Uncovering You 8: Redemption

by Scarlett Edwards

  “Why do you call him that?” I ask. “He’s your son, isn’t he?”

  “Biologically…yes,” Hugh agrees. “In reality, though, things are more complicated. May I come in?”

  “Why?” I ask. “What do you want?”

  He reaches into his coat pocket and produces a small, sealed envelope.

  I’ve enough dealing with envelopes to be naturally suspicious of such things. “What is it?” I ask.

  “Open it and you’ll see.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then you’ll be refusing information that I think you may find absolutely vital to your situation.”

  “What situation?” I ask.

  “Oh, you know.” He looks around the hall, making a vague sort of sweeping motion with his hands. “All of this.”

  I don’t take the envelope. “Did Jeremy send you?” I ask.

  “Now, see? Right there. It hurts when I hear others address my own son by his first name, and yet I am forbidden to do so.”

  “From what I understand, it’s your own fault,” I lash out at him. “The way you raised Jeremy was despicable.”

  “Was it, now?” Hugh taps his lips. “And what do you know about it, Lilly? Were you there? “

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you mocking me? Of course I wasn’t there.”

  ‘”Ah. I see. No, I’m not mocking you, Lilly. I just wanted verbal confirmation. The mind…I find it has begun to slip a bit, in my old age.”

  Now my defenses are definitely up. Verbal confirmation? I’ve heard Jeremy use that term.

  And nothing about the man before me suggests a weakened mind. In fact, nothing about him suggests true deference on any level. I’m starting to believe Hugh is a lot more sinister and a hell of a lot more dangerous than I ever suspected.

  “So. Was it Mr. Stonehart who told you the way things were in his childhood?”

  “No,” I say.

  “So then you’re taking the word of third-party sources.” Hugh’s mouth makes a small, compressed ‘O’. “Hmm.”

  “I want you to leave,” I say. “I don’t like talking to you without Jeremy here.”

  “Why? Are you afraid of what conversation may uncover? Look at me.” He glances down the front of his suit. “I’m harmless. I doubt I possess the strength to force you against your will.”

  He looks at me with sharp, cunning eyes that make me certain that he is referring to his son.

  “That’s not the type of strength I’m worried about,” I mutter.

  “Ah,” he says softly. “I understand. You are fearful of the things I might say. Of the paths I might lead you to.”

  “Is that what you think you’re doing? ‘Helping’ me?” I ask. “We’re not allies, Hugh. We’re not friends. I have a long memory. I remember the stunt you pulled in your office with the photographs, with the collar.”

  “All of it orchestrated by Mr. Stonehart,” he says. “If you think I am at fault, then you are misplacing blame, I fear.”

  “I don’t care,” I snap. “You were a part of it! You were involved. Don’t you dare act as if you’re just a passive party in all this! I don’t know exactly where you stand yet, Hugh, but I intend to find out.”

  “I think,” he says, “that your intentions could be reached, were you to simply invite me inside.”

  “I don’t want you in my room.”

  “Your friends’ room then, perhaps?” He glances at the adjacent door. “We can talk in there.”

  I hate his passive aggressiveness. It makes it very difficult to get a read on him. For that matter, there’s nothing about Hugh’s manner that I like.

  “I fear,” I say mimicking his words, “that you mistake me. You think I’ll entertain your company simply by virtue of you showing up at my door? Well, I think you’ll find that I am ready to do no such thing. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to hear from you. I don’t even want to see you—unless it happens on my terms, in my own time. And I certainly don’t want any of your poisonous gifts.” I glance at the envelope still in his hands.

  Hugh sighs. He tucks it away. “A pity, that,” he says. “I came here hoping we could make peace. The need has hung heavy on my consciousness, like a noose, since I first met you, Lilly. I can’t help but feel that, perhaps, some of what you’ve experienced at the hands of…” He lowers his voice. “…my son, is partly my fault.”

  “Yeah, well you came too late,” I say briskly. “I’ve already dealt with those issues with Jeremy.”

