Hidden Deep (30 page)

When Mom was out of earshot, I sat down at the table across from Grandma, eager to hear her impressions. But instead of offering any, she had a question for me.

“Ryann… you never told me about Lad’s family. Who are they?”

The heart-pounding feeling was back. “Why?”

“Because… Lad looks exactly like my old fiancé.”

“
That’s
who you were supposed to marry—Ivar, Lad’s father?” I gasped.

“Now you can understand why breaking my engagement was such a scandal.”

It took me a few minutes to find the instruction manual for my tongue. “So that means… you would’ve been Queen of Altum. Wow. You really did do a big no-no. No wonder why he hates humans so much… one of them stole his bride.” It would also explain Ivar’s extreme personal prejudice against me. “Grandma, people always say I look like you did when you were younger. I think Lad’s father must have recognized who I am. The way he looked at me—no wonder you could never go back.”

She surveyed my face, nodding. “Well, you do look enough like me. And I swear, Lad looks so much like his father, when I saw him standing in my living room tonight, I thought I was looking at Ivar. Lad is the spitting image of his father the last time I saw him.”

“That was, how long ago—forty-something years? And Ivar is your age? I don’t get it. He doesn’t look…” My voice faded away in bewilderment.

“Ryann, I thought you said Lad told you about the Elves.”

“He did tell me… a lot. What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, think about when you were in Altum. How many Elves did you see who looked like me? Who looked old?”

“Only one. Everyone else was…” My hand flew up to cover my mouth. “Oh my God.”

“So Lad didn’t tell you everything then. He didn’t tell you… Elves are immortal.”

“No,” I whispered, stunned. “So, then… you are? Immortal? How does that work? How were you planning to explain that to everyone when you’re still around and still strong and healthy, like, when I have grandchildren?”

“Well, of course I’ve had to start thinking about that lately since I’m getting up there in human years. I guess I’ll do what the Dark Elves who become famous do—disappear from the public eye when the cover story is no longer believable. They can claim Botox or plastic surgery or airbrushing for a while, but eventually they have to pretend to develop a social phobia, or overdose on drugs, or die in a car crash. I’ll pretend to die of old age.”

I blinked rapidly, hardly able to believe my ears. “But… you
won’t
be dead. If you can’t go back to Altum, what will you do? Hide in the house?”

She leaned further over the table, reaching to cover my hand with hers, as if to lend me the strength to handle what I was about to hear. “I’ll have to go somewhere where no one knows me. This is the consequence of the decision I made, Ryann. That’s what I’m talking about when I ask you to think of Lad. And now that I know the whole truth of his identity, I’m even more certain you two have to end this thing.”

My fingers clenched into a tense fist under hers, but she didn’t withdraw her hand. Instead she rubbed it over mine in a soothing motion that matched her consoling tone. “Lad will be king someday when his father steps down. He has to marry, honey, and the time is near for him. I know it won’t be easy to give him up. It’s going to hurt like all get-out, but it will be so much worse if you wait.”

Now I yanked my hand away. “But you said to
trust
in love—that it could be good.”

“I know honey.” Her eyes were wet. “I’m sorry. Sometimes loving someone means letting them go. Every day you’re with Lad makes it more dangerous for
him
. If he does fall in love with you and the two of you decide to bond—which is going to get harder and harder to resist—he won’t ever be able to take an Elven bride and carry out his duties as the leader of his people. The royal lineage will stop with him. And someday he’ll lose you. You’re only partially Elven—there’s no guarantee you’ll have an extended life span. You don’t want him to end up alone like me, do you? You have to find a way to let him go now, Ryann, for
his
sake.”

“No. I can’t lose him. And I can’t lose you! There has to be a way.”

I ran outside, slamming the screen door, and collapsed into the cushions of the bench swing. I shouldn’t have yelled at Grandma. But I couldn’t help it—it was all so hopeless, and that made me furious.

For a long time I rocked and squinted up at the sky through tears, thinking about what I’d ultimately have to do and wondering how much time I had left with Lad until I had to do it.

I drove to The Skillet the next morning, still in a deep funk, hoping my puffy eyes didn’t attract too much attention from the late breakfast crowd. There was only so much concealer could do.

Dad was there already—his Harley was parked in a spot outside the front window where he could keep an eye on it. He’d been living in the city too long. He was more likely to run into Lady GaGa on the sidewalk here than to have his motorcycle stolen.

“Hey.” I slid into the booth opposite him. “Still drinking your coffee black, I see.”

“Yep. Only now I don’t drink it after noon, or it keeps me up all night.”

“Or maybe it’s the guilt,” I suggested sourly under my breath, then louder, “You should try the sausage biscuit sliders here. They’re awesome.”

My father glanced up from the menu to give me a hard look from under his brows. I could tell he was trying to decide whether to scold me for my rude remark, which he’d clearly heard. I halfway hoped he would.

We’d been seated in Emmy’s section, and she came to our table, pad in hand. “Hi Ryann. Morning, Mr. Carroll. It’s been a long time. You back in town now?” Her tone was cautious, but she offered my dad a polite smile.

“Looks like it,” Dad said. “I have to say—it’s good to be back.”

She laughed. “Well, I’m glad for
you
then, but I can’t wait to get out of here.”

“Oh—you planning a summer getaway?”

