Daughter of Light

  She paused. “Yes. In a world where there is such little permanence and commitment, I imagine I’m a bit of a relic.”

  I paused and smiled. “That can’t be true for a city like Quincy that has held on to its history so dearly. I haven’t been anywhere that has such a sense of the permanent.”

  She almost smiled, too, but settled for a short nod to illustrate that she liked my answer. When we arrived at the den, she nodded and continued on. Liam was standing in front of the bar. He turned quickly when I entered.

  “Wow, you make casual look like elegant,” he said, rushing over to kiss me on the cheek.

  “Thank you.”

  “A glass of wine, maybe?”

  “Yes, white. Do you have a Chardonnay?”

  “Do we have a Chardonnay?” He opened the glass door of the wall wine cooler to show me what looked like more than a hundred different bottles. “And one from California, too. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

  He put it on the bar. I had heard of it.

  “It’s good.”

  He began to open the bottle, keeping his eyes on me.

  “What?” I said.

  “I can’t help staring at you. I hope you don’t mind. Trying to get me to stop is hopeless, anyway.”

  “As long as you don’t do it while you’re driving,” I said.

  “Yes.” He popped the cork. “I’m glad you’re all right. Is that what he was doing at the time?”

  “No. Something else distracted him.”

  “The imaginary old man?” he asked as he poured my glass.

  “How do you know about that?”

  “It’s a small town. No. I was interested in everything about you from the first moment I saw you.”

  I sipped the wine and walked around the den, looking at the paintings and at the case of DVDs and CDs. Again, it looked like hundreds. I browsed the bookcases, too. I could feel Liam’s eyes on me constantly. There was a white faux-fur area rug between the two settees that faced each other. I knelt down to run the palm of my hand over it.

  “How cozy. It’s so white that it’s intimidating. I’m afraid to walk on it.”

  He laughed. “Mrs. Wakefield used to make me take off my shoes first whenever I entered the house. When I complained, she would tell me I was lucky she didn’t make me take off all my clothes, too.”

  “Oh?”

  “Just her way of making me grateful that it was all she demanded,” he said, shaking his head. “No dirty thoughts, please.”

  “Moi? Never.”

  He laughed, and I came around and sat on a bar stool.

  “You saved my life, you know,” he said, leaning over to get closer to me.

  “What? How?”

  “If you hadn’t said yes to my invitation to spend the day with me, I would have drowned myself.”

  I laughed, but I couldn’t help wondering if there would be a time, and soon, when I would have to think about saving his life.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t left a line of broken hearts back in California, where the preferred method of suicide is surfing.”

  “You’re very funny, but no, I have not left a line of broken hearts trailing.”

  “Must be at least one.”

  “Let’s talk about something else,” I said. “Where are we going?”

  “This great little Italian place, DiBona’s. It’s a true family-owned restaurant. Alberto DiBona cooks everything. His wife, Francesca, helps, but she’s more like the hostess, and they have two daughters and a son who work as the waitstaff. I think there’s a nephew in there, too. For some people, family is still a very big thing,” he said, and bit down on his lip. “Sorry. I keep forgetting about your own situation.”

  “Yours doesn’t exactly fit on Christmas cards, either,” I said.

  He nodded.

  We heard some voices in the hallway.

  “My father, unbeknownst to either Julia or myself, had started dating again. He’s seeing Kelly Burnett, the administrator at the hospital. I promised we would stay long enough to have one drink with them and meet her. She’s been divorced for a few years and is only seven years younger,” he finished in a whisper as they entered the den.

  Kelly Burnett was as tall as Ken Dolan. She was svelte in a stylish black three-quarter-sleeve dress with an elegantly paneled bodice. She wore her dark brown hair parted in the middle and shoulder-length. Dark-complexioned, with intelligent ebony eyes and firm, feminine lips, she reminded me of my older sister Brianna, especially the way she fixed her gaze on someone. I could almost hear her thoughts rolling through quick impressions.

  “Liam, Lorelei, I’d like you to meet Kelly Burnett.”

  “Hi,” she said, holding her hand out for Liam first. He took it and smiled. Then she turned to me and said, “Enchanté,” as if she expected that I spoke French. It was almost a challenge.

  “Oui, je suis heureuse de vous rencontrer,” I said.

  Her eyes widened, Ken’s smile exploded, and Liam looked at me as if he had just first set eyes on me.

  “I really don’t speak French,” Kelly said, laughing. “I just like the way they greet each other. What did you say?”

  “Yes, pleased to meet you,” I told her, and shrugged. “What else would I say?”

  “You speak French?” Liam asked.

  “I’ve had some lessons,” I said.

  “Well, I’m impressed,” Kelly said. “I understand you were in my hospital recently, unfortunately.”

  “Yes, a car accident. Julia took good care of me,” I said.

  “So, you’re all right?”

  “Fine, thank you.”

  “Chardonnay?” Liam offered her.

  “Thank you, yes,” she said.

  Mr. Dolan sat beside her at the bar and looked at both Liam and me with pleasure. Liam knew his drink, a Scotch and water, and prepared it.

  “I’m sorry you’re not having dinner with us,” Kelly said.

