The Things We Knew (31 page)

“And?”

Sweet laughter infiltrated the darkest parts of his soul and he fell in love all over again.

“I love you too, Gray. Although most days I don't have the slightest idea why.”

“Give me a second chance and I'll help you figure it out.”

She laughed again. “I'll think about that. Call me in a couple of days.”

They hung up, and for the first time in a long time, even despite the turmoil of the day, Gray felt completely at peace.

L
ynette walked through the house early Sunday evening, the dogs at her heels, glad to be home. Tyler and his little sister had worn her out this afternoon. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed, but she probably needed to make dinner. And feed the dogs. Liz didn't know her way around the kitchen, and if she left it to Gray or David, they'd be having peanut butter on toast.

And sooner or later, there would be questions. Because by now, Liz would have gone into Mom's room and discovered her secret. Lynette had been waiting all week for her sister to say something, but she'd been strangely quiet.

The noise reached her first. Children's voices. She shook her head. Lack of sleep was getting to her. She entered the kitchen, blinked a couple of times at the number of people in the room, then let out a shriek as Ryan stepped toward her and swept her into a bear hug.

“You're back!” Lynette gripped his shoulders and stared, just to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Time had treated him well. He was tanned, fit, and healthy, but sadness stood in his eyes. They must have told him about Dad. She sighed and gave him another hug. “I'm so glad you're home.”

Her brother introduced her to Isaiah, and then she turned her attention to David's family. She hugged Josslyn and the kids, loving the cheeky grins on their little faces. The last time she'd seen
them, they'd just learned to walk. Now they were talking up a storm and charming her with wide smiles and eyes full of mischief. David was beaming, no sign of the strain on his face she'd grown accustomed to of late.

“You look great, Lynnie. What's it been, a year or something? You really need to come over and visit us more often.” Josslyn bustled around, already right at home.

Lynette hadn't spent much time with her sister-in-law; it would be nice to get to know her better. “I will. Just . . . things have been busy around here.”

She wanted to be happy—the whole family here together under one roof. That hadn't happened since . . . the year Mom died. Her chest tightened again and she pressed back sudden tears.

If only she could throw off the darkness shadowing her.

“Come, sit.” Ryan ushered her to the banquet and she squeezed in beside Isaiah and Dad. Josslyn had dinner under control. David set the table in the dining room; even Liz helped by throwing together a salad. Gray fed the dogs.

Lynette offered to help, but nobody would hear of it. So she sat and listened to Isaiah's recounting of his long plane journey that brought him to the place he'd dreamed of since he was a little boy. America.

Later, Gray caught her eye across the dining room table as Ryan said the blessing. She tried to smile, but tears flooded her eyes, exhaustion winning. After dinner Josslyn took the twins and Isaiah upstairs to bathe and get ready for bed. Lynette got Dad settled, then she went back to the kitchen to help clean up.

Gray kept glancing her way, like he wanted to say something, dropping things and making strange noises in his throat.

“Gray, what's wrong with you?” His eyes were clear, but she didn't like the way his hands shook when he reached for the next plate to dry.

He stopped what he was doing and faced her. “Nothing.”

“Well, you're acting weirder than normal,” she muttered, then yanked the plug from the sink and watched water swirl down the drain.

“Coffee's ready.” Liz sent Gray an exasperated look Lynette didn't understand.

“Come on, Lynnie, let's go sit down.” David took her arm and led her out to the patio, despite her protests. She had to work tomorrow. All she wanted to do was go upstairs and try to get some sleep. But apparently her siblings had other ideas.

If they'd changed their minds about the house . . .

Lynette refused coffee, pushed aside fear, and faced them down. “If this is about the house, I thought we'd decided. Just because Ryan's back, that doesn't give you the right to pull the rug out from under me!” She hardly recognized the shrill voice that shot from her. Her brothers and Liz stared at her in clear surprise.

David spoke first. “It's not about the house, Shortstop.”

Gray stared across the lawn. Ryan sat quietly beside her, his presence a comfort. Liz tapped her shoes on the floor in fast rhythm.

Lynette met Liz's eyes and knew. “You want to talk to me about Mom's room.”

Liz nodded, silently studying her as though she half expected her to start speaking in some foreign tongue.

Ryan took Lynette's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Did you put Mom's room back together like that, Lynnie?”

“I did.” She could hardly get the words out. She wished Nick were here. He didn't think she was crazy. But he was still in New York.

“Can you tell us why?”

She took a moment to steady her breathing, collect her scattered thoughts, and finally faced her family. “I did it because I thought it would help. I can't remember what happened that day, the day Mom died. For years I tried not to think about it, told myself it didn't matter. But the past few months, I've been having
these dreams. I know it sounds crazy, but it's like Mom is trying to tell me something. And I just have this weird feeling that it's about what really happened that day.”

