Lilies on Main (The Granite Harbor Series Book 4)

by J. Lynn Bailey

  “Mother!” My face grows red. “It’s nothing. He’s an acquaintance. That’s all.”

  My mom shakes her head and smiles. “An acquaintance isn’t someone you lip-lock with out front, is it?”

  I bite my lip hard to keep from smiling as I stare down at the paper. My face a bright tomato red.

  “Anyway, when’s your appointment to get the stitches out?” She switches gears, her eyes falling to my wrist.

  “Monday. I’ll just go down to Dr. Phillips here in town.”

  “When do you get the results?”

  “Next week.” My gut turns, and the feelings of the kiss last night disappear. The Cinderella story, the woman who finally gets her prince, is gone. I feel selfish for even entertaining the idea, allowing it space in my head, when I should be focused on my daughter.

  “Did you get the blood work?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “Mom! Would you stop? I know how to handle this, okay? This isn’t my first appointment. It keeps coming back. I’m well aware, and I’ve been dealing with it like an adult, as I should be. I’m not ten years old anymore.”

  There’s a long silence.

  My mom isn’t easily offended. During her drinking years though, she’d turn on a dime, but in all the time she’s been sober, she has not lashed out again. Addiction turns people into something they’re not. It makes the beautiful ugly. The truth a lie. The burden more. It makes the pain sad. It strips away the person to nothing but skin and bones. Their dignity, their pride, their smile are lost in their last drink, their last line, and they can’t seem to dig themselves out, no matter how hard they might try. Good decisions become unthinkable. The new pair of glasses they wear are tainted, dirty, out of focus, and their perception of reality is somehow lost between what is wrong and what is broken. They believe only what their addiction tells them to be true.

  But I know why she’s asking all the questions, and I guess I would, too, if it were Lilly.

  “Baby, I’m sorry. I’m here when you need me.” She reaches across the table and folds her hand into mine.

  For a moment, as if I were a little girl again, the fear subsides, and I give her hand a squeeze. “Thanks for being here.”

  Her green eyes, not the shade of crystal but emerald almost, are intent. The eyes of pain. Suffering. The eyes of truth. Beauty. Wisdom. After twenty-two years of sobriety, her eyes are no longer hooded in darkness because of the past.

  When she made her amends to the fifteen-year-old me, she said, “I can’t change the past, baby girl. But I can change today.”

  That was so profound to me. Simple. Yet profound. And I clung to that. Every time I smelled her breath after she got sober, waiting for the smell of stale booze that never resurfaced. Every time I watched her footing down the hallway, just waiting for her to fall. I second-guessed everything she did. What came out of her mouth.

  “I’ll go wash Lilly’s hair,” I say. I take my mom’s hand and kiss the top of it.

  “No, you go get ready for work. I’ll go wash it.”

  I smile. “You sure?”

  “Yes.” She smiles.

  I flip the television on in the living room on my way back to my room for background noise. Background noises eliminate the silence, the thoughts that go through my head, help me to focus on the day at hand and not my doctor appointments, medication, right dosage. It helps me to focus on my time with Lilly. The way her nose crinkles before she begins to laugh. The way she dances when I say, “One piece of candy.”

  But I hear it. The jingle to a St. Jude commercial. The voices.

  “Shit!” I tug my jeans on, hopping on one foot at first, trying to get my leg through.

  I finally run to the living room, but Lilly is already standing there, my mom fumbling with the remote, trying to turn off the television. Standing there in her towel, her sopping wet hair, her eyes full of tears, I walk to her and pull her into my arms as she cries.

  I close my eyes and drop my head. I don’t need background noise anymore, I think to myself. I’ll do something else.

  “It’s not fair, Mommy.” I push her head into me, willing her heartbreak away. “Kids shouldn’t die.”

  “I know, baby. You’re right.”

