Safe Harbor (The Lake Trilogy, Book 3) (16 page)

“
I’m not sure if I should tell you. I…I think it’s going to hurt you and I don’t want you to be hurt. And…I don’t want you to think I’m some crazed fiancée,” I tell him hesitantly.

“You went to see my ex-girlfriend in jail. You’re teetering on the line between normal and crazed,” he smirks. “Just tell me Layla.”

“Ok. It wasn’t her mom’s manipulation. She was in on it, too. She was actually pretty mad when you closed the door on sex. She said she missed her chance at having a Meyer baby,” I tell him.

“Are you kidding me? She was going to
try
and get pregnant? Unbelievable. I feel like such an idiot!” Will stands and moves around the room, searching his mind for what to say or do next. “Luke!” he shouts. It’s a good rule of thumb to call for Luke when you don’t know what to do.

“What’s up? Did you two settle things?” he asks me directly.

“Yes, and why are you looking at me like I may have slightly over reacted? Don’t answer that.” Luke smiles at me, squeezing my arm as he walks by to Will.

“You
were right. She is definitely her mother’s daughter,” he says straight-faced to Luke.

“You knew
, too?” I ask.

“No, but Luke had his reservations. She’s been
too calm,” Will answers.

“She thinks she’s going to get manslaughter
and serve less than five years,” I tell them.

“Right now that’s definitely how it’s looking. The prosecuting attorney isn’t slacking, but he isn’t pressing the maximum like he would if this were any other case,” Luke says.

“And what’s this about five million dollars to each of the exes?” I ask.

“She was just
full
of information for you today, wasn’t she?” Will laughs.

“Well, she was working pretty hard to make me feel like crap, so she was pulling out all the stops,” I tell him.

“Well, I thought about what you said. You know, to give some of the money away to people my dad screwed over. His ex-wives seemed like a natural choice.”

“It’s nice to know you listen to me every now and then,” I jest. “But, Holly
thinks she’s going to have a share of the five million dollars of sympathy money her mom is going to get,” I tell Will.

“
Well, I guess she would. Her mom can do whatever she wants with her share,” Will says. “Now that I know the truth about her, I don’t want her to see any of that money, but I can’t do anything about what her mother chooses to do with it.”

“Maybe not, but
…” Luke starts.

“But what? I see the wheels turning. What’s going on in that head of yours?” I ask Luke.

“I have an idea. I’ll need to do a little research and run some numbers, but I think we can make sure Marlene and Holly get every penny they’re
entitled
.”

It’
s been a week since the press conference that announced Will and Eliana’s return from the dead. The number of reporters camped outside our house has dwindled over the days, but there are a few committed guys left. I’m not sure what they’re hoping for. So far they’ve watched us go to the grocery store, order Chinese food, and they’ve said hello to our friends that have come to visit. Today, though, they’re in for a real treat because Will and I are going over to the college to get registered, and then we’re going out for lunch.

They’ve kept their distance, and
have actually been pretty helpful at times. A few of them even helped take some boxes of donations out to the road. But, as nice as they have been, Will is growing tired of their constant presence and decides to address them directly.

“Hey Will! Where are you going?” one of them asks.

“Hi Tom…guys. Gather ‘round boys,” he says to them. There are six of them in all. Will knows all of their names, but I haven’t bothered to try since I’m itching for them to leave and never be seen again. “Can any of you tell me exactly what it is your boss wants you to get from us?”

“Well, uh…” one of them, not Tom, responds.

“That’s what I thought. How about this: you guys leave, let us get back to our boring life, and you six can have exclusive statements from me when the trial is underway. Contact Wes Furtick and he’ll make sure you’ve got all the access you need. Sound good?” Will is kind and generous with them. He knows they’re just doing their jobs, and since they’ve really been great and respectful, it’s hard to shove them aside cruelly.

“That’s awesome! Thanks, Will!” several of them say.

“Great. So, no camping out, no hounding us if you see us out, and no pictures,” Will says to clearly define the parameters.

“You’re a good, guy, Will,” Tom says, reaching out to shake Will’s hand. “For what it’s worth, we’re glad you’re back,” he says motioning to the other reporters.

I can imagine what the atmosphere of the local media was like with Gregory Meyer manipulating everything. All you ever hear from real reporters is that they have this unexplainable drive to seek out and report the truth they believe the public has a right to know. When Will’s father was alive, that was impossible. I’m sure they’re all pretty grateful that the ban on truth has been lifted.

“Thanks, Tom. We appreciate how great you guys have been.
Now, if you can clear out, that’d be even greater.” Will smiles his directive and the guys nod their receipt.

Will opens the passenger door to his car and lets me in. By the time he’s buckled and Fleetwood Mac is playing on the satellite radio, all six of the reporters are nowhere to be seen.

“Well done, babe,” I say as I give Will’s leg a squeeze. “You were so diplomatic. What’s Luke going to think about you giving away exclusivity to them?”

“He’ll be fine. We don’t really care who covers what. The probability for an absolutely true and fair report from
any
media source is slim, so we just don’t worry about it,” he says.

“
Does this feel strange to you? Being back here, driving around like nothing changed?” I ask as we exit the second roundabout that leads to Main Street.

“Yeah,
it does. I’m nervous,” he says honestly.

“I’m nervous, too, but we can do this. We’re together and we’ve got this, right?”

“Right,” he smiles.

By some miracle we find a parking space next to the library. As we exit the car and I turn to see the Green, my mind is flooded with memories.
I’m taken back to my first Concert on the Green and the night I first laid eyes on Will. I remember how kind he seemed, reaching out and acknowledging everyone around him regardless of their station in life. I smile as I look across the Green to the coffee shop where I ran into Will, and I blush as I think of how embarrassed I was when I turned his Coke into an icy puddle on the sidewalk. As I scan the shops and businesses along Main Street, I also remember the day I met Marcus in the bookstore, and my mood changes from happy reminiscing to sad.

