Bed of Lies (22 page)

He thought about all the clients he'd seen over the years, scared to death, imagining all sorts of horrible possible outcomes to their legal troubles, and him telling them to tell him the truth and trust him to help. He'd been a complete stranger. Why the hell would they trust him when they were scared to death? And here he was, having a hard time telling his own family about his problems.

He groaned and took as deep a breath as he could manage. He opened up the car door to let in some air, because he was sweating, when it wasn't more than fifty degrees out.

Sometimes lately, he'd felt like he was coming apart at the seams, like all his feelings were too much to be contained and would end up oozing out of him.

He was terrified, something that seemed a terrible weakness to have to admit to the people he loved. His earliest memories were of feeling like this. Of that man who now claimed to be Zach's father taking his fists to the woman who'd once been his mother. His mother sobbing, blood coming from her nose, eyes swollen, lips busted. He remembered. The memories had become so much more vivid since he'd seen "that man" six months ago.

Zach got out of the car, grabbed his suitcase.

That first time he'd come here, snow had covered the ground. It had been cold, and he'd been hungry. It had felt like he'd been hungry his whole life. He remembered his first good look at Sam, who'd seemed like a giant, with a gruff voice and a stern manner that had scared Zach right off the bat. Sam, who'd turned out to be nothing at all like the animal of a man whose blood ran through Zach's veins.

He and his sisters had found a home here and as much love and understanding as any child could want or need. He'd never complained about the life he'd led, had always been grateful for all the things he'd been given.

Then his old man had gotten out of jail. Zach's nice, neat little life had gone into a tailspin.

Time to deal, Zach.

He heard the front door open, looked up to find his mother there, a smile on her face. "Hi, stranger. You coming in, or are you going to stand outside all night?"

"I'm coming in," he said, thinking it was a good thing she'd caught him. He couldn't turn around and run now. She'd come after him.

"It's about time." She stopped him in the doorway and hugged him tight. He kissed her on the cheek, and for a minute, he didn't think he could let her go. He was shaking, he realized. Did she know?

"Where's Dad?" he asked, pulling away. The mask he'd worn for months wouldn't quite go back on tonight.

"Still on a job site. He should be home soon. He'll be so glad you're here." She glanced at the bag in his hand. "Can you stay a while?"

"If you'll have me."

"I guess we could put you up for a few days," she said. Then she turned serious on him. "You should know I was this far away"—she held up two fingers, a centimeter of space between them—"from getting on a plane to Memphis and dragging you back here."

"Sorry. Things got a little crazy down there."

"No, Zach. It didn't happen there."

He stopped just inside the door, slipping off his coat and hanging it up in the closet with more care than the act required, then finally faced her. "Okay. You're right."

She always was, and she'd been more than patient waiting for him to come clean on this. He still didn't know if he could do it.

"I'm starving," he lied, deciding he couldn't quite launch into it a couple of feet inside the door. He headed for the kitchen, and his mother followed. He opened up the refrigerator and studied the contents until another delaying tactic occurred to him
.
"And I was thinking you might be able to help me sort out my love life while I'm here."

His mother reached around him to grab a foil-covered pan. "Lasagna?"

"That'll work." He'd choke down a few bites somehow.

"I didn't think you had a love life," his mother said, her back to him as she reached for a microwaveable plate.

He was digging through the silverware drawer for a fork and something to scoop out the lasagna, and he didn't look up. "You didn't?"

"No."

Okay, he couldn't hide with his head in the silverware drawer forever. He turned back around and handed her a spatula. "But... Gwen..."

"No, Zach," she said emphatically, staring at him.

"We're engaged," he said. "Kind of."

His mother put a mound of lasagna on the plate and put it in the microwave. "There's no such thing as being 'kind of' engaged."

True, he supposed. When he couldn't find anything else to do, he looked down at the floor as if he'd never seen it before and said, "I thought I loved her."

"No, Zach."

"Never?" he asked, because maybe she knew better than he did.

"You two have known each other for... what? Five years? And you couldn't find time to get married? Not once in five years?"

"We were busy."

"No, you didn't care enough about each other to find the time. You never even see each other. What do you think that says about the two of you?"

He frowned, but finally looked at her. "Is this a trick question?"

"No."

"Then, I guess... I didn't really love her?"

She smiled. "There you go."

"You knew that?" he asked.

"Of course." The microwave dinged. She made no move to turn around, just kept staring at him.

"You could have told me."

"You're a smart guy. I was sure you'd figure it out sooner or later."

Zach scratched his head and wondered how he could have been so wrong. "I thought she was perfect for me."

"Maybe if you were looking for a business partner, but not a woman to spend the rest of your life with."

He was really surprised she'd seen it when he hadn't. But then, he'd just found Gwen naked in their bed, which she'd just shared with one of their friends, and he was more irritated than jealous. He supposed that said just about everything.

"We're not really engaged anymore," he said.

"Which is what? One step down from being 'kind of' engaged?"

He tried to laugh then. It came out sounding more like he was choking.

"Zach?"

"Yeah, that's where we are. I've got to go talk to her. I'm afraid I haven't handled this well. I uhh..." He stopped and took a breath. "I messed it all up."

"Well, we all do that from time to time."

