Nobody's Angel (13 page)

Lucy let herself out into the bright morning sunlight. Her eyes watered slightly against the bounce of light off the snow and she dug in her purse for her sunglasses. She took a deep pull on the fresh morning air.

“Hey, Lucy, wait up.”

Just about forever if you wanted me to
. The thought popped into her head, surprising her as she turned and watched Richard leap and slide his way through snow and ice toward her.

 

 

“Are you listening?” Richard frowned down at her. He seemed tense, not like he’d been the last time she’d seen him. Lucy wondered if Ashley had been paying more visits than the one to her.

“I’m sorry.” Lucy tucked away the past with a light laugh. “I guess I’m not.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

“I’m off to fetch the milk.” Lucy tucked her hands into her coat. “It’s about the only thing my mother will let me do for her.”

Richard looked over her shoulder at the house. “I’ll walk with you.” He jerked his head in the direction of the house. “You know, Lynne still hasn’t called me. I have been getting some information together for her.”

“I know.” Lucy sighed softly. It didn’t surprise her at all. “I’m not sure she’s ready.” They trudged on in silence. “You may have been right,” she said. “Maybe I did push her into this.”

Richard stopped dead.

Lucy walked on a few steps before she realized that he was no longer with her. “What?”

A look of utter bemusement crossed his face. “Did Lucy Flint admit she might be wrong about something?”

“Don’t be a dick, Richard.” She laughed and turned to walk on a bit farther.

He caught up with her and matched his longer strides to hers. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.” Richard broke the silence. “Ashley came to see me the other day.”

There you have it, then.
Lucy’s chest constricted. She wondered if that had been before or after Ashley had delivered her little ultimatum.

“Oh?” She kept all expression off her face.

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging his broad shoulders. “We talked, it was good.”

“Hmm.” Lucy so did not want to be talking about Ashley, but Ashley was still Richard’s wife. “Ashley is well?” Lucy stole a glance at Richard.

He stared straight ahead like a man with something on his mind. “She’s great, better than ever.”

He didn’t look all that happy about it and Lucy stayed quiet.

“We must have sat up until three in the morning, talking and catching up,” he said.

Lucy slid a bit on the ice and Richard caught her. Even through all the layers of winter padding, she was aware of his hand on her elbow.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, and his face grew taut.

Lucy’s gut clenched; this was drifting straight into that place angels fear to tread. “Really?” She tugged her elbow out of his light clasp and quickened her pace. “Richard, I have to say, I really am not comfortable talking about this.”

“Ah.” The silence stretched out uncomfortably between them. The air loaded to capacity and Lucy had a sick feeling he was only getting started. “I don’t see how we can avoid it, Lucy.”

She almost laughed out loud at that one. “Very easily,” she replied. “I help with my dad, go back to Seattle, and we never have to talk about any of this again.” And that should have been the end of it, but this was Richard Hunter she was dealing with: persistent, determined, and stubborn to his core. He was going somewhere with this and nobody was going to get in his way.

“Come on, Lucy.” He pulled her to a stop. “I need to ask you to do something for me. It’s to do with that task you were talking about the other day.”

“What?” The nasty feeling took up residence in the pit of her stomach.

“I want you to talk to Ashley.” The impact of what he’d said took a moment to catch up with her. The breath rushed out of her lungs in a large plume of vapor.

“What did you say?” She couldn’t have heard that right.

“I want you to talk to Ashley.”

A laugh of disbelief burst out of her. “That’s so not a good idea, Richard.” She shook her head at him. “I am the last person on the planet Ashley wants to talk to, especially about you.”

His gaze stayed locked on her. He was serious and he wasn’t shifting from his position.

The bubble of incredulity expanded in her chest. “You can’t be serious about this, Richard. It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

His eyes narrowed at her in irritation and he hastily closed the distance between them. “No, it’s not,” he insisted, his eyes blazed blue flame. “One of the things she said last night got me thinking. Ashley has this theory that she and I settled when we got married. Now, she wants more out of life and she is telling me I want more too.” He gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. “She thinks I should find what I had with you. Actually, she thinks I have never felt about anyone the way I felt about you.”

“Richard, I really have nothing—”

“Fuck.” He dropped his head forward and Lucy caught the woodsy scent of his shampoo. “Of course, I don’t feel like that anymore. We were kids, it was a kids’ kind of love.”

Lucy bit down hard on her back teeth. She barely stopped the flinch in time.

