Nobody's Angel (24 page)

Lucy quit. Her phone vibrated in her hand. Twelve missed calls. The screen lit up again with another call. It was Mads and Lucy stared at it and waited for it to go to voice mail. Through the wall the soft sound of Lynne’s weeping came from the room next door. Lucy wished she could cry, but the tears were stuck somewhere in the middle of her.

The image on the computer screen burned into the back of her brain. It felt almost surreal. This was the sort of thing that happened to famous people. The e-mail, with the link, had dropped into her inbox about half an hour ago. It was one of those automatic notification e-mails, with no way to reply and no way to respond. She laughed softly. What would she say anyway? It was a little pointless to start protesting her innocence, not when the truth was there in black and white for anyone with a browser to see.

They were not bad pictures, considering how drunk Jason had been when he took them. It was not his finest work, but they were perfectly in focus and identifiable. There were only three pictures in the link. Lucy had no idea how many more there were, but she did have a vague recollection of Jason shooting spool after spool that night.

Lynne didn’t own a computer, but a friend had been kind enough to rush right over with her laptop. Lucy stared at it now. She lay sprawled across an unmade bed, her eyes vacant, dark smears of old makeup beneath them. In the pictures, she looked wasted; wasted and grubby and completely naked. The e-mail had a long list of recipients. Just about everyone she knew. Richard was on that list. She’d noticed that much before she’d got stuck on the site with the pictures.

God.
She’d been so stupid to even think there might be some kind of happily ever after out there for Lucy Flint.

She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes. Exhaustion dragged at her neck muscles until it hurt to move her head. Her cell rang again. Elliot. She let it go to voice mail. It rang again and she glanced down. Another number lit up the screen and this one she didn’t recognize at all. She let that one go the way of all the others. They would give up eventually.

Lucy stood up. She felt older than the wood floors that creaked beneath her feet. Carefully she closed the laptop. The pictures made her feel vaguely queasy.

“Lucy?” Lynne’s voice rose querulously from the room beside hers.

Lucy walked straight into the bathroom and closed the door.

Her mother’s footsteps crossed the floor toward the bathroom.

She stared at her face in the mirror, pale, tired with her mouth set in a grim line. It was the same face as the one in the pictures. Only she’d still had her short hair then. She touched the ends of her hair. Maybe she could cut it again.

“Lucy?” The handle rattled as Lynne tried to open the door.

Lucy kept staring at the face in the mirror. She had a few more lines on her face now, but all in all, not many. She probably looked better today than she had in those shots. Then, she had been partying hard and it was etched into the face in the photographs. Not that anyone would be looking at her face.

“What are we going to do, Lucy?” Lynne wailed from the other side of the door.

“I’m going out,” Lucy said. She hadn’t realized that was what she was going to do until the words came out of her mouth. And when they did, she knew that was exactly what she was going to do. She left her phone in the bedroom. She had nothing more to say.

She walked past her mother in silence. The weight of Lynne’s reproachful stare pressed into her shoulders as she descended the stairs. “Why did you do it, Lu Lu?”

Lucy snorted beneath her breath. Why had she done anything back then? She did it because it felt like a good idea at the time. She was a bad girl and she wanted the world to know it.

“Where are you going?” Lynne came halfway down the stairs toward her.

She shrugged and hauled on her coat. Lucy had no idea where she was going, just out.

“Shit.” Lucy hauled the frigid air into her lungs. It went down with claws all the way. It was so cold her eyes teared up immediately and then froze.

Lynne stood in the doorway, babbling about something, but Lucy tuned her out. It didn’t matter anyway.

She felt dead inside. There had been a brief moment, when she first followed the link, when she had felt shock and then rage. Then, it had all gone numb and she preferred it this way.

It was better this way, because nothing changed in the end. She had made all these huge life-changing decisions and done the demon confronting, but what for? What she had ended up with wasn’t peace or serenity. What she ended up with was nothing. Or worse, a dirty, smutty visual reminder of a girl you had once been. You couldn’t leave the past behind. You didn’t get to walk away from that girl.

