Something didn’t look right.
Jem, back from dropping Lili off, closed his apartment door behind him and surveyed his home.
Natalie and her outdated laptop at the counter. That part looked very right, though he didn’t fool himself into thinking she was here for his company but rather his free Wi-Fi.
But the rest of the apartment—even with his new couch and dining table—looked too . . . bare? Impersonal?
He couldn’t ask his father to dinner here until this got fixed. Dad always said he wasn’t responsible enough. This needed to look like the home of a responsible father who was capable of caring for his son.
If only he knew where to start.
“Nat?”
She didn’t respond, just stayed hunched over her screen, blue light reflecting off her face.
He flicked the button on the internet modem. After a few seconds her head popped up, reading glasses in place. A new addition since they’d been together. Black frames, very “sexy librarian.”
Not that he’d express that thought aloud.
Now they rested over a puckered brow. “What’s with the Wi-Fi?”
He lifted the modem and pretended to reset it while actually turning it back on. “That should fix it. While I’ve got your attention . . .”
Her gaze, already back down at her screen, dragged up with apparent reluctance.
“I need your opinion.” Something she usually had no problem giving. Hopefully she’d take the bait.
“On what?”
He smothered a smile. Same old Nat. “I want to try and have Dad over, give him and Oliver a proper introduction. But, well . . .” He indicated the drying rack by the sink, which held two baby bowls and three adult-sized plates. “That’s pretty much the extent of my dishes. The whole place needs a spruce-up.”
She got a glint in her eye.
“On a budget.”
She leaned back on her mismatched stool and twirled a pen between her fingers. “Thrift store. If you buy all their blue-and-white plates, it doesn’t matter that they don’t match. They look good anyway.”
He pulled his notebook from his back pocket and scribbled down the note. “And the rest of the house?”
She surveyed the living area. “It’s missing photos.”
He palmed his forehead. Of course. “I can do that.”
“Get some frames, but do an album too. John’s missed the first nine months of Olly’s life. Let him catch up.”
Jem’s pen paused on the notepad. Would Dad want to know anything about those first months of parenthood in Chicago? Or would any mention of his life BC—Before Charlottesville—only serve as an unwelcome reminder?
“The first one of Olly smiling on camera.” Natalie’s soft voice broke through his reverie. “He’ll want to see that one.” He’d showed it to her the other day.
Jem straightened and stuffed his notebook back in his pocket. “Thanks.”
“Maybe cushions and a throw rug wouldn’t kill you either.”
He rolled his eyes. She loved to decorate almost as much as she loved throwing a good party. He’d seen web pages on her laptop one morning as they worked on her festival proposal. Crocodile Dundee costumes. For her dad’s birthday. He sure hoped he was in her good graces by then, because that’d be an event worth seeing.
He checked the time on his phone. Dangerously close to Olly’s dinnertime. The predinner hour tended to be Olly’s fussiest. Best to save the shopping for tomorrow. But he could sort through the photos now. He pulled up the app on his phone and leaned against the counter as he marked some for printing.
Natalie looked askance at him. “You’re doing this for your dad? You really think that’ll make the King of Criticism admit you did something right?”
A good point. His thumbs stopped swiping across the screen.
The phone rang in his hand. His editor. What did he want on a Friday evening?
“Samson?”
“Jeremy. Your page-three article that ran today.” No smile in his boss’s voice.
Jem’s hand went to the back of his neck as a chill spread through him. He’d been stoked to see that his report on a major drug arrest made the lead on page three and even had a teaser on the front. But now . . . “Yes?”
“I just had your father on the phone for twenty minutes. He was . . . most displeased. You mixed up the surnames of the accused and the arresting officer.”
His nerves stood on end as a flush swept through him. Jem covered his eyes with his hand. No, no, no, no, no. How could that have happened? “I am so sorry. I’ll come in and load a correction on the website.”
“Done already. But not a good start, Walters.” Click.
Jem lowered the phone.
Natalie, oblivious, closed her laptop with one hand and rummaged around her handbag with the other. “I’ll finish prepping this presentation for the board at home, anyway. I have to help my friend Mindy with some bridal shower details.” The last part came out as a mumble.
