Lilies on Main (The Granite Harbor Series Book 4)

by J. Lynn Bailey

  The sigh. Again. I smile. He knows.

  “Just so you know, I’m not going to be gentle tonight, Lydia.”

  “I know.” I try to control the quiver in my voice, but when his fingers apply the perfect amount of pressure, I gasp for air.

  He slides two inside.

  “Aaron,” I quietly call out.

  “First, I just want to watch you.” He removes his fingers from inside me and thrusts my leg to the side, so he’s between my legs. He gets down on his stomach. He pushes his mouth toward my middle and madly drives his tongue against me as my body shutters against his mouth. Not taking his time, his tongue moves the length of my folds and then stays focused on the top part that makes me grab his head and rock my head against the pillow.

  I watch.

  Watching him take me in his mouth, watching my hips against his tongue. His eyes wild, he stares back.

  But this feels too good, and I suck in my bottom lip.

  “Aaron,” I pant. “Not yet.”

  But he ignores my request. He takes his tongue, using the tip, and shoves it down on me.

  “Aaron!” I whisper. I hiss and buck against his mouth, my body shakes, wanting to reach my place now but holding out because I want to watch him get what he needs.

  “Stop,” I say and try to close my legs.

  Finally, he stops. I pull his mouth to mine and take in what our bodies have created. Our mouths move in such a way that’s succinct and measured but also needed and uncontrollable.

  His middle lands at the gates of mine. I feel the hardness of him and the ache radiating through his body. His need is felt in his kiss.

  “I need you inside me, Aaron.”

  And, with that, he slides inside me. He’s done an excellent job of keeping me stretched every night, so when he slides in, I’m relaxed, and he fills every single void I have.

  He pumps inside me as I watch him watching me.

  Aaron’s face contorts like he’s reaching a climax too soon. He pulls out. Pants. Waits.

  I pull us both down to the mattress. I slip my shirt off over my head and toss it on the floor.

  Aaron is already fully naked.

  I climb on top of him and watch him as I push him inside me.

  Aaron closes his eyes. “Game over, baby.”

  I rock once. Twice. Three times.

  He takes what’s his, putting my nipple in his mouth first.

  I call out.

  He puts his hands around my breasts.

  I rock.

  He bites down.

  I move faster.

  Stars start to align themselves.

  But I watch as he takes a breast in his mouth. He probes, sucks, flicks, and I almost lose it.

  As if I were a feather, he lifts me from him, moves me to the spot where he was, and takes me from behind, quickly entering me.

  Usually, when I was ordered to have sex with Brett, it was missionary. And the men I’d been with before—few and far between—were always polite, never rude, and always missionary. So, when Aaron takes me in this position, I grab the headboard.

  The stars form again, and I wonder why I’ve never done it like this before.

  Aaron plunges against me and then reaches around, using his fingers, pushing them to the top of my folds.

  “Aaron!” I quietly call out so as not to wake Lilly.

  But the stars get brighter, and everything else gets darker.

  But the feeling isn’t comparable to anything, except my last orgasm with Aaron. How he makes me reach these places, I have no idea.

  An explosion of color.

  My body shudders against his, and I lose my grip on the headboard.

  “Fuck!” he whispers against my back. Then, his body collapses.

  We both move and fall against each other in bed. Fighting for air and clarity, we lie here in the dark, our hearts pounding against each other and for each other.

  After a few moments, I feel his lips against my head.

  “Lydia, are you still awake?”

  “Yes.”

  He pulls me in closer, my naked body against his side.

  Aaron laughs quietly.

  “What?”

  He giggles now.

  I pull my head up to look at the direction where his face is, but it’s too dark to see. Only when he laughs do I see his teeth.

  “God, your body, your breasts just sitting on my chest. It’s a wonder we can ever get anything done.”

  I giggle, too. Allow my head to fall down, back in the crook of his armpit. I listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

  It’s quiet for a long time. We lie here, enjoying the silence and the darkness.

  “Lyd?”

  “Yeah?”

  He strokes my hair. “I want to adopt Lilly.”

