Daughter of Light (28 page)

“Think I’m funny?”

“No, you’re right,” I said, looking around. “I was just thinking about something someone once said about garlic.”

“I’ve got a lot to learn about you, Lorelei Patio, but I don’t mind how long it will take if you don’t mind.”

“Let’s—”

“Take it a step at a time. I know,” he said. “For now, that means ordering a bottle of Chianti and something to eat.”

It was a great dinner, one I was sure Mrs. Fennel would disapprove of, especially when we were served homemade tiramisu. The owners treated us to a glass of limoncello. The other customers were naturally curious about us because of all the attention we were getting.

During the meal, Liam was more forthcoming about his youth, growing up without his mother, and how distant he felt from his father.

“It was almost as if he was blaming my mother’s desertion on us, or me,” he said. “Like if I hadn’t been born, she wouldn’t have had the right to leave or something.”

“That makes no sense, and you know it,” I said. “More likely the things you heard, what you saw, and how it all made you feel fed your own anger and poor self-image.”

“Me? Poor self-image? From what my father and Mrs. Wakefield say, you’d think I was a walking egotist.”

“That’s all show,” I said.

The way he looked at me made me wonder for a moment if he was growing angry. Was his male ego damaged? Did he think I was putting him down? Was I too truthful about what I saw?

“Do you care to explain that, please?”

I shrugged, trying to make it seem simple. “You didn’t do poorly in school and college because you’re not up to the challenges, Liam. Sometimes we feel the
need to live up to the impressions people have of us, to shove it back into their faces . . . defiance born of an inner rage that seems far beyond our control.”

“Our? What about you?”

“In my way, I wasn’t much different. I suppose we’re both trying to escape ourselves or what we think we are.”

He crinkled his eyebrows and shook his head. “You’re right in front of me,” he said. “I can reach out and touch you. I’ve kissed you, held you, but most of the time, it’s almost as if you’re not really there. You’re an image or like a virtual you.”

“It takes time,” I said, hoping I was right. “Sometimes the time it takes is too much and it’s easier to give up.”

“Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head emphatically. “Don’t even think it. I’m in for the long haul.”

He finished his limoncello as a toast, and I smiled. Liam came with his own personal baggage, I thought. Any relationship I would dream of having with any man was going to be hard enough. Was I foolish for even thinking of starting one with him? Maybe not, I thought. Maybe my spending more time on building him up would help me worry less about myself.

Francesca came over to give me a hug good night and then hugged Liam, shaking her finger at him for staying away so long. He promised he wouldn’t do it again, and we left holding hands.

“They’re delightful,” I said. “You were right. It is like eating with family. Thank you for thinking of it for me.”

We got into the car.

“Do I have to keep my promise?” he asked.

“Early night?”

He nodded.

“I’m afraid so,” I said.

“Okay, okay.”

“But there’ll be times when we won’t worry about the clock so much, I hope.”

He looked as if he would explode with happiness. “Can I pick you up in the morning?”

“It’s out of your way.”

“There is no way,” he said, punctuating each word hard, “that you will ever, ever be out of my way.”

“Okay,” I said, laughing. “But people will talk.”

“You mean Great-auntie Amelia?”

“And Mrs. McGruder.”

“I’m sure they’ve been talking about us all night,” he said.

When we arrived at the Winston House, we sat and talked a little more about his family. I saw how much he loved Julia. At times, he spoke about her as if she had been his mother, always looking after him, always more disappointed than anyone for his failures and mistakes.

“You’re lucky to have her,” I said.

“You didn’t have any brothers or sisters?”

“No,” I said. I wondered, if we did see each other steadily, whether he would begin to know when I wasn’t telling the truth. My sisters had always been confident in their ability to handle any man, twist and turn him whatever way they wanted, and get him to believe whatever they wanted. When I was very young, I had witnessed
Brianna bringing home her catch. I had even overheard some of the lies she told, and I had seen how easily the man had accepted them as the truth.

“They want to believe what we tell them,” Ava once said. “They don’t want to do anything to endanger their fantasy and their ultimate success. No one fools himself more than a man does when it comes to the woman he wants.”

The implication had been clear: I, too, would have all of this power.

But did I want it?

Liam and I kissed good night, softly, lovingly. He touched my hair and looked into my eyes as he stroked my cheek.

“Okay,” he said. “I have you memorized. I’ll fall asleep with your face on the inside of my eyelids.”

“Good night,” I whispered.

“I’ll be right here at seven forty-five.”

I stood watching him drive off. When he was gone, I turned to walk to the front door.

I was halfway there when she stepped out of the shadows.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Ava asked.

When I was a little girl, Ava could frighten me with her angry words, said so sternly that I would feel my spine shake. She could send a chill through my chest and into my heart, as if I had gulped a glass of ice water. I remember that even my lips felt numb.

It was as if I were a little girl again. I stood there frozen, unable to speak. She was wearing a black velvet hooded jacket and tight black jeans. Her face caught in the lighted door lamps had a yellowish glow, with her eyes like two burning coals. I glanced around nervously, anticipating Daddy, but there was no one but her. She had started to take a step toward me when Jim Lamb pulled up to the curb in front of the Winston House. Seeing me just outside the door, he tapped his horn and leaped out of his car.

Ava stepped back into the shadows when I turned to him.

“Hi,” he called. “Great coincidence. Come here and take a look at the good job they did on my car.”

When I looked back at Ava, I saw she was gone. She
had slipped farther into the shadows and glided through the pockets of darkness. Jim stood in front of his car, his hands on his hips, looking at the repair job and waiting for me. Still trembling, I walked toward him.