Jem gave a halfhearted wave as she slipped past him to the door, his mind still spinning. How could he have made such a stupid mistake? Dad would never let him forget this.
He slumped down on the stool Natalie had vacated, his photo app still open on his phone. Olly’s gummy smile grinned up at him. What was the point of this? He and Dad hadn’t seen eye to eye since Mom went into labor with Jem partway through Dad’s awards banquet back when he was a sergeant.
A gurgle in the corner caught his attention. Olly, playing with a set of oversized plastic keys.
The baby seemed to notice Jem’s gaze on him, because he crawled in Jem’s direction. “Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da.”
He’d caught Nat yesterday trying to teach him to say, “Nat-Nat-Nat-Nat.” Unsuccessfully.
He reached down and pulled his son up into his arms. “Hey, there, bud.” The baby grabbed Jem’s nose and squealed. Jem leaned his forehead against Olly’s. He couldn’t imagine not being a part of Oliver’s life when he grew up. And his son deserved to have at least one grandparent. Chloe’s absence from their lives meant her parents were out, and Mom was already gone.
Natalie’s words about forgiveness last week returned to him.
He’d turned his back on God in far more dramatic fashion than his father had ever done to him. And God had taken him back.
He squared his shoulders.
Every day, try one more time.
He marked another photo to be printed.
* * *
“If I flunk art, I’m not going to get a scholarship.”
Lili sucked on her blue raspberry Icee as Nick spoke from the other side of their wooden bench out in front of Target, shopping bags stacked around him. He waved his hands as he talked, brown eyes alight. Nick could talk about the growth rate of fungus and he’d look enthusiastic about it.
And since she hadn’t yet worked up the courage to tell him about Dad, she let him talk. “That’s what you’re after? A scholarship?” Another slurp of the Icee.
Nick nodded, lips attached to his own straw. “It’s the only way I’ll get to a good college anytime soon. Otherwise I’ll have to spend a couple years working. Maybe take night classes. This art is killing me.”
Lili lowered her Icee. This would be the perfect segue for her tutoring idea. Maybe then she could work up the nerve to tell him about her parents. She leaned forward. “Do you want me to tell you a secret?”
Nick’s phone alarm interrupted. He pulled it out and hit a button. “Oh man, I didn’t realize what the time was. I’ve gotta go check my chickens.”
Lili choked. “Your what?”
A grin curled his lips. “Wanna see something cute? It’s only a couple blocks away.”
“Okay.” Maybe the interruption was a sign she shouldn’t tell. And the boy had chickens. Now was not the time for secrets.
He tossed his empty cup into the trash, grabbed his shopping bags, and led the way. Lili followed him onto the sidewalk, where the cooling air hinted their sweet fall nights were numbered. She buttoned her denim jacket. Nick had no coat, just a flannel shirt over his Nirvana T-shirt, which peeked out from a tear on his back. She made a mental note of it and quickened her steps to walk alongside him.
“What were you saying about a secret?” Nick asked as she drew level with him.
She scrambled for an answer. “It’s . . . it’s the secret to art. Art is all about showing someone a story, even if that story is just one thought or emotion.”
Phew, that was close.
“What if I don’t have many of those?”
Typical boy. “There must be something you want to say with your life. Or something that reflects how you feel.”
“You’re starting to sound like my counselor.”
“You go to a counselor?” Her question came out louder than expected. Oops. He just didn’t seem like the counseling type. “Sorry, that was nosy.”
Nick shrugged. “No, it’s fine. Aunt Trish finally convinced me last year. Unfortunately not before I punched a hole through her wall.”
“You punched a hole through her wall?” The pitch of her voice heightened with her surprise.
“It was when my brother’s stuff was really bad. I thought he was going to jail.”
They reached the front gate of a small house. A rosebush peeked over the fence and white wicker furniture rested on the porch. Nicer than she expected. The scent of freshly mowed grass tickled her allergies.
Nick opened the gate, sat his bags on the concrete path, and reached for an upside-down flowerpot tucked next to the fence. A key rested beneath.
“Aunt Trish always makes sure I can get in. She even leaves a key for her car, just in case.”
Lili’s legs turned to lead. “This isn’t your place?”
