Down By The Water (11 page)

I wondered if he'd let it go this time.

NINETEEN

The front door opened and I craned my neck, expecting to see Ty's mom or dad.

Instead, Jenna walked in. She had showered as promised and changed into a white, tube-top dress that showed off her tan and her tits. She glanced at Ty but didn't try to smile or flirt.

“You see him?” she asked me, her eyes flashing a mixture of hatred and concern.

I knew immediately who she meant. Jorgenson. “Yeah.”

She glanced over her shoulder, shaking her head. “Still a dick.”

“I know.”

She looked at Ty. “He wants to talk to you,” she said. “I was told to come and get you.”

I sighed. “Told you.”

He frowned. “Right now?”

Jenna nodded. “Yeah. He asked me to send you down.”

“Down where?”

“The camp site. That guy with the missing kid. Dave something?”

He touched my arm, then stood. “Alright. I'll be back.”

He walked past Jenna and disappeared out the front door.

Jenna took his place on the couch. “You alright?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

I closed my eyes briefly. “No.”

“What did he say to you?”

“He's been great,” I said, my voice softening. “Really nice.”

“Not Ty,” she snapped. “The asshole octogenarian out there.”

I shook my head. “Oh. Nothing you wouldn't expect.”

“Dick.”

“Yep.”

“He was asking why you were here,” she said. She lifted her thumb nail to her lips. “I heard the sirens. I'd just gotten out of the shower. I wandered down the main road, trying to figure out what was going on. Some woman said a kid was missing or something, but that everything was okay. He stopped me on my way back to the house. Had a shitload of questions. All about you. How long you'd been here, where you were going to school, shit about your car. Everything.”

I grabbed the pillow behind me and laid it in my lap. “I'm not surprised.”

“Well, I'm pretty sure he knows I think he's a dick.”

“How?”

She grinned at me. “I said 'You're a dick.'”

Despite the drama and the direness of the situation, I laughed. “Even he's smart enough to decipher that.”

Jenna shook her head, disgusted. “Just ridiculous. And the girl is okay. They found her. I mean,
you
found her. And she's fine. Not sure why this is such a big, goddamn deal.”

I knew why. Because it was too similar to what had happened to Rosie. Maybe most people thought it was a simple accident but I knew Jorgenson was thinking it was more. Hell, if I'd been him, I probably would've thought the same thing.

“You need to get your car fixed and get the hell out of this place,” Jenna told me.

I felt her eyes on me. “I know.”

“But what?” she demanded.

“But what, what?”

“I don't think you're ready to leave,” she said.

I'd just had to relive the worst day of my entire life. A new set of characters but identical circumstances. And, thankfully, a different outcome. “Why would you say that?”

“Just the way you said it,” she answered. She gathered her hair to one side and played with it as she spoke. “Why wouldn't you want to leave?”

“Of course I want to leave,” I told her.

“You don't sound very convincing.”

I didn't say anything.

“Is it Ty?” she asked.

“No.” But my response was too quick and she knew it.

“Okay.” A knowing smile tugged at her lips. “Then maybe you just want to stay here to fuck with Jorgenson”

“Don't be ridiculous,” I said. “I don't want to fuck with anybody.”

“Then what?”

I wasn't sure I knew what the answer was. Part of it was definitely Ty. I hadn't expected to meet him and I hadn't planned on kissing him. On having him take care of me. On having him demonstrate that he was into me as much as I was into him.

I liked him. A lot.

But part of it was Jorgenson, too. I hated the way he'd looked at me. He'd brought back so many memories that I'd tried to squelch, that I'd tried to eliminate. But all it took was one look from him and I felt like a kid again, like I'd once again failed everyone. It was like I was ten years old again and everyone looking at me like I was a criminal.

“Did you think I did it?” I finally asked Jenna.

She'd been staring out into the hallway and brought her eyes back to me. “What?”

“Rosie,” I said. I swallowed hard. It was a question I'd never asked, mostly because I didn't want to know the answer. But, now, with everything that had just happened? I had to ask it, had to know. “Did you think I did it?”

She scowled. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

“Mom did,” I pointed out. “I think she still wonders.”

“Yeah, well, Mom's fucking insane.”

