was right; the sooner the better.
“All right,” she said with her lips pressed against Clay’s hair.
He pulled away and looked into her eyes. The gratitude she saw there made her feel selfish and miserly, refusing him this for so long.
Then he said, “Tonight. When he gets home.”
Her heart took flight like a startled bird. It beat frantically against her rib cage, until she feared it would stop beating. Tonight? Why couldn’t they wait until tomorrow? Even as she thought it, she knew tomorrow would become the next day, then next week, and they’d be back where they started.
Her mouth was dry and her stomach rolled when she said, “Tonight.”
She didn’t have a moment to recompose herself because she saw Riley’s headlights as he pulled into the drive.
Her startled gaze shot to Clay.
He took her hand and squeezed. “It’s going to be all right. You’ll see.” Then he stood behind her chair and put his hands on her shoulders.
Thank God she was sitting; oth
erwise she would have fallen down.
Riley’s car door slammed, then his feet thudded up the back steps.
The instant he threw open the kitchen door, she knew something was wrong. His face held the old anger and tension she thought he’d long since released. But would Clay see it?
Riley started to pass through the kitchen with only a quick, “Good night.” But Clay stopped him.
“Riley, sit down for a minute.”
Lily wanted to leap out of her seat and stop this, but she knew Clay would just see it as another stalling tactic.
Riley didn’t move toward a chair, but hovered in the doorway. “I’m really tired.”
Clay’s fingers tightened on Lily’s shoulders.
Please don’t do this now.
After a moment’s hesitation, Clay said, “Go on to bed.”
Lily nearly fainted from relief.
Clay took his seat at the table again. His face held so much disappointment, Lily wanted to cry.
After Riley’s bedroom door closed, Clay said, “Dammit.” Then he blew out a long breath. “Obviously, something’s wrong.”
Lily got up and sat on her husband’s lap. She kissed him on the forehead. “You’re a good father. Not every man can read a child’s mood so quickly.” She pushed his hair away from his forehead. “Thank you.” She kept her words simple, trying to hide the relief she felt.
Still, Lily knew it was all just borrowed time.
Chapter 13
Molly awakened on Sunday morning to the sound of the soft squirming sounds Nicholas made before he completely woke up. She lay in her bed, looking at the pre-dawn shadows shifting on her walls and listened with her heart near bursting. How could one tiny being fill up one’s soul? He was a miracle with every breath he took, in every moment of his being.
She got out of bed and tiptoed over to the crib to watch him come awake in the pale gray light. She nearly held her breath, wanting to capture this instant forever in her heart. His innocence, the gentle sound of his breathing, the way his small fingers clutched as tightly in sleep as if they were holding a treasure of immeasurable worth.
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