“Lila’s father is your father,” Howard says. “While your mother was pregnant with you and your sister, your father was sneaking around with Mary on the side.”
I hate the sound of my mother’s name in Bertram’s voice. It doesn’t belong there. He's a vile human being and she was a saint.
“So my father is Ari?” I ask.
Howard clucks his tongue. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Westley and I release our hands from one another’s grasp. He’s my half-brother. We can’t pretend to be lovers anymore.
“I banished your mother from ever setting foot on this island again once I found out,” he says. “And I forgave Ed and Junie. Told them their positions here were safe as long as they agreed never to let Mary or the baby anywhere near Ari and Lorelai. My daughter was in love. She was starting her family, her life. I refused to have all of that ruined over some meaningless copulation.”
Oh my god.
It makes sense now …
The reason my mother refused to set foot in Maine.
The reason she kept herself so closely guarded.
Howard banished her.
And Ari broke her heart.
My mind goes to Ari next. The number of times the two of us interacted over the summer I could probably count on one hand. He was always standoffish and avoidant, and I assumed that was just his personality.
Now I know better.
He was avoiding me, the bastard.
Howard begins to pace again, raking his hand against his bristly jaw and muttering to himself.
“I’m going to handle this,” he says. “You’ll tell no one, you understand?”
“Yes,” we both say.
“I’ll come to you when I have this sorted out,” he adds.
I decide right here and now that I hate this man, and I’ve never hated anyone in my life. Who is he to think he has any say in what I do with my child? “Now leave.”
Westley and I waste no time exiting Bertram’s study and when we get outside, we’re out of breath and talking over each other.
“Holy shit,” I say.
“Yeah, I can honestly say I’ve never seen him that angry before,” Westley says. “And the fact that he needs time to think about this means he definitely wants to punish us for this.”
“Also, um … we’re half-siblings,” I add.
“God, Yeah. That too.” Westley runs his hands through his auburn waves. I guess I’ve never studied him long enough to realize that we do share some resemblances. Same square jaw, same hairline, same gold-green eyes, though his are a shade lighter than mine. And Whitley … she’s blonde like me but other than that, she’s the spitting image of Lorelai. “This is a lot to take in.”
“I know, right?”
We stand in front of The Bertram for a few more minutes, the last half hour playing on a reel in my head.
“I should probably head back,” I say.
“Right.” He rests his hands on his hips, studying me. I wonder if he’s searching for resemblances too. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”
I give him a hug—one I feel wholly entitled to now that I know he’s my half-brother.
“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” he says as he heads to The Caldecott.
I make my way back to my grandparents’ cottage, numb with shock. By the time I get there, I have no recollection of the short walk. When I go in, I find both of my grandparents passed out in their recliners as a cable news show plays on their TV.
Sneaking to my room unseen, I collapse on my bed, my head dizzy with all these thoughts and revelations.
I so badly wish I could talk to Thayer.
He always knows exactly what to say to put my mind at ease.
Chapter 41
Thayer
“Hey, you going home for break at all?” My roommate asks the Friday before a three-day weekend.
“Yeah. Going to New Haven for the week. You?”
Jonah shrugs. “Staying put. My parents booked a freaking Caribbean cruise this week. Can you believe that? I’m like … what am I supposed to do? They knew we had no school this Monday.”
I pack my bag for the weekend and glance around the room to make sure I’ve got everything. I need to hit the road in the next forty minutes if I want to avoid rush hour.
“Taking off,” I tell Jonah, giving him a two-finger wave as I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder.
“Have a good one, man.” He waves back, his eyes still glued to his MacBook screen.
I pass a mailbox on my way to the student parking lot and for a second, I wonder how hard it would be to get a letter to Lila. Junie always gets the mail this time of year. If there’s no return address, maybe she’ll think it’s an old friend from California wanting to say hi?
There’s also the grocery boat. If it’s the same guy, I'm sure he’d do me a favor and hand deliver a note to Lila. I’d just need to call him. And mail the letter to him …
I decide to work out the logistics on my drive home, and I take solace in knowing I left a dozen haphazardly hidden notes all over her cottage for her to find. Even if I’m not there on the island, I want her to still have a piece of me with her at all times.
Chapter 42
Lila
I’m lying on my bed the next morning, earbuds in my ear as I make my way through a first edition copy of The Bell Jar, when Grandma bursts into my room. Her eyes are red, filled with tears, and her lower lip trembles.
The last time I saw her undone like this was at Mom’s funeral.
“Get up,” she says, motioning with her hands like I’m not moving quickly enough.
I know what this is about, but I don’t dare say a word.
“Come on now,” she says, waving me toward her.
I follow her down the hall, and I stop in my tracks when I get to the living room and find Howard standing in the middle. It’s so weird seeing him in this house. He sticks out among all of my grandmother’s pastel throw pillows and milk glass knick-knacks. He brings a heaviness that normally isn’t here.