He stood there, waiting for her to be surprised or disappointed or shocked. She wasn't. He was just finding more of that really nice acceptance that came so abundantly from Julie, along with understanding and kindness, as he'd always found when he was growing up. But he still felt like he was about to disappoint his family terribly, and probably scare them. He hated to do either one.

"I hurt her."

"Gwen?"

"Not just Gwen. Her and Julie. I was engaged to Gwen. There was no 'kind of' to it at that point, and I... uhh... did something I shouldn't have with Julie." There. That was part of it.

He looked down at his mother. It still took him by surprise sometimes, even now, looking down at her. It had been an endless source of amusement at first when he'd gotten taller than she was, and it had seemed like something had gone haywire with the world. He was bigger than she was, and yet he would always look up to her in every way but this one.

"What do you want me to say, Zach?" She brushed her hand over his shoulder, smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt, and then giving up on that pretense and just taking him by the shoulders and hanging on. "Do you want me to give you a hard time for that? I could, but it looks like you're doing a great job of it yourself."

He nodded. Damn, this hurt. "It's not just that."

"I know."

She knew?

Okay.

"Do I need to say the rest of it?" he asked. "Or do you know it all?"

"I think I know," she said. "But I think you still need to say it."

* * *

"I really hated seeing George Greene," Zach told his father later that night.

"I know, Zach."

With his mother that afternoon, he'd stumbled through a little more of what was going on. She hadn't pushed, had just listened and understood and hung on to him. Which had been nice. He wasn't quite so wound up once he'd talked to her, and he was thinking he had a plan.

It was great to have a plan again. He'd never in his whole life been completely without a plan for how he was going to handle something. So this had been terrifying for him.

But now he knew he would tell them what was going on a little at a time. See how they handled that much, and if that was okay, he'd tell them a little bit more. Maybe, in time, he'd get the whole thing out.

He and his father were in Sam's office, an old carriage house Sam had converted into workspace years ago. Zach had spent so many nights and summers out here, learning patience and how to be careful. He'd seen his father take things that looked hopelessly broken and put them back together. As they talked about that other man who wanted to claim the title of father, Zach wished his father could pick up one of his tools and put
him
back together again.

"I hated that man's voice. I hated the way he looked, the things he said, the things he made me remember. I hate letting him matter at all to me," Zach admitted. "I feel like I'm being disloyal to you and Mom by letting him mean anything to me, even just being someone I despise."

"Don't worry about me and Rachel. We're fine. We're just worried about you." Sam finished locking up his office and they headed through the backyard toward the house.

"And what's with that? Everybody worrying about me all of a sudden. Did everybody suddenly decide I can't take care of myself?"

"Everybody needs a little help sometimes, Zach." This from Sam, who always seemed invincible. "What happened? Other than with you and Gwen?"

Zach stopped on the back porch. "I lost my case in Memphis," he began. "There's a boy who's going to spend his life in prison—"

"Not because of you," Sam insisted.

Zach shrugged, thinking about arguing that point and deciding not to. "I kind of lost it in court and yelled at the judge, who told me to get the hell out of Tennessee and stay out."

"Not too smart, but definitely not the end of the world."

"The judge called my boss, and I kind of yelled at him when I got back into town, and now I'm not supposed to show my face in the office for two months."

"Well, you could use the time off."

"I can't say I did much better handling my last case or the one before it, Dad."

"Nobody wins all the time. You know that."

Zach finally just spit it out as he leaned against the porch railing like it was the only solid thing in the world. "And I don't know what's going on inside me. It's like I have all this stuff inside that my skin can't hold in anymore. Like a force of some kind is zipping around inside, making everything go haywire. My heart. My head. My lungs. My bones, even. And the harder I try to hold it together, the worse things get. I'm afraid my body's going to split open, and all this stuff is going to come spilling out, and I don't know what's going to happen then."

He risked a glance at his father, who, through the dim light looked worried but not shocked, which gave Zach the courage to go on. Now that he had started, it just kind of poured out.

"I'm afraid I could screw up my entire life right now... Everything I've cared about. Everything I have. I could lose it all, because of the way I'm feeling inside, like I might keep losing parts of me until there's nothing left, nothing I recognize as me, at least. And it all started with that damned man who just had to see me. That man who's supposed to be my father."

"I'm your father," Sam said, grabbing Zach by the arms and hanging on, looking him right in the eye. "Listen to me. I'm your father. And you're my son. You always will be. No matter what."

"I know that." Zach had never doubted that. "I told myself that man couldn't do or say anything that would change anything. That he didn't matter at all."

"He doesn't," Sam said. "But these feelings he's stirred up inside you? They matter, Zach. They're something you have to deal with."

Okay. That might work. He sure hadn't gotten anywhere with trying to tell himself George Green didn't matter at all.

"I just feel like shit, Dad," he said.

"I know." His father still hung on to him. "But it's going to be all right."

"You don't know that."

"Yeah, I do."

Zach stepped back. "How could you possibly know that for certain?"

"Because I've been there. I've been right where you are, and I know it can feel like the end of the world, but it's not."

Zach wasn't sure he believed that. Not that he thought his father would ever lie to him. It was just so unlike the Sam he knew. Sam who could do anything.

"What happened to make you feel like this?" he asked.

"Everything. Everything I was feeling and never wanted anyone to know. Every feeling I tried to hide or run away from."