I chuckle and shake my head.
“This one’s kind of a special circumstance, so no, I didn’t get a payday out of what happened here. If I did, we might have met a little earlier. Look here.”
I point out some old files I dug up tied to the property’s title.
“The house was foreclosed on, but the homeowner was only two payments late. Going for foreclosure after two late payments is insane. Most of the time, it would be way cheaper on the bank’s part to just keep pushing to collect those missing payments instead of foreclosing on the whole property.”
Lila nodded curtly, understanding. She definitely knew more about banking foreclosure than I did, I was just trying to make sense of it from a layman’s point of view.
“Unless,” I say, “there’s something the bank knew at the time that the homeowner didn’t.”
She furrows her brow, and in response, I open another page of information about a condo in development from a few years ago.
“Look here— a condo was supposed to go up right on top of this neighborhood,” I say with a scornful undertone. “This guy who owned the house was the only person in the neighborhood who wouldn’t sell, and around that time just happens to be when the house went to foreclosure.”
“Oh my god,” Lila breathes, putting a hand to her mouth.
“It gets worse,” I say, pulling up an old fundraising website page. “The guy’s kids helped him set up a fundraiser online to help him save his house. His family, friends, and the whole community got together and helped him pool enough cash to buy his house back at the bank auction.”
“That’s amazing,” Lila says.
“It really is,” I chuckle in agreement, “and that’s what made it so suspicious that the house went up in flames not long after that.”
“How did this not make national news? This is criminal!” Lila says, sounding more outraged by the second.
“The nice fuzzy part about the fundraiser online made headlines,” I say. “But as usual, the aftermath didn’t. Bankers get away with this shit every day, I hate to tell you.”
Lila looks over the pages with a face that fell more every moment, and it breaks my heart. But it’s something I learned the hard way, and sometimes, people have to see things for themselves before they get on the same page.
“The only silver lining is the obvious,” I say, leaning back and crossing my arms. “The fire was ruled suspicious, because whoever your dad had torch the place wasn’t quite careful enough. So, the land couldn’t be sold to developers after all.”
“I remember Dad being in a horrible mood for about a week and ranting about some big loss some time just after these news articles are dated,” Lila says with a rim of tears around her eyes. “It all lines up perfectly.”
Monster or not, it’s hard to realize just how much evil your own father really is.
“The other silver lining, if you can call it that, is that the homeowner is doing okay now,” I say. “But he’s living with his kids and grandkids at a house they bought down the road.”
“Then let’s go have a talk with him,” Lila says, standing up already and looking at me with a kind of resolved determination that I truly admire. “I don’t want to let this go. I’m ready to move if you are.”
“Thought you’d never say so,” I chuckle as I stand up with her. “Let’s ride.”
There’s something special about the feeling of Lila behind me on my motorcycle as we roar down the road. I fantasized about it during the first few days we knew each other, but even that can’t compare to how right it feels when she’s actually there, arms around my waist, gripping me tight as she feels the engine rumble under us.
Her face is almost touching my shoulder, and I know the autumn scents and faint smell of leather are all around her.
We passed the burned-out house a few minutes ago, deciding it was better to talk to the owner and resist the temptation to spend some time sifting through remains until we’d done so.
“Up here, on the right,” I call back to Lila as we approach the house, and it’s easy to tell that this is the correct place.
There are three small children running around the yard outside, playing in a huge pile of dead leaves that seem to have been gathered up in a pile for that exact purpose. None of them can be older than 8 years old. They come to a stop as my loud motorcycle slows to a halt on the curb, though, and almost immediately, the front door opens, and an older man in a big sweater with the last of his gray hair turning white steps outside, looking apprehensively at us.
To my relief, Lila hops off my bike first, taking off her helmet and shaking out her hair beautifully before smiling and waving at the man. She’s a much better spokesperson than I could ever be, so I’m glad to have her be the one who does the talking in situations like this.
And sure enough, ten minutes later, all three of us are sitting on the porch of the house with piping-hot mugs of hot chocolate the sweet old man made us while the kids resume playing (occasionally stealing longing glances at my bike).
“Yeah, I figured all along Ed Hawthorne pulling the strings in that fiasco,” the old man, whose name he told us was Jon, explains. “That’s not me being cynical, that’s just what all of us in the neighborhood knew as plain and simple fact.”
“How’d everyone get on that idea?” Lila asked while I took a sip of the sweet drink.
“Well, besides the fact that the damn condo they wanted so badly was being planned by a company he’s got his hands deep into,” Jon says, “he had his boys come ‘round here a few times. You live in a place long enough, you start to notice who works for who.”
“His ‘boys’?” Lila asks.
“Thugs,” I clarify curtly, and Jon nods gravely, though he glances around as if worried someone could be watching the conversation.
“They came to scope the place out, even once when my kids and the grandkids were visiting,” Jon says ruefully. “Bastards. My daughter’s husband thought I was crazy, but that showed him. Still, I’m grateful to the two of them— this is their house. I’m retired now, except for minding the grandkids,” he adds with a chuckle.
