All In (26 page)

I feel my brows furrow.
“What do you mean…
new
information?” It was an accident. What kind of new
information could they have?

My father clears his throat. “It seems
Gregory Chase may have had something to do with the accident, so
the cops are here to get the details.”

“I’m sorry?” I shake my head, unsure
I’ve heard him correctly. Did he say Gregory had something to do
with Andrew’s accident? “What do you mean?” My jaw tightens and my
pulse begins to race again, although I’m not completely shocked at
the idea he could be involved somehow.

“Lane came to visit your brother
earlier this afternoon and ran into Gregory as he was leaving. They
had a verbal altercation that Andrew was awoken to, and he
overheard Gregory admit to laying down spike strips to cause the
accident. Although, they were apparently intended for Lane.” My
father pauses, allowing my mind time to catch up. Which it does.
Fast. Spike strips? Meant for Lane? My hand covers my mouth
involuntarily. “Luckily, your brother signaled the nurse with his
call button and interrupted their confrontation before it escalated
any further. The cops are here to take the boy’s statements before
they can issue an arrest warrant for Gregory.”

Hot tears fill my eyes and it’s hard
to speak, but I push the words out anyway. “Gregory tried to cause
Lane to get into an accident?”

“There’s more, I’m afraid,” my mother
says, patting my knee.

“More?” I croak. “How?”

“Gregory not only confessed to the
accident, but he admitted to calling the authorities and having
Lane arrested for their race and then having Richard use his
connections to revoke Lane’s scholarship.”

Silent tears stream down my face as I
feel the crushing guilt for blaming Lane for Andrew’s
accident.

My mother moves to sit next to me and
wraps her arms around my shaking body. “And to think that amazing
boy could have been killed out of spite and jealousy.”

“Andrew?” I say, crying into her
shoulder.

She presses her lips to my temple and
rubs small soothing circles on my back like she did when I was a
child. “Lane, dear.”

I pull away, my eyes wide with
disbelief. Am I hearing things? “Did you just say…Lane?”

“Oh, Ashley, we were so wrong.” My
mother brushes one of my wayward curls from my face and tucks it
behind my ear, her tone pleading. “We are so very sorry for the way
we treated Lane. We should have trusted you, honey. I hope you can
forgive us.”

I feel my jaw drop open, but I’m too
shocked to pick it up and graciously accept her apology. My father
gives my hand a gentle squeeze causing me to finally close my
mouth, but I can feel my eyes are still opened wide.

“Officer Evans informed us Lane pulled
Andrew from the wreckage, incurring several wounds himself, and
tended to him until the paramedics arrived,” my father explains
softly, regret lacing his tone. “If it weren’t for Lane, Andrew
would not have survived.”

I watch a single tear run down my
mother’s apologetic face before the entire room begins to spin
wildly out of control.

Lane saved Andrew’s life.

I jump to my feet, swaying slightly,
and have to close my eyes to right myself, although I still feel
dizzy. I need to talk to Lane.

“Darling, where are you going?” My
mother stands and puts her hands on my shoulders to help steady
me.

“I have to go. I have to talk to him.
Tell him how wrong I was and beg him to take me back. I have to fix
this,” I say like any wasted second it takes to get to him will be
the end of us, forever.

“Of course, my dear.” She gives me a
quick hug and then releases me to go make things right.

As I reach the doorway, I’m pulled up
short when Lane walks out with the officer at his side.

“Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore?” the officer
says, addressing my parents as Lane and I stare at one another,
standing so close the smell of soap and sunshine washes over me.
His face is pink with sunburn and I want to reach out and touch his
cheek, to soothe him if I can.

“Yes, Officer?” my father answers.
“What can we do for you?”

“Nothing right now, sir. I’m going to
finish interviewing Mr. McCarthy down at the station so your son
can get some rest.” I peer into Andrew’s room as his nurse punches
the red button, administering his pain meds and sending him off to
a restful nap. “I also wanted to let you know I’ll be picking up
the arrest warrant for Mr. Chase. We have more than enough to press
charges.”