  “It’s a date we made in advance,” Liam explained, and winked. “We’re just getting to know each other ourselves. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Yes, of course,” Kelly said. “Perhaps another time.”

  “We’ll know after tonight,” Liam joked.

  “Where are you going?” Mr. Dolan asked, and Liam told him.

  “Good choice. I’ll have to take you there one night,” he told Kelly.

  “You’re staying at the Winston House?” she asked me.

  “For now, yes.”

  “Thanks to my great-auntie Amelia, I discovered her,” Liam said.

  “Sounds like something meant to happen,” Kelly Burnett said, and raised her glass. “To destiny. Hopefully good for us all.”

  We clinked glasses and drank.

  “How long have you been at the hospital?” I asked her.

  “Two years this coming December. I’m sure you’ll find Quincy a very nice place to start a new life,” she added. I glanced at Mr. Dolan. How much had he told her about me? I wondered.

  “I agree,” I said. I could sense how much she wanted to ask me questions about my background, but I also sensed that Mr. Dolan had told her to hold off on that.

  “I think we have to get started,” Liam said, finishing his drink. I finished mine, too. “It’s a small restaurant, and they might not hold the table if we’re very late. Besides, I promised Lorelei we’d have an early night. You guys have a great time.”

  He came around the bar quickly, took my glass, and put it on the bar before taking my hand.

  “Just be careful out there,” his father said. “You’re carrying a precious company asset.”

  We laughed.

  “As long as you don’t think of me as an elbow joint,” I said, and everyone laughed again.

  We started out.

  “I feel guilty not staying for dinner,” I told Liam.

  He leaned over as we entered the hallway to whisper, “I’m not sharing you with anyone just yet.”

  He kissed me on the cheek and hurried me ou
t to his car, as if we were making some sort of escape. I looked back at the house. We hadn’t closed the front door properly, I guessed. Mrs. Wakefield was there looking out at us. She closed the door, shaking her head as she did so, like someone who believed we would come to no good.

  I was able to put all dark thoughts out of my mind once we were in the small restaurant, cozily seated in a red imitation-leather booth with Italian sopranos singing through the wall speakers and the warm, friendly family atmosphere hovering around us. All around us were pictures of small Italian villages, some on the sea and some in areas like Tuscany. On one wall were shelves of wines on display, and on another wall were what I assumed to be actual old photographs of family, some obviously taken in Italy. The owners were very happy to see Liam. Apparently, he had not been there for some time.

  “I thought this was your favorite restaurant,” I said when Francesca left us. “You made it sound like you’re here very often.”

  He looked guilty for a moment and then smiled and said, “The kind of girls I was with recently wouldn’t have appreciated this.”

  “How did you know I would?”

  “We both have a longing for family,” he replied. “This feels like someone’s home dining room and kitchen. Smell the garlic?”

  I smiled. Daddy used to enjoy making fun of the idea that garlic would be dangerous.

  “Think I’m funny?”

  “No, you’re right,” I said, looking around. “I was just thinking about something someone once said about garlic.”

  “I’ve got a lot to learn about you, Lorelei Patio, but I don’t mind how long it will take if you don’t mind.”

  “Let’s—”

  “Take it a step at a time. I know,” he said. “For now, that means ordering a bottle of Chianti and something to eat.”

  It was a great dinner, one I was sure Mrs. Fennel would disapprove of, especially when we were served homemade tiramisu. The owners treated us to a glass of limoncello. The other customers were naturally curious about us because of all the attention we were getting.

  During the meal, Liam was more forthcoming about his youth, growing up without his mother, and how distant he felt from his father.

  “It was almost as if he was blaming my mother’s desertion on us, or me,” he said. “Like if I hadn’t been born, she wouldn’t have had the right to leave or something.”

  “That makes no sense, and you know it,” I said. “More likely the things you heard, what you saw, and how it all made you feel fed your own anger and poor self-image.”

  “Me? Poor self-image? From what my father and Mrs. Wakefield say, you’d think I was a walking egotist.”

  “That’s all show,” I said.

  The way he looked at me made me wonder for a moment if he was growing angry. Was his male ego damaged? Did he think I was putting him down? Was I too truthful about what I saw?

  “Do you care to explain that, please?”

  I shrugged, trying to make it seem simple. “You didn’t do poorly in school and college because you’re not up to the challenges, Liam. Sometimes we feel the need to live up to the impressions people have of us, to shove it back into their faces . . . defiance born of an inner rage that seems far beyond our control.”

  “Our? What about you?”

  “In my way, I wasn’t much different. I suppose we’re both trying to escape ourselves or what we think we are.”

  He crinkled his eyebrows and shook his head. “You’re right in front of me,” he said. “I can reach out and touch you. I’ve kissed you, held you, but most of the time, it’s almost as if you’re not really there. You’re an image or like a virtual you.”

  “It takes time,” I said, hoping I was right. “Sometimes the time it takes is too much and it’s easier to give up.”

  “Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head emphatically. “Don’t even think it. I’m in for the long haul.”

