by Toni Blake
As he turned to reload his large roller in the paint tray, he saw something move and swung his gaze over his shoulder. Damn it, think of the devil-none other than Henry Ash came striding toward him through the rear of his spacious yard. He wore casual pants and a polo shirt, along with a grim expression of determination.
Nick met Henry's eyes as he approached, in no mood for whatever he'd come out here for.
"I want to talk to you," Henry said, stopping a few feet away.
"What is it? I'm busy." He turned to roll ivory paint over the pink wall.
"What happened between me and your father is old news, and you need to get over it."
He kept painting, his eyes on his work. "Ain't gonna happen."
"Do you care for my daughter, really care for her?" At this, he took a deep breath and stopped working.
Couldn't say the old guy didn't get to the point, could you? He met Henry's gaze. "Yeah, I do."
"Then that's why you have to let it go." His voice came a bit less gruff, "She didn't hurt your family, I did. I can't go back and change it I-"
"Would you if you could'!' Nick cut him off.
Henry hesitated, ''I'm not sure, to tell you the truth. But God knows I've suffered some guilt over the way things happened." "Don't talk to me about suffering."
Looking surprisingly contrite, Henry sighed and dropped his gaze before raising it again. "I didn't come out here to talk about then; I came to talk about now. If you give a damn about Lauren, you can't let the past stand between you-you can't let your hate for me stand between you. And it will, sooner or later, if you don't get it worked out in your head."
Nick thought of things he could say. He could tell Henry about suffering, just as he'd told Lauren last night. He could insist Henry was taking this thing between him and Lauren way too seriously, thinking too far into the future-but hell, he'd just told the man he cared for his daughter, and he did. Too much. No matter what thoughts swam through his head, none seemed worthwhile. Finally, he just said, "Okay."
Giving an abrupt nod. Henry Ash turned to go, but after only a few yards, he stopped and looked back. "Thank you for helping Lauren through this mess with Phil. And for pointing out the fake invoices. It would've been easy not to do that." No, old man, turned out it hadn't been so easy. "I told you, I didn't do it for you-I did it for her."
''Thank you for that then."
Nick didn't respond, not even a nod. Maybe he should've said more, but letting go of that kind of hate didn't happen in two minutes, Maybe next time, he thought as they stood staring at each other. The next time he spoke to Henry, he'd try to start letting go a little-for Lauren. This time, though, he just waited until Henry turned and walked away, then he got back to work.
As Nick drove his Wrangler toward Elaine's house, Lauren sitting next to him in a summer dress that made her look so pretty he already felt bad for his sister, he recalled the conversation he and Lauren had shared about the invitation. "Listen, Elaine invited us over for dinner, but I'll think of some way to get out of it." After his talk with Henry, he'd started feeling more and more like maybe things were moving too fast, getting out of hand.
"No. don't," she'd pleaded. "I'd like to meet Elaine. Davy. too."
He'd known she'd feel that way, yet it'd still tugged at his heart. "Really?"
"Of course." She'd sounded incredulous that he could think otherwise.
Now they were turning into the driveway, Nick squeezing the Jeep up against the bumper of Elaine's car. and he was saying, probably too gruffly, ''This is it." At least the yard looked freshly mown. and Davy had put away his bike.
"This is where you grew up?" Lauren asked as they got out.
He nodded. "We moved here after Mom died."
He found himself wondering if Lauren had ever even been out of the car in a neighborhood like this one. It was more of a sad neighborhood than a bad neighborhood. but it forced him to remember the vast differences in their lives. After approaching the house, he did something he never did: knocked, on the metal edge of the old screen door. "We're here," he half yelled, holding it open for Lauren. He followed her inside, momentarily blinded from leaving the harsh sunlight, and realized he was uneasy-probably worrying as much what they would think of her as what she would think of them. "Coming, Nick," Elaine yelled from the back of the house. "Just putting the steaks on."
Taking Lauren's hand, he led her to the kitchen just as Elaine entered through the sliding door. He hardly recognized his sister in a long, flowing skirt. Davy followed, looking lanky and shy, his shoulders hunched.