“Thank you, Officer Evans, for all
your hard work,” my father says, shaking the cop’s hand, then
turning to Lane and shaking his as well. “And thank you, Lane. We
will never be able to thank you enough for what you did for
Andrew.”

Lane nods. I’m surprised he doesn’t
seem more shocked by my father’s sudden change of attitude. I still
am.

The officer places his hand on Lane’s
shoulder, pride written all over his face.

“Good day,” Officer Evans says with a
tip of his hat then begins to lead Lane past us. I struggle for
something to say before he leaves, but before I can speak, I feel
Lane’s hand reach out and brush against mine as soft and gentle as
a kiss.

His touch renders me completely
speechless even though my heart is shouting a million ‘I’m
sorry’s’, a thousand ‘thank you’s’, a hundred ‘don’t go’s’, and one
all-encompassing ‘I love you.’

Lane

“Surprise!” Mom, Grandpa, and Irene
shout as Sam and I walk in the front door, startling me from
replaying the way it felt when I reached out and brushed Ashley’s
fingertips with mine.

I couldn’t stop myself. No matter the
torture it would cost me later, I had to feel the touch of her
skin, to feel our connection, one last time.

My heart pounds, as I look around at
their happy faces. I haven’t had a chance to tell them what
transpired at the hospital today because it all happened so fast,
but I think it’s safe to say I’ve had enough surprises for one
day.

“Surprise?” I ask, rubbing my forehead
before I notice that our tiny living room has been decorated for a
party. Blue and white streamers hang in loops across the back wall
and are also draped over each blade of the ceiling fan hanging
above the coffee table. A half dozen blue colored balloons are
bunched together and tied to one of the legs of the coffee table,
and shiny white confetti in the shapes of graduation caps and tiny
diplomas are strewn across the table’s surface. Yale
colors.

“You do all know I’m not going to
Yale, right?” I say half joking-half irritated. Like I need to be
reminded of what I’ve lost at the hands of Gregory Chase.
Again.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,”
Mom says with a gleam in her eye.

Grandpa Frank shuffles toward me with
an envelope gripped tight in his hand and a grin on his face. “Your
mother’s right, my boy.”

I take the envelope, worried my entire
family has lost it. “What’s this?” I question, flipping over the
envelope and seeing it’s addressed to me from our insurance
company.

Insurance money? I shake my head. Of
course. I’d been so worried about Andrew, and upset over losing
Ashley, I hadn’t even considered I’d receive insurance money for my
car, which was completely totaled.

I’m not sure what this has to do with
Yale, but I’m thankful I won’t have to bum rides from Mom until I
leave for Boston.

Everyone is staring at me as I rip
open the envelope and pull out the light green check. The shock
must be apparent on my face by the laughter I hear around the room.
Although it’s hard to hear anything besides myself repeating the
amount of money I’m holding in my hand, over and over in my head.
Ninety. Eight. Thousand. Dollars.

“But…but how?” I stammer wide eyed at
Grandpa.

“That car was a fully
restored 1967 AC Shelby Cobra. I might be losing my mind, but I’m
not crazy.” Grandpa chuckles. “You don’t really believe I’d give a
race car to a teenager and not insure him
and
the car to the
fullest?”

I’m not sure
what
to believe right
now.

I shake my head, staring at the check
in my hand. I knew the car was valuable in its original condition,
but we found it at the junk yard and restored it ourselves. I never
considered it was anywhere near this much. I’m not sure I would
have driven it if I did.

“Well, come on now, let’s celebrate
already,” Irene says, causing me to finally tear my eyes away from
the check.

“Celebrate?” I say, looking up at her
standing in the entryway to the kitchen holding a bottle of
sparkling apple cider in one hand and a cake knife in the other, a
huge grin on her face.

