The Things We Knew (29 page)

“I don't know what to think anymore.” David's voice was low and barely audible. “Read the rest, Liz.”

“I can't.” She tossed it his way. It landed near his feet, and David reached for it and flipped it open.

June 25. I'm not sure how much time I have before this all comes out. I went to see Anthony today. Took Lynnie with me, stupid thing to do. I didn't want him to start anything, so I thought if she was there, at least out in the car, things would be okay. I told him it was over, that I wouldn't see him again. He yelled a lot and followed me out to the car. I'm not sure what she heard. I drove around the island a couple of times and she didn't say one word. Even refused ice cream. As soon as we came home she ran to her room and slammed the door.

Drake knows. I'm sure of it. The look in his eyes today, that silent, seething anger. He's gone now, but he'll be back. There's a storm coming. It's already raining.

He's going to confront me soon. Or he'll light into Anthony. Or both. I've known this was coming for a while now. It's probably best if I just leave, get away for a bit. Not sure how I'll live without—

David cleared his throat and sat in silence for a minute. Gray watched two tears spill from his brother's eyes and slip down his cheeks.

Without my darlings. I love them so much, even though they think I'm pretty dumb most of the time. They're the best kids in the world and I don't deserve them. I don't want to hurt them. Or Nicholas. This is such a mess . . .

“That's it?” Liz squeaked.

“That's it.” David tossed the book back to her and shook his head.

It was even worse than he'd imagined, when he allowed his mind to go there. Gray fiddled with the strap of his watch and thought about Nick. Knowing for years without saying a word. In his own way, he'd been trying to protect them from this. Trying to do the right thing, as usual. But who'd been looking out for him? What kind of pain had he endured, knowing the kind of man his father really was?

Gray pushed to his feet and wandered around the room, trying to make sense of it all.

The room.

The past.

The truth.

“Mom and Cooper's dad had an affair,” he finally said. “That much we do know. What we don't know for sure is who did this.” He gave a wide sweep of his arm. “And why.”

“Obviously it was Lynnie.” Liz seemed to have recovered. Her business tone was back. “Why else would she have pitched such a fit when I wanted to come in here?”

“It could have been Dad,” David suggested. “Who knows where his mind is these days.”

Liz shook her head. “I don't think he'd have the wherewithal to do this. It had to have been Lynnie.”

“Why do you think she finally gave you the key?” Gray watched his sister tear up again.

“Maybe she wanted us to know.” Liz sucked in air and wiped her cheeks. “If she knew about Mom and Anthony Cooper, and she's been keeping that secret all this time . . .” She raised her hands and let them fall. “She told me she doesn't remember things. Specifically, she can't remember anything about the
day Mom died. I think Lynnie saw what happened. I think she's the only one who can tell us whether Mom's death really was an accident.”

Gray didn't hear the footsteps at the door until it was too late.

Pops stood in the doorway, staring at the three of them, eyes wide, mouth open.

D
avid scrambled to his feet. Liz blanched and, for once, had nothing to say.

Gray tried praying again.

“Oh.” The word fell from his father's lips like one of David's decimated trees, thudding through the silence. Something flashed across the plains of his face as he entered the room—recognition? shock?—Gray couldn't tell. Pops's eyes remained vacant as ever.

Nobody spoke as they watched him wander the room.

He stopped at the dresser and picked up the hairbrush and started that slow humming he'd taken to doing of late. Turned it over in his hand and gently placed it back down again. He fiddled with a couple of the ornaments and then turned around to face them, a funny sort of smile on his face. “I can't remember why I came in here.”

Liz moved first. Put an arm around his shoulder, leaned in, and kissed his weathered cheek. “It's okay, Dad. We were just going downstairs anyway. Would you like some tea?”

“Tea?” The disturbed look left him and he smiled. “Yes. Lovely. But . . . Oh, that's it!” He smacked a hand to his forehead. “Can anybody tell me why there is a little black boy running around the house?”

“Dude.” Gray didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Drake Carlisle had managed to pull off his final retreat into insanity at just the right moment.

Pops's timing was always perfect.

“A what?” Liz also sounded on the verge of laughter as she caught Gray's eye, her eyebrows shooting skyward.

“A child. Tiny. Very dark.” Pops shook his head in annoyance. “He's tearing around the place screaming like a banshee. What's he doing here?”

“No idea, Dad.” David rounded him on the other side and squeezed his shoulder, his face marred with pain he couldn't voice.

“Oh.” He shrugged and gave that lopsided smile Gray was getting used to. “Well, perhaps we should offer him tea?”

“Sure, Pops.” Gray couldn't help grinning despite the ache in his chest. The humor faded a minute later when a small child raced into the room and ran circles around them, punching the air with his fist.

“Jambo!”

“There he is!” Pops lunged, but the kid was too fast and sped out of the room quicker than he'd come in.

