Bound to be Dirty (19 page)

No one would call him and Lily that. Not when they'd met, not on their wedding day, and not now. He'd never been a guy who gave a damn about perfect, yet here he was, married to a perfectionist.

“So, high school,” she said reflectively. “I enjoyed it, but I was under my parents' thumb. I had to take the courses they approved, get top marks. I could only see friends they approved of”—she shot him a wry glance—“not that anyone else was asking me out anyhow. They didn't prohibit me from things like going to movies, but I got lectured about using my time more effectively.” She sipped champagne. “Your mom and grandparents didn't exactly keep you on a tight rein.”

“Nope.”

She put down her glass. “Dax, any time I ask you about the time before we met, you won't talk about it. I've respected that, but we promised to be honest with each other so I'm telling you, it makes me feel like you're shutting me out.”

Crap. He hadn't meant to make her feel bad. “It's not that. It was just a bad time.”

“What? High school?”

He gritted his teeth. “Everything, before that summer at Camp Skookumchuck.”

“Then all the more reason to talk about it.”

“I'm a guy. We handle stuff, we don't whine about it. My childhood's long past. Talking isn't going to change it.”

She leaned forward, her gaze intent on his face. “No, it won't change it. But it will help me, and I hope help us as a couple. Our pasts are part of who we are. Dax, how can I truly understand you if a huge part of your life is a big secret?”

Hmm. When she put it that way, it did kind of make sense. It was a very long time ago, so why was he making a big deal of it? Besides, it felt good, knowing that Lily cared enough to want to understand him. Tension eased from his shoulders. “Okay, fine. Twelfth grade. No, I wasn't on a tight rein. My grandparents tried to set rules, but it's hard to stop a rebellious kid so they gave up. They said I was just like my dad and I'd end up in jail too.”

“Dax, that's so unfair.”

Unfair? The story of his childhood. But sure, he could talk about it, if it meant so much to her. If it could be a step toward saving their marriage.

“What about your mother?” she asked.

He assembled a sandwich of French bread, salami, Brie, and sliced tomato. “She ran away with my high school dropout dad when she was eighteen. Mom and Dad, well, discipline wasn't in their vocabulary. They lived for the moment, for pleasure.” He bit into the sandwich.

“Sounds like a child's dream, but it couldn't have made for the most stable childhood.”

He snorted. “You can say that again.”

“Go on. Tell me more.”

He'd never told anyone this stuff, so he had to search for words to describe his childhood. After swallowing the last bite of his sandwich, he said, “My parents never grew up. Never took responsibility for anything. Didn't hold a job for long before they got bored, or decided to move somewhere else, or got fired. They drank too much, did drugs. Their relationship was, uh, volatile.”

“Volatile?”

“They said they loved each other, but they fought a lot. And made up. Loudly, in both cases.”

“Ick. That's no way for a kid to grow up.”

Tell me about it.
He drained his wineglass and refilled it, topping up Lily's glass too. “It taught me things.”

“Such as?”

“To look after myself.”

She gazed at him solemnly. “Because you couldn't count on anyone else to do it.”

This actually felt kind of good, telling Lily and having her get it. “Couldn't trust my folks for anything. Not to put food on the table, buy me new shoes when I outgrew the old ones, show up at a parent-teacher conference.”

“That's awful.” She sounded outraged, thank God, rather than pitying.

“They actually weren't horrible people, just immature and self-absorbed. It was all about them having fun.”

“They shouldn't have had a child.”

“No.” Nor should he. Thank God he hadn't knocked Lily up when they were kids, the way his dad did his mom. “There's a lot of things they shouldn't have done.”

“And after you graduated from high school, you all went your own way. That's sad.”

No, being with them had been sad; he'd been better off on his own. “Dad was a screwup. It wasn't healthy, being around him, even before he went to jail. Mom was an airhead. But I guess she loved him, since she took off to live closer to the jail so she could see him.”

“When?”

“Spring of twelfth grade.”

“She left you with her parents? How could she?”

He snagged a drumstick of barbecued chicken. “Dad was more important to her.”

“I knew you had family issues, but I had no idea how bad it was. Dax, I wish you'd told me this the summer we met.”

“I didn't want to think about it.” He also hadn't wanted Lily, the princess from another world, to realize how fucked up he was. “Anyhow, yeah, Mom left. A couple weeks later I turned eighteen. Then I got suspended for cheating. Which I didn't do. I wrote my history essay on the use of helicopters in the Vietnam War, and I guess it was pretty good. Which didn't match up with my marks and attitude the rest of the time.”