“Maybe even longer. I’m heading out to Los Angeles in a few weeks. I might stay.”

“Well, I couldn’t blame you. I’ve been there, and it is quite a place. I wish I’d travelled and followed my dreams when I was
your
age—I’d probably have figured out a few things sooner—or at least gotten it out of my system.”

They shared a grin of agreement as I silently seethed. Emmy took our breakfast orders and winked at me in a
See, I’m right
expression before hurrying off to turn them in.

When she was out of earshot, I muttered, “Since when are you and Emmy B-F-F’s?”

My father’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Something bothering you this morning, Ryann?” His tone dripped sarcasm.

“You could say that.”

I’d just spent one of the worst nights of my life, he was encouraging my best friend to make the worst
mistake
of her life, and I was annoyed that he was planning to invade the contented little world my mother had constructed for herself here. I was also sick to death of the whole financial mess we were in because of him. Add it all up, and I was ready to unload.

“You have
no
idea what bad advice you gave Emmy. And Mom is about to lose her family’s land, thanks to your funny business with the IRS. Not that it affects
you
.”

He nodded, his expression contrite. “I’m sorry about that. It’s no excuse, but I did spend all the money on your mother and you. I always felt… how can I explain it? I always felt so lucky to have your mom—like she was this amazing gift I didn’t deserve and might lose at any moment. I wanted to give her everything, and I made some stupid financial mistakes trying to provide a lifestyle beyond my means.”

“If you were so smitten with her… why did you cheat?” There it was—the question that had been eating at me. I could hardly believe I’d asked it. My heart pounded as I waited for his response.

Dad stared at me with sad eyes. It was obvious he wanted to give me some sort of answer but wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I was… hurt. And I made a terrible, immature decision. It was only the one time, and I regretted it immediately.” Taking in my incredulous expression, he sighed deeply, defeated. “And I
don’t
have the money for the IRS right now. I’m sorry. We may just have to let a few trees go.”

I huffed a humorless laugh. “We? They’re not
your
trees.”

“Would you rather see me go to jail, Ryann?”

“Don’t ask,” I snarled.

At his wounded grimace, I back-tracked a bit. “No, of course not. It’s just not fair that Mom has to face the music while you cruise around playing Easy Rider. And where have you been for the last six months? Why show up now after not bothering with one visit and hardly a phone call?” If my parents had a horrible fight, if they’d both been at fault, well okay. But he hadn’t just left
her
, he’d left me, too. “I mean, if it’s freedom you want, go for it. Grow a beard down to your knees, join Hell’s Angels and ride off into the sunset. You have my blessing.”

My father’s face was deep red by the time I finished my tirade, though he kept his voice calm and low when he replied. “Ryann.” He paused and breathed deeply, “I’ve admitted I made some mistakes.”

“Hmmph.” I folded my arms across my chest. Understatements ran rampant throughout the entire family, it seemed.

“I know I messed up—especially with you. That’s why I want to move back here and try to fix things. My meeting at Ole Miss went well yesterday. I looked at some apartments in Oxford. And for the record—I have called—you don’t answer the dadgum phone. I shouldn’t have stayed away so long, but I needed some distance. I needed to think. The feelings between your mom and me were pretty raw, and I couldn’t handle being around her. But I’m much better now. I’ve missed you more than I can explain. And If I come back to my job at the university, I can collect a paycheck again, help y’all financially, and be close to you… and to Maria.”

I shot him a warning look, and he responded by holding his hands in front of him in a defensive posture.

“I know. I know what you said, but sooner or later your mom and I have to find some closure between us. And yes—I’d love to earn her forgiveness and maybe even her love again someday. I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I can’t just let go without trying. There’s no getting over her. She’s special, kiddo.” He gave me a weak smile that pleaded for understanding.

Yeah, right.
“Good luck with that.” My tone contradicted my words.

“Well, thank you very much for that sincere wish. And… my luck
is
pretty good so far. I talked to her last night as a matter of fact.”

My chin lifted, my eyes narrowing. “About what?”

“About you, mostly. She’s concerned about the boy you brought home, and I have to say, I agree with her.”

Great. The first thing my parents had agreed on in the past year, and it was the death of my love life. It was too much. I jumped up from the table and threw my napkin back into the booth.

“
You
… are the last person who should be handing out relationship advice. Pardon me if I’ve lost my appetite for cheese grits.”

I rushed for the door, catching Emmy’s sympathetic look on the way out. Struggling to hold in tears, I backed the car onto Main Street, spun the wheel and aimed for home. What the hell was going on? I’d just about come to terms with the fact that everlasting love was a load of you-know-what, and now my dad was back, all sorry and sappy and love-sick.

And there was more than a slight possibility that if he showed true remorse and repentance, my mother would give him another chance.
And
it infuriated me that everyone had something to say about Lad. Mom. Dad. Grandma. And that they were all right.

They were right if you looked at the situation from a logical point of view—our relationship couldn’t work—it should never have happened. But I wasn’t feeling very logical at that particular moment. I was feeling angry, fiercely defensive of Lad, and… in love.
Oh God, no.
I didn’t love Lad, did I?

I did.
Dang it.
Not now. It was my worst nightmare and sweetest dream all mixed up into one tasty bite. So much for “icing on the cake.” I’d let Lad become the whole dadgum dessert menu.