  The grin on my face can only be seen by the darkness. And, if the daylight saw it, it’d call on it, too—for it to appear and spread light, the light I feel inside at this very moment.

  “She’d like that, Aaron. I’d like that.”

  “I need to talk to you about something else.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Sarah.”

  Since Aaron told me about Sarah, I wouldn’t say I’m jealous. I’d say I wonder about the curiosity that Aaron might have if things had worked out otherwise. If Charlotte hadn’t died. If Sarah hadn’t gone into a home. If she’d grieved differently. Would things have worked out with us?

  “For a long time, I thought about all the scenarios of Sarah’s life, your life, my life, our life together, of how it might have been changed if things hadn’t happened the way they did. Things that were out of our control. Things we had no power over. If Charlotte hadn’t died, Sarah wouldn’t have had this huge change in her life. Right?”

  I nod.

  “And if …” He pauses, being cautious of my feelings.

  “It’s okay, Aaron. Go ahead.”

  “If Brett hadn’t … you know …” He can’t bring himself to say it.

  “Hurt me.”

  “Yeah, and if you didn’t have the courage to leave, things could have been so different for all of us.”

  I think of this. All the players. The factors. The measured moments, the defining ones. The times of clarity when all the signs pointed to the door and I gave every excuse as to why I shouldn’t leave.

  “But then I wouldn’t—we wouldn’t have Lilly.”

  “Exactly. So, amid all the heartbreak comes beauty, right? What happens in life isn’t the outcome, but what we do with the situations, that can become our destiny.”

  He’s right. I think about the situations in my life, in Lilly’s life, that we’ve been presented with. Alcoholism. Death. Abuse. Violence. What we’ve done to get to where we are today. These are our greatest assets in life.

  “I used to wonder how Lilly and I got so lucky with you, but now, I know. It’s not luck. It’s a lot of dead ends that we didn’t find you on accident. I think that’s all part of the bigger plan.”

  “For the record, you and Lilly are my greatest finds.” He kisses his spot on my neck.

  “Also, I think I’d like to keep the name Lydia. It’s grown on me.” I smile into his side, and I kiss his chest.

  “I love you, Lydia. I’ll call you anything you want me to. Follow you anywhere. I just need to be with you.”

  The spring peepers all of a sudden come alive outside, as if putting on a full concert for us. They find a rhythm.

  “Aaron, can I ask you something?” I say.

  “Yeah.” He takes the strands of my hair and pulls his fingers through them.

  “When we started to sink in the ocean that night, I thrashed and fought as hard as I could to get out. When the police asked me how I’d ended up on top of the edge of the cliff that we’d plunged off of, soaking wet, I didn’t answer their question because I wasn’t sure of anything. Thought I had gone crazy maybe.” I pause. “But—and I know how weird this sounds; I do—it was William and Shelby. They pulled me from the
sinking truck. All I remember is their faces. They pulled me from the truck, and that’s it.” The words drift from my mouth as I replay the memory in my head, hoping I don’t sound as crazy as I think I do.

  Through his chest, I feel Aaron’s heart start to pound.

  I pull my head up to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

  Aaron shakes his head, smiles, and pushes a mouthful of air out. “As we tracked you with the app”—he laughs—“this is crazy. I didn’t know William had passed away. But, anyway, I saw William and a little girl on the side of the road. They were soaking wet, and they were as real as day. Like you or me. They were so real. Anyway, I pulled over and ran to him and the little girl. At the time, I should have asked more questions. But all I kept thinking about was you and your safety. I got them situated in the truck with blankets. Told them to stay put. And then Ryan, Eli, Ethan, and I headed down the steep terrain where we found you.”

  At this point, I’m sitting up, a sheet pulled over my naked body, living on Aaron’s every word. “You saw him, too?” I whisper in disbelief.

  “Yeah. And the odd thing was, the guys didn’t see William or the little girl. Thought I was in shock. They just saw me walking from the side of the road and back to the truck.”

  “Shelby.”

  “What?”