“We were crazy and wild about each other, but that’s not how mature and rational people fall in love.” He was not being deliberately cruel, but it took pieces out of her bit by bit anyway. “I mean”—his tone gentled slightly—“I don’t think it’s in me to lose myself in another person like that again and, frankly, who the hell wants to? I am sure you agree?”

No,
Lucy wanted to yell. She had spent most of her adult life searching for the same kind of love. She wanted it with every part of her. She could say none of that to him, so she walked on a few steps.

“You are the best person to do this.” He followed her again. “You are the only one who can tell her there is no more ‘us.’” He caught her by the elbow. “I need you to tell her we are well and truly finished, because it is bullshit. I am not still hung up on you, Lucy. I am not.”

“You tell her.” Lucy yanked away from him. It shouldn’t hurt so much to hear spoken what she already knew.

“I have told her,” he insisted. “She uses you as the main reason she won’t come back to me.” He pursued her and there was no mistaking the anger in his voice or the sharp tension etched along his jawline. “I can’t lose my marriage, Lucy. I refuse to. I got married for better or for worse and I am going to stay that way.”

“Ashley hates me.” Her voice was strangely dead. “I’m sorry, Richard, but I can’t do it.”

“You mean you won’t do it.” He grabbed his cap from his head and bunched it into his gloved fist. “But you could make her see reason. You could do that for me.”

Words failed her and she shook her head in denial.

His hands fastened on her upper arms and Lucy looked up reflexively. His eyes raged at her, full of the frustration of a man who was watching his carefully constructed world crumble at his feet. “You could make her listen to you.”

Lucy shook her head mutely, but his grip tightened as if he could somehow force her to see his point of view. “If you told her there will never be anything between us again, then she would listen and maybe we could get back together again.” And then he went for the kill. “You owe me this much, Lucy.”

He spoke it softly enough, but it roared through her like a storm. Lucy felt everything in her still. Her heart stopped beating and her lungs caught halfway through her gasp of shock.
Breath in, breath out, Lucy—breathe in, breathe out.

“I need you to do this.”

He was drowning, she could see it, and he was reaching out to her. Using any weapon at his disposal, rightly or wrongly, fairly or unfairly, he was going to do this.

“I can’t,” she whispered, the misery rising up to choke her. She walked away quickly.

“So, this is how much you’ve changed?” he called after her. Lucy didn’t turn. She did not want him to see how deeply his words cut. “You come back here with all sorts of good stories and words. Yet I ask you to do this one thing for me and you say no.”

She wanted to turn and tell him all about Ashley’s visit, but she couldn’t do that. Richard wanted his marriage back and she was not going to cause any more conflict between them. It was not what she was here to do.

“Wow.” Mads went momentarily speechless. Lucy knew it wouldn’t last long. No matter how much she wished it to. “That is seriously fucked up, Lucy.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” She flopped back onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. The faded marks where Day-Glo stars had once littered the ceiling stared back at her.

“What was he thinking?” Mads sighed.

“He’s desperate,” Lucy replied. If she turned her head she could catch a glimpse of Richard’s bedroom window. “You know, Mads, I thought I was going to come here and look at Richard and be able to say good-bye. I expected to look at him and see the shadow of the boy I was in love with and be able to walk away, happy it was all settled and the chapter was closed.”

“You were that naïve?”

“So you anticipated this?” Lucy couldn’t keep the acid out of her tone. “Some kind of warning would have been nice.”

“Come on, Lucy.” Mads wouldn’t let her have a good wallow. “Get real and give yourself a break. You’ve been in love with this man since you were eighteen. There would be something seriously wrong with you if you got to Willow Park and all of a sudden it’s some kind of faded memory. Of course you were going to feel stuff.”

Lucy nodded her head in agreement, as if Mads were in the room with her. A shadow flitted in the dim recesses of the room across from hers. Richard was home. She turned her head away. No more looking out of windows and aching. “Mads, what if it’s not just stuff? What if it’s not some sort of nostalgia?”

“What are you saying, Lucy Locket?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying.” Lucy dragged in a deep breath. “This place screws with my head.”

“When are you coming home?” Mads asked, concern etched into her voice. “I think it’s time to get you out of there. You about done?”

“Nope.” She sighed again. “I have to try and sort out something with my mother and then I can come home.”

“How’s that going?”

“Shit. She keeps dodging the subject.”