“That's terrible.”

“Can't really blame folks for not believing me. I kind of was an asshole back then.”

The corner of her mouth tipped up. “A sexy bad boy.”

“Whatever. Anyhow, for my grandparents, that was the final straw. They kicked me out.”

“What?”

“Kicked me out of the house. Said they didn't need any more of my bullshit, though they said it in fancier words.”

Her jaw dropped. “Before you finished high school? Dax, what did you do?”

“Thought about dropping out and working full time for the construction company. But the site manager said I should finish school. He was the only person I respected enough to take advice from. He let me stay in the trailer at the site until school ended, then the company sent me to the project at Camp Skookumchuck. And that catches you up to the point where we hooked up.” He gestured toward the chicken. “Want the other drumstick?”

She shook her head absentmindedly. “All I knew was that you didn't get along with your family, and that you all lost contact. I feel horrible that you didn't feel you could share the rest with me.”

“You'd have thought I was a total jerk, or that I was pathetic and felt sorry for me. Neither's the way I wanted you to see me.”

Nineteen

L
ily stared at her husband. That first summer, it had felt like they'd gotten so close, so fast. They'd shared their hearts, if not all the details of their lives. Now she realized she'd barely known Dax at all. Of course, at the age of seventeen, with her sheltered upbringing, how could she have related to the childhood he'd just described?

“No,” she told him. “I'd have thought you were tough and resourceful and been even more impressed than I was.” She now had an idea how deeply rooted his self-sufficiency was. It was a quality she'd always admired in him, and tried to emulate.

He ran a hand across his bearded jaw. “Huh. Now you tell me.” A grin flashed.

“Dax, it must have been horrible. Having self-absorbed, volatile parents who didn't look after your needs, then grandparents who kicked you out. I can't imagine how you felt.”

He shrugged and took a handful of olives.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“How it felt. Was it lonely? Did you feel shut out? Did you act out to get attention?”

“Oh Jeez, Lily, it's all in the past. Let it go.”

“But the past affects us.”

“You sound like a shrink.”

“And you sound annoyed. I'm sorry, I'm not trying to provoke you.” She touched his arm. He'd given her a lot already, opening up as he'd never done before, but she wanted—no, needed—even more, if they were to have a future together. “I know you don't like talking about feelings, but how can we know and trust each other if we don't share?”

He closed his eyes for a long moment and she wondered what was going through his mind. When he opened them, he said, “Fine. It was like you said. I felt like I didn't matter, like no one cared. It sucked. So I figured, screw them, I'm gonna live my own life. Then I met you and things changed.”

It was a bare-bones summary, but a step in the right direction. She decided not to push further. “Thanks for telling me. I wish you hadn't kept it secret.”

He frowned. “Yeah, that's funny, coming from you.”

“What are you— Oh, you mean the inheritance?” Yes, that was information she hadn't shared with him: the fact that she'd inherited three million from her grandmother when she was sixteen.

“You didn't tell me until after we got married. I can't believe you thought I was the kind of guy who'd be with a girl for her money.” The bitter edge to his voice told her this was still a touchy subject.

Because it had been a bone of contention, she'd avoided talking about her inheritance. Just like she hadn't pushed him to talk about his past. When he wanted to be a bush pilot, she never said she'd rather he stayed in Vancouver. This past year, she'd avoided asking him if he was cheating on her, or how he felt about their marriage, or whether he still loved her. The list went on and on. Now it was time to stop avoiding and open up.

“I didn't think that, Dax. Or, to be totally honest, I didn't want to. I really wanted—needed—to believe that you loved me purely for myself.”

“Like I said, you didn't trust me.”

“Hear me out. My dad had grown up with rich parents and he and Mom lectured me a lot about wealth. They said it's hard to know who your true friends are, whether people like
you
or just your money. That's why I stuck with those ‘ritzy' friends, as you called them. We'd been friends since we were toddlers, all kids whose parents were professionals, well-off, from the same neighborhood. To this day, I never tell anyone about the inheritance. The only people who know are my family and you.”

“Not your book club? Your colleagues?”

She shook her head.

“Huh.” After a moment, he said, “You know I'd have liked you better if you were poor, right?”

