Lilies on Main (The Granite Harbor Series Book 4)

by J. Lynn Bailey

  “Good morning, Ruthie!” Lilly runs into her arms.

  “Oh, Lilly! How are you, my sweet girl?” Ruthie asks, wrapping her arms around my daughter.

  “We had a baby owl in here this morning! Warden Casey came to get it.”

  “Which Warden Casey?”

  “The tall one.”

  Ruthie laughs.

  “He has a twin brother, Lil,” I say.

  Lilly’s mouth falls open as she slowly turns her head in my direction.

  “A twin?” Lilly looks back at Ruthie. “He’s the one that looks at Mommy like this.” She makes a funny face, like a zombie. A zombie in some sort of trance.

  I blush and shake my head. Laugh a little.

  “That must be Aaron,” Ruthie says, releasing my daughter. She walks to the counter, holding Lilly’s hand.

  She sets her bag of books up on the counter, to trade in for store credit. I begin to go through them. Lilly discusses with Ruthie the need for vegetarian options for school lunches. Why she’s on this topic, I don’t know. I suspect it’s probably a question Ruthie asked about her new school in Granite Harbor.

  Lilly disappears into the shelves of books but not before getting one last hug from Ruthie.

  “I love that kid. Wise beyond her years. And how are you, Lydia?” she asks.

  “Busy. Ready for the summer season.” I keep it light.

  Ruthie isn’t just a resident of Granite Harbor; she’s a fixture. Raised here, she and her husband Milton, former chili-maker champion—as Bryce Hayes stole that title in the fall—make you feel part of this small town. As if you’ve lived here all your life and you know all the town secrets. Her mother, Ida—sweetest old woman you’ll ever meet—pops in once in a while with Ruthie.

  “How’s that sweet mother of yours?”

  Ruthie rolls her eyes.

  I don’t think there is a single person in Granite Harbor who has a bad thing to say about Ida.

  “I swear, that woman loses more control of what comes out of her mouth by the day. It’s as if she’s crossed a threshold into the I don’t give a shits.”

  “I’ll take all of them for forty-two dollars and fifty-five cents,” I say.

  “Sold.”

  “Do you want me to add it to your store credit?” I search for her card in my box to write a new total.

  “Yes, please.” Ruthie turns to look at the shelves of books. “I’m sure I’ll find something.” She turns her head and winks.

  “You always do, Ruthie.”

  “Lilly, take me to the children’s books,” she says in her best Cruella de Vil voice.

  I smile as I hear my daughter’s laughter from somewhere within the sea of books.

  Ruthie and Milton, I think, would have made wonderful grandparents. But they never had kids of their own.

  As I put Ruthie’s card on the counter, in case she decides to make a purchase, I notice one of my scars peeking out, and I pull gently on my sleeve.

  I promised Lilly we’d go to Merryman’s tonight. Her favorite restaurant in Granite Harbor. Not that we have many to choose from, but the quality of the food, no matter where you go in our small town, is excellent.

  “Hi, Shannon!” Lilly says to our waitress as she approaches our table.

  “Well, hi there, Lilly. What are you having tonight?”

  “I’ll have the clam chowder, please.” Lilly hands her menu to Shannon.

  “Got it. And—” Shannon starts.

  “Wait, there’s no chicken broth in clam chowder, is there?”

  Shannon thinks. “I don’t think so.”

  “Great. Your turn, Mommy.”

  I smile, wanting to laugh. “I’ll just have the house salad. Dressing on the side, please, Shannon.”

  “You got it, Lyd.” She takes both of our menus and tucks them under her arm but then eyes Lilly. “Shirley Temple?”

  “Yes, please!”

  Shannon looks at me. “Anything to drink, Lyd?”

  “Just water is fine. Thank you.”

  Shannon nods and walks back to the counter to put our order in.

  I’m already making a mental to-do list when Lilly says, “Mommy, I think Warden Casey likes you.”

  I jerk my head to her. “Why … why would you say that?”

  “Because he looks at you funny. Josh Hammel in preschool used to look at me the same way.” She rolls her eyes. “Ruby said he had a crush on me. I told him, if he ever came near me with those googly eyes, I’d hit him with a stick.” She rests her elbows on the table. “Is that how you feel about Warden Casey?”

