by Jessica Kate
Natalie’s words about forgiveness last week returned to him.
He’d turned his back on God in far more dramatic fashion than his father had ever done to him. And God had taken him back.
He squared his shoulders.
Every day, try one more time.
He marked another photo to be printed.
* * *
“If I flunk art, I’m not going to get a scholarship.”
Lili sucked on her blue raspberry Icee as Nick spoke from the other side of their wooden bench out in front of Target, shopping bags stacked around him. He waved his hands as he talked, brown eyes alight. Nick could talk about the growth rate of fungus and he’d look enthusiastic about it.
And since she hadn’t yet worked up the courage to tell him about Dad, she let him talk. “That’s what you’re after? A scholarship?” Another slurp of the Icee.
Nick nodded, lips attached to his own straw. “It’s the only way I’ll get to a good college anytime soon. Otherwise I’ll have to spend a couple years working. Maybe take night classes. This art is killing me.”
Lili lowered her Icee. This would be the perfect segue for her tutoring idea. Maybe then she could work up the nerve to tell him about her parents. She leaned forward. “Do you want me to tell you a secret?”
Nick’s phone alarm interrupted. He pulled it out and hit a button. “Oh man, I didn’t realize what the time was. I’ve gotta go check my chickens.”
Lili choked. “Your what?”
A grin curled his lips. “Wanna see something cute? It’s only a couple blocks away.”
“Okay.” Maybe the interruption was a sign she shouldn’t tell. And the boy had chickens. Now was not the time for secrets.
He tossed his empty cup into the trash, grabbed his shopping bags, and led the way. Lili followed him onto the sidewalk, where the cooling air hinted their sweet fall nights were numbered. She buttoned her denim jacket. Nick had no coat, just a flannel shirt over his Nirvana T-shirt, which peeked out from a tear on his back. She made a mental note of it and quickened her steps to walk alongside him.
“What were you saying about a secret?” Nick asked as she drew level with him.
She scrambled for an answer. “It’s . . . it’s the secret to art. Art is all about showing someone a story, even if that story is just one thought or emotion.”
Phew, that was close.
“What if I don’t have many of those?”
Typical boy. “There must be something you want to say with your life. Or something that reflects how you feel.”
“You’re starting to sound like my counselor.”
“You go to a counselor?” Her question came out louder than expected. Oops. He just didn’t seem like the counseling type. “Sorry, that was nosy.”
Nick shrugged. “No, it’s fine. Aunt Trish finally convinced me last year. Unfortunately not before I punched a hole through her wall.”
“You punched a hole through her wall?” The pitch of her voice heightened with her surprise.
“It was when my brother’s stuff was really bad. I thought he was going to jail.”
They reached the front gate of a small house. A rosebush peeked over the fence and white wicker furniture rested on the porch. Nicer than she expected. The scent of freshly mowed grass tickled her allergies.
Nick opened the gate, sat his bags on the concrete path, and reached for an upside-down flowerpot tucked next to the fence. A key rested beneath.
“Aunt Trish always makes sure I can get in. She even leaves a key for her car, just in case.”
Lili’s legs turned to lead. “This isn’t your place?”
“No.” Nick laughed the word. “Our place isn’t this side of town. And it’s not visitor friendly. But most important, it doesn’t have these.” He nodded toward a box resting by the side door. “Wanna see?”
She moved forward, an eye on the door for any sign of her temptress teacher. “Is Miss Kent here?”
“No, she’ll be out for a while.” Nick pulled the lid off the box, and a yellow light spilled out from a heat lamp. “Check this out.”
She peeked inside. Ten eggs smiled back at her, their faces drawn on with a Sharpie. “These are going to be chickens?”
“Yep. They’re for Mom. She’s always wanted some.”
“Why are they here?”
“I didn’t want her to be disappointed if they didn’t make it. Aunt Trish is letting me keep them here till they hatch and grow up a little bit, then I’ll take them home and surprise her.”
