Cam knelt next to her. “What happened?”
“I was born with Poland’s Syndrome.” Her voice was so soft he wasn’t sure he’d heard right.
“You said Poland’s? I don’t know what that is.” He picked up the hand that rested on her lap. “Tell me.”
She pulled her hand from his, wiped her cheeks, and laughed a little. “It’s pretty rare, actually, and affects more boys than girls. I’m lucky, I guess. My case is milder.”
He waited while she continued to compose herself. “Nothing matters to me,” he said. “I’ve come to respect who you are. Nothing will change that.”
“I’m a freak. My own mo-mother said I shouldn’t expect anyone—no, she said no one would want to ma-marry someone like me, so I should learn how to take care of myself.”
Cam leaned over her lap and reached around her to hold her. She let him hold her, even reaching around his shoulders and pressing against him. “I can guess at the main characteristic,” he said. “No breasts? That must have—”
“Just on my left side,” she said quickly. “The chest muscle, or the part that attaches to the breastbone, is missing. I never—I mean, I could have had surgery, I guess, but by the time I… Well, it didn’t seem like it mattered anymore. But if we…you—”
“Lily.” Cam leaned back and stared up at her. He got up and sat next to her and gathered her close. “Stop that. You are who you are. Definitely not a freak.” He swallowed and kissed her temple. “I take that back. Freakishly gorgeous. You kept this inside always? What about boyfriends? You’re too gorgeous to never have had a boyfriend.” He tamped down the bit of rage that flared at a mother who would say such horrible things to a little girl, ruining her self-esteem like that. Kids would be cruel, but what about adults?
“There was one guy,” she mumbled. “In college. He was pre-med.”
“So you thought he could handle it.” Cam stroked her shoulder.
“He couldn’t.” She leaned away, tried to move. “Believe me…” She stopped struggling when he wouldn’t let her go.
“Cam, please, it’s so gross. I don’t want you to be…I don’t want to see that look on your face, too. Soon as I save up, I’ll have reconstructive surgery. Or I guess, in my case, it would be constructive. Then…I mean,” she squirmed. “Well, not only for you…I mean, if you…”
He laughed. “‘What hempen homespuns, dear Rosalind’—or should I call you Puck?”
She pushed him, playfully, while he quoted more. “‘The course of true love never did run smooth!’”
Lily stopped trying to keep her robe closed at her neck. In the gap, he saw the shadow made by the hollow place where the muscle and breast should have protruded into the cloth. Her anguish was real. So was his love. He gathered the material again at her throat, kissed her lips, and pulled her against him as he lay back on the bed. He tucked one arm under his head and wrapped the other around her and listened to her breathe. Everyone had history. Everyone struggled.
“My sister Georgia always told me it’s a sin to be impure.” Her arm tightened around him, and he brought his hand from behind his head to clutch hers. He kissed the palm. “You could probably guess. Our mother is white. Our other sister, Olivia, is lighter-skinned like me. Georgia, though, is very dark, like Dad.”
“Your grandmother wrote about the time your dad brought her—your mom—home.”
He smiled against her temple. “That’s right. What did you think of that?”
“Reverse bigotry. Sort of. It’s been good for me to examine racism from different angles.”
“Georgia is eight years older than me. Sometimes she’d pretend we weren’t related and would make fun of me in front of her friends.”
“So cruel,” Lily whispered. “You probably don’t speak to each other much.”
“On the contrary. We get along pretty well. She defended me during my trial. Came up from Texas, supported me. She’s the one who brought Grandma’s diaries and told me to write the book.”
“Things worked out, then.”
“Do you want to know more about the trial?”
“Later. I’d rather hear about your girlfriends.”
He went still. Was he ready?
“Cam?”
“I was engaged. Her name was Laura Betthews.”
Lily sighed. “Your sister said something about the Betthews not being a family anymore.”
“Right.” His throat closed up.
Lily stroked his cheek. “How pretty was she?”
He swallowed. “She was amazing. And smart. She taught math.”
