LILY’S LIFE LESSON #9
Sometimes it’s the little things in life.
Trace had spent the past few days making runs to and from the mainland because the Cape’s only delivery company had decided not to deliver. Again. After the last run, he blew off steam at the vintage PAC-MAN machine in the back corner of the game room and waited for Ben. Meeting up after school for a game of pool was their father-son thing, and it wasn’t like Ben to miss it.
Megan had called while Trace was in flight. A good excuse to let it go to voice mail. The insistent message she’d left about Ben staying the summer in Los Angeles had Trace’s blood pressure spiked to stroke level, especially since their son’s welfare wasn’t her real concern.
Spence gave a victory shout from the other side of the room when he hit the bull’s-eye to beat Elliott at a game of darts. They came over and flanked Trace, each leaning against a machine.
“So how awkward is it with Lily?” Spence asked.
“Pretty darned.” Trace shifted and ran from a blue ghost. “Dad’s having her report to me. I’ve been busy making delivery runs, but I’ve got to make time to look at the new system she insists is good for the resort. Good thing is, I’ll know what changes she wants to make and can put a stop to anything that might upset Ben. Bad thing is-” He quieted. There were so many, he wasn’t sure which one took priority. He reversed the chomping yellow circle’s course and escaped certain death.
“You like her,” Spence finished Trace’s sentence.
“Bite me,” Trace said.
“Now see, that’s your problem, big brother.” Spence crossed his arms. “You’re asking me to bite you, when it’s Lily’s teeth marks you really want.”’
“Change the subject, or I’ll shave your head while you sleep like I did when we were kids.” He wasn’t going to take the chance of trusting the wrong person again and putting himself or Ben at risk. “And I never want to hear another one of your childish dares again.”
The PAC-MAN chewed up dots as Trace used the joystick to maneuver through the maze. Left then right, he gobbled up a power pellet and turned to face down a pink enemy ghost.
He secretly named it Megan.
“So we were in town at the Fallen Angel last night watching the fight over a beer.” Elliott hesitated. “We saw Megan’s commercial.”
Trace focused on the game, determined not to lose to the ghost that chased him. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?” He shook his head at the absurdity of his ex working as the spokesperson for an autistic charity.
“Uh, not that commercial.” Spence pulled at his Adam’s apple. That was never a good sign. “Apparently, she’s landed a network series.”
Trace’s head jerked around. “What?”
The spiraling sound of defeat caused him to turn a blank stare back on the game as the pink ghost chomped him to pieces.
Go figure.
Trace couldn’t let go of the joystick. His hold on it was so tight, it should’ve disintegrated in his hand.
“Her acting must’ve improved,” Elliott said. “I mean, it doesn’t seem like my kind of show, but it’s a big step up from the laxative commercial. At least Ben won’t be teased over it.”
Trace turned his back to the machine and leaned against it.
“I’ll google it for you.” Spence pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen. “Looks like Ben’s helping her career quite a bit.” He stared at the phone and both brows lifted.
“What?” Trace reached for the cell.
Spence held it out of reach. “I don’t think you want to see this.”
“I don’t think you want your ass kicked.” Trace held out his hand.
Spence leveled a serious look at him. “Fine, but I warned you.” He handed over the phone.
The list of Megan’s interviews and articles on entertainment sites was so long, Trace had to thumb through them. He tapped on an interview given by her agent and read the first paragraph. Lead actress of next season’s most anticipated new series, Megan Remington was discovered through her goodwill efforts to draw awareness to the same disability her son suffers from . . .
Steam billowed from his eye sockets.
He handed the cell back to Spence and pulled out his own phone. Without a word, he punched in Megan’s number.
“Hellooooow,” she answered with a new Garbo-esque accent.
Trace ground his teeth into dust. “Megan, how dare you use our son-”
“Dad!” Ben crashed through the door, barreling straight for Trace.
