The Things We Knew (27 page)

“Mother.” Liz rolled her eyes, put her hands on Mom's shoulders. “If you ask me that one more time, I'm going to scream.”

“It's not home, you know.” Mom tucked a strand of Liz's thick blond hair behind her ear. “They have all kinds of rules. They'll make you study all the time.”

“And scrub the toilets. With your bare hands.” Lynette trailed into the room, ducking as her sister tried to smack her one. She stuck out her tongue and grinned. “Well, I'm just warning you. David says they make him eat bread and water and pig slop at his school.”

“David's full of it.” Liz smiled anyway, turned, and lifted the quilt on her bed to check underneath it. “Oops. What are you doing down there?” She dragged a dust-covered teddy bear out from under the bed and pulled away the cobwebs. “Hello, Ringo.”

Lynette chewed on a torn fingernail and tried not to notice the tears in her mom's eyes.

“Do you want me to pack him, sweetheart?” Mom asked. “You've already got a few stuffed animals in there, you know.”

Liz pushed her shoulders back and walked toward Lynette. “Will you take care of him while I'm gone, Shortstop?”

Lynette pushed her hands deep into the pockets of her denim overalls and shrugged. Her fingers curled around the pretty shell she'd found on the beach that morning. She didn't know why, but she suddenly felt like crying. “I guess. If you want.”

“Here, then.” Liz held out her old teddy bear, and Lynette grabbed him quick before her sister changed her mind. “And take off that awful cap.” She tossed the Red Sox cap to Mom and pushed her fingers through Lynette's mess of tangles. “You know you'd be pretty if you just took a little care. You've got to remember to brush your hair or you'll get horrible rattails. You're not one of the boys. You know that, right?”

“Sure.” She pretty much was, but she didn't want to argue with Liz.

Not today.

“I got you something.” She produced the shell and handed it to Liz. “If you put it to your ear, you can hear the ocean. It'll remind you of home.”

“Thanks, Lynnie.” Liz's voice cracked a bit and her cheeks got red.

“Do you really want to go away and leave us?” There was no worse punishment in her mind. Lynette couldn't imagine a day away from Wyldewood.

Liz bubbled with an excitement Lynette didn't understand. “I'm not leaving you, silly. I'll be back for some weekends. And holidays, of course. And we'll have all summer together.”

“We can go over to Boston anytime, hon. They'll let us visit,” Mom added. She didn't fake enthusiasm very well.

“Sure.” Lynette sniffed and bit down on her lip. A little kid would just bust up right about now, but she was almost ten. And she wasn't a sissy.

“Will you write to me?” Liz seemed a lot taller this summer—prettier and thinner. She would probably end up being one of those
models David and Ryan drooled over, move to Italy, and never come home.

“Yeah. But my paintings are better.”

“Send me some then.”

“Okay.” Lynette blinked. Her face felt hot all of a sudden. And next thing she knew her eyes were wet.

And so were Liz's.

Her sister drew her into a hug, held her a minute, then pushed back, smiling through her tears. “You better not let the boys catch you like this.”

“Don't tell.” She rubbed her eyes and tried to stop her shoulders from shaking.

“I won't.” Liz shook her head, solemn again. Mom put her arms around them both and kissed their wet cheeks. Lynette huddled close to them and wished somehow she could stop the world from changing.

Lynette hugged Ringo and listened to Liz's muffled sobs. The storm raged outside, but it was no match for the turmoil inside. She mustered courage, sat on the edge of Liz's bed, and placed the worn bear on her sister's chest.

Liz sniffed, sat up against the mound of pillows at the top of her bed. She picked up the old bear and folded her arms across him. “You can say it, you know.”

“Say what?” Lynette looked away, stroked the dog's soft ears, and listened to the wind pitch against the shutters. She couldn't look at the bruises.

“That I got what I deserved.”

Lynette forced her eyes to connect with Liz's. “Why would you even think that?”

“Because it's true. He told me he loved me. I was stupid enough
to believe him. I believed him every time he said he was sorry. Believed he'd never do it again.”

“Liz.” Lynette grasped her sister's hand and blinked back tears. “Nobody deserves to get beaten. I wouldn't wish this on you.”

“I wouldn't blame you if you did.” She picked off a few stray cobwebs wound around the old bear's head. “I haven't exactly been the best sister in the world.”