“No.” Nick laughed the word. “Our place isn’t this side of town. And it’s not visitor friendly. But most important, it doesn’t have these.” He nodded toward a box resting by the side door. “Wanna see?”
She moved forward, an eye on the door for any sign of her temptress teacher. “Is Miss Kent here?”
“No, she’ll be out for a while.” Nick pulled the lid off the box, and a yellow light spilled out from a heat lamp. “Check this out.”
She peeked inside. Ten eggs smiled back at her, their faces drawn on with a Sharpie. “These are going to be chickens?”
“Yep. They’re for Mom. She’s always wanted some.”
“Why are they here?”
“I didn’t want her to be disappointed if they didn’t make it. Aunt Trish is letting me keep them here till they hatch and grow up a little bit, then I’ll take them home and surprise her.”
“Wow.” Words fled Lili’s mouth as she stared at the eggs, tucked into a bed of fabric scraps. Warmth caressed her cheeks from the heat lamp attached to the top of the box. The faces even had little eyebrows and ears. “You did her most embarrassing shopping and you’re raising her chickens? You’re a good son.”
“Pretty sure I’m not, but thanks anyway.”
“No, I’m serious. I always thought it was weird how . . . normal you are.” She knelt by the box, reached in, and stroked the delicate shell of an egg.
“No one’s as normal as they look.”
He was righter than he knew.
“How do you do it?” Lili’s need to know pressed her gut harder than the button of her too tight skirt.
Nick sat on the step and rested an elbow on his knee. “I owe a lot to Aunt Trish. I’ve lived with her on and off for most of my life, whenever things got bad with Mom. She made sure I got fed, always had enough clothes, had a ride to school. She introduced me to God—not in a ‘Jesus loves the lambs’ kind of way. Like a ‘Next time Mom has a psychotic episode, Jesus will hold your hand’ kind of way. And He did.”
She pulled her hand away from the egg. God had left her alone. Was something wrong with her? “Anything else?”
“Anything else what?”
“Did anything else help you cope?”
He pointed to the eggs. “I do stuff like this. I’m a fixer. Plus, once I gave up on my weekly staring contests with my counselor, I realized it’s way smarter to take action about the junk that happens in your life than to sit there and try to explode the counselor’s brain using the dark side of the Force.”
Lili bit the inside of her cheek. What action could she take? She was stuck.
Nick pulled a Sharpie from his pocket and reached for an egg. “Want to name one?”
She reached for the Sharpie—and the distraction. “Really?”
“Sure. Anything you want. Actually, you can name five of them. I’ll do the others.”
She took the Sharpie in one hand and the egg in the other, its warmth seeping through her palm. “What about Leonardo Da Vinci?”
“That old inventor dude?”
“A genius at math and art.”
Nick grinned. “Perfect.”
He found another marker and scribbled names on his eggs while she finished hers. They lined them up in the box for the naming ceremony. Nick’s hand brushed Lili’s as he straightened an egg.
“Okay, you go first,” he said.
She pointed to the first egg. “Leo.”
Nick nodded his approval.
“Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael, and Taylor Swift. All amazing artists.”
Nick quirked an eyebrow. “Ninja turtles and T-Swift?”
“Artists. Also ninja turtles.”
The smile he gave her sent sparks through her body.
“What about yours?”
“Bruce, Robin, Alfred, Martha, and Thomas.”
“A Wayne family reunion?”
“Holy guacamole, Batman, so it is.”
She chuckled at his Robin impersonation. The laughter died away, and Nick kept looking at her with that half grin on his face.
She took a breath. It was now or never. “Nick, can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
A Fiat pulled into the driveway. Nick jumped up. “Aunt Trish is back.” He jogged to the car.
Lili clambered to her feet, but Miss Kent popped out of the car before she could escape. The teacher swallowed her nephew in a hug, despite being almost a foot shorter and forty pounds lighter than him.
“How’s Stephen?” Nick managed to get out around her death grip.
Lili gritted her teeth. Miss Kent had seen Stephen . . . with Dad.
No wonder he hadn’t replied.
