by Anna Adams
His mother hadn’t locked up for the night, and he found her surrounded by Chad and Celia and Noah at a large, round table.
“The woman is troubled,” Noah was saying. “Something must have happened to her, and considering our own pasts, you might all consider showing her a little more compassion. You can’t blame her when you don’t know her situation, Mom.”
His mother nodded. “If someone had stepped in with us, maybe Owen wouldn’t drink. Maybe our whole family would be happier.” Suzannah bit the tip of her thumb. “I’m ashamed to admit I was such a terrible mother, anyone would have been better, and I’m devastated that my mistakes still make problems for you all. If I could, I would change it all no matter what I had to do.”
“Stop, Mom,” Celia said. “I don’t think being tossed into the foster-care system would have been a blissful alternative. It might have been out of one fire and into a conflagration.”
“I’d also rather not hear you’d have been better off if someone took us off your hands,” Owen said, drawing their startled attention.
“That’s not what I meant.” Suzannah shook her head with a hint of her old frantic desperation. “Any kind of mother would have been better than me. Why didn’t I see what I was doing? What I wasn’t doing for all of you.”
“We’re not discussing that tonight, Mom.” If she didn’t relent, he’d have to go chop a cord of wood or steal a good bottle of wine from her cellar. Only Suzannah Gage could see having her children split up and distributed to foster families around the county as an alternative to just protecting them from the man who’d abused them all. “Lilah’s done her best for Ben, and she’s raised a great child. I don’t care if you all disapprove. What I’ve done, dragging her down here, is bad enough. Maybe you could leave her alone, and let her and me work out how to be good parents to Ben.”
“You ask us to be family to Ben—and to her,” Chad said. “But she’s scared of everything, and it’s our duty to tell you she’ll teach that boy to be afraid of his own shadow. I won’t be surprised if he’s scared of Gomer and the rest of the goats after this.”
“Lilah pulled Ben out of a goat stampede. He’s hardly more than a baby himself, and they’re heavier than he is. She trusted you to look after him, Chad, because I asked her to. I feel responsible when you let us both down. You didn’t have to say you’d take care of him.”
“I was watching him.” Chad sounded as defensive as Lilah had described. “I stopped just for a second to see if I could use the goat feed bags for training. You know, dragging it? Lifting?”
“You dumped the kid to bench-press goat feed?” Celia asked, in the same tone Lilah had used.
“Chad, do you know how that sounds? After you pass judgment on Ben’s mother?” Owen was uncomfortably aware he’d done the same thing. Maybe this was a second chance for him to stop thinking she overreacted. “If you promise to watch Ben, don’t turn your back on him. He’s small and curious. Just don’t offer if you can’t focus on the job.”
“Come on, Owen.” His mother tapped her hands on the table. She still didn’t like arguments. “Let’s not lose our tempers.”
“My temper is lost when I think what might have happened to my son if Lilah hadn’t shown up.”
“She treats us all as if we’re conspiring against her, and we’re not functionally intelligent enough to take care of a small child,” Chad said. “I just want to spend time with my nephew.”
“In a frozen stream, apparently, after you bench-press animal food,” Celia said.
Owen flashed his sister silent thanks. “Lilah is Ben’s mother. What she wants goes before your choices about what’s best for Ben. She told me what happened because she was concerned for our child, but you act as if something’s wrong with her.” And there was, in a way. He’d thought he was going to explain, but they were so angry and judgmental he was changing his mind.
“You’re not—” Chad stood up, looking to Noah for backup and receiving only a bland stare. “You’re not falling for her again?”
There had been a moment just after she’d assumed he was suggesting they might get back together... Only a moment. “The woman hid my son from me for four years. Am I likely to forget that? She thought I wasn’t safe for him. Now, thanks to Chad, you all are working hard to prove that Ben won’t be safe here without her.”
“You told him about the stream thing, though, right—that they lead to roads.” Celia yanked Chad back into his chair. “That saved me several times when I was a kid.”
They were all silent. Celia had often responded to the violence between their parents by running away. Just disappearing.
“He’s four.” Owen felt his voice rising. “Will he remember about streams and roads? Will he reach a road before he tangles with a bear or falls into the water? If you’re looking after him, look after him, focus, people.” Which was pretty ironic, considering Noah had already pulled his phone from his pocket. The show must have been over. Owen turned back toward the door. “Give her the kind of break we’ve all asked for ourselves around here.”
“Lilah Bantry.” Noah’s voice was a mix of surprise and deep compassion. “Little Lost Lilah.”
Chad, Celia and their mother looked confused. Before any of them could say a word, Owen turned, ready to shut them all down. “Cut it out, Noah. This is none of your business. I was going to tell you, but hearing the way Chad talked about her, I thought better.”
Noah ignored him. “I knew something was wrong. Her responses feel extreme.”
“I said this was none of your business.”
“Sorry.” Noah put his phone back in his pocket. “I’m a little ashamed of myself because I thought she was acting paranoid with Ben to make a point about you. Anyway, don’t you think we’ll all get along better if we know the truth about each other?”
