Tiger Lily

by May Dawson

  “I’ll go with you,” Lupine said firmly. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “Save the momming for the kids,” I told her. “From the sounds of it, Amon needs it all, you don’t have any to waste.”

  I was fine. I could make jokes. Maybe I could even mention the guys. “You should get Blake over here if you need him. He’s got bossy to spare.”

  “He is over here,” Lupine said. “They all are. They invited Amon to work in the shop with them. They come over and help me fix things up around the place, and they bring the kids way too many presents.”

  Of course they did. They were such nice guys, and my heart ached with the loss.

  “That’s nice.” I managed to smile and nod, but I didn’t think it convinced anyone at the table.

  Juniper gave me a sympathetic look. “How did things go with those men of yours today?”

  “They’re not mine anymore,” I answered.

  Juniper gave my hand a squeeze. “I guess we’ll see.”

  32

  After an oddly comforting hot dog dinner with my grandfather, I went to bed early that night. I just felt drained.

  In the middle of the night, I jolted up, suddenly wide awake.

  The teddy bear still looked at me reproachfully from the dresser in the dim light. I didn’t think she would ever look at me the same way again. The numbers on the digital clock were flashing. Power was out. That was weird—we were on the main line with central Silver Springs, the power rarely went out for long.

  There was a faint, distant noise. It didn’t sound right. Had another strange sound woken me? I could almost remember the sound of glass breaking ,but maybe that had been my dream.

  My heart was suddenly pounding. Maybe there was someone else in the house.

  Or maybe my grandfather was sneaking around with Lasagna.

  I stepped out into the hallway, only to see my grandfather step out of his room, wearing his tan button-down pajamas, like something out of a 1950’s sitcom.

  When the two of us made eye contact, his eyes widened.

  “I thought you were downstairs,” he mouthed. “Getting a snack.”

  “I thought you were with Lasagna,” I mouthed back. “Also getting a snack.”

  “Inappropriate,” he mouthed back. “This is why you can’t meet her.”

  “I’m going to call the cops.”

  He nodded. I went back into the room for my cell phone.

  “9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

  “I think there’s someone in my house,” I explained before giving them my address.

  The 9-1-1 operator gave me instructions, and once the police had been dispatched, she asked, “Do you have keys to the front door in reach? Don’t leave the room for them, but if you have them in your possession, you can drop them to the police when they arrive so they don’t have to kick in your door.”

  The 9-1-1 operator sounded so calm and relaxed that it calmed some of my wild beating heart. “I can do that, I’ve got my purse. I’ll lock myself in my room as soon as I get my grandfather in the room too—”

  I stepped into the hall just in time to see him vanish down the stairs, teetering a bit as he had no free hand to grip the railing—since he had a baseball bat over his shoulder.

  “Got to go,” I muttered.

  “Ma’am, please stay on the line until the police reach you—”

  That was the smart thing to do, but if the people I loved insisted on being stupid, I supposed I was all-in with them.

  “Grandpa, what are you doing?” I whispered.

  He turned back on the stairs. “I’m going to see if there’s someone in the house.”

  “The police will do that!”

  “I used to be in the Navy, I’m not helpless,” he reminded me.

  “That was fifty years ago, before we had cell phones, when you had two hands!”

  To my shock, he pulled his arm out of the sling, then laboriously pulled his arm out of the cast. He waved it over his head. “Maybe I’ll beat him with it.”

  “Grandpa!”

  “Sorry.” He had the sense to look abashed, at least. “I wanted you to come home. You sounded like you needed to come home ,but you’re a lot more willing to do nice things for other people than for yourself, Lily.”

  I shook my head. He gripped the baseball bat in both hands and started down the stairs.

  I went into my room, unplugged the lamp, and carried it with me. Hit them with the base, not with the shade. Hit them with the base, not with the shade.

  I was so nervous, I was pretty sure I would forget.

  I followed him down the stairs.

  Someone rushed past us in the hallway down below.

  “Who’s there?” My grandfather shouted, and he missed a step.

  He fell heavily down the stairs and came to a stop, groaning.

  I ran down the stairs after him. In the distance, the front door slammed shut. Whoever had been in the house must have fled.

  “Grandpa!” I screamed, my hands shaking as I tried to look him over.

  He clutched his hand to his chest. “Lily,” he said, his voice very calm.

  “Are you hurt?” I asked. “Did you break your arm for real this time?”

  It sounded glib, but I was on the verge of tears. I needed for him to be okay.

  “Lily, call them back and tell them I need an ambulance,” he managed. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”

  33

  As I waited for my grandfather to come out of surgery, I felt desperately alone in that brightly lit waiting room. The nurses were kind, but I was the only one in the waiting room for hours and hours. I leaned back in the plastic seat, trying to get comfortable, thumbing through yet another Cosmo I didn’t really read.

  Worried as I was, I was still exhausted, and I found myself nodding off as I waited.

  That was why I thought they were a dream at first.

  Blake stepped into the room first, scanning the room as if he was looking for a threat.