David drew in a shaky breath, his eyes misty. “So you put the room back together thinking it would jog your memory?”

“I hoped it would.” She tried to smile, almost laughed at herself. “The boxes were all there, in her closet. At first I thought the idea was nuts, and it scared me that I was even considering it. But then, once I started, in a way it was like getting part of Mom back.” She did laugh then. “I know how it looks. That's why I locked the room. I figured if Cecily went in there, saw it all put back together, she'd think I'd gone off the deep end. But it helped me. I'd go in there some evenings and just remember her, remember how things were, how much fun we all had together. But then the dreams started and I got scared, so I stopped.”

“Can you tell us about the dreams?” Ryan asked, his soft voice stirring more emotion. Lynette nodded and slowly recounted as much as she could.

“So what exactly
do
you remember about the day, Lynnie?” Liz sat forward, intent on drawing blood from a stone.

“I've told you. Nothing really.” Lynette rubbed her face and sighed. “I remember the bad storm. Lightning. Thunder. That's it. Something about stairs. A staircase. I don't know. The only thing I vaguely remember . . . is being in a closet.”

“You were hiding in Mom's closet,” David said. “That's where I found you.”

Liz cleared her throat. “When you put all Mom's stuff back, did you see a book? A small, brown journal?”

Lynette stared at Liz and shook her head. “I don't think so. I just put stuff back where I thought it might have been. I didn't really go through it. Why?”

“So you don't remember anything about Mom and—”

“You know what, Liz?” Gray got to his feet too quickly. “I don't
think it matters. Does it, Shortstop? I mean, whether you know what happened or not, it's not going to bring Mom back, right? Maybe it's better that you don't remember anything.”

“Maybe.” Lynette wanted to agree. Wanted to keep the past at bay, silent and locked away, where the things she knew couldn't hurt her.

But the last few days her memories had started to take on a life of their own, grown stronger, more insistent. What she'd remembered most recently disturbed her deeply. She'd gone somewhere with her mother, couldn't remember why or where, but she did remember feeling angry. Betrayed.

You can talk yourself into anything, Lynette. You have the most vivid imagination, and one of these days it's going to get you into trouble.” Mom was really mad. Her voice shook and her eyes glowed with angry tears.

Lynette folded her arms, looked out the window, and watched the rain. Thunder rolled in the distance. Her heart hammered against her chest and she was starting to have trouble breathing. That would just make Mom angrier. She hated it when Lynette's asthma attacked. Said it scared her too much, made her feel helpless. “I'm not making it up. I know what I heard. I'm going to tell Dad.”

“No!” Mom shrieked and marched across her bedroom, grabbed Lynette's arm, and forced her to turn around. “Don't you dare, young lady! I'm warning you—”

“Why, Mom?” She pulled air into her lungs and let out a small cry. “Why did you have to go out there today? Why was Nick's dad so mad at you?”

“He wasn't, honey.” Mom didn't sound convinced and she quickly looked away. Then she took a deep breath, put her hands around Lynette's face, and kissed her forehead. “Please, sweetheart, believe me. It was nothing. Nothing at all for you to worry about. I promise.”

Lynette shook her head, unable to stop her tears. Gray stared at her, his forehead creasing.

“What, Lynnie?”

“I . . .” She put a hand over her mouth, inhaled, and stared at her brother. “Mom lied, Gray,” she whispered. “I think she lied to all of us.”

“What does that mean?” Liz's tone grew more insistent, and Lynette shrank against Ryan, trembling a little.

“I don't know. I wish I did, but I don't.”

“It's okay. That's enough for tonight.” Her brother put an arm around her and held tight.

“But—” Liz began to sputter.

“It doesn't matter, Liz,” Ryan said sharply. “Let's just drop it, okay?”

“Drop it?” Liz's eyes flared. “But she hasn't told us anything!”

“There isn't anything more to tell.” Lynette shook Ryan off and got to her feet. “If you're done with your interrogation, I'm going to bed.” She swept her gaze over them and fought the terror that tried to drag her down.

Gray was right. It was better to leave the past untouched.

Because if they knew, if what she thought she knew was really true, they'd never get over it.

G
ray stood in the middle of the pool, knee-deep in muck, and watched Liz march across the back lawn toward him, arms swinging.

He'd kept busy the last week, since they'd talked to Lynnie, still kicking himself over that conversation. He hated that she'd gotten so upset. That was the last thing he'd wanted. He tried not to think about what she might be hiding from them. After her outburst on the patio Sunday night, they decided the best course of action, for the moment anyway, was to let her be.

But her behavior since then worried him. She'd retreated into a silent presence, coming and going without saying much. It was unnerving. Reminded him way too much of the days after Mom's death. And what was that about Mom lying to them? Did she know about the affair after all?

He fished out another pile of rotten leaves and dumped them onto the huge collection near Liz's feet.

“Hey, watch it!” She skipped back and shook a stray leaf off her shoe. “Gross, that stinks. You know this is going to take you forever. We should just hire somebody to clean it out.”

“I'm used to dealing with crap.” Gray shot her a grin and wiped sweat off his brow. The sun beat down on his bare back and reminded him he hadn't thought about sunscreen that morning.

“You're burning.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He slopped through the sludge to the shallow end and hopped out. Kicked out of his rubber boots and peeled off the heavy-duty gloves, tossing them to the grass. “You didn't bring me a drink? I'm dying out here.”

“You just said you were fine.”

“Never mind. What's up?”

Liz lifted her Gucci sunglasses and stared at him with a quizzical expression. “Did you know Lynnie has been painting?”

Gray rubbed his nose. There was a bit of water left in the bottle he'd brought out earlier and he downed the warm liquid. It tasted like plastic. He shuddered and spat onto the pile of decaying dross. “Painting what? The living room?”

“Gray.” Liz pursed her lips. “Painting like Dad, you idiot. Except she's better than Dad.”

“Nobody's better than Dad.” Gray reached for a towel and rubbed his face. “Pops was a genius. You know if we could talk her into selling his stuff we'd probably make a fortune.”

“You're not listening to me.” Liz smoothed back her hair and stepped closer. “I saw her putting some paintings into the car yesterday morning. At first I thought that's exactly what she was doing—selling Dad's stuff. But she left the studio unlocked. I think she's selling her own paintings. You should see them.”

“Get out.” Disbelief tried to win him over, but an old memory tapped him on the shoulder. Lynnie, winning prizes at school. Entering her artwork in competitions. Mom telling them her baby girl would be famous one day, just like their father. “Okay. This I gotta see.”

Gray sat on the beach later that Friday and watched Lynnie and Josslyn build a sandcastle with the twins and Isaiah. Lynnie had taken the afternoon off, to spend time with the family, she'd said.
They were all tiptoeing around her like one wrong word would cause her to break into a million pieces.

He'd seen her stuff. Liz was right. She was good. Really good.

So why was she hiding it? Or if Liz's suspicions were correct and she was selling her work, why not tell them?

Gray frowned under the sun's glare. Poor Lynnie. She'd do anything for anyone, anytime, no questions asked. It wasn't fair that she should be the one to carry so much pain.

“Land ho, Grayson!” Dad sauntered past, Ryan at his side, David on the other. He pointed up to the house with a wide flourish. “Did I ever tell you boys I was once a pirate?”

His heart squeezed at Ryan's good-natured laugh. They all shared a smile and kept Pops moving. Gray lay back and closed his eyes. He couldn't envision the future without Pops. As much as they'd butted heads, Gray loved his father. He hadn't respected him all that much in later years, when the drinking got bad, but now he knew the power of addiction firsthand. He wished his dad could know Gray was trying, doing his best to break the cycle.

But maybe in his way, someplace in the depths of his confusion, Pops did.

Gray held on to the thought and found comfort in it.

His cell buzzed and he groaned, found it in his shorts pocket, and held it to his ear. “You are disturbing the peace. This better be good.” Nick's laugh made Gray sit up in a hurry. “Cooper! Finally. Where the heck are you, man?”

“Still in New York. Last meeting this afternoon. Why do you keep calling me?”

“Have you talked to Lynnie?” Gray dug his toes in the warm sand and watched the waves.

“I spoke to her this morning. Why?”

“How did she sound to you?”

Nick laughed again. “Real good.”

“Shut up, Coop.” Gray groaned. “She didn't sound weird or say anything was wrong?”

“No. She sounded fine.”

“I don't think she is.” Gray shifted so he could see his sister. “There's some stuff going on, man. She won't really talk to any of us, long story. I figured maybe she'd talked to you. Has she said anything about, uh . . .” He didn't even know where to begin.

“About what? What's going on over there?” Now Nick sounded worried.

Gray picked up a handful of sand and let it trail through his fingers. Maybe the fewer people freaking out right now, the better. “Forget it. Just get in touch once you're home.”

“Gray—”

“No, man, forget I said anything. We'll talk when you get back.”

“Well, okay. I'll be back as soon as I can,” Nick said. “Tonight, hopefully, but it might be late. I'll come by tomorrow.”

“Actually, I'm headed to Jersey tomorrow.” The thought sent his pulse racing. Tomorrow he was going to meet his daughter.

