EIGHTEEN

She stills my mind and wakes my instincts—I’m falling.

Leelo

“He’s an asshole, Mom.”

I look at my son, agreement on my lips, but I keep the words from rolling off. For him. Because I won’t sabotage their relationship—not again. The last time I did that, it didn’t work out so well for me, and I seriously hurt my kids in the process.

I’d been angry with Matt when I finally saw his headlights pull into the parking lot at close to six o’clock this morning. Furious, actually, and terrified. I’d been trying to call him from the time I got off with his father. I didn’t get much useful information from David as to what happened, he was too busy raging at me. I ended up hanging up on him, in hopes Matt could explain, but he didn’t answer his phone the entire night.

Not like I could go to sleep after that phone call and without knowing how, or where the hell my son was.

So yeah, when he first walked in, I was ready to tear a strip off him, but then I saw his face. All I did was open my arms and let him cry on my shoulder.

We’re sitting on the dock, watching the sun come up with a cup of coffee. I’m going to have to get breakfast started soon, but my kid comes first.

“What happened, Bud?” I probe when Matt just stares out over the water.

“Last night was Dad’s surprise fiftieth birthday party,” he starts, dropping his eyes to the mug in his hands. “I overheard Dad say to someone that he was hoping to hand over the business to me in five years. I choked it back until everyone had left but, Mom, I had to say something. I don’t want that.” He looks up at me with tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to take over his business, his life. That’s not me.”

“I know, baby.” I put a comforting hand on his knee.

“We got into a big fight when I told him that. It was ugly, and by the end, Jess walked out and Gwen was crying, trying to smooth things over. But, Mom, he said and did some pretty fucking shitty things.”

“Oh, honey...” I reach for his face, but he twists away.

“Anyway,” he says, getting up. “I grabbed what I could off the lawn and got out of there. Been driving all night and I’m tired. I’m gonna crash.”

“Wait...” I call out when he starts walking down the dock. Something he said just registers. “Why was your stuff on the lawn?” I demand, getting to my feet.

Matt doesn’t stop, or answer, and I rush after him. Grabbing him by the arm, I repeat my question.

“Matt, why was your stuff on the lawn?”

He slowly turns to face me, and I can see the answer on his face even before he gives me the mumbled words.

“That’s where he threw them.”

With a sharp jerk of his arm, he slips out of my grip and continues inside. This time, although my heart hurts for him, I let him go.

-

Apparently rage can be very productive.

My first instinct had been to call the prick. Seemed like fair payback, calling him out of bed on a Saturday morning, when I know he likes to sleep in. Just like he knows I go to bed early most nights, but that didn’t stop him either when he woke me up last night.

Rather than to follow my usual pattern, to react first and think later, I’ve been in the kitchen mostly, feeding the guests who started drifting in for breakfast.

It’s after eleven now, and other than the Walters family, as well as the couple in unit three, everyone has already checked out. Matt is still sleeping upstairs, and to keep my head from exploding or making an already bad situation worse, I’ve baked.

Muffins, sausage rolls, apple turnovers—my entire stainless steel island is covered with baked goods, and I’ve run out of eggs. Maybe I can borrow some off Roar; it’s closer than going into town.

At least that’s what I tell myself as I dial Jackson’s Point.

“Good morning, Jackson’s Point.”

Crap.

I didn’t even consider Patti being there, but of course she would be. It’s a busy day in the hospitality industry. At least it is for most.

“Hi,” I start hesitantly. “Is Roar there?”

“Who can I say is calling?”

I cringe. I was hoping she’d just hand over the phone, now I wish I hadn’t called. Eggs, such a lame excuse to hear a friendly voice.

“It’s Lilith Talbot. Whitefish Motel?” I add

“Yes, I remember,” she says, curtly. “Let me see if he’s available.”

“Thank y—” I start, but the sharp impact of the phone hitting a hard surface cuts me off. All right then.

I’m still waiting ten minutes later, wondering if I should just give it up, when a click on the line indicates a call waiting. Checking my call display, I make a snap decision.

“Hey, sweetie,” I greet Gwen, switching calls. “Matt is here. He’s safe. If that’s why you’re calling. He mentioned turning off his phone last night.”

“And he couldn’t call when he got there? Jesus, Mom—you could’ve picked up the phone too. I’ve been worried sick.”

I swallow down the accusatory tone; reminding myself she was scared, much like I was all night.

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m still trying to get a grip on what happened. Your father wasn’t very helpful when he called last night, and Matt just gave me some basics this morning, before crashing. He’s still sleeping.”

The sniffles on the other end of the line cut me to the core. Matt has always been the sensitive one of the two, but Gwen tends to keep her emotions tightly locked away. This is the second time in as many months I hear her crying.