I didn't say anything. I'd never forgotten the day Jorgenson had come to visit, how she'd looked at me with the same accusation in her eyes as he'd had in his. It had always stayed with me. After that day, she'd never been the same to me. There was always a distance, a coldness. As I'd gotten older, it had manifested into anger and bitterness and I couldn't do anything right. And I'd responded with my own anger, doing things to piss her off and fighting with her at every opportunity. Our relationship had deteriorated to nearly nothing.

“But she thought I did,” I said. “I know she did. Just like Jorgenson.”

Jenna shifted on the couch. “Maybe. I don't know. Mom...she's just all fucked up.”

“So, did you?” I asked again.

She brought her feet on to the sofa cushion, bringing her knees to her chest. “No.”

“Not ever?”

She shook her head emphatically. “Not ever.”

“Why not?”

“Come on, Lily.”

“I'm serious. Why not?”

She sighed loudly. “I don't know. Because you're my sister. Because Rosie was our sister. Because I know you wouldn't do that. Didn't do that. I don't care what anyone else thinks. Not Mom or Jorgenson or anyone else.”

I nodded, wanting to believe her. “What about Dad? You think he ever believed it?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No way. Not Dad. You were his fucking golden child. Still are.” She paused. “I mean, he was the one who told Jorgenson to fuck off, right?”

I nodded. He was. And after that day, he'd gone out of his way to make sure I knew he believed me. He was affectionate, always hugging me, kissing me on top of the head. I was pretty sure that was what had led to him divorcing my mom. But I'd always wondered if he hadn't at some point wondered if I'd done it. I wouldn't have blamed him. The way Jorgenson made it sound, it was like they'd found my fingerprints on Rosie's back. So years later, I could understand why people might've taken a moment and wondered, even if it couldn't have been further from the truth.

“So it's Jorgenson, isn't it?” Jenna said.

“What's Jorgenson?”

She stood, straightening the skirt of her dress. “You want to stick it up his ass and prove to him that you never did anything.”

I stayed quiet. I would never admit it out loud but there was a small part of me that wanted to find a way to redeem myself, to clear my name once and for all, even if Jorgenson was the only one who thought I'd done something to my sister. The accusations hadn't traveled outside of our family—he'd never pursued anything legally—but I'd just shared the story with someone else, someone whom I cared what they about me.

Ty.

“I'm not sure you can do that,” Jenna said. “I'm not sure you have anything to prove to anyone.”

I stared at the living room wall, wondering what the sheriff was asking Ty, wondering if he's started asking other people about me.

“You didn't do it,” Jenna said. “You don't have anything to prove to him or anyone else.”

I knew she was saying those things to make me feel better and I appreciated it. Coming from Jenna, they meant something. We'd never had a close relationship and having her step up to bat for me was something I'd never expected.

But there was one problem.

I didn't agree with her.

TWENTY

I didn't have to talk to Sheriff Jorgenson right away. Sheila approached me and Jenna in the living room, a cordless phone in her hand. Her silvery hair had fallen completely out of its standard sloppy bun, and she pushed at it with her hands as she handed me the phone. She looked frazzled and I wondered just how much she knew about the events of the morning.

“For me?” I asked, confused.

She nodded. “It's Sven. He said he tried calling your cell but there was no answer.”

Shit. My phone. And my car. I'd completely forgotten in the chaos of the morning.

I spoke into the receiver. “This is Lily.”

“This is the hardest woman in Pelican Lake to find?” a deep voice responded.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't have my phone with me. We...we were outside.” It sounded ridiculously lame but I didn't want to go into the details of how I'd spent my morning.

“You should hold on to your phone,” he said. “If you want news about your car.”

I tried to stem the irritation I was feeling. I didn't need a lecture from some random auto mechanic. “Have you had a chance to look at it?”

“Yeah.” He paused. “Transmission is shot.”

“What?”

“Transmission. Gone.”

I didn't know much about cars but I knew that it didn't sound good. “Well, shit,” I said. “Can you fix it?”

“I can fix anything,” he told me. “But it's gonna cost you.”

My heart sank a little. I'd wanted an easy fix. The way Sven was talking, this was not going to be the case with my car.

“Why don't you swing by?” he said. “I need some info from you. We can go over the options.” Before I could say yes or no, there was a click and the line went dead.

