Amends: A Love Story (24 page)

"I knew my grandmother as a rock. She was the
only kind, stable thing in a world that had changed forever. Those
of you who've lost your parents know what I mean. The world is
suddenly full of shadows you've never seen before. It's easy to
lose your way." I find myself nodding in agreement. Amity takes
another, longer break to collect herself. After a deep, ragged
breath, she begins again.

"Gran was a bright, loving candle. She kept
me from getting lost in the darkness. I am more grateful than words
can express. But Gran wasn't just my grandmother. She was her own
person. She worked as a truck driver for more than ten years. She
loved woodworking, and it must have broken her heart to sell her
beautifully crafted home in the woods of Beaufort, Michigan, so she
could come live with me."

Now Amity is crying in earnest. This time she
makes no effort to wipe the tears streaming down her face. The dark
smudges around her eyes and mascara streaks on her cheeks are
hard-earned badges of grief. I know it's not possible, but I feel
like she's looking straight into my soul.

She whispers four final words into the
microphone: "Thank you. Remember her."

/////////////////////////

I follow a small caravan of cars to the
Lakeside Grill. I park away from the main group and wait for
everyone to go inside.

When I'm finally alone, I step out of my
insanely overpriced rental car. It's a warm day, and the full
Florida sun is already melting the asphalt. The air smells of
rubber and rotting fish. I turn around and realize I'm about twenty
feet from the dumpsters. A tall, lanky man with a profusion of
evil-looking tattoos is hauling a sack full of empty bottles to the
bin marked Recycling. The way he moves is familiar. I search my
brain, and all of a sudden I know.

Holy shit, it's Ethan,
Amity's stalker
. There is no way I'm going
to let him make things worse for Amity on today of all days. Hell,
I'm not even sure I should be here. But I know for certain that he
needs to be stopped. As I run towards him, I wonder if Amity ever
got that restraining order.

He sees me coming just as he's throwing the
bag into the dumpster. He tries to sprint back to the restaurant,
but he can barely run in his skin-tight black jeans. He trips and
sprawls across the pavement, and I'm on him in less than a
breath.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asks, incredulous.
His eyes widen and then narrow again as recognition dawns. "Jesus
Christ! You're that freak who attacked me at Adams College."

"I told you to stay away from Amity. I guess
you have trouble hearing."

I raise my fist, and he shrieks. "You've got
it all wrong! I just work here! I'm the bartender."

I lower my fist, confused. "Does Amity know
that?"

"Yeah, she does. She came here anyway,
because this is where she went after her parents' funerals. She
wasn't going to let lil' old me get in the way." His voice is sour
with regret.

I scowl at him. "Are you going to do anything
to make her uncomfortable?"

"Oh God no. I'm not even going to breathe my
fetid breath in her precious direction."

Ah, sarcasm. I raise my fist again, and he
flinches. "I'm fucking serious," he yelps. "I'm leaving her alone.
Totally. I'm in goddamned therapy, trying to work things out with
my fiancée, who has miraculously forgiven me for...well, for a
whole lotta shit."

His handsome, sculptured face is twisted into
a sneer, but it's an honest sneer. I believe him.

"Fine. You're a good boy now. On a leash. But
if you even look at Amity funny, I'll crush you. You've got
it?"

He rolls his eyes. "Threat registered and
understood."

Feeling unpleasantly thuggish, I release
Ethan and stand up. He brushes himself off and inspects his hand.
It's obviously bleeding. "Asshole," he mutters as he stalks back to
the restaurant. I watch him duck into the service entrance.

I'm hot under my formal jacket, and asphalt
crumbs are clinging to my pants. I shake them off and see that
there's a tear over the right knee. Without my dad's money, it's
going to be a while before I'll be buying anything new. This idea
of scarcity—that things I need will no longer be freely
available—is still unreal to me. I wonder how everyone else deals
with it.

I question again if I should enter the
restaurant. I want to see Amity and talk to her and hold her in my
arms. But here, in this foul-smelling parking lot, it's starting to
feel like I've become a stalker, just like Ethan. Maybe, I think, I
should fly back to Adams and give Amity some space.

