Birthright (7 page)

He drained the bottle of iced tea and swiveled away from her, searching for something to occupy himself while she perused the budgets. Grabbing the clipboard on his desk, he jotted some notes on the different drills and games he might have the kids try tomorrow. He managed to stay reasonably absorbed in that until she cleared her throat.

He swiveled back to face her. “So you want to add a swimming component to the program?” she asked.

“It would be great if I could break the day up with a little pool time. It would cool the kids down. The school has the facility, but it’s open only in the evenings, when adults can come in to use it. It seems
like a waste to have it sitting there empty during the day, while I’ve got a bunch of kids who’d really enjoy it.”

“But you need a certified water-safety instructor for that?”

“Absolutely.”

She gestured at the budget file. “You’ve suggested it would cost at least a hundred dollars?”

“They may be teenagers, but they’re highly trained,” he explained. “It’s not like bringing in some of my team guys and asking them to help me run drills with the kids. Water-safety has a lot more responsibility.”

“I see.” She skimmed the top sheet of the budget file for a moment longer, then folded it shut. Without meeting Aaron’s gaze, she pulled a checkbook from her purse. “Whom should I make this out to?” she asked.

“Hot Shots Summer Program,” he said, amazed and pleased that he’d won her over so easily. Abraham Steele could have whipped out a checkbook and written a donation when Aaron had visited him last month, but he’d wanted to think about it awhile before deciding—and then he’d died.

Maybe Lily knew her mind better than Abraham had known his. Or else it was that Abraham had been considering donating the bank’s money, not his own, whereas Lily had no directors or investors to answer to.

She wrote out a check and handed it to him. He looked at it, then looked again.
Ten thousand dollars.
He swallowed, looked once again and found that the number hadn’t changed.

“Um, I think you’ve put too many zeros here,” he mumbled.

“No.”

He lifted his gaze to meet hers. She was wearing that mystifyingly shy smile of hers, but there was a certainty in her eyes. “This says ten thousand dollars.”

“I know what it says.”

“Are you sure you want to give that much?”

“I want you to hire a water-safety instructor. And another teacher so you can have more children participating. And maybe you could use the rest as seed money to carry over till next year. That way you’d have something to build on.”

He opened his mouth and shut it. He hadn’t expected this. When he’d left Lily’s house yesterday, he figured he’d blown any chance of getting a contribution from her. He’d told her her painting was too safe, hadn’t he? And now she thought he was a brilliant art critic? Was that why she was handing him ten thousand dollars?

“Does this summer program have a board? Because if it does, I want to be on it,” she said.

“It didn’t have a board,” he told her, “but for ten thousand dollars, if you want a board we’ll have a board.
You
can be the board, all by yourself.”

“Well, it’s just…I don’t want the money squandered.”

“You don’t trust me, huh?” He grinned to take the sting out of the words.

Her smile was much more reserved. “I hardly know you, Aaron, and what I know…” Her words
drifted off as if she was unwilling to say something rude.

“I’m no longer the punk I was in high school,” he reminded her.

“There was a rumor in high school that you were arrested.” She stared past him at the screen saver on his computer monitor, apparently unable to look at him when she dredged up his sordid past.

“It wasn’t a rumor. I had a police record.”

His candor drew her gaze back to his face. She appeared startled and dismayed, and he braced himself for the possibility that she was going to ask for her check back.

“Vagrancy,” he told her. “Underage drinking. Possession of a controlled substance. Chronic truancy. Suspicion of shoplifting. More vagrancy.”

“A controlled substance?” Her eyebrows pinched together in a frown.

“Pot.”

She nodded gravely.

“Frank Garvey gave me some warnings and I ignored them. He arrested me a couple of times, and the judge gave me continuances and yelled at me to shape up. Finally Garvey locked me behind bars for a night. He thought it would be a good idea to scare the sh—the stuffing out of me,” Aaron said, editing himself so as not to offend her even more.

“That was for possession of pot?”

“Public intoxication. Beer. I was fifteen.”

“Where in the world did you get beer?”

Her naiveté amused him. At fifteen, she probably hadn’t had any idea of how to get beer. For him, it had been a no-brainer. “The refrigerator,” he said.

“You just took beer from the refrigerator? Didn’t your mother say anything?”