Lynette couldn't really argue with that. So she shrugged and tried on a tiny smile. “I suppose we could be closer.”

Hollow laughter stuck in Liz's throat. “Don't you ever get mad, Lynnie?”

“What should I be mad about?” She longed to scale the wall around her sister's heart, but it was too high. No matter how good things were, with Liz, there was always something to gripe about. The Great Complainer, Dad used to call her.
“There she goes again, oy.”

Liz dabbed at her cheek with the washcloth. “You're such a Pollyanna. It makes the rest of us look bad.”

“Sorry.” Lynette grinned at her sister's frustration. Then she grew serious. “So this isn't the first time he's hurt you?”

Silence forced her to listen to the storm. Lynette shuddered and pushed away the memory.

“No. But it will be the last.” The spoken words sang with victory.

“Will you go back to New York?”

“I don't know.” She tossed Ringo from one hand to the other. “The apartment is Laurence's. I'll have to go get my stuff. I might look for a new job. Maybe even work from here for a while, until I decide if I want to stay with the company.”

“He works there too?” Lynette didn't remember the details. She'd only met the man once, about a year ago when her sister dropped in unannounced for a brief visit.

“Sweetie, he's the CEO.”

“Oy.” The word slipped out. She twisted her hands together and debated her next move. But then Liz began to laugh.

“Oy vey.” Her sister made a sound that landed somewhere between hilarity and despair.

Lynette moved a little closer and put her arm around Liz's shoulder. “It can only get better, right?”

Liz gave a long sigh, sat up, and wiped her eyes. “Right. Que sera, sera.”

Mom sang that song to death—until they ran from the room whenever she started humming it. But no truer words were written.

Whatever will be, will be.

Lynette waited a moment, then unclasped the chain from around her neck and held it toward Liz.

“What's this?” Liz examined the small key warily.

“The key to Mom's room.” There was no use fighting the inevitable.

Not anymore.

Her sister stared at it, silent. She was quiet for a full minute. “What have you been hiding in there?”

Lynette sighed. “You'll see.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means . . .” Lynette ignored her fear. “I can't remember things, Liz. But I think I need to. I'm tired of hiding from the truth.”

“What things?” Her sister's eyes got rounder, filled with fear. “What truth? Are you talking about when Mom died?”

“Yes.” She whispered the words, desperate to get this done.

Liz put her hands on her shoulders and held her gaze. “Lynnie, what are you telling me? You . . . don't remember . . . anything?”

“I didn't. But now . . .” How to explain the unexplainable. “I was there, Liz. When Mom died. I know that. But I can't remember anything about that day. I don't know what happened.”

The truth lurked in her nightmares, danced in the dreams that disturbed her sleep.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, memories hid. Memories so full with bitter ache that she'd buried them way down deep and out of reach. Left them alone, undisturbed for years.

But like it or not, they'd started to claw their way to the surface. And sooner or later, they would become real.

N
ick closed the door to his room the next morning and walked down the hall. He'd spent the night in one of the vacant rooms at Wyldewood, but it had been quiet. Not that he'd slept much. He woke with every noise, thinking any minute Liz's boyfriend might tear down the front door. And the fact that Lynette's room was just a few doors away from where he was trying to sleep hadn't exactly lulled him into deep slumber. He'd crept home before the sun rose and grabbed a couple more hours of rest.

Lynette.

Just thinking about her made him grin. He sure hadn't come back here looking for romance. And he certainly hadn't expected to be slayed at the knees the minute he set eyes on her. But Nick recognized the feeling.

Happiness was within reach. So close now he could almost touch it. Yet there was still so much sorrow. So much of the past left between them.

Lynnie's lack of memory troubled him most. Some of the things she said scared him. Pushed him toward truths he didn't want to think about, much less face.

What had she seen the day her mother died?

What did she really know?

One day they'd have to talk about the things he'd attempted to
banish from his mind. One day he might be able to face the transgressions of their parents without bitterness and shame. Today the thought still made him ill.

If Lynette didn't know, what right did he have to tell her?

But he suspected she did. He'd seen too many ghosts in her eyes the past few weeks.

And lately he'd had this awful feeling that she knew more than all of them.

“Nicholas? So nice of you to join us for breakfast,” his father said in a sardonic tone. Nick drew in a breath and turned around. When he entered the room, his heart jumped.

