For Lila, Forever

by Winter Renshaw

Oh, thank God.

  “So yeah, all those times Granddad was warning me to stay away from Lila? It was for that reason. And when he was warning you? It was because he couldn’t stand her, what she represented,” Westley says. “Anyway, it wasn’t twenty-four hours and Granddad had the Hilliards shipped off. We all had to sign NDAs. And Thayer, I’m telling you … you cannot repeat any of this to anyone. Lila will lose everything. I’ll lose everything. I don’t even think Granddad knows the kid is yours anyway. We didn’t exactly have a chance to tell him. Everything happened so fast.”

  “Is this why you’ve been so distant to me?” I ask.

  His lips press flat. “Yeah. All of it felt so wrong. I couldn’t look you in the eye seeing you so torn up and knowing what I knew. It was easier to avoid you. I’m so sorry.”

  “So what now?” I ask. “Do you still have the NDA you signed?”

  “Yeah. I’ll let you look it over. But dude, please don’t cause a scene. It’s not worth it. Lila was provided for. The kid was provided for. Things could’ve been a lot worse.”

  I’m not so sure about that.

  I should’ve been there for her. I should’ve been the one taking care of her, providing for them.

  “Go get yourself a drink. Go for a walk. Cool off,” Westley says. “And for the love of God, don’t do anything stupid.”

  Chapter 48

  Lila

  “We’re almost there, sweetie. Hurry up and finish that,” I say to my daughter as she inhales the blueberry muffin she begged to have for breakfast this morning.

  I pull into the frenetic chaos that is the school drop off zone and MJ unbuckles her seatbelt before grabbing her backpack.

  “Oh, Mom,” she says. “I forgot to tell you. I saw your friend at the coffee shop.”

  “Which friend?” I inch up half a car length and wait as six kids climb out of a sagging Dodge Caravan.

  “The guy who was at our house last night,” she says.

  She only saw him for a few seconds. There’s no way she could recognize him. It was probably someone who looked similar.

  “How do you know it was him?” I pull up another car length. We’re almost next.

  “Duh, Mom. I asked him,” she says.

  “Ah. So the two of you had a conversation?” I glance up at her in the rearview.

  MJ shrugs. “I don’t know. He asked about my necklace.”

  She tugs at the opal ring hanging from a chain around her neck—the ring Thayer gave me ten years ago when we spent a day strolling around in Rose Crossing, hand in hand. The ring is still too small for me and it’s too big for MJ, so she wears it like a pendant.

  “Oh, yeah? What did you say?” My hands are wrapped tight around the steering wheel, palms sweating.

  “I told him my daddy got it for my mommy before I was born,” she says, scooting across the backseat and reaching for the handle.

  “And what did he say?”

  “He said he must have loved her very much to give her such a special ring. Why are you asking so any questions?”

  “No reason,” I say. “Time to go, babe. Have a great day, okay? I’ll see you after school.”

  MJ climbs out and shuts the door before running toward the school entrance and disappearing into a crowd of multi-colored backpacks, and I drive home, thankful that she didn’t notice the tears behind my sunglasses.

  Chapter 49

  Thayer

  I loosen my tie and unfasten the top two buttons of my dress shirt before shrugging out of my suit jacket. I’m hot. Burning. My skin is crawling as I pace my grandfather’s study. I need to get out of this suit and off this fucking island as soon as possible.

  Whitley’s wedding was nothing short of beautiful. At least I think it was. It was like I was there, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t enjoy a damn thing. I probably looked miserable, though I tried my hardest to put on a good face. Despite the live band and open bar and good-spirited guests, I kept myself away from the merriment. It wasn’t that I was trying to be an ass … I just wanted to keep myself from doing something stupid at my cousin’s wedding—like confronting Granddad …

  But the wedding’s over.

  The guests have left.

  There’s a hired crew outside taking down tents and chairs and the dance floor. The caterer is cleaning up and the band is packing up and Whitley and her husband are already halfway back to the mainland by now.