  “The little girl with William, that was his daughter Shelby. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I don’t know. With everything that’s happened, I guess it just slipped my mind.”

  Aaron reaches out and touches my arm. “I’m not following. Tell me what?”

  “Shelby. The heart.” I point to my scar.

  “The what?”

  “My heart transplant. When I was six. It came from Shelby. William’s daughter.”

  Aaron sits up. Stares at me dead in the eyes with disbelief.

  The spring peepers sing.

  “You’re going to have to explain this one slowly to me. I’ve got all night.”

  Aaron holds his arms out and moves me to his chest once again, and I tell him the story about a six-year-old little girl whose heart was losing momentum.

  Forty

  Lydia

  Two Weeks Later

  “You look like the tenacious, sassy six-year-old I saw being wheeled into the operating room all those years ago,” my dad, Lee, says as he walks up behind me.

  He touches my bare shoulders. The ones left exposed. Something I never would have done just six months ago. The same shoulders that have scars on them. One just above my shoulder blade, one just below my collarbone, and one more where my neck ends and my shoulder begins. Scars that have helped shape who I’ve become. Someone I can finally look in the mirror at while naked and not run away in fear.

  The white dress is slim, fitting, and simple. A few pearls cascade down the back. No train. No rhinestones.

  My dad moves his hand over mine so that we’re holding hands, staring back at each other in the mirror. “The same little girl who played in the lily fields with a newfound life.”

  After my mother got sober, he moved to the background again. Coming when needed. When called upon. Not a day in my life has my father ever not been there for me. Especially on this day.

  “You look like a beautiful angel.” His voice breaks. His eyes grow red, and a single tear falls down his cheek.

  “Please don’t, Daddy. You’ll make me cry.”

  I turn to him. “Thank you for being an amazing father. Thank you for being an amazing grandfather to Lilly. And thank you for allowing Aaron to take on that role.” I squeeze his hand.

  He holds his fist over his mouth for a moment, for fear of more tears maybe. “You’ll always be my little girl, baby. Always.”

  “I know.”

  The music starts, and it’s our cue to begin the wedding ceremony.

  My dad takes both of my hands in his. Kisses them. “I love you, Lydia. And I am so proud of the woman, mother, and soon-to-be wife that you are. Now, here’s to a new beginning, one you’ve been waiting for and deserve. Aaron is a good man.”

  And, with that, the French doors to the outside cottage of the Harbor Inn open, and my mom is standing there, waiting for us to walk down the aisle together. The three of us.

  Katherine, the chaplain of the Maine Warden Service, stands there with Aaron and our daughter, Lilly.

  I take a step out into the warm summer sun and feel it against my back. Leaving the darkness behind, I continue to step toward my future with Aaron and Lilly.

  I step forward with bravery, courage, and strength. After all, if I expect my daughter to do the same, I must lead by example. And my hopes for her are many, but one of the hopes is this: I hope she finds a person who she can find herself in. More importantly, I hope she finds happiness, wholeness, and courage.

  Epilogue

  Lydia

  One Year Later

  “We are gathered here today not to mourn the loss of Ida but to remember the strong woman she was,” Pastor Paul says.

  Ryan leans over to Merit. “This is so stupid.”

  Merit gives him the stink-eye as she rocks Hope in her arms, who’s fast asleep.

  I smile and look at Aaron. Lilly is up in the front with Helen and Bill, near Ruthie and Milton.

  “She would have wanted us not to be sorrowful, but instead full of love and fond memories.”

  Ida’s prepurchased casket is up front and behind Pastor Paul.

  Eli, who’s left of us, holds Noah, who wiggles in his arms, while Emily sits nicely next to Alex. Emily reminds me a lot of Lilly when she was that age.

  “How in the hell did Ruthie let Ida get away with this?” Aaron whispers in my ear.

  “Just roll with it,” I whisper back.

  Ida sits up from her casket. “Pastor Paul, you’re gonna have to make this shit a little more believable if you want to get the money I’m paying you for this.”

  “Ida, I do this for free. I’m a pastor. That’s what we do.”