“It was so ugly, Mom,” she finally says, using much the same words her brother did earlier this morning.

“So I gather,” I offer gently, ignoring the call-waiting click in my ear.

“Dad...he completely lost it. I’ve never heard him be so deliberately hurtful.” She pauses briefly before continuing. “Except perhaps with you,” she finishes softly.

“Right.” It’s all I can think of to say. It brings a lump to my throat because in all these years, this is the first time my daughter acknowledges her father may not have been perfect in his treatment of me. I don’t know why it matters so much, especially in this moment, but it does.

“Is Mattie okay?”

“Sad, I think. Exhausted for sure. He seemed a little shell-shocked, but I’m sure fatigue had something to do with that as well.”

“What are we going to do?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I immediately reply. “Nothing but listen and not get in the way of them working this out.”

“But, Mom—maybe if we could—”

“Trust me when I say this, sweetie, let them work it out. If you try and meddle in some way, it will just come back to bite you in the butt. If not from one, it’ll be from the other.”

She seems to be processing what I’m trying to tell her, because it takes her a while to speak.

“Is Matt going to stay?” she asks in a small voice.

“He’s welcome if he wants to, but I’m not going to put pressure on him, one way or another. He has to find his own way.”

“If he does, can I maybe come visit next month? I have some vacation time coming.”

“Of course,” I assure her. “Whether Matt is here or not, I would love for you to visit.”

Again I’m met with silence, but I wait it out despite another click on the line.

“Dad told Matt he’d never amount to anything on his own. That he was glad he had at least one child with half a brain.” I try to stifle the involuntary gasp, but Gwen doesn’t miss it. “I never knew how mean he could be.”

“Sorry, honey,” I tell my second child this morning. I can’t help feeling some responsibility, if only for not being able to shield my kids from their father’s brand of nasty.

“Can you ask Matt to call me? I’m home. I drove back to Toronto first thing this morning.”

“I will. As soon as he wakes up,” I promise.

After she hangs up, I ignore the state of my kitchen and slip out the side door and sit down on the porch steps, where a large maple provides welcome shade on an already hot day.

Roar

“Who was it?”

I wave the dead phone at her, whoever had been on the line had hung up by the time I picked up.

Patti looks up from where she’s filing away last week’s paperwork.

“Lilith Talbot.”

“Leelo?”

She shrugs her shoulders and returns her attention to the stack of bills, while I call back. No answer. I try again with the same result. Weird. My first thought is that something else has happened.

“Did she say why she was calling?”

Patti drops the stack of papers back down on the desk and whirls around.

“She didn’t exactly share,” she snaps, disbelief clear on her face. “Asshole,” she adds for good measure, before slamming the file drawer shut with a bang, and marching out of the office.

“Wait!” I hurry out, catching up with her outside. “I’m sorry that you’re pissed, but she’s over there alone. She’s had some really disturbing shit happen recently, and I’m worried.”

I catch a flash of guilt before she turns her eyes to the water, in the direction of the motel.

“I didn’t know,” she mumbles. “I left her waiting for a while before I called you.”

Fuck.

Without a word I dive back in the office, grab my keys and phone, before charging back outside.

“Gonna check on her. I’ve got my phone,” I tell Patti as I brush by her.

On the short trip over, my mind manages to conjure up one scenario after another, each more disturbing than the next. So by the time I walk into the bar and look toward the kitchen to see a wide set of shoulders about to disappear into her house beyond, I’m primed for a fight.

“Hey!” I yell, following him in, but I grind to a halt when I recognize her son, Matt.

“Hey,” he says, barely looking up as he sits down at the dining table and shoves half a sandwich in his mouth.

“Where’s your mom?”

“Don’t know. I just woke up.” He shrugs and turns his attention back to the plate in front of him. “She can’t be far,” he says, holding up a muffin. “This is still warm from the oven.”

I find her sitting on the porch steps, her arms wrapped around her knees.

“You okay?”

She looks up, surprised, as I lower myself on the step beside her.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, answering my question with a question.

“Checking on you. Wasn’t sure what I’d find, after you apparently hung up on me.”

“Oh shit.” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “I forgot. I’m so sorry,” she says, grabbing my arm. “It’s just...things have gone to hell in a handbasket since you left last night.” She blushes at the reference. When I left her last night, she was well and sated in her bed. I’d made sure of that.

“Anything to do with Matt being here?”

Leelo’s head drops down between her shoulders, and I automatically reach for her, sliding my hand up her back. Without thinking I start rubbing the tense muscles in her neck.

“Everything,” she sighs, before turning her face to me. “I’m sorry I hung up. I just wanted to talk to you when Gwen called, and...well, I kinda forgot to call back.”