It didn’t matter what she did.

Brooke was right. Lucy wanted to scoff at the idea of Brooke being right about anything, but there it was.

She would always be the girl in the pictures. It didn’t matter what she did on the surface, down deep there was that girl and she could never outrun her or leave her behind. She would always be Lucy the drunk, Lucy the slut, dirty, grubby Lucy looking wasted and out of it. The soul-searching, the tears, the desperation, and the shame had all come to this. It didn’t matter how much she grew or tried to change. Here in Willow Park everything was exactly the same. She was still the wild, out-of-control party girl who couldn’t be trusted and wasn’t worth shit. Hot breath formed icicles on the inside of her scarf.

She quickened her pace. The cold seeped through the toes of her cheap boots. She would need somewhere to get out of the cold.

She’d sent Mads the link just after she’d received it. Mads had been trying to reach her ever since. Mads would only talk and talk and Lucy didn’t want to hear it. She’d said all of those things to herself and they were nothing more than platitudes.

All the times she had clung perilously to her sobriety, fighting sometimes between one heartbeat and the next not to melt into the sweet, numbing oblivion of alcohol. And for what? For this? To stare into the face of Brooke’s bitter rage? To go round and round in circles with her mother and her father? To face the sharp, searing regret that was Richard? And to come right back to where it all began—crazy Lu Lu, up to her old shit again.

Lucy stopped and breathed—first in and slowly out. She forced the hopelessness to recede slightly and she looked around her slowly, taking it all in.

 

 

Lucy had no idea how long she sat at the bar and watched the barman pour drinks for the people around her. She had been walking for so long, her feet had gone numb and she had ducked into the nearest place that offered relief from the bitter cold. Seeing where she found herself had almost made her laugh. She was like a homing pigeon.

The bar had changed, more trendy and upmarket now and none of the old faces were around. God, she’d run riot in this place. Been asked to leave more times than allowed to stay.

The barman looked at her again, silently asking what she wanted. She shook her head and he turned away again.

A body slid into place on the stool beside her.

She kept her eyes on the rows of bottles along the mirrored shelves. So many different ways to lose herself and drink away the pain. Her old friends JohnnieWalker and Smirnoff winked at her.

The man beside her smelled great, familiar.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him raise a hand for the barman.

The newcomer turned on his stool.

She could feel his eyes on her face. Lucy glanced at him.

Josh Hunter looked back at her. His hair was tousled from the wind and his cheeks reddened by the cold. He nodded a greeting. He turned again when the barman returned.

The barman put two glasses of whiskey on the counter in front of them.

Lucy looked at the whiskey and looked at Josh.

Josh shrugged. “Your choice, Lucy.”

The familiar peaty scent of the liquor taunted her nose. It gleamed amber in the light from the bar. In that glass lay the path to sweet oblivion. All she had to do was reach over and take it.

Beside her, Josh raised his glass and downed it in one shot.

Lucy stared at her glass. Her hand twitched beside it, but she didn’t touch it. “You’ve seen the pictures?”

“Yup.” He motioned to the barman again. “And, in case you’re wondering, so has Richard.”

She still felt like ice inside, but a small shard broke away with a sharp jab to her chest. The glass beckoned to her.
Take me,
it whispered.
Drink me, and it will all go away in one sweet rush of alcohol through your system.

“What are you going to do, Lucy?” Josh sipped his second whiskey. He jerked his head in the direction of her untouched glass. “I’ll stay here and get drunk with you, if you like. I’ll even carry you home when you’re done, without trying to get into your pants.”

“They’re everywhere,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and strained.

“Yup,” Josh said, nodding. “I have managed to get the domain taken down and we can get them barred, but that won’t stop all the downloads that have already happened. Or the hundred horny men who will e-mail them to their friends.”

“At what point are you going to start helping?” The glass in front of her seemed to swell in size, the heavenly smell grew stronger.