I glance at Mom and Sam, standing next
to the balloons, and I don’t think I’ve seen her so happy in my
life, she looks on the verge of tears. The good kind. I turn to
Grandpa Frank and see nothing but pride bursting out of every hard
earned wrinkle on his face he’s smiling so big.

Everyone’s looking at me like they’re
waiting for me to join the party, but I feel like my invitation
must have gotten lost in the mail.

“Yale or bust, right, kiddo?” Grandpa
says, and it’s not until that very second that it all
clicks.

“I can afford Yale,” I choke out. “I.
Can. Afford. Yale.”

“You can afford Yale,” Grandpa
replies, patting me on the shoulder, the tears in my mom’s eyes
finally pouring over.

I look at all their smiling faces and
then at the check in my shaking hand, completely overwhelmed by
their love and support.

“I…I can’t take this,” I say softly,
stopping everyone in their tracks.

“Lane, don’t be silly.” Mom waves
dismissively. “Come eat some cake, and then you need to start
packing,” she says, joy dripping off each word.

I shake my head. “No, I’m serious. I
can’t. This money belongs to you and Grandpa. You paid the
insurance and Grandpa started restoring that car before I knew the
difference between a lug wrench and a lug nut. I can’t take it. It
would help out here too much.” I know I’m right and so do
they.

Grandpa gives Mom a quick look before
scuffing his feet across the linoleum in our entrance way. He takes
his cardigan from the peg, slips it on, and opens the door. “Come
on outside and let’s have a talk, okay?”

“Grandpa…”

“Come on,” he says, ushering me
outside to the front porch. I help him take a seat in one of our
white washed Adirondack chairs before leaning against the porch
railing and crossing my arms.

“Grandpa, I can’t take the money.” I’m
firm. Decided. It’s too much and he and Mom need it.

He squints up at me so I
move to block the early evening sun from his eyes. “My boy, you’re
not
taking
the
money, the money is yours.”

“But Grandpa that money could really
help out around here. You and Mom wouldn’t have to worry about the
bills, and you could even put in that guest bathroom for Irene
we’re always talking about.”

“Come sit.” He reaches over and pats
the chair next to him.

When I do he leans his body forward,
and takes my hands in his. “Lane, I want you to listen close to me.
Okay? You are going to take this money and go to that school and
have the best four years of your life.”

“But…” I start then stop when he gives
my hand a firm squeeze.

“No buts, mister. Now listen. Look at
me Lane, I’m nothing but an old man whose body is sluggish and
whose mind is slowly, but surely, losing the most precious gift we
have in this life. Our memories.” He takes a shallow breath and his
gaze is unfocused for a brief moment, like he’s searching for the
very memories that have seemed to slip away.

He clears his throat then waves his
hand around, gesturing to the house. “You could insist we use that
money for doctor bills and house renovations, Lane, but let me tell
you something,” he says, and there’s an edge of seriousness in his
otherwise easygoing tone. “I’m not missing the money I did or
didn’t have in this life.”

His eyes brighten and a slow smile
spreads across his face, and it reminds me of the way he use to
smile at my grandma when she was still alive. “I promise you, a
thousand guest bathrooms in a mansion on the water, wouldn’t be
worth a single penny if I didn’t have the memory of my first date
with your grandma, or the smell of your mother’s tiny peach fuzz
head when we brought her home from the hospital, or the memories I
have of us, spending our afternoons working on that car
together.

Lane, I know you want to look out for
me and your mom, but that’s our job. This is your money, and trust
me, it will provide you with so much more than just a path to a
brighter future—it’ll also afford you with memories that’ll last a
life time.” His eyes fill with tears and I have to choke back my
own. “So, no more buts about it,” he says sternly, shaking a finger
at me, as a small tear rolls down his smiling face. “You, my boy,
are going to go to that school, have the time of your life and make
me the proudest, richest man on this very island.”