  “About things that have happened in the past, yes,” Hugh tells me. “Not about occurrences that are yet to come.”

  “And you propose to tell me that you know what the future holds?” I laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  He shakes his head, gravely serious. “I assure you, that was never my intention. I worry for your well-being, Lilly.”

  I’ve heard that line from one too many people, one too many times, in the last few weeks to take it as having even a shred of truth.

  “Go away, Hugh,” I tell him, starting to close the door once more. “Go away! When the thought comes to you to pay me a visit again, remember that you will always get the same reception from me.”

  Hugh pulls his foot back. “If that is what you want,” he says softly. He starts down the hall. A few steps away he stops and looks over his shoulder at me. “But Lilly,” he adds, “if I were you, I would not reject offers of help so rashly. Or with so little thought. Else, I fear, you will find yourself very much alone, and very much too soon for your liking.” He give me an innocent smile. “But what do I know?”

  ***

  After Hugh leaves, my mind is back on overdrive.

  What did he want? Why did he come? What was in that envelope?

  And, most of all: What did he mean by his parting remark?

  It sounds like a warning. But it’s not as if I need Hugh’s advice to understand all the implications of the situation I am in. I know that my spot is precarious. I know that Jeremy’s moods can change on a whim. I know that whatever understanding I think I have—of Jeremy, of myself, of our place in the world—may be completely inaccurate.

  I’ve spent all this time with the man, and yet I still have only a small glimpse of who he is. Hugh alluded to my not knowing the whole truth of Jeremy’s upbringing. I don’t doubt that. Everything I know comes from Charles. Who, while seemingly well-meaning, obviously was not in a position to see everything.

  That’s why it’s so important for me to finish dealing with Robin and Fey and send them on their way. I want them both completely satisfied, and completely certain that I am one hundred percent all right. I need to know that neither of them will interfere. I must be free to pursue my own goals without worrying interruptions from either of them.

  And then…I think of Jeremy, and his visit last night, and shudder in memory of the pleasure. I’ve become so nonchalant about my thoughts of revenge. Sometimes, I forget the man I aim to get back at is the same one who can bring my body to such highs. He can also bring me to dastardly lows. But I attribute those situations to Stonehart. Not Jeremy. It’s how I segregate things in my mind and deal with the dichotomy of my two very conflicting opinions of the man.

  I hear the door in the other room open. I instinctively tense, then relax when I hear Fey’s easy laughter.

  I walk over and greet her. She and Robin both have small shopping bags in their hands.

  “Lilly. Boston is so beautiful!” Fey gushes. “How come you never told me how nice it was?”

  “Last time we were here,” I say, thinking back to our trip to Harvard for The Game, “you didn’t hold that opinion.”

  She makes a face at me. “That’s because I was hung over and spent the whole night before puking my guts out, remember?” Robin makes a small sound of concern. Fey looks at him and pats his hand. “Don’t worry, babe. That was the last time I ever got blackout drunk. I promised myself it wouldn’t happen again.”

  “I’d hope not,” he mu
tters, then goes to set his bags down on the bed.

  “What’d you two get?” I ask.

  “Oh, just this and that,” Fey says. She digs through one of the bags, and the next thing I know, a black, furry something is flying straight at me.

  I shriek but catch it. It turns out to be one of those Russian Ushanka hats. “What is this?” I say.

  “Try it on,” Fey giggles.

  I eye her skeptically, and then, with the most pompous grace I can muster, put the furry object atop my head.

  She bursts out laughing. “It suits you!”

  I raise an eyebrow at her. Even Robin starts chuckling.

  “Go look! Go look,” she says.

  I walk to the mirror. The hat’s sitting crookedly atop my head. But even like that, I look like…

  “A complete bitch,” I mutter, shaking my head.

  “What was that?” Fey asks.

  “I said it suits me if I want to look like an ice queen!” I say, laughing. I take it off my head and throw it to Robin. “Your turn,” I say.