“Bad news?” Jenna asked. She'd sat back down on the couch while I was on the phone, waiting. Her finger was once again at her mouth, tapping her lower lip. I looked at the nail. Still pristine. Unchewed.

“The worst.” I stood up and stretched, then tensed up as my feet bore the full force of my weight. They were going to be sore for days.

Jenna noticed. “What's wrong?”

“I cut up my feet a little bit. Looking for Annie.”

The finger made its way into her mouth for a half a second before she pulled it away. “We haven't talked about that.”

I frowned. “What is there to talk about? You want a blow-by-blow of how I found her?” I knew my sister. She didn't like to talk about anything that related to Rosie, to the river.

“No.” Her voice was vehement. She held out her hand to stop me. “I just meant...shit. I don't know. Never mind.”

I noticed then that she was in worse shape than I'd thought. She'd been combative, defensive of me, when she'd first come in and gotten Ty. And then after, with the two of us sitting and talking, she'd been rock-solid, her demeanor showing nothing other than irritation with the sheriff. But there was something  there now, something that told me she was more vulnerable than she was letting on. We might not be close but I knew my sister. She could talk a big game, be the biggest bitch there was, but she was hurting. This was all hitting just as close to home for her as it was for me. I looked at her eyes, wet with unshed tears, her brow furrowed, her lips drawn in a thin line, opening only to contemplate chewing her nail. Her hand shook as she brought her finger back to her mouth. This time, she nibbled.

“Hey,” I said, my voice sharp. “I need some help.”

She couldn't hide her surprise. “From me?”

I nodded. She needed something else to think about, something to get her mind off of the near-drowning and Sheriff Jorgenson and the mess I was trying to extricate myself from. I'd never been great in the big sister department but it didn't mean I couldn't start trying now.

“Yeah,” I said. “Can you grab my purse? It's on the dresser upstairs. And then maybe you can run me into town so I can deal with my car.”

She dropped her hand away from her mouth and nodded. Before I could say another word, she lifted herself off the couch and hurried up the stairs.

I balanced against the arm rest, taking my weight off my feet while I waited for her. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I knew my car was only the first of several things I was going to have to deal with.

TWENTY ONE

Jenna pulled the car into the parking lot and managed to park it almost straight. Our drive had been quiet, even the car radio playing at an almost inaudible level. Jenna had stared straight ahead, sunglasses covering her eyes, her mouth in a tight line. I could tell she was still on edge.

“You want me to come in with you?” she asked. But her hand was already in her purse, digging around for a pack of cigarettes. I knew she was jonesing for a smoke.

“No,” I said. I grabbed my own purse and opened the passenger door. “Hopefully, I won't be long.”

I hopped out of the car and pulled open the door to the shop. A string of bells clanked together, jingling loudly. I looked around but the store looked deserted. There was a wall lined with new tires, some of them propped on the floor, some hanging precariously from long hooks mounted to the wall. A row of metal chairs with cracked linoleum seats were lined up against another wall, a coffee table in front of them offering a meager collection of auto magazines. A Culligan water dispenser gurgled in the corner and a white cart sat next to it, an ancient coffee maker with a half-full carafe sitting on top of it.

“Hello?” I said, fully expecting my voice to echo in the vacant store.

A head popped up from behind the counter, a tall, blond guy who didn't look much older than Ty. He wore a Garth Brooks t-shirt and had a gold chain around his neck, a chunky gold cross hanging from it. Hair the color of straw, fair-skinned and blue-eyed, he looked like he could have just deplaned from some Scandinavian country. And gone straight to modeling for Hollister or Abercrombie.

“I'm here to see Sven,” I said, looking around the shop.

He smiled. “That's me.” The deep voice took me by surprise but there was no mistake. He was the guy I'd talked to on the phone. And he was probably the best-looking guy I'd ever been in a room with.

I set my purse on the counter and averted my eyes so I wouldn't be caught staring at him. He wasn't at all my type—at least, I didn't think he was—but that didn't keep me from wanting to just stare at his perfection all day. I kept my eyes on the counter as he took up position behind it. The lower shelf of it—his work space—was littered with scraps of paper. Different colors and sizes, each piece looked like it had been torn from a different notebook or pad of paper. I guessed that organization probably wasn't one of his strong suits.

