Birthright (5 page)

But Evie Mazerik—Lily had heard her name whispered, usually accompanied by an arched eyebrow or a knowing nod—hadn’t hidden her pregnancy from the town; nor had she given her baby away. She hadn’t moved to Indianapolis, where an out-of-wedlock child might have been accepted more readily. No, she’d stayed right where she was. It had been a courageous decision, Lily supposed, although Aaron had paid the price, as if it had been his fault his mother was unmarried. He’d been labeled a bastard, and he’d done what he could to live up—or down—to that label.

He didn’t seem so easy to label now. Yesterday,
when he’d come to her house, closed his hand around hers, told her about his program, critiqued her painting…he’d unsettled her. He was just a little too forthright. A little too blunt. A little too sexy.

What a peculiar thought. Lily had no interest in sex. She was still getting over Tyler. And anyway, it would be next to impossible for someone like her even to contemplate a love affair in Riverbend, the Land of No Privacy.

And besides, Aaron was
Aaron
. The bad boy. Most Likely to Do Time. Not her type at all.

“What a wonderful idea this is,” her mother said, snapping Lily back to attention. Her mother looked animated, no trace of her earlier distress in her expression.

Her hair was a breezy bob, shorter than the last time Lily had seen her. “Did you just get your hair done?” she asked, admiring the cut.

“This morning. I told her to go a little shorter. What do you think?”

“I like it.” It wasn’t just shorter. It was lighter. The dusting of silver that used to glitter through the dark-blond strands was gone, replaced by paler-blond highlights. “You lightened it?”

Her mother laughed bashfully. “You must think I’m a vain old woman,” she said.

“No. It looks great. Dad’s going to love it.”

“Do you think so?” Her mother looked hopeful.

Lily did think so. But even if her father didn’t love it, would that be such a terrible thing? Eleanor was less than a year away from her sixtieth birthday. Surely she’d earned the right to fix her hair any way she liked, not worry about pleasing her husband.

A waitress approached and handed them laminated menus. “Hi, Mrs. Bennett,” she said to Lily’s mother.

“Hi, Tina. How are you?”

“I’m good.” The waitress turned to Lily. “You must be Lily.”

Lily had no idea who the waitress was. She looked to be in her early twenties at the most, a skinny pixieish girl with curly brown hair barely contained by an array of silver barrettes. Lily knew better than to be surprised that this total stranger knew who she was, though. She forced a polite smile, said, “Hi,” and then buried her nose in the menu.

She wasn’t terribly hungry. But since lunch had been her idea, she felt obliged to order something. She asked for a tuna sandwich, and her mother requested a spinach salad with the dressing on the side.

As soon as the waitress was gone, Lily gave her mother another look. “Dressing on the side?” she asked, not bothering to conceal her surprise.

“I’m trying to cut back on my fat consumption,” her mother explained. “Cholesterol and all that.”

Lily recalled the shopping bag that now sat on the banquette next to her mother. She’d bought something at the drugstore and she’d looked worried. “You don’t have a cholesterol problem, do you?”

“No, not at all.” Her mother brushed Lily’s concerns away with a flick of her hand. “It just doesn’t hurt to eat sensibly.”

“Did Dad tell you to watch your cholesterol?”

“Well, no, but you don’t have to be a doctor to know about the importance of a healthy diet, Lily. I
don’t need him to tell me I should watch my fat intake.”

Lily detected a hint of defensiveness in her mother’s voice, a hint others weren’t likely to notice. She’d learned at one of the Al-Anon meetings she’d attended that people who lived with alcoholics usually developed a special radar about their loved ones. They sensed trouble before trouble arrived, the way some people could sense an imminent storm from the pain in their joints. They learned to read the signs, even invisible signs, so they could protect themselves when the storm clouds opened up.

A storm was brewing inside her mother. Lily felt badly about being so caught up in her misery and self-loathing that she’d neglected to notice what was going on beyond her own little world. “Mom, are you all right?” she asked, leaning forward and searching her mother’s face for an answer she suspected her mother might not be willing to share.

“Of course I’m all right,” her mother said even more defensively. “I’m fine.”

“I saw you coming out of the drugstore, and now you’re not eating salad dressing.”