“No.” He let out a sigh. He used to drink beer at night while his mother was out partying. Sometimes he went out, too. His mother hadn’t noticed him missing; she certainly hadn’t noticed the missing beer. Unlike Lily, he hadn’t been blessed with parents who actually cared enough to keep tabs on him.

“I’m sorry,” Lily said abruptly. “You must think I’m terribly nosy, but—”

“But you just handed me a big check. If you’re having second thoughts—”

“No. Not at all. I think you’re running a worthwhile program, Aaron.” She tucked her checkbook back into her purse. “But I do like the idea of being on some sort of board that can monitor how the money is being spent.”

“Fine. Set up a board, whatever you want.” As long as she didn’t think she’d bought the right to tell him how to organize his drills and games, he didn’t care what she and her one-woman board did.

She snapped her purse shut and stood. Aaron sprang to his feet, too. “I’ll be in touch, then,” she said, extending her hand.

He shook it and smiled, but his mind was revving. She’d be in touch? About what? Board meetings? God help him if she turned his simple program into something formal, like the garden club or a church auxiliary, with meetings where members would expect him to stand at the front of the room and justify his every decision. He could scarcely stand all the bureaucracy involved in his counseling work at the school, but at least in that case, the mental health of
Riverbend’s students was at stake. This was just a summer recreational program.

Besides, if there were regular board meetings, he’d have to see Lily all the time. He could handle that if he had to, but he’d prefer
not
to have to. She was too tantalizing. Too troubling. Just glimpsing her seemed to reduce him to the hormone-driven adolescent he’d been the last time their paths had crossed.

Ten thousand bucks could buy an awful lot, he admitted grimly. It could buy a board, the opportunity to monitor his expenditures…the ability to throw his equilibrium out of whack.

But ten thousand bucks could also buy a water-safety instructor and an assistant coach for the kids. “Thanks,” he remembered to say. “The money will be put to good use.”

“I hope so.” She turned and left his office. He should have walked her through the gym and out, but he was feeling a little shell-shocked.

Ten thousand dollars—more than he’d ever dreamed—was his to spend on the program. Not only could he hire assistants and work some pool time into the schedule, but he could even pay himself a small stipend, if there was anything left.

Yet he couldn’t squelch the niggling fear that this was going to turn out to be the most costly gift he’d ever received.

W
HAT WAS SHE
, crazy?

Yes. She was crazy. Certifiable. Ready for immediate installment in the nearest padded cell.

She slumped in the leather bucket seat of her car, which had baked to a scorching temperature in the
midafternoon sun, and shook her head at the two most insane things she had ever done in her life: donating ten thousand dollars to Aaron’s summer program and insisting on having some sort of input into how the money was spent.

The money she wouldn’t miss. But the input…Did she actually want to see Aaron on a regular basis? Even on an
ir
regular basis? The man still scared her, not because she was an innocent young girl, ignorant of what all his sexual energy implied, but because she was an experienced woman who knew exactly what all his sexual energy implied.

She’d been aware of his sexual energy even as a teenager, when she’d never dared to speak to him as they passed each other in the school’s corridors. She and her friends used to whisper about him. “Did you see him play last night? He always looks kind of wild when he’s running down the boards—like he’s being chased.” Or “I heard he got arrested. He spent the night in jail. Can you believe it?” Or “Have you ever noticed his eyes? They’re bedroom eyes. If you look directly into them, he’ll
own
you.”

Aaron had never seemed to own any girl in school, but Lily had assumed that was because he knew things none of the schoolgirls knew. She’d figured he wouldn’t waste time with girls. He’d be with women.

She was a woman now, but she still felt lost whenever she looked into his eyes. They took more than they gave. They hinted at deep turbulent emotion but didn’t reveal what that emotion might be.

They were impossibly sexy.

Damn. She had to be the world’s biggest fool, giv
ing money to a man like him. Why had she decided to write that check? If not because of his dazzling eyes, then because he’d criticized her painting?

No, not because he’d criticized it. Because he’d spoken the truth. Because unlike everyone else, he hadn’t treated her with kid gloves, afraid to ruffle the poor widow’s feathers. He’d offered his opinion and she’d recognized its honesty. Her painting was too safe.
She
was too safe.