  My parents, aunt, uncle, and Westley have all retired to their houses, and last I knew, Granddad was outside talking to a member of the clean-up crew.

  He’ll be coming inside any minute.

  And I’ll be waiting for him.

  Westley mentioned he and Lila were forced to sign NDAs, but if he threatened them and coerced them to sign the documents, they could be legally challenged. A contract signed under duress isn’t enforceable, and I can only imagine the fear of God he was putting into a frightened, eighteen-year-old Lila.

  Westley also mentioned Granddad had been providing for Lila and MJ. I imagine that was part of the deal, him buying her silence with money, but they’re not his problem anymore. They’re mine. I’ll be the one taking care of them from here on out. His power, his money … it’s no good here.

  Not anymore.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  I toss my jacket over the back of his leather chair when I hear the front door open and close. His heavy footsteps follow, growing louder with each passing second. Any moment now, he’ll see the light on in his study.

  With my hands on my hips, I straighten my shoulders, hold my chin up, and wait.

  “Thayer,” Granddad says a few seconds later when he steps in. “What are you doing in here? I saw the light was on, but I had no idea—”

  “Sit,” I say. “I’d like to have a word with you.”

  I’ve never spoken to him like this before, and the incredulous look in his eyes paired with the open-mouthed smile on his mouth tells me he isn’t sure whether to take me seriously.

  “Mind telling me what this is about?” He doesn’t sit. He stays planted in the doorway, blocking me in. I realize now he’s always done this. It’s a power move, a silent way to show who’s in control.

  “You lied to me, Granddad,” I say.

  He scoffs. “Thayer. I don’t know what you’re talking about or why you feel the need to have this conversation at this very moment, but it’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a long week. And I’m exhausted. If you don’t mind, I’m going to wash up for bed. We’ll have this talk tomorrow. We can go on a sail, just you and me. How’s that sound?”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be an option,” I say. “I’m leaving tonight.”

  He checks the Rolex on his left wrist. “It’s one in the morning. Where are you going to go?”

  “We’re having this conversation now.” I ignore his question. It’s none of his business that I plan to hitch a ride back to the mainland with the wedding crew, where my rental car is parked in a public lot a few blocks from the inlet. I planned to find a hotel, but I’ll sleep in the damn car before I spend another night on this island with him. “You lied to me. You told me the Hilliards retired, that you didn’t know where they were.”

  He squints. “The Hilliards? This is about the Hilliards? Thayer, that was a lifetime ago. Why are you bringing this up now?”

  “Because you banished them, you made them change their names, and because of that, I’ve spent the last ten years killing myself trying to figure out what happened to them … all the while not knowing that I had a daughter.”

  His brows rise before meeting in the middle, and he strokes his thick fingers along his bristled jaw. I remember Westley saying he didn’t think Granddad knew Lila’s baby was actually mine, that everything had happened so fast.

  “I have a daughter,” I say it again, louder and clearer in case he didn’t hear me the first time. “And I’ve missed everything. Every birthday, every milestone. Every opportunity to be there for the two of
them.”

  My jaw tightens.

  His eyes wince and his face turns a shade darker. “I was protecting you.”

  “What do you mean, you were protecting me?” I ask. “Are you saying you knew the baby was mine from the start?”

  Granddad snorts. “Of course I did. Do you think I’m a damn idiot? I saw the way you two looked at each other all summer. I saw you sneaking around. I saw the evidence in the old nurse’s cottage.”

  “And you never said anything?” Not that it matters at this point, but his revelation stuns me.

  “I warned you several times to stay away from her early on,” he says. “When it became clear you were going against my direct orders, I kept my mouth shut. I knew she was nothing more than a summer fling … until you had to create that … situation.”

  “You had no right.”