Her mother chuckled—unconvincingly, Lily thought. “I’ve discovered that skipping salad dressing makes me feel better. And for heaven’s sake, I think I’m allowed to go to the drugstore without being sick.”

“What did you buy?” Lily asked, her laugh as forced as her mother’s had been. “Something wonderful? Chocolates to reward yourself for skipping the dressing?”

This time her mother’s laughter was genuine.
“Actually, I bought this cream.” She pulled an elegant porcelain jar from the bag and showed it to Lily.

“Gloria Hoff told me about this moisturizer. She said it’s really lovely.”

Erases visible lines,
the fancy gold script on the jar read.
Makes you look years younger.
“Anti-aging cream?”

“It’s a moisturizer,” her mother emphasized.

“With a sunscreen. Gloria says it makes her skin feel very soft.” She tucked the jar back in the bag.

A new hairstyle. Moisturizing cream. No salad dressing. It dawned on Lily that her mother had decided to tackle her impending sixtieth birthday aggressively.

Before she could question Eleanor further, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Twisting around, she saw Grace Pennington leaning over the back of the banquette, a huge grin on her face. “Lily!” Grace exclaimed, reaching around to give Lily a hug. “I can’t believe it! It’s so good to see you! How are you?” Without waiting for an invitation, Grace dropped onto the seat next to Lily and gave her a less contorted hug.

Lily hugged her back. Grace was a dear friend, one of the River Rats. A year older than Lily, Grace had always been an inspiration to her. Unlike Lily, she’d never cared what anyone else thought of her. She used to say Lily should be flattered that everyone had such high expectations of her, but Lily used to argue that life was a whole lot easier when no one expected anything.

Not that Grace had disappointed anyone’s expectations. She was happily married to a fellow River
Rat, Ed Pennington, and they had three children. Life had worked out sweetly for her.

“I’ve been dying to call you,” Grace went on, “but I wanted to respect your privacy. We all did. Everyone wants to see you, though. Hi, Mrs. Bennett,” she said belatedly, then gave Lily another exuberant hug. “God, your mother looks prettier every time I see her.”

“Maybe your eyesight is getting worse every time you see me,” Lily’s mother joked. “How are you, Grace?”

“I’m fine. Better than fine,” Grace told her. “The kids are visiting with my in-laws for the week. It’s like a little honeymoon for Ed and me.” Abruptly her smile faded and she glanced anxiously at Lily.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I think it’s great that you and Ed are able to get some time alone.” She and Tyler had had plenty of time alone, but it had never seemed like a honeymoon to her.

“Well, look…” Grace slid out of the booth, stood up and squeezed Lily’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch. Just tell me you won’t hate me if I give you a call, okay, Lily?”

“Sure.” Lily gave her a genuine smile.

“How could anyone ever hate that girl?” Lily’s mother murmured as Grace headed toward the front counter, where her lunch companion was waiting for her, another young woman, who looked vaguely familiar to Lily. Probably another old schoolmate.

It was strange to be back in Riverbend. So much had changed, and so little.

The waitress arrived with their lunch, and Lily tore her gaze from the front counter. She realized her at
tention had shifted from Grace and her companion to Aaron’s mother. Evie Mazerik had a face as angular as his, but her eyes were a pale hazel, not the rich blend of colors in Aaron’s eyes. Her mouth had a slightly lopsided cast to it, even when she smiled. Perhaps that was a result of the stroke she’d had.

Who’d have thought Aaron would come home to take care of her?

As if aware of Lily’s thoughts, her mother said, “Now, tell me what brought you into town today.”

Lily wasn’t ready to inform her mother that she’d been on her way to check out Aaron’s sports program. If she told her mother she was considering making a contribution to it, her mother would become suspicious—not about Lily’s wanting to give her money away but her wanting to give it to someone like Aaron, who’d had run-ins with the law as a teenager and would never win any awards for civic responsibility. Until Lily decided for sure what she was going to do, she saw no reason to discuss it.

“It was a nice day,” she fibbed. “A perfect day to drive around with the top down.”

“Obviously I’m not the only person thrilled to see you out and about.” Her mother dabbed her fork into the paper cup of salad dressing, then touched the coated tines to the spinach leaves.

Turning the spotlight on her mother would be a good way to keep the spotlight off herself. “Grace was right, Mom—you really look terrific. I don’t know why you’re wasting money on anti-wrinkle cream.”