  “Oh no!” he says. “Hats always look bad on me.” He starts to put it back in the bag.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” Fey squeals. She jumps him, and together, they wrestle on the bed, Fey trying to get an upper hand, Robin fighting back and laughing the whole time.

  For a moment I feel like the awkward third wheel. Then Fey screams when Robin starts to tickle her, and she yells, “Lilly! Lilly! Come help me! Ah!”

  Laughing, I jump into the mix. All pretense is forgotten. All emotions are let loose. For a glorious few minutes I forget where I am. I feel just like a regular college kid again. Fey and I fight with Robin, eventually overpowering him with our combined female strength, and pin him down to the mattress. I end up sitting on one of his arms, my legs tangled over his body, keeping his hands away as she stuffs the hat over his head.

  “There!” She announces. “And now, you look like an absolute disaster.”

  She laughs. I laugh, too. It feels good to let loose like this with my two friends. It’s not something I can even do with Jeremy. He’s too sophisticated, too intimidating—even when he’s being intimate.

  Somehow, that thought saddens me.

  Fey catches my subtle shift in mood. “Hey,” she asks. “Hey, Lilly, are you all right?

  “Yeah,” I say. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s nothing.” I rub at one eye. “Just an eyelash that got caught in my eye. That’s all.”

  “Okay,” Fey sounds skeptical. She climbs off Robin, and I do the same. “So, have you heard from Jeremy? When are we going to meet him?”

  “He’ll be working until midnight, at least,” I say. “He might be free tomorrow. Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” Fey glances at me sideways.

  “I don’t know his schedule!” I say. “Everything I know, I’ve told you. We’re all on the same page, here.”

  “So what do we do while we wait?” Robin asks.

  I pull out my wallet and dangle Jeremy’s black credit card in front of Fey’s face. “How about,” I suggest, “we get a little shopping done,” I wink, “for old time’s sake?”

  ***

  The rest of the day goes by quickly.

  We wander around Newberry Street mostly window shopping, but springing for a few things that really catch our eye.

  Robin, who’s in the moment and with us at first, however, grows quieter as the day goes by. I sense a shift occurring in him as if he’s anticipating some great tragedy to befall us at any moment. By the time the sun sets, he’s become quiet. Contemplative. Melancholic.

  Fey is not blind to the shift either. Maybe it comes from all of us knowing that this little city excursion cannot last. Sometime soon, we’re all three meeting Jeremy. Sometime soon, we’re all three set to return to our regular lives.

  I hope.

  When we get back to our rooms and unpack, Robin speaks for the first time in hours.

  “Lilly,” he says, all serious now. “There’s something that’s been bothering me. Will you hear me out?”

  I sit down at the table and look across the room at him. Fey stops moving and watches us.

  “Sure, Robin,” I say, though there’s some apprehension creeping into my voice. “What’s going on?”

  “I didn’t want to bring it up this way,” he begins. “And I still haven’t told Fey. I was waiting for you to do it. I wanted to see if you would.” He rubs his thighs uncomfortably, and then keeps going. “But I think, at this point, it’s safe to assume that you won’t.”

  I eye him warily. Fey looks from me to Robin, and back to me, her eyes full of suspicion.

  “What are you talking about, Robin?” I ask. That growing apprehension kicks into overdrive.

  “I…” he exhales, “know who owns this building.”

  The words hit me like a blow to the gut. For a brief second, the room spins. I’m glad I’m sitting down.

  “I found out this morning,” he continues, glancing at Fey. “And suddenly your insistence last night made so much more sense.”

  Caught, I think, as the worst feeling of dread washes over me.

  “What are you saying, Robin?” Fey asks. “You don’t mean that…that it belongs to Jeremy Stonehart. Do you?”

  Robin looks at his future wife and nods.

  Fey gives a little shocked gasp. Outrage flickers over her face. She turns on me.

  “The entire chain is owned by a distant real estate subsidiary of Stonehart Industries,” Robin continues. “It would have been impossible to trace the link even a few weeks ago. But with the company going public soon, certain papers detailing the legal structure of all the companies under Stonehart Industries’ umbrella have emerged. I traced the link myself. It’s undeniable.”

