“The same night, he’d convince me it was my fault. I’d believe it. And then, the next morning, when the reality of the bruises hit his eyes, shame of the previous night before would meet him on my back, my inner thighs, my breasts—all places I could cover up. He knew he couldn’t hide the fact that he had done this, so the apologies would start. Just like a scene from a play. On cue, on time, and never late. But his words from the night would stay in my mind like a spider’s sticky web, warping my rational thought; those words, I’d cling to, maybe out of justification. That this was my fault and that I had power, choice, and control to change it.”
“You didn’t,” comes out of my mouth before I know it.
Lydia barely smiles. “I’m learning that. Which leads me to you. You have the ability to make me see that love is tender and patient and kind. Love is not sex or putting on a show for others. Love is not trying to pick up the pieces of the ones we love most but instead allowing their hearts to break, remain broken, and walking through it with them. Being there for them every step of the way. Love is soft. Love is showing up for life, even when we don’t want to. And love is the way you look at me, seeing all my baggage, taking my hand, and loving me through it.”
I take her hand from her mouth and hold it against my heart, my bare chest, willing her to believe that it beats for her. In all the years I didn’t know her yet, someone knew, and someone put us in Granite Harbor at exactly the right time. I don’t have to say anything because there aren’t any words that could fulfill the feelings in this moment.
“Lie with me, Lydia.”
Twenty-Seven
Lydia
It’s Sunday, and we’ve just arrived back in Granite Harbor.
Lilly is home, and everything is right as it should be. She and I are cuddling on the couch, and she’s telling a story about her play date with Maddy Sunday.
“She’s changed, Mom. She’s more into dolls than she ever was. She thinks boys are cute now. And her mom lets her wear lipstick.” Her lips pout outright. “Crazy, right?”
“You’re kidding me. Maddy gets to wear lipstick now?” I try to act surprised, pulling her blonde hair back from her eyes.
“Yep. And it’s bright pink.”
“That is crazy,” I say.
“Mommy, I missed you so much. I had fun with Nana and Grandpa, but I really missed you.”
“Oh, baby girl, I missed you so much.” I kiss her forehead.
“Have you seen Shelby?”
“Who?”
“Shelby, my friend from the bookstore.”
“Oh! Shelby, your invisible friend. No, no, I haven’t. Guess she knew you had gone to Nana’s.”
“Before I left, she said that she’d be in your heart and told me not to worry.”
“Worry? Baby, why would you worry about me? I’m just fine.” And why on earth would Shelby be in my heart? But I don’t say this out loud.
Lilly shrugs. “I dunno. My tummy didn’t feel good on Saturday about you.”
Oh my goodness. Could she have felt my heartache when I talked with Aaron about Brett?
Lilly’s always been a very perceptive kid. We’ve always had a bond that I can’t explain in words but only feel. It isn’t the bond that I had with my mom, although our bond is strong. Lilly is able to feel my feelings when I feel them. Even if we are a state away.
“I am just fine, baby; don’t worry about me.”
“Okay, Mommy.” She toys with the drawstrings on my shirt. “Will I get to see Aaron tonight? I got him something.”
“You did? When did you do that?”
“When Nana and I went to the beach.”
“Well”—I hand her our cordless house phone—“you can call him and see if he’s available.”
“Really?” Her eyes brighten.
I help her with the phone number as my cell phone begins to buzz across the coffee table. While Lilly waits for Aaron to pick up, I pick up my phone. On the caller ID, it reads, Ohio Department of Rehabilitation and Corrections.
Fear paralyzes my finger from hitting the gigantic target on my phone to answer.
But, as my eyes reach Lilly laughing into the phone, I know why I need to pick up. Fear can be sneaky. It can disguise itself throughout many facets of our lives, but I won’t let fear of people keep me from doing right by my daughter.
“Hello?” My tone is cold. Tough, I think.
“Hello, Lydia. Robert Black from the Ohio Department of Rehabilitation and Corrections.”
“Hello, Mr. Black.”
