Unbelievable (43 page)

“I wish you’d just let it go. He has gotten better, somewhat. Cole, I don’t want to be the rift between you two,” she said, tugging on my shirt.

“You won’t be. And I can’t believe you say he’s getting better. He hardly spoke to you tonight. And never once did he pass any food to you.”

“Baby steps, Cole. Besides, you’re too sweet. Opie doesn’t get upset with people.” I hated how she made me out to be perfect sometimes. I tried pointing out my many flaws to her, and she’d just brush my words aside. If I were a smart man, I’d marry her before she wised up. Let her figure it out after I got the ring on her finger.
Note to self: shut up
.

I opened the car door for her. “Wait. You don’t really dye your hair, do you?” I looked at the roots, trying to see if the color were different.

“Now, Cole, a girl has to have some secrets.” She smiled the smile I loved most. Sweet and playful. She kissed my cheek before driving off. I’d have preferred a kiss on the lips.

“You still don’t trust her, do you?” I asked Booker as I came back inside. He’d parked himself on the couch with a bag of potato chips and had turned on a baseball game.

“Have I not behaved politely all evening to her? Have I not gone out of my way to compliment her about the great job she did on your house? It looks like her, by the way,” he pointed out.

“Have you not answered my question?” I pressed.

He dropped his head down. “I’m trying. Really am. I’ll admit after spending this past week around her I’m starting to think that maybe I overreacted to her being Dreser’s daughter, and that maybe,
maybe
she’s telling the truth,” he said.

“She is.”

“I do believe her feelings for you are real. If she’s faking those, she’s an even better actress than I gave her credit for.” Booker pointed the remote at the flat screen TV opposite us and clicked to another baseball game.
I hate baseball.
“I’d feel better if the information she’d given us was any good.”

“Nothing’s panned out? What about the drawings?” I shifted on the leather recliner to see his face.

“We can’t find the supposed clinic in Laraso, Mexico, but like she said, the police force has a reputation for its corruption.” He muted the TV. “The drawings are her word that they are her father, so they don’t hold much weight. And the photos she gave us were too grainy to be of any real help.”

“I know she’s telling the truth, Booker,” I said firmly.

“No offense, Opie, but you’re hardly an objective voice in all this.” His hand shot up, stopping my protest. “There have been positives also. She let us bug her phone and her apartment. On the other hand, she could have another phone we don’t know about which she uses to keep her dad abreast of everything.” His face hardened. “And that stupid stunt she pulled disappearing for five hours didn’t bode well for her either.”

I agreed with him on that. I couldn’t believe she’d do that. “Thanks for helping her with her tire. She told me about it.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. I knew better.

“Book, you’re like a brother to me, but I’m very much in love with Lilah. I think . . .
I know
she is a pawn in all this and that she’s doing all she can to help. I want you to back off.” I decided to shoot straight with him. No more Mr. Nice Guy. “If you can’t, I’ll have to ask you to stay out of my life, which is something I don’t want, believe me.” He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped.

“Have you looked at her lately, I mean really looked at her? She doesn’t sleep well anymore. She’s lost almost as much weight as you. What are you
down now, ten, fifteen pounds?”

“Fourteen,” he admitted.

“This has to end. You need to get this obsession under control before it destroys your life.”

He didn’t say anything. Instead he laid his head back against the couch and looked up at the ceiling.

“How are the panic attacks? Has all this stirred them up again?” I asked, scooping up a handful of chips.

“They’re back, but I’m doing better at dealing with them. At least I’m sleeping a little at night, whereas before I wasn’t.” He took a large handful of chips for himself. “Did I ever tell you about the first time I met Maggie?” he asked, putting the chips back.

“No.”

“It was at her trailer. She and Seth had been at the park the night Lilah’s brother brutally mur. . . well, you remember what happened,” he said grimly.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I walked up to the ramshackle trailer she lived in, unprepared for the sight of her.” His eyes crinkled. “So pale, so thin.
Unbelievably
thin. And the dark circles around her eyes were heartbreaking. She reminded me so much of my sister, my first instinct was to take her and hide her from all the garbage her mother had dragged her into.”

“Why did she remind you of Sara?”

“Sara and I were twins.” I already knew, but nodded. “She was very sick. As a baby she was in and out of the hospital constantly. She had asthma, and my parents had a difficult time controlling it. When she turned twelve, she developed diabetes. Sara struggled daily with her sugar levels. That was why she was so thin.

“Kids at school were mean to her, calling her names and pushing her around. I think I got into five fights in tenth grade protecting her from some of the jerks who found it funny to trip her, or spill their lunch on her.”

“You fought with girls?” I asked in surprise.

“No. I’d never hit a girl, you know that. These were guys. A little group of cruel, mean guys. Maggie looked so much like Sara. Not the face, but the general sickly appearance, and it triggered all these protective instincts in me.”

“And you’re afraid Lilah’s father will do to Mags and Seth what the men who broke into your home did to your family,” I said, understanding his struggle with Lilah a little more. He was just sixteen when they were beaten to death in front of him.

He nodded and turned the TV off. “The Mets are losing. No surprise there. Come on, let’s go shoot some hoops,” he said. I pointed to my bandaged head.

“Who knows, maybe the surgery helped your coordination. It certainly couldn’t have hurt it. Maybe you’ve passed through your clumsy stage,” he said, walking into the kitchen. I followed.

