by T. L. Haddix
Warren stared at her, astonished. “What do you mean?”
Ainsley lifted an eyebrow and snorted. “I saw when things changed for you, when you started seeing her differently than before. I can tell you the day it happened, as a matter of fact. I’m half inclined to ask what took you so long, but since I’m married to a rather stubborn man and surrounded by half a dozen others on a regular basis, I know to save my breath. Head up and spend some time with the vets today if you get a chance. It’d do all of us some good to have you there.”
She left before he could close his mouth, much less come up with a retort. Anything he would have come up with would have painted him a liar, however. He scrubbed his face with his hands, groaning as he glared at the ceiling. He knew exactly what she was talking about. She was right—the shift in how he looked at Lily had been almost instantaneous, a true “overnight sensation.”
Thinking back to that night still made him uncomfortable. It had been the middle of summer, and Ben and Ainsley were out of town for the weekend. School was getting ready to start again, and Molly had come back up after having spent the summer at home in Hazard. She’d been trying to get Lily to reenroll at least part time, to take some more art classes like she’d done in previous years, but Lily was being stubborn.
“I’m done with school. It’s boring. Tell her, Warren. Maybe she’ll listen to you.” They were in the main barn, winding things down for the day, and he was enjoying the girls’ back-and-forth.
He laughed and held up his hands. “Don’t put me in the middle of this.”
Molly wrinkled her nose. “So you’re neutral, like Switzerland, is that what you’re trying to say?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Just think of me as Swiss cheese, holes and all. What do you ladies have planned for the evening?”
“I’m trying to drag her to a party,” Molly said. “At least side with me on this.”
“What kind of party is it?” he asked as he straightened a bunch of bridles that were hanging on the wall.
“The boring kind with rich old men, socialites, and booze,” Lily said. “Which is why I don’t want to go.”
“It is not!” Molly retorted. “It’s an art party to launch a show at a gallery. There’ll be wine and crudité. Canapes. All those fancy things that equal free food.”
Lily rolled her eyes as she walked past Warren, but she was smiling. “Oh, well then. Sign me up. I mean, the larder’s empty here and all.”
“What’s in the house isn’t free. This party is like samples at the big box stores on the weekend. You can’t pass that up.”
“She’s right.” Warren snickered. “You should go if for no other reason than the free food.”
Much to his later dismay, they’d gone. When his phone rang at close to eleven that night, a tearful Molly’d been on the other end.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, but I didn’t know who else to call. We kind of got arrested.”
If he hadn’t heard the real panic in her voice, Warren would have laughed, thinking she was kidding. Most everyone in the Campbell family was well known for being a prankster on some level or another, and Lily and Molly weren’t exactly known for being party animals. But she sounded flat scared to death.
“Where are you? I’m on my way.”
Within ten minutes, he was pulling up outside the police station in Versailles.
“I’m here for Lily and Molly Campbell,” he told the desk sergeant inside.
The man’s lips quirked as he picked up the phone, and Warren wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or bad. “I’ll let Officer Heaton know you’re here. Have a seat.”
Warren blew out a breath, rubbing his damp palms against his jeans as he paced to the opposite side of the entrance. Despite the man’s words, he couldn’t force himself into a chair. The last time Warren had been inside a police station was when he’d been arrested, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit the place was giving him the creeps.
Fortunately, Officer Heaton came out just a few seconds later. “Hello. You’re Warren?” he asked as he held the door.
“Yes. What happened? Are the girls okay? They’ve been arrested?”
Heaton shrugged. “They’re mostly okay, yes, and no to the arrest. We brought them here mainly to keep them safely out of mischief.” The man sighed and ran a hand over his head. “Molly’s crying because she’s never been in trouble before. She’s so upset, we didn’t want to let her drive.”
Warren swallowed. “And Lily?”
“She’s in a little bit of trouble, but she’s not under arrest. The girl has one helluva right hook, did you know?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“From what Molly says, they were at the art gallery just up the street here, having a nice evening. Apparently, someone spiked the punch, and Lily didn’t realize it. How does a girl in this day and age get to be her age without knowing what hooch tastes like?” Heaton shook his head. “Anyhow, she says they were out on the patio and Molly had to go inside. While she was gone, some punk came along, read the situation wrong, and got a little out of line with Lily. So she decked him. In the process, he went ass over teakettle into one of the expensive sculptures. Busted it all to pieces. The gallery owner isn’t very happy with the turn of events.”
Gallery owner, hell. “What exactly do you mean, he got out of line?” Warren ground out.
Heaton eyed him. “I’ll let her tell you. She’s okay, but she’s still a little tipsy. A lot tipsy, if you want the truth, which is another reason we didn’t want to put them in a car.”
Warren was done listening to the man. He had to see Lily and Molly. “Where are they?”
“Right down here.”
When Heaton opened the door to a small room right off the main corridor, Warren took in the situation in a glance. Molly, who’d been pacing, froze for a second before rushing over to hug him and hide her face in his chest.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her whole body shaking. “Oh, my God, my parents are going to just die when they hear about this. And Ben and Ainsley… Warren, she didn’t know. I swear to you, she didn’t. She can’t drink alcohol. You know that.”