  “I had every right. You were throwing away your entire future over a girl!” His yell sends an ache to my ears, and he’s marching toward me with his finger ready to poke in my face. The number of times I’ve seen him lose his cool over the years, I can count on one hand. It’s almost comical, really. Seeing this once all-powerful, controlling puppet master reduced to a powerless parody of his old self.

  “That girl was my future!”

  “You’re a fool if you believe the two of you had any business being together. She’s a harlot. Her mother was a harlot. They’re trash, Thayer. Trash.” He shakes his head at me, glaring. “You know, all I ever wanted was for you to have the best of everything. The best education. The best opportunities. The best—”

  “—Lila was the best thing that ever happened to me,” I say.

  “You ungrateful prick,” he spits at me. “I give you the world and it’s not good enough, eh?”

  I know what he’s doing. He’s deflecting and distracting, trying to turn this around and make me look like the asshole.

  “Well, I’d hate to stand in the way of the rest of your life,” he says, sneering. “So consider yourself relieved from any and all familial ties and obligations you might have to me. First thing in the morning, I’ll get my attorney on the line and have a new will drafted up. I’ll be damned if I give you a damn thing after the way you’ve spoken to me. You have some nerve, boy.”

  I smirk.

  I don’t need his money.

  I don’t need a damn thing from him.

  And this might actually be the greatest thing he’s ever given me: freedom.

  “I would expect nothing less from you.” I gather my jacket and fling it over my left arm as I head toward the hall.

  “Don’t walk away from me, Thayer.” His voice booms from the study, but I keep walking away. “This conversation is far from over.”

  That’s where he’s wrong.

  I have nothing more to say to the bastard. Not now, not ever.

  “Fine,” he yells. He must be a few yards behind me now because his voice is louder and closer than it was a second ago. “Then don’t you dare set foot on this island again. You no longer have a place here.”

  I hear it in his voice—panic.

  He’s realizing that he’s lost the last bit of control he ever held over me. And he’s also realizing that the cat’s out of the bag now. This secret, this secret that he’s spent probably hundreds of thousands of dollars—if not millions—to hide … has now cost him everything.

  If that isn’t justice, I don’t know what is.

  I slam the door behind me when I leave, and I make my way to the dock.

  Chapter 50

  Lila

  “Go brush your teeth,” I tell MJ Sunday morning after breakfast. “We’re going to visit Grandpa. And wear a sweatshirt today. It’s going to be chilly.”

  MJ carries her cereal bowl to the sink, rinsing it out before skipping upstairs, and I pour myself my second coffee of the day.

  Across the room, my phone buzzes, and I head over to grab it off the charger, only I stop when I’m met with a hauntingly familiar 207 area code. For a moment, I think it might be Thayer, but he lives in Manhattan. He wouldn’t have a Maine area code and he never would’ve had one. It has to be Bertram.

  Clearing my throat, I glance at the bottom of the stairs to make sure MJ isn’t within earshot.

  “Hello?” I keep my voice down.

  “Lila,” the voice booms from the other end.

  My stomach sinks.

  It’s Bertram.

  I decide to take the call outside, on the back patio. Given the information that’s recently come to light, nothing good is going to come from this phone call.

  I asked Thayer not to say anything.

  No, I pleaded with him.

  I said it again and again, probably sounding like a crazy person, but I needed him to understand the gravity of the situation without having to divulge all the details.

  I pull the sliding glass door open and glide it shut behind me. It’s a cold spring morning, but sunlight dapples across the patio and the breeze makes the new budding leaves on the trees dance.

  In a matter of seconds, I know this perfectly beautiful day is going to be demolished.

  Damn it, Westley.

  The contract forbade Westley and I from communicating these past ten years or else I imagine we’d have been on the same page.

  “It has come to my attention that you’re in breach of your contract,” Howard says. “I’m calling to inform you that effective immediately, I will no longer be upholding my end of the agreement. All forms of financial assistance will here on cease to exist and you have twenty-four hours to vacate your home.”