  I’ve never been able to lie to my daughter, so I think on it. “Remember when you were four and you wanted to keep the dog you’d found while on your way to the store with Nana?”

  She nods, playing with her fork now and pumping her legs like she’s on a swing—and I know this because of the way the table is slightly moving.

  “And I told you, it wouldn’t be a good idea because there’s a lot of responsibility that comes with pets and that we just didn’t have the time to commit to a dog.”

  Lilly sets the fork down. “Yeah.” She stops pumping her legs.

  I shrug. “Same thing.”

  She tips her head up. “So, you won’t hit him with a stick because he’s too much work?” Her facial expression shows confusion.

  I laugh. Take a sip of water. Conjure up another excuse. “I don’t want to hit him with a stick. I just have too much going right now.”

  Shannon brings our food.

  We say, “Thank you,” and Shannon asks if she can bring us anything else.

  We say, “No.”

  Lilly thinks. “But what do you have going on? We work in a bookstore all day. It’s summer break. Most of the time, you reorganize books that are already organized.”

  Wise beyond her years.

  “Eat your soup,” I say, as I can’t think of another metaphor or make another excuse.

  We leave Merryman’s at six forty-five p.m. and walk home in the setting sun. Maple trees line Main Street with their spring leaves, helping make our transition to summer. We pass Granite Harbor Cuts and More, State Farm of Granite Harbor, Granite Harbor Opera House, Granite Harbor Mutual, Ring’s Pharmacy—as some call it Rick’s because Rick is the pharmacist who owns it—and Level Grounds Coffee Shop. If you look further down Main Street, you’ll see Bank of Granite Harbor and Oceanside Deli, new to Granite Harbor since the incident at Hello, Good-Pie three years ago. There’s no place like Granite Harbor. Nothing quite like the people who have lived in this small town for generations. Nothing like the first winter snowfall or the mystic of the Harbor Inn just at the end of town when the fog layer sits on the roof like a smooth silk gown.

  From the first time I came to town, among all the turmoil in my life, Granite Harbor has always given us, Lilly and me, simplicity and balance. I breathe deeper here. Allow the troubles of my heart to sit neatly in my chest. What happens while riding the coattails of vulnerability, I’m not sure I’m ready for it, but I know I can finally breathe again.

  I notice that Lilly is quiet, which isn’t common.

  “Lil, you all right?” I ask as we reach the bookstore and make our way to the back side through the small alleyway.

  “Yeah, just thinking about my crazy life.”

  I stop. “Your crazy life?” Guilt and sadness resonate in my gut, dancing for another time, as I think about what she’ll say.

  “Yeah, I mean, we rescued an owl this morning, Mommy.” She shakes her head, and tears start to overwhelm my eyes.

  The aftereffects of trauma will come and go, Lydia.

  I open the door to the staircase that leads to our apartment.

  When I found out I was pregnant with Lilly, I wanted to do everything right. I wanted everything to be perfect. Brett wanted that, too, for a while.

  “Mommy, can we skip a bath tonight?” she asks as we make our way up to our apartment door. “I’ll let you think about it,” she says.

  “How
about we get in our pajamas and watch a movie?”

  “So, no bath?” She stops.

  I shake my head.

  Lilly runs to me and wraps her little arms around my middle. “I love you, Mommy.”

  “You have no idea how much I love you. One day”—I sweep my hand through her blonde hair and take in this moment—“when you have your own children, you’ll know how much I love you.”

  “But I love you more than all the flower petals in the world.”

  “I love you more than all the grains of sand in the world.”

  Lilly looks up at me with her innocent blue eyes. Not the angry blue her father has. Dark, like night. But a lighter blue. A less troubled blue. Like the first sun after a long, cold, winter. “That’s a lot of love, Mom.”

  “Go get your pajamas on.”

  “Okay!” She takes off to her bedroom while singing “You’ve Got a Friend in Me.”

  I set my purse down on the kitchen table, slide my phone from my purse, and see a text from Aaron come in.