"Elaine, Davy, this is Lauren."
As she stepped forward, Nick watched the exchange carefully. "I'm so happy to meet you," she said, shaking Elaine's hand and bringing her other hand around to clasp it, turning what might've seemed a wooden gesture warm and sincere. ''Thanks for inviting me."
To his relief, Elaine smiled in reply, and it didn't look fake. He'd promised Elaine that Lauren wasn't anything like she'd expect, but he wasn't sure she'd believed him.
Elaine stepped back slightly against the kitchen table, motioning Davy forward. "He's a little shy with new people," she explained.
"Hi, Davy," Lauren said, smiling into his eyes. "I'm glad we can finally say hello. Nick talks about you all the time."
Davy stared at her, and Nick could only wonder what fears and desires swam in his brother's head at being confronted by such a lovely woman in their home. "He does?" Davy flicked a glance to Nick.
"Of course I do." "What'd you tell her?"
He had Davy's full attention now, and guessed he was a little easier for his little brother to look at. "I told her how you helped me paint the garage door and fix the gutter. I told her you helped me name my company. Remember that?" Davy smiled. "Yeah."
"I told her how you're always bringing animals home. And I told her what a big Reds fan you are." He slanted a quick wink in Lauren's direction after that one, since he'd never actually mentioned it.
"Not a Devil Rays fan, huh?" Lauren asked.
Davy's gaze flickered back to her as he shook his head. "'The Devil Rays suck."
They all laughed lightly, and Nick said to Lauren, "I taught him that."
She smiled. "Why am I not surprised?"
He noticed the table set for four. "I thought we'd eat outside," he said to Elaine. "It's nice out." The backyard was smallish compared to Lauren's, of course, but at least it was fenced and private.
Elaine gave a small smile and shook her head, grabbing his sleeve to pull him aside, but Lauren didn't seem to notice since Davy was asking her if she'd like to see his fish in the living room.-
''The table needs painting," Elaine said of their old metal patio set as Lauren followed Davy from the room. "I didn't have time, what with checking on Dad, plus he had a doctor's appointment this morning that ended up taking half the day." Nick mentally added the chore to his to-do list. "Is Dad all right?"
Elaine nodded. "Just a lot of forms to fill out for the heart specialist, and of course, the guy was running a couple of hours late, too."
"You look nice," he said, and she did-even nicer than the last time he'd seen her. "I didn't know you had any skirts."
"I picked it up at Walmart today since we were having company." She glanced toward the living room. "She seems nice." He nodded. "She is."
She glanced at the table, biting her lip. "I thought about getting wine, but I didn't know what kind, and we only have paper napkins."
"Elaine, it's fine."
She looked up at him. "She probably doesn't use paper napkins, does she?"
He sighed. "Sometimes. Sometimes not. But I eat with her all the time, and she's even been known to have a Big Mac on occasion, so relax, okay?"
"Really? A Big Mac? I wouldn't have guessed that. I just wanted things to be nice." She glanced toward the table again, set with the same dishes they'd used as kids, and Nick made another mental note: Buy Elaine some new dishes come Christmas time.
"It is nice," he promi
sed. Then, without thinking, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.
She looked at him as if he'd lost his mind, and in all honesty, he was just as shocked; he just didn't let it show. "I'll swear it never happened, " he said, then headed to the next room, where Davy was instructing Lauren on how to feed the fish. Twenty minutes later, they sat down to dinner as Nick lowered a platter of steaks to the middle of the table. Elaine had also grilled baked potatoes and corn on the cob, and baked a pan of macaroni and cheese, Davy's favorite food. "This all looks wonderful, Elaine," Lauren said, reaching for a foil-wrapped potato. "I love food from the grill; I just hardly ever take the time to make it."
Nick raised his eyebrows at Elaine as if to say, See, she s normal, then reminded Lauren of the pork chops they'd recently grilled, which launched a discussion about grilling and favorite foods.
"I made brownies for dessert," Davy offered.
"Wow," Nick said. "You're becoming a regular brownie gourmet."