“Wow.” Words fled Lili’s mouth as she stared at the eggs, tucked into a bed of fabric scraps. Warmth caressed her cheeks from the heat lamp attached to the top of the box. The faces even had little eyebrows and ears. “You did her most embarrassing shopping and you’re raising her chickens? You’re a good son.”
“Pretty sure I’m not, but thanks anyway.”
“No, I’m serious. I always thought it was weird how . . . normal you are.” She knelt by the box, reached in, and stroked the delicate shell of an egg.
“No one’s as normal as they look.”
He was righter than he knew.
“How do you do it?” Lili’s need to know pressed her gut harder than the button of her too tight skirt.
Nick sat on the step and rested an elbow on his knee. “I owe a lot to Aunt Trish. I’ve lived with her on and off for most of my life, whenever things got bad with Mom. She made sure I got fed, always had enough clothes, had a ride to school. She introduced me to God—not in a ‘Jesus loves the lambs’ kind of way. Like a ‘Next time Mom has a psychotic episode, Jesus will hold your hand’ kind of way. And He did.”
She pulled her hand away from the egg. God had left her alone. Was something wrong with her? “Anything else?”
“Anything else what?”
“Did anything else help you cope?”
He pointed to the eggs. “I do stuff like this. I’m a fixer. Plus, once I gave up on my weekly staring contests with my counselor, I realized it’s way smarter to take action about the junk that happens in your life than to sit there and try to explode the counselor’s brain using the dark side of the Force.”
Lili bit the inside of her cheek. What action could she take? She was stuck.
Nick pulled a Sharpie from his pocket and reached for an egg. “Want to name one?”
She reached for the Sharpie—and the distraction. “Really?”
“Sure. Anything you want. Actually, you can name five of them. I’ll do the others.”
She took the Sharpie in one hand and the egg in the other, its warmth seeping through her palm. “What about Leonardo Da Vinci?”
“That old inventor dude?”
“A genius at math and art.”
Nick grinned. “Perfect.”
He found another marker and scribbled names on his eggs while she finished hers. They lined them up in the box for the naming ceremony. Nick’s hand brushed Lili’s as he straightened an egg.
“Okay, you go first,” he said.
She pointed to the first egg. “Leo.”
Nick nodded his approval.
“Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael, and Taylor Swift. All amazing artists.”
Nick quirked an eyebrow. “Ninja turtles and T-Swift?”
“Artists. Also ninja turtles.”
The smile he gave her sent sparks through her body.
“What about yours?”
“Bruce, Robin, Alfred, Martha, and Thomas.”
“A Wayne family reunion?”
“Holy guacamole, Batman, so it is.”
She chuckled at his Robin impersonation. The laughter died away, and Nick kept looking at her with that half grin on his face.
She took a breath. It was now or never. “Nick, can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
A Fiat pulled into the driveway. Nick jumped up. “Aunt Trish is back.” He jogged to the car.
Lili clambered to her feet, but Miss Kent popped out of the car before
she could escape. The teacher swallowed her nephew in a hug, despite being almost a foot shorter and forty pounds lighter than him.
“How’s Stephen?” Nick managed to get out around her death grip.
Lili gritted her teeth. Miss Kent had seen Stephen . . . with Dad.
No wonder he hadn’t replied.
Miss Kent gave a quiet response, and Nick’s face wiped of all emotion. He squeezed his aunt, face hidden by her poufy curls. Lili’s hands, no longer warmed by the eggs, turned to ice as the wind whipped up. She wrapped her arms around herself.
If Dad had hidden the fact that he’d just spent the afternoon with Miss Kent . . . what else might he be hiding?
The pair broke apart, and Nick bent to retrieve the shopping bags they’d left on the ground. Miss Kent’s gaze landed on Lili. Her eyes widened, and she flicked a glance at her nephew.
Lili drilled her with an unblinking stare, then turned to Nick as he straightened with an armful of bags. “I’d better take off, Nick.”
“Are you sure? You can come inside till your uncle gets here. And didn’t you have a question you were asking me?”