“What do you know about truth? What have you ever done that you needed to hide?” Dr. Noah had toed the line better than any of them. His life had been all about control, and repression of the Gage family’s negative tendencies.
“What’s going on?” Celia asked.
“It’s Lilah,” Noah said. “She suffered a horrible childhood trauma. I wonder why she never changed her name or hid her past. She had to expect someone would remember sometime.”
“I don’t understand,” Suzannah said.
Owen paid attention only to Noah. “How could she change her name when her family owns an internationally recognized business? Leave her alone, all of you.” He shot them a last warning glance. “Or I’ll be the one moving—to Vermont. It’s a circus around here.”
“Wait, Owen.”
Noah again.
“What, big brother?” He turned, ramming his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Lilah should be able to talk about her problem. She shouldn’t be hiding it or Ben from life.”
“Lilah is none of your business. I know you mean well, Noah, but stay out of this.”
“Wait.” His mother came around the table. “Are you all right? You’re so upset. You won’t—”
“Drink?” The wine was on his mind again. How could it not be? Numbness had to be better than guilt and worry. “Good night, Mom.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“OWN, I WANT to visit you.”
Ben’s voice echoed around the hollow building, more clinic than barn now, with its open framing and dangling wires. In the middle of tracking some of that wiring high up on a wall, Owen looked down from a ladder that wasn’t balanced correctly. He pressed his hands to the wall, intent on keeping his son away from the unsteady metal ladder. “Ben? Where’s your coat? And where is Celia?”
His sister had promised to watch Ben.
“Talking all funny to someone on her phone. I wanted to see you. I told her I was coming out here.” He looked up at Owen. “She’s still talki
ng. Whatcha doing?”
“Looking for wires.” Clicking the off switch on his flashlight, Owen stabilized the ladder, at the same time keeping an eye on the power tools spread all over a workbench too near his curious son. “Don’t touch anything. Okay?”
“There’s lots of wires.” Like iron filings to a magnet, he headed for the bench.
“I think I found the ones I wanted,” Owen said. “Leave the table alone, Ben.”
“I won’t touch.” He put a tentative finger on the edge of the bench. “You mean this stuff?”
“Ben.” Owen started down the ladder. There was a little too much of him in his son. The moment someone told him no, he knew better. Always had. Ben had somehow managed to retain that quality despite Lilah’s best efforts to keep him safe. No wonder she worried about him so much.
“Own, what’s this?” Ben tapped the back of the power hammer.
“No, Ben.” Owen moved faster, skipping a few rungs. Could no one in his family be trusted with his son?
Ben tapped again. “Can I just look at it?” He reached for the round handle that required both his hands to grip, and held the business end of the hammer pointed in the direction of his face.
Owen skidded down the rest of the ladder, which toppled to the side and fell from beneath him. At the same time, he heard the report of a nail being shot out of the hammer, into who knew what, and the concrete floor ended his fall with an unforgiving thud.
Sprawled on the cold, hard surface, he tried to catch his breath. He also tried to turn. Thankfully, Ben began to cry. He couldn’t cry if... Owen’s arm gave out underneath him, stabbing with unbelievable pain.
“Ben,” he said, his voice a gasp, “are you all right?”
“Own?” The little guy’s boots slapped against the floor as he ran. “Are you dead?”
“Are you okay?” He managed to lever himself up enough to catch Ben in the circle of his good arm. Ben’s hug nudged the injured one, and pain rushed through him again.
He tried to hold Ben a little away so he could see if he’d hurt himself, but the little guy was wrapped around him, sobbing.
“Ben, are you hurt? Are you bleeding?”
He shook his head, and Owen found nothing more than a scrape on the back of his hand “What’s this?”
“My hand hit the table when I shot you.”
“What?” At last, he realized Ben was crying for him. “Buddy, I’m fine.”
“I shot you. With that gun.”
“It’s a hammer, and you didn’t shoot me. I fell off the ladder.”
“Let me see.” Ben backed up, and this time, he yanked at Owen’s shirt, his ice-blue eyes so familiar, so worried, Owen wanted to cry, too.
“I’m good.” He took the opportunity to get a closer look at his child. “No blood,” he said, with relief. “No puncture wounds.”
He shouted a silent thanks and struggled to stand. His head swam with both agony and relief as Ben grabbed at his arms, trying to scramble closer.
“Let me get up,” Owen said, looking for his phone but not finding it. “I’ll carry you back to Grandma’s.”
“Okay.” Ben rubbed his streaming eyes and nose on his sleeve. “Don’t tell Mommy I shot you. She doesn’t like guns.”
Owen crawled to his feet, bracing himself on his good hand, and then leaned down and lifted Ben, who immediately wrapped his arms around his father’s shoulder and hitched his knees into Owen’s ribs.
The walk to the inn was a dizzying adventure over rough ground. The important thing—his son hadn’t been hurt. He’d have to get the tools to higher ground because, clearly, no one could put a stop to Ben’s wandering ways.
“Buddy, can you lean down and open the gate for me?” Owen asked as they reached the fence that barred the goats from the inn’s front yard.