The comment lightened the mood and she did a mock huff. “Oh, thanks for that.” It was probably true, though. Before he'd started making good money, he'd protested when she wanted to pay for dinner or for travel to visit him when they lived in different cities. Dax wasn't sexist but he did have a healthy male ego. The only thing he hadn't objected to was her using her inheritance to pay for med school, rather than racking up student loans.

“If you weren't one of the ritzy kids, we might've gotten together in high school,” he teased.

“You'd have tossed me aside like your other girlfriends. The timing worked out the way it was supposed to for us.”

“Guess it did at that.” He studied the array of delicacies on the coffee table, choosing a wedge of Brie and some grapes.

“Anyhow, the main reason I kept the secret was so I could tell my parents you didn't know.”

His jaw tightened. “Not that it made them like me any better.”

“They could have liked you even less.”

“Hard to believe. They did everything they could to break us up.”

“Dax, I know they're rigid and heavy-handed, but they do love me. They think they know best and—” She broke off at his quick grin. “What? You think I'm the same?”

“Just a little.”

She frowned. The book club members teased her about being a know-it-all, and she'd overheard a grumble or two at the clinic. “Am I that obnoxious?”

He reached for her hand. “No. You're smart, focused, and a quick thinker. You analyze and reach a conclusion before other people, and when you reach it, you're pretty convinced it's right.”

“Not always.” She hadn't effectively analyzed the problems with her marriage or her clinic, or come anywhere near reaching conclusions.

“No. But when you do, you can be a little, uh . . .”

“Rigid and heavy-handed?” She repeated the words slowly, enunciating each syllable.

“You're strong-minded. That's much better than being wimpy. I've always admired your strength.”

Hmm. That sounded a bit better. Before she could thank him, he went on. “Except when you're up against your parents.”

She pulled her hand away. “I married you. That wasn't wimpy.”

“Shit, I didn't mean to get into this.”

“Into what? And why not?”

“Because it pushes your buttons and you get your back up and stop listening.”

“I do not!” She glared at him. “I'm listening. Go on.”

He raised his brows. “Okay, then hear this. You did two things that defied your parents: marry me and go into family medicine. On everything else, you back down. With other people, you state your mind and stick to your guns, but not with your parents. With them, you're a wimp.”

She would
not
be defensive. Raising her wineglass, she sipped as she reflected on what he'd said. Yes, she sometimes chose avoidance. With her parents, and with Dax too, as she'd been thinking mere minutes ago.

“Lily?”

“Yes, with my parents I avoid confrontation unless the issue is really important. As you said, they steamroll over opposition. It's exhausting, stressful, and unproductive to argue with a steamroller.” Besides, on the rare occasions she did win their approval, it felt so good.

A thought struck her. Growing up with her parents, had avoidance become such a habit that she used it with her husband too, even though he was a pretty open-minded guy? Had she subconsciously been afraid that if she challenged Dax or disagreed with him, she'd lose his love? How ironic if her failure to be open and honest with him had put that love in jeopardy. “Sorry.” She realized Dax had said something and she'd missed it while she was musing. “What did you say?”

“Just that I see Anthony and Regina do the same thing. But Lily, it's costing you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your parents disrespect you.”

“That's not true.”

“Oh, yeah? ‘You need a haircut; that shade of gray doesn't suit you.' ‘Your brother's doing a clinical trial; his wife's on the partnership track; they've produced a beautiful baby.'”

Yes, those barbs stung. Her self-esteem had also suffered when she'd thought her husband might be cheating on her and she hadn't had the guts to ask. “You have a point,” she admitted. “I can be a wimp, if that's what you want to call it, and I suffer for it. As for Mom and Dad, I don't think they intend to be that way. It's how they were raised.”

“Oh come on, people don't have to be like their parents.”

“You're right,” she admitted. Dax himself was the perfect example of that. “I don't want to be like my parents,” she added quietly. If—when—she had kids, she'd be a loving, supportive, demonstrative parent. She'd try to be neither overbearing nor wimpy. She gazed at Dax, her heart sinking. Right now, the likelihood of them having children together seemed very low. “I can't understand why you've stayed with me if I have all these personality quirks that bother you.”

“Oh, hey Lily.” He took her hand again. “No, that's not what I'm saying. You have way more great qualities than, uh, quirks that bug me. And no one's perfect. Me, least of all.”

