The Things We Knew (17 page)

“It's complicated.” He reached for her hand, but she took a step back. “I'm not involved with Mindy Vanguard. Not in that way.”

She rolled her eyes with an I've-heard-it-all-before expression. She wasn't the first woman to use it on him, but it made him doubt she'd put much stock in anything he'd come here to say. “Whatever, Nick. I've got enough to worry about right now.”

“I know.” He blinked and wished for words to prove he wasn't a complete moron. “And I know I sound like an idiot, but—”

“Let's just forget it.” She glanced at her watch, then back at him. “I don't want to be rude, but I really have to go. Joanne needs to lock up.” She was definitely annoyed, and he couldn't blame her.

Dark shadows under her eyes and the listless way she moved across the room gave him cause for concern. Nick wasn't ready to let her out of his sight yet. “How about I buy you and the midget some pizza?”

“The midget's name is Tyler.” Her sigh said she still wasn't sure. “Okay. He doesn't have a dad around, so he'll latch onto you like a leech. But if you're up for it . . .”

Nick held out a hand. “Let's do it.”

After dinner, they went to the park and sat on a bench while Tyler played.

“Thanks, Nick. This was nice.” Lynette seemed more relaxed, so he took a chance and reached for her hand. To his relief, she didn't pull away, and they sat quietly for a while. Finally he let out a long breath.

“My dad has cancer.” The whispered words hung on the air in a soundless echo.

“Oh, Nick.” Lynette swiveled to face him at once. “That's why you came back.”

He ran a hand across his eyes and nodded. “He . . . uh . . . came to see me last year when I was working in New York. Asked if I would consider coming back here, taking over from him. Of course he wouldn't tell me why, so I said no. A month later the company I was working for went under. I stayed in the city, hoping to find a new position, but nothing came up. And something kept tugging me back here.”

Lynette covered his hand with hers. “Sometimes God talks like that, Nick. That weird feeling you just can't shake.”

“I guess. I couldn't figure out why he wanted me back here so badly. Then I got a call from a hospital in Boston. He'd started radiation and had an adverse reaction. They almost lost him.” Nick shuddered. “That's how I found out.”

“Why wouldn't he just tell you?”

He gave a short laugh. “I have no idea what makes my father tick. He still won't talk to me about it. But he must be scared. For the first time in his life, he has to deal with something he can't control.”

“But you're here. Surely that means something to him.”

“Who knows?” Nick shrugged. He'd given up trying to figure out Anthony Cooper years ago. “I'd like to improve our relationship, I'm just not sure how. Whenever I feel like I'm up to the challenge, he opens his mouth and says something that makes me want to pin him against the wall.”

“How bad is it, the cancer?”

“Bad.” He gave a small groan. “But knowing him, he'll beat the odds and live to be a hundred, just to spite me.”

“Nick.” She sat close and held his hand tighter. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I . . . needed to.” He couldn't explain it. But he knew, outside of Cecily, she was the only person who really understood the complicated relationship he had with his father. He slid his hand from hers and gently pulled her toward him. And then he risked it all.

His lips moved over hers in a tentative question.

Lynette's answer was an almost silent groan that died in her throat as her arms came around his neck. She wove her fingers through his hair and allowed him to kiss her like he'd wanted to for weeks. Her response validated his own feelings, frightened him a little, but finally gave him the freedom to acknowledge just how much she meant to him.

“Gross.” Tyler stood a few feet away, staring in disgust.

They broke away from each other, laughing.

“Okay, okay.” Lynette smiled and got to her feet. “I'm glad you came home, Nick.”

“Me too, Lynnie.” He leaned forward for another brief kiss. “For a lot of reasons.”

L
ynette let herself in to the darkened house just after one in the morning. Saturday again. She hadn't seen Nick since their pizza dinner with Tyler last Friday. Working at The Longshoreman, combined with her day job and the extra babysitting she was doing, was proving to be exhausting. She might sleep in if David didn't have so much around the house to take his frustrations out on. Perhaps she should suggest he work on getting the gardens tidied up. Although knowing David, he'd start with a chain saw to a couple of the overgrown trees.