Ben leaned down, but his foot slid into Owen’s bad arm. Owen managed to turn his gasp into a laugh that Ben shared with a bewildered expression. Breathing hard to keep from being sick, Owen heard the one voice he was hoping to avoid speak his name.
“Owen?” Lilah said from behind him, a hint of “I told you so” in her voice. “You found Ben. Is he all right? Baby, are you hurt?”
“He’s fine,” Owen said, trying to reach the house before he collapsed. He’d explain later when Ben wasn’t around.
“Own’s not fine.”
“What happened to you?” Lilah was catching up. The fence squeaked on its hinges as she shut it.
“Own fell off his ladder,” Ben said, driven to confess. “I was playing with his tools, and I shot him.”
“You—what tools?” Lilah came from behind and ran her hands over Owen’s body the way he’d examined their son. “You are hurt, Owen. Give me Ben.” She scooped the little guy into her arms and looked him over before setting him on the grass. “Are you okay, honey?” she asked again.
“I didn’t shoot myself, Mommy, just Own.”
She didn’t look at either of them, but she reached for Owen’s arm, only to stop.
“He had the power hammer,” Owen said. No use in coloring the truth. “I’ll move everything to higher shelves.”
“Own was way high on a ladder, Mommy.”
“I see. You were trying to reach him, and you fell off a ladder?”
“Yeah. Does that give me points?”
“You don’t need points. I’m not worried that you won’t look after him.” She turned Ben toward the pale yellow clapboard inn. “Obviously, you didn’t realize you should put power tools out of his reach, but I know you’ll try your hardest to keep him safe. Ben, let’s go ask your grandmother if you can play with her for a while.”
“I like playing with Grandma. She lets me cook.”
Lilah sent a desperate glance over her shoulder.
“Not at the stove.” Owen slid his good hand beneath his bad arm. A sling might be a magical thing.
“Where you going, Mommy?”
“I might take Own to see his brother, Uncle Noah,” she said. “Own seems to have an injury.”
“Let me see.” Ben pulled free of her hand and turned to inspect Owen again. “Is your arm hurt, Own?”
“A little, but you didn’t shoot me.”
Lilah looked wary again, but she literally bit her lip. “Come on, Ben. Let’s go talk to Grandma. Owen, my car is unlocked.” She gave him a stern glance that promised they’d discuss specifics later. “If you want to wait for me.”
“Don’t give my mom details until we know what’s up with my arm.” He was never sure what his mother could handle.
“I won’t have to tell Suzannah.” Lilah sifted Ben’s fine, curly hair through her fingers, pointedly reminding Owen their son was always happy to share information. “But she still might get really worried in a hurry.”
“Explain a little, then.” He tried to lift his injured arm and noticed it jutted at an odd angle beneath his long-sleeved, flannel shirt. A wave of dizziness floated over him again. “Just broad strokes.”
“Okay.” Turning, she hurried Ben in front of her.
Owen went to her car and slid into the passenger seat. He put his head back and hoped the nausea would ease. Sooner than he’d expected, the driver’s door opened, and Lilah slid in, accompanied by a scent that went straight to his head.
She still used the perfume he’d been the first to give her. Though, who knew if another man had given her the same fragrance since?
He glanced at her. Focused on starting the car, she didn’t even look his way. Her features were slightly different from the time when they’d been together. More refined, almost fragile. Her jaw was soft and strong and delicate. How many times had he followed its sweet curve with kisses?
She turned suddenly, pausing as she reached behind them into the backseat.
“W
hy are you staring at me?” she asked.
“To take my mind off my broken arm.” And because he couldn’t help himself. She was still beautiful, still a mystery and a challenge to him. And she loved his son so much. Who could have guessed that would make him feel as if he needed her again?
“Don’t make me nervous.”
“I make you nervous?” Interesting. He’d been the one to tell her they weren’t going to mean anything to each other, but he liked the idea that she might not be as self-contained as she pretended.
She reached back again and came up with a soft blanket, which she tucked around him without actually touching him. For some reason, he didn’t protest that he didn’t need her nurturing.
“Every time you’re nice to me, I can’t help wondering if you’re plotting your next move with Ben,” she said.
With that, she bumped him back to earth, and he swallowed a groan, aware of the throb in his arm again. “We both believe the worst about each other. It’s bad for Ben, long-term, if we can’t be friends.”
She turned her face to the windshield, and he wondered what went on behind that expression he couldn’t read.
She didn’t want to be friends.
Neither did he, but he wasn’t sure he was happy to be antagonists any longer.
And Lilah’s beautiful face gave nothing away.
If only he could feel that same certainty. Even now, she believed she’d done right, breaking off their relationship, keeping Ben away from him. But every day they grew closer, and every day, Owen wanted more. More explanation, more understanding. More of the truth about Lilah.
* * *
SOMETHING ABOUT THIS accident had changed the atmosphere between them. Lilah wished she could read Owen’s mind. Funny, she hadn’t wished for that four years ago, when she needed to know whether he’d be able to stop drinking.
She hadn’t had to read his mind then. He’d been unflinchingly honest.