  I sit on the coffee table, scoop her up, and hold her like I did when she was an infant. She buries her head into my arm. Lilly isn’t the type of girl to feel sorry for herself or others. She’s a girl who’s tenacious, a thinker of change. A forward mover. But this commercial hits her every single time. As a mother, I want to protect her from this. Protect her pure and innocent heart. Some things I can’t change. Her quiet sobs have now become almost nonexistent, but her face, buried in my arm, under her flamingo towel with a hood, has yet to be revealed.

  My mom motions to the hallway, that she’s going to go change.

  I nod.

  Lilly pulls her head back. Her eyes red and brimming with tears. “I need lemons,” she says. “I need to change my plans with Nana, but I still need the day off work.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  She climbs from my arms to a standing position. I see the question in her eyes.

  She bites her lower lip. “Mommy”—her voice wavers, but she gives her best attempt to be strong—“are you going to die?”

  I’m hit by a wave of fear and sadness—not for me, but for her. What we tell our kids to calm their fears, their worries, is a lie I will always tell.

  “Mommy is going to be fine, Lilly. Why would you ask that?”

  “Heard you and Nana talking while I was in the bath.”

  “Baby, I’m going to be just fine. Now, go get dressed.”

  Lilly turns to go but stops. Turns back around. “You’re the best mom in the history of great moms.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. Try to speak, but nod instead. She pads off to her bedroom to change into clothes.

  .

  Ten

  Aaron

  Today is my day off, and I wake up, thinking about Lydia and seeing all the reasons we should be together.

  I’ll march into the bookstore and not leave until I get her to consent to a date.

  No.

  I’ll casually go by the bookstore and ask for a date.

  No.

  I won’t go by the bookstore at all because what if she regrets last night? What if she turns cold toward me like she did before?

  I’ll demand she talk to me then.

  No.

  I’ll jump in the shower right now. Get some coffee. And do what comes next.

  I check my phone before I jump in and scan through a few emails. Pay a few bills online. But I notice a particular email address that looks unfamiliar, off. The subject line reads Lydia and Lilly.

  If you know what’s good for you, champ, you’ll stay away from Lydia and Lilly.

  I stop. Reread the email.

  That’s it. No closing. No name. Just a sentence.

  Champ?

  I could have my friend at the trooper’s station see if we can track down who sent this. But why? Why play into this and give this person the satisfaction of knowing he/she might be getting under my skin? How did they get my email address? It was sent to my personal email address, not my work email.

  I jump in the shower and decide the email isn’t worth my time or my energy. Besides, nothing can keep me away from Lydia and Lilly. Nothing.

  I drink down a cup of coffee. Then, I walk down to Main Street from my house and stop by the post office.

  “Morning, Leonard,” I say as I walk to my post office box.

  “Morning, Warden Casey.”

  After I check my mail, I turn to leave but stop. “What are you doing here on a Saturday?”

  “Oh, well, Eleanor is on her quilting retreat, and I didn’t have much to do at home. So, I’m here.” Leonard shrugs as he sorts through incoming mail.

  Leonard’s the type of guy who, if his wife died, he’d be lost. The type of guy who wouldn’t know what t
o do with himself. He and Eleanor have been together for as long as I can remember. Even my years as a kid. In his late sixties, he’s almost ready to retire. And he’s also the type of guy, it seems, who operates on routines, and retirement is probably a dreaded decision waiting to be made.

  “All right. Well, take care,” I say.

  “You, too, Warden.” He doesn’t look up.

  I walk out to Main Street and feel the warm summer heat upon us. Down the street, I notice Lilly sitting in a chair out front of the bookstore at a small table with a pitcher of lemonade and some cups. A tall umbrella sits over her to protect her from the sun.

  I smile as I make my way down to her table.

  “Hey, Lilly,” I say, tucking my mail underneath my arm.

  “Good afternoon, Warden Casey. Would you like a cup of lemonade?” She pushes her sunglasses up on her face and wrinkles her nose.

  “Absolutely.”

  She takes the pitcher and slowly fills the paper cup. Her little tongue moving from side to side to support the level of concentration this takes. Lilly sets the pitcher down. “That’ll be five dollars.”

  Five dollars? I grab my wallet in my back pocket.

  “I’m raising money for the kids at St. Jude.”

