Montana Creeds: Tyler (14 page)

L
ILY WAS IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM
,
peering at the label in her once-beautiful red dress—she went through three different languages before she got to washing instructions in English—when her dad popped his head in through the kitchen doorway.

Blushing a little, Lily stuffed the dress into the washing machine. Barefoot, her hair still damp from the shower, she wore a short cotton bathrobe, tightly cinched at the waist, and nothing else. Except maybe the golden, telling glow of a woman recovering from a night of nonstop orgasms.

“Good morning,” Hal said sunnily. “I took the liberty of making breakfast, since you overslept. We had toaster waffles with jam and canned whipped cream, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.”

In spite of all her misgivings, those concerning her father's diet and those having to do with the way she'd carried on with Tyler the night before, Lily chuckled. Shook her head. “Where is my daughter now? Having her stomach pumped?”

“She and Eleanor are in the backyard, trying to dig their way to China. They'll be pretty dirty by now, I reckon, but they're happy.”

Lily raised the washer lid, dumped in a sprinkling of powdered soap and set the dial to Delicate. Pulled the knob and spoke over the ensuing roar of water filling the machine. “A little dirt won't hurt them,” she said.

Hal arched a bushy gray eyebrow and grinned. “And here I expected an argument,” he teased. His gaze was tender as he studied her, though. “Did you have a good time last night, Lily?” he asked gently. “How was dinner?”

She couldn't tell him the truth, of course—that she and Tyler had never gotten around to eating dinner. They hadn't even had the scrambled eggs he'd promised her. “Fine,” she said, as he backed out of the doorway so she could pass him and step into the kitchen. “It was fine.”

Fine?
taunted her inner hussy.

Oh, Tyler, do me—make me come—

Lily blushed again, ducked into the spare room she'd taken over as a bedroom, and hastily dressed in khaki shorts and a pink-and-white-checked sleeveless blouse.

When she came out, her dad was just plucking a couple of waffles from the toaster. He dumped them on a plate and set them on the table.

“What?” Lily teased, too ravenous to refuse the food. “No tofu?”

“Fresh out,” Hal bantered back. He set the jam jar and canned whipped cream on the table. Got Lily some silverware. “I thought I'd stop by the clinic today,” he ventured. “See how things are going.”

Lily didn't bother to protest; she knew it wouldn't do any good and, besides, she felt too mellow to argue.

Hal joined her at the table. Sipped coffee while he
watched her demolish the toaster waffles. He glanced toward the back door once, probably to make sure Tess and Eleanor weren't about to burst on the scene, and cleared his throat. “Be careful, Lily,” he said.

So he'd guessed what had happened between her and Tyler, then. Lily was a little embarrassed, but not surprised. After all, the signs were probably all there, and the man hadn't been born yesterday. “Too late,” she answered.

Her dad reached across the table, closed his hand over hers. “Is it serious?”

“I don't know,” Lily said truthfully. She, too, glanced toward the door then, but Tess and Eleanor were still in the backyard. The sweet sound of their laughter came through the screen door. She swallowed, moved by the ordinary joy of two little girls enjoying a summer morning. “Is this the part where you remind me that Tyler is a Creed?”

Hal shook his head. “Nobody knows that better than you do,” he said.

Lily's throat tightened then, cinched closed so she couldn't speak. Tears stung her eyes.

“I'm your father, Lily,” Hal went on hoarsely, his own eyes moist. “I love you, and I want you to be happy. With or without Tyler Creed.”

I'm your father—I love you—I want you to be happy
.

Since when? Lily wondered.

“I know you don't believe it,” Hal persisted, watching her in that vaguely unsettling way again. “That I love you, I mean. But I always did and I always will.”

Lily couldn't stand it anymore, couldn't keep the hurt
inside. “Then
why?
” she whispered raggedly. “Why did you shut me out the way you did? Why didn't you call or write or let me visit?”

Hal wiped his eyes. Cleared his throat again. Looked everywhere but at Lily and then forced himself, visibly, to meet her gaze. “I didn't want you in Stillwater Springs because Tyler was here,” he said finally. “He'd hurt you so badly, fooling around with that waitress.”

“But Tyler and I had already broken up—” Lily began, then her voice faltered. She sucked in a shaky breath, stunned by the depth of the pain the mention of Tyler's long-ago lover caused her.

Hal smiled sadly. “You would have forgiven him, Lily,” he said. “He would have charmed you into giving him a second chance eventually, and you know it. I grew up with Jake Creed, remember. I saw him buzz-saw his way through three wives, and Tyler and his brothers seemed like chips off the old block back then. I couldn't bear the idea of seeing you destroyed—”

Lily didn't want to believe her father—she'd lived with the grudge for a long time and it had become comfortable in an odd sort of way—but she knew he was telling the truth. He'd been protecting her all along.

From herself, and from Tyler.

“I thought—”

“I know what you thought, sweetheart,” Hal said sadly. “But things had to be that way. I couldn't have you coming back to Stillwater Springs for any reason, and there was only one thing that would keep you safe—my letting you believe I didn't want you around anymore.”

Lily pushed her plate away, set her elbows on the
table and buried her face in her hands. “You came to my wedding,” she reminded him, reminded herself, her voice muffled by her palms and fingers.

He patted her shoulder. “I wouldn't have missed that,” he said. “I had my doubts about Burke, like I told you, but I figured you'd be safe from Tyler, with another man's wedding ring on your finger. I hoped you and I could find our way back to each other then, but the damage was done. You wanted nothing to do with me, beyond my walking you down the aisle to your bridegroom, and I can't say I blame you.”

“Why did you change your mind? About Tyler, I mean?”