“I have already helped you.” Josh grabbed her hand from the bar and held it between his. “I’ve done what I can, Lucy, but you know what the Internet is. Once something is out there, it’s out there and we can mitigate the damage going forward, but there is no stopping this.”

“Do you know who did it?”

“We do.” Josh pressed her hand. “Richard worked it out and he was the one who got the pictures taken down. I did the techie side of it.”

“Who?”

“Guess?” Josh cocked his head.

“Ashley,” Lucy rasped. “At first, I thought it was Brooke. Maybe she was still in contact with Jason or something.”

“You were right about that part.” Josh pulled a face. “Brooke managed to get the pictures out of Jason years ago, but it was only recently that Ashley came up with a use for them.”

“Where are they now?” Lucy’s fingers touched the edge of the glass. She rolled it against the pads of her fingers and nudged it a bit closer. One quick, practiced flick of her wrist and it would rush down her throat on a rich burn.

“Richard managed to get the originals. Fortunately, they weren’t digital and he could destroy the negatives.”

“Great.” Lucy curled her hand around the glass. The liquid sloshed lazily against the side of the glass. She watched the way it left a residue against the side of the glass. If it was a wine, they would call that its “legs.”

Josh sat silently and waited.

“Can you take me home?” Lucy turned to him.

An expression of instant relief flooded his face. He closed his beautiful, indigo eyes briefly and breathed. It mattered to him and Lucy felt the ice inside her start to shatter bit by bit and melt.

“Fuck, Lucy.” Josh shook his head slowly. “I thought for a minute you were going to drink that.” He gave a short laugh.

“Nope.” Lucy shook her head. “I’m done.” She pushed the glass away and swung on her barstool to look at him. “Did you look at the pictures?”

Josh’s eyes flickered away and to the left. “Only a little.” He gave her a disarming smile. “What?” he demanded when Lucy looked at him. “I had to open the site to get rid of them.”

“And that’s all you saw?”

Josh went a guilty, dull red. “They were naked pictures of a beautiful woman.”

“You’re a dog.” Lucy glared at him.

“You’re right.” Josh pulled a rueful face. “But I kept my eyes on your face.”

“Sure you did.” Lucy gave another short laugh. “God, this is not funny.”

“No,” Josh agreed, “but it could be worse. You could have taken that drink.”

Lucy drew a shaky breath. “You’re right.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “That would have been a whole lot worse.”

“You going to be all right?”

“Yes.” Lucy got to her feet. “Although, I am about to make a scene and I really would like you to get me out of here.”

“What kind of scene?” Josh was already on his feet. He dropped a couple of bills on the bar and gathered up her stuff.

“The crying kind.” Unshed tears gummed up her vocal chords as Josh slipped her coat around her shoulders.

“I know just the person for those sort of scenes.” His arm was warm as he led her out of the bar.

“I found her,” she heard him say into his cell phone.

 

 

“Belle fille.”
Donna opened her arms and Lucy walked right into them. “We have been frantic.” Donna enfolded her in a Donna-scented hug that shattered the last of Lucy’s composure. She started to cry in big, ugly, rasping sobs that shook her body.

Donna held on tight, her hands stroking Lucy’s back. She didn’t ask questions and she didn’t offer platitudes, she held Lucy. She was much shorter and Lucy had to drop her head onto Donna’s shoulder, but still she felt completely surrounded by the love of the other woman.

“Your Mads has been calling most of Willow Park trying to find you,” Donna murmured against her ear. “Josh will call her and let her know you are all right.”

Lucy wanted to ask where Richard was, but she dared not. Richard would have hated those pictures and what they represented. She had left him for that and it was so horribly sordid. Fresh sobs shook her and Donna’s arms tightened.

“You cry,
belle fille,
” Donna whispered. “And when you are done, we will see what is to happen next.”

Donna fed Lucy breakfast. There was no sign of either Richard or Josh this morning. Donna didn’t say where they were and Lucy lacked the courage to ask. Lucy wasn’t really hungry, but she ate anyway. It promised to be a long day.