  “Twenty-four hours?” There’s absolutely no way I’m going to be able to pack up a decade worth of our lives and find us a new place to stay in twenty-four hours. I don’t even know if I could do that in a week. All the apartments around here require credit checks, and given the fact that I’ve never so much as had a credit card or car loan to show I’m capable of paying my bills on time, I can’t imagine anyone’s going to let me sign a lease. There might be a few places in town with sketchy landlords desperate to fill empty units, but I refuse to force my daughter to live in a place that literally lets anyone move in.

  “Goodbye, Lila. I’ll be sending someone to collect the keys and change the locks first thing in the morning.” With that, Howard ends the call, not that it’s surprising. There’s never any arguing with him, and I know what the contract said.

  I hug my sides and let my lungs fill with the cool breeze.

  Suddenly this house feels like so much more than a house to me. Standing on the porch where I used to lounge with a book while my daughter ran around in the back yard, I can think of a hundred other memories just as ordinary and precious.

  I wipe the tears that start to fall and compose myself in record time before heading back in.

  “Mom, what’s wrong?” MJ asks. She’s standing in the middle of the kitchen. “Why were you outside with no coat on?”

  “Change of plans, sweetie,” I say. “We’re not visiting Grandpa today.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ll tell you later. I promise. I just have a few things I need to take care of. You want to play with Lucy today? I can call her mom and see if you can go over for a few hours?”

  MJ hops up and down, her face lit and vacant of the concern that filled it a second earlier. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  “All right. Go change into some play clothes,” I say as I call my friend, Taylor.

  I met her the year we first moved here. The two of us were the only single moms at the parenting seminars the local hospital held for pregnant women, so we ended up pairing up and then we promised to be each other’s birth coaches, even though neither one of us had ever done it before.

  She ended up having Lucy three weeks before I had MJ.

  We were there for each other then, and we’ve been there for each other ever since.

  “Tay,” I say when she answers. “I need a huge favor …”

  “Of course, anything,” she says.
r />   I begin to talk, but my throat constricts. My voice is going to be shaky and she’s going to ask me what’s wrong, and I’m going to lose it and I don’t want MJ to see me like this.

  “Delilah?” she asks.

  “Yes, sorry.” I clear my throat and take a deep breath. “Can MJ come over today for a few hours?”

  I keep my voice light and upbeat. I’ll tell her everything later, when I’ve had a chance to sort through all of this.

  “Oh, God. Yes. Send her over. Lucy’s been begging for a playdate all week.”

  “Thanks, Tay. I’ll drop her off in a few.”

  I load MJ into the car a few minutes later and run her across town to Taylor’s house. I wait in the car as I watch her go inside, and I wave to Tay and Lucy from the driver’s seat before backing out and heading home.

  Halfway there, I stop at a home improvement store to pick up as many cardboard boxes as I can. We might have to stay in a hotel for a while, but I can put the important things in these and keep them in my car.

  Last I checked, we had a decent amount in savings that should get us through these next few months. For several years the three of us had saved up quite the nest egg, but between Grandma’s sickness and subsequent stint in a nursing home and Grandpa’s Alzheimer’s and the insane cost of keeping him at Willow Creek, we’ve blown through a depressing amount of it.

  I pull into my driveway a few minutes later and start carrying the empty cardboard boxes to the house. Across the street our long-time neighbor, Ms. Beauchamp, is pruning her flowers.

  “Hey, Miss Delilah!” she calls, waving with a garden-gloved hand.

  “Hi, Ms. Beauchamp,” I say, giving a nod because my arms are full.

  She pushes herself up before waddling across her lush green yard and making her way across the street.

  “How’s Ed doing? I’ve been meaning to ask, but I haven’t seen you around much. We must keep missing each other.” Her bushy gray-blonde hair bounces in the breeze and there’s a smudge of dirt on her oversized red sunglasses. There’s something carefree and effervescent about her, and I’ve always loved that.