The Things We Knew (22 page)

“But why? I asked Cecily about it this morning and she said she didn't know. That you'd told her she didn't need to go in there.”

“That's right. And neither do you.”

“Stop being ridiculous,” Liz snapped. “I'll go in if I want. And I don't need your permission. Get the key.”

“No.”

Liz stared, pinched her lips together, and used the silent tactic. She adjusted the patterned blouse she wore over white pants and took a step forward. “What did you say?”

“I said no,” Lynette half whispered, her breath catching. “You don't need to go in there.”

“Who do you think you are lately?” Liz hissed. “You can't order me around, Lynette!”

“I'm not ordering you around. I'm just saying no.” She moved at the same time as Liz, dropped the pile of clothes, and raced for the stairs, Liz screaming after her.

“Give me the key!” Liz chased her down and pulled on her arm. Her eyes blazed with a fury Lynette remembered well. “Where is it? What are you hiding in there?”

“Leave me alone!” Lynette broke free of her grasp and gulped air.

Gray and Victoria were in the living room and got to their feet. Lynette bolted for the front door. It was pushed open before she could reach it, and she ran headlong into David.

David stepped around her and put an arm on her shoulder. “Whoa, calm down. What's going on?”

“She's locked Mom's room and won't let me in there, that's what's going on!” Liz's normally pale cheeks blistered red.

Gray let out a whistle. Usually he was the first to jump in and take her side. But he just stood there, looking at her like she'd committed a mortal sin. “Did you hock all her jewelry or something?”

“Shut up, Gray.” David took off his cap and wiped his brow. Humid night air swept through the house and he kicked the front door shut. “Lynette, why is the door locked, and why won't you let Liz in?”

They surrounded her, edging closer like the incoming tide. And she couldn't catch her breath. She inhaled and recognized the wheeze at once. Panic jumped her as she struggled for air.

“Because. I . . . don't want anyone . . . in there.” She let it out in a rush and ignored the white spots dancing in front of her eyes. “It upsets Dad.” Thick cables wrapped around her chest and squeezed. This wasn't happening.

“That's ridiculous. Dad doesn't know where he is half the time.” Liz folded her arms and scowled. “Are you going to tell me you locked the art studio upstairs too? Because I can't get in there either.”

“Yes . . . don't . . . go . . .” She cleared her throat, tried to breathe through her nose, tried to calm down, but it was already too late. Her enemy had returned and made its presence known by the asthmatic wheeze that slipped from her lips.

“Lynnie?” David's face got closer, his eyes worried. “Where's your inhaler, hon?”

“Purse. Up. My . . . room.” She needed to sit, but couldn't make her legs work. David disappeared and she grabbed the nearest person, which was Gray.

“Holy crap, are you having an asthma attack? Do we need to call an ambulance?” Gray's eyes flashed concern, but the tremor in his voice confessed he was ready to bolt as soon as someone else took over.

“Lynnie, I'm sorry.” Liz stood on the other side of her. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

She tried to speak, but couldn't. The monster was sucking her dry, making it impossible to do anything but stand there and wait for the lights to go out.

“Move, Liz.” Victoria stood in front of her, a blurry image she could barely focus on. “Lynnie, listen to me, breathe. Slowly. In. Out.” She pushed her toward the couch in the living room.

“I . . . can't . . .”

“Yes, you can,” Victoria commanded, and Lynette was helpless to argue. Victoria rubbed her back with slow, soothing motions. “Deep breaths. In. Out.”

Her mother was always so good at calming her during the episodes. Memories stabbed, brought hot tears, and stamped out lucid thought. “My . . . mom. Want . . . my mom.” She wheezed in again and the coughing started. All she could do was pray she wouldn't pass out.

“It's all right, hon.” Victoria's worried expression vetoed her words. “You're going to be fine.”

Gray sat on her other side and grasped her hand. “Hang in there, okay?”

David pounded back downstairs, inhaler in hand. “It's almost empty.”

She took it from him anyway. He'd probably kill her when he found out how old it was, but hopefully there was some medicine left inside. She hadn't needed it in a long time.

After a minute, her chest tightened again and she shook her head. “Not working.”

“Get her in the car.” David was already searching for keys. “It'll be quicker than waiting for them to get here. Where are the keys?”

“No.” She shook her head, desperate to form words. “No hospital.”

“You have to, Lynnie,” Gray insisted. “You're turning blue.”

“Can't . . . afford.”

“Seriously?” Liz rolled her eyes. “You can't breathe and you're worrying about being able to pay the bill? We should have come home a long time ago.”

“Then . . . why . . . didn't you?” Lynette wheezed and wished she had breath to really speak her mind. She was in the mood for a good argument.

“Come on, let's get you into the car.” David moved her toward the door.

“I've got her.” Gray slid an arm around her waist and Lynette leaned on him, close to passing out, but something wasn't right.