“Oh my god,” Lila breathed, and I don’t think she realizes she’s doing it, but she subtly moves closer to me, leaning against my side. “That’s…I’m so sorry, Jon.”
I feel her hand slip into mine, and on just as much reflex, I give it a squeeze.
“I’ll be honest, it was a hard time in my life,” he says, frowning and looking out to the kids, who look like they’re having the time of their lives, laughing and screaming at each other. “But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I don’t think I can hold onto bitterness. I would be in a dark place right now if it weren’t for the love my family and my community showed me. Don’t think I paid for groceries for a full year after the arson,” he says, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes with a chuckle.
“It looks like you have a loving household here,” Lila agrees, smiling, but even she has tears in her eyes now.
“I do. I count my blessings,” he says, nodding. “I’ve had to learn how to turn my sadness into love. That was hard, and it’s even harder without closure. That burned out house was maybe a week or two of anger for Ed Hawthorne. For me, it’s a lifetime of work I’ll never get back.”
Lila is leaning into me completely now, and Jon looks between the two of us with a growing smile.
“I don’t know what brings the two of you poking around here, but I appreciate the company from a lovely young couple like yourselves,” he says with a heartfelt smile.
Lila seems to realize what she’s been doing, and she blushes, but she doesn’t take her hand away either.
“If there’s one thing my wife and I got to know while we were going through all this, it’s how much we love each other when the going gets tough,” he goes on. “I can see that in you two. Whatever it is you’re doing, I hope the two of you have a love story that you can look back on as much as we do.”
Lila looks
touched, and I’d be lying if I said I’m not feeling the same thing. I squeeze Lila’s hand gently, then down the rest of my hot chocolate before standing up slowly.
“Thanks, Jon. This has been helpful. I’m doing a little digging, and I’ll let you know if we turn up anything that can get you that closure.”
“I gave up holding my breath a long time ago, young man,” Jon chuckles, shaking my hand firmly. “But I appreciate it.”
“Thank you,” Lila says, hugging the hold man, and a few moments later, we’re walking back across the yard hand-in-hand.
Lila squeezes my hand as we get to the bike, and I look down at her as I get my keys out and she puts her helmet on.
“Chains,” she says, looking up at me resolutely. “I want to meet my mom.”
Lila
I sit on the park bench across the street from the cafe, staring inside at the woman Chains identified as my mother.
And I still can’t believe it.
“You’re positive it’s her?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says firmly. “As sure as the last three times you asked.”
“Sorry, I just…” I struggle to find the words.
Chains puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes.
“There’s no easy way to meet someone you thought was dead,” he assures me.
“Especially since she’s been serving me coffee all these months,” I almost laugh, shaking my head. “God, what if I was rude to her one day?”
“I’m sure you weren’t. The way she talked, it sounds like you’ve been nothing but an angel.”
“How could I have not recognized her?”
“It’s hard to see yourself in other people.”
My obliviousness still stuns me in hindsight. Chains insists she looks identical to me, and now that I’m looking at her through the window of the cafe, I can see the resemblance. Her name is Sandy, too, but I never connected that to Sandra all my life. How could I?
We’re set to meet in the shop just after she gets off, which is in a few minutes— I’m just waiting for her to take the apron off so I don’t make it awkward. That, and my nerves are all over the place, even with Chains sitting beside me and keeping me comforted.
A minute ago, I watched the homeless guy I give change to every now and then head inside to warm up for a moment. Now, I watch as Sandy bustles over to him with a large coffee in hand, ushering him to a seat by the window and offering it to him. I can’t hear them talking from here, but I can tell by his body language that he’s trying to refuse the drink, probably doesn’t have the money for it.
Sandy waves it off, and I can’t help but smile at how motherly she seems as she insists he sit down. There’s a $5 bill under the coffee mug she set in front of him. He laughs politely and thanks her as if it’s no big deal, but when Sandy has to hurry off, he smiles after her and looks genuinely touched by her kindness.
It’s almost surreal.
“It’s about that time,” Chains points out.
“I know, I just…” I hesitate. “Wait, what name did you give her for yourself?”
“What? I didn’t give her a name. What do you mean?”
“I am not introducing you as Chains.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but he sees the reason in that, and nods before glancing around us and speaking to me in a low tone.
“My name is Chris.”
I stare at him, blinking, and I feel a growing smile as he clearly looks a little embarrassed.
“C’mon, don’t stare. My name’s Chris Hanes. Your mom can be one of a handful of exceptions, but to everyone else, I’m Chains.”
“Okay, I think I’m good to go in,” I say, taking a deep breath and feeling a little more relaxed.
We stand up and cross the street, and indeed, when I step through the door that Chains opens for me, I see Sandy without her apron, just getting settled in at the corner table we agreed to meet at. Immediately, her eyes turn to me, and just as immediately…tears spring to both our eyes.
“You can do this,” Chains assures me, and something about his presence gives me the strength I need to cross the cafe and approach Sandy.
