by Shawna Seed
He looked at her, those blue eyes holding steady. “Is that what you want?”
Was that what she wanted? Elizabeth, who was used to being very sure about things, was suddenly less sure about everything.
“Would you like to see me again?” Brian’s voice was softer now. “Because I would like to see you again.” He smiled. “I could be the new what’s-his-name – the guy in Georgia. What’s halfway between here and Tallahassee? New Orleans? Biloxi? We could meet.”
Elizabeth allowed herself a moment with the idea. It would be wonderful to recapture that feeling she’d had with Wyatt, those hours spent in her car on Friday nights, knowing that at the end of her trip someone was waiting for her.
She savored the possibility, then she let it go. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Brian.”
Brian wasn’t ready to give up. “I’m willing to drive to Mississippi a few times to find out.”
“It’s not fair to you.”
“I guess I can decide that for myself,” he said.
Brian hadn’t showered yet, and his cowlick was sticking up at the back of his head. She’d always thought his cowlick made him seem boyish. She felt tender toward Brian. She didn’t want to hurt him.
“It’s just that there’s…” Elizabeth faltered.
“No future for the librarian and the felon?”
“That’s not it, Brian. You know that’s not how I think of you.”
“What is it, then?”
“There’s no future for Brian Lowry and Elizabeth Ellsworth.”
Brian sat with that a minute, fiddling with his coffee cup.
“And there’s no chance you would ever want to be…”
“Sharlah Webb again? I could go to prison, Brian. I don’t have a family that would give me a place to stay and a job when I got out. I’d have nothing, and no one.”
“You would have me,” Brian said. He gestured around his half-done kitchen. “Obviously, I’m basically broke, but anything I could do for you, I would.”
“I can’t ask that of you.”
“You didn’t ask. I’m offering.”
When Elizabeth didn’t answer, he pushed back a little from the table. He seemed to accept that the conversation was over. “Offer’s good any time,” he said.
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
“Can I ask a favor?”
Part of Elizabeth wanted to say yes, of course, but she was wary. “What is it?”
“Can I have a picture of you?”
“A picture?”
“All of the pictures of you were ruined in the hurricane,” Brian said. “The only thing I have is your school picture from first grade.”
“I saw that on the website. Where on earth did you get that?”
“From your dad.”
“My dad?”
Brian picked up her empty plate, and Elizabeth slid her cup toward him. Brian carried the dishes to the sink. “I went to see him once.”
The idea that Brian met her father filled Elizabeth with shame, which surprised her.
“Oh, Brian. Why?”
“I guess the best way to put it is, I felt like you were slipping away from me, and I didn’t want that. I wanted to hold on to whatever little piece of you I could find.”
“But my dad? He’s so awful.”
Or was he? She hadn’t seen her father since she was 17. Perhaps he’d changed.
“He was awful,” Brian said. He turned on the water and scrubbed the dishes. “It wasn’t a great idea, but at least I got the photo out of it. He’s dead now. Three years ago.”
Elizabeth thought she should feel something, but she didn’t.
Brian turned to face her. “Will you let me take a photo? I swear to you that no one else will ever see it.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “It’s OK.”
“Let me get my camera from my desk,” Brian said. “Be right back.”
He squeezed her shoulder as he passed out into the hall.
Seconds after he walked out of the kitchen, Brian was back, a stricken look on his face.
“My dad’s here. He’s parked at the curb and walking up the sidewalk.”
“What?” Elizabeth stood so quickly that her chair nearly toppled over. “Did you tell him?”
“Of course not! You heard everything.” Brian grabbed the back of the chair to steady it. “I don’t know why he’s here – he never drops in. He always calls first.”
“Should I…”
“What if it’s Coco?” Brian said. “If her fever spiked, there’s a risk of...”
There was a knock at the front door, and they both jumped.
“I’ll go back to the bedroom,” Elizabeth said.
Brian shook his head. “He can see down the hall from the front porch. Stay here in the kitchen. I’ll see what he wants.”
Brian stepped into the hallway and pulled the kitchen door firmly closed. His footsteps echoed down the hall.
Elizabeth sat at the table feeling vaguely embarrassed and guilty, like she had the time Renee Lowry found her and Brian kissing in the hall after Thanksgiving dinner.
She heard the front door open.
“Good morning, son,” Mitch boomed. “How are you this morning?”
“What’s going on, Dad? Is Coco OK?”
Brian’s voice had a note of panic in it, and Elizabeth cringed.
“Aw, shoot, I didn’t mean to worry you showing up like this,” Mitch said. “Coco’s fine. She was up and down all night, but she’s OK.”
The voices had not progressed any closer, and Elizabeth imagined that Brian was standing in the doorway, keeping his father on the porch.
“I thought maybe I could talk you out of a cup of real coffee,” Mitch said.
“Sure,” Brian said, sounding perfectly calm now. “I’ve got some made. Why don’t I bring it out and we can sit on the porch?”
“I can tell you ain’t been out yet today,” Mitch said. “It’s hot as blazes. I’m sweating just standing here.”