Lily had an alcohol intolerance that caused her to break out in a head-to-toe rash if she ingested more than a tablespoon of the stuff, something her parents had discovered when she was just a child.
They all looked at Lily, who was happily dancing around by herself, holding her arms out for an imaginary partner. When she turned and saw them, she lost her balance and nearly staggered into the wall.
“Oh, hi,” she said in a long drawl, and then she giggled.
“Good God, Ben will kill me.” Warren shook his head slowly. “Lily Jane, you’re a mess. And you’re going to be covered in hives tomorrow.”
She really was a mess. Her hair was wild around her head, her makeup was less than pristine, and her dress…
“What the hell? He tore her dress?” Warren glared at the cop, who held up a hand. The white, flower-patterned fabric was torn at the shoulder, and as he turned back to stare at Lily, horrified and sickened by the idea that some man had touched her like that, she hoisted the sagging fabric up with a great deal of enthusiasm.
“It happened when she punched him,” Molly said. “Sort of. He grabbed her to keep from falling, and when he went backward, it ripped.”
“He had the audakicy… no. That’s not right. Audaxity. Damn it, why can’t I say that word?” Lily muttered, frowning, her hands on her hips. “He touched my boob, damn the lousy bastard, after I told him not to. I pacifically told him not to.” She gave a short nod, then promptly sat down hard on the chair beside the table, nearly jabbing herself in the eye when she went to prop her chin on her hand. “I showed his ass.”
“Where is this guy?” Warren asked, about two seconds away from losing his mind.
“With any luck, he’s at
home licking his wounds. His father’s agreed to pay for the damages to the gallery. The kid’s just nineteen.” Heaton’s lips were pinched. “We won’t be pressing charges.”
“The hell we won’t,” Warren snarled.
“Warren, there weren’t any witnesses,” Molly said quietly, her hand on his arm. “And Lily’s too… um. Well. You see. It’s her word against his.”
“And money talks in this town. Yeah, I’m aware,” Warren said, glaring at the cop as much as the other man was glowering back. “We’ll just see if that’s the case when her parents get home. Are they free to go?”
Heaton nodded, his face stony. “So long as you’re driving them home.”
Warren got them in the truck as quickly as he could, knowing that if he didn’t get out of the police station soon, he’d end up running his mouth, getting himself arrested, and then they’d all be in a world of hurt.
“I’m so sorry,” Molly said, raising her voice a bit over Lily’s off-key singing. “I just didn’t think that she wouldn’t be able to taste that the punch was spiked. She’d had three glasses before I could warn her.”
“It isn’t your fault,” Warren said, glancing at Lily, who’d snuggled up to him with a sigh. “Trust me, of all the things you two could have gotten into, this isn’t even close to the worst case. How bad was the assault?”
Molly tucked her hair behind her ear. “So far as I can tell, he hit on her really hard, tried to kiss her, and like she said, he groped her. I think he’d been in the punch too. She walloped him but good though. I got back out there just as he was flying into the statue. He landed in a little pond.”
“A lily pond,” came the half-giggled response. “Lily knocked him into a lily pond.” And then she laughed so hard she snorted, falling into Molly.
Warren shook his head slowly as he pulled up to the main house. “Ben’s going to kill him if I don’t get to him first. Who was the guy?”
Molly’s mouth was pinched as she looked at Lily, then at him. “I’m not telling you. Not until you’ve calmed down.”
“Molly,” he growled, but she just lifted her chin. He sighed. “Fine. Come on, let’s get her inside.”
“I can walk,” Lily said as he came around to the passenger’s side door. “But I won’t object if you want to carry me. You’re a damned gor-geeee-ussss hunk of a man, you know. Whoa, mama!” She tried to whistle but couldn’t get her lips to work, and she ended up laughing instead.
Warren knew that if the situation hadn’t been so ugly with the groping jerk, he might well be getting a kick out of seeing Lily in her current state. And if she’d intentionally gotten drunk, he’d enjoy the hell out of teasing her the next day. As it was, seeing her so vulnerable set off a deep, burning rage inside him.
They’d almost made it the door of her apartment when she broke away and danced down the length of the sunroom, back toward the entrance.
“Come on, Warren, dance with a girl, wouldya?” She held out her hands, her eyes pleading as she smiled at him. “Just a little, teeny-weeny bit?”
Molly shrugged as he sighed. “You might as well give in. She’s apparently no less stubborn in this state than she is normally.”
“God help us,” he muttered, shaking his head as he carefully took Lily’s hands. “One dance.”
“Yay for me!”
She proceeded to dance him up and down the room in a drunken zigzag, humming off-key the whole time, stomping over his toes half a dozen times, a move that made her nearly fall down with giggles each time it happened.
Molly disappeared into the apartment, coming back a few seconds later sans shoes. “I can’t even tease her about this.”
“Any idea what the punch was spiked with?” Warren asked.
“Vodka’s my guess. There wasn’t a taste other than the burn.”