The truth was, she’d given Aaron so much money because it wasn’t safe, because she didn’t want to be safe. She’d learned safety wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, and she was eager to try something new.

Definitely, she ought to be locked in a padded cell and heavily medicated until she came to her senses. She was nuts, nuts, nuts.

Yet as she backed out of her parking space and steered slowly past the football field and around to the front of the school, she was grinning. Her life was about to get very interesting, and for the first time in months, she was looking forward to turning the page and finding out what was going to happen next.

S
EVERAL CARS
were already parked along the grass’s edge in front of Grace and Ed Pennington’s house when Lily arrived. She’d spent days debating whether to attend the informal barbecue they’d invited her to, and she’d spent hours that afternoon debating what to wear. Her wardrobe seemed divided into painting clothes and everything else, everything else being all those overpriced Boston ensembles she wasn’t sure she’d feel comfortable wearing to a party with her hometown friends.

She’d finally settled on a long sleeveless shift of unbleached white cotton, with a matching crocheted sweater for the chill that would inevitably arrive after the sun set. Once she was dressed, her hair brushed and pulled back into a tortoiseshell clasp and her lips shiny with a tinted gloss, she’d engaged in yet another debate about whether she was ready to be social.

Yes, she was ready. She was ready to step out, to start living her life again, to stop alternately feeling sorry for herself and hating herself. She was ready to play it just a little less safe.

Not that she would be anything but safe at the Penningtons’ house. These were her friends, after all, River Rats and other people she’d known forever.
They liked her. They cared about her. They would never judge her harshly—at least not as long as they didn’t know all her secrets.

Sighing and wishing she felt courageous—and wishing she didn’t need courage simply to walk around to Ed and Grace’s backyard and join the party—she climbed out of her car.

Voices and laughter drifted through the evening air as she strolled around the side of the house. The grass tickled her bare toes through the straps of her sandals, and its scent filled her nostrils. When she turned the corner she saw a dozen people gathered on the broad deck, chatting and laughing, holding cans of beer or plastic stemware glasses filled with something frothy and orange, a pitcher of which sat on a table covered with a bright plaid cloth. The table also held platters of fresh vegetables and dip and bowls of chips—typical pre-barbecue fare.

Lily scanned the crowd, quickly identifying everyone. Mitch Sterling was there, clad in khaki pants and a short-sleeved shirt. Erin Wilson, in shorts and a striped maternity blouse, was engrossed in a conversation with Susie Rousseau; they’d both been in a bunch of high-school classes with Lily. She spotted Charlie Callahan digging a beer out of a cooler and smiled. Charlie’s ex-wife, Beth, was Ed Pennington’s sister. Beth had been a River Rat, and she and Charlie had always been friendly—until they’d gotten married. If their marriage had been a surprise, so had their divorce.

Obviously the divorce hadn’t damaged Charlie’s friendship with his former in-laws. Or else maybe the
River Rats had such strong bonds that even divorce couldn’t sever them.

Lily wished Beth could be at this party, too, but apparently she no longer lived in town. At least Lily knew everyone else here.

And they knew her. Susie spotted her first and raced over, arms outstretched. “Lily! It’s so good to see you!”

Within seconds she was engulfed by friends, embracing her, touching her, beaming at her. She felt loved. She felt smothered. She told herself that if she survived this party, she would know she was truly ready to rejoin the world.

Everyone asked her how she was and no one gave her a chance to answer. A glass of the foamy orange drink was pressed into her hand, and she was led to one of the upholstered deck chairs. Erin pulled up a chair on one side and Grace pulled up a chair on the other. They proceeded to tell Lily all about Erin’s pregnancy.

She was delighted. She’d much rather hear what her friends were up to than discuss what she’d been up to. What could she tell them? That after spending two and a half months holed up in her house on East Oak Street, she’d finally ventured out because Aaron Mazerik, of all people, had presented her with a challenge? That she’d spent an entire hour last Monday watching children run back and forth in the high-school gym? That she’d written a big charity check, as if she was some sort of society matron? That thanks to Aaron, she was no longer sure she wanted to keep working on pale decorous watercolors?