  Swallowing the sandpaper that has somehow supplanted itself in my throat, I slide open the text. Maybe it’s anticipation or fear, perhaps both. Fear of not wanting to commit. Fear of letting someone down. Fear of hope. Fear of love. Fear of the unknown.

  Aaron: Hey. Would you pass on the message and these pictures to Lilly that Harry is doing great. Just so she doesn’t worry.

  If my heart could beat for him the same way it beats for Lilly, this wouldn’t be an issue. If I didn’t feel such a strong obligation to my daughter to make up for my past, it would be easier. The feelings of want try to color what I know I need to do, disguise them into pieces of hope for any sort of future with another man. The way my lips felt against his on the night I couldn’t control myself anymore. The way his fingers took my hips as if he’d paid a price for them. It was too much.

  Me: Thank you, Aaron. I’ll tell her.

  In wild desperation, somewhere deep within my womanly needs, I want him to text back. Make a small joke, cling to something that we’ve shared. Why?

  Because you care.

  My phone chimes again. My heart picks up its pace and takes off into a field of rainbows, the kind Lilly draws when she writes letters to Nana.

  But it isn’t Aaron. It’s Bryce, and I smile at that, too.

  Bryce: Hey, you! Having dinner at our house on Friday. I really want you and Lilly to come.

  I bite on the clear coat of polish I put on weeks ago. The awful taste spreads in my mouth, but I pay no mind.

  Excuses come to my mind.

  You should stay home. You have a mountain of laundry.

  Hector—Lilly’s fish—needs to be fed.

  I need to balance the books and pay bills for the bookstore.

  Will Aaron be there?

  Really, you have two loads of laundry and two nights to do it before Friday, and your mom comes.

  Research suggests a goldfish can survive for at least two days without food.

  As far as balancing the books, you need to add a few items purchased for the store.

  And, if Aaron’s there, so what? Is that really a bad thing?

  Me: I’ll see. I have a few things to get done around the shop.

  Lilly comes running out. “I’m ready, Mommy!”

  I set my phone down and push my thoughts of Aaron away. “Okay! Let me go get changed.”

  “Okay. I’ll get the popcorn popper out.”

  I change my clothes and toss them in the hamper.

  There are no mirrors in my bedroom, so I can’t see the reflection of what’s happened to my body. Even Lilly knows, when my bedroom door is closed, she needs to wait or knock because I don’t want her to see what’s underneath what I wear. I don’t want her to be scared. I don’t allow time to feel sorry for myself.

  We’re all right today, and that’s all that matters.

  Six

  Aaron

  I run into Granite Harbor Grocery for Pete’s premade salami sandwich. He still gives Oceanside Deli a run for their money. I glance at my watch, and it’s half past one in the afternoon. I’ll meet Warden Cameron at the main gate of Megunticook Lake to patrol the lake when I’m done here. Warden Cameron is new to summer, as he was hired on this past fall after completing the academy. It’s June, and temperatures are increasing mid-to upper-seventies, which means more people are on the water. Some making stupid decisions.

  The Staffords enter the store while I’m in line. They wave.

  Mrs. Bradford and her daughter, Sandy, enter the store. Wave.

  Milton Murdock enters as I’m paying. Waves.

  I inhale my sandwich in the Granite Harbor Grocery parking lot before heading over to the lake.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lilly skipping along next to Lydia. Even during the warmer days in Granite Harbor, Lydia always wears longer sleeves, but they’re thin longer sleeves I’ve noticed. Her blonde hair at her shoulders. Her hips, if it’s any testament to the way they move when she walks, are smooth, agile. I can imagine what they’d feel like behind closed doors. With me. Alone. I watch as she and Lilly make their way into the store.

  But coming out is the new veterinarian in town, Dr. Who Gives a Shit, and he stops to talk to Lydia and Lilly.

  The sandwich churns in my stomach. What I want to do right now and what I should do right now are two completely different things.

  1. I get out of my truck, walk over to where they’re talking, and stake my claim.

  But, really, Aaron, what are Lydia and Lilly to you? What claim do you have?