Brian laughed. “You’re right; I haven’t been up very long. C’mon in. Have a seat. I’ll just get the coffee.”
Elizabeth looked around her, frantic. Only a sheet of plastic separated the kitchen from the dining room, which was open to the living room. Mitch might easily spot her.
She considered heading out the back door, toward the garage, but the dining room had a window that looked out over the patio and back yard.
Brian’s footsteps came toward the kitchen, and his voice seemed louder than necessary. “Why don’t you turn on SportsCenter, Dad?”
“Aw, that’s all right,” Mitch said. “I don’t need to watch TV.”
His voice was getting closer. He was following Brian down the hall.
Elizabeth’s eyes fell on the door to the attic. She crept across the kitchen as quietly as she could and opened the door, hoping the hinges wouldn’t squeak.
“Have you had breakfast?” Judging by Brian’s voice, he was right outside the kitchen. “We could go out, if you wanted. There’s that place over on Heights Boulevard – their coffee is better than mine.”
Elizabeth pulled the attic door partway closed and then realized, in a flash, that her overnight bag was still sitting in the middle of the kitchen.
She calculated the odds, then scuttled back across the kitchen and grabbed it.
“You’re not even dressed, son,” Mitch said. “I don’t mean to roust you. I just thought we could have some coffee and talk a little.”
Elizabeth was halfway to the attic door.
“The kitchen’s pretty much a mess,” Brian said.
Elizabeth heard the kitchen door scrape on the floor behind her. She pulled open the attic door and climbed up two steps, pulling the door half-closed behind her.
Mitch laughed. “When has it ever not been a mess? It was a worse mess when you bought the place.”
He was in the kitchen now. Elizabeth didn’t dare close the attic door the rest of the way. Carefully, quietly, sh
e put her bag down and lowered herself to sit on the steps.
She heard the clatter of the cups as Brian pulled them down from the cupboard and the slosh of the coffee as he filled them.
Mitch sighed. She imagined he’d just taken a chair.
“What’s this about, Dad? It’s not like you to just show up.”
“I apologize for busting in on you like this, Brian. But you didn’t sound right last night, and I was sitting up with Coco and you know how everything seems worse in the middle of the night? I just got so worried. I wanted to check on you.”
“I’m OK,” Brian said. “Yesterday was a long day, that’s all. I wish you wouldn’t worry so much.”
“It’s not just me,” Mitch said. “Frannie said you seemed down the other day when she picked up Coco.”
“I’m always sad when Coco goes home.”
Brian was trying to be funny, but Elizabeth mostly heard wistfulness.
“Frannie thought maybe you were worried about the business. Is that it? I thought you were feeling better after we went over the numbers last week.”
“Yeah, that helped,” Brian said.
“I sure wish you’d let me loan you the money to do the garage,” Mitch said. “I think that’s a real smart move. Every business needs credit now and then – sometimes you have to spend money to make money.”
Brian mumbled something Elizabeth couldn’t make out.
There was a long silence then, broken only by the clink of a spoon in a coffee cup.
“What’s new with that gal you’ve been seeing?”
What? Brian hadn’t mentioned a woman in his life; in fact, he’d left her with exactly the opposite impression. She couldn’t believe he would… Elizabeth stopped the thought. She should be glad Brian had someone in his life. He deserved to be happy.
She leaned toward the door, wanting to be sure she caught Brian’s response.
“It didn’t work out,” Brian said.
“Aw, Brian, I’m sorry to hear that. I know you liked her. What happened?”
“What usually happens,” Brian said. “I told her I had a record, and, you know. That was pretty much it.”
“I swear, I don’t know what’s wrong with these women who can’t look past that.”
“Dad,” Brian said quietly, “it’s fine. She was very nice about it. She’s got a 13-year-old daughter, and she didn’t think…”
“What’s that got to do with anything? You’re not a child molester!”
Elizabeth found herself nodding in agreement with Mitch. Brian had so much to offer, and any woman who couldn’t see that was an idiot.
“She didn’t say it like that,” Brian said. “It’s more that her daughter’s at an age where she’s got to talk to her about being careful who your friends are, and then, you know, she’s dating someone who was in prison...”
Brian trailed off, not bothering to complete the thought.
“I know you feel like it’s real important to tell the truth early on, so nobody feels misled,” Mitch said. “But sometimes I think it would be better to let things go on a little longer, let these gals get to appreciate all your good qualities, then…”
“Dad…”
“I’m just saying there’s such a thing as being too honest, Brian. That’s your problem. You’re too honest.”
The sounds that came next were hard to identify – a crash and what sounded like a muffled cry.
“Brian? What’s wrong?”
Elizabeth’s heart began to beat faster.
“Sit down, son, simmer down and let’s talk about it. Let me get some paper towels and we’ll get the coffee cleaned up…”
Elizabeth heard rustling sounds, then the lid of the trash can opening and closing.
“I know I meddle sometimes where I shouldn’t,” Mitch said. “I don’t mean anything by it, you know that.”