“It’s not a waste of money. The cream is going to protect my skin, keep it healthy. When I saw how wonderful Gloria looked at her niece’s wedding, I
just had to give this stuff a try.” She launched into a lengthy description of the wedding, the reception, everyone who’d been there and what they’d been wearing. Lily ate her sandwich and listened. Her mother seemed animated and happy. Whatever had made her look so grim when Lily had first seen her on the sidewalk was gone now.

Eleanor was clearly relieved that Lily didn’t mind discussing a young bride’s joy. Lily had been a joyful young bride once, too, full of hope and high spirits. She still had fond memories of her wedding day, even if Tyler’s wealthy relatives had seemed out of place at the modest Riverbend Community Church. She hadn’t cared. She’d fought them on the venue for the wedding—they’d wanted it in Boston, but she’d insisted that it be held in her hometown—and they’d acquiesced. After she and Tyler had returned to Boston from their honeymoon, his parents had hosted a reception for them at a posh hotel, and it had been nowhere near as much fun as the wedding party she’d had here, surrounded by all her friends.

It was nearly two o’clock by the time she and her mother left the Sunnyside Café. Once Eleanor had finished dissecting Gloria’s niece’s wedding, she’d described her garden-club work, the floats that would be appearing in the July Fourth parade and the efforts of the River Valley Historical Society to repair an old bridge a few miles west of town, rather than tear the bridge down and replace it with something modern and ugly.

As far as Lily could tell, her mother was too busy to worry about looking old—or getting old. The best way to stay young, as far as Lily was concerned, was
to stay active, not to buy expensive anti-aging creams.

She and her mother parted ways outside the café. She got into her car, checked her watch and grimaced, wondering whether she would even find Aaron at the high school at two o’clock. She had no idea how late in the day his program ran.

Donning her sunglasses, she eased out of the parking space and headed down Hickory Street toward the school. Many of the shops hadn’t changed since when she’d been a little girl. The trees were taller, and the benches along the sidewalk were new and spiffy, but the pet shop was just as she’d remembered it, and the Clip-Curl-and-Dye, and Killian’s Department Store. She used to get her bangs trimmed at the Clip-Curl-and-Dye, and all her school clothes had come from Killian’s. It didn’t carry anything like the clothing sold in the high-fashion boutiques of Boston’s Newbury Street, but what would anyone do with a twelve-hundred-dollar dress in Riverbend? Lily had a few twelve-hundred-dollar dresses in her closet right now, and she couldn’t imagine an occasion in town where they’d be suitable.

She hadn’t been back to the high school since she’d graduated fifteen years ago, but it, too, hadn’t changed. The driveway was the same, the flagpole standing like a mast before the front doors, the rows of windows as straight as a grid. She steered past the football field to the back parking lot. The gym door stood open. An old Pontiac was parked in one of the spaces. Good. Aaron must be there.

She parked in the adjacent space and turned off the engine. Through the open door she heard the squeak of sneakers on polished wood, the brief shrill
of a whistle, the rhythmic thump of a basketball being dribbled. The sounds were so familiar she had to grin. Basketball was practically a living entity in Riverbend, the constant thump of balls its pulse.

She got out of her car and crossed the asphalt to the open door. In the gym, a gaggle of kids maybe eight or nine years old raced back and forth on a small court. They wore sneakers, shorts and white T-shirts with Riverbend Hot Shots in red lettering across the front. Half of the kids wore red pinnies over their shirts, but Lily could see the lettering through the red mesh.

Like a tree planted amid a garden of shrubs, Aaron towered over his charges. He, too, wore a white Hot Shots T-shirt, but his was glued to his torso by perspiration. He had on athletic shorts and high-tops, and a whistle hung on a cord around his neck. His purpose seemed to be to present an obstacle as the kids brought the ball down the court. “Pass it, pass it!” he shouted to one, who kept dribbling doggedly down the court until Aaron swiped the ball away. “Gotta pass sometimes, Jimmy. Try again.” He handed the boy the ball and positioned himself to block him again.

The kids laughed. They ran. They stumbled and shoved and screeched, “I’m open, I’m open!”

A girl took a shot and Aaron batted it away. “Gotta pass,” he reminded her. “Don’t hog the shots. If I’m in your way, pass to someone else. Try it again.”