She had cried for a good while the night before and when she was done, Donna had put her to bed. Surprisingly, she’d slept well. This morning, she was calm, but resolved. Whatever she had come here to do, it was done. You couldn’t go back and rewrite the past, you could only move forward.

“What will you do now?” Donna asked as Lucy shrugged into her coat.

“Go home.” Lucy looked away quickly. She had done enough crying for the time being.

“Are you sure?” Donna fastened her scarf around her throat. “You could stay here. If you wanted to stay.”

“I can’t do that.” Lucy shook her head. “Tell Josh, thank you very much. I left a message on his phone this morning, but will you make sure he gets it?”

“I will,” Donna responded, nodding, and turned her blue eyes on Lucy. Lucy struggled to hold their keen stare. “What should I say to Richard?”

Lucy opened her mouth and then shut it again. She had no idea what to say to Richard.

“You promised me,
belle fille,
” Donna said softly, “that you would be careful with him this time.”

“I know.” Lucy swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I didn’t know this would happen, though.”

“I think you should talk to him before you go,” Donna suggested. “He will not like it if you leave without saying anything, like you did before.”

“I’ll . . .” The idea of lying to Donna did not sit well. “I will try, but if I don’t, will you tell him something from me?”

“No,
belle fille.
” Donna shook her head sadly. “If you cannot find it in you to say it to him yourself, then it is not worth saying.”

Lucy nodded and looked down at her feet. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Bonne chance, belle fille
.
”
Donna gripped her face between her palms and kissed Lucy on the forehead. The touch of her lips was like a guilty brand on her skin as Lucy opened the door and let herself out into the morning.

Willow Park had thrown out its best this morning. It was a clear, crisp winter day. The sun shone out of a sky so blue it made her eyes water. The fresh, clean snow glittered with millions of points of light. Its pristine beauty tugged at her.
See, Lucy,
it seemed to say.
You can go, but there will always be a piece of you here, with us.

Everywhere she looked, people were out and about enjoying the milder weather and the sunshine. A group of young girls clustered outside Mr. Martin’s store and argued about something, happily and loudly. They were like a flock of chattering magpies, all made up and blinged out.

As she passed Mr. Martin looked up from the service counter and waved.

Lucy waved back.

He was totally immune to the chatter of teenage girls. He had seen them all go from buying Twizzlers to squealing and parading on the sidewalk outside his shop.

A small group of boys parted for her to walk through. About six hundred pounds of testosterone and the same again in attitude, they slunk closer to their target. Sooner or later, every teenager in Willow Park found their way to the old bench outside Old Man Martin’s. Nothing much changed here.

Except for Lucy Flint. Lucy Flint had changed. The woman she was today was not the girl she had been. She was not even the woman who’d driven in on a blizzard a few short weeks ago.

Past the bank she went. Somewhere in there, Guy Lewis would be working, Guy who she’d used and abused merrily for a short while. He’d cried when she made her amends and hugged her and told her she was still the most beautiful girl in the world.

Lucy smiled and looked through the window of the bookshop. Not such a success. Mr. Baker was not inclined to forgive Lucy’s attempt to get sexist literature burned. They had been learning about the sixties at school, feminism and banning the bomb. Lucy had gotten carried away. Mr. Baker still nursed a grudge.

Across the street, the old restaurant had changed hands. Lucy worked there in her final year of school. The former owner had been her kind of boss, never around to check on her, but always there before closing for a drink. She had not managed to track him down. Apparently, he was drinking his way through liver failure. It made her sad and it reminded her of why she was still at this, one day at a time.

Nope, not much changed in Willow Park. She went through her mental travelogue, ticking off the made amends as she walked. For the most part, people had been kind and overwhelming in their generosity of spirit.

In the bakery, she caught sight of Brooke and her son. His little-boy death stare tracked her motion past the shop. Brooke caught sight of her and looked away as quickly. Sometimes, there was no going back.