“Jambo!”
The kid's raucous yell reverberated down the hall.

“What just happened?” David scratched his chin, a bemused smile twitching his lips.

“I don't have the slightest idea.” Liz stalked to the door and looked into the hall. The dogs were barking, the kid still yelling, and the astonishment on Pops's face was more than Gray could take.

Laughter erupted like Mount Vesuvius. His dad joined in, even though he probably didn't know what he was laughing at.

“This is an insane asylum!” Liz glared at him. “Grayson, I don't see anything remotely funny about this. And who was that child?”

“Hey! Anybody home?” A familiar voice rumbled up the stairs.

Gray stopped laughing. Liz's austere expression fled, chased away by a smile.

David let out a low whistle. “Well, it's about freakin' time.”

A moment later Ryan marched into the room, holding the little boy by the hand.

“Hey, guys!” Their brother hugged Liz first, clapped his arms
around David, and embraced Pops and Gray. Ryan was so caught up in greeting them that he didn't appear to notice anything amiss in the room. Or that Liz's face was all banged up and she was still in her pajamas.

Gray crouched by the small boy. “Hi, little dude. What's your name?”

“Isaiah.” Big brown eyes stared up at him, his earlier exuberance gone in the presence of so many adults.

“Cool name.” Gray smiled and held out a hand. “I'm Gray.”

Isaiah nodded and smacked his palm. “Like the color?”

“Guess so.”

“I am seven. How old are you?”

“A lot older than seven.” Gray chuckled and moved off as Ryan patted the boy on the shoulder.

“Isaiah, Gray is my brother. And that's my other brother, David. And this is my sister, Liz. And my dad, Mister Drake.”

“I am pleased to meet you all.” A huge smile split Isaiah's face as he went to each of them in turn and solemnly shook hands. “I say
Jambo
! It means hello in my language.”

“Jambo!”
Pops clapped his hands together, his eyes twinkling as he smiled at the boy he'd been ready to paddle moments earlier.

“Man, I almost forgot!” Ryan pointed at David. “Your wife's downstairs with the kids. I couldn't get through on the house phone to tell you all I was coming, so I called your house. Isaiah and I stayed with Josslyn last night, and she decided to come with me.”

“Decided that all on her own, did she?” David gave their brother a knowing look.

Ryan's eyes sparkled and he held up his hands. “God works in mysterious ways, brother. Go on, we'll talk later.”

David sped out of the room like his feet were on fire.

Gray's mouth threatened mutiny with a smile. If he hadn't been on the verge of a nervous breakdown, he might have allowed it to spread.

This was all too much.

He caught Liz's eye and indicated the door. She got the hint and somehow managed to sound nonthreatening as she invited Isaiah downstairs for a snack and took Pops along too.

Gray watched them go, then set his gaze on Ryan.

Only older than Gray by two years, he and Ryan had always been close. But after Mom's death, the last few years of high school pushed them in different directions. Ryan took up with a group called Young Life and started yammering on about Jesus and getting saved. Suddenly he was all about Bible studies, bake sales, and car washes. And Gray wasn't.

Nobody was shocked when Ryan chose to go into ministry. He took a post at a small church in Virginia for a while, but soon the call of Africa got too loud, and he moved over there to work full-time. Gray tried to keep in touch, but as his life got crazy, it was easier not to.

“It's been awhile.” Ryan pulled him into another firm embrace. “I've missed you, brother.”

“You too, man.” Gray nodded, his throat thick. They'd always called Ryan Stringbean, but now Gray would tag him Quarterback. But the extra bulk suited him. His dark hair was on the longish side and curled around his neck, his face covered in a few days' stubble. He looked so much like Pops it was a little freaky. “How've you been, Ry?”

“Good. Can't complain. And you?” His look said he knew exactly how Gray had been, but his smile was genuine and somehow reassuring, putting a little light into what had turned into a rather dark day.

“I'll be okay.” Gray believed that sometimes. Right now he wasn't totally convinced. “Who's the kid?”

Ryan grinned and scratched his chin. “He's mine.”

Gray widened his eyes. “Uh, Ry, hate to break it to you, man, but there isn't a whole lot of family resemblance there.”

“No?” His brother laughed, shrugged out of his lightweight coat, and tossed it over one arm. “Isaiah's family was killed two years ago, and he ended up in the orphanage where I work. We got pretty close and I . . . well, I decided to adopt him.”

“You did, huh? Don't suppose you've got a wife you're not telling us about either?”

“No.” Ryan looked away, finally scanning the room. “No wife.” He inhaled sharply and let his breath out again. “Uh, Gray?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Didn't we . . .?”

“We did.”

Ryan moved around in slow motion, taking it all in. Checked out the items on the dresser, the clothes in the closet, even checked out the bathroom. At last he sank onto the edge of the bed and stared up at Gray. “What's going on?”