  “My ass. Now, let’s get on with this. My shows come on at three.”

  The whole crowd erupts in laughter.

  But Ida’s not laughing.

  Ruthie isn’t either. She’s fed up. “Mother, come on. This is enough! Your expectations of everyone to show up for your fake funeral are utterly ridiculous. Now, stop it this instant.” Ruthie stomps her foot.

  When Ruthie Murdock stomps her foot, even the good Lord himself knows she’s mad.

  Ida crosses her arms like a child. “No.”

  “Then, lie back down and shut up! Oh—” Ruthie covers her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Pastor Paul. I’m so sorry for using unkind words in the house of the Lord.”

  Pastor Paul nods again, trying not to smile. He’s the new pastor in town and the only one who doesn’t know Ida too well. So, when he took on this little endeavor, he had no idea what he was getting into. He looks down at his Bible, searching for a verse.

  “Sorry we’re late.” I hear Bryce whisper in my ear as she and Ethan take the spot behind me.

  Ryker, Bryce’s brother, and Audrey, William’s daughter, are behind them. They’ve been seen together in town, but nothing’s been made official yet. I have to say, I really like having Audrey here in Granite Harbor. And I know, when she sits in William’s chair to read the next book I’ve recommended, that William, Elena, and Shelby are close by, too.

  “Don’t think I didn’t see you, Ethan and Bryce Casey, coming in late,” Ida calls from her coffin.

  “Please, Pastor Paul”—Ruthie has her fingers on her forehead, head down—“just continue.”

  “You’re outta the will, Ethan,” Ida says. “Only those who were on time make the will.”

  “But, Ida, I didn’t think we were in the will to begin with,” Ethan says.

  “Mom! That’s it.” Ruthie stands. “Excuse me, Pastor Paul.” Ruthie walks to Ida’s coffin onstage. “Get out, Mom. We’re going home. I can’t believe you manipulated me into doing this for you. All this crap about feeling you’ll have closure wh
en you die. You haven’t died yet, Mom. And, when you do, I’m sure as hell—heck”—Ruthie looks to Pastor Paul and then turns back to Ida—“that you’ll see us all from your perch in heaven that God made you. Now, get out.”

  Ruthie’s cold stare could clear a church. And it does.

  We pile out of the First Christian Church quicker than you can say, Lilly Casey.

  Ryan is shaking his head as Merit rolls her eyes.

  “Come on. Ida’s, like, eighty-seven years old, Ry. Give her a break,” Merit says.

  He wraps his arm around his wife. “Anything for you.” He kisses her on the cheek.

  Emily, Lilly, Noah, and Hope play on the stairs.

  Unconditional love is what children give us, give each other.

  I look at our friends, who are now gathered around.

  Ethan and Bryce come out with baby Parker, who’s now just over a year old.

  Aaron takes my hand and softly kisses it, reminding me that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere.

  “All right, who’s ready to get their butts kicked in this year’s annual Casey/Taylor/Young Family Softball Game?” Ryan says, pretending to swing a bat.

  “In your dreams, Taylor,” Eli says, and we all laugh.

  We walk across the street to the park as a family, a unit, knowing, no matter which way the wind blows, that nobody can break the bonds of friendship. And there’s something magical about Granite Harbor. I can’t explain it.

  Sadly, Ida passes away two weeks later in her sleep. And you know what? The whole town shows up. You see, Ida made a big impact on our sweet little town. One thing is for sure; it takes a special person to shut down our town, and Ida was certainly one.

  If you do manage to make it to our quiet piece of heaven, I hope you’ll stop in to Rain All Day Books and spend time in William’s reading chair. If you’d like to know how Standing Sideways ends, snag a copy while you’re here. I hope you grab the Alli burger at Oceanside Deli and meet Alex and Eli. Visit with Rick at Ring’s Pharmacy and see Ryan and Merit. Have coffee with Ethan and Bryce at Level Grounds Coffee Shop.

  Don’t worry; we’ll always have a room waiting for you at the Harbor Inn.