Maurice Vanguard sat with his father at the long mahogany table. His wife, Cheri, sat opposite him, and next to her sat Mindy. The two men were dressed for the golf course, while Cheri and Mindy both wore Lily Pulitzer and matching anxious expressions.

“Hey.” Nick raised a hand and tried to act casual. “Didn't know you guys were on the island.”

All three stared at him like he was next in line at the firing range. As their target.

“Where, pray tell, have you been?” Dad's eyes were ice chips.

Nick almost ducked, frantically trying to get his brain to work. “Next door. They . . . uh, had some problems. I was helping.”

“All night?”

“How nice of you.” Mindy smiled and dabbed at her lips with a linen napkin. “I don't suppose, in all your neighborliness, that you bothered to check your messages?”

Nick fished his cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans and pressed a couple of buttons. “Dead.”

“Sit down.” His father jerked his head toward an empty chair.

Nick obeyed, trepidation crawling up his spine. Dad had said something earlier in the week about the Vanguards coming on the weekend. He'd totally forgotten. After spending all day sailing, he'd just wanted to crash. Then Liz showed up and all hell broke loose.

Soraya served him a plate of steaming eggs, bacon, and sausage with a side of hash browns and roasted tomato. Nick's mouth began to water, and for a moment he forgot his present company as he shoveled food into his mouth and gulped coffee.

“Lord, Nicholas.” Dad slapped a newspaper onto the table and pushed his chair back. “When you've finished making a spectacle of yourself, come into the living room. We need to talk.”

Nick tried not to choke on a bite of sausage. He and Gray were going to work on some music today. “Um, kinda busy,” he mumbled between bites, lowering his gaze to avoid his father's blistering glare. He reached for the coffee and poured himself a refill.

“You'll get unbusy. Don't take too long in here.” The two men strode out of the room.

“Come, Miranda.” Cheri excused herself, leaving behind a haze of perfume that made his eyes sting. Mindy shot him a look he couldn't read, then scurried after her mother.

Nick leaned back in his chair and ran a hand down his face. The hurriedly eaten food settled in his stomach and he downed a glass of orange juice. If they planned to haul him in for questioning about Mindy's relationship with Horse, he'd cheer. Life probably wouldn't be easy for Mindy for a while, but her parents would get over it. Eventually.

Nick finished his coffee, waited a few more minutes before joining them.

His father wasn't sitting. He was pacing. Maurice was doing the same on the other side of the room. Cheri and Mindy sat on opposite ends of a pale yellow couch, looking like they'd just been told Saks was shutting its doors.

Nick flopped onto a leather recliner and folded his arms. He steadied his gaze on Mindy and felt his pulse kick up a notch.

Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, her normally flawless face sporting a scarlet hue.

“All right.” His father stood ramrod straight. “You're one of the
first to know this, but Maurice is going to be running in the next presidential election.”

“Okay.” Nick mustered a smile for the senator. “Congratulations, sir.” God help America.

Maurice nodded. Nick studied his father and tried to figure out his thoughts. As always, it proved impossible.

Dad smoothed his hair, his eyes still fixed on Nick. “This isn't the best news in the world, but we'll deal with it. If we start arrangements now, I don't see why a Labor Day ceremony couldn't happen.”

“Agreed.” Maurice cleared his throat. “You know, I hoped for a little more respect, Nicholas. I know I'm old-fashioned and set in my ways, but—”

“Darling, you're terribly old-fashioned.” Nervous laughter came from the direction of the couch. Mindy's mother's smile threatened to undo her latest boost of Botox. “Young people these days don't think like we do. Just consider yourself fortunate that they will actually be married before the baby comes. I know at least three young women Miranda's age who are raising children alone.”

The words
married
and
baby
bounced against his brain. Indigestion burned upward, threatening to evict his hastily eaten breakfast. “What . . . what's going on?”

Mindy made a small choking sound. “They found out,” she whispered. Two tears rolled down her cheeks. Cheri moved to her side and took her daughter's hand.

“Found out what?” His palms grew damp. The back of his throat was on fire. If they didn't quit staring at him, he was going to say something really stupid. Or puke on the rug.

“We don't blame you, Nick. I know Maurice can be a little intimidating. Mindy said you were waiting for the right time to speak to us, but she was so upset yesterday . . . Well, I suppose I forced it out of her.”