  I put the five-dollar bill back in and pull out a twenty. “That’s a great cause, Lilly.” I hand her the twenty.

  “Thank you.” She pulls out a hot-pink flowery bag from underneath the table. Puts the money inside. “You want some change?”

  “No, thanks. How much have you made so far?”

  “One hundred forty-five dollars.”

  I glance at my watch. It’s just past eleven. “How long have you been out here?”

  “Twenty-two minutes.” She puts the bag back under the table.

  Through the corner of my eye, I see Lydia standing in the doorway of the bookstore. Her arms crossed, she rests her hip on the doorframe. A smile surfaces, as I see the corners of her mouth turned up. I try not to stare at Lydia’s natural beauty. Her porcelain skin and how it glows in the morning sun like fresh linens on the line. Her guarded green eyes that tell you everything will be just fine even if she hasn’t convinced herself of it.

  “Would you like to help, Warden Casey?” Lilly asks, bringing me out of my thoughts. “But, before you agree, you need to know, this is a volunteer position. You won’t be paid for it. And I’d be your boss. I know that’s weird, being that I’m six and you’re old.”

  I smile internally and sit down in the chair next to her but not before giving Lydia a wink that makes my stomach do things I’m not used to. Good things. “You know, Lilly, for six years old, you’re wise beyond your years.”

  “Yeah, I get that a lot. What does that even mean?”

  “Well, it means, you get things about this world that most kids your age don’t.”

  Lilly thinks on it. Quiet for a long moment. She leans in and whispers, “Want to know a secret?”

  “If we’re going to be working together, we can’t have secrets, so yes.”

  “The St. Jude commercials make me cry.” She pauses. “Makes my tummy flip-flop. I don’t know how God can let that happen. My mom said to pray about it.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  She shrugs. Squints up at me beneath her sunglasses.

  “Well, bless your heart, Lilly,” Ruthie says as she and Ida approach the table from across the street.

  Lilly jumps up, runs around the table to Ida, and gives her a big hug. “Hey, Ms. Ida! I’ve got a special glass just for you!”

  Ida squeals and wraps her arms around Lilly.

  “Hey, Ms. Ruthie.” Lilly moves from Ida to Ruthie for a hug.

  “Looks like you’re doing important work, raising money for St. Jude, eh?” Ruthie looks down at Lilly.

  “Yep. I only have eight hundred and thirty-three dollars to go to meet my goal for the day.” Lilly walks back around the table and sits down as I pour the glasses of lemonade for Ida and Ruthie.

  “Warden Casey, how nice of you to help Lilly.” Ida winks. Waggles her eyebrows and looks in the doorway of the bookstore. Probably sees Lydia standing there.

  “Good morning, ladies. Fine morning for a cold glass of lemonade.” I hear Lydia’s voice.

  “Morning, Lydia,” they both say in unison as Ruthie takes two twenties from her wallet and hands them to Lilly.

  Her eyes grow big. She looks at me. “This is double what you gave me, Warden Casey.”

  I smile and shake my head. “But they received double the product. Two glasses of lemonade. I only got one.”

  “It’s for charity, Warden Casey.” Lilly gives me a duh look. “Besides, I can pour you another glass.”

  I laugh. Reach for my wallet again. Lilly will make a great businesswoman one day.

  Ruthie and Ida laugh, sipping their lemonade.

  “Listen, kid. You keep at this. Work hard. You’ll be a millionaire by the time you’re thirty,” Ida says, after taking the last of her lemonade. “And don’t have sex until then either. You don’t want kids gettin’ in the way of that. Got it?”

  “Mother!” Ruthie almost spits out lemonade.

  I laugh.

  “What’s sex?” Lilly asks, squinting, looking up at Ida.

  “It’s when a man and—” Ida starts, but Ruthie grabs Ida’s hand and begins to march down Main Street, mumbling under her breath about loose cannons and foul language.

  “Bye, ladies!” Lilly calls after them. “But, seriously, what’s sex, Warden?”

  Shaking my head, I look back at Lydia. “Ask your mom.”