“Amazing?”
Cam let his lips turn up at the hint of jealousy. “Don’t you want me to tell you what happened?” he asked instead.
“I guess.”
“She was killed in a deer-car crash.”
“I’m so sorry. Oh, how awful.” Lily sat up.
He pulled her back beside him. “It was. But you know, I figured if it had to happen at all, it was good it happened before the trial so she was spared the ugliness. There. Now you have it.”
“No wonder you ran and hid. You had a boatload of trouble.”
“Yeah. So, now what do you think about me?”
“What about you?”
“You have your issues, I have mine. I am, after all, a person of color.”
She nuzzled her nose against his throat. “Hmm, yeah, I guess I do find you rather colorful.”
“If you associate with me, what will your friends say? Your family? You heard what your nephew said. Most of the people around here seem to feel the same way.” Cam had to make her face it. He didn’t want their relationship to crash and burn if they could help it. He wasn’t positive she felt the same way about him, but if he even had a hope, she had to understand what being with someone of mixed race meant. What it might mean in the future.
“My real friends, people like Sven and Ole, and maybe Matt, although I don’t really know him well, but he’s your friend—they don’t seem to have a problem. I sure don’t have a problem. I can’t imagine how you felt when your sister—your own sister—said that to you, about being impure. What did your mother do? Wash her mouth out with soap?”
“I imagine your sister and mother did the same thing to you.”
“So, like, what? We’re the walking wounded? We have so much in common we belong together? Do you have a problem associating—” she said associating with a pedantic emphasis, “with someone physically…impaired? Fre—”
He cut off the last word with a kiss. “I’m still not letting you go out in the woods to Findley’s place alone.”
“I won’t be alone. And after that?”
“You’re thinking there’s an ‘after’?”
She touched his cheek and lifted herself to stare into his eyes. “Yes.”
“I do need an editor. Know anyone?”
“Yes. And after that?”
“I have a dream… Not to dis Doctor King, but I’ve been thinking of a way to make my dream come true and help out the local newspaper guy. A woman with your editorial talents will fit right in at our new publishing company.”
“Tell me more!”
He loved the excitement that shone from those eyes. “It’s late. We can talk more tomorrow.”
Lily squinted at the clock. “It’s tomorrow already.”
Yawning, Cam rolled away and sat up. “We’ve been together for over a week now. I suppose I should ask you out before I propose.”
Lily accompanied him to the connecting door, her arm around his waist. “Well, a girl does like a little romance now and then.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “‘You say you’ll marry me, if I be willing?’”
He cocked his head, puzzled.
“Seriously? Rosalind says that—”
“Okay, got me again! As You Like It. I had no idea you were that familiar with Shakespeare.”
“I’m not. I read the play while you were gone that first time. I memorized a few lines, that’s all.”
“A few?”
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“Well, there wasn’t much else to do. Until I found your manuscript.” She blushed. “Not that I think you truly proposed, or anything. We only met a few days ago.”
At the door he halted. “Hmm. I still don’t want—”
She held her fingers to his lips. “I have to take care of Kenny first. Bury my ratfink stepbrother. Find my sister. And see my father. Afterward.”
FIFTY-SIX
Friday, December 22
In the morning, Lily wandered to the breakfast bar. She took a deep breath and then calmly asked Cam’s sister if she could sit. Georgia nodded, raising an eyebrow at Deegan, who hovered. Lily grinned at the sight of secret-spy sunnies hanging from his coat pocket.
Head cocked, Lily studied Georgia. She and Cam had the same nose, but Lily looked deep, past the color and the feelings she harbored, the messages that had been instilled, the subtle and subliminal nudges and whispers of superior and inferior races that permeated society, to find family ties. “Cam said your father is hard to please, but he didn’t say much about his mother.”