The dogs greeted her in the hall and she whispered her hellos to them, stopped when she spied a light on in the living room.

“Liz?” Lynette entered the room and allowed her eyes to adjust. “Hi, I'm home.”

Her sister sat on the couch, twirling a wine glass between her fingers. A half-empty bottle sat on the floor beside her. Liz jerked her head up as though she'd almost been asleep. She put the glass down and pushed hair out of her eyes. “How was babysitting?”

“Fine.” Lynette smothered a yawn. “Was Dad okay?”

“He was good. We actually played backgammon.” Liz's tearful laugh echoed through the semidarkness. “He beat me.”

“He was always the best at that game.” Lynette kicked off her shoes and sank into a chair. Liz looked relaxed in a pair of yoga pants and baggy T-shirt, her hair tied in a messy ponytail. She'd
probably die if anyone from the city saw her. “How did he seem, otherwise? Was he talkative?”

Liz pinched the bridge of her nose and sniffed. “He was, actually. It was almost like . . . old times.” She reached for a tissue from the box on the round table beside the couch and wiped her eyes.

Lynette nodded, her throat tight. Dad's moments of lucidity were growing increasingly rare, but when they came, she embraced them for all they were worth. She was glad for her sister.

“Why do you smell like you've been working in a diner?” Liz screwed up her nose and reached for the pair of glasses on the couch beside her.

“I grilled burgers for the kids.”
God, forgive me.
Never the best liar, she was glad for the dimness of the room.

“This babysitting job seems a lot for you to take on, Lynnie. Three nights a week, plus working at the day care and taking care of Dad?”

As always, Liz was right. It was too much. But Lynette bristled, indignation scratching at old wounds. “If you can't manage Dad, just say so. It's only for a few weeks.”

“I can manage Dad just fine.” Liz pushed herself up, her eyes narrowing. “You're not the only one who can look after him, you know. He's my father too.”

Lynette folded her arms, heat rushing to her cheeks. “Since when do you care?”

“Excuse me?”

“You've never bothered to hide your feelings about Dad. All you can say is what a no-good drunk he used to be, what a rotten father he was, a terrible husband, a—”

“Lynnie, stop.” Liz put up a hand and shook her head. “Where is this coming from?”

“It's true.” She drew her knees to her chest. She'd opened the vault to her feelings now. “Ever since Mom died. You made up
excuses not to come home on weekends and holidays. You hated talking to him on the phone. You—”

“He
was
a drunk, Lynnie.”

“I'm well aware, Liz. I lived with him.” Something all of them seemed to have conveniently forgotten. “You guys were all off doing your own things. I was the one who had to put up with it! So don't tell me what Dad was.”

“I'm sorry.” Liz's expression softened. “It wasn't always that way. Back before you were born . . . he was different. I was his favorite, you know. We'd go everywhere together. He used to call me his little princess. Oh, he loved the boys, too, but I was special. And then you came along, and suddenly I wasn't all that important anymore.”

“That's not true.” Lynette could give a hundred excuses. It was the alcohol talking. The late hour. But Liz's acrid tone could not be ignored.

Her sister's jealousy ran deep. Always had. It was the elephant in the room that Liz fed and Lynette did her best to sidestep, ignore, and hoped eventually would go away.

It never did.

And now it faced her head-on, ears back, threatening to plow her down.

“I don't remember things like you do, Liz. Maybe I wasn't old enough.” Moxie jumped onto her lap and she ran her fingers over the soft fur. “The first time I realized how much Dad drank was after Mom's funeral.”

“Then you were lucky.” Liz pulled her hair out of the elastic band, tied it up again, and shook her head with a look of disgust. “He drank all the time when you were little. They both did.”

“That's not true.” She was starting to sound like a broken record.

Liz sat forward, rare emotion standing in her eyes. “Do you know what a functional alcoholic is?”

“Not really.”

“It's someone who drinks more than average amounts, yet still manages to cope like they don't, holds down a job, appears fine to people who don't know any better.” Liz swiped a hand across her flushed face. “I can't remember a day when they weren't mixing something or other in the blender or sipping champagne on the porch. I didn't know that wasn't normal until I went away to school and started visiting my friends' homes. I'm not saying they were bad parents, because they weren't. They just . . . they were different. After Mom died, Dad stopped caring how much he drank.”