  Dylan, meanwhile, had eyes only for me as he rushed across the room.

  And Archer stepped in behind them both, taking it slower, observing everything with those blue eyes that seemed so bright in contrast to his black hair.

  “This is a definite positive step in my dream,” I said to no one in particular.

  “Oh really?” Blake drawled, fixing me with that protective, know-it-all look that made me want to paw him across the face. He wouldn’t use that tone in my dream.

  I leapt to my feet. They were real. “Oh, hey.”

  “We heard,” Archer said, “and we figured you might not want us, but…we’re here.”

  I nodded, and then tears flooded my eyes, and suddenly Archer’s arms were around me. He pulled me tight against his solid chest, burying his face in my hair.

  “How’s your grandfather?” he murmured.

  “Still in surgery,” I said. “I haven’t heard anything lately. I can’t believe you’re here…”

  Archer’s arms tightened around me, and I had a feeling he didn’t know how to take that.

  “It doesn’t have to mean anything, Lil,” Blake said. “We’re just here as friends.”

  “We’ll always be here,” Dylan said.

  “Great,” I said, then sobbed, because suddenly I couldn’t hold back my tears.

  The three of them exchanged looks as if they worried they’d broken me.

  “You don’t seem…” Blake began cautiously.

  I didn’t seem great, I knew that. “I’m so scared,” I admitted. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

  I didn’t feel alone anymore.

  They waited with me all through the night, as the sun rose and the rest of the hospital came to life again.

  And we talked.

  Not about anything serious.

  We talked about Silver Springs, about Juniper’s shop and the welcome dildos, about Jewels Café and how mood tea scared us all because maybe we wanted to keep our feelings to ourselves, about
how Silver Springs needed its own book store so we didn’t have to drive all the way to Scarborough, about how we loved the old-fashioned Silver Springs radio station with its late-night romance advice line.

  But they made me smile. I had my own ideas for the late night advice line—even though I was probably the last person who should say a damn thing about that—and as I looked around at Blake’s big shoulders shaking, Dylan throwing back his head with laughter, and Archer’s grin before he buried his face in his hands—I realized I made them laugh, just as much as they made me laugh.

  That was a good thing for friends.

  Maybe it was even a good start for something more.

  34

  I went into my grandfather’s room to see him once the nurse said he was awake. He looked different, frail and wan, but then he opened his eyes and they twinkled familiarly.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I guess you’re right. I’m neither spry nor badass anymore.”

  “Maybe not spry.” I leaned over the bed carefully to plant a kiss on his cheek. “But badass in every way that matters.”

  He was a truly wonderful grandfather.

  Even though I was never going to stop bringing up his fake cast antics.

  “There’s someone else here to see you,” I told him.

  It was the one-and-only time in my life I’d make a middle-of-the-night emergency call to a fabric store. I’d left a message, and she’d called me back in the early hours of the morning. Then an hour ago, an older woman with bright red hair and an equally bright smile had walked in. She wore a hoodie with a cat appliqued in many colorful fabrics, and I’d known who she was the second I saw her.

  Lasagna walked in behind me, and my grandfather smiled.

  “Lily,” he said, his voice warm with appreciation. Then to her, tenderly, “How did you know?”

  “Your granddaughter called me,” she said resting her hand on my shoulder.

  Technically, her name was Diane. But to me, she’d always be Lasagna.

  My grandfather smiled at me.

  “You don’t have to keep secrets or sneak around, Grandpa,” I reminded him. “I might have more drama than Gray’s, but I want you to be happy. I’m happy for you.”

  “I want you to be happy too,” he said. “So what makes you happy?”

  I shook my head, because I didn’t want to answer.

  But I knew it wasn’t a job in Scarborough or Brad who would ever make me happy.

  “Right now,” I said, “I think a shower and some sleep would make me happy. Oh and a bagel with lox.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’m glad I got to see your sweet face.” He squeezed my hand. “I’ll be here.”

  “For a while.” I crossed my arms. “You’re lucky you didn’t break something when you fell down those stairs.”

  He at least looked embarrassed.

  “It’s ridiculous that you lied to me,” I told him, “but I know you just wanted to make me happy. But oh my gosh—you sure ran with that story.”

  “I was in the Navy—” he began.

  Lasagna and I chorused at the same time, “Yes, we’ve heard!”

  Then we smiled at each other. He had definitely mentioned it a time or two.

  “And we’re resourceful,” he finished, frowning between us both. “I’m not sure I like this.”

  “Oh yes, we’re going to gang up on you,” I warned him.

  I had ridden in the ambulance with my grandfather, so the guys drove me back home when I was ready to take a shower and get some rest. He seemed to be out of danger, although they’d keep him there for a while.

  “Are you sure you want to stay here, Lily?” Blake asked me as he stopped his truck in front of my house. The sun had just risen, dawn streaking the sky.

  I nodded. I knew now—after they’d come to the hospital—that they cared for me even without that damn enchanted book. But as friends? Or as…more?

  Had they come because they were good guys, or because they were my men?