Georgia’s face tightened. “I was the second daughter, after Olivia. Olivia is the most beautiful, exotic woman I have ever seen. She got the best of everything, a complexion so pure it glows. She was a fashion model for about ten years. I am black as my father. As soon as I knew I was different, I wanted to be like my sister. There was nothing I could do, no matter how hard I tried, to get her skin, her build. It wasn’t Mother’s fault, of course, but I couldn’t accept that she loved both of us equally since we were so different. Then Cam came along, and he too was the most beautiful creamy-tan baby. And I was still black. I had to hang on to who I was. Who I am.”
She looked up when laughter floated out from the lounge. “I hung on too hard. Cam, and Grandma, showed me.” With a sigh, she set her attention on Lily. “Oh, I’m not gonna change my spots. At least not so fast. I liked Laura. She and I became very good friends. I planned for that wedding like it was my own.” She shook her head. “But that’s no reason to treat you poorly. My brother loves you. I respect that. I do. I think I was just mad he got over her death better than I did. And I apologize for my behavior yesterday.”
That confession must have cost Georgia a lot of pride points. For Cam, though, and the future, Lily would accept his prickly sister’s apology.
And so he found them a couple of minutes later, drinking coffee not necessarily in perfect peace, but without enmity. Lily rose and offered him her chair. “We’re going out to Berta’s to pick up Kenny’s things. See you at the hospital later?”
“Sure. Of course.” He tilted his chin in Georgia’s direction and mouthed, “Okay?”
Lily nodded and waved.
* * *
Women. Cam couldn’t help a twinge of apprehension as he studied his sister who sat impassively sipping her coffee and watching cable news. “Morning,” he drawled as he poured himself a cup of spindly-looking stuff into a paper cup.
“Morning,” Georgia said. “Adam found us some rooms up in the Twin Cities for tonight. I promised Hessia a trip to the Mall of America and Devon some time in a pool. You’re welcome to join us. We’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Thanks for asking, but I should stick around in case…well, anything happens. Sorry about all this. It’s not exactly the Christmas you were envisioning, I bet.”
She stood and gathered him in a rare hug. “It’s family. We don’t have Olivia and DuWayne, but we have each other. That’s important.”
It was a start. After she left, he realized he hadn’t done any Christmas shopping. He’d always sent his niece and nephew money, and gift baskets to the others. A quick hop on the ’net and several extra dollars in delivery charges ensured Olivia’s Slice of Wisconsin cheese basket would get to her on time. What should he get Lily and Kenny?
* * *
At twelve thirty, Cam walked down the familiar corridor at the hospital toward Kenny’s room. Lily’s terse phone call an hour ago warned him something was up. Shouting confirmed it. If he could tiptoe in his clodhoppers, he might have tried.
“I’m not going there! I told you,” Kenny said. “I’m not staying in a haunted house.”
Cam winced at the clang of plastic and metal from the room and hustled through the wide door. Lily visibly exhaled.
“Kenny,” Lily said. “Say hello to Mr. Taylor.”
“You’re not my mom. You can’t make me.” The boy wore clothes that were at least two inches short in the arms and legs. “In fact, I’m leaving now. Going back to my own house. I don’t care if there are burn marks.” He stalked under the hanging TV but swiveled to face them. “Because I feel like it. I’m the boss of me, so I can do what I want.” He stomped away. Deegan struggled to maintain a polite expression and took long-legged strides after the boy.
Lily hunched, cupping her elbows, and spoke to the lunch tray and splattered soup on the floor. “When Deegan took me out to the trailer earlier, we noticed the place had been vandalized. All the windows were broken and most everything from inside was stolen or burned.”
His breath caught. “What did he say?”
She shrugged. “The usual. Asked around. No one saw anything. Of course.”
Another shout echoed from the hall. She looked behind her. “We had to tell him. He’s pretty upset.”
“How are you?”
“Upset. But it’s not like it was my home.”
He realized Kenny returned and stood watching him.
“Hi, there,” Cam said. “I heard about your house.”
“Yeah? So? All my friends suck. They have to know who did it. They probably helped.”
Kenny rushed the door.
“Stay with Officer Deegan!” Lily called.
“I’m going home!”