“Lila, have a seat,” Howard says. “Actually, I’d like the three of you to take a seat on the couch as this conversation pertains to your entire family.”
“Lila, what have you done?” My grandmother’s lower lip trembles and her voice is a thin whisper.
My grandfather won’t look at me.
The three of us take the sofa. I’m sandwiched between them. Grandma wrings her hands in her lap and Grandpa rests his hands on his knees, though when I look closer, I can tell one of them is shaking.
“Ed. Junie,” Howard says as he stands before us. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but our Lila here is with child.”
Grandma gasps.
Grandpa’s shaking hand turns into a clenched fist.
“And the person who did this,” Howard pauses for dramatic effect. I’m almost positive he’s enjoying the hell out of this, dragging it out just so he can watch us squirm. “Is none other than her half-brother, Westley.”
My grandmother claps her hands over her mouth, her eyes filling with tears, and I realize now that she had to have known, and in a way, I imagine she blames herself for this.
I so badly wish I could tell her the truth.
I can’t imagine how difficult it’s been for her to bury a secret of this magnitude and for nearly two full decades.
“So now that we have this little … situation,” he says, booming voice filling the small cottage living room as he commands our attention. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to make some changes that are to take effect immediately.”
He retrieves a manila envelope from the coffee table, pulling out small stacks of paperclipped paperwork and three shiny gold ballpoint pens.
“Because of the sensitive nature of this … pregnancy and its details … I’m afraid I have no choice but to relieve all three of you from your duties,” Howard says, fingers coming to a peak beneath his bulbous nose.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand,” my grandpa says. “We had no idea
...”
“Lila was your responsibility,” he says. “You were to watch her. And keep her away from my grandsons. You failed. Just like you failed with Mary. I already gave you a chance with your granddaughter. I don’t do second chances.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper as the three of us stare ahead at the paperwork sitting in front of us.
“Not now, Lila,” Grandpa whispers back.
I realize now that their relationship with Mr. Bertram was never based on respect or admiration for him, but fear. He must have controlled them exactly the way he controls his own family.
“So here’s how it’s going to go,” Bertram begins. “First, the three of you will pack up your personal belongings and leave by noon today. I’ll have a boat waiting for you at the end of the dock. Second, I need each of you to sign a non-disclosure agreement that ensures you will never breathe a single word about this child or its existence to anyone in my family or extended family.”
I open my mouth in an attempt to protest, but my grandmother grips my forearm. I have to tell Thayer. As soon as I’m off this island, I’m going to find him. This is his child. He deserves to know.
“In exchange for your silence,” Howard continues, “I’ll ensure that the child is well-cared for for the next eighteen years. Lila, you’ll receive a monthly stipend of five thousand dollars until the child goes to college. At that time, I’ll have a trust in their name that should cover most if not all of their college expenses. In addition, I require that the three of you live under aliases. Shorten your last name to Hill. Alter your first names. Do what you need to do to become untraceable. Since that might complicate your ability to get loans or housing, you should know that I’ve already thought ahead. I’ll buy a modest home for the four of you, and I’ve already made transportation arrangements. When you arrive on the mainland, there will be a man there. He’s to give you keys to the car I’m giving you. As for where you settle, I’d prefer that it’s as far away from here as possible, the Pacific Northwest perhaps? I’ll let you decide. Last but not least, Ed and Junie, I know you weren’t planning to retire for at least another four years, so I’ll be providing a small stipend for you as well. I know it’s difficult getting employment at our age and with neither of you having high school diplomas, it's going to be a bit of a challenge. I’ll give you each three thousand dollars a month for the next twenty years. With your housing and transportation covered, the four of you should be more than comfortable.”
While this offer seems mutually beneficial, this feels like making a deal with the devil, and I have no intentions of signing.
“What’s the catch?” I ask.
“There is no catch,” Howard says. “The three of you keep quiet and make yourselves impossible to find … and you’ll be taken care of. If any of you so much as opens your mouth or contacts a single person in my family, the contract is null and void. You’ll lose the house, the car, and the monthly allowances and you’ll be completely on your own.”
Grandpa reaches for the pen.
Grandma follows suit.
The hot sting of tears fill my eyes. If I sign this, I’ll never be able to tell Thayer about the pregnancy—I’ll never be able to contact him in any way, shape, or form for the next two decades.
“This isn’t right,” I say as thick tears slide down my cheeks and land on the paperwork below.
“Neither is that thing growing in your belly right now,” he says.
“You mean your first great-grandchild?” I ask. I know family means the world to him and while it sickens me to know this baby has a drop of Bertram’s blood, I’m also not afraid to give him a taste of his own medicine and use that fact against him.
“Why do you think I’ve so generously provided for its education?” he asks. “Given the strange and bizarre circumstances that I tried my damnedest to prevent, I think I’m being awfully generous here.”
“Sign the paperwork, Lila,” Grandpa says under his breath.
“What happens if I don’t?” I ask.