She softened, letting him intertwine their fingers. “Thanks. And, for the record, when I first met you, I thought you were pretty perfect.”

“Me too. Young love.” He grinned. “Or lust. Glosses over the less-than-perfect stuff.”

“Which is inevitably revealed with time. And then, I guess people have to do what we're doing now. Talk about it, deal with it. Why did it take us ten years of marriage to do this?”

“Dunno. Slow learners?”

“Maybe, but here's a thought. In ten years of marriage, if you add up the time we've actually spent together, I bet it totals less than a year or two.”

“Huh.” He cocked his head. “Well, if we stay together, we need to spend more time together.”

Hope pulsed in her heart. “I agree.”

His face brightened and they shared a smile. Then he said, “I'm sorry if I was too hard on you, about your parents. It just pisses me off, the way they treat you.” He gave a wry grin. “Though it's sure better than the way they treat me.”

“I'm sorry they've never accepted you like they did Regina.” How that must sting, when his own parents had been too self-centered to care about him, and his grandparents had kicked him out.

“I wouldn't trade places with Regina. She's under more pressure than me.”

“What do you mean?”

“They gave up on me long ago.” He released her hand and tore a cluster of grapes from the stem. “But she's under a critical magnifying glass, trying to measure up.”

“Do you think she feels that way?”

“Yeah. She told me at Christmas. As a lawyer, Regina has to use strategies and tactics in her work, but in her home life she'd rather be upfront rather than deceptive.”

“Deceptive?”

“You all lie to your parents to avoid making waves. It sucks. You know how your parents have that not so subtle way of letting people know they're disappointed in you? Well, you have more reason to be disappointed in them.”

“I never thought of it that way.” Over the years, he'd bitched about her parents but the things he'd said today were insightful, and the first to really sink in. Food for thought . . .

Dax rose to tend the fire, topped up their glasses, then stretched out on his side, head propped up on his hand. “Tell me about your grandmother. Your family never talks about her.”

“Gran's the family black sheep.”

“Hey, I like her.”

“You would have. Grandpa had family money and was a prominent cardiologist—and yes, it was expected that Dad would be a cardiologist too, and that's what he did. They had a fancy house in Shaughnessy and she ran it and the garden, with staff, of course. They entertained a lot. Grandpa was on the board of directors of his golf club and Gran volunteered at the art gallery.”

“They sound a little like my mother's parents.”

“They probably knew each other. Grandpa was definitely the head of the household and Gran was, well, repressed. When he died, I was eight and she was only sixty. She . . . well, Mom described it as going wild. She sold the house and bought a townhouse downtown, she traveled, she even went on a singles cruise and came home with a younger man ‘friend.'” Lily put air quotes around the last word. “She took courses in anthropology, astronomy, and Indian cooking.”

He grinned. “Sounds like quite the woman.”

“That's for sure. She painted, mostly nudes, and she was good enough to have an exhibit. She stayed at an artists' commune in Mexico and an ashram in India. She rented an apartment in Paris, on the Left Bank. She had a male ‘friend' there too. My parents were embarrassed by her adventures.”

“And you?”

“I was more like, ‘You go, Gran!' I loved seeing her so happy and free. We had some great times together. She was so easy to talk to.”

“She died when you were sixteen? I'm sorry you lost her so early.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at her long, lean husband in his “Born to Fly” tee. “She'd have liked you, Dax. She'd have wanted to go flying with you. And tried to persuade you to teach her how to fly.”

“And I might've. So she left all her money to you because you were the one who cheered her on?”

“And because I was a girl. Her lawyer gave me a letter from her. She said she wanted me to be financially independent—of my parents, and of any man including my husband.”

He gave a thoughtful nod. “She wanted you to live the life that she couldn't until her husband died.”

“Well, to have options.”

Dax shot her a mischievous grin. “Like to live in an ashram or visit Paris and take a young lover?”

“She wanted me to be happy.”

“And are you, Lily?”

That question made her pause, press her lips together, and reflect. “Sometimes.”

“Such as?”

“Today, with you. Having fun together and also really talking.” It wasn't always comfortable, but it was hopeful. “And of course when I help a patient. Or examine a healthy new baby and see how much the parents love their little one. When I hold Sophia.” Though that was a mixed blessing, reinforcing her own desire to have kids. She shook her head. “No one's life is all happiness. Everyone has worries, responsibilities. Unfulfilled dreams.”