The desperate look on Ben’s face set off Trace’s instinctive parental alert. For his son’s sake, he curbed the lecture he was about to deliver Megan. “I’ll call you back,” he said into the phone.
“Trace-”
He hung up without letting her finish. He’d spent years playing the peacemaker so that the pain of her rejection wouldn’t completely destroy their son. Trace was done being the nice guy who covered for her lack of interest.
“What is it, buddy?” Trace shoved his phone in his pocket and held Ben’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
The way his chest heaved, he’d been running at full speed. “It’s Megan,” he panted.
Why did that not surprise him? Trace stiffened. “What about your mother?”
“No!” The panic in Ben’s voice rose. “Megan the duckie!” He hollered like Trace was dense for not knowing the difference. “She’s sick, and I was building a pen for them, but she wouldn’t eat and she hasn’t grown like the other duckies and Lily wanted to call her Molly, but Megan is her name . . . and . . .” His bottom lip puckered. “And . . .” A tear slid down his cheek.
Trace pulled his son into a hug. When Ben buried his face in Trace’s midsection, he gave his two brothers a concerned look. “Shhhh.” Trace swayed gently to match Ben’s rocking. “It’s okay.” Trace’s gut had told him not to keep the ducks, but he hadn’t listened.
Precisely why both the ducks and the women in his life should be kept at arm’s length.
“Duck?” Elliott mouthed.
“Named Megan?” Spence mouthed too.
Trace nodded and made the signal for Tell you later.
“I’ll go find Lily and check on the duck.” Trace stroked his son’s arms to help soothe his soaring anxiety.
Ben shook his head and sniffed. “Lily’s taking Megan to the doctor. I gave her the bicycle in the boathouse.”
What the hell? The only vet on the island was on the far side of Angel Fire Falls. “Lily is using a bicycle to take the duck to the vet?”
Ben swiped the back of his hand under his nose and sniffled. “Yeah. She said she’d pedal fast.”
Spence let out a snort of laughter but tried to hide it behind a cough.
Trace’s eyes flitted between Ben and the pool table, and his brothers got the message.
Spence ruffled Ben’s hair. “I just beat Uncle Elliott at darts. How about we make it a trouncing defeat and you wipe the floor with him at pool?”
Ben swiped another tear away, but his countenance brightened, and he ran to the table. “I’ll break.”
Trace dropped his voice and said to Spence, “I have an evening tour scheduled. Can you find the guests and reschedule for me?”
“On it,” Spence said.
Trace nodded a thank-you to his brothers and left Ben in good hands. He headed straight for the garage. Since he’d already been around the block with Lily Barns and her apparent obsession with traveling across the island using pedal-powered transportation, he searched the garage for a few bungee cords to strap the bicycle to the roof. He fired up a Jeep and kicked up dust as he backed out.
It didn’t take long until she came into view. He slowed as he came up behind her. Her slender torso was bent over the handlebars, and she pedaled with the same determination as that first day when she’d arrived on the island. He’d allowed this woman to get under his thick skin and into his overactive imagination from the very first moment he’d heard her moan.
He passed her and pulled off the road, trying hard to compose his emotions. She didn’t have kids. She didn’t understand what it was like to be disappointed and abandoned by a parent the way Megan had abandoned Ben. Trace had warned Lily about the ducks, but she likely didn’t have experience with Asperger’s and couldn’t have known how much damage they could cause.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d made similar excuses for Megan since Ben was born.
He opened his eyes and looked into the rearview mirror as Lily slowed, her silky brown hair blowing every which way in the breeze. He got out of the Jeep, went around the back, and crossed his arms as she pulled to a stop in front of him.
Her big brown eyes rounded, and the bike wobbled. She steadied it by putting her feet on the ground, and then she leaned forward to look in the basket.
Trace squinted up at the thunderclouds. “Really?”
“I, um . . . yeah.” She tucked a lock of hair behind one ear, the tremor of her hand barely visible.
“You couldn’t just ask for a ride like a normal person?” He peered into the basket at the little bird nesting in a knit cap.
