Temptation: A Novel (16 page)

44. Now We’re Even

Lily might be right. I don’t know.

I guess you need proof in order to go to the authorities. Or to go to
somebody
.

I’m not sure what the next step is. It’s probably not up to me. But I do know one thing, and I’m taking care of that right now.

I’m not a monster and never will be.

It doesn’t take me long to walk down my road and stop at the gate that warns intruders away. The one with the
No Trespassing
sign and the camera on the ground. This time I know I’m being watched. I know they’re expecting me.

The wrought-iron gates aren’t locked.

The choice is up to me, he said, and this is my choice.

I slip through the gate and keep walking.

Daylight is almost gone, and when I head into the woods at the base of the Staunch mansion, I have to watch my footing in the shadows.

Wade is still down below, still chained to a rock at the base of the small waterfall, still being doused. He’s slumped over, not really able to sit but resting sideways on the rock.

I nudge him to see if he’s still conscious. He jerks and moves and then flails his arms.

I put my enclosed fist out toward him, then open my hand.

“It’s yours. You can go.”

He just looks at me with confused, frightened eyes.

“Take it.”

For a moment I wonder if he’s so tired and hungry and out of his mind that he thinks he’s dreaming. A shaking, bony hand finally takes the key.

He knows just like I do that he shot me, that I should be dead.

Maybe he believes I’m a ghost. I don’t know.

I’m not sure what he’s going to do once he frees himself.

This is the man that hurt Jocelyn and tried to kill you.

I’m not trying to be noble here. I shot him. He shot me.

Somehow we’re both alive to talk about it.

I walk away from Wade, hoping that we’re now even.

When I get to the top of the hill and leave the forest behind, I see a figure sitting on the deck. It’s dark—too dark now—to really make out who it is. But it’s not Staunch—this person is smaller. It looks as if he’s sitting in a wheelchair. Like an old person might.

Like someone who could be your great-grandfather might.

I stare and wonder if I’m going to hear voices whispering to me. Or if the wind is going to suddenly start blowing and getting creepy. But nothing like that happens.

The figure on the deck doesn’t move, but just faces out, looking down at me.

I’m tempted to wave, but I don’t. I leave the Staunch property behind.

45. Another Story

The letter is just one more thing for my mental To Do list:

– Get a job.

– Be on the lookout for anybody who was shackled to a rock, who I let go a couple of days ago.

– Check the piece of plywood underneath Mom’s sink to make sure it’s still got all the nails holding it down.

– Remember to feed Midnight. And take her on a walk.

– Find out how to go about getting my license.

– Find the road that leads to—that used to lead to—the Crag’s Inn.

– Start working out.

I put that on there because I saw a few minutes of one of those weight-loss reality shows, and I vowed never to be on one.

– Get something for Mom’s b-day (nonalcoholic).

– Learn to fire a sidearm (figure that could come in handy).

– Buy a gun (see above).

– Be prepared in case things with Lily suddenly go to the next level (this being even more unlikely than me buying a handgun).

– Did I mention find a job?

– Open the letter that just came in the mail from Kelsey.

I look at her handwriting. The envelope feels light, not too light but light enough. No ten-page letter inside. It’s not a card. It’s a good old-fashioned letter.

She tried to call and that went nowhere.

I really don’t want to open this letter. Like the email I got from Poe that I deleted, I don’t want to read this.

Maybe it’s just something friendly, like her way of saying hello.

But with everything going on in my mind—all the stuff that I can’t keep track of—I don’t want … no, I don’t
need
something else to think about.

I put the letter on my desk upstairs, unopened. It’s still only July. Eventually Kelsey will move on and find someone like her. Cute and unwatched and unchosen and all that. Someone who isn’t thinking about a new student named Lily, along with wondering what the guys up the street are going to do next.

Kelsey is for another story and not this one.

46. One Big, Gigantic Pool

I’m thinking of the remaining few days I have before the next session of summer school starts. This has been a nice break, despite, you know, getting
shot
and all.

I’m downtown Solitary at Brennan’s Grill and Tavern, eating a bacon barbecue burger, and I’m almost done when someone slides into the booth across from me. For a second I think it’s Marsh, but this guy is too big to be the pastor.

“Chris,” Sheriff Wells says.

“Hi,” I say with my mouth full.

“So how you doing?”

I nod and tell him fine. He looks at me with grim, suspicious eyes.

This was the guy who told me to lie low and keep to myself. Now he keeps popping up for some reason.

“Nothing abnormal going on in your life?”

“Nope.”

Abnormal around here would mean nothing was happening. So I’m not really lying.

“How about your mother? Is she doing well?”

“Yeah, last time I noticed, which was like five minutes ago,” I say. “She’s over there behind the bar.”

And speaking of bar, she’s well on her way to rehab, if that’s the “well” he’s referring to.

For a few minutes he asks me questions and I keep answering them in short, mouth-full-of-food answers.

“Well, it’s good to hear that everything is under control. I just had some information that I thought you might like to know. Considering everything.”

I nod, staring at the deep wrinkles on his face and the heavy bags under his eyes.