He shuffled through the bits os paper, his grease-stained fingers rifling through the piles until he located what he was looking for. A blue half-sheet, the left corner missing, a bunch of words and numbers scribbled illegibly across it.

“Alright. Lily.” He looked at me. “Last name is McMahon?”

I nodded and he wrote that down. Or at least I assumed he did. None of his letters looked very much like letters and, for a moment, I wondered if maybe he was writing in some foreign language.

“Alright” he said, scanning the sheet. “Tranny.”

I took a deep breath and waited.

“You got two choices,” Sven told me. He brought the pencil to his mouth and chewed it. “Buy new or install a rebuilt.”

I stared at him. “What?” I was no longer thinking about the fact that I was staring at a Nordic god personified.

He released the pencil from his perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. “New. I find a brand new transmission and put it in. Rebuilt. I take yours apart and replace all the shot components.”

“Okay.” I thought for a minute. I wished, more than anything, that I had someone to consult. Someone who knew more about cars than where to put the gas in. Jenna was just as useless as me when it came to cars. I could call my dad but current circumstances dictated that I shouldn't. I didn't want him to know where I was, what had gone down. I wanted to take care of this on my own.

“Why didn't you wait for me?”

I spun around at the familiar voice. Ty walked in, a frown on his face. He looked from me to Sven and his gaze softened, the frown turning into a smile as he offered a quick wave to the guy standing behind the counter.

“Wait for you?” I asked stupidly.

He rolled his eyes. “I could have brought you. Helped you out with this oaf.” He grinned. “Make sure he doesn't scam you. Or worse.”

Sven snorted. “Fuck off.”

So they were friends. And I hadn't been wrong in guessing his age.

Ty joined me at the counter, leaning his elbows on the white laminate surface. His arms weren't touching mine but he shifted a little so his leg was pressed against me and I had to try hard to concentrate. Sven didn't have anything on him, at least not as far as I was concerned.

“What's the verdict?” he asked Sven.

“Transmission's bad. Was just going over our options.”

Ty looked at me and I nodded. “He was just explaining what each was. New and...” I tried to remember. “Rebuilt?”

Sven nodded. “Yeah. So basically, I can buy a new transmission and get it installed for you. Or I can rebuild what you've already got. It all depends what you want to do. And how much money you want to spend.”

“New costs a shitload of money, doesn't it?” Ty asked.

“Yep.” Sven glanced down at the sheet of paper. “Part alone is gonna cost you six big ones. Easily.”

I swallowed. “Six hundred dollars?”

“And that doesn't include labor.” He stared at me, then glanced at Ty. “I could cut you a deal. Get the whole thing done for maybe a thousand?”

I expelled a breath. I didn't have a thousand dollars to spend on car repairs. Hell, I didn't have six hundred to spend.

“And the other option?” I asked.

“Rebuilding.” Sven grabbed a black notebook and opened it, thumbing through the pages. “I keep some spare stuff on hand but I don't know that I have the parts I'm gonna need for a rebuild. Gotta take it apart first and see what's going on.”

“So if you don't have the parts, how can you fix it?”

“I might not have the parts now,” he clarified. “Doesn't mean I can't get them. But it might take a few days to locate everything.”

My heart sank. “A few days?” And he was just talking about finding the parts, not necessarily putting everything back together and fixing it.

He nodded. “Might not be too hard. I've got some friends in the Cities I can call, see if they have what I need.”

“And new? I mean, if I went with a new transmission, would that get me out of here any faster?”

Ty tensed up and I immediately felt bad. I was in fix-it mode, trying to get myself to Madison. I hadn't been thinking about how my comments might sound to Ty, the guy I'd just mauled on the trail. The guy I'd just poured my heart out to in the living room of his house. The guy who'd tenderly washed and doctored my cut feet. If I was being honest with myself, I'd admit that I didn't want to leave him and the sliver of something that had ignited between us. But there was no way in hell I could stay in Pelican Lake. And he knew that better than anyone.

Sven shook his head. “Nope. Would probably take longer.”

“How?” I asked.

“Gotta order the new transmission. Usually takes about a week.”

I leaned against the counter and closed my eyes. “And the rebuilt. You said a few days. How much will that one cost?”

“Depends how much needs to be replaced.” I opened my eyes and Sven was scribbling on the blue sheet of paper, numbers by the look of it. “But probably half of what it would cost new.”