“Wanna talk to me now?”

-

Part of me wants to drive eight hours, just so I can smack some sense into that asshole ex of hers, but I can’t. I have a business to run. So instead, I give Leelo a last hug and quick kiss, ignore the looks Matt throws me through the window, and head back to the lodge with the promise I’ll be by for a bite tonight.

After hearing the whole story, I can see why Matt was surly, but I’m already thinking ahead. The kid is good with his hands, and there sure as hell is enough work for him up here if he wants it.

The motel may be as good as done, but other than a bit of paint, nothing has been done to the house. There’s still the boat ramp Leelo wanted put in and plenty of other odds and ends to work on just here. Hell, I have a whole to-do list of things at the lodge I could use help with. And that’s just off the top of my head.

Between the motel and the lodge, we could keep him busy all summer. Give him a chance to find some steady ground under his feet, earn a bit of money. Who knows; maybe when folks get used to him around town, see the kind of work he does, he’ll have more jobs coming his way.

Something maybe to broach with him tonight, when he’s had a chance to get his bearings.

The afternoon flies by with only minor snags to resolve; a dripping tap in one of the units, a busted AC window unit in another. Nothing out of the ordinary, so when five thirty rolls around, after I just gave the last guests a tour of their cabin for the week, I get ready to head over to Leelo’s.

Patti left for home earlier. I’m pretty sure she avoided me this afternoon but fuck, I can’t exactly say I’m sorry about that. Don’t get me wrong, I feel bad she’s disappointed, but I don’t know how to fix that. There’s nothing I can say to make her feel better.

After a quick shower and change, and feeding Ace his dinner, I pull the door closed behind me, when my phone rings.

“Bill,” I answer, with a quick glance at my call display.

“Guess who I just ran into,” he jumps right in.

“I give up.”

“You’re no fun,” he chuckles. “Our favourite local real estate agent.”

“Thompson?”

“One and the same. Spotted him coming out of the tavern in town. He seemed a bit unstable when he got into his car, so I decided to pull him over. Point zero eight.”

“You screened him?”

“Hey, I observed the guy swaying with my own eyes,” he sputters. “Told him with that reading I could take him into the detachment to make sure he wasn’t over the limit. He seemed, for lack of a better word, a tad reluctant, so I offered him an alternative.”

“I bet you did,” I snort.

“Had a little chat, he and I. Oh, he did a good job of looking surprised when I mentioned the missing dock and the deer carcass. But when I pointed out how curious it was that both his boat and his car might have been spotted around the time of those incidents, I swear I could see him blanch under that fake tan of his.”

“You lied,” I conclude with a grin.

“Not at all,” he denies firmly. “He was seen driving off the motel property several times by several people, and his boat was spotted right where we found the dock.”

“Not necessarily on the same day, though,” I point out.

“Yeah...but he doesn’t know that.”

By the time I walk in, four of the tables are already occupied. The blackboard outside lists grilled chicken and pineapple kebabs, peanut sauce, and something called quinoa salad. I’m not sure about fruit with my meat, and I don’t have a fucking clue what quinoa salad is, but I’m willing to try anything Leelo puts in front of me.

I’m glad to see Matt is pulling his weight, serving drinks to a few tables before he spots me and walks over.

“Am I gonna like it?” I ask him, catching him off guard.

“Like what?”

“Whatever the fuck your mom has on the menu for tonight?”

I’m rewarded with a lopsided smile.

“It’s the bomb. You’ll love it,” he grins.

“Okay. I’ll take your word for it. I’ll have a Moosehead, if you have one cold?”

While he fetches my beer, I grab a plate and load up at the buffet. I try to peek into the kitchen, but don’t see Leelo.

“Where’s your mom?” I ask when Matt delivers my bottle.

“Back porch. Barbecuing the kebabs. I’m sure she won’t mind your company.” I look up from my plate at his words.

“Good to know,” I say cautiously. A whole lot was said with that single sentence, but it pays to make sure. “I like your mom.”

“Figured that when I was here last time, and it was kind of hard to miss when I saw you sucking face earlier. It’s cool,” he adds with a shrug. “She seems to like you, too.”

I don’t know the proper protocol here—not like I’m well-schooled in the whole dating thing, let alone dealing with kids in that mix—so I decide to go with my gut. I pick up my beer and plate and with a, “Thanks, man” to Matt; I head out back.

I’m greeted with a smile the moment I step out on the porch. One that stirs the blood in my veins.

“You’re back,” she says when I sit down on the steps, set my beer down, and take my first bite of chicken. It’s fucking delicious.

“You keep giving me more reasons to come back,” I tell her around my mouthful.

Her bright boisterous laugh settles warm in my chest.