I'm about to go back to my car when I smell
cigarette smoke. I twist my head, and what I see is like a bright
star on a moonless night. It's Amity, exhaling a puff of smoke and
wearing a question mark on her face.

Chapter 29: Amity

I've been trying to be Gran's smart, plucky
granddaughter all day. Now I'm Gran's sad, exhausted granddaughter,
who very badly needs a smoke break. I ask Maggie to keep an eye on
the guests while I sneak out. As I make my way down the rear stairs
to the service entrance—the only place where it's even marginally
acceptable to light up—Ethan flies by me without a word, nearly
knocking me over.

Goddamn
him
. I wanted to come here because it's
where I brought everyone after both Mom and Dad's funerals, and I
wasn't going to let him scare me away. Maggie called him yesterday
and suggested in the strongest possible terms that he leave me
alone. Well, whatever she said must have made an impression,
because Ethan hides in the back whenever I get close to the bar. I
can't believe I ever followed that guy around like a lost
puppy.

When I reach the exit doors, I push them open
and blink into the bright sun like a mole. The restaurant is kept
in semidarkness—probably to keep the patrons from seeing the
stained floor and scuffed tables—so it takes my eyes a few moments
to adjust. I squint while I fire up my cigarette.

When I look up, I see a
tall, familiar male figure bathed in light. I curse the blazing
Florida sun and shield my eyes with my hand. As he comes into
focus, I realize it's really him.
Laird.
Somehow, some way, he's here in
Triple Marsh, watching me smoke in the parking lot of the Lakeside
Grill. A surge of pure, terrified joy pulses through me. My first
wild thought is,
Oh my God, he's caught me
smoking. He doesn't know that I smoke!

I throw my cigarette to the ground and
approach him slowly. I want to run, but I have no idea if he's
seeing the girl who held him in the cemetery as we sobbed over our
dead mothers, or the girl who fucked his father. He doesn't move
towards me, but he doesn't back away, either. As I get nearer, I
see a tear creeping down his cheek. His mouth twitches into a half
smile.

I keep coming closer and closer until I can
hear the soft sounds of his breath. We both speak at once, each of
us an echo of the other.

"I'm sorry," we say in unison, and that's all
it takes. We fall on each other in a fury of need. His lips are
rough against mine, and his tongue is hot, liquid nectar. I nibble
on his lower lip, first gently and then harder. I weave my fingers
into his hair and press myself against him. I want to be bruised by
him and marked by him. I crave a physical sign of our
connection.

I'm breathless when he gently pushes me
away.

"We should probably save this for later." He
glances at the restaurant. "You should go back inside."

Of course, he's right. My grandmother's
friends and my friends are inside, and I should be with them. He
offers his arm, and I take it.

/////////////////////////

When we walk into the restaurant, we are
greeted with cheers and raucous catcalls. Laird wraps a protective
arm around me, and I blush until I'm a bright, glowing pink. I hide
my face behind his jacket. When I finally peer out, I see Maggie
right next me, grinning broadly.

"I was standing by the window, drinking my
cranberry juice and minding my own business, when I saw you two
putting on quite a show." She raises her eyebrows to indicate it
was a very impressive show indeed. "I guess you two got everything
sorted out, then?"

I nod shyly.

"Good!" Her voice is still cheerful, but some
of the glee has leaked out of her smile. She holds up a long strip
of pale yellow paper as if it's a poisonous snake. "I guess we
should see about the bill." She's about to pass it to me for closer
inspection when Laird whisks it out of her hand.

"I'll take that!" He walks with purpose
towards the cashier.

I move to run after him, but Maggie places a
hand on my arm. "Let him go," she whispers. "Boys are funny that
way. Anyway, didn't you say his father is Josiah Conroy, the famous
billionaire?"

I shush Maggie before everyone can hear her.
Then we sit down at a table and sip water, waiting for Laird to
return like a conquering hero. Esther and Aliyah settle in beside
us. Here in Triple Marsh, they seem like exotic, migratory birds
who got lost on the way to somewhere much more fabulous. Esther is
wearing a vintage black satin dress with a matching pillbox hat.
Aliyah is cool and elegant in a flowing black gown that barely
skims the floor.