“It’s fine, Dad. Sorry.” Brian’s voice was low and resigned. “I’m not mad. I just…”
He’s going to tell him right now, Elizabeth thought.
“There’s something I’ve never been honest with you about,” Brian said.
Trapped in the attic stairwell, Elizabeth leaned her head against the wall and waited.
“We’ve never talked about why I was hauling drugs,” Brian said.
“Honestly, son, that’s so long ago that I’m not sure it matters anymore. You did what you did and paid the price. You should be focused on your future and…”
“Kevin asked me to do it.”
It all came out in a rush then: Kevin’s gambling troubles, Brian’s initial refusal, the threats, then, finally, his arrest.
Brian stopped talking. Elizabeth held her breath.
“You… you say Kevin got you into that mess,” Mitch sputtered, “and then he didn’t lift a finger to help you?”
“He was worried about Lynn and Ashley.”
“Bullshit,” Mitch said. “He was worried about Kevin.” His voice rose. “He’s never worried about anyone but Kevin. I know your mother and I did just about everything wrong with you boys, but I still can’t for the life of me understand how he ended up with no conscience at all.”
“It’s not your fault, Dad.”
“How could he do that to his own brother? Why didn’t you say something?”
“When I realized he wasn’t going to step up, I figured what was the point of us both going to prison? It was better for everybody if it was just me,” Brian said.
“Oh, Brian…”
Mitch began to cry, and Brian tried to calm him.
It only lasted a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity to Elizabeth. She clamped her hand over her mouth, and hot tears splashed onto her fingers.
“Let me get you some water, Dad,” Brian said.
Elizabeth heard the scrape of a chair, then water running.
“I got on you boys for crying when you were little, told you it was for sissies.” Mitch choked out the words. “Look at me now.”
As soon as Mitch caught his breath, he said, “It’s because you thought we loved you less, isn’t it? Because you didn’t do as well at school as Kevin, because you weren’t a star at football. You thought I loved you less, didn’t you?”
Elizabeth’s heart broke for Brian. How could he answer that question?
“Yeah,” Brian said softly. “I thought that then. I know better now.”
“I’m sorry, son. I’m so, so sorry.”
“There’s something else,” Brian said.
This is going to crush both of them, Elizabeth thought. I should have let it go.
Then she thought about Missy, dead on her condo floor because she was hungry for attention, dead because she couldn’t keep a secret.
She thought about Kevin. She’d pleaded with him that day she’d called from Kansas City, desperate for once last chance to see Brian. He’d lied to her, because that was what he did. He let others face the consequences of what he’d set in motion.
“It’s bad,” Brian said. “I don’t know what to do but say it: I think Kevin killed Missy.”
“What?” Mitch’s voice was shrill.
“Missy knew,” Brian said. “I think Kevin killed her so she wouldn’t tell.”
“I don’t understand,” Mitch said. “The police said the person who killed her was the fella she was seeing on the sly, that crooked cop.”
“I think it was Kevin she was seeing,” Brian said. “They… they had a history. Kevin slept with her in high school.”
“Are you just guessing here?”
“I’m pretty sure,” Brian said.
Disbelief edged into Mitch’s voice. “You thought your brother murdered that girl, and you kept quiet about it all this time?”
“No,” Brian said. “I didn’t think it, not then.”
“I don’t understand,” Mitch said. “Did you think back then that Kevin was sneaking around with her?”
“No.” Brian’s voice was growing softer.
Leave him alone! Elizabeth wanted to
shout. She jammed her fist into her mouth and bit her knuckle so hard that she drew blood. The metallic taste filled her mouth.
“Why, Brian? Why now?”
“I’m not doing a very good job explaining,” Brian said. “I just… I know it, OK? I don’t want it to be true. But it is. I can’t explain. I need you to believe me, because…”
Elizabeth sat on the stairs, helpless, as Brian’s words trailed off.
She thought of her last visit to Brian at the jail, how she’d sat on her side of the glass, watching him cry, powerless to help him.
That was the worst feeling in the world, watching someone she loved suffer and not being able to help.
She hadn’t known what to do back then, but she knew what to do now.
Elizabeth rose to her feet, pushed open the attic door and walked into the kitchen.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Not In Time
Not In Time
A Lost Art Investigation
Art historian Genevieve McKenna, who just lost her museum job, lands an exciting assignment: Trace the path of a drawing the Nazis stole in Paris and restore it to the rightful owners.
Julien Brooks, whose family claims the drawing, has vital information. He also has a killer smile and speaks flawless French. She's eager to get to know him better. A lot better.
But someone — could it be Julien? — seems very determined to thwart her work.
And why does she keep having bizarre flashbacks to a place she’s certain she’s never been? Mental illness ruined her mother’s life. Is that Genevieve's fate?
On a research trip to Paris, Genevieve confronts her growing attraction to Julien and the truth about those flashbacks. What she learns will reveal the real story of her mother, the heroism of Julien’s family and the heartbreak of a doomed romance.
It may also cost her and Julien their lives.
Not In Time -- A Lost Art Investigation
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