Mads heaved another large sigh. “That is also fucked up. Are you sure she wants things to change?”

“Not you, too.” Lucy stared at the unresponsive ceiling. “Richard said the same thing.”

“Well?”

“No, I’m not sure, but how can anyone be happy living with this bastard?”

“I think you wouldn’t be happy living with that bastard.”

“Too true.” Lucy simmered down a bit. “I don’t see how she can continue to live like this and if she wants out, I have to try and help her.”

“Get it done and come back, Lucy, as soon as you can. I’m worried about you in that situation.”

Lucy was worried about herself too, so it wasn’t too hard to agree.

Lucy looked around her bedroom and sighed. Enough. It was like a graveyard to her lost youth. She constructed the cardboard packing box. Since yesterday morning, Richard was back to being aloof with her. She should have told him about Ashley’s visit, then maybe he would understand, but it felt sneaky and divisive. She needed to do something. Sorting her room felt like something she could change, an action she was able to take.

Her mother hadn’t thrown away a damn thing. She wouldn’t be entirely surprised to find some moldy, half-eaten piece of pizza lovingly tucked away in Lynne’s obsessive orderliness.
FOOD THAT LUCY LEFT
UNDER HER BED
would be the label of the box and it might fit right here between
LUCY’S DANCE SHOES
and
LUCY’S ARTS AND CRAFTS
. The museum of Lucy took up most of her old bedroom. It had long ago spilled out of the wardrobe and crept out from beneath the bed to take up floor space.

Her mom had balked at the idea of throwing anything away and it was only by promising her mother she would have the final say that Lucy finally got permission to start sorting. The house was full of piles like this and they cried out to be gotten rid of. It was all perfectly orderly, but it would be the first thing a Realtor would insist on. When they got around to actually calling one. That, however, was a battle for another day. Lucy still hadn’t managed to get Lynne to even let a Realtor through the door.

Lucy pulled one of the plastic packing crates toward her and pried off the lid. The smell of cedar rose from the clothing within.

“What have you got there?” Lynne appeared in the door with a tea tray.

Lucy consulted the neatly stenciled label on the front of the box. “
HALLOWEEN COSTUMES
,” she confirmed.

“You aren’t going to throw those away, are you?”

Lucy eyed the plate piled with date squares on the tray. Lynne’s homemade date squares were as close to heaven on earth as she could imagine. If she stayed here much longer, she was going to have to dig out clothes in a larger size.

Lucy opened the box in front of her. All the costumes were neatly packed, still in the plastic wrapping from the dry cleaner. They were in order from the most recent to her very first Halloween. A spider, if she remembered correctly. Every one painstakingly and lovingly made by Lynne.

Whatever she wanted to be, Lynne would make it happen. Crafting the most exquisite costumes for her ultimately ungrateful offspring to lead the candy charge around Willow Park. And lead it she had. With Ashley firmly to her right, Lucy had made sure she owned Halloween.

“These are beautiful, Mom.” She took out the top one, carefully opening the plastic. Glenn Close had made an awesome Cruella De Vil and Lucy had made an even better one. Not for Lucy, one of those store-bought, cheap costumes. “But I think we should let them go,” Lucy said over her shoulder. Lynne was sitting on her bed, watching the proceedings, but not wanting to take part.

“Oh no, Lucy. Those are beautiful. You said so.”

“Yes, they are,” Lucy agreed quietly. “And it’s a shame to let them grow old and faded in this box. Imagine how much joy these can give to another kid?”

“But those are yours,” Lynne protested.

“I don’t think I will be wearing this one anytime soon.” Lucy held up a pint-size rendering of a bear. “And if they are mine, then I elect to give them to some other kids who can enjoy them.”

Lynne looked mulish.

“You went to all that work, Mom. It’s wasted in this box.”

“Do what you like. They are yours.”
Rip my heart out and stamp all over it, open a main artery and laugh as I bleed.
Lynne clattered around with tea mugs and side plates.

Lucy almost caved and put the box back onto the stack. Lynne had worked so hard to please her. There were three boxes of costumes. Some years, Lucy had been unable to make up her mind and Lynne had whipped up another minor miracle. God, but she had been a little shit.

Lucy held up a perfect mermaid tail in glittery blue fabric that she’d never worn. “Hell, Mom, look at all the work in this.” The tail was encrusted with tiny jewels and beads that made it glitter and move like scales. “It must have taken you hours.”

“It did.” Lynne smiled mistily at the costume.