“You ok?” Will asks, putting his arm around my waist.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” I tell him.

“Memories?”

I nod, for fear of crying.

“I know you miss him.” Will kisses the top of my head and leaves it at that.

I do miss Marcus. I miss the Marcus I met in the bookstore that warm August day. I miss the Marcus who helped me survive trigonometry and chemistry. I miss the Marcus who made amends with me before I moved to Florida, who comforted me when Will was missing. I miss
that
Marcus and the resentment I feel toward Holly and her mother begins to rise to the surface.

Marcus had a chance at a real life. He was brilliant and could have done anything, been anything. Instead of nurturing that in him, his mother spent her life feeding him the sour medicine of her hate. She bullied him into subjecting himself to repeated rejection. She knew Meyer would never accept Marcus, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t about him. It was about her and her desire to make sure Gregory Meyer never forgot
them or what he did to her. As if he cared.

As we step onto the Davidson College campus
I breathe a sigh of relief that we’re on the threshold of nothing but a normal life. The admissions office is actually on Main Street, so we could have walked the sidewalk all the way there, but the campus is just too pretty to pass up the chance to walk it. A smile crosses my face as I think about the times Will and I walked the campus in anonymity.

“
I still don’t understand why you’re going to Davidson and not the Ivy League school of your choice,” I say to Will. “I mean, Davidson is an amazing school, totally top notch, but you could go anywhere.”

“Have you forgotten that we’re getting married?” He smiles and then kisses my hand that he is now holding.

“Oh, no, I didn’t forget. I just want to make sure that you know you don’t have to do this for me. Lots of husbands commute for their jobs between states. I’m just saying that if you want to go to some ridiculously amazing school, you can.”

“Layla,” he says turning to face me as we stop. “There is nothing that will ever be as important to me as being with you. I don’t care where we live or where we go to school. All that matters is that we’re there together.”

“Well, since you put it that way…” I reach my arms up and around Will’s neck and draw him to me. “I suppose I should say thank you.” With that I press my lips to Will’s in a long, sweet kiss.

“Best. Thank you. Ever,” he says breathlessly.

We cross Main Street and enter Grey House, which is the Admissions Office of Davidson College. Everything seems to be going fine. We meet with the admissions counselor who has our paperwork. We asked that the same counselor handle the admissions procedures for both of us since we’ll be married soon, to which they’ve been very accommodating. I’m sure we’re not the first couple to ask this. Since Davidson doesn’t have a Business major, Will is going to switch to Economics, and I’ll be sticking with Psychology. We weren’t that far along at FSU, so all of our general education classes are switching over.

“Well that should do it. You’re both all registered for classes, so I’m sure you’re glad to have that out of the way,” the admissions counselor says. Her na
meplate reads Rebekah Woodfin, but she told us that everyone calls her Bekah. She’s young…probably not out of college herself more than a year or two. She’s a lovely girl with long light brown hair and eyes to match. “When are you getting married?” she asks.

“We haven’t set a date ye
t, but…” I begin.

“It’ll be before Christmas,” Will finishes. I look at him with stunned eyes.

“Sounds like you two have some things to iron out,” Bekah says with a chuckle.

“I guess so!” I say, echoing her laugh.

“Um…I hope you don’t mind me saying, but…I just want you to know that, as a community, we’re so glad you’re back.” Bekah smiles at Will, addressing the elephant in the room. She’s been so polite and incredibly professional. It was kind of her to wait until we had resolved the academic issues before mentioning anything.

“Thank you, Bekah. It feels wonderful to be home.” Will smiles and nods
, and it seems we have made contact with our first ally since being home. I hope what she’s said about the community being glad Will’s back is as true as she believes it to be.

We exit the building and
stroll up Main Street as if we didn’t have a care in the world. Not much has changed since we left. The Soda Shop still has metal tables and chairs outside and its Specials board propped up by the front door. The bridal shop is a chic woman’s boutique now, but it looks as beautiful as it always did.

When we approach Main Street Books, I feel a twinge of sadness again as I think of Marcus. I don’t want to, but I can’t help it. I look down and turn my head so I can’t even catch a glimpse of
the store in my periphery.

“Don’t,” Will says.

“What?”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not thinking about him. It’s ok, Layla,” he tells me.

“It just doesn’t seem fair to be so consumed with thoughts of him,” I say softly. It feels like I’m being disrespectful to Will.

“Layla, baby…Marcus played a big part in your life
and I would never want you to pretend he didn’t. I hate what you went through with him in Tallahassee, but we know that wasn’t the real Marcus. I’m…well, I’m actually kind of jealous of you. You got to know the Marcus that was a nice guy. I never knew him like that. I wish he and I could have known each other…
really
known each other. It would have been nice to know I wasn’t alone.” Will looks sad now, too, but his sadness comes from the thoughts of knowing he lost a brother before he ever had a chance to know him.

“I’m sorry you never got to know him. There was a time he really was a wonderful guy,” I say to Will, brushing his longer hair from his eyes. “I suppose we’re both finding the family we’ve needed.”

“Come with me. I want to show you something,” he says, smiling big and taking my hand.

We cross the street and walk up
the main entrance to Davidson College Presbyterian Church. The front doors are unlocked so Will leads me in. I’m in awe and feel like I should genuflect, but I’m pretty sure it’s not that kind of church. The sanctuary is beautiful and grand, and the white pews and walls make the room so bright…a much different feeling than the last time I was here for Will’s funeral.