House Without Lies (Lily’s House Book 1)

by Rachel Branton

  “My mom?” Elsie’s expression changed, becoming hopeful and wary.

  I took her hand. “She’s been wanting to see you, but you’ll still stay with us for a while, okay?” I glanced at Bea, who nodded.

  “That’s right,” Bea said. “Your mom’s been through a lot. For now, she’ll come and visit you while you’re with Lily.”

  Elsie squeezed my hand, looking relieved. “I’d like that.”

  I was her stability, not her mother. At least not yet, but I needed to accept that my job was helping her and Michelle to a point where Michelle could be a mother again and Elsie could trust her.

  After the police officer left, Bea folded her arms and shook her head as she looked around the apartment. “This is never going to pass for all these girls—I can’t even give you a temporary pass. The best I can do will be to delay the paperwork until you have something more adequate.”

  “Actually, I think I might have found a place,” Jameson said. “With all that’s happened, I didn’t even get a chance to tell Lily yet.” His voice held suppressed excitement that made me look at him closely.

  “Good,” Bea said. “June’s almost over, so Lily should be receiving the check for Zoey and Bianca any day now for that month, but checks for Ruth, Halla, and Elsie will be a lot longer in coming. I could apply for an emergency payment, though. I’ll look into it.”

  “Did you say Halla?” Halla asked. In all the confusion, she hadn’t hidden from Bea or the officer, but she did have her wig on.

  Bea turned, her sharp eyes searching Halla’s face. “Yes, I said Halla. I know about you, and I’m working on your case now. It’s going to take a few weeks to settle this, but for now, you’re officially staying here. Or rather, wherever you guys move.”

  “Yes!” Halla squealed and jumped, raising her fist in triumph. “Thank you!” She pulled off the wig. “Because this thing is horribly uncomfortable.”

  Everyone laughed, but Bea wasn’t finished. Her gazed settled on Saffron. “What I don’t know is who are you?”

  Saffron raised her hands. “Don’t mix me up in this. I’m not a kid. I’m an adult with a job. I just help Lily.”

  Bea’s gaze went to me, and I nodded. “I already told you Saffron was living with me when we first talked about Zoey and Bianca, remember?”

  “Right, the one who’s almost eighteen. I vaguely remember something about that. It’s just as well, because you’re only cleared for three foster kids for the first two years, and you’ve already got too many. Only after two years are you allowed to have five.”

  “What?” Jameson and I said at the same time. How could we have missed something like that?

  Bea raised her hand to silence further protests. “It’s not something that usually comes up in the beginning because we never place more than a few children at first. But I realize this is an unusual situation, and like always, we are extremely short on foster parents. I’m going to see what I can do.” She sighed. “That seems to be my mantra where you’re concerned.”

  “Uh, thank you?” I said.

  Bea gave me a smirk. “I’ll be going now. Let me know about the new place.”

  Ruth walked with her to the door, chattering about their similar hair styles.

  Jameson sat down next to me on the couch, the bag of ice I’d given him for his eye leaking over his jeans. “I thought I’d make an appointment for us to see the place I found tomorrow after I get off work. Can you make it?”

  I smiled. “Yeah. Thank you.”

  His hand closed over mine. “Lily, I can honestly say that the past weeks I’ve known you have been the strangest and most interesting in my entire life.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Interesting good? Or interesting bad?” Seriously, I was surprised he hadn’t run for the hills to get away from my crazy life.

  He moved closer until our faces were only a few inches apart. “Definitely good.”

  Then he kissed me, and I kissed him back, even with all the girls watching us.

  17

  Jameson picked me up after work the next day. He was no longer limping, but his eye and the skin around it was mottled black. “How’s your eye?” I asked. “Looks painful.”

  “Lots better. Looks worse than it feels. Ankle’s good too. Amazing what a little ice and an elastic wrap can do.”

  We talked on the drive, but his comments were distracted. I’d never seen him so nervous. “It’s okay,” I told him. “If I don’t like it, we’ll just find something else. Bea will give us a few more days.”

  “You’ll like it. But, well, it’s not perfect.” Then he hurried to add, “But it could be with some work.”

  Work? What kind of an apartment took work? And why was it so far away from downtown?

  I had my answers when he pulled into a residential area with older houses set far apart. He stopped the Mustang in front of a white two-story Victorian with a covered wraparound porch. It was big and the lines were beautiful, but it was, kindly put, a horrible wreck. The paint was peeling, the porch railings were missing or broken, the glass in almost every window was busted and patched with cardboard and duct tape, the screen on the front door was ripped, part of the rain gutter hung loose, and the overgrown yard looked like something from a horror movie.

  To me it might just be The House.

  “How many bedrooms?” I asked, climbing from the car without taking my eyes from the house.

  “Seven, and there’s enough land out back to extend the house, if it’s ever needed. The fields on either side and out back don’t belong to the house, but the owners might be persuaded to sell them in the future. I think the yard’s plenty big as it is.”

  “Can we go inside?”

  “Yeah. The neighbors down the way have the key, and they should have unlocked the door for us. They’re related somehow to the owner.”