"I was going to make something a little fancier," Elaine explained, "but Davy really wanted to make the brownies." Lauren gave them both a friendly smile. "You really can't beat a good brownie." If Nick could've kissed her right then, he would've.
A knock on the front screen door interrupted their meal, and before Elaine could even get up, their father's voice echoed through the house. "Just me. Do I smell the grill ?"
He was unmistakably drunk. Nick's chest tightened. He and Elaine exchanged looks, and he could tell she was as surprised as he was. "Shit," he murmured.
Lauren tuned into his emotions instantly. "It's okay, Nick," she said, placing a hand on his arm.
"No, it's not. I wanted this to be a nice night." "It will be. It is."
He pushed to his feet and met his dad in the kitchen doorway, standing nearly a head taller. "We're having dinner." His father peered up at him with a loopy smile.
"Nicky. Guess I'm jus' in time."
His first impulse was to send the old man packing, tell him he wasn't invited. Since when had he started driving himself around drunk? At least he usually had the sense to stay put or get a ride. The idea of John Armstrong running someone down in his beat-up old Skylark was enough to make Nick realize he didn't have much of a choice.
"We have company," he said, giving his father a stem look of warning. "Elaine grilled steak."
Elaine had already maneuvered one of the metal patio chairs in the door by the time Nick let their father in the kitchen; luckily it sat at the opposite end of the table from Lauren. Upon spotting her, though, John looked appropriately embarrassed at his disheveled appearance.
''This is Lauren," Nick said, sitting back down. He'd purposely not used her last name. "Lauren, my dad," he added shortly. "Hello," she offered, and he was pleased her greeting didn't sound particularly warm. He supposed she was remembering the family secret; strange, since sometimes he wondered if everyone but him had forgotten it. Time and avoidance and pain had a way of shoving ugly things under the rug. Oddly, he thought the worse the crime, the easier to forget, because you wanted to forget, so you let yourself; you let yourself keep right on going, right on functioning, right on living as if it'd never happened.
"Hi," his father said, although he seemed afraid to look at her, and Nick was glad. Either because she was too pretty to be at their table or because he somehow sensed they were at odds, Nick didn't know.
After their dad fixed his plate, Elaine steered the conversation to something she'd seen on the news, and their father ate quietly as the rest of them spoke. Nick's heart still beat too hard, but he tried his best to forget his father was there, sitting
directly to his right. He tried to think about Elaine and Davy and Lauren, tried to join in their conversation.
Sensing Nick's discomfort, Lauren had to struggle to find her rhythm in the meal after John Armstrong's arrival; even though he seemed a quiet man so far, she suspected he was probably a powder keg that could go off at any time. When the lull in talk seemed too long, she looked around for a topic-anything, and quickly found one. She'd noticed it as soon as she'd walked in the room earlier, yet hadn't commented because she'd been busy with introductions.
"That's a lovely painting." She motioned to the framed seascape on. the wall behind Davy and Elaine. The greens and tans added a soothing quality to the room, and Lauren found herself surprised she could see the brushstrokes; it wasn't just a print.
Elaine glanced over her shoulder. "You know, it's one of those things that've been hanging there so long, I guess I almost don't see it anymore. Nick painted it."
Lauren's chest went hollow to discover another shockingly gentle side to the man she'd fallen in love with. Suddenly, a word from their past came back to her-Monet. It all made sense now. Agape, she turned to him. "You painted that?" He shrugged, wiping his mouth with a napkin, but didn't look at her. "In the seventh grade."
''The seventh grade?" she echoed, still stunned. "My God, Nick. You were that talented at that age?"
He shrugged again. "It's no big deal. It was a long time ago."
"We tried to get him to paint more after that for a few years," Elaine said, "but he just wouldn't."
Nick's eyes narrowed slightly as he gave his head a slight shake, and Lauren finally tuned in on his discomfort. "Life was a little hectic for seascapes then-it was .. ."
His voice faded off. but Davy finished for him. "It's when Mom died."