“Lila, you don’t have a choice,” Grandpa says, shoving the pen in my hand. “We don’t have a choice.”
I look into his pain-filled eyes and think about everything this is costing them. Their job security. Their home. Their livelihood.
Everything they’ve worked their entire lives for.
And then I think about Thayer and the great things he’s going to do with that Yale law degree someday. If I don’t sign the paper and if I tell Thayer, my grandparents will be homeless and Thayer will have to drop out of school.
It’s lose-lose.
I try to look at this the way Thayer would. He was always good at finding the upside to every troublesome situation. I can’t be certain, of course, but I feel like he would make his decision based on what’s in the best interest of the baby, the innocent life who didn’t ask to be dragged into this.
Without saying another word, I sign the NDA and toss the pen when I’m done.
“Excellent,” Howard says, gathering the paperwork into a pile. “And here are your copies. I’d like you to ensure that every line of this is memorized frontwards and back. If you have any questions, you can contact my attorney. His number is at the top of every page.”
He speaks to us like we’re morons.
“Don’t forget,” he adds, checking his watch. “The boat will be at the dock at noon. That leaves you with three hours to pack your things.”
Grandma looks at Grandpa, her eyes glassy. I’m sure she's wondering how she’s going to pack a lifetime of personal belongings in a three-hour window.
Howard leaves without saying goodbye and without so much as thanking my grandparents for their decades of loyalty and service to his family.
“I have to tell you something,” I say. I’m going to tell them about Thayer.
“Not now, Lila,” my grandmother flits around the room, gathering small glass knick-knacks and framed photos of my mother and I in younger years. “Pack your things. We don't have time to chat.”
I rush down the hall, passing my grandparents’ bedroom and watching as my grandfather stuffs clothes into an open suitcase on the bed.
The gravity of the situation sinks into me when I get to my room. Grabbing my suitcase from under the bed, I pack my things with tear-stained vision.
I didn’t just sign an NDA today.
I signed away a future with the man I love.
Chapter 43
Thayer
“What are you doing on Saturday?” Ashlan is sprawled on my bed, thumbing through the photos on her phone. This is what she does. Shows up unannounced. Makes herself at home. Tries to weasel her way into my social life.
“I’m doing some intramural lacrosse thing with some guys from my philosophy class,” I say. At least this time it’s the truth.
“You suck.” She rolls to her stomach, eyes still glued to her iPhone. “Don’t you ever hate being so busy all the time?”
“No, I love it.” If I keep busy, it distracts me from missing Lila and makes the days go by faster, which puts me that much closer to May.
“Are you going home for all of Christmas break?” she asks.
“That’s, like, three months from now. Why are you asking?”
“Because I’d like to hang out with you at least once before the year is over. I feel like you never make time for me anymore.” She sits up, her bottom lip pouting. “At least at home you don’t have intramurals or clubs or study groups or whatever.”
Damn it.
She has a point.
“I’m still mad at you about last summer,” she says.
“Mad at me for what?”
She scoffs. “Thayer. I came all the way to the island to visit you for five days and you barely gave me the time of day. You were all hung up on that blonde girl. That maid.”
That maid.
Nice.
“What was her name again?” Ashlan asks, messing with her phone.
“Lila,” I say. God, it feels good to say her n
ame again. It’s been too long.
“Yeah, that’s right,” she says. “You totally had the hots for her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You were always checking her out when you thought no one was paying attention,” she says.
“Yeah, well, she was pretty. And I’m a red-blooded American male. That’s kind of what happens when you put those two things together.” I know I sound like a chauvinistic asshole, but I have to downplay this. If Ashlan gets so much as a whiff or inkling that I feel a certain way about Lila, she’ll tell her mom … who will tell my mom … who will innocently tell Granddad under the guise of thinking it’s a cute story to share. “She’s not my type though.”
“Obviously,” Ashlan laughs. “She was kind of weird.”
“Definitely.”
“Did you guys ever hook up?”
“God, no. I’m not that desperate.”
“Okay, now answer this: who’s hotter? Me or her?” she asks.
I have no choice but to tell her what she wants to hear. “You. Hands down. All the way.”
“Aww, I love you so much,” she says, singsong-y. “Do you love me?”
“Of course I love you,” I say, but only to get her to shut up.
“Say hiiiiiii to everyone.” She raises the phone and zooms in on me before tapping the screen.
“Did you just take a video?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Her nose crinkles. “Why?”
“You need to tell people when you’re filming them. Delete that.”
“No, I will not delete that. It’s adorable,” she says.
I reach for the phone, and she tucks it behind her back and lays on my bed. If I want it, I’m going to have to pin her down and wrangle it out of her hands, and I think she’d like that too much.
“Seriously, Ash, delete it,” I say.
She sits up, her phone still clutched in her hand. “You’re way too sensitive sometimes, you know that? Did you say something in the video that you don't want people to hear?”
“No,” I lie.
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