“I’m so sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I-I was on vacation and forgot to change my voice mail message. I can give you my cell phone number in case you need to reach me and can’t get ahold of me at the office. I’m always here, but sometimes, I’m not.”
Clearly, I want to say but hold my tongue. Instead, I take down the number.
“Listen”—he pushes it out, as if it’s forced—“I-I really don’t know how to begin this, nor do I know what to say, where the mistake was made …” He sighs.
“Out with it, Mr. Black,” I say as terror knocks me on my back like an old friend. Anxiousness builds in my organs, starting in my heart, making me breathe faster, making my head spin.
“I … I’m not sure where the miscommunication happened—and don’t worry; I’m working on that—but Brett Lancaster was released two weeks ago.”
A letter, I think. I was supposed to receive a letter or some sort of communication, notifying me of his release.
But I didn’t.
I don’t say anything. I can’t find the right words.
“Lydia, are you still there?”
I try to speak, but I can’t. Try to get my mind to put a sentence together, but the words fall short. Or my brain falls short because of the information just collected.
“I—when did you say?”
The low buzz in the phone takes hold of my focus, which has now become an incessant buzzing sound. But it’s nothing.
It’s fear, Lydia.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Two weeks ago—June 15. Did his parole officer not call you yet?”
I walk to the calendar. It’s July 1. That’s a lot of days he could have done a lot of things. He could have done research to find us. He could be ten steps ahead of me. He could be on his way here now because maybe, just maybe, he tracked us down.
I pull back the stiff white curtains and look down on Main Street. The quiet of nightfall descends. I let the curtains fall back to their rightful place.
“I don’t know,” I whisper to myself, now pacing in my living room.
“Lydia?” I hear.
But I’m not sure if it’s Mr. Black or not, but it sounds like Aaron. I look back toward the kitchen, and Aaron is holding Lilly just the way Brett used to. Casually, I let the phone fall from my ear. My eyes fall to my daughter cradled in Aaron’s arms. If Lilly feels my fear between miles apart, she feels it now.
“Mommy, what’s wrong?”
Aaron sets Lilly down. “Hey, why don’t we get you in the bath real quick, and Mom and I will start dinner?”
Mom and I. Not your mom and I. Mom and I.
Lilly is hesitant, and I see this.
“It’s okay, baby. Come on,” I say, more on instinct.
“I got it,” Aaron says, reaching for my hand. “Stay here.”
So, I do.
He starts Lilly’s bath as Lilly goes to her room and shuts the door.
She comes out in a robe and plods down to the bathroom but not before turning and giving me a look. Her lip out. “Love you, Mommy.”
“Love you. I’m right here.”
And Lilly disappears around the wall to the bathtub.
Aaron takes me by the hand and leads me to the dining room table. “What’s going on?” His voice isn’t soft or full of love, as it usually is. It’s hard and authoritative. Like his work voice.
But I don’t need soft and gentle right now.
“Brett was released from
prison.”
“What?”
“They released him two weeks ago—June 15.”
“And nobody called you? No communication? No letter?” he asks.
I shake my head. Bite my cheek. Stare at him. “Not … not that I know of. Oh, God, Aaron. Did I miss it somehow? You know Leonard sometimes screws up the mail.” Panic rises in my voice.
“Don’t worry, Lyd. You and Lilly will be safe, okay? Don’t you worry.” Aaron reaches across the table and takes my hands in his. “I will keep you both safe. Maybe … maybe he’s moved on. Maybe he learned what he had done was wrong.”
I nod my head, willing myself to believe this. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Hope and despair display their vulnerability out for me to see. “Right? That happens. People learn their lessons, right? Start to do good after that?”
Lilly calls out, “Mommy, can you wash my hair?”
I stand. “On my way,” I call back to her.
“This will all be okay, Lyd. I’ll run downstairs and grab something to go from Oceanside Deli. You get Lilly out of the bath. Don’t worry; we’re going to figure this out.”
I nod from the hallway. For the first time in a long time, I believe what Aaron is telling me.
Everything will be okay. Right?
I wash Lilly’s hair and get her out of the bath. She gets dressed in her pajamas, and Aaron comes back up with sandwiches.