  I needed to know the answer to that question, but I needed some sleep first. I wasn’t good with people to begin with—forget after pulling an all-nighter.

  “We’re right down the street if you need us,” Dylan told me before I got out of the car. “Or even just… if you want us. Don’t hesitate.”

  “I won’t,” I said.

  He looked at me skeptically but I slid out of the car and waved goodbye to them as I headed into the house.

  When I stepped into the foyer, Brad was there waiting for me.

  35

  Terror lodged in my throat at the sight of him standing there in the foyer.

  “Hey Lily,” he said easily. “I hope you don’t mind. I was just waiting for you and your door was unlocked.”

  I didn’t know what to say. My heart was galloping.

  And then I thought of the vial in my purse. The potion to undo my mistake, to make him forget that magic was real.

  “How did you know where I live?” I asked. He was the one who had been in my house before; I was sure of that now. But I didn’t want to make him angry or suspicious. I had to play this just right.

  “You and I dated for years,” he said. His eyes looked a little unfocused. “You think I wouldn’t know where you lived?”

  “I know you didn’t know where I lived, because you never came home with me,” I began, and then decided to drop it. It wasn’t smart to argue with him.

  Or maybe he’d feel suspicious if I didn’t argue, given my personality.

  “I’m here now,” he said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

  As if I wanted him here now…

  “Are you drunk?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” His eyebrows rose, not quite moving in sync. “I ran into these weird frogs down at the springs, and I swear they started talking to me…”

  “They do that,” I said. “Come into the kitchen. I’ll make you tea.”

  My palms were sweating. I still had my purse over my shoulder, so I pretended it was natural for me to carry it through the house. My back arched slightly with the tension of having him behind me, but I didn’t think he was observant enough to notice.

  The fact that he was here, in my house, left me sick.

  The kitchen that was so familiar and homey looked strange with Brad. The lights overhead shone brightly on the kitchen island where my grandfather insisted on dropping his mail despite my best efforts, and on the baker’s rack in the corner that held my grandmother’s cook books, and the copper bundt cake pan collection of hers that my grandfather kept hanging on the wall, even though he’d never baked a thing but tubes of crescent rolls in all his life.

  I went to the sink and filled the kettle, my back to him. I could feel him watching me, and it left a wriggling sensation down my spine, like knowing someone was about to drop a worm down my shirt.

  This was my happy place where my grandfather and I had eaten many hot dogs, where I’d rolled out Christmas cookies on the flour-covered island and drank hot tea with honey while I studied for my SATs.

  Brad didn’t belong in my happy place.

  He didn’t belong in Silver Springs. This whole damn town where friends were up in each other’s business and magic was in the open and everything was quirky but beautiful—this was my happy place.

  The realization surprised me, and I almost let the kettle overflow. Hastily, I jerked it out of the stream of tap water and placed it on the stovetop with a clang.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  What a question right now.

  I nodded, before taking down the box that held all our tea bags—most of them probably expired, knowing my grandfather. I sat at the kitchen table, pulling my purse into my lap. My heart was in my throat.

  Could a girl who routinely tripped—when not in cat-form—really pull off the sleight of hand of getting a potion into this guy’s drink?

  And what would happen if he caught me?

  “What kind of tea would you like?” I asked, tryi
ng to hide my nerves. I picked out a little package of orange spice—my favorite—and slid it across the table to him.

  He smiled faintly—a familiar, condescending expression, as if the man thought tea was stupid and girlish. But he studied the contents, and I used the opportunity to reach inside my purse and grope for the vial.

  My fingers wrapped around glass. I drew it out, slipped it into my sweatshirt pocket. My hand was still in my pocket as he raised his gaze to mine.

  “Earl Grey,” he said, holding the packet up between two fingers. He laid it on the table beside him. “I’m glad you’re willing to talk to me, Lily.”

  “Of course,” I lied.

  “I found you a really great job in Scarborough,” he said. “You always wanted to work in a library.”

  He smiled at me. I had fantasized about that, a long time ago when we were dating in college. “I just have a degree in English,” I reminded him. “Not library science.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he promised me. “The position is the assistant for the children’s programming for the county. You don’t need a library science degree for that. My brother-in-law’s cousin is the head librarian, and she came through…”

  Yeah, you don’t need a degree for nepotism. I’d learned that working for Jonathan. Oh great, a job working for someone on Brad’s side. That boded well.

  “It sounds perfect for you,” he said. “You’ve got great organization skills. You’d be reaching out to speakers, scheduling the children’s programs like readings and sing-alongs and special events.”

  That actually did sound like my dream job. I’d spend every day working in an office in a sunny library, surrounded by books and the happiest people in the world—readers.

  He beamed at me as if he knew what I was thinking. “You’re like a big kid yourself, so it would be a perfect fit.”

  I knew Blake or Dylan or Archer could describe me as a big kid and they’d mean it as a compliment, that I found fun in things and enjoyed innocent stuff like Disney sing-a-longs and princess t-shirts. But he meant something else.