a leisurely row. They wave. He ignores. Something he’s good at doing. He doesn’t have to answer to anyone or make excuses for being a pathetic asshole.
A few days after Lily ran away, when Dwight had been called in for questioning about the drowning of Wes Jensen off their dock, Lucas cut across the back lawn from his apartment above the garage to the shore. The best way to evade the constant stream of police cars and nosy neighbors was to avoid them. Put his head down and carry on as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
He rounded the back deck and heard weeping. Looking in that direction, he saw Charlotte. Bundled in a wool blanket on a patio chaise, his formidable mother appeared small and fragile, a flower wilting in the April mist.
He mounted the deck and sat by her feet. She reached for him, hand on the blanket, palm up. After a moment, Lucas wove his fingers with hers. He wanted comfort from her as much as he wanted to comfort her. Out of character for him, but he didn’t give a shit.
“You don’t have to hide from me, Lucas. I know you saw your dad with Wes the other night,” she whispered.
Lucas could have stopped them, but he hadn’t. His jaw ticked. He could still hear the echo of the shot that went off when Lily tried to wrestle the rifle from Dwight.
“Your father doesn’t know you were watching. Keep it that way. Best no one knows.”
He moved to extract his hand. Charlotte’s grip tightened. “I’m trying to protect you, Lucas, like I’ve been protecting your little sister. It’s not your fault she left. She didn’t have a choice. You saw what your father did to that boy. I worried he’d harm her, too. He was incensed about her pregnancy. I’m the one who helped her run away even before your father told her to go.” Lucas’s eyes widened and she leaned closer. “I’ve wondered if your father did something to Benton St. John.”
He tilted his head. “What?”
“Our neighbor. Remember him?”
“Barely.” Benton was murdered when Lucas was three.
“It’s just a feeling. But after what happened with Wes, that feeling’s back. That poor boy. I couldn’t see from the window, but I heard him. I know he was here. Then he wasn’t. What did you see?”
Something he’d never be able to forget. Guilt over his failure to act on Lily’s behalf crept through him, making itself at home. It wouldn’t leave anytime soon. He should have stormed the scene, ripped the rifle from Dwight’s hands, shot him in the chest, and dumped his body in the ocean. Lily would have no longer feared him, and she wouldn’t have had to run away.
“Nothing I want to talk about,” he said.
Charlotte squeezed his fingers. “He’s not the man I married, Lucas. His failed campaigns have changed him. Our tight finances have made him bitter. And Benton St. John, your father was different after Benton’s body was found. I don’t want to find out what else he’s capable of.” Her voice quavered. She clung to his hand. “Wherever Lily is, she’s safe, safer than if she’d stayed.”
Lucas studied their linked hands. Charlotte’s knuckles were ghostly white against her skin. She was shaking. Her trembles ran up his arm. He vowed to keep her safe. Whatever her reason—possibly fear Dwight would come after her, or the feeling she had no escape. He’d read an article about emotionally abused spouses and their belief there was no way out—she wouldn’t leave Dwight. But Lucas wouldn’t allow him to harm anyone else, no matter the cost.
“Give me your word, Lucas. Promise you won’t tell a soul about anything you saw. They can’t arrest your father. He knows things, things I can’t share, please understand that.” She squeezed his hand with a bruising grip.
“All right.” He agreed for no other reason than his mom asked it of him. If she believed his silence kept her safe, then he’d keep quiet. For now.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He stood and kissed her forehead. “I’ll take care of him when you’re ready. I’ll persuade him to leave us for good. Just give me the word.” He now had leverage over Dwight. Sorry, Mom. But if Dwight’s arrest meant he’d be out of their family picture, he’d tell the world what his father did. Paybacks were a bitch.
Lucas reaches the halfway point of his morning row and rests the paddle on his lap. The kayak bobs with the swell of the ocean,