“They found Wade Sims dead this morning after he drove his car off the side of a mountain. All reports show he was drunk. Probably didn’t feel a thing.”

I suddenly have an eerie image of Staunch looking in the window and waving at me, an evil grin on his face.

Act normal just act like this doesn’t shock you.

“Wow, that’s crazy,” I say.

I guess the sheriff’s new role is to come and see me anytime something bad happens to someone I know.

I
really
don’t want to see this guy anymore.

“You didn’t happen to see Wade recently, did you?”

I shake my head, but it seems as if both the sheriff and I know I’m lying.

“Well, the funny thing is—not really funny, more interesting, I guess—is that Wade came back around here. There are no reports of Helen Evans being spotted anywhere in Solitary. The old house is still abandoned. Just took a drive there before coming here.”

The sheriff continues to look for a reaction from me, but I’m not giving him anything. The time came and went for that.

“Chris—I’m on your side here,” he whispers.

“Sometimes it seems as if there are no sides,” I can’t help saying. “That everybody is swimming in a nice round pool around here.”

“I can’t help it that we lost that young girl, Chris.”

“
I
lost her. I don’t recall you losing anything.”

Except maybe your guts and courage to stand up and do what’s right.

“Do you understand that within a very short time, two people who have recently had altercations with you have tragically died?”

“You think I had something to do with it?”

He shakes his head and then rubs his goatee. “I don’t know. I know it wasn’t you—but I think they’re tied together.”

“But didn’t you say Wade had been drinking?”

“It looks that way. But there are a lot of things around here that look a certain way.”

“So what are you going to do?”

He doesn’t seem to like my tone. He leans over and talks between clenched teeth.

“You listen to me—I’m just trying to help.”

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

I can hear the snotty, flippant attitude reeking off my words. But I don’t care. This man is as much to blame for Jocelyn’s death as Pastor Marsh.

One big, gigantic pool. Jump in, Chris, the water’s still warm!

“I’m still keeping an eye on you, just so you know,” the sheriff says as he slides out of the booth.

“Good. So’s the rest of the town.”

47. Drama

The drama seems to die down for a while.

I guess I should rephrase that, since I don’t want to use the word
die
anymore.

The drama goes away.

But Lily doesn’t. She remains nearby.

And my feelings toward her—these wild and uncontrollable urges inside of me—only continue to grow.

There are reasons for that.

And they’re not all because she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen around here since …

Don’t.

No.

Lily is more than a pretty face.

She also seems to be the only one around here interested in taking care of me. Not interested in what I’m doing and why or where I’m doing it. But just interested in how I’m doing.

Period.

There are others but you just don’t want to think about them.

I silence this voice by putting black duct tape on its mouth. I don’t want to think about anybody else. I just want to focus on Lily.

I lose track of how often we text each other. We’ll talk on the phone and I’ll drive out to see her, but the rest of the time I’m constantly sharing random thoughts with her.

I still don’t know what “we” are or if we’re anything at all. I know she’s expressed feelings—well, some feelings at least. She’s even kissed me. But there hasn’t been that thing that I keep wondering (hoping) will come. The moment when I stop being the little boy hanging around with her.

You never had a chance with Jocelyn because she was gone in a blink.

I don’t want to think that, but it’s true.

I don’t want to waste time with Lily. So I’m not.

Yet—I still don’t know how she feels toward me. Besides liking me and my company. Which is all fine.

But.

I’m just not sure.

But wait. Didn’t you say the drama was gone?

Maybe I’m doomed to be surrounded by drama. Even if it’s of my own making.

48. Alone

It’s strange to be stood up for a date by your mother. But that’s my world.

It’s July 15, and Mom said yesterday that we’d go out for dinner to celebrate her birthday. She said that she would try to get off early, that it shouldn’t be a problem.

It’s already eight at night, and it looks like something indeed was a problem.

Maybe you’re the problem, Chris.

I shove the Debbie Downer voice away even though I’ve tended to think that way recently when it comes to Mom. I’ve always wondered why she and Dad didn’t have more children. Did they even try? Or did they have me and then wipe their foreheads and shake their heads and go, “Phew! No more of those!”

I don’t know.

I just know that the present I bought her (and had nicely wrapped, thank you not so very much) is sitting on the breakfast table all by its lonesome little self. I don’t want to call—nope, I’m not doing that. I’ve checked our landline, and it works. I don’t bother checking my cell since I haven’t told Mom about it (since it’s from Pastor Marsh and all).

It’s eight fifteen when I decide to head out.

I used most of my remaining money from working at the Crag’s Inn on the present. Fifty dollars. Not much, but it got me a nice gift card from Ann Taylor, a store Mom used to shop at a lot back home. I’ve heard her complain many times about her clothes—a complaint she never used to have back home when Dad worked and Mom spent.

A small Happy Birthday note is in the card. I hate regular Hallmark cards with phony phrases. I don’t have a lot to say to my mom. Everything I
want
to tell her isn’t particularly good, so the note simply says,
Happy birthday, Mom. I hope this next year is a better one for both of us!

It’s true. Maybe it’s a selfish note. Maybe I should tell her she’s special and beautiful and that I haven’t given up on her. She
is
special, and she certainly
is
beautiful, but I think I have given up on her. Sorta like I’ve given up on this town.