She’d wandered into the crafts store in town that
morning and found a wide array of knitting, need-lepointing and doll-making supplies, but nothing she was looking for. Then she’d returned home and ordered some canvases and an ample assortment of acrylics through an Internet site. She had her old paintbrushes in a carton in the cellar, and she was sure they’d come back to life after a good soaking and scrubbing. The supplies she’d ordered would arrive early next week, and then she would decide if she was daring enough to abandon her watercolor paints.

She wasn’t sure whether she should thank Aaron or curse him for what he’d spawned with one simple comment about her painting. But the order was already in, and she wasn’t going to cancel it.

“I’ve got some munchies in the oven,” Grace said, shoving away from her chair once she was done lecturing Erin on the importance of eating high-quality protein. “And I’ve got to get Ed to start the grill. If people keep drinking orange blossoms and not eating anything, everyone will be passing out drunk.”

One thing Lily didn’t want to see was everyone drunk. Her beverage was a delicious blend of orange juice and other flavors and something potent—vodka, probably, since it didn’t have much of a taste. She’d stopped drinking completely during the last few years of her marriage, because alcohol had developed such dreadful associations for her by then, but since Tyler’s death she found she could enjoy an occasional glass of wine.

This orange blossom, though…She lost her thirst
for it. “Let me help you,” she offered, rising to her feet.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Grace said.

But Lily didn’t want to sit in her chair like a guest of honor on display. She felt too conspicuous, aware that even though no one was talking about her, they were all watching her, probably wondering how fragile she was, how long she would stay, whether their old friend Lily was back in spirit or only in body. She followed Grace through the sliding screen door into the kitchen, where more people were gathered, chatting and nibbling on pretzels from a massive bowl on the center island.

“What can I do to help?” she asked.

Grace looked on the verge of shaking her head, then relented and donned a pair of oven mitts. “See that empty platter over there?” She motioned with her head toward a large cut-glass dish. “In two minutes I want it filled with stuffed mushrooms.” She opened her wall oven and pulled out a cookie sheet lined with the steaming hors d’oeuvres. A woody, herbal aroma filled the kitchen. “They’re hot, so use the spatula,” she said, balancing the cookie sheet on two stove burners.

Lily had never been more grateful for something to do. Lyle Lovett’s tender voice floated into the kitchen from the speakers in the family room, and the friendly babble of voices drifted in through the screen door. Across the counter from where Lily was stationed with the mushrooms, Mitch Sterling and Erin’s husband, Joe, were analyzing the current state of basketball at Riverbend High School. “You really
think this year’s team was better than us?” Mitch asked.

“Either the kids are better or the coaching is better. What do you think?”

“It can’t be the kids. They didn’t have anyone half as good as Jacob Steele on their team this year. The only explanation for the season they had is—” Mitch’s eyes glinted with laughter “—they played weaker opponents.”

Lily wanted to point out that Aaron was an outstanding coach, but of course she had no basis for such an assertion. She’d watched him for all of an hour, and he hadn’t really been coaching. She’d intended to go back to the school to observe another session—having donated so much money to the program, she would certainly be within her rights—but she didn’t want to turn his summer basketball program into an obsession.

Or, more accurately, turn the program’s director into an obsession.

What would have happened if she’d phoned Aaron and invited him to accompany her to this party? He likely would have said no, thanks, or he’d have laughed uproariously and
then
said no, thanks. He’d never mixed with this crowd. How had he described his life in high school?
I didn’t travel in any circle.

It was true. He’d been a real loner, and Lily had marveled at his isolation. She’d always been with her friends, making group plans and organizing group outings, heading down to the river with the River Rats to sit on the riverbank and tease and flirt and argue about the meaning of life, or at least the meaning of Mr. O’Toole’s trigonometry test. An only
child, she’d seen the River Rats as her sisters and brothers. She’d felt more comfortable with them than by herself.

Ten years of marriage had taught her how to be by herself. She’d learned not to count on Tyler for companionship. Sometimes he’d been the greatest company in the world—funny, charming, attentive. But other times he’d been a surly, churlish boor. After a while, she’d been unable to trust him anymore. Being married to a man you couldn’t trust was Lily’s definition of solitude.