To my surprise, she stands up, looking almost hesitant, but soon, neither of us can resist embracing each other.
“Lila,” she breathes through a sob as we hug, and it takes me until that moment for it to really sink in.
I’m hugging my mom.
Tears stain her shoulder as I squeeze her. She’s a little shorter than me, which I never expected, and it’s ridiculous that that’s the thought that gets caught in my head.
“Mom,” I finally say, choking on the syllable.
We hug for a long, long time, then find it in ourselves to break apart and take seats opposite each other, staring at each other in disbelief.
“I’ll get us some coffees,” Chains offers kindly, and he steps away to give us some privacy.
I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to find words, but I can’t find any, and Sandy can’t seem to either. We end up just laughing at each other, and she takes my hands to squeeze them gently.
“Lila,” she says at last. “You have no idea what this means to me. Thank you for meeting me.”
“I can’t believe you were able to keep it together all these months,” I gushed, beaming. “You must be a way better actress than me.”
“I did a little theater in college, but I skipped class on the days they covered how to hide from your relatives, so this is just talent,” she says, holding back a big, stupid smile.
We stare at each other for a few more moments, then burst out laughing again, partly at the joke and partly at how absurd this whole beautiful mess is.
“Mom, I…” I start, “I’m sorry. Chris told me everything. About what he did to you, and how he lied to me. I…if I thought there was the slightest chance you were alive, I-”
“Honey, you behaved exactly like I would have if I were in your position,” Mom said, and I don’t know how she knew to say exactly what I was desperate to hear, but it made the tears start rolling down my cheeks in full force. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you as much as I can, and believe me when I say I’m so proud of you that I can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”
“Aw…”
“I mean it,” she says with a gentle smile. “I know what your impulse is, young lady, you’re about to try to deflect it and say it was just Ed pushing you. I felt the same thing. But it’s all you, dear. Ed is just…too good at knowing how to take credit from girls like us.”
I can’t help but laugh through my tears as I squeeze Mom’s hands firmly. If there was any question about her identity, it’s gone now. This isn’t just my mom.
This is the mother I always dreamed I could have had.
Chains comes back with a tray of coffees, and he sets two down in front of us, picking up his own.
“By the way, Mom, this is Chris,” I say, smiling up at Chains. “He…kind of made all this possible, in a big way.”
“Oh, I know,” Mom says, beaming up at him before winking at me. “You’ve got a very good ‘friend’ here, honey.”
I blush, but Chains just chuckles and nods to the door.
“I’ve got to take a call. I’ll check back in later, you two take your time,” he says, and before I have a chance to protest, he strides out the door, leaving me alone with my mom.
“Well,” I say, sniffing back tears and looking at the smart, funny, warm woman I still can’t believe is actually my own flesh and blood. “Where do we start?”
“I’ve been asking myself that question for almost as long as you’ve been alive, sweetie, and I still don’t have a good answer,” she laughs, doing the same as me.
“I guess it would be good to explain some of what got me here,” I say, taking the warm coffee in my hands and feeling it warm up my fingers. “Change doesn’t really happen unless something rocks the boat, and recently…I’ve started to realize just how deep things go with Dad. And I need to do something about i
t.”
Piece by piece, I start working back through a tailored version of how Chris and I met, then start working through the things in my life that brought me to where I am today. It’s a long, emotional conversation that barely sticks to my memory because of how fast it all seems to breeze by, but one thing is clearer than ever now.
The kind of person I am and could be is reflected in my mom. My dad always wanted me to be him— cold, calculating, and ruthless, someone who could match up to him. Now more than ever, I don’t want that, but he did give me one thing he didn’t plan to.
I have the tools to take him down, and I’m going to do it— with the people I love.
Chains
The next day, we practically have a whole team assembled at the old, burned-out house.
When Cassandra’s car rolls to a stop and she steps out, Lila, Sandy and the little dog go running toward her to greet her. I watch from the side of my bike, chuckling at Henry, who can’t seem to decide which of the girls he’s happiest to be around. The girls hug, and as they talk, I watch Jon’s car approach, turning off the main road and rolling toward us before coming to a halt.
Cassandra was easy to recruit— all Lila had to do was ask, and she was enthusiastically on board. Jon took a little more work. After meeting with Lila’s mom yesterday, we went back to Jon’s place to level with him and explain that we wanted to get proof that Ed Hawthorne had been pulling this criminal game off for a long time, and that his help searching his old house would be invaluable.
Jon had been reluctant to dig up old demons, so Lila came forward and told him who she really is: Ed’s own daughter. That got Jon’s attention. Obviously, he doesn’t blame Lila for anything that has happened. She was nowhere near old enough to have known anything about it when it was happening, much less to have had anything to do with it. But the fact that someone so close to Ed is interested in dredging up some justice made him decide that it might be worth the time to lend a hand searching the place.
“They’ve still got the police tape on this place,” Jon chuckled as he made his way down to meet me.
Stealing Her Page 15