“I didn’t know what Lilly liked, so I bought seven sandwiches just in case.”
Relief with his return has me almost laughing. “Eight?” I walk to the counter and scan through the black titles scribbled across the white parchment paper that the sandwiches sit in. “Turkey. Salami. Crab. Veggie. Nutella and jelly? I didn’t know they had that.” I look at Aaron.
“Another vegetarian option.”
“Huh. Ham. Tuna.”
“Can I have the veggie?” I hear Lilly call out from the living room.
Aaron looks to me, and his lip pulls up. “Over Nutella and jelly?”
“She read somewhere that certain jellies were given to mice first. Something about the sugar levels. Since then, she won’t eat it,” I say.
“Fascinating.”
“Thank you.” I grab Lilly’s sandwich, kiss him on the cheek, and put the sandwich on a plate. I look up at him. “This was really sweet of you.”
Aaron takes the plate from me, walks it into the living room, and gives it to Lilly.
“Thanks, Aaron.” I hear Lilly say.
I stare down at the dated countertop.
“Look, Lydia. I’m in this for the long haul. I won’t let him hurt you or Lilly ever again,” Aaron whispers when he comes back into the kitchen.
I feel his hands slide over my shoulders, feel his lips against my neck—not in a sexual way, but in a way that reminds me of when I was a child. When Mom cooked dinner and Dad watched the evening news and everything had a piece of time and space in the world. Before my heart surgery, before my mother’s alcoholism, before I knew what heartbreak felt like.
“I know,” I say. “But that’s not my worst fear,” I whisper, listening to Lilly laugh on the couch at the television. “My worst fear isn’t getting hurt; my worst fear is not being able to protect my daughter from him. That’s her father.” And the words get caught in my throat, creating a lump that lies sideways.
“You think he’ll fight for custody?” Aaron asks.
“Brett’s a smart man. If he wants to see his daughter again, he will.”
“He’s also never messed with a Casey brother before.” His hands rest on either side of the counter. With my back to him, he kisses my shoulder now.
“Mom, Aaron, you have to come see this little dog on TV. He’s so cute!” Lilly says.
Aaron removes his hands, kisses my shoulder for a third time, grabs a sandwich and a paper plate, and heads to the living room. I follow suit, and before I sit down, I watch Aaron next to Lilly. I watch Lilly as she rests her head on Aaron’s shoulder.
“Know what, Aaron?” she asks as they both stare at the television.
“What?”
“I’m really glad my mommy likes you. One time, I heard her talking in her sleep and heard her say your name.” She plays with a button on Aaron’s shirt. “That’s when I knew Mommy loved you.”
I want to intervene due to my wee bit of embarrassment, but I don’t, and tears want to spill over as I watch her interact with him.
He leans back. Looks at her. “When was that?”
“When we first moved here.”
Aaron looks over at me. Taps the spot next to him. “Want to know a secret?” he asks Lilly as she watches the television.
“Yeah,” Lilly says, looking at me now.
“I loved her then, too.”
Twenty-Eight
Aaron
One Week Later
“I’m nervous,” Lydia whispers to me as we walk down my parents’ walkway that leads to their house, moving the small plant into the crook of her arm, which she insisted on bringing for my mother.
“You never go empty-handed to the house of someone who’s invited you for dinner,” she told me yesterday.
“Why can’t we all be like Lilly?” she asks as we watch her skip down the walkway, singing to herself.
“There’s no need to be nervous, Lyd.”
She looks at me. Her hand in mine.
“Besides, it’s just dinner.”
“Dinner as … you know …” She extends her hand in hopes that I’ll finish the sentence, but really, I just want to hear her say it.
“As what?” I bait and smirk, pulling her to my chest.
Lydia rolls her eyes and smiles. “As boyfriend and girlfriend, okay?”
I laugh.
She laughs.
And my mother, Helen, answers the door, giving Lilly a big hug. “There she is!” she says. “I’ve got cookies inside with your name on them, Lilly.”
Lilly looks back at Lydia. “Can I, Mom? Before dinner?”