“So, five hundred?”

He nodded and his hair fell into his eyes. “Give or take a few bucks.” The shop phone rang and he grabbed the cordless phone on the counter, answering it as he walked toward the door that led to the auto bay.

I slowly expelled a breath and looked at Ty. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Cars aren't cheap.” His voice was apologetic. “I wish I could fix it for you. Just not a mechanical kind of guy.”

I waved my hand at him. “Please. You've helped enough.”

He shook his head and smiled ruefully at me. “Not really.”

“Yes, you have. You found me when I broke down, you've given me a place to stay. Your parents have fed me and loaned me clothes. You've given me rides.” I rattled off the list.

“Yeah, well I also put you right back in the place where you didn't want to be.”

I acknowledged this. “Well, that part couldn't be helped. Circumstances, you know?” I drummed my fingers on the countertop. “So now I just have to figure out what to do.”

“Rebuilds are the way to go,” Ty said. “I mean, especially with an older model car like yours. You don't want to sink a boatload of money in something that's that old. What year is it? 95? 96?”

“97,” I told him.

He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, think about it. If you sold the car now, traded it in at a dealership or sold it to someone looking for a used car, you'd probably barely clear fifteen hundred bucks. And that's if it were running.”

He had a good point. “I don't know,” I said. “I can't afford to have it break down again.”

“Rebuilding a transmission isn't as bad as it sounds.” He smiled. “What you get is pretty much gonna be just like you're getting brand new.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I thought you didn't know anything about cars.”

“I never said that,” he said. His smile deepened and his dimple winked at me. “Said I couldn't fix them.”

“So you know everything there is to know about cars?”

“Not everything,” he said. “But I knew enough that first day to know that leaving you on the side of the road wasn't an option.”

My heart tripped a little and I could feel the heat begin to flare in my cheeks. He'd said it with such sweetness, such conviction and I wondered if I was imagining those things. I glanced up at him and his eyes were on me, those hazel eyes that I'd once thought of as friendly but now set me on fire.

He leaned closer, the smile still on his lips and I didn't care that we were standing at the counter of A-Plus Auto. I wanted him to kiss me. I was desperate to have his lips on mine again.

“Are we camping out here until your car is done?” Jenna's voice killed the moment.

I whirled around.

“What the hell is taking so long?” she asked.

“We're discussing our options,” Ty said, straightening a little.

Jenna raised an eyebrow. “Your options for what?” Her eyes darted from me to Ty, a knowing smile on her face, and I knew where her mind was.

I rolled my eyes. “For fixing the stupid car.”

She stepped closer and I could smell the cigarette smoke on her clothes. I wondered how many she'd sucked on. It had probably been a binge kind of morning and I imagined her in the car, dragging on cigarette after cigarette. She certainly smelled like she'd gone through half a pack.

Sven reappeared. “So, what are we gonna do?”

Jenna glanced up at him and her guy radar raised up. She looked him up and down, her mouth opened in unabashed admiration. “You're the mechanic?” she asked blankly.

He nodded, a bemused smiled on his face as his eyes raked over my little sister. I could tell he liked what he saw, too.

“Jesus,” she muttered. Her voice was low but I was pretty sure they both heard her when she said, “Who knew Pelican Lake had so many hot guys?”

“I think I'll do the rebuild,” I said to Sven.

Reluctantly, he tore his gaze from my sister and reached for the tattered piece of paper. He jotted something down on it.

“Yeah, that's the way to go,” he said. “Alright, I'll take her apart today, see what's going on. Can probably figure out what parts I'll need to order and start calling around tonight. If I can get them from the Cities, I should be able to start the rebuild on Wednesday.” He glanced up at a Chevrolet calendar hanging on the wall. “With any luck, we'll have you ready to go some time Thursday.”

Thursday. It was Monday. Three more days.

Three more days of living in Pelican Lake, a stone's throw from where my sister had died, the memories closing in even more after the events of the morning.

Three more days of Sheriff Jorgenson watching me, trying to tie me to the accident that had happened that morning, a link that wasn't there.

Three more days of trying to convince my sister that I was fine, that she could go home and forget that she'd ever had to come and revisit this place.

And three more days with Ty.

Only three more days with Ty.