"What was that?" asks Esther, obviously
referencing what happened between Laird and me in the parking
lot.

"Do tell," adds Aliyah. "My life is so boring
right now that I need to live vicariously through others."

I want to answer them, but I can't. Not
really. "I have no idea what's going on," I confess. "I guess
we're, you know, back to whatever we were before all the drama. We
haven't really talked about it."

I pause and try to think through why that
doesn't bother me as much as it should. "I know I should hate him
because he was the other driver in Mom's accident. And he should
hate me because I slept with his Dad. But we have this crazy bond,
this unspoken understanding, that makes anything possible."

The girls are gazing at me with wide, open
eyes. I can't tell if they think what I'm describing is romantic or
insane. Before anyone can say another word, Laird walks back to our
table. His shoulders are hunched, and his face has an
uncharacteristically pinched, worried look.

"Amity, can I talk to you?"

He's obviously upset, and I wonder if he's
changed his mind about me. After all, we haven't even talked about
anything of substance. Maybe he thinks our kiss in the parking lot
was an aberration or some kind of short-lived truce in memory of
Gran. My legs are wobbly as I rise to follow him into the bar.

The girls watch me intently, as if I'm an
acrobat working without a net. Good luck, mouths Maggie. I swallow
twice. I think I'll need it.

/////////////////////////

When Laird and I enter the bar area, Ethan
scuttles into the back room like a scared animal. Laird maneuvers
me against the wall and takes my hands in his. The low light
hollows out his cheeks and hoods his eyes. My breath quickens with
desire and anxiety.

"I'm so sorry, Amity," he says with a pained
look on his face, "but I can't do it."

I gasp. This is exactly what I feared. He's
come to his senses and concluded that he doesn't want me in his
life. He's probably decided that there's too much bad history
between us to ever overcome. And I'm sure he's right. Staying away
from each other is the safe bet. The smart bet. The sane bet.

I squeeze his hands, and my eyes swell with
unshed tears. "I'm sorry, too. If you can't do it, then I guess I
can't do it, either."

He blanches, and his mouth falls open into a
shocked little O. "I can't believe I'm so clueless, but what do
people do in these kinds of situations? Can we wash dishes or mop
floors? I know this sounds awful, but maybe we can ask the guests
to contribute, and..."

I am totally confused. "What in the world are
you talking about?"

He smiles ruefully. "The bill. I can't pay
it. My father has cut off my credit cards. My everything, really.
He says I'm financially irresponsible and don't think things
through."

Oh. He's talking about the bill. I feel like
shouting with joy. Instead, I try to talk too fast and end up
stammering. "Oh d-d-don't worry about the bill. The girls and I
have got it c-c-covered."

He smiles with relief. "Oh, thank God. I feel
like such an asshole."

I squeeze his hands again and ask, "Whatever
gave your dad the idea you were impulsive and irresponsible with
money?"

I can tell he's trying very hard not to
chuckle when he says, "I gave away my two million dollar trust fund
to a girl I barely knew."

It takes us at least five full minutes to
control our hysterical laughter and return to the group. I feel
happier and freer than I have since...well, ever.

/////////////////////////

The sun is setting on Forever Acres. Laird
and I are holding hands in what has become, for me, a family
gathering place. Mom and Dad's graves are pleasantly overgrown with
flowering weeds. Gran's plot is still bare earth. They haven't laid
the turf yet.

Laird's profile is both strong and sorrowful
in the fading light. I know the accident has haunted him every day
since it happened. In fact, I have a good idea why he came to this
exact spot almost three years ago.

"Laird?" I ask.

He turns towards me with pensive eyes. "Yes?"
His voice is strained, as if he's working hard to keep something
large and painful at bay.

"When we met here, you lied to me. You told
me you were visiting your mother's grave. Obviously, that's not
true. The wife of billionaire Josiah Conroy wouldn't be buried at
Forever Acres in Triple Marsh, would she?"

He nods. "I'm sorry. I was scared. I should
have said something then, but I was too much of a little fucking
pussy."