“
I
was waiting for the right time? For . . .?” His stomach began
to roll and he gripped the sides of the chair. “Mindy?” A million thoughts raced through his brain. Not one of them good.

“I told them about the baby, Nick.” She wouldn't look at him.

Nick slid his feet to the floor and put his hands on his knees. Light flashed in front of his eyes. “Baby?”

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Dad said drolly. Nick watched in disbelief as he strode to stand before him and stuck out a hand. “Guess I'll live to see my grandchildren after all. Assuming I don't pop off in the next few months.”

His father's comment seemed to lighten the mood, but the real meaning behind it slammed into Nick with the force of a linebacker. He sat motionless as his father slugged him on the back and then went to shake hands with Maurice. Cheri started prattling about wedding gowns and flowers.

They were opening champagne.

Suddenly Nick saw the rest of his life laid out before him. He slowly got to his feet and walked to where Mindy sat. Her eyes begged him into silence. But he shook his head. It was time he stopped running from the truth.

All of it.

“You're pregnant?” It didn't surprise him. What surprised him, what hurt, was that she was willing to throw him under the bus in order to protect herself.

“Nick, please. Don't do this.”

“Are you kidding me?” No, no, no. He wouldn't let her suck him in again.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, fresh tears falling. “They just assumed, and I . . . I didn't know what to say.”

“You didn't know what to say? I'll tell you what to say!”

“Is everything all right?” Mindy's mother hovered, concern shining in her eyes.

“No, everything is not all right.” He blew out a breath, fought for calm, and raised his hands in surrender, ignoring Mindy's
desperate look. “Sorry. I can't do this anymore, Mindy. I'm not doing it. Tell them the truth. Now.”

“Nicholas, what are you talking about?” His father moved closer, his brows inching together.

They all stared at Mindy, waiting. For a moment, Nick felt sorry for her. But not sorry enough to continue the charade. He should never have agreed to it in the first place.

“It's not Nick's baby.” Mindy faced them bravely, her voice shaky, but she lifted her head and met Nick's eyes with a faint smile.

“Don't even tell me . . .” Maurice swore, Cheri shushed him, and Mindy started to cry.

Nick had been around the Vanguards enough to know how this would go down.

Mindy would come clean, Maurice would have a fit, and Cheri would run interference, trying to soothe the stormy seas, eventually they would all calm down, and life would return to normal. And Mindy might even get to marry Horse.

He backed away and left the room, relief flooding through him.

Outside on the patio, the sun spread warmth across the flagstones and Nick sank into a chair. It was over. He'd been an idiot to let it go on this long, and yes, he felt badly for Mindy, having to face her parents and admit to all the lies, but that wasn't his problem.

Not anymore.

The French doors opened and closed, and he heard the scrape of a chair being pulled up beside him. Dad sank into it and stared at him in disbelief.

“Are you seriously going to tell me you've been letting that ridiculous girl use you as her pretend boyfriend all these months?”

Nick tipped his face toward the sun. “I didn't see the harm in the beginning. You know how Mindy is. But I let it go on too long.”

“I'll say.” Dad let out a long whistle. “Well, Maurice is not happy, I can tell you that.”

“I didn't figure he would be. He'll get over it.”

“When hell freezes over, maybe. What were you thinking? This could have been disastrous. Sometimes I wonder about you, Nicholas. Why do you have such a need to be everybody's hero?”

Nick closed his eyes. “Do I? I don't think I do, not really. I just like knowing people are happy. What's wrong with that?”

“I suppose the Carlisle girl is now on your list of people you'd like to keep happy?”

They'd had this conversation and he was in no mood to rehash it. “I'm not doing this with you.”

“Oh, simmer down.” Dad waved a hand. “Do what you will. If she makes you happy, bully for you. But remember, I need you to be available the next couple weeks for board meetings. We'll be in New York a few nights, and you'll have to go back and forth a bit. So if you've made plans, cancel them.”

“I hadn't forgotten.” Well, he sort of had. He'd wanted to take Lynette out for dinner, start spending more time with her, just the two of them. “I'll be there.” He stood to leave, and Dad cleared his throat.

“Why didn't you just tell the truth weeks ago?”

Nick met his father's gaze and held it. “Would you have believed me?” He waited a moment, hoping for the answer he knew he wouldn't get.

His dad shrugged. “I don't suppose it matters now, does it?”

Nick shook his head. “No, Dad. I don't suppose it does.”