  We passed a picket fence that was more gray than white and had at least a dozen fallen or damaged boards. The walkway was also cracked and broken and would need replacement.

  “About the only thing that doesn’t need fixing is the roof,” Jameson said. “That’s why it’s still integrally sound. But I’m afraid the inside is just as bad as out here.”

  “You saw it before?”

  “Yesterday on my lunch break. I wanted to make sure there was a possibility before I brought you here. Actually, my dad came to look at it as well. He knows about these things.”

  Antonio had come to look at my house? The idea made me feel almost weepy.

  Jameson hadn’t exaggerated about the inside. Every single bit of carpet would need replacing and all the walls repainting. Many would have to be repaired first. There were four bathrooms, but they were all missing toilets. The master bedroom was on the main floor, looking over the back yard and the fenced field beyond. It had a private bathroom and a little alcove for a desk or maybe a crib.

  The rest of the rooms were small, but enough for two beds. There was a mudroom, and I could envision a row of wooden lockers for each of the girls.

  The kitchen was the biggest mess of all, but it was spacious. Plenty of room for a large table, though the tiny window in the dining area would need to be replaced with something five times that size. Was that even possible? It had to be. The yellow laminated countertops weren’t beautiful, but they were in decent shape. Even the cracked linoleum might be salvaged for a time, though it would be the first to go if I found the money.

  I’d have to find used appliances to replace those that were missing, and the cupboards needed sanding and painting. White, I thought. It would be so much nicer and more welcoming than that scuffed, dark color.

  It was definitely The House. My house.

  I turned to Jameson, who was looking at me with a hesitant expression in his eyes. “It’s perfect,” I said, taking both his hands. “Absolutely perfect.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Only you could see the potential in this mess.”

  “But you worried I wouldn’t.”

  �
�Kind of. You didn’t grow up like this; I did, and I know it can work.”

  I hugged him, kissing him firmly on the mouth. “Thank you. We can do the work ourselves, if the monthly payments are . . .” I looked down feeling suddenly shy. He’d found the house, but did that mean he was in for the work? Did that mean he wanted me? “The monthly payment . . . it might be more than I can swing.”

  Jameson blew out a breath that I sensed had worry in it. “Well, the house isn’t cheap even in this condition, mostly because of the size and the land, but there are loans that have a balloon payment.”

  “A balloon payment . . .” My thoughts churned, bringing up what I’d learned about those in my accounting classes. “That’s where you pay a lower amount for five or seven years every month, and then you have to pay the rest in one chunk or refinance.”

  “Exactly. We take the lower monthly payments in the hopes that things will get better in five years.” He hesitated several heartbeats before adding, “And they will. We’ll both be graduated by then.”

  We, he’d said. No mistaking that.

  My mind was already running along those same lines. In eight years I’d receive my grandfather’s inheritance. Eight years, that is, if I was single. If I was married, it would only be three. Three years—which meant in plenty of time to pay down the mortgage enough to refinance, if not pay it off altogether.

  We could definitely do it! Of course, Jameson didn’t know about my inheritance, or not the details, though I might have mentioned something in passing. It hadn’t been relevant until now.

  Jameson’s hand tightened on mine. “Renting out a room or two might also be an option, but with my job and yours and some of the foster care money, I think we could—”

  “You have to marry me,” I said.

  Jameson’s eyes had a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression. Did that mean he was averse to the idea? “It’s just that I have an inheritance,” I hurried on. “I get it when I turn twenty-five, if I’m married. Otherwise, it’s not until I’m thirty, and so if we got married, we’d have enough money to—”

  He put his hand over my lips. “Really? You’re proposing to me? Because of an inheritance? You’re ruining everything!” His tone was only half teasing.

  I laughed, my confidence surging at his expression. His worry was gone and so was his hesitance. “Yeah, I guess I am. The question is, are you man enough to handle it?”

  “Look, maybe you should just zip it for a minute, okay? Let me get a word in edgewise. Because I am so not marrying you for an inheritance.”

  “Okay,” I said meekly, but I couldn’t help nibbling the finger he still held near my lips.

  Stifling laughter, he knelt down on the dusty linoleum and pulled a folded manila envelope from his pocket. A piece of loose tile shifted under his knee, but he simply moved over and started talking.

  “You’ve turned my life upside down since the first day I met you, but I’ve loved every crazy minute. You’re a light to me, and I’ve seen enough to know that the only way I’m ever going to be happy is if I’m a part of your life. A part of you. I want to slay your dragons, fend off the abusive fathers of our foster girls—or whatever else you need. I want to hold you every night when I go to sleep and see your face first thing in the morning. I want to make love to you knowing that we’re never going to end. I love you, Lily Crawford. So much.” He opened the flap of the manila envelope. “These are the offer papers I want to put in for the house. I know it’s not a ring, but—”

  I grabbed the envelope. “It’s a thousand times better.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  “I think we already established that.” I pulled him up to kiss him, my mouth opening to his. Heat shuddered through me as his tongue slid over mine, setting my skin on fire. I loved this man. I loved his eyes, his mouth, his hands and the way they touched me. I loved his kindness, how good he was with the girls, how willing to step into danger. I even loved his family, and I wanted to spend every second of the rest of my life with him.