“I was at a movie with one of the guys who teaches at my school. Terrific little film. Won’t make any money, though. So?” he said, nodding toward the car. “What do you think?”

“You’d never know anything had happened to it,” I said, looking back nervously for Ava. She wasn’t there.

“Exactly. Something wrong?” he asked, noticing how I was searching the darkness.

“No. No. Everything’s fine.”

“Good. So, how was your day?”

I turned again toward the house but perused the lawn and the houses nearby, searching for Ava’s dark silhouette. I didn’t see her, and for a moment, I questioned whether I actually had seen her. Could I have imagined it, imagined the conversation? What made me question it was my belief that Ava was not one to retreat, especially from a young man like Jim Lamb. Why wouldn’t she have put me in an embarrassing position by trying to explain who she was? Why wouldn’t she have used the occasion to ruin my stay here? Why else would she have followed me?

“What? Oh. Very nice,” I said, realizing that Jim was waiting for an answer. I started for the front door again, walking gingerly, my eyes panning every possible nook and cranny in the darkness where Ava might be hovering. Jim walked alongside me.

“Did you hear that there’s a new tenant coming tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Sounds like an interesting fellow. Our dinner table could use some new conversation.”

He lunged forward to open the door for me.

“Thank you,” I said, and entered.

The house was quiet, but I couldn’t believe Mrs. Winston would have gone to sleep without first seeing what my day with her great-nephew was like. Sure enough, she stepped out of the living room with a book in her hand.

“Well, now,” she said, surprised that we were entering together. “Where did you two meet?”

“Right outside. Just a coincidence,” Jim said, a little sadly.

Mrs. Winston held her tight smile and looked at me. “Would you like something before you go to bed, Lorelei? A cup of tea, hot cocoa?”

“I don’t think so, thank you.”

She looked at Jim, who realized he was standing there awkwardly, especially since she had not asked him if he wanted something.

“Well, I’d better get to bed. Early to rise, of course. Always have to get myself fully awake before those girls hit the school. They take no prisoners,” he added, fidgeting with the buttons on his jacket. “ ’Night.”

“Good night, Jim,” Mrs. Winston said.

“ ’Night. Your car looks great,” I added.

He flashed a smile and went to the stairway.

“Before you ask,” I said to Mrs. Winston, “I had a wonderful time.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear that.”

“Your nephew has a beautiful home.”

“Mansion, you mean. That land once belonged to John Hancock. He bought it on speculation but didn’t do much with it. It had an interesting history before it became a Dolan property. One family in the mid-nineteenth century buried a child there, but the coffin was dug up and planted in the Hancock Cemetery. Now, that’s an interesting bit of ground. The Puritans didn’t always have grave markers, and cattle roamed freely over it, so there are many more people buried there than indicated. I actually took Liam there once when I was trying to build his appreciation of our history. He didn’t find anything impressive about it. I don’t think I was very successful at building his appreciation of Quincy.”

“Oh, no. Liam has a real feeling for this place. You’d be surprised.”

“I would. Sometimes it takes a virgin set of eyes to see what we’ve been looking at for decades. Maybe you’re right. While I’m happy that it was a good experience, I know you’re probably ready for bed. I won’t keep you,” she said. “Good night.”

She returned to the living room, and I hurried up the stairs. I wanted to get into my room, first to see if Ava would surprise me by somehow being there and second to look out the window to see if I could spot her on the street. The room was empty. I gazed up and down the street from every angle but saw no one. A few
cars went by, their headlights scraping away some darkness for me.

Finally, I sat on my bed. I felt stunned, confused.

Did I really see and hear Ava? Would she appear again? How long had she been there? Was that her I had seen at the dance club after all?

I prepared for bed slowly, keenly listening to every sound, every creak in the house. The footsteps I eventually heard on the stairway and in the hallway were Mrs. Winston’s, but when I got into bed, I just lay there with my eyes open, anticipating. A stronger breeze kicked up, and the branches of a close maple tree scratched the siding of the house with an almost perfectly constant rhythm. I closed my eyes. I was tired and wanted to sleep, and the best way to do so was to convince myself that I had imagined Ava. Otherwise, it made no sense. She would never cut and run. Comfortable with my theory, I drifted off, and when the first rays of sunshine penetrated the curtains, I was elated. Nothing had happened. She hadn’t appeared.

Forget it. It was your overworked imagination,
I told myself, and got up to get ready for work.

Liam was there early, but he didn’t come into the house. He sat in his car, waiting. I had a feeling he would be there already, so when I had finished breakfast and my last preparations for leaving, I stepped out of the house.

“ ’Morning,” Liam said. “You look like you had a good night’s sleep.”

“Looks deceive,” I said after getting into the car.

“I’m easily deceived, then,” he said. “But happily deceived as well.”

I asked him about the work he had to do in Boston. He talked more about the business and his father’s efforts to get him to be part of it.

“I know I was a brat,” he said. “When a father builds something as big as Dolan Plumbing Supply and has a son, he hopes he’ll have the same interest and enthusiasm and carry it on. That’s especially true here, where there are so many family businesses, houses people have lived in for generations, and proud family trees. Just ask my great-auntie Amelia.”

“I don’t have to ask. She doesn’t miss a chance to tell me,” I said, and he laughed.

“Lorelei Patio,” he said, and repeated my name like a prayer. “I don’t know where you really came from or why you are here, but some angel is looking out for me.”

“Maybe it’s a fallen angel,” I said. He shook his head.

“No way, José.”

When we reached the company, he went in to get last-minute instructions from his father. On the way out, he stopped at my desk.

“I know you have my aunt’s half-board plan or whatever she calls it, but if I get back early enough . . .”