“And I never even wore it.” Lucy put the costume back in the box. “What a waste. You should have told me no when I changed my mind.”

“Oh, Lucy.” Lynne fluttered a hand at her. “You were never very good at hearing no.” She gave a small, indulgent laugh. “I wanted to make you happy, Lu Lu.”

Lucy forced a smile, but her chest tightened. She’d grown up hearing that phrase. All her mother ever wanted was to make the people around her happy. Inside, Lucy writhed and twisted impotently. The sensation of being stuck in cotton candy took over again. It was sweet and appeared harmless, but every instinct insisted on fight or flight.

Lynne slumped in a miserable huddle on the bed. She looked as if Lucy were tearing off pieces of her and putting them out in the hallway to be disposed of. Lucy felt like the worst kind of bitch.

“It’s just stuff, Mom,” Lucy tried to explain gently. “The important part is the memories and the time we shared.”

Lynne’s spine snapped to attention. “It is not just stuff.” Her voice shook slightly. “It’s important to me.” Lynne got to her feet and smoothed the coverlet where she had been sitting.

“I didn’t mean it that way, Mom.” Lucy kept her tone soothing. “I think it’s time to let go of baggage and move forward.”

Lynne shook her head and frowned as she looked around the bedroom, her eyes scanning every small detail. “You want to walk away from the past, because you don’t like what you see there. I don’t feel the same.”

“But it’s gone. It’s in the past.” Lucy teetered on a verbal tightrope.

“I treasure the past, every single moment.” Lynne dabbed at her eyes. “This room represents some of the happiest times of my life and now you want to throw it away like garbage.”

“I didn’t say it was garbage.” Lucy blinked at Lynne in amazement. Lynne, who would make a new costume on Lucy’s smallest whim, wanted to die on the hill of old costumes and faded memories. And the memories were not that good. Not from where Lucy was standing. “And I don’t want to walk away from the past. I want to make peace with it.”

“What does that even mean?” Lynne tossed her hand in the air in exasperation. “Things weren’t so bad for you here. You wanted something and you got it. I loved you. I gave you everything. And now you say you want to make peace with it, like it was some dreadful time, like one of those people you read about or see on television.”

“It’s not that simple.” Lucy searched for a way to explain.

Her mother stood with her shoulders hunched like a wounded thing and Lucy’s heart squeezed in her chest. It was as if they were looking at two different versions of the past and Lucy had no idea how to say what she wanted to say without causing more hurt. Again, that choking feeling grabbed the muscles in her throat.

Words failed her and she watched as Lynne straightened the scatter pillows on top of her bed. Heart-shaped pillows, beautifully sewn for her by Lynne. It was a perfect pink, white, and red bower of a bed for a teenage princess. Everything in this room was for a princess, everything her secret heart could desire, made by Lynne for Lucy. A little tendril of truth broke away and floated to the surface of her mind. She had stayed away because of Carl, certainly. But she had also stayed away because of Lynne and this, the burden of her constant ingratitude.

“It’s not that simple,” Lucy repeated, more quietly this time.

“Yes, it is that simple,” Lynne tucked her hands into the opposite wrists of her cardigan, like a child. “You were loved and you had everything. I don’t understand any of this.”

“Mom—” And Lucy stopped short. She didn’t have the right words to explain. Not without breaking her mother in two and she shut her mouth again. “It’s to do with me being an alcoholic.” It was such a cop-out she nearly winced at herself.

“What the hell are you doing?” Carl appeared in the doorway.

He looked like hell. His pajamas hung about his frame and were dirty and stained. Knowing Lynne, it must have been a battle of monumental proportions for Carl to still be wearing soiled clothing. His face was unshaven and gray, straggly beard dotted his chin and cheeks. All about his head, his hair stood up like a mad scientist’s. He looked certifiable, glaring balefully at her from bloodshot eyes.

“What are you trying to do?” His eyes darted over the small pile of plastic crates. “What is all this stuff? This is mine, isn’t it? You are throwing my stuff away.” Her father had grown old and pitiful and Lucy’s heart contracted painfully.

“Carl.” Lynne uttered his name as a sort of animal moan, but he ignored her and focused his feverish gaze back on Lucy.

“What are you doing with my things? These are my things.”

“They are old Halloween costumes of mine,” Lucy said gently. She got up and stepped out into the hall.

His hard, accusing eyes followed her movements as she bent and opened the nearest crate. “See, Dad?” She held up the mermaid. “Old Halloween costumes.”