“I, uh, was just going to offer to fix that tear in your shirt. Natalie’s teaching me to sew, if you’re willing to be my guinea pig.”
“That’d be awesome. Last time Aunt Trish tried to sew, she sealed my pockets closed.” He grinned at his aunt as he shrugged off his outer shirt and handed it to Lili. She gripped the soft fabric and backed toward the gate.
“My uncle will pick me up from the corner,” she lied. “I’ll see you at school.”
The gate banged behind her as she walked as fast as she dared. She made it around the corner of the block before tears slid down her face and dripped from her chin. But she tried to stay positive.
Maybe Dad hadn’t known Miss Kent would be there. Maybe Stephen had occupied all their time.
Or maybe Dad was choosing her over Mom? Over Lili?
Her shoulders shook with sobs as her thoughts swirled up, a waterspout of despair. She’d tried so hard over the past couple of weeks. It hadn’t been easy to leave home, but she’d done it because Dad asked her. She’d never demanded her parents spend time with her. She’d worked harder on her studies than ever. She’d helped Jem with Olly and even done a chunk of the housework.
But it wasn’t enough.
She pulled out her phone and messaged Granddad. Jem wouldn’t be looking for her for a while yet, and Grandad should be knocking off work around now. He liked to take her for rides in the police car. Plus, he was less astute than Jem when it came to tears.
By the time she scrubbed the water off her face and got back to Target, his black-and-white car idled in the parking lot.
“Hi, there, cupcake.” Granddad’s grizzled face softened when she got in. He held up a small tub and spoon. “Frozen mango treat?”
A tiny piece of Lili’s burden lifted. “I love you.” She took the gift and poked the spoon in her mouth as she secured her seat belt. Sweetness melted on her tongue.
Granddad put the car into gear and pulled out into traffic. “How are you? Your uncle taking good care of you?”
She swallowed the last of her sobs and adopted a flippant tone. Best to be flippant when the conversation was teetering between Dad cheating and a badly hidden father-son feud. “He told me not to tell you that yesterday we had a Beyoncé karaoke night. He was afraid you’d be jealous.”
Granddad grunted.
So much for flippant. “That was a joke. He helped me write a newspaper article for my English assignment.” She poked Granddad’s knee. “You should come visit us. Jem’s not so bad. And Olly’s growing fast.”
She was the only person Granddad would let nag him about Jem. Up until recently she’d been his only grandchild, and he spoiled her shamelessly.
“I saw the photo you sent me of him walking along the furniture.”
She smiled around the spoon between her lips. Cracks were everywhere in this family. Maybe if she could glue together one little piece, it would help the rest.
Granddad glanced at her as they pulled into Jem’s parking lot. “You okay? Your eyes look a bit red.”
“Allergies.” Lili gave her spoon one last lick and unclipped her seat belt. “Will you come upstairs with me? Just to say hello?”
He patted her hand. “Maybe another time.”
She stared at him. So polite. So distant. Refusing to make an effort, even for her sake. Was this what the future looked like? Her family in neat little compartments, always tense and never together?
She got out of the car and stood on the sidewalk. “Thanks for the ride.”
He gave her a wave and drove off, and Lili watched him go. Uncle Jem had never been enough for her grandfather. What made her think her own family would be any different with her?
Lili dragged herself up the stairs to Jem’s apartment and entered with her key. Jem stood in the kitchen as she closed the door, cell phone to his ear.
“I can’t hear you, Nat. What did you say . . . ? What kind of emergency?”
15
Natalie stood in her living room, phone to her ear, as she surveyed the carnage around her.
Her little mother-in-law suite, located in the backyard of local proctologist Dr. Dinkle, had been assaulted by a tsunami. The carpet squished beneath her feet, and water continued to pour from a pipe beneath the kitchen sink.
“I said it’s a plumbing emergency,” she said to Jem on the other end of the phone. “The Dinkles are away, and a plumber will take ages to get here. I just need to know how to shut off the water.”