“I knew you’d be pissed and worried about Ben, so I decided to handle it myself. I don’t want Ben to be hurt either.”
She cared that much about his feelings? His kid’s feelings? No woman on the planet had shown that much concern over him or Ben. Certainly not his ex. Not even Trace’s mom, who’d been careless enough to go out for a boat ride without a life vest, even knowing she couldn’t swim very well. Knowing she had three young boys who needed her.
Leaving Trace to feel responsible for his younger brothers.
“And you thought the best solution was to carry a sick bird all the way into town on this old bicycle?” His mom’s old bike. “It’s so ancient, it could’ve throw a chain or gotten a flat.” Trace picked the bird up in its cap with a slow, steady hand.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just wanted to get to the vet because he’s staying open just to see Meg-”
Trace couldn’t stop a scowl, which made Lily go quiet. He couldn’t blame her for the name. That was Ben’s doing, but it scratched at his ears like sandpaper anyway.
“The vet’s waiting,” Lily said.
“Get in.” He handed her the duck and grabbed the handlebars. “I’ve got the bike.” He had it strapped to the roof before she could get in the passenger seat. They were moving as soon as her door closed. “Do me a favor?”
“Okay.” Her voice was small.
“If you like leisurely bike rides, go for it. But when it’s really important, ask someone at the resort to drive you. We don’t mind.”
“Thanks. Sorry. I just like taking care of myself.”
Understandable. And admirable. “Then I’ll fly you to the Cape soon so you can get your license renewed.”
She coughed and put a hand to her chest. “It’s not a priority. I’ll be sure to ask for a ride until I can make a trip to the mainland.”
Something in her tone, her posture, her expression changed.
Call it instinct, but for the second time that day Trace’s blood pressure spiked.
Lily explained the whole story to the vet, starting with how she’d found the orphaned ducks on the road. Dr. Shaw was old, but he had a kind demeanor and a gentle touch with the duckling. He examined the tiny bird on a metal table in a private exam room.
“Will Megan live?” Lily used the duck’s name since Trace was in the waiting room calling the resort to let Ben know they’d made it to the vet.
“It seems you have a lame duck on your hands.” Dr. Shaw smiled. “It’ll be fine with a little extra care.”
Lily sagged against the exam table. Ben wouldn’t be heartsick, and her boss wouldn’t hate her for causing his son grief. She jumped when the door to the exam room opened, and Trace stepped inside.
“Ah, there’s the proud father,” Dr. Shaw said. “Good to have both parents present when we discuss their baby.”
A deafening silence filled the room.
Trace stuffed his phone in the front pocket of his denim jacket. “We’re not together.”
Lily cleared her throat. “I work at the Remington. Trace gave me a ride.”
Dr. Shaw eyed them. “I see.” He retrieved a small bottle from the cabinet in the corner and handed it to Lily. “Ducks have fragile legs. Occasionally, they can strain a muscle, which makes it hard for them to move around.” He bundled Megan into the cap again. “You said there’s ten ducks in the brood?”
“The weakened leg is preventing it from fighting its way to the food trough,” the vet explained. “It’s likely getting pushed out by the stronger ducks. Keep feeding it separately.” He nodded to the small bottle in Lily’s hand. “Don’t feed them bread. Add the niacin to their drinking water. It’ll strengthen the muscles and help the strain heal quicker. A therapeutic swim in shallow water for exercise will do wonders. Toddler swimming pools work well if you have one.” He scooped up the duck in the cap and handed her over to Lily. “A bigger problem is the wing.” He pointed to one side of the duck. “It’s a little smaller than the other, which means it may never fly. Only time will tell.”
“Thank you for seeing her after hours.” Lily cradled Megan.
“You’re welcome.” Dr. Shaw took off his latex gloves with a snap. “The visit’s on the house. Least I can do for you trying to save them. And one more thing.”
Both Lily and Trace waited for him to finish.