  We move what’s left from Lilly’s lemonade stand to the inside of the bookstore. I can tell Lilly is exhausted from the sun and all her hard work.

  “Well, what’s the final total, Lilly?” Lydia asks, leaning against the counter, and Gwen, her mother, is standing behind the counter.

  I stand next to Lydia but not too close, resting my hand by her side against the counter.

  “One thousand four hundred and seventy-five dollars. Mom, can you help me mail this tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely.” Lydia bends down so that she’s eye-level with her daughter. “I am so proud of you, Lil.” She takes her daughter’s cheeks in her hands and kisses Lilly’s forehead and then her lips. “I will always love you more,” she whispers in her daughter’s ear.

  Lilly giggles. Looks up at me. “Thanks for your help, Aaron.”

  “Whoa. I’m Aaron now?”

  “Yeah, I’ve decided we can take our relationship to the next level.”

  We all laugh.

  “Come on, kid, let’s eat some dinner,” Gwen says, winking at us. “I don’t need your help, and I’m not making enough dinner for the both of you, so you’ll need to go eat somewhere else. Alone.”

  Before walking upstairs with Gwen, Lilly grabs my leg and hugs it. Looks up at me. “Are you coming back tomorrow?”

  I bend down to get to Lilly’s level. “Well, that depends. Do you want me to come back tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. I really like you. And”—Lilly looks up at her mom—“my mom smiles a lot more when you’re around.”

  I look up at Lydia, who’s turning red.

  “And trust me; I know what that feeling is like. When I see candy, I smile so much that my cheeks hurt.”

  My stomach grows uneasy with the thought that Lydia might shut me out again. “Well, you know what? I smile a lot more when I’m around both of you, too.”

  Lilly cups my cheek. I try not to let my heart melt for this little girl.

  “See you tomorrow, Aaron.” She walks to Gwen and grabs her hand, and they walk upstairs, leaving Lydia and me alone.

  Lydia rests back against the counter, and I come up from my crouched position and stare at Gwen and Lilly until they disappear at the door.

  I’ve never realized how dark it is in the bookstore until now. When the sun sets behind Main Street, the lamps that Lydia has in the store come al
ive. It’s quiet, and right now, I don’t feel like we need to fill the silence with words.

  “Thank you,” Lydia says, staring down at the floor and then up to me, her body open toward me, relaxed. She tugs on her long-sleeved shirt, which is when I notice the stitches.

  “What happened to your arm?” The mark is just above her wrist and can only be seen if you’re paying attention.

  “Small setback.” She tugs on her sleeve and then crosses her arms to hide the cut.

  I don’t push the issue and let it go.

  It’s quiet again.

  “Thank you for spending your day off with Lilly.”

  I take a step closer, resting my back against the counter, next to Lydia. My heart starts to pick up pace. Not because I’m about to kiss her—because I’m not—but because I’m close to her and our arms are touching.

  “Lilly is an amazing little girl.”

  Lydia nods. “I know.” And she smiles as if, somehow, maybe, she thinks she isn’t worthy of her love.

  I don’t ask about a father because it isn’t my business—yet.

  “You want to grab a bite to eat at Merryman’s?” I side-eye her and catch her eyes.

  She bites her lip. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  Merryman’s isn’t packed tonight. It has been a fixture in this town since I was a kid, probably since before I was a kid.

  Lydia and I take our seats by the window.

  “Hey, Lydia. Aaron. Get you two something to drink?” Shannon asks.

  I look at Lydia.

  “I’ll take a glass of the house red, please.”

  Shannon looks at me. “Regular?”

  “That’d be great, Shannon. Thank you.”

  Shannon leaves.

  Lydia opens her menu. Looks at me because I leave my menu on the table.

  “You already know what you want?” Lydia asks.

  “Every time.”

  She smiles. “What do you get?”

  “Fish and chips.” I stare at this beautiful woman across the table from me, wondering how I ever got her to agree to go to dinner with me.

  “You don’t veer from that?”

  “Nope.”

  “Every time?” Lydia is almost in disbelief.