Silence filled the air, thick and awkward; no one moved. Lauren, least of all, knew what to do or say, and regretted having mentioned the painting. There was a whole world contained in this house, a whole history she knew only the tiniest bits of. No wonder Nick hadn't wanted to come. She was still glad they had, but she knew now that this place and these people remained irreparably bound to that one single event twenty years ago-the death of Donna Armstrong. Because of everything that had happened afterward. they'd never moved on.
Finally, Elaine reached to pat Davy's hand. "Yes, Davy, it was. Nick, will you pass the rolls"
Nick did as he was asked, but John Armstrong quietly pushed back his chair and stepped out the sliding glass door. A few minutes later, a low, despairing wail began to drift in through the screen. It took Lauren a moment to grasp that it was John; Nick and Elaine attempted to keep talking, Nick saying how he'd gotten caught up on his billing last night, Elaine asking if anyone could eat the last piece of com.
Slowly, the sobs grew louder and more grating, and she almost couldn't believe they were sitting there acting like it wasn't happening, until Nick finally ran both his hands back through his hair. "Jesus," he bit off quietly, through gritted teeth. "You'd think he was the only one of us who lost her."
"Nick," Elaine said in an admonishing tone, but instead of continuing, she shifted her gaze uncomfortably to Lauren. "Dad never really got over our mother's death. Sometimes he still cries when someone mentions her."
Lauren only nodded, as Davy meekly said. "Sorry." "Don't be sorry, Davy," Nick said sharply. "You're allowed to talk about her." Then he turned to Lauren, their eyes meeting, and as before, she wished she could help him somehow. "I'm sorry things turned out like this."
She took his hand. "Nick, you don't have anything to be sorry for, either. It's okay. I promise."
His gaze never left hers as he lifted her hand to his mouth for a kiss.
Sadly, meeting Nick's dad almost made Lauren more sympathetic to her father's decision all those years ago, especially since she knew she'd seen only the tip of a very large iceberg where John Armstrong was concerned. But she didn't tell Nick that, of course, as they drove home from Elaine's. In fact, she decided she wouldn't pass judgment. It was long in the past, and it didn't matter what she thought. She was just sorry for the way John
hurt his children, then and now. .
Nick had apologized again when they'd first gotten in the car, but now they traveled the Gulf side streets in silence, the only sound Bruce Springsteen's "Brilliant Disguise" low on Nick's stereo.
"I'm glad you took
me there," she said above the music.
Their eyes met briefly in the darkness before he turned back to the road. "You've gotta be kidding."
"I'm not. I got to meet Davy and Elaine. And the food was great. And I learned how to feed fish."
His gaze softened, even if the rest of his expression stayed grim. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"Even about the fish?"
She smiled at his amused tone. "Yeah. Why?" "Princess, you've never sprinkled. fish food in a fishbowl before?" She shook her head. "No."
He laughed lightly, and she wasn't sure what was so funny, but she didn't mind; she was just glad to share a happy, easy moment with him. The last few days had been so emotional. Getting over the situation with Phil, dealing with the legal issues involved; and she'd gotten a message on her answering machine from Jeanne saying she'd filed for divorce and was moving to Sarasota with her sister. And then there'd been Nick, telling her the horrible truth about Davy's accident, and the uncomfortable scene with his father tonight.
As silence returned, though, she sensed Nick still being on edge, despite her assurances that what had happened over dinner was no big deal. Even as they pulled into her driveway, she saw the sorrow etched in his eyes. The sight clenched her stomach and made her want to hurt John Armstrong for being so selfish, for putting everything ahead of his children these past twenty years. She'd have given anything to wipe away Nick's pain.
"Coming in?" she asked. Sometimes it wouldn't even be a question; she'd just know he was. Other times, like tonight, it hung tenuously in the air.
He didn't answer right away. "Not sure I'd be great company."
"I don't mind," she said softly. "I do."
Only when she rested her hand on his thigh did he turn to look at her. She let heat and love and desperation mingle in her gaze. She wanted to remind him he was so much more than his father, than his family; she wanted to save him. "Nick, I want to make love to you so much right now-I want to take away everything that hurts you."