Dr. Shaw nodded to the duckling. “Megan is a he.”
Trace stared at the duck, then lifted his gaze to Lily. A slow smile formed on his lips, and creases of happiness appeared around his eyes. His hearty laugh echoed through the empty clinic and filled Lily’s chest with satisfaction. It was the first time she’d heard Trace laugh. Really laugh, like the seriousness that came from carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders had lifted and he could finally let himself experience real joy . . . and from such a simple thing.
His laugh was contagious, and she belted out a chuckle too.
The moment was comfortable. Easy. And Lily’s smile was no longer forced. Trace’s laughter made her feel at home for the first time since she stepped off the ferry.
Sometimes it was the little things in life that made the biggest impact.
Lily glanced at Dr. Shaw and did a double take, her laughter coming to a sputtering halt.
The vet’s questioning sure-you’re-not-a-couple look reminded Lily that the warm, hearty laughter that had her feeling like maybe she belonged in Angel Fire Falls came from the one person who could bring her new job, her new home, and her new life crashing down around her if she wasn’t careful.
Trace’s laughter died out too. They said their goodbyes to Dr. Shaw. Outside, a hint of purple lingered on the horizon. Trace opened the Jeep door for her, and Lily climbed into the passenger seat. He didn’t close it. Instead, he kept one hand on the doorframe and glanced off into the distance.
Lily cradled the duckling at her chest. “Thank you.”
His head swiveled back to her. “For what?”
“For the ride.” Lily shrugged. “If it’d been serious, I might not have gotten here fast enough.”
He studied her, finally stepping in close. “No. Thank you.” His voice went low and throaty.
Her lips parted as his scent ebbed and flowed around her like an invisible mist. “For what?” She echoed his words, her voice soft and whispery.
“For thinking of my son.” Trace’s dark eyes smoothed over her face like he was taking in every detail. “Ben has high-functioning autism.”
Ah. That explained a lot. Ben’s mannerisms made sense. So did the serious way Trace seemed to take on the world. Raising a special-needs child would likely do that to a person.
“Not many people have the consideration or the patience with him that you’ve had.” He drew in a breath so heavy with emotion, it was clear he’d spent many heart-wrenching years worrying over his son. “That’s why his mother, Megan, isn’t around much.”
Megan. That explained even more. “I’m sorry,” Lily said. “For you. For Ben.” She put a hand on Trace’s arm. “And for Ben’s mom . . . because she’s missing out on a great kid.”
The breeze kicked up and blew a rogue lock of hair across her parted lips. She reached up to flick it away, but he stopped her hand, pushed it aside, and used his fingers to tuck the silky strands behind her ear. His fingers lingered, brushing against her ear.
She shivered, looking up at him with uncertainty. His quick, shallow breaths washed over her face, warming her from the inside out.
His hand dropped to her cheek and cupped it, his thumb caressing her chin. Like he was torn and contemplating his next move. That beautifully chiseled jaw tensed and released. The pad of his thumb found her bottom lip and brushed across it.
She couldn’t help it. She drew in a sharp breath as a tremble started somewhere deep inside her and spiraled in every direction.
This was so not a good idea.
He leaned into the Jeep, his eyes hungry. Moving a hand to the back of her head, he gently drew her toward him.
“Cheep,” Megan the duck protested before Trace could cover Lily’s mouth with his.
He stopped, his nose almost brushing hers. He lingered there, their breaths mingling. “We should probably go.”
Only he didn’t look like he wanted to go anywhere. He looked like he wanted to stay right where he was, with his fingers stroking her cheek and his lips hovering a fraction of an inch from hers.
“Cheep, cheep. Cheep, cheep.”
“Yes.” Lily swallowed. “Definitely. We should go.” She pulled away from his touch and adjusted herself in the seat to stare straight ahead.
He hesitated, then closed the door.
Leaving her to wonder if his kiss really could’ve made her moan louder than her masseuse had. Leaving her disappointed that she would never know for sure.