  2. I drive away.

  If you walk over there, Aaron, you’re going to look like a crazy fucking lunatic in uniform.

  If you drive away, you won’t have to worry about what you said and whether or not you looked like a crazy fucking lunatic.

  But what if this is the moment that changes the rest of our lives? Any moment, things could go different ways. What if Lydia decides the good veterinarian—though not as tall as me and his hair looks to be a little thin on the left side—would be a good choice for her and Lilly? But what if I go over there and say something romantic, heroic, and it’s a moment that Lydia and I will reflect on twenty years down the road after we’re married and laugh on it?

  Right before I open my truck door, Lydia and Lilly go about their way, and the veterinarian goes to his truck.

  His hair might be thinning on the right side, too, I note.

  I start my truck and drive to Megunticook Lake with a clenched jaw, not allowing my imagination to get the best of me.

  Pulling into the parking lot, I see Warden Cameron’s truck and park alongside him. He’s already unloaded the Maine Warden Service boat, which we’ll troll the lake in, into the water.

  I grab my backpack and meet him down there.

  Wardens in training get to do the grunt work. When I was new on the force, I had to do it. So did my brother, so did Eli, and so did Ryan. Warden Cameron also has a hideous mustache that we’ve been giving him shit for. He can’t shave it until he’s completed his training. But until then, he looks like Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean. It just looks out of place. Little awful. I’ll be the first to admit, some guys can wear a mustache, and others can’t. Warden Cameron and I are two of those who cannot.

  “Warden Casey, sir.”

  “Warden Cameron,” I say as I climb into the boat, which he’s already steadied.

  We load and launch onto the lake.

  It’s about three in the afternoon, which is a great time to hit the lake. Families are heading back to their camps for the afternoon, the sun is slowly making its descent behind the scenes, and the air smells warm. It’s the part of the day when everything seems to find its place.

  Warden Cameron is driving, and I have my binoculars out. Eli and Warden Lathrop, a newer warden, are scouting in an unmarked boat in another area on the lake. What we’re primarily looking for are people who aren’t following the water laws of Maine. Those operating water vessels while
impaired. That’s one of the biggest issues we have on our lakes in the summertime. People have a few drinks and think it’s all right to operate a boat or a jet ski because they’re on the water, not on the road. We’re looking for fishermen who aren’t wearing life jackets or have no fishing license.

  We hear Warden Lathrop’s voice over the radio. “We’ve got a juvenile driving a boat. Looks like he has adults in the boat with him. South of Barrett’s Cove. Boat is blue with silver stripes. I can’t get the registration number.”

  Warden Cameron slows, turns our boat around, and heads to Barrett’s Cove. “Copy,” he says into the radio.

  We make our way to the cove and pick up our pace.

  The boat comes into view in my binoculars. “You see it?” I call back to Warden Cameron over the boat’s engine.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The boat isn’t speeding, and in fact, the kid is doing a good job at driving. I look through the binoculars. The problem is, he looks like he’s no older than fourteen. Must be his dad sitting in the passenger seat. What looks to be his mom and sister are sitting in the back.

  Once we come into the father’s sights, I see him tense and lean down out of view.

  Warden Cameron flips on the lights once we get behind the boat.

  We pull up on the father’s side.

  I ask the young kid to kill the engine, and he does. Warden Cameron has already put out our bumpers to protect both boats from any damage.

  “There a problem, Warden?” the father asks.

  Beneath his seat, I can see the beer can.

  “How old are you, buddy?” I ask the boy.

  “Thirteen.” He looks at his father.

  “Okay. Can I have your license and registration, sir?” I say to the father.

  He reaches into the glove compartment and grabs his wallet. Hands me his license and the boat registration.

  I hand these documents to Warden Cameron, so he can radio them into dispatch.

  “You know that operation of a water vessel starts at the age of sixteen, right?” I ask the father.

  I see the chip on the father’s shoulder. Reminds me of the arrogant bastard Dubbs was—Warden Ryan Taylor’s father. Just an asshole.

  Larry Beaverton—I glanced at his driver’s license before passing it off to Warden Cameron—sits with an irritating grin. As if he’s above the law. I keep my cool.