Nobody in the history of cookie-eaters in Granite Harbor has ever turned down a Casey cookie made by Helen. Regardless of dinner timelines or not. If you’re offered one, you take it. Lydia knows this.
“Of course,” Lydia starts to say, but Lilly is inside quicker than Lydia’s words.
Lydia hands the plant to my mother.
“Oh, honey, you shouldn’t have. But it sure is beautiful. So good to see you guys,” my mom says as she pulls Lydia in for a hug.
I give my mother a hug and kiss on the cheek, as if she lived a thousand miles away when, really, it’s just a block, but I don’t get over here as often as I should anymore.
“Ethan and Bryce are on their way. Bryce said she’s about ready to deliver this baby herself. Come on in.” My mom leads the way inside.
My dad is in the kitchen with Lilly. “A cookie a day keeps the doctor away,” he says to Lilly.
She giggles, taking another bite of her cookie.
Dad stands to hug both of us. “So good to see you, Lydia.”
“You as well, Bill.”
My dad hugs me. “Son, you look younger. Thinner?” He chuckles.
The front door opens, and Ethan comes in first. “Sorry we’re late.”
Ethan’s hand is attached to Bryce’s as she lumbers behind him, pregnant as can be. She hugs Lilly first and then the rest of us.
Lilly says, “I can’t wait to meet him.”
Bryce looks down at Lilly. “So, you think he’s a boy, huh?”
They haven’t found out the gender. They say they’re waiting.
“I know it’s a boy. Shelby told me. Said the big pregnant lady is having a boy, but shh …” She motions her index finger to her lips.
Lydia leans in and whispers, “Shelby is Lilly’s make-believe friend from the bookstore.”
“Ah,” Helen says. “One of the boys had the same thing. I can’t remember which. Hell, I had a hard time telling them apart when they were babies. Even though they’re not identical. Dinner’s a
lmost ready.”
“Go wash up, Lil,” Lydia says to Lilly.
“Come on. I’ll go with you, Lilly.” Bryce reaches out for her hand, and Lilly takes it. “Aunt Skittle Pants, why are your cheeks so puffy?”
Bryce laughs out loud, and it takes her a minute to recover from the laughter.
I lean over to Lydia. “Aunt Skittle Pants?”
Lydia laughs, and I see the joy in her eyes as she watches her daughter with Aunt Skittle Pants.
“Yeah, she started calling her that a few days before she went to my mom’s house for the weekend. Bryce brought in a bag of Skittles for Lilly, and Lilly, being Lilly, started calling her that.”
We both laugh and realize that Bryce has become really quiet.
“Ooh … oh, boy. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch,” Bryce says.
“Aunt Skittle Pants?” Lilly asks, looking at Bryce. “Are you all right?”
“I think—I think we have a baby coming.”
Ethan jumps into action.
“Help me get her into the car,” Ethan says to me as we walk over to Bryce.
“For the love of God, you guys, I’m having a baby. I can walk, for Christ’s sake,” Bryce says as she turns around, bracing herself with the doorway.
Mom and Dad are frozen, and Lilly is back at the table, eating her cookie. “So, how does all this work?” Lilly asks. “Does the baby come shooting out of her belly or what?” She takes another bite of cookie.
My eyebrows rise as I look to Lydia.
She shrugs. “Yep, babe. That’s exactly what happens.”
Ethan opens the door as Lydia and I help Bryce out to the truck.
But Bryce stops at the front doorway and bends over. “Ouch. Ouch! Ouch!”
“Mom, call Dr. Phillips at the hospital,” Ethan says, but she’s already on the phone.
“Dr. Phillips, we’re on our way. Bryce is ready to deliver.” She covers the phone and says to Lydia, “How far apart are the contractions?”
“So far, about five minutes apart,” Lydia says.
“I’ll take Lilly with us,” my mom says.
“Thanks, Helen,” Lydia says as she and I get Bryce into Ethan’s truck. “We’ll meet you there.”
“Good luck, Aunt Skittle Pants!” Lilly calls out.
Lilies on Main (The Granite Harbor Series Book 4) Page 19