Gray cracked his knuckles and tried to come up with words that wouldn't give Ryan cause to question his sobriety. There were none. “We're not exactly sure. Lynnie had the room locked up. Liz finally got her to give the key over, and we found this . . . just today. We're still trying to figure it out.”

“Lynnie did this?” Ryan pulled a hand down his face and muttered incomprehensible words.

“We think so. We don't know why. Liz seems to think she's got some repressed memory or something, that she knows what really happened the day Mom died.”

Ryan's eyes clouded over, his jaw working double-time. “Oh, Lord in heaven. Gray, where is she?”

“She was at church. But now . . .” Gray checked his watch. It was early afternoon. “Babysitting.” The sound of children's laughter floated up the stairs. “She'll be back tonight.” His head began to thrum and the old familiar tug started. This would all be so much easier with a little something to get him through . . .

He squelched the thought and studied Ryan again. “Before
we go downstairs, there's something else you need to know. Well, actually a few things. I just don't know exactly where to start.”

“Okay.” Ryan lifted his hands and let them fall into his lap. “Start at the beginning.”

Ryan took all the news rather well. Said he'd had his suspicions about Mom and Mr. Cooper all along, just never voiced them. And as Gray expected, he treated Pops like nothing was wrong, showing more tact and respect than any of them, with the exception of Lynnie.

After Gray helped with the bags and got them all settled in rooms upstairs, they sat in the kitchen while Josslyn foraged through the cupboards looking for something to give the kids. Lynette had asked him to go to the grocery store yesterday, but he'd forgotten. Liz scanned the day's paper and drank wine. The fruity aroma singed his nostrils and put more unwanted thoughts into his head.

Gray sat as far from her as he could and looked on as Ryan and Isaiah had Dad absorbed in photos of Africa. Zebras, giraffes, elephants, the village where they lived . . . Gray tried to pay attention, but his eyes kept moving toward the two towheads on David's lap.

Brandon and Bethie clamored over their father, vying for his attention. He hadn't stopped cuddling them since they'd arrived. And if the kiss between him and Josslyn that Gray happened to walk in on was any indication, things were definitely better between them.

Gray's heart twisted again. The twins were about a year younger than Tess. Her cousins. Their thick blond hair and big blue eyes reminded him of her big time. Forced him to acknowledge all he'd missed out on. He wouldn't swear to it, but he thought they might share the same grin.

Not that he would know.

The moment Victoria had tearfully told him she was pregnant, he'd mentally disconnected. Told her he didn't want any part of it. He wasn't ready to be a father and never would be. He'd seen his daughter once, the day after she was born, in the hospital, before he'd left on a six-month tour.

Much to his surprise, Tori joined him a month later, still messed up and under the misguided impression that they actually had a future. He'd made it clear where he stood.

If he couldn't love his daughter, he certainly couldn't love her mother.

The lie had been good, served its purpose, but it was one he no longer believed.

“Gray?” David was staring at him a little warily. “You okay, man?”

“Sure.” Gray cleared his throat and studied the scratched tabletop. Noticed his hands shaking.

They all noticed.

Liz scooted out of her seat and filled a glass with water. She patted his shoulder as she handed it to him. “It's been a rough day, huh?”

“Yeah.” His throat was so jammed with emotion it was difficult to talk. Liz removed her glass of wine and shot him a look of apology.

Ryan put a hand on his arm and gave him a smile that didn't need words.

“Is spaghetti okay for dinner?” Josslyn asked. “There doesn't appear to be much else.”

“Sure, why not.” It was all they seemed to eat around here. “Just don't put garlic in it,” Gray muttered, his eyes starting to burn. He pushed out of his seat. “I gotta get some air.”

Gray sat on an old weathered bench on the back patio and tossed his phone between his hands. He should call Nick, but he
didn't know what to say. And he was in New York anyway, busy with his father. The last thing Coop needed right now was more to worry about.

The only person he really wanted to talk to had made it perfectly clear that she didn't want to talk to him.

“Gray?” Ryan stepped outside. “Everything all right?”

Gray shrugged and put down the phone.

Ryan wandered across the patio and glanced toward the tennis court. “The place is a mess.”

“No kidding. None of us had any idea things were this bad. I don't know how Lynnie coped this long.” Gray stretched his legs out and accepted the guilt. “I can't stand to think about what she went through all this time, trying to deal with Pops on top of it.”

“I didn't go overboard to keep in touch either.” His brother backed up and perched on the wall opposite him. He played with a thin leather band around his wrist, his eyes fixed on Gray. “I had a feeling something was wrong awhile back. Her letters changed. She seemed almost too happy. It was weird. And then she stopped writing. I would have come sooner, but it took ages to get all the paperwork done for Isaiah's passport.”