When Lily started singing “Daisy, Daisy” very loudly, Molly and Warren groaned, exchanging a look that had them snickering.
“We shouldn’t laugh,” Molly said, her lips quivering.
“No, we shouldn’t.” But Warren was having a hell of a time keeping a straight face. “God bless you, Lily Campbell, but a singer you are not.”
“You love me anyway, don’t you?” she asked him earnestly.
“Of course I do.”
She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder, finally winding the dance down. “You know, I’d marry you someday, Warren Sullivan, if your heart wasn’t already taken. But it is, and I’m a selfish girl. I want all of you or nothing at all. Good night.” She pushed away from him and carefully made her way through the door of the apartment.
The words left him standing there, staring after her, his mouth open with shock.
Molly sent him a look full of sympathy. “I have her from here, I think. Thanks for coming to get us.”
“Don’t mention it. Call if you need anything, okay?”
“We will.”
He’d gone home then, feeling raw inside. What Lily had said and the way she’d said it, with such a wistful tone to her voice, left him rattled. Surely to God she wasn’t in love with him. Yes, they were close. They’d always been close. But not once, not one single time, had he ever gotten the impression she had a crush on him or anything like that. What he’d seen tonight, however, made him wonder.
Certain it had just been the booze talking, he chalked the experience up to her being drunk. But he’d never been able to look at her after that without seeing her face as she looked up at him, so serious and a bit sad. He’d stopped looking at her so much as Lily his friend, and started wondering about things he told himself he had no business thinking about.
That change in his perception didn’t make him very happy, to tell the truth. It added a complication to his life that he didn’t want or need. But once his eyes were opened to the possibility, he couldn’t close them again.
He’d just pretended everything was the same, thankful Lily had no memory of what she’d said that night, and gone on as he had before. That had worked until the night everything came to a head at his house eight months back, and he’d truly lost his mind with her. He had to admit to himself that he’d been in a freefall ever since.
The phone on his desk rang, startling him back into the present. Grateful for the distraction, he hurried to answer it. As he finished the call, which turned out to be a wrong number, he thought about Ainsley’s admission.
“Maybe the only fool on the place is you, Sullivan,” he said as he stood. “Nobody else seems surprised. I wonder what the hell that means?”
He’d have to add that to the growing list of topics he had slated for some serious soul-searching, then he snorted. At this rate, he’d have to take a year-long sabbatical to fit them all in.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Despite his best efforts, Owen couldn’t fall asleep Saturday night. Insomnia didn’t plague him much these days, though he’d fought it terribly as a young man. But some nights, rest just wouldn’t come. Once he was sure Sarah was sleeping, he slipped out of bed and grabbed his robe, then headed for the small kitchen. They were staying with Lily in her apartment, as it was on the ground floor.
When he saw Lily standing at the eat-in table, packing a rucksack, he smiled. “Can’t sleep?”
She made a face at him and laughed. “No, even though I feel like I could stay in bed for a week. You okay?”
“Sure. I’m just restless tonight. So where are you off to?”
“I was thinking about heading out to Murky Pond. If I can’t sleep, maybe I can paint.”
“Ah.” They exchanged a look that was full of understanding, one artistic soul to another. “Good luck to you.”
“Thanks. I can stick around if you like,” she offered.
Owen waved a hand. “Nah. I’ll probably wander around the house a bit, maybe go out and sit on the porch. The moon’s nice and full, and I could u
se some air. Be careful heading out to your caboose.”
She hugged him. “I will. See you tomorrow.”
As she left, he thought about how much she’d grown up, even more so than just a few months ago. “I wonder how much this thing with Warren has to do with that,” he muttered.
He decided to grab some chocolate milk to go with the cookies that were calling him from a box on the table. Snack in hand, he made his way to the front porch and settled in one of the comfy rocking chairs with a satisfied sigh. A soft creak warned him that he wasn’t alone.
“You look like you just landed in high cotton,” Ben said, easing the door closed behind him. He took the chair beside Owen’s and eyed the box. “Are those the chocolate chip?”
“Of course.” Owen pulled a second bottle of milk from his pocket and set it on the little table between them. “Dig in.”
For a few minutes, they sat in silence, enjoying the treat.
Once his sweet tooth was satisfied, Owen stretched his legs out in front of him. “Nights like this, I miss shifting and running. It just takes too much out of me these days, and it isn’t worth it anymore. I always thought when I reached that point in my life, I’d be ready for the grave.”
Ben was watching him closely. “There’d better be a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”
Owen smiled. “There is. I still have a lot of life in me, and I’m not planning to kick the bucket anytime soon. God willing, your mother and I will make it well past one hundred.”
“I hope so. Grown or not, I still need you two.” Ben sat back, his pose mirroring Owen’s. “What do you think?”
“About Lily and Warren? I think they’re in love, and they don’t know what to do about that. He’s scared, but I’m not sure she isn’t more skittish than he is.”
Ben bounced the empty milk bottle off his knee lightly. “I worry that he won’t love her enough. How in the world did you manage to do this five times, Dad?”