 

 

The house was silent as she strode down the deck toward the front door. The ghosts were still there, hanging around the corners of the house, but they had lost the power to frighten her. The front door jammed. Lucy tugged it slightly toward her, turned the handle, and then shoved. The door opened.

“Lucy?” Her mother appeared at the top of the stairs. “Oh Lucy, where have you been?” Tears glistened in the depths of Lynne’s faded eyes.

“I was with Donna.” Lucy took off her coat and hung it up. “Didn’t she call you and tell you?”

“You should have called.” Lynne sniffed, and hunted up the sleeve of her cardigan for the Kleenex always tucked there. “Your father has barely slept all night.”

“You’re right, Mom. I should have called.” Lucy pulled a Kleenex out of her pocket and handed it to her mother. She was done with tears for the moment.

“What are we going to do?” Lynne took the Kleenex and mopped at her eyes.

“Nothing.” Lucy reached over and gave her mother a hug. “We are not going to do anything. As much as can be done, has been done.”

“Your father had a very bad night.” Lynne tucked her hands up the sleeves of her cardigan. “He is very disappointed in you.”

Lucy paused in midstride and then walked past her mother and into the kitchen.

“I’m disappointed in myself. I let myself down when I was drinking.” Her mother opened her mouth to say something, but Lucy cut her off. “But I’m not drinking anymore and I don’t need to keep crawling for forgiveness. Not from anyone.”

“Well, of course,
we
forgive you, Lucy,” her mother insisted.

“Really?” Lucy looked at her mother. She almost laughed. “From where I’m standing, your forgiveness feels a lot like judgment. But it doesn’t matter,” Lucy continued. “Because I forgive myself.”

 

 

Making amends to Richard had been hard. This one was like swallowing razor blades. Carl sat in his new chair—a brighter, more colorful version of the old one—and gloated at her triumphantly.

“I’m on my way, Dad,” Lucy said to him. “I came to say good-bye.”

“So, now you’ve said it.” Carl sniffed, and turned the sound up on his remote.

You can be right or you can be free, Lucy reminded herself sternly.

“Um, Dad, could you turn that down?” She motioned to the television. “I wanted to say one more thing before I left.”

“I don’t have any money for you.” Carl didn’t look away from the television. He pointedly put the remote down on the arm of the chair.

So be it. Lucy stepped into the room and raised her voice slightly. “I wanted to say I was sorry, Dad.”

He kept his eyes glued to his program, but there was an almost unnatural stillness as if, for once, she had truly surprised him.

“I am sorry for all those times I worried you or embarrassed you. I want you to know how truly sorry I am for any harm I have done you. I was a confused and angry little girl and I didn’t always think of what my actions would cost other people. I know better now and so, I’m going to do better.”

Carl stared straight ahead of him. His mouth moved as if he were chewing something over silently.

This was for her peace. At the end of the day, it was all about that and now it was done. This was about being able to hold her head up high, free of the guilt and free of the anger. It was time for Lucy Flint to step out of the shadow of her past and into the sunlight.

“I really am sorry, Dad. I’m going to make it up to you, in any way I can.” And there it was, lying in the ether between them. The one, true instance of honesty they had ever shared. Father and daughter, locked in an eternal battle, constantly circling each other like a pair of bristling dogs.

“Hmph.” Carl pulled down the corners of his mouth as he watched the television. “Is this what they teach you in those meetings of yours?”

“It’s what I have to do to be free of the stuff that could make me drink again. I need to be proud of myself again and to do that, I need to break free of the past.”

“That easy, huh?”

Lucy had to laugh. “Trust me, Dad, this is not easy.”

Carl shook his head sharply and then he smiled, a small quirk to the side of his mouth. “No,” he said, and gave a gruff chuckle. “I am sure it’s not. You always did have your share of pride, but you came by it honestly. I was never one to apologize easily.”

An answering smile tugged at her mouth. The silence stretched between them as Lucy stood there, reluctant to let go of the brief flicker of accord.