“Dad—”

“Don't worry about your dad.” Victoria hovered close, peering at her through anxious eyes. “I'll stay and keep an eye on him.”

“Thanks.” David opened the front door. “Okay, let's go. Lynette, don't pass out.”

S
he passed out.

The awful smell of hospital cleaner tickled her nose and roused her from sleep. Lynette opened her eyes and got her bearings. She was on a bed, in a small cubicle, pale blue curtains drawn around her.

The emergency room.

She knew it well.

Her childhood was spent rushing here, it seemed, at least once a month. As she grew older, her asthma attacks lessened. The year her mother died they'd started again.

For a long time, she'd figured it was God punishing her. Punishing her for what, she didn't know. Or couldn't remember. The past few years she'd thought things were better. Thought she might get a free pass to forget what all this felt like.

Tears came quickly and she blinked them back, defeated.

The curtain pushed aside and David peered at her. “Hey. You okay?” He came in, reached for her hand. “You got yourself in such a state that once the Ventolin kicked in, you fell asleep.”

“What time is it?” She struggled to sit up, but her brother put his hands on her shoulders.

“Take it easy.” He fluffed up her pillows and ran a hand over her head. “You gave us quite a scare, kiddo.”

Then it all flooded back. “The dinner. Nick . . .”

“Forget that, Lynnie.” David narrowed his eyes. “Why didn't you tell me you don't have insurance?”

“Davy . . . I'm sorry.” She let out her breath and swallowed, her throat sore. She'd never live up to their expectations.

“Well, we don't need to talk about it now.” He didn't hide the worry in his eyes. “They want to admit you, just to be on the safe side. Don't panic. We'll look after Dad. You just think about yourself for a change.”

“I don't want to stay here.”

“I know. But it's just for tonight.”

There was no arguing. They moved her upstairs into a private room. Lynette had no idea who would pay for it, but was too tired to care. Lack of sleep, stress, and emotional turmoil all ganged up and launched a vicious attack. She curled up, closed her eyes, and drifted off again.

When she woke, Nick sat in a chair beside her bed.

A navy sports coat was slung over the arm of the chair, sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, a gold-and-blue striped tie sitting askew around his neck.

“Hey, you.” He gave her hand a squeeze, furrowed his brow.

“Well, at least I know you're alive.” She pushed aside relief and pulled her hand from his.

Nick's smile disappeared. “Can I explain?”

“Explain what? I waited hours for you. You didn't call and you didn't answer your cell. I thought something must have happened.” She spoke slowly, careful not to get her pressure up again, but her throat clogged anyway. “Eventually I figured you blew me off.” She couldn't get the vision of him and Miranda Vanguard out of her head.

“Lynnie. I didn't blow you off. I'm so sorry.” He reached for her hand again. “My dad got sick. He was almost passed out when I found him, right before I was about to leave. I had to get
him to the hospital, and I had no time to call. When I finally got the chance, you didn't answer your cell. I guess you were already on your way here. I hated doing that to you. I swear. I'm really sorry.”

All thoughts of Mindy left her at once. “Is your dad okay?”

Nick nodded. “He's okay. He's up on the third floor. They said it's a virus, so they want to keep him overnight until his fever goes down.”

“I'm sorry.” Lynette sighed, feeling horrible she'd ever doubted him. “I should have known there was an explanation. I just thought . . . It's stupid, but I was thinking about homecoming. Remember that night? I guess I figured I got stood up again.”

He sat back and studied her, solemn. “Sheesh. I remember that. Your homecoming dance. It was so long ago, but . . .” Nick's dimple came out. “When I saw you that night, curled up, asleep in the chair, your face still a little red, I wished I'd gone with Ryan and Gray. I wanted to be the one to punch that guy's lights out.”

Lynette turned her head so he wouldn't see her tears. “You were never the Rambo type.”

“No. I guess not.”

She pushed herself up and folded her arms across the blankets. “What's going on with us, Nick?” The hospital was quiet, except for the occasional squeak of rubber soles on linoleum when a nurse walked past her room. “What do you really want?”

He sat forward, moved a strand of hair off her face. “I thought you knew.”

Lynette tried to clear the fog in her brain, tried to make sense of her thoughts. “I can't stop thinking about Mindy. And wondering if there's not more to it.”

Quiet laughter snuck out of him as he shook his head. He reached for her hand again and warmed it between his. “All right. We'll talk about Mindy.” Her name slid from his lips like it
belonged there. But the discontent in his eyes said it didn't. Not anymore.

“We dated on and off for a few years. At one time, yeah, there was something. But it was superficial. And a long time ago. The past year she . . . well, she's been seeing someone her parents don't approve of. I'm her cover.”

“You're what?”

His face darkened and he slid his tie a little farther down. “When she came up with the idea, I wasn't seeing anyone. I didn't see the harm; we ran in the same circles anyway. But her parents started getting antsy, thinking our pretend relationship is headed for the altar, and—”

“Nick, this is crazy!”
Crazy
wasn't a strong enough word. “You can't keep lying to these people; what are you thinking?”