He gave her step-by-step instructions, then finished with, “Lili can watch Olly. You’ll need help cleaning up. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
He hung up before she could respond.
Standing in her doorway, she pulled the phone away and looked at the contact photo he’d installed the one time she’d left her phone unlocked. A close-up of Olly’s nostril. Same old Jem.
Doing stupid things to her phone.
Coming to her rescue when she didn’t even ask.
Yikes. That was dangerous territory. Back to her flooded apartment.
She wrinkled her nose. She’d left a box of laundry detergent in the bottom of the kitchen cabinet, so the scent of lavender and oriental blossom fought for supremacy with wet-dog smell. Curse that shih tzu of old Mrs. Dinkle.
She lifted her sodden bean bag, which now weighed three times what it should have. A stack of dirty dishes peeked out from beneath the purple polka dot material. Drat. She’d wondered where they went.
A pile of bills on the floor had been saturated, and the legs of her wooden desk were wet. Would they swell? At least the rest of the room was bare, with the exception of one plastic garden chair tucked under her desk. Mindy’s bridal shower invitations were safely on top of her desk. Her friend, overwhelmed by organizing a wedding in just three months, had talked Natalie into helping out. Thankfully the invitations were safe, and she owned little else that could get ruined.
Her plans for the night were another matter. She’d intended to get home, eat a piece of toast, and spend the evening finding a potential venue and attractions for the festival she’d pitched to Sam.
She scratched her scalp, and frizzy hair strands tickled her palm. Sweat dampened her blue T-shirt from her bike ride home, and water soaked through her tennis shoes. She was going to look fabulous when Jem arrived, and the place was a mess even without the water.
Not that it mattered what Jem thought.
But first things first. Shut off the water.
She followed Jem’s instructions to find and shut off the valve under the sink. Within a few minutes Jem stood in her doorway, toolbox in hand. He wore a gray top and orange board shorts. And he’d never looked more wonderful.
A sympathetic smile tugged his lips as she let him in. “I’ve heard of a coastal theme for interior design, but this is taking it a bit far.”
“Speaking of coastal, you look dressed
for the beach.”
“I figured there was a good chance I’d be getting wet. Damp denim is no fun.”
She leaned against her dining table and resisted an old memory of their spontaneous beach trip. Unprepared, she’d swum in some gym gear she had in the car, while Jem went in nothing but his jeans. He’d laughed about the chafing all the way home. That’d been a week after they got engaged.
She folded her arms. They’d struck a truce in the past few weeks, nothing more. Any melting would be confined to the chocolate bar stashed in her pocket. “Thanks for coming.”
He winked. “It’s worth my time to get a peek into your apartment.” He made a show of scanning the room.
She winced. She was proud of the wall full of quotes from inspirational women. Less so of the dead potted plant, five dirty cups on her desk, and the drying rack of unmentionable laundry. She grabbed the rack and opened her bedroom door to throw it inside.
“Oh no.” The water had seeped under the door and saturated the carpet in there too. Plus the pile of clothes on the floor beside her bed.
Jem peeked over her shoulder. “Is that The Cowboy and the Princess?” He nodded toward the book on her bedside table.
She tried to cover a smile. “Um, no?”
“I’ve been looking for that all week.”
Natalie gave him a cheesy grin, charm her only defense.
He rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen.
She turned back to her bedroom. Besides the clothes, nothing looked too—
Jem gave a short laugh, and she turned. Oh no. He was reading the sticky notes on her fridge.
“Call Sam about venue. Feed Dr. Dinkle’s goldfish when he’s on the cruise. Return Jem’s book.” Jem slid her a look. “Bring sewing machine to Jem’s for Lili. FEED GOLDFISH. Find new hiding place for M&M’s at Jem’s. Buy new goldfish.” He tugged the last note from the fridge and held it up. “Should I be leaving my son with you?”
“Lili told me about the cockroach incident last week. He’s better with me than you.”
“Come on, I got to him quick. He only ate one leg.”
She shuddered and pulled open the kitchen cupboard to expose the offending pipe.