Kenny had the rug pulled out from under him. Cam knew the feeling.
“I have some appointments lined up for next week with a child psychologist,” Lily said in a soft voice, linking with his gaze.
“That’s probably a good idea.”
“Okay.” She blinked, breaking the bond. “Let me check on Kenny.”
“Deegan’s got him.”
“Yeah. Just—”
The hall was empty. Lily stopped a passing nurse. “Did you see Kenny? Or Officer Deegan?”
“I heard something a few minutes ago. Down the stairs.”
“Thanks.” Lily headed for the exit, Cam in her wake. Apparently her feet were much better, quick as she moved.
She opened the door and looked down the square stairwell. “Kenny? Where are you? Don’t scare me like this.”
When they got to the bottom and burst through to the lobby, Deegan was on his mic, asking for assistance. For the first time since Cam had met the young officer, he seemed panicky. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Lily. I thought he was right ahead of me, but when I got here…” Lily was out the door, coatless, calling and calling along the street. Cam and Deegan spread out and went around the block, shouting into the wind.
Kenny was gone.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Cam handed Lily another tissue and brought another glass of water where she sat at the police station. Officer Deegan made out a report while the rest of the on-duty officers were searching. Cam filled in the missing pieces when Lily couldn’t summon the color of his pants or shirt.
She dissolved into more tears. “He wasn’t wearing a coat, or a hat and mittens. I don’t know what to do. What would a mom do? I’m not cut out for this. I can’t handle it. They should never have allowed me to take him.” She clung to Cam. “What will Minerva say? I’ve let her down. I can’t bear this.”
Deegan finally escorted them out after finishing as much of the report as he could.
“Where’s Agent Forbes?” Lily said, sniffling. “Do you still have his number? Cam, we have to call him. I know it’s those people, the ones he heard on the telephone. I shouldn’t have run in the first place. I should have confronted Art, stood up to Berta and taken Kenny. I could have ended this right then.�
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Cam gripped her shoulders. “Lily, get ahold of yourself. Don’t talk that way.”
She put her hands over her mouth and let the tears roll.
“Come on.” He drove them to the cold, square gray house that had been her childhood home.
“We need to go out there, too,” she said, “and look for him. I have to do something.”
Heaven knew he felt the same way, but Deegan told them to go and stay at the house in case Kenny changed his mind and went there. Besides, who was he to tell her what to do? How to feel? If this was his little boy, he’d be absolutely frantic.
The house made a cold, bare impression. Maybe because the whole thing was painted gray and had gray window blinds and gray carpet. A small, dingy blue kitchen opened off the end of the small, rectangular living room. The hallway led off to the side of the kitchen. No pipes had burst during the freeze, and the furnace kicked in when Lily turned the dial.
He took stock of the house’s furnishings. A recliner. Monster TV. No pictures or decorations. Dusty gray slats. Not looking like this was much of a home, either.
The front doorbell rang, making them both jump. Lily’s hopeful rush to the door made him want to punch something. Nothing was fair.
A short man in a bomber hat with tied up flaps, wearing thick black plastic glasses, said, “Hello? Remember me? I was away, visiting my sister. Roger? Next door? Remember me?”
“Hi, Roger,” Lily said in a dead voice.
“Well, now, I seen the police visit and I didn’t hear nothing on the scanner. So I thought I’d come over and check it out.” He entered cautiously when Lily left the door open and curled up in the recliner.
“Hi, I’m Cam Taylor, Roger. Now’s not really a good time.”
“Uh, well, okay, then. Tell Art I scraped the ice real good, and sanded.”
Cam glanced at Lily and walked Roger to the door. “Bad news, pal. Art passed away.”
“Oh, wow, never saw that one coming. So, Art kicked it, hey? Well, they roughed him up pretty good. S’pose he got an aneurysm? Or a clot?”
“I don’t know.” Cam nudged him toward the door, wondering if he should ask who “they” were. Nah. He’d tell Forbes or Deegan about it and let them deal with it.
Understory Page 29