In the background, the television blared hockey statistics.

It was as good as it was going to get and it was enough for now. “I’ll see you around, Dad.”

“See you, Lucy.”

She turned to go, but he stopped her before she left. “You got everything you need, Lucy?” She didn’t turn. He wouldn’t like her to see him unbending. “For your studies and all, you got everything you need?”

“Yes, thanks, Dad. I have.”

“Hmph.”

“Bye, Dad.”

Lucy closed the door quietly behind her.

Lynne waited on the other side wringing her hands anxiously. She blinked slightly when Lucy gave her a calm smile.

“I think he’s ready for his lunch,” she said. “I’ll go and finish packing up.”

“Did you upset him?” Lynne wanted to know.

“No.” Lucy shook her head. Amazingly, she hadn’t upset her dad.

 

 

“Where the fuck have you been?” It was the first time Lucy had ever heard Mads yell. “I have been having a purple shit fit over here.”

“Hey, Maddie Mads.”

“Don’t you ‘Maddie Mads’ me. I am so mad at you. I have been going crazy trying to find you.” Lucy heard Mads haul in a ragged breath. “Are you all right?”

“I am, now?”

“What does that mean?” She could hear Mads trying hard to get over her temper and be rational.

“It means, I was shit, but I’m all right, now.” Lucy looked around her bedroom, checking to see if she had left anything. “You saw the pictures?”

“Yes.” Mads went quiet, briefly. “Do you know how they got on the Internet?”

“I do and now they are off again. For what that’s worth.”

“Fuck.” Mads drew a ragged breath. “Why are you so calm about this?” she demanded suddenly.

“Can you think of a better reaction?” Lucy gave a dry laugh. “I didn’t drink, Mads.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Mads huffed indignantly, “because that would be the most fucking stupid thing you could ever do. Even more stupid than disappearing on your sponsor.”

“I really am sorry, Mads.”

“I’m still sulking, but I’ll get over myself in about a year or two.”

Lucy smiled. Her face felt stiff with the effort it took.

“So, are you coming home now?” Mads asked softly.

“Yes, Mads.” Lucy blinked away a tear. “I am coming home.”

Lucy drew the zipper around her suitcase. She reached over and straightened the heart-shaped pillows. She would leave the room as she had found it. Elliot had called it right, it was a shrine to a girl who had been. That girl still existed, she hadn’t disappeared, but she had grown up and grown stronger and she wasn’t hiding anymore.

Lucy unpinned a picture of her and Richard. She couldn’t even remember where it was taken, but he was looking down at her with his heart in his sky-blue eyes and she was laughing. The pain almost made her double over and she tucked the picture into the side of her suitcase.
Later,
she promised herself.

It took Lucy about twenty minutes to disentangle herself from Lynne. Now that the car was loaded and Lucy all ready to go, Lynne started to fuss. Did Lucy have her ticket?
Yes, Mom, it’s all electronic now.
Did she have a passport?
No, Mom, I don’t need one, just my driver’s license.

And then, Lucy must call her as soon as she arrived and wasn’t it good the weather was so clear. It gave Lucy something to concentrate on other than the growing ache in her chest.

Carl did not appear to say good-bye and Lucy didn’t look for him.

The walk had still not been shoveled. Richard had not been by.

Lucy shook off the thought as she left her mother inside the front door. More promises to call as soon as she got in and to come back soon.

She was so intent on getting out the door that she didn’t notice Brooke until she almost barreled into the other woman.

Brooke had her little boy with her and he stood by his mother’s side, clasping her hand with a huge, red mitten. All Lucy could see over his scarf was a pair of pale-blue eyes that matched his mother’s.

“Brooke?” Lucy prompted when it didn’t look like the other woman was going to speak.

“Lucy?” Brooke wore her zebras again. Her gaze shifted from Lucy to the boy by her side. “This is my son, Brad-Leigh.”

“Hello.” Lucy dredged a warm smile up from somewhere.