Miss Kent gave a quiet response, and Nick’s face wiped of all emotion. He squeezed his aunt, face hidden by her poufy curls. Lili’s hands, no longer warmed by the eggs, turned to ice as the wind whipped up. She wrapped her arms around herself.
If Dad had hidden the fact that he’d just spent the afternoon with Miss Kent . . . what else might he be hiding?
The pair broke apart, and Nick bent to retrieve the shopping bags they’d left on the ground. Miss Kent’s gaze landed on Lili. Her eyes widened, and she flicked a glance at her nephew.
Lili drilled her with an unblinking stare, then turned to Nick as he straightened with an armful of bags. “I’d better take off, Nick.”
“Are you sure? You can come inside till your uncle gets here. And didn’t you have a question you were asking me?”
“I, uh, was just going to offer to fix that tear in your shirt. Natalie’s teaching me to sew, if you’re willing to be my guinea pig.”
“That’d be awesome. Last time Aunt Trish tried to sew, she sealed my pockets closed.” He grinned at his aunt as he shrugged off his outer shirt and handed it to Lili. She gripped the soft fabric and backed toward the gate.
“My uncle will pick me up from the corner,” she lied. “I’ll see you at school.”
The gate banged behind her as she walked as fast as she dared. She made it around the corner of the block before tears slid down her face and dripped from her chin. But she tried to stay positive.
Maybe Dad hadn’t known Miss Kent would be there. Maybe Stephen had occupied all their time.
Or maybe Dad was choosing her over Mom? Over Lili?
Her shoulders shook with sobs as her thoughts swirled up, a waterspout of despair. She’d tried so hard over the past couple of weeks. It hadn’t been easy to leave home, but she’d done it because Dad asked her. She’d never demanded her parents spend time with her. She’d worked harder on her studies than ever. She’d helped Jem with Olly and even done a chunk of the housework.
But it wasn’t enough.
She pulled out her phone and messaged Granddad. Jem wouldn’t be looking for her for a while yet, and Grandad should be knocking off work around now. He liked to take her for rides in the police car. Plus, he was less astute than Jem when it came to tears.
By the time she scrubbed the water off her face and got back to Target, his black-and-white car idled in the parking lot.
“Hi, there, cupcake.” Granddad’s grizzled face softened when she got in. He held up a small tub and spoon. “Frozen mango treat?”
A tiny piece of Lili’s burden lifted. “I love you.” She took the gift and poked the spoon in her mouth as she secured her seat belt. Sweetness melted on her tongue.
Granddad put the car into gear and pulled out into traffic. “How are you? Your uncle taking good care of you?”
She swallowed the last of her sobs and adopted a flippant tone. Best to be flippant when the conversation was teetering between Dad cheating and a badly hidden father-son feud. “He told me not to tell you that yesterday we had a Beyoncé karaoke night. He was afraid you’d be jealous.”
Granddad grunted.
So much for flippant. “That was a joke. He helped me write a newspaper article for my English assignment.” She poked Granddad’s knee. “You should come visit us. Jem’s not so bad. And Olly’s growing fast.”
She was the only person Granddad would let nag him about Jem. Up until recently she’d been his only grandchild, and he spoiled her shamelessly.
“I saw the photo you sent me of him walking along the furniture.”
She smiled around the spoon between her lips. Cracks were everywhere in this family. Maybe if she could glue together one little piece, it would help the rest.
Granddad glanced at her as they pulled into Jem’s parking lot. “You okay? Your eyes look a bit red.”
“Allergies.” Lili gave her spoon one last lick and unclipped her seat belt. “Will you come upstairs with me? Just to say hello?”
He patted her hand. “Maybe another time.”
She stared at him. So polite. So distant. Refusing to make an effort, even for her sake. Was this what the future looked like? Her family in neat little compartments, always tense and never together?
She got out of the car and stood on the sidewalk. “Thanks for the ride.”
He gave her a wave and drove off, and Lili watched him go. Uncle Jem had never been enough for her grandfather. What made her think her own family would be any different with her?
Lili dragged herself up the stairs to Jem’s apartment and entered with her key. Jem stood in the kitchen as she closed the door, cell phone to his ear.
“I can’t hear you, Nat. What did you say . . . ? What kind of emergency?”