The less I have to think about Mom or Solitary, the better off I am.

I get the key for the motorcycle and leave the gift on the table.

Hopefully Mom will come home before I do, open the gift, and feel sorry for forgetting about her son.

I know that’s kinda mean. But maybe it’ll get her attention.

Something has to.

I drive up to the bed-and-breakfast. It’s barely noticeable behind the trees and fading light. I’m hoping that I can surprise Lily. I told her that I was going to be spending the evening with my mom, and I even half considered inviting her. But I sorta want to keep Lily all to myself. I don’t want my mother and all
that
suddenly intersecting with her.

I shut off my motorcycle at a spot across the street. For a second I think of texting her to let her know I’m here.

But only for a second, because just then I actually see her.

Walking down the sidewalk arm in arm with some guy.

Some older guy. Like in his late twenties or early thirties.

I’m a bit breathless as I try and make out what I’m seeing.

Lily’s smile—flirtatious and dreamy—and her hand that gently strokes back her hair. She touches her grinning lips, then laughs at something the man said, then nudges him with a hip.

She’s wearing a short skirt and a low-cut top, like some kind of skimpy outfit for a night out on the town. But Solitary isn’t a town, and Lily isn’t …

The dude next to her sure isn’t her big brother.

He’s got a big, fat grin on his face, the kind that professional athletes have that says,
I have it all.

A big, fat grin.

I still want to believe or hope or try to imagine that it’s nothing, but then she kisses him.

On the lips.

For a long time.

I’m watching the whole thing, and they’re oblivious, this couple across the street, walking away from the B and B.

Oh man.

My mind is doing cartwheels as I just sit there on my bike, trying not to flip out. I see the guy get into some fancy, expensive silver car. Then, as he pulls out, the empty space allows Lily to see me.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even react. She just looks at me and stares. Since I’m not that close, I can’t see the true expression on her face.

I shake my head and try to start the bike back up.

I don’t need her. I don’t need her, just like I don’t need my mom or anybody else.

“Chris!”

I keep trying to start the motorcycle, cursing, and then suddenly Lily is standing next to me, touching my arm.

I yank it back and look at her. “Don’t touch me.”

I have a weird déjà vu but don’t recall what it is.

“Chris, please.”

My heart is pounding, and I really have no idea what to say.

“What was—who was that?”

“Calm down.”

She’s so calm and unfazed, but I continue to shake my head and laugh. “Oh, okay, sure.”

“Chris, please, just—get off the bike, okay?”

“Who was that?”

“Just an old friend.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I’d say he’s an old
friend.
Looks like you guys were really good friends.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t?” I ask. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t be a jerk.”

“Don’t—oh, sure—fine. Yeah, I’m the jerk.”

“I thought you were with your mother tonight.”

“She had other ideas.”

And I guess you did too.

“There’s nothing going on with him.”

Sure doesn’t look that way.

I can’t say anything.

“Chris, listen—he’s an old friend of the family. We go way back. That’s all. He stopped by to check on my mom and me.”

“Where’s your mother?”

“She’s inside.”

I look at her, and suddenly I see Jared all over again. Another person coming into my life to lie and cheat and steal from me.

And I don’t have that much to take. That’s the craziness of this.

“You want to go inside and see her? Let her tell you who Kurt is?”

“Kurt?”

The name sounds obnoxious and fake.

I look ahead down the street and remain lost for words. I hear the katydids droning on in the trees around us.

“Chris—”

“What?”

She grips my shirt in her hand, and she yanks at it. Hard. She pulls my whole body down, and I suddenly can’t believe how strong she is. She forces me to look her in the eyes, and then she curses at me and tells me to cut it out.

“Don’t be some stupid guy getting jealous over nothing.”

“Over nothing?”

“Yes, Chris,
over nothing. I’m not going to play games here—not here, not with you, not this way. You got it?”

She releases my shirt, and I bring my aching shoulder back up.

“You want to come in for a few minutes or what?”

Not now, not like this.

I shake my head.

“Well—I can’t hop on your motorcycle if that’s what you’re wanting,” she says. “My mom is pretty upset, okay?”

Yeah, well so am I.

I don’t know what to say.

“Call me tomorrow,” Lily says.

I nod.

“And stop, Chris. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“The sad puppy dog eyes. The little lost boy routine. Just stop. Grow up, okay?”

Ouch.

“That—that’s the last thing I need, okay?” Lily says.

“What?”

“Guilt. Suspicions. Jealousy. I swear—men are all the same. Doesn’t matter how old or young.”

She curses again and starts to walk across the street.

For a moment I want to follow her, but I don’t.

I watch her disappear under the trees, and I wait for a few minutes, then try to start the motorcycle again. This time it works.

I hope I’m never going to be running for my life and needing to start this old bike. Because the horror movie cliché is
totally
going to be there when I can’t start the stinking thing and the zombies come to bite into my flesh and carry my heart away in their mouths.

That’s the image I’m thinking of as I drive away from Lily.

A blood-sucking zombie with my heart in its mouth.

I drive into the night, feeling tired and very much alone.