“I've already told her she needs to come clean with them. And I've told her there's someone else I'd much rather be spending my time with.”

New hope chased away her fears. “You know, there's something else I've been thinking about. Do you remember that Christmas you were home from college, the year I turned nineteen?” She watched his face for any sign of recognition.

“You mean the year Gray and I fought?”

“Yes. We went out, the three of us. He was determined to show me a good time on my birthday, if you recall Gray's definition of a good time.”

A knowing grin hijacked his serious expression. “You probably haven't had a drink since.”

“That was the last time I let Gray talk me into going anywhere with him.” Lynette groaned at the memory.

They'd gone to a party at a friend's, had all consumed far too much; she was too young to be drinking anyway. Gray passed out somewhere, and she and Nick walked the beach to clear her head before he took her home. They talked for a long time. She told him
things she'd never shared with anyone. Things that bothered her, things that made her happy, things she dreamed about.

But she couldn't tell him about the things that terrified her.

Still, a connection ran between them; sometimes it was like he had access to her diary. And then that night he'd done the unexpected.

Pulled her into his arms, stared at her a long time, and then, finally, he'd kissed her.

A gentle kiss. Her first. And one she'd never forgotten.

After he'd taken her home, she'd held tight to romantic hopes.

But a few days later he was gone.

“I remember—never mind. It was a long time ago.” He probably didn't even remember it.

Nick got a little closer, his eyes glowing in the dim light. “It still seems like yesterday. I hadn't seen you for a while, and I just about fell out of my chair when you walked in the room. You weren't Gray's kid sister anymore. You were beautiful.” He smoothed her unbrushed hair, ran a finger down the side of her face. The shiver his touch incited made her think she was going to need another round of antihistamine.

“I remember the way the moon lit your face when we walked along the beach. I remember all the stuff we talked about, how natural it felt. You told me you couldn't wait to get to college and become a teacher. You were so excited when you talked about the places you and Ryan were going to go, the kids you were going to see. You wanted to go on his next mission trip with him, remember? I envied you.”

“Why?” Tears spilled onto her cheeks.

“Because you had goals. A dream. You knew what you wanted. Where you wanted to go. You had something you believed in.”

“But it didn't happen, Nick. What good are dreams that don't come true?”

“They keep hope alive.” His thumb made slow circles on the
top of her hand. “I wondered whether you'd remember anything the next day. I wanted to talk to you again, to tell you . . . things. But then Gray and I—well, you know the rest.”

“Five years is a long time to hold a grudge, whatever it was you fought about. I hope you both realize that.”

Nick nodded. “We're good now.”

“I'm glad.” A yawn crept up before she could stop it. As much as she wanted him to stay, sleep was descending. “I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I got in this bed.”

“You've been running on empty for a while. You should rest. Are they letting you out tomorrow?”

“I hope so.” Sort of. A night of peace and quiet without worrying about Dad was a welcome change.

“Good.” Nick stood, leaned over her, and pulled the blankets snug around her shoulders. He stared for a long moment, his silence scaring her a little. “Want to know what I remember most about that night, Lynnie?” His nose almost touched hers, a small smile inching up the corners of his mouth.

“What?” She hardly dared breathe, because she knew he didn't have the slightest intention of answering her question with words. And when he pressed his lips to hers, ever so slightly, before applying gentle pressure that demanded a response, she knew her prayer had been heard.

He hadn't forgotten.

Nick straightened, giving a wink that made her want to hide under the blankets. “Is that what you remember too?”

“That sort of rings a bell.” Lynette watched the light play in his eyes, afraid to believe it.

“Would you believe me if I told you I spent the last five years dreaming of doing that again?”

“Nope.” She grinned and folded her arms across her chest. “But it was an admirable attempt at flattery.”

“It's true.” Somehow he managed to look dejected and
completely self-assured at the same time. “And that kiss in the park the other night? Exceeded those dreams big time.”

“Nick.” Lynette laughed and gave his hand a squeeze. “I kind of liked it too, if you must know.”

He grew serious again. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you the whole story about me and Mindy. It was just so stupid. I should have ended it ages ago.”

“Yes, you should have. And it definitely needs to end now, if you intend to take me out for dinner again. Or kiss me again.”

“I know. And I do intend to take you out for dinner again. And kiss you again. Quite thoroughly. Just as soon as you're feeling up to it.”

She flushed under his gaze. “You better get out of here before they kick you out.”

“All right. I'm going.” He studied her for a long, exquisite moment she didn't want to end. “I'll be here tomorrow.”

“Okay, Nick.” She let out a happy sigh and snuggled under the blankets again. “See you tomorrow.”

After he left, just before she drifted off again, Lynette had the alarming thought that for the first time in a long time, she felt happy.

And she didn't quite know what to do with that.