Memories remained out of reach. Safely packed away and hidden under a blanket of self-preservation. And, for once, Lynette willed them to stay there. “All I remember is the dancing, the laughter. We had so much fun, Liz. They were always so happy.”

Her sister tipped her head, an almost amused smile perched on her lips. “So you don't remember the time Mom tried to clock Dad in the head with a frozen leg of lamb?”

“What?”

Liz took off her glasses and wiped them with the bottom of her T-shirt. “Well, I guess you were around nine. I forget what they were fighting about—they were both so dramatic. It could have been about a load of laundry for all I know. Dad ducked and it went right through the kitchen window.”

Lynette swallowed a giggle. “I do remember the time he was supposed to go to an art show or something in New York. Mom didn't want him to go. She paid Gray and Nick to let the air out of his tires. We ran off down the beach once the yelling started.”

Liz laughed and nodded. “Do you remember the way Mom looked when she'd get all dressed up, ready for a night of entertaining? She was so beautiful. I used to wonder if I'd ever be half as pretty as she was.”

“I think you are, Liz. You're just as beautiful as she was.” Lynette smiled at the tears in her sister's eyes.

“Thanks, Lynnie.” Liz smiled back, a real smile. One Lynette hadn't seen for a long time.

She closed her eyes for a moment. “Remember that song Dad would always sing to Mom . . . What was it? . . . ‘Hey, did you happen to see . . .' ”

“ ‘The most beautiful girl in the world . . .' ” Liz cleared her throat and played with the collection of silver bangles on her wrist. She stayed quiet for a bit. Then she looked up and met Lynette's eyes. “He told me once, one of the few times I came home after she died, that he always knew she'd find somebody else.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. The dogs paced and the wind blew against the windowpanes. Something Lynette couldn't explain, fear or foreboding or something worse, took hold. “What do you think he meant by that?”

“I don't know.” Liz's genuine smile was replaced with the one she used whenever anybody got too close. The one that held up a hand and said,
That's enough, back up
. “He was pretty out of it when he said it.” She waved a hand. “Don't listen to me. It's late. I've had too much wine. I don't know what I'm talking about.”

“It is late.” Lynette didn't want to press the point. A yawn escaped her on cue. “I'm sorry, you know, if I ever did anything that made you think Dad liked me best.”

“Forget it. I shouldn't have said that.” Liz wrinkled her nose. “You really do stink. That must have been some heavy-duty barbeque you had going.”

“Yeah.” Lynette didn't have to lie this time. “You wouldn't believe it if you saw it.”

“I'm sure.” Her sister tossed a magazine in her direction. “Saved this for you.”

It was one of those gossip publications, the ones Lynette only scanned while waiting in line at the grocery store. She picked it up a little warily. “If it's about Gray . . .”

“Oh, it's not.” Liz lifted a thin eyebrow. “I thought you might
be interested in checking out your competition. Miss Vanguard, and I quote, ‘the sometimes-girlfriend of Nantucket's own version of celebrity-style hotness, Mr. Nicholas Cooper,' appears on page fifteen.”

“Oh.” Lynette scanned the article while sudden, unwanted tears filled her eyes. “But he . . . It's just . . .” It couldn't be true. What about that kiss last Friday night? Maybe Nick and Mindy really were dating. Did she know for sure Nick was telling her the truth? “This is just gossip, Liz.” It had to be.

It better be.

Liz moved closer and nudged her shoulder. “Hey. We all know you had a crush on him when you were a kid. But I suspect it's a bit more than that now, isn't it?”

Lynette stared at her sister and struggled for words. “I was beginning to believe the feeling was mutual. But I suppose I can't compete with her.” She dropped the magazine to the floor and wiped her eyes.

“Oh, sweetie.” Liz ran a finger over Lynette's wet cheek. “You have so much more going for you than that ditz. And if Nick Cooper doesn't see that, then he's not worth it.”