  “But,” I told him, when we came up for breath, “I still asked you first.”

  He grinned. “That’s not the way I remember it. Guess it’s your word against mine. But since we’re getting married, and I’m already licensed as a foster parent—”

  “Wait, you are?”

  “Yeah, for two years now, but it’s just for emergencies. My roommates don’t like it since I have to give up my room and sleep on the couch for however long Bea needs me. But the point is, we can keep all the girls without Bea going crazy.”

  “Two years? You can have five kids then. That means we can get more.”

  Jameson laughed. “Can we get moved in first? The ones we already have are going to make a honeymoon awfully hard.”

  He kissed me again, and for a long time we forgot about foster girls and houses—and we were almost locked inside the house when the family down the road came to check the doors.

  “There is one thing,” I said as we walked out to the car, hand in hand. “I’ll need to tell my parents.”

  “I thought we could elope.” He winked to show he was kidding.

  “That actually might be best.”

  My parents had big dreams for me, and those didn’t include marrying into a blue-collar family and buying a rundown house. I didn’t fool myself into thinking they’d come around any time soon. My mother still hadn’t talked to me since I refused to go home, except through Tessa when she wanted to make sure I still planned to come home on the Fourth.

  That was it. The Fourth was on Saturday, only a few days away, and I could tell them then. If all went well, Jameson could come down on Sunday. Whatever happened, I vowed to make this my last holiday away from the girls. From now on, if my parents wanted me there, it was all of us or nothing. “What are you doing on Sunday?” I asked.

  His kisses trailed up my neck to my lips, as if he couldn’t get enough of me. “Going to see your parents?”

  “Hopefully. You mentioned slaying dragons? Better bring your sword.”

  18

  We gathered the girls and told them the good news—that we were about to spend all the rest of their summer vacation painting, repairing, and otherwise refurbishing an old house. No one seemed to mind.

  “I just want to know one thing,” Saffron said. “Can I have my own room?” When we nodded, she grinned. “Then I’m in, but I’m paying something for food and rent. I want to pull my weight.”

  “I think we’ll allow that,” Jameson said, settling on one of the folded-up chair beds, “just as long as we agree that only married people get to make out in that house. In other words, no boy sleepovers.”

  “Ah, you take all the fun out of it.” Saffron rolled her eyes. “If I ever find a boy worthy of sleeping over, I’d probably marry him. But don’t hold your breath because I’m sure he doesn’t exist.”

  The girls began talking about rooms and how they’d contribute to the new house, and the din grew to a point that I almost missed the doorbell. Ruth beat me to the peephole. For a moment I tensed, though I knew Elsie’s father had been arrested.

  “It’s Makay and Nate!” Ruth flung open the door.

  Makay was carrying a sleeping Nate and a large suitcase. Her face was white and tear-stained as she struggled under the weight. I took the toddler from her while Ruth grabbed the suitcase.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “It’s Fern. She died. This is some stuff from her apartment.”

  “Your stepmother’s dead? What happened?”

  “It’s been so awful.”

  The girls jumped up from the couch, clearing a place for Makay, which she sank into with a sigh. “I found out this morning,” she said. “Apparently, she’s been gone a few days.” Her face dropped to her hands, as if covering it would remove the image from her mind.

  “You found her?” Jameson asked.

  Makay lifted her head. “Yes. I called the police. They suspect a drug overdose.”

  “Why didn
’t you call me?” I asked, sitting next to her.

  “I was fine. It’s not like we got along, and all she does is confuse Nate. It was only after we got to the police station that things got bad.” She stopped talking, biting her lip to stop herself from crying. “Now I have to prove I’m a fit parent for my brother, or they’ll send him to foster care. There’s no way they’ll ever approve me where I live now. At least I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure all my roommates are doing drugs.”

  “There’s a lot more leeway with related siblings,” Jameson said. “I’m sure they’ll give you time to work it out, but even if they don’t . . .” He paused, looking at me. I knew what he was thinking, and it made me love him all the more.

  “But I’m only eighteen—well, nineteen in another month,” Makay rushed on, missing the look between us. “And I have no family and no real job and no one to leave him with so I can work.” She reached to take Nate from me, as if needing him back in her arms. “The social worker who came to the police station told me he’d be better off with an established couple.”

  I settled him in her arms. “You’re Nate’s mother—you’re all he knows. He belongs with you. But what do you mean, you don’t have family? You have us.”

  “That’s right,” Halla said. “I’ll watch Nate. I’ve been wishing you’d leave him more. We all have.” The other girls murmured in agreement.

  Jameson lifted a finger. “Uh, I also know how to babysit. And our new house is going to be plenty big for you and Nate.”

  Makay looked around us, her panic fading. Suddenly she laughed. “Okay, okay. I’m an idiot, a total idiot. Of course Nate is better off with me, and of course I have all of you. But our new house? What did I miss?”

  “They’re getting married!” Ruth said.

  “And buying a big house,” Elsie added.

  Saffron dropped to the carpet by our feet. “I hope you know how to paint.”

  “Nope.” Makay shook her head. “Not at all. But Google knows everything.”