I stare down at him. What if it isn’t a theory? What if Ty knows more than he wants to admit? Dad’s voice drifts through my mind, warning, Don’t trust anyone . . . , and I recall Wyatt asking me to think about why Ty came to Silver Lake, why he’s willing to finish roofing our cabin for so little money.
Ty stands and steps toward me, but I back away and cross my arms. “Did you meet Dad once?”
All the blood in my body pools at my feet when he remains silent, his Adam’s apple shifting up and down.
“Dad’s friend Mack stopped by today before you got here. He said you talked to Dad at the Daily Grind a couple of days before the accident. I told him it must’ve been someone else.”
Ty’s chest heaves once. “Lily, I—”
“Did you meet him?”
“I can explain.” He reaches for me.
“Don’t!” I snap, pulling back. “Why have you been lying to me?”
“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t mention meeting your dad. It didn’t seem important.”
“I guess the fact that you threatened him wasn’t important enough to mention, either?”
“Threatened him? Lily, that’s not—” The denial dies on his lips and he blinks rapidly, as if he recalls something he’d rather forget.
“Why did you come to Silver Lake?” I ask, glaring at him. “What did you want from Dad? What do you want from me?” I think of the times we’ve kissed and humiliation threatens to strangle me. Did Ty get close to me for a reason? Does he know something about my parents’ past?
“Let me explain,” he says again.
“There’s no excuse for threatening my dad.” I point at the door, wanting him out of my sight. I can’t even think straight right now. “Get out.”
“Lily—”
“Get out!”
The vein at Ty’s temple jumps. Shamefaced, he turns and strides out the door.
Slumping to the floor, I prop my elbows on my knees and bury my face in my hands, too stunned to cry. When the sound of Ty’s car engine fades, I force myself to get up and go to the chest, wondering what else I might’ve missed besides that T-shirt. Class of ’95.
I take out clothing, piece by piece, studying each item, trying to imagine who it might’ve belonged to. One name keeps pushing to the forefront of my mind, but I shove it back, afraid to acknowledge it.
I feel the edge of something hard wrapped in a folded sweater and pause to pull the fabric aside. It’s a black plastic videocassette. The kind that my parents used to watch in their old VCR when I was younger. Sitting back on my heels, I turn the cassette over in my hands, looking for a label, but I don’t find one.
Lying next to the chest, the violin case catches my eye. I feel drawn to open it and take the instrument out, in spite of how much it scares me. Acting on the impulse, I gather my courage, lift the violin from the case, and play again—only a few chords, but they take my breath away.
I’m lowering the bow when something wet sweeps my ankle. Looking over my shoulder, I find Cookie on his feet, licking me, his tail wagging and his eyes shining bright. With a half sob, half laugh, I put the violin away, then turn and wrap my arms around him. “What’s happened to you, boy? What’s making you so happy all of a sudden?”
The music, Iris says.
I don’t have time to watch the video before Mom gets back. She perks up when she notices the change in Cookie.
“I guess the medicine finally kicked in,” I tell her, not willing to bring up the violin and other things in the chest just yet, or Iris’s claim that the music soothed Cookie and gave his mood a much-needed boost. There’s so much I need to understand before I confront her. I want facts that she won’t be able to push aside or easily explain away.
If Mom notices that Ty isn’t around to do his job, she doesn’t mention it. She works on Dad’s business files at the kitchen table all afternoon. I realize I’m going to have to wait until tonight when she’s asleep to use the VCR.
I try repeatedly to call and text Wyatt but he doesn’t answer, so at four o’clock I walk to his house. He isn’t there. Addie tells me that he met some friends at the hockey rink.