“Nope.” I pushed the sleeve of my shirt up, revealing a large bruise with a small bandage across it.

“What happened?” Booker grimaced.

“One of Seth’s tiles in the bathroom has a raised lip and
my foot caught it while brushing my teeth this afternoon,” I admitted with reluctance.

“Doc, that
lip’s microscopic.” He laughed. “I’m only kidding about playing basketball. I’ll see if I have a tiddlywinks game. Wait.” He stopped and turned back to me. “Too dangerous. You’ll probably poke an eye out. Let’s stick to cards. Is Uno okay? Although you could get a paper cut.”

I picked up the discarded newspaper lying on the table, balled it up and tossed it at him, missing of course.

He grinned. “Some things never change.”

Chapter
35

Lilah

I spent all my time over the next two days with Cole. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” to quote Dickens. The best was sitting and talking about things like our dreams, our desires for our future life together, and just the tender sweetness of being in love.

The worst? Knowing that
, in truth, we’d have no future together, and that I’d be leaving soon. What hurt equally was watching Cole struggle with the pain. He refused to take the prescription meds from the surgeon and got by on ibuprofen. If he was lucky, his exhaustion took over and he could sleep through some of the pain.

Two more positives: Daddy hadn’t called back, and Booker was fairly cordial when he came by Seth’s. Cole didn’t tell me exactly what had happened, but it seemed to have an impact on Booker, at least in front of Cole.

The bedroom furniture was scheduled to arrive at two this afternoon. Cole had a headache, which he assured me was normal after brain surgery. He stayed at Seth’s to rest for a while. I went to the house and moved the couch aside so they could get the huge bed in easier. It took an hour for them to assemble the bed. Cole arrived with Booker as I finished putting on the bedspread.

“Hold on. I’m almost done,” I called out to Cole.

Hurrying, I positioned the pillows on the bed and arranged the clock and lamp I’d bought for the bedside table, stepping back to make sure everything looked right. “Perfect. Not too girly, not to manly.” I hurried out to Cole and led him to the room. Booker wandered upstairs, clearly not wanting to be part of it.

“Close your eyes.” I took Cole’s hand, guiding him through the door, stopping after a few paces. “Okay, look.”

His mouth dropped open. “The bed’s beautiful, perfect for the space,” I pointed out. “Note the mattress is a California king, just like you wanted.” I looked at him with trepidation. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” He smiled widely. “I love everything. It’s perfect, all of it. I love the orange—”

“Burnt orange,” I interjected. “Remember you picked it out on one of the web sites. I know you don’t care for orange—”

“But I actually like the burnt orange, especially with the brown and beige—”

“Cream.”

He laughed. “Brown and
cream
pillows. Everything is perfect. Thank you.” He pulled me into his arms. “You did an outstanding job. And Maggie, of course.”

“I’m glad you like it. Booker said he’d get the mantle done next week.” 

“No rush. I don’t think we’ll need it for a while since it’s supposed to be ninety-seven degrees out today.”

“I brought lunch to celebrate.” Seth’s voice rang out from the other room.

We met them in the kitchen. They had a basket full of food on the counter. Booker came down from upstairs and joined us.

“We have Caesar salad, cold potato-leek soup
, and fresh off-the-vine watermelon.” Seth set the food on the counter as Maggie gathered some plates and utensils.

“Magpie, keep using that spoon and we’ll be here
‘til Christmas,” Booker teased as she mistakenly tried to serve up the soup with a slotted spoon.

“Why so grumpy, Book, didn’t get your cat nap today?”

And the bantering began.

Cole leaned against the wall and folded his arms, watching everyone.

“Are you okay?” I asked, rubbing his back.

“Couldn’t be better. And I owe it all to you, Lilah. Finally, I have a home. Not some empty shell of a house, but a warm, inviting home where my friends can visit. And I have the perfect woman to share it all with.”

I looked into his eyes, so full of love, thinking maybe, somehow, I could have this life I so desperately wanted.

Cole lit up with laughter, watching Booker spill lemonade on the counter. Maggie grabbed a towel and mopped up the mess as Booker cleaned up the floor where it had dribbled over the edge. For the first time in a long while I saw a genuine smile on Booker’s face.

My cell phone rang, instantly squelching the fun. All eyes turned to me. Booker’s face hardened. As if by instinct, Seth’s arm wrapped around Maggie protectively. I reached for my purse, my hands shaking so hard I could barely open it. I drew out the phone.

Restricted
. I sunk to my knees. “I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.” I didn’t bother wiping the tears away. “I want my life back. I’m tired of this game.” I buried my face in my hands, bumping my head on my phone. “No more. Please, no more. I can’t do this anymore.”

Warm hands wrapped around mine. I looked up expecting to see Cole’s deep blue eyes, and flinched when I met Booker’s.

“De-Lilah, please, just one more time. If this doesn’t work, then you can tell him the truth. We’re so close now. Please,” he pleaded softly.

“No. This is ridiculous. She’s done,” Cole demanded.

I looked over at Seth, with his arm around Maggie, tears glistening in her eyes. I looked back at Cole, his head still carrying the bandages from surgery, and answered the phone, setting it on speaker.

“Princess.” I cringed at the name. Cole pushed off the wall and stomped across the room, anger pouring off him. “I need those numbers now!”