  He finished his limoncello as a toast, and I smiled. Liam came with his own personal baggage, I thought. Any relationship I would dream of having with any man was going to be hard enough. Was I foolish for even thinking of starting one with him? Maybe not, I thought. Maybe my spending more time on building him up would help me worry less about myself.

  Francesca came over to give me a hug good night and then hugged Liam, shaking her finger at him for staying away so long. He promised he wouldn’t do it again, and we left holding hands.

  “They’re delightful,” I said. “You were right. It is like eating with family. Thank you for thinking of it for me.”

  We got into the car.

  “Do I have to keep my promise?” he asked.

  “Early night?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m afraid so,” I said.

  “Okay, okay.”

  “But there’ll be times when we won’t worry about the clock so much, I hope.”

  He looked as if he would explode with happiness. “Can I pick you up in the morning?”

  “It’s out of your way.”

  “There is no way,” he said, punctuating each word hard, “that you will ever, ever be out of my way.”

  “Okay,” I said, laughing. “But people will talk.”

  “You mean Great-auntie Amelia?”

  “And Mrs. McGruder.”

  “I’m sure they’ve been talking about us all night,” he said.

  When we arrived at the Winston House, we sat and talked a little more about his family. I saw how much he loved Julia. At times, he spoke about her as if she had been his mother, always looking after him, always more disappointed than anyone for his failures and mistakes.

  “You’re lucky to have her,” I said.

  “You didn’t have any brothers or sisters?”

  “No,” I said. I wondered, if we did see each other steadily, whether he would begin to know when I wasn’t telling the truth. My sisters had always been confident in their ability to handle any man, twist and turn him whatever way they wanted, and get him to believe whatever they wanted. When I was very young, I had witnessed Brianna bringing home her catch. I had even overheard some of the lies she told, and I had seen how easily the man had accepted them as the truth.

  “They want to believe what we tell them,” Ava once said. “They don’t want to do anything to endanger their fantasy and their ultimate success. No one fools himself more than a man does when it comes to the woman he wants.”

  The implication had been clear: I, too, would have all of this power.

  But did I want it?

  Liam and I kissed good night, softly, lovingly. He touched my hair and looked into my eyes as he stroked my cheek.

  “Okay,” he said. “I have you memorized. I’ll fall asleep with your face on the inside of my eyelids.”

  “Good night,” I whispered.

  “I’ll be right here at seven forty-five.”

  I stood watching him drive off. When he was gone, I turned to walk to the front door.

  I was halfway there when she stepped out of the shadows.

  16

  “What the hell do you think you are doing?” Ava asked.

  When I was a little girl, Ava could frighten me with her angry words, said so sternly that I would feel my spine shake. She could send a chill through my chest and into my heart, as if I had gulped a glass of ice water. I remember that even my lips felt numb.

  It was as if I were a little girl again. I stood there frozen, unable to speak. She was wearing a black velvet hooded jacket and tight black jeans. Her face caught in the lighted door lamps had a yellowish glow, with her eyes like two burning coals. I glanced around nervously, anticipating Daddy, but there was no one but her. She had started to take a step toward me when Jim Lamb pulled up to the curb in front of the Winston House. Seeing me just outside the door, he tapped his horn and leaped out of his car.

  Ava stepped back into the shadows when I turned to him.

  “Hi,” he called. “Great coincidence. Come here and take a look at the good job they did on my c
ar.”

  When I looked back at Ava, I saw she was gone. She had slipped farther into the shadows and glided through the pockets of darkness. Jim stood in front of his car, his hands on his hips, looking at the repair job and waiting for me. Still trembling, I walked toward him.

  “I was at a movie with one of the guys who teaches at my school. Terrific little film. Won’t make any money, though. So?” he said, nodding toward the car. “What do you think?”

  “You’d never know anything had happened to it,” I said, looking back nervously for Ava. She wasn’t there.

  “Exactly. Something wrong?” he asked, noticing how I was searching the darkness.

  “No. No. Everything’s fine.”

  “Good. So, how was your day?”

  I turned again toward the house but perused the lawn and the houses nearby, searching for Ava’s dark silhouette. I didn’t see her, and for a moment, I questioned whether I actually had seen her. Could I have imagined it, imagined the conversation? What made me question it was my belief that Ava was not one to retreat, especially from a young man like Jim Lamb. Why wouldn’t she have put me in an embarrassing position by trying to explain who she was? Why wouldn’t she have used the occasion to ruin my stay here? Why else would she have followed me?

  “What? Oh. Very nice,” I said, realizing that Jim was waiting for an answer. I started for the front door again, walking gingerly, my eyes panning every possible nook and cranny in the darkness where Ava might be hovering. Jim walked alongside me.

  “Did you hear that there’s a new tenant coming tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Sounds like an interesting fellow. Our dinner table could use some new conversation.”

  He lunged forward to open the door for me.

  “Thank you,” I said, and entered.

  The house was quiet, but I couldn’t believe Mrs. Winston would have gone to sleep without first seeing what my day with her great-nephew was like. Sure enough, she stepped out of the living room with a book in her hand.

  “Well, now,” she said, surprised that we were entering together. “Where did you two meet?”

  “Right outside. Just a coincidence,” Jim said, a little sadly.