and sit down.”
He hesitated, then loaded up a second plate, grabbed a fork, and brought them over to the table. He took the seat across from her, peeked at her as he sat down. Even then, he didn’t start eating right away. He seemed to be waiting for a cue from her. She took another bite, and was satisfied to see him lifting the fork to his mouth. She noticed that his wrist was bare; he had gotten rid of the ID bracelet with his name he used to wear faithfully.
They ate in silence, and she thought that if she closed her eyes, it might have been Calvin sitting across from her during one of their rare quiet mornings. If she didn’t look straight at Sean, she could even pretend for a few moments. She almost felt normal again. No death, no playing the martyr. She was just Lacey, having a meal. Coming down from a high she didn’t even remember, sitting across from a young man she had known when he was just a very young kid. From all she had observed in the last few hours, she could say that Joan had raised a sensitive and caring son. That was the only thing a mother could hope to do.
The headache was barely a whimper as she finished her coffee. She put down her cup and found that Sean had been looking at her, probably for more than a few moments.
“What? Do I look that awful?”
“No. I was just remembering something.”
“What?”
“The first time I met you.”
“Goodness, that was ages and ages ago. I can’t even remember.”
This morning, the blue of his eyes was less gray—clear, intense, and direct. They nearly bore into her. “I remember you making me pancakes and bacon that morning. When I told you I hadn’t eaten you insisted that I eat, said you weren’t going to have me running around without a decent breakfast.”
“Ahh, the breakfast-is-the-most-important-meal-of-the-day-speech, huh?”
He smiled. “Just about. I also remember how nice you were. And how you told me that I should consider your house a second home.” He stopped, considering his words. “I want you to know that I always felt welcome here…at least with you. You were always kind to me. And you actually used to take time to talk to me. I liked our conversations. There were more than a few times I really needed them.”
Lacey felt there was something else beneath the thanks. She pictured the young Sean, the remoteness she had initially taken as a sign of brattiness. To be honest, she hadn’t liked him much in the beginning. But she had sensed that he needed some friendly words and she had given them to him, if only halfheartedly. Now, she felt guilty that she hadn’t realized how much those words, how much her “kindness” had meant to him.
“Well, you were a sweet boy…” she started, wondering why she felt the need to lie.
He laughed. “I don’t think so. My mom used to say that if crankiness ever became a stock, I would have the whole market cornered.”
Lacey laughed with him. Joan always had a pert sense of humor. The two of them had gotten on great the first day she stopped by to meet “Calvin’s mom.” And to see who else was feeding her son. Dark-haired with blue eyes, Lacey had spotted the resemblance. Probably he had taken his hair coloring from his father. It occurred to her that she had never met Sean’s father, had only spoken with him over the phone a couple of times.
“You weren’t that bad. I just sensed that maybe you had your typical teenage problems. Lord knows, Cal wasn’t an angel, either. I think most young people feel they’re carrying the world’s burdens. Little do they know. You wait until they grow older, learn a little more, and begin to realize how complicated the world is…”
“Trust me, I know how complicated the world is, knew it from a long time ago. Age has nothing to do with what burdens you get to carry.”
She sat up at hearing the bitterness in his voice. “Of course, you’re right. I was being too simplistic. Want to talk about what’s bothering you, Sean?”
She should have been used to seeing him shake his head. “Well, thanks again for the breakfast. I’m going to get dressed and make up one of the guest rooms for you.”
She rose, walked her dishes to the sink, turned on the faucet.
“I’ll get those,” he said firmly.
She would have protested, but with a sense that came from seeking beneath the surface of her own son’s moods, she realized that Sean needed to continue his role of protector. He was bending over backward to be nice to Calvin’s mom. Maybe as a way to mend a friendship that couldn’t truly be reconciled, to settle a debt with Cal. She placed the dishes in the sink and turned to leave.
At the doorway, she turned back to him as he gathered up his own dishes. “I’m glad you’re here, Sean. And I meant what I said before—this will always be your second home.”
“It’s not his fucking home!” Calvin yelled at his mother as she passed through him. “He has no right to be here! Mom, God, can’t you hear me?!”
But his mother was already ascending the stairs.
Calvin went back to the kitchen entryway, watched as his turncoat friend looked toward the entry as though he actually saw Calvin standing there.
But Cal knew better. Knew that Sean had bored a hole in his mother’s back as she left. Could feel the thoughts that his friend was trying to push from his mind.
“Don’t you fucking lay a hand on her!” he yelled, but, of course, Sean couldn’t hear him.
No one could. He was all alone, caught between two worlds.
Where was he? Hell?
Chapter 6
After showering, Lacey pulled on a comfortable gray sweater, another pair of jeans, then went to the hallway closet to get fresh towels and washcloths for Sean. She walked them to the first guest room, the one Estelle used when she stayed over, set them on one of the bathroom shelves. She brought out fresh sheets from the room’s closet, remade the bed. Hoped that Sean wouldn’t be turned off by the floral pattern on the cover.
Strange, she felt lighter today. The pain would, of course, always be there. It just wasn’t as acute today. Maybe her mother was right. Being alone wasn’t always good for you. And keeping busy kept her mind away from darker thoughts.
As she finished straightening up, she began to reconsider her aversion to seeing a counselor. But that would come later. It was too soon, too raw. She wasn’t ready to open herself up yet, to divulge the pain that had been swirling inside her. She wasn’t ready to talk about Calvin…not the way she needed to talk about him.
She went back downstairs into the living room. Sean was rooted to the sofa, the television going. A suitcase was parked near the leather chair. The wool coat he’d worn to the burial was thrown over the case.
“Your room’s ready. It’s the second one on the left, past Cal…past Calvin’s room. Why don’t you take your suitcase up.”
He got off the couch, picked up his coat and case. As he walked past her standing near the entry, he accidentally brushed her shoulder. He turned, probably to apologize. But that small action brought his face just an inch away from her own. She smelled the coffee on his breath, felt his breath on her lips.
She saw him glance at her lips for a second, and in that second she thought he was going to lean in. To actually kiss her.
The thought should have repulsed her.
Instead she felt herself moistening, and that frightened her.
She saw in his eyes that his thoughts were following hers…and that he was waiting…but for what? He couldn’t possibly…
She broke the spell, moving back a step. His face was flