When I'm Gone: A Novel (20 page)

Luke stared at the ground and mumbled, “Yes, sir.” Then he ran, up Route 31, past the Chamber of Commerce, past Andy’s dad’s real estate office and the toy shop, past the House of Flavors and the post office. As he turned left on Lowell Street, he could feel a warm trail of blood pulsing out of the cut on his face, down his neck, and pooling around his collarbone.

He didn’t slow down until the grass turned to sand and he could make out the concrete barricades that surrounded the Pentwater River. He slowed to a walk, ignoring the sand that filled his tennis shoes, making them feel like weights on his feet. A few families were sprawled out on the beach under umbrellas; one toddler in a swollen diaper poured buckets of sand over his father’s feet, burying them only for a second before his father wiggled his toes and undid the little boy’s work. Luke picked up his pace a little, trying to escape the happy giggles of the child as much as the expected wrath of his father.

There was an abandoned house about half a mile off the public beach that had a set of stairs nearly two hundred yards long. Luke liked to climb to the top and look out over the curve of the beach, watching the birds hunt for their dinner and the boats bounce in the waves. He’d watched the sun set countless times while sitting on those steps, hiding from his drunk father or crying mother, but always leaving before it got too dark for him to find his way home. But that night he didn’t leave. When the sunset and the world turned black and cold, Luke curled up on the knobby wooden step, turning into himself, wondering if he could ever go home.

He did finally go home, but not until Officer Granson woke him with his flashlight and announced, “Found the kid,” into his walkie-talkie. Apparently the whole town had been out looking for him after Alex fired his father and called the police to report the incident at the marina. The officer took him to the hospital twenty miles north in Ludington. Two stitches later, he was released into his mother’s arms. A social worker was assigned to his family and visited monthly for the next two years. His father never laid a hand on him again.

“Is this it?” Annie asked, breaking the silence while pointing to a gray one-story house on the left side of Winter Lane. Twenty-two years ago he’d walked out that door and swore he’d never ever walk back in, and he hadn’t. He barely let himself think about what happened inside those walls, much less revisit them in person. Back then it was a white ranch, with red shutters and a peeling roof. It was a symbol of all he’d lost when he was forced to move away that hot July day.

Today, the house looked completely innocuous. The previous owners had the house re-sided in gray. By now it had probably been re-sided several times. The roof was new as well, white shutters framed the front windows, and a small addition jutted out to the right side of the house, where the ash tree used to be. That tree used to drop massive amounts of leaves on the house each fall, so Luke could see why they’d nixed it. The biggest difference was the green lawn and the large white and green
F
OR
S
ALE
sign in the front yard, with
G
ARNER
R
EALTY
written in bold white letters.

To the right of Luke’s childhood home, where Natalie’s house used to sit, there was now a giant McMansion. Tearing down the old cottage-style homes and replacing them with modern palaces was a popular practice when the area’s tourist traffic increased in the early 2000s.

Annie glanced between the two houses, resting her eyes on Luke’s old home.

“This is a pretty little house. I wonder if people live here year-round or if this is a summer place.”

“I don’t know about now.” Luke shook his head, putting the car in park across the street from his house. “This was a family neighborhood when I lived here.”

“Why did you pick it?” Annie had made the call to Garner Realty to set up the appointment, but only after Luke sent her the listing for the house on Winter Lane. He was surprised to find it mixed in with all the vacation homes and empty land. It was the perfect location for this conversation to happen.

“I knew the people who used to live here.” Luke couldn’t stop staring at the house, noting all the changes. Maybe he was like that house, so changed that all those bad things from years ago didn’t matter anymore. Though he was fairly certain he was more like Natalie’s old house, a teardown that needed to be built again. “I don’t know; I thought it might be nice to be somewhere a little familiar.”

Annie ran a hand through her hair and slipped back on the black flats she’d taken off a few minutes into their trip. She was dressed up in a black pantsuit with a dark-blue silk blouse that matched the water in Lake Michigan. Twisting, she grabbed her purse from the backseat, slipped it over her shoulder, and pulled out a tube of lip gloss.

“So, do you think that’s his car?” she asked, brushing the tip of the applicator across her bottom lip, squinting at the silver Mercedes parked in the driveway.

“I think so.” Andy’s grunge days were clearly over. “Our appointment was for ten minutes ago. I’m sure he’s wondering where we are.”

Annie mashed her lips together, tossed the lip gloss back in her bag, and stared at the side of Luke’s face. “You never answered me earlier. Are you ready for this?”

Ready? No. He was not ready for any of this. But the more he’d considered Annie’s crazy plan, the more he knew it had to happen.

“Yup.” With a flick of his wrist Luke turned off the car and pulled the keys out of the ignition. He turned to face Annie. Her eyebrows were bunched up, cheeks flushed with nervous excitement. Luke let himself give one last smile before giving the go. “Thank you. I would never have done this without you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Meet me inside in five minutes, okay?”

“Okay.” He nodded. This was the plan. She’d go inside and get Andy comfortable, and then Luke would come in a few minutes later to take him off guard. “Good luck.”

She readjusted her purse strap and rubbed her glossy lips together one more time. “Good luck,” she said in return before jumping out the door and rushing across the street. He watched her knock on the door, the realtor lockbox hanging from the knob. A shadowy figure opened the door, and once Annie slipped inside, Luke let out a breath. No turning back now.

CHAPTER 20

Luke watched the glowing green numbers on his dashboard clock tick by. He attempted to distract himself with his phone, flicking through the videos and messages Will had sent during the past two weeks. Only two weeks, and Luke already missed the kids so badly he was tempted daily to catch the next plane to Florida so he could kiss them good night. Eventually he always remembered that visiting the kids meant visiting Terry too. After their exchange at the airport, he definitely wasn’t ready for that.

The numbers finally clicked over to ten fifteen. He swung open the car door without even checking to see if any cars were coming up from behind him. The front path was still made of cement; a crack or two had been patched with darker cement than the original. He hopped over the cracks in between the slabs of cement, remembering the game he used to play as a kid. It was an unexpected happy memory from this house, a welcome change.

When he finally reached the glossy navy-blue door, Luke raised his hand to knock. Then he noticed the knocker. It was golden but covered with dark-bronze splotches where the gilding had peeled off. He knew that knocker. He knew that door. Nobody had taken the time to change either fixture. This was his house, and he’d be damned if he was going to knock. Turning the knob slowly, he pushed his body through the smallest crack he could fit in and shut the door behind him noiselessly.

The front room was dark, but he could make out the curve of carpet where it met the tile entryway. The house smelled of onions and potpourri, not at all familiar, and the carpet was a fluffy shag instead of the tight Berber of his childhood. But the ceiling fan was the same, the lights covered in those frosted-glass cuplike fixtures. Annie’s feminine laugh floated out from the kitchen, and the deep rumble of a male voice followed it. Luke pulled his eyes away from the fan and followed the voices, his feet sinking into the unfamiliar carpet, his pulse beating in his ears.

The kitchen was on the other side of the living room. To get there, Luke had to pass the hallway leading to the bedrooms. The last time he was in that hall, it was covered with blood. Logically he knew it wasn’t still there, but he still averted his eyes as he passed by. His feet were heavy, as though they were trying to tell Luke to turn around and go back. Then he heard Andy’s voice, and the world turned still around him.

“This house is great for a family. It’s been totally redone, inside and out. New plumbing five years ago, new carpet very recently, and the appliances are all still under warranty.”

“Wow, did you know the previous owners?” Annie asked, sounding distracted, probably wondering what was taking Luke so long.

“It’s a small town, so we all know each other pretty well, but lately we’ve had a lot of out-of-towners redoing houses and renting them out during the summer. I grew up in this town, so I did know the family who lived in this house before it became a rental cottage. Went to school with their kid.”

“You did?” Annie sounded actually interested, even though she didn’t know this used to be Luke’s house.

“Oh, yeah.” His voice deepened like he was going to share a secret. “It’s a very sad story. The father was an alcoholic, used to beat the mom and the kid. One day, when the mom was pregnant, the dad came home blasted and . . .”

No. Luke refused to listen to Andy Garner tell this story. His feet woke up again and let him walk the last three steps into the kitchen. As he rounded the corner, Annie was leaning back against the white laminate counter. Andy Garner stood in the middle of the gray-tile floor, tan dress slacks with a belt, tailored blue shirt tucked in neatly. He definitely hadn’t grown since their last meeting, still a head shorter than Luke. Every other thing about him had changed: his hair, what was left of it, was neatly trimmed, his clothes actually fit, and his midsection was thick, with twenty extra pounds.

“Hey, honey,” Annie said in a singsong voice, “you made it.” She stood straight and waved Luke over. That’s when Andy Garner turned around with his hand extended, ready for a shake. It only took two steps before he stopped in his tracks.

“Luke? Luke Richardson? Hey there! What the heck are you doing here?” He seemed happy to see him. “You want to buy your old house? I thought you hated this place!”

“Maybe I want to buy it so I can tear it down,” Luke quipped, an unexpected flash of anger escaping from deep within. Annie pushed off the counter, standing at attention.

“This is your house?” she asked quietly, like she was confused that he hadn’t told her this information earlier. Andy glanced back at Annie and back at Luke.

“Wait, you got married again?” he asked. It sounded more like an accusation than a question. He could hear the word Andy had left out of that sentence. “You got married again . . .
already
?”

“No.” Forget the plan. There was no way Luke was going to let Andy Garner act as the morality police. “She’s just a friend.” Andy snuck a quick look at Annie, who was standing erect, arms crossed tightly, face completely white.

“When she called,” he tipped his head in Annie’s direction, “she said she was your wife. Said your name was Charlie Fairbanks. What the hell is going on here, Luke?”

Andy’s voice surged, all friendly curiosity gone. Luke instinctively took his hands out of his pockets, ready for a fight. He’d never hit a man before, but he wasn’t about to let Andy Garner get one in without any warning, especially not in this house. No one was going to hit him in this house ever again.

“I needed to talk to you,” Luke said simply.

“And calling my office didn’t seem like an option?” Andy’s signature sarcasm leaked through his professional exterior. For a moment Luke could see him like he had on the quad—oily hair, baggy clothes, steely brown eyes.

“This conversation needed to happen in person.” Luke paused to gauge his response, but Andy’s face was hard and mocking. No sign he knew what was coming. “Tell me about Maranatha House, Andy.”

After the words left his mouth, it took a few seconds for them to register with Andy. But when they did, Luke could see the impact. Andy let out a deep sigh and shrunk at least three inches, like one of those Thanksgiving parade balloons deflating.

“Natalie promised me she’d never tell,” Andy said, using up his last bit of oxygen. He took another breath; this one stuttered as it went in. He placed a hand over his eyes. “My wife doesn’t even know.” His voice was thick with emotion now. He looked up, panic in his eyes. “You aren’t going to tell her, are you?”

Luke’s mouth was completely dry. So, it was true. How could it be true? Every time his mind took him to this moment, the moment when he found out Will was not Natalie’s first child and that his wife had been lying to him his whole marriage, he’d talk himself out of it.

He’d remind himself that Natalie hated dishonesty. Once, when they were kids, she’d gotten two gumballs out of the vending machine at the IGA, so she went to the counter and gave them an extra quarter. The owner was so impressed he’d put a picture of her behind the help desk with the words “Most Honest Customer” underneath. She’d never had a speeding ticket, cheated on a test, or snuck candy into a movie theater. How the hell did she keep this a secret?

Annie cleared her throat, still standing by the sink. Forming words became difficult through the red haze of anger creeping in around Luke’s vision.

“Luke,” she whispered, “you okay?”

He ignored Annie, narrowing in on Andy, who was standing in the middle of the room with his hands still over his mouth. He took a deliberate step toward the ever-shrinking man.

“Maybe we should tell her,” Luke growled through gritted teeth.

“Luke”—Annie’s voice was full of caution—“you never said anything about talking to his wife.”

Luke curled his hands into fists, over and over, wanting to hit something, someone. He’d spent so much of his life forcing himself to be gentle, kind, to never let anyone flip the switch inside him that might turn him into his father. Now he was close, closer than he’d ever been, to surrendering to the force of a man who still haunted the memories of his childhood, even though he was long in the grave.

“I think she has a right to know.”

Andy begged him, “Please, you can’t.” Luke felt no sympathy.

“Did you hold the baby when it was born? Did you kiss his head? What about my wife? Did you kiss her too?”

“Wait.” Andy yanked at his collar. “I’m lost. This is about Natalie?” Andy began to inflate again, his nose nearly close enough to touch Luke’s shoulder. “Listen, if you’re not interested in the house, I need to ask you to leave or I’ll call the cops.” In a flash Andy had his phone out.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Luke pushed back a sudden urge to slap the phone out of Andy’s hand. “What were you two hiding, Andy?”

Andy jutted his chin out and shook his head slowly. “I can’t believe Natalie married
you
,” he said softly, like he was talking to himself. “I tried to warn her. You’re a total psycho, like your dad.”

Before he was aware of it, a growl started in Luke’s lungs and crawled into his throat. His feet shuffled toward Andy, closing the gap between them. His hands curled into themselves, like he was getting ready for a workout on the bag at home. It’d only take a swift uppercut with his right, jab in the stomach with his left, and if that wasn’t enough, an elbow to Andy’s back as he fell to the ground.

Suddenly Annie was wedged between the two men, one hand on Luke’s chest and the other on Andy’s shoulder. Her touch was gentle but firm, and it brought him back to reality. Luke’s hands fell limp at his side, aching from how hard he’d been squeezing them. He’d almost hit someone. When that thought sunk in, it was heavy, like the sins of his father were suddenly his as well.

“Stop,” Annie said, giving Andy’s shoulder a sharp thrust. “Luke, tell him about the picture. Tell him.”

“What picture? Who
are
you?” he asked, glaring at Annie before taking a large step back, making Annie’s hand fall.

“Like he said, I’m a friend.” She yanked out the brochure peeking out of Luke’s shirt pocket and flipped it open. A polished fingernail pointed at the younger version of Andy, more hair, gigantic smile, and Natalie’s arm hanging around his neck. “Tell us about this, Andy. Tell us about Maranatha House—why you were there with Natalie and why there are pictures of you all over that place.” Annie held the trifold, cream-colored brochure up to Andy’s face, other hand on her hip.

“How did you get that?” Andy asked, flustered.

“Luke’s son found an envelope from Maranatha Adoptions. It was postmarked from around the time he was born. It had Natalie’s name on it.” She listed the facts like accusations. “That led Luke to Maranatha House. Okay. Your turn.”

Andy reached up and took the dangling brochure from her hand and took a step back, staring at the open booklet. He touched the sepia-toned picture, and the corner of his mouth turned up like he was remembering something happy.

“I never had a child with Natalie,” Andy said, still lost in the picture, “but I do have a daughter. Her name is Jill, and she lives in South Carolina with her adoptive parents, Carol and Jim Fletcher. She attends Davidson University. She has black, curly hair like me and light eyes like her mom.”

“What?” Luke blurted, the paralyzing haze of anger lifting a little. Annie seemed to sense it and moved out of his path. “A daughter?”

“Yeah. I met her last year. Natalie helped me find her before she . . .” Andy’s words caught in his throat. “Luke, you know Jill’s birth mom, Nancy Gillingham.” Andy’s bravado was gone. “She sat between us in Mrs. Tillman’s fourth-grade class. I had a huge crush on her. Junior year when she was a cheerleader and I was suddenly cool because I’d learned guitar, we went out for a few months.

“Then she got pregnant, and it felt like the end of my world. But Natalie, she knew what to do. She told me about this place her pastor worked at, this home for unwed mothers, or at least that’s what they used to call it. Nancy lived there till she had the baby. No one knew but me and her parents and Natalie. The other kids thought she was living with her aunt in Indiana. Natalie drove with me to visit her at Maranatha. Every year they have a reunion and fundraiser in June. This year was the first time I’ve ever gone without Nat.”

Andy looked right into Luke’s eyes. “I didn’t know she was lying to you. I’m sorry. Nothing ever, ever happened between us. I mean, I was in love with her, but she never could get over you.” He chuckled like there was something funny about it. “I never really thought you two would make it, but after a while I stopped hoping she’d leave you, and I got on with my life—a pretty damn good one too.”

He refolded the brochure and handed it to Luke, then retrieved a worn black wallet out of his back pocket. Slipping his pointer finger behind a stack of credit cards, Andy pulled out a wallet-size photograph and held it up for Annie and Luke.

“This was her senior picture. Jill sent it to me after she turned eighteen, after Natalie helped me track her down. Nat said she looks a little like a younger version of Minnie Driver.”

Luke took the picture and flipped it over. In feminine handwriting, the name “Jill Fletcher” was written across the back with a phone number. Luke tried to memorize it, still not sure if he should believe Andy, but finding fewer reasons to question his story. The girl looked nothing like Natalie, and until that moment Luke hadn’t realized that fear was lurking in the back of his mind. Luke passed the picture to Annie.

“She’s beautiful. I can definitely tell she’s your daughter.” She handed the picture back to Andy and grabbed her purse, the metal clasp scratching against the countertop.

“We should go.” She sighed, and hooked the strap over her shoulder as she turned to face Andy. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Garner. We’ll get out of your hair now.”

Annie brushed past Andy, who had his hands back in his pockets. Luke stared at the short, balding, thirty-something man he’d wanted to punch in the face only a few minutes earlier. Did he really believe Andy’s story? The part about Natalie helping him was definitely convincing. He could even reason why she’d keep it secret, never one to break promises to friends.