Standing in Grace’s kitchen, with Grace, Mitch and Joe all within hugging distance, she still felt alone. A wall separated her from her friends, invisible but real. She knew what it was made of: her guilt, her responsibility, her unrelenting consciousness of the black mark on her soul.

“There,” she said, sliding the last of the mushrooms onto the platter and forcing a smile. “Do you want me to take this outside?”

“Not yet.” Mitch reached over the counter and snatched one of the mushrooms.

“They’re hot. You’re going to burn your tongue,” Grace warned as she took the spatula and went to work on another cookie sheet from the oven, this one covered with what appeared to be tiny egg rolls.

“I’m tough. I can take it.” He popped the mushroom into his mouth and grinned. “Mmm, delicious. Will you marry me?”

“You’re just a few years too late, Mitch. Sure, Lily,” she remembered to answer. “Take those outside, okay? Thanks.”

Still wearing an artificial smile, Lily returned to
the deck with the plate. Everyone seemed so happy, so relaxed, so easy with who they were. But the wall between her and her friends, a solid, unbreakable pane of glass, enabled her to see them but not join them. She wondered if Aaron had felt like this in high school, aware of the warm friendships and social cliques he wasn’t a part of.

Lily had always assumed he’d deliberately separated himself. He hadn’t needed people like her and her friends. He could play basketball without becoming one of the school jocks. He could attend classes without becoming a true student. He’d always seemed out of place in Riverbend High, anyway. He’d seemed too old for school, somehow, not book-smart but street-smart, wise in a way that even the class valedictorian could never be. Wise enough to know he didn’t belong. Wise enough to know he never would.

“Tell me about your house,” Susie demanded, sidling up to Lily. “It’s gorgeous from the outside. How have you fixed it up?”

Lily knew her manners. She set the heavy platter on the table and told Susie what she wanted to hear. She described the living room, explained that several of the bedrooms were serving more as storage areas than actual rooms, complained that the kitchen was too big. She mentioned her favorite corner bedroom, which she’d converted into a studio because it was filled with sunlight for half the day. Susie asked her about the floors—“Hardwood throughout? Wow, that’s real quality!”—and the windows—“I just love that beveled glass, the way it turns the light into rain
bows.” Lily loved that about the leaded-glass windows, too.

But she didn’t want to be here talking about her windows. She was experiencing a soul-deep sensation of emptiness, as if she’d been cut loose and was floating, disconnected. She wished she could leave without being noticed, but knew that was impossible. She would have to endure the party a little longer.

She did. She was amiable, she was pleasant, she asked questions about her friends’ jobs and their children and silently thanked them all for being considerate enough not to ask her any questions about herself. She ate half a hamburger and several of the stuffed mushrooms, she sipped a soft drink, and by eight-thirty, with the sun low but glazing the sky in golden light, she apologetically said she had to go. She didn’t want to have to lie to her friends about the reason for her early departure; to be sure, she wasn’t exactly certain what the reason was, other than that having to remain amiable and pleasant was draining her of energy and giving her a headache.

Fortunately her friends didn’t question her early departure. “I understand,” Grace murmured, walking Lily around to the front of the house. “It’s hard for you. I understand.”

They still thought she was grieving over Tyler. Fine. Let them.

She climbed into her car, waved to Grace and drove away. Turning the corner, she braked and let out a long breath. Deceiving her friends was just one more thing she hated about herself.

She wanted to cry, but tears seemed pointless.
What had happened had happened. It couldn’t be changed. Her only option was to move forward.

Taking that concept literally, she shifted into gear and cruised down the street. If she went home, she would undoubtedly spend the rest of the evening roaming through the vast rooms of her ridiculous house and contemplating the debacle her life had become.

Instead, she kept driving, leaving the Penningtons’ neatly settled neighborhood for the edge of town, passing a modest farm, an overgrown field, a copse of trees stretching its shadow across the road as the sun hovered on the horizon. By the time she reached River Road, there was more shadow than light, but she knew this area well. She’d practically lived on the river as a child, she and her friends. This had been their favorite hangout. Long before anyone had dubbed them the River Rats, they’d claimed the river as their own.

She drove slowly along the road that paralleled the river. After about a mile she came to the unpaved turnoff she was looking for. She bounced her car onto the rutted dirt road and braked. The trees canopied her car, their leaves mottling what little light remained in the sky.