“Serious? That's awesome, dude.”

“Yeah, it is kind of.” Tori said Tess hadn't stopped talking about him since their phone conversation, and that if he really wanted them in his life, he'd better come meet Tess.

“I'll call Lynnie again later,” Nick promised. “Stay cool, bro. Have a great time.”

“Will do. Keep me posted from this end.” Gray clicked off and tried to ignore the churning in his gut as he watched Lynnie wander away from Josslyn and the children, down the beach alone.

Nick breathed a sigh of relief as the board meeting ended and he pushed his chair back. Men and women filtered past him, some stopping to say a few words.

He waited until he was out in the hall to check his messages. Nothing more from Gray. Lynnie assured him everything was okay, so he wasn't sure what Gray was worried about. Probably nervous about his visit to see Tori and Tess.

“Nicholas.” His father caught up too quickly. “Everything all right?”

“Fine.” Nick nodded to Maurice as he passed, but was unable to produce a smile. Truth be told, he was still pretty angry with Mindy for trying to pin her pregnancy on him. But she'd apologized, too many times, and from the sounds of it, she'd managed to convince her father that Horse wasn't such a bad guy. The wedding she really wanted wouldn't be so out of reach after all. He had to hand it to her, Miranda Vanguard always landed on her feet.

Evy McIntyre had called him three times, which was weird. She usually e-mailed when new paintings were in.

His father clapped him on the shoulder. “Good job in there. You did your homework. I was impressed.”

“Uh-huh.” Nick scanned his messages, his pulse picking up.

“You want to grab an early dinner before you head home?”

“What?” Nick wasn't sure he'd heard right. “With you?”

Dad frowned, then a rare smile lifted his lips. “Is the idea so aberrant?”

“Uh. Actually, yes.” Nick grinned and put his phone away. “But okay. As long as you're paying.”

Later, Nick settled into the backseat of a cab that smelled like sardines and called Evy back.

“Well, it's about time.”

“I was in meetings.”

“Are you on the island?” She lacked her usual cheery tone.

Nick cranked the window down as the car stopped in traffic. “No, I'm in New York. Headed back to Nantucket now.”

“Good. Come and see me when you get in, Nicholas.”

“It might be late. I'll come by tomorrow.”

“No. Tonight. It's urgent.”

Nick sighed and leaned against the seat. Sweat slid down his back and he ripped off his tie. “Okay. Do you mind telling me what this is about?”

“I'll tell you when you get here. See you soon.” She clicked off and left him listening to the Soca music coming from the cab's radio.

Nick arrived home a little before nine that night, changed, and headed into town. He let his gaze veer as he drove past Wyldewood. He'd see Lynnie tomorrow. It was too late now; she'd said she was going to try to get to bed early. When he arrived at the gallery, he found the door open, Evy waiting for him.

“Hello, dear. Good flight?” She greeted him like an old friend, which Nick supposed by now was appropriate.

“A little rough. They said we've got some nasty weather coming.”

New paintings hung on the walls. He walked across the room to check them out. Verity's, but not quite as good as the last he'd bought. They were happy scenes. Christmas in Nantucket, the houses decorated with red ribbon and garland, a light snow falling as a horse and carriage making its way down the cobblestones of Main Street. The other, another beach scene, similar to the ones she'd done before. Both pieces lacked the passion and mysterious feel that drew him to her paintings in the first place.

“Nicholas.”

The way Evy spoke his name made him turn in a hurry. She crooked a finger and headed for the back of the gallery, but not without locking the front door first.

“What's going on?”

Evy led him into a long storage room and backed up against
a table. She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. “I probably should have done this awhile ago.”

“Okay.” Nick wondered at her stricken expression.

“It's about Lynette.”

“Lynette Carlisle?” Things were getting stranger by the second. “Do you know Lynnie?”

“Yes.” Evy nodded and cleared her throat. “Have you talked to her recently?”

“Sure. Why?”

“How does she sound to you?”

“Uh.” Why was everyone asking him that? Nick rubbed his jaw and shrugged. “Fine, I guess.” He had no idea the extent of Evy's relationship with her, so wouldn't share Gray's thoughts.

Evy shook her head. “Those paintings you've been buying? They're hers.”

“What?” Nick reeled and gripped the nearest chair. It took him a minute to process the information. “Lynnie is Verity?”

“I'm afraid so.” Evy twisted her hands together, her face creased with concern.

Nick leaned forward. “Start talking, Evy.”

Evy sighed and nodded. “I met her last year at a friend's house. We hit it off, and eventually she showed me her work. I had an awful time convincing her to start selling it. She didn't want to call attention to herself. Didn't want to ride on her father's coattails, yada, yada.”