“I saw how Logan and Dylan had grown up,” Hal replied. “And I ran into Tyler a few times, when he came back to Stillwater Springs to hide out in that cabin of his. He seemed like a different person. And I realized I'd been unfair, expecting him to turn out the way Jake did.”

As kids, Lily and Tyler had had their share of heart-to-heart talks, but Tyler had never been willing to discuss his father. “Was Jake Creed always—well—like he was?”

Hal sighed, remembering. “No,” he admitted. “His folks were decent, hardworking people. They raised Jake right. But the summer before we all started high school, Jake's little brother, Pete, drowned in a swimming hole, out there on the ranch. Pete was only ten or so, and he was clowning around. Swam like a fish, that boy, kept up with the rest of us just fine. He went under and got his foot caught between two old logs lying on the bottom, and by the time we missed him and dove to look for him,
it was too late. Jake and I pried him loose and hauled him to the bank, tried to revive him, but he was gone.”

Lily put a hand over her mouth, horrified.

“Jake's mother went crazy with grief, as you can imagine. Said she'd trusted Jake to look out for his little brother and he'd let him die—and a whole lot of other things she didn't mean. Jake was never quite the same after that—he grew up, joined the army, went to Viet Nam. His folks died in a car wreck right before he would have mustered out. The army discharged him early, and he came home for the funeral. Between Pete's death and the things he'd seen in combat—” Hal stopped, shook his head again. “Jake went wild. That's all I can say. It was as if he was trying to kill himself the hard way.”

Lily let all that soak in. Tyler had never said anything about his uncle's drowning, and it was unlikely that he didn't know, since Stillwater Springs was such a small place. “You were
there
when Pete died?” she finally asked, knowing she was a few beats behind. “You never told me—”

“Would you have told Tess, if you'd had an experience like that?” Hal challenged gently. “Like Jake, I thought I should have been able to save that little boy. I was the Eagle Scout. I knew CPR and all the rest. Instead, I was so busy splashing around in the water, trying to impress some girl, that I didn't even notice Pete was missing.”

“You were a child yourself,” Lily reminded him.

Hal sighed, wiped his eyes again. “I got over it—insofar as you can ever get over a thing like that. Mom and Dad saw me through the worst of it.”

Lily's grandparents, like Tyler's, had died before she was born—both had suffered heart attacks, within a month of each other—so she'd never known them. But their influence lingered—the figurines in the antique cabinet in the dining room had belonged to her grandmother, and she'd been lulled to sleep, as an infant, in her grandfather's old rocking chair.

“Did you ever wish you'd had brothers and sisters?” Lily asked her dad. It was the kind of thing she should have known about her own father, would have if she hadn't been so furious with him all these years. Looking back, she knew he wasn't entirely to blame—she'd cut him off, too.

“Yes,” Hal answered. “Did you?”

Lily considered. Nodded. “Being an only child had its advantages, though,” she added.

They both chuckled.

And Tess bounded in at just that moment, filthy from head to foot, an equally messy Eleanor directly behind her.

“We didn't find China,” Tess announced.

Hal laughed, but it was a misty sound, slightly rough. “Well, go figure,” he commented. “I thought you'd be checking out the Great Wall by now.”

“It must be down there somewhere,” Eleanor reasoned solemnly. “China, I mean.”

“Go and wash up, both of you,” Lily told the girls. “You look like street urchins.”

“What's a street urchin?” Eleanor inquired, with great interest.

“It's just a figure of speech,” Tess informed her new friend matter-of-factly. “It means our clothes are dirty and our hair is messed up and people will think we don't
have anybody to take care of us.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “My mom says things like that all the time.”

Hal raised an eyebrow.

“I do not,” Lily protested.

“Then how come I know what ‘street urchin' means?” Tess retorted sagely. “I'm only six, after all. It had to come from
somewhere
.”

“Just wash,” Lily said, resigned.

In the laundry room, the washer banged to a stop, having completed its spin cycle.

Lily left the table, fetched the dress and took it outside to hang on the clothesline. Tess had gone into the bathroom to clean up and change clothes, and Eleanor crossed the yard to the back gate.

“My aunt is taking me berry-picking today,” Eleanor said, in parting. “Can Tess go, too?”

“Not this time,” Lily said, as kindly as she could. She would need to know Eleanor's aunt and uncle a while before she'd let Tess go anywhere with them.

Eleanor took the refusal with a shrug and let herself into the adjoining yard, vanishing into the house.

Lily was still standing near the clothesline, one hand shading her eyes as she surveyed the pitiful state of her dad's flower garden, when a flashy pickup truck whipped into the dirt driveway between the two houses.

At first, the pit of her stomach clenched. The equation was: truck=Tyler, and since the vehicle's windows were tinted, she couldn't see who was driving.

She was both relieved and disappointed when Kristy got out of the rig, smiling broadly. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” Lily said back. For a moment, it seemed to Lily
that both she and Kristy were kids again, as innocent as Eleanor and Tess.

“Briana is going to teach me to bake bread today,” Kristy announced. “I thought you and Tess might want to come along, spend the day out on the ranch with us.”

“Don't you have to run the library?” Lily asked, and instantly felt stupid.

Kristy was certainly capable of managing her own schedule.

“Bonnie and I are taking the day off.” Kristy grinned, giving a nod toward the truck. “Letting the volunteers take care of things.”

Lily nodded, tilted her head to see around the open door on the driver's side and spotted a little blond girl strapped into a car seat.

Kristy's gaze drifted over Lily's shorts and blouse. “Change into jeans,” she said. “And wear boots, too, if you've got any. We could go for a horseback ride while the bread dough is rising.”