  “Lilly,” Fey asks slowly. “Did you know about this? Is it true?” she shushes Robin when he tries to speak. “Let her answer!” she snaps at him. “I want to give her the benefit of the doubt. She can’t be expected to know all the companies Jeremy Stonehart owns.” She looks at me, and her voice takes on an almost pleading quality. “Can she?” she finishes softly.

  I bite my lip, as I always do when I’m indecisive, nervous.

  Do I lie? Do I look my friend straight in the face and deny that I knew the link?

  Or, do I muster up the courage to tell them the truth? Do I admit to my deceit? Do I tell them, “Yes, I brought you here because I wanted to be close to Jeremy. I wanted to have the ability to speak with him, one-on-one, without you knowing!”

  Do I tell them that he came to pay me a visit last night?

  Well, that last part, nobody has to know.

  “Lilly?” Fey interrupts me. I realize a long time has passed without my having spoken. “Did you know?”

  I look at her. I meet her eyes. And I roll my shoulders back, sit up tall, and answer her with full confidence.

  “Yes,” I say.

  Her eyes widen and her jaw drops. She looks at me as if seeing somebody else. As if seeing a whole different person.

  Then, the explosion comes.

  “I can’t believe this!” she almost screams. “Lilly, I can’t believe you would do that to us! Don’t you know the type of man he is? Don’t you know the kind of danger we’re in, just being here?” She snatches up her purse, and goes to grab Robin. “Come on. We’re leaving. We’re not spending another moment in this place. I already put my neck on the line just coming to California. That was for her benefit.” She addresses me that way, as if pretending that I’m not in the room. “Everything we did, you and I, this whole weekend, and before, has been for her benefit. And how does she repay that? How does she say, ‘Thank you, Fey, thank you, Robin, for looking out for me!’ By setting us up in this fucking suicide trap!”

  Shit.

  Fey never swears. Those words come up only when she’s really and truly angry.

  “It’s clear how little we mean to her, Robin, if she would risk us like this!”

  “Fey,” he starts, slightly hesitating, but still firm.
“Calm down. We’re not in danger, or else do you think I would have let us come back? Maybe Lilly has a good reason for not telling us. We’ve committed this much to her. We can’t exactly back off now, without even giving her a chance to explain.”

  Thank you, Robin, I think to myself, for at least having some trust in me.

  “Oh, yes we can!” Fey exclaims. “We can and we will! You can’t just take things like that in stride, Robin! She lied to us. You’re lucky I’m so angry with her that I can’t be pissed at you. You knew about it since the morning, and you’re only now telling me? What happened to being partners for life, Robin? What happened to not holding secrets from one another, ever?”

  “I didn’t hold it back from you,” he says softly. Under Fey’s barrage, he seems to wilt a bit. “I just…delayed that’s all. For Lilly’s sake.”

  “You’re lucky I love you, babe,” Fey says, softening somewhat. “Because that explanation would not fly from anybody else.” She glares at me. “Her, for example. Do you think she was just delaying, as well? Or was she never planning to tell us?”

  “Fey, I’m right here,” I exclaim, growing angry and surging to my feet. “You can speak to me directly!”

  She lifts her chin. “I don’t speak to liars,” she announces.

  “Fey,” Robin tugs her arm. “Sit down. Let’s hear Lilly out. What have we got to lose? Maybe she had a good reason for doing what she did.”

  “Oh, I sincerely doubt that,” Fey scoffs. But she does sit down, there beside Robin. She crosses her arms and legs and angles her body away from mine.

  Robin looks at me. “You can explain now, if you want.”

  I start pacing the suite.

  Explain? How do I explain?

  The reason I brought them here is the same reason I can’t let them know: I do not want them involved in anything between me and Jeremy.

  It’s more than that. I’ve dug myself into a perfect corner. I feel trapped by the stranglehold of lies piled atop more lies, piled atop deceit and conflicting desires and warring emotions.

  “The truth will set you free,” they say.