“You’re trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?”

“What is it, Dad? What are you saying?” Lucy threw a quick glance at Lynne, but her mother wrung her hands and sent her a plea with her eyes. “Nobody’s trying to get rid of you, Dad.”

“You lie.” Spittle collected around the corners of his mouth and his eyes narrowed viciously. “You can’t lie to me.” He took a few steps toward her and Lucy retreated. “I know why you are here. I’ve heard you talking and talking. Trying to get rid of me.”

Lynne shook her head frantically in denial and Lucy took a deep, careful breath. “Dad.” She gestured toward the open box. “Take a look. These are boxes of my old Halloween costumes. I thought I might take them to the Salvation Army.”

“And where will you take me?”

“Pardon?”

“I heard you, whispering to her.” He jerked his head in Lynne’s direction. “Saying things about me so that she wants to get rid of me too.”

“Carl?” Lynne covered her mouth with her hand. “How can you say such things? Lucy is your daughter, she only wants what is best for you. We’re a family, we take care of each other.”

Lynne threw Lucy for a loop with that one.
No,
she wanted to shout.
We were never that family
.

“Shut up,” Carl said, rounding on Lynne.

Lucy swallowed the quick, sharp rush of anger and she clenched her fists together. It did no good to strike out in reaction.
Keep it cool, think, Lucy, don’t react, think.

“I don’t want to hear your lies.” Carl turned his venom back on Lucy.

It was easier when he picked on her and Lucy relaxed her fists. Lynne retreated into a wounded silence and Lucy stepped between Carl and the open doorway to give Lynne a moment to recover.

“You think you can get rid of me.” His feverish eyes tracked every move she made. “But I’ll get rid of you first. You can’t come back here. We don’t want you here.”

It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did, like a rusty blade to the gut. Lucy knew this about her father. Yes, he was sick and losing his wits, but he had never wanted her, never wanted a girl. She had spent her entire youth trying to be the boy he wanted. It had been a wasted effort. She kept her face blank. He would never see the marks he made with his cruel words. It was a habit so ingrained Lucy didn’t even have to try. The mask descended over her features like a curtain.

“That’s not true.” Lynne bustled around her and confronted Carl. “We do want her here. You miss her when she’s away.”

“Miss her?” Carl jeered. “Miss the drama and the tears and the performances? Don’t be stupid, woman. You were always blind to what she was, but I saw right through you.” He turned back to Lucy, his face flushed. “I see right through to the rotten core of you and I know you.”

“No, Dad, you don’t.” Lucy didn’t know much, but this she knew for sure. Her father didn’t even have a clue. Even now in his illness-driven malice, she was a stranger to him. And for once, Lucy was glad of it. This way, his power to hurt her was limited.

“You are not my daughter.” He pointed a shaking hand at her, like some caricature of a patrician father.

“Oh, I am that.” Lucy’s face twisted into a rictus of a smile. “I don’t think either of us is delighted about it, but we can’t change the facts now.”

“Get out.” Carl stumbled toward her.

Lucy backed away. Carl looked wild and out of control and her gut clenched nervously.

His mouth worked feverishly, his eyes had lost their focus. “Get out of my house.”

“Lucy.” Lynne’s eyes were wide in her face. “He doesn’t know what he is saying.”

“I think he does.” Lucy’s control teetered precariously. The malice on Carl’s face sent loud alarms screaming through her brain.

Carl moved closer until he was almost upon her. Lucy stepped back toward the stairs, but he kept coming. “I don’t want you here.” His jaw split into a manic grin. “I never wanted you here.”

“Carl!” Her mom was sobbing, but Lucy was aware of the stairs right behind her and she kept her eyes locked on her father.

“OUT,” Carl bellowed, his fetid breath hitting her face in a damp, nauseating wave. His face contorted with rage. Her father’s features wavered in front of her eyes, misty and unsubstantial.
No,
a voice whimpered in the back of her mind,
not again.

She looked over to her mother, desperately trying to anchor the growing fear.

Lynne had both hands clapped over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

Carl’s hand shot out and gripped her arm. Lucy tried to wriggle free, but he was stronger than he looked and he gave her a shove toward the stairs.
I always win,
his eyes glittered at her. His eyes loomed larger and larger in front of her. It was there, the desire to hurt and to punish. A voice screamed in her mind and Lucy’s breathing quickened.