Lilies and Lies (9 page)

“I know what you mean.”

They started down the boulevard, and, without discussing it, bypassed Gunnar's truck to continue strolling along the river walk. Moonlight spilled over dark water that lapped along the rocky bank in a serenade of gentle rivulets. “When I came back here last month, Mom thought I'd move in with her. But I wanted my own place, so I rented a small apartment. I had roommates all through college, so it's the first time I've ever really lived alone. The first week or so was kind of tough, but I've adjusted. Of course, every night during those first few weeks either Wyatt or Reese dropped by to check on me. That's not the reason they gave…either they needed to
borrow
”—she embellished with air quotes—“something or share information pertaining to work. But I knew the real reason.”

“They're good guys. You're fortunate. I'll bet they take after your dad when it comes to protecting family.” Gunnar took Maddie's hand and she twined her fingers with his as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He took that as a good sign and breathed a slight sigh of relief. Her fingers were warm, delicate, and he imagined them coaxing new life into an ailing plant, urging a seedling to grow tall and strong.

“Yeah, but don't discount my mom—she can be a real bear when the need arises. My brothers look more like her, with their dark hair and eyes, while I got more of my dad's side of the family in the looks department. I never tan, no matter how hard I try or how long I stay out in the sun. I just…turn red as a lobster in a pot of boiling water and then the freckles break out. Ugh. It's weird to be so opposite, isn't it?”

“I'll admit it's interesting, but I wouldn't say weird. I like the blush of color, and I promise you don't look anything like a lobster.” Gunnar punctuated the thought with a gentle skim of his knuckles along her jawline as the breeze lifted her hair in swirls of writhing flames. “You have a nice family…a strong family. I've never had that. It makes me wonder…”

“What?”

“If I'd make a good husband, a good father…if I even have it in me to one day travel along that path.” He shrugged. “I don't even know why I'm thinking about that now…here. It's crazy.”

“I don't think it's crazy at all. You have Kyle, and that changes everything. That's sort of like being a father. And I'd say you've proven yourself with him. I've never seen anyone as patient or loving with a child, especially a teenager—well, almost teenager. And, by all accounts, those are the toughest years. He adores you, Gunnar. He wants to be like you in every way.”

“Not every way.” Gunnar shook his head. “I should tell you, Maddie, what I didn't last time you asked…about all of me.”

“You don't have to do that, Gunnar.” Her gaze drifted away for the slightest moment to stare over the water. “We all have a past…some more vivid than others. That's part of our uniqueness. Where you've been, the mistakes you've made…they don't matter to me. They won't change how I feel…how I'm beginning to feel…about you.”

“And how is that?”

“Like a Stargazer warmed by the sun.” Maddie pressed a palm to his cheek. “It's weird…I mean, not
that
kind of weird, the bad kind…but I've never felt like this before. I'm not sure—”

Gunnar silenced her with a kiss. Her lips, warm and supple, softened to his as he splayed a hand along her back to draw her closer. The breeze played with her hair, and loose strands danced across his cheek as he pulled back, breathless. “Are you sure now, Maddie?”

“I'm…” She pressed a finger to her lips. “Gunnar…”

“Let's sit down, talk this out.”

A wrought iron bench faced the river and, at his bidding, Maddie settled into it. He joined her, and for a few minutes they simply sat together watching moonlight shimmer across the water like a wedding veil. Maddie's hand felt good as she twined her fingers with his, and Gunnar was loath to spoil the moment by spilling his past. But he cared about her too much not to; the kiss they'd just shared spoke volumes to that.

He lifted his fingers to her chin, drew her gaze from the water to him. Slowly, choosing his words carefully, he spoke.

“I was a different person back then, Maddie…like a snake needing to shed its skin. I was stuck in a tight place, angry and reckless with a sense of hopelessness that was buried deep inside me. Years of living in turmoil, of not knowing from day to day…sometimes hour to hour and even moment to moment, if the world would just come crashing down around me, around Morgan. We walked on eggshells, at once hoping our stepfather—Carl—wouldn't make it home at night but knowing if he didn't, we might very well end up on the street. Mom hadn't worked since soon after they married—he kept her on a short leash and there was nothing we could do about it. I tried to pitch in with the bills, but my job helping out at the local mechanic's shop didn't pay much. The constant worry made me numb inside, restless as a caged animal.

“One night my…Carl came home so loaded I'm not sure how he managed to find his way across town. He laid into Mom just because he could, and this time she fought back. It was ugly…both of them slinging accusations at each other, screaming. I couldn't stand it…couldn't listen to him call her names, hurt her, any longer, and watch her finally break down and cry as his anger escalated. He was so much bigger than her and no matter what, a man should never…”

Gunnar shook his head, his right fist clenching in response to the memory. Temper, raw and hot, boiled to the surface. ”I stepped between them, tried to protect Mom, and the next thing I knew Carl took a swing at
me
. I grabbed his shirt, shoved him so he stumbled across the room. The window facing the street shattered and suddenly a rush of snow poured through the broken glass. The cold made everything inside—and everyone—seem to move in slow motion. When the haze cleared, I saw the old man sprawled across the window pane, moaning. Whether from the booze or from hitting his head, well, my guess is it was a combination of both. Relief and rage merged inside me, and I reached for the phone to call the police. Maybe this time, they'd haul him off for good. Surely after this, Mom would never let him back in the house, no matter how much he threatened…or promised to change. Maybe it would finally end right here—right now.”

Gunnar could hardly bear to think of what came next.

“I was punching in the numbers when Mom grabbed the phone from my hand and threw it out the window…right through the shattered glass so it landed in the snow. ‘What have you done, Gunnar?' She ran to Carl with this look of utter horror on her face. Her lip was bleeding and her eye was puffy and shadowed from his blows. Yet, she threw her arms around him, trying to wake him as she started to sob. It was beyond belief, watching her tug him from the window ledge, bleeding and broken herself, to stretch him along the snow-covered carpet. The look she tossed my way when he continued to just lay there was like none I've ever seen…so accusing. I couldn't…I just couldn't make sense of it. Why wouldn't she just let him go?”

“She must have had her reasons, Gunnar.” Maddie's gentle voice brought a measure of calm to the emotions ripping through him. “Maybe she was scared, too…scared of being alone, scared of losing her home.”

“It wasn't a home…not like that. But maybe you have a point…I don't know. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.” Gunnar squeezed her hand. “Anyway, that night something inside me snapped. I grabbed the old man's car keys from the carpet, where they'd slipped from his pocket, and stalked off. Morgan ran after me, begging me to take him with; he'd witnessed the whole thing and didn't want to be left alone at the house. Charlene was already long gone by this time, moved away to Knoxville and pregnant with Kyle. My arm was bleeding like crazy from where I'd sliced it along the window glass. I guess I was in shock, because I hadn't even noticed until Morgan pointed it out. I didn't even know where I was going, but I knew I had to get out of there. And I just couldn't say no Morgan, not when I knew he had to be feeling as sick inside as I was. So we climbed into the car together and drove through the snow like a sliding hockey puck on ice as we headed toward the main road. Looking back it was crazy to even try to navigate through the storm, but we were young and stupid. My only clear thought was that I wished Carl would just disappear…go away and never come back.”

“Oh, Gunnar…you were young and hurting. You didn't know what to feel.”

“I knew enough that I didn't want to return to the mêlée. Sure, when Carl sobered up he'd probably be sorry and fall all over himself making empty apologies and promises, and things would be good for a couple days, maybe even a week or two. But I'd seen the cycle enough to know he was a ticking time bomb—sober never lasted more than a handful of days for him, and then the chaos started all over again.

“Anyway, on my way home from work I'd noticed this abandoned old house in a pasture not too far from where we lived. It had caught fire that fall, was practically gutted but still standing. I guess the people who owned it were trying to figure out what to do with it. I don't know. I got this idea that Morgan and I could sleep things off there…wait for the dust to settle and plan our next move. Anything was better than going home right then, with things so out of control. Honestly, I didn't know how I'd ever go back there.

“Like I said before, Morgan was only eleven and he was completely freaked out, shivering from the cold and the way my arm was bleeding. He'd seen too many shows on TV and he was convinced I was going to die. So I found an old towel in the trunk of the car, wrapped my arm as best I could and then pulled up some of the house's floorboards, got a fire going in the rutted hearth. Smoke fanned over the room, almost thick enough to choke, but at least it was warm. We settled down along the floor, and I did my best to calm Morgan. Looking back, I realize it must have been so much harder for him, being the youngest. I can't imagine how frightened, how helpless, he must have felt that night.

“As my rage eased to a simmer uncertainty set in. I'd stolen Carl's car. When he emerged from his stupor he would surely come looking for it, and that could turn ugly—fast. Morgan started to whine. He was worried about Mom back at the house all alone with the old man, worried about the car that was now in our possession. He was cold, exhausted, and hungry and, I suppose, just tired of it all.”

“I guess I should have seen it coming. He'd just turned eleven—not even as old as Kyle is now—and it was all too much for him to handle. Instead of trying to ease his fears, I got angry. My nerves were frazzled, and I felt as if I'd stumbled into a pit there was no way out of. The harder Morgan cried, the more his whining fueled my temper. I was ugly to him, Maddie, so impatient. When his whines escalated to begging, I screamed at him to shut up, that we weren't going back and that we might never go back. He just cried harder and said if I wouldn't take him, then he'd find his way home on his own. He bolted from the house, took off across the snow-covered pasture.

“I lunged after him, shouting for him to come back. It was cold, dark, and he'd surely freeze to death before he made it back to the house, especially in tennis shoes, a T-shirt and jeans. Neither of us had thought to bring a jacket. I could barely see him as he plodded across the pasture, veiled in moonlight that reflected off the falling snow. He made it about two-hundred yards before I heard the sirens squealing. I didn't connect the dots at first, because I was bleeding pretty badly by then from the gash on my arm and things were sort of fading in and out. Then, a pair of cruisers turned the corner and started down the road that flanked the pasture. Their lights cut through the darkness and I suddenly realized…I just knew...”

“Oh my, Gunnar…then what?”

“I called to Morgan to turn around and come back but he just kept moving. He ran right toward the cruisers. He thought the police were going to help, and in a way, I suppose they did. But it tore us apart, what happened next.”

“What was it? What did the police do?”

“They took Morgan into protective services. There'd been other reports from his school, from the neighbors. I guess that night was the last straw.”

“And you?”

“I spent the night at the hospital, getting stitched up and interviewed. I was out of it and I just remember asking over and over again to see Morgan.”

“You were probably in shock, Gunnar.” Maddie linked her fingers with his, holding tight. “If you were bleeding that badly…”

“When the doctors released me, I was taken to a place—I guess you could call it a group home—in Nashville, where I spent the next few months, finishing school, until I turned eighteen. I tried to find Morgan, but it was like he dropped off the face of the earth. I took off, just went as far away as I could manage on the money I had, and tried to move on…until I got a call from Charlene out of the blue about six months later. Mom was…dead.”

“I headed home for the funeral, and Kyle was born just a week later. I was there…I saw him right after he was born. Things were better for a while, and I helped Charlene get back on her feet. Then one day she just up and left again. I didn't see Kyle until she dropped him on my doorstep. I'm still waiting for Morgan. Maybe, one day…”

 

 

 

 

9

 

Gunnar's voice remained with Maddie the next day, as she set a new shipment of Stargazers on display at the nursery while Reese unloaded them from a truck.

“I don't know if anyone who has ever been so broken can really ever be made whole again.”

Tears stung her eyes as she remembered the tone of Gunnar's voice…quiet, solemn as the memories flooded in to take him back to that dark place.

“My sister repeated the cycle of abuse…she's still repeating the cycle. It's painful to watch and to offer her help that she continually refuses to accept. At least I have Kyle. I think, for him, things can be so much better than they were for me, for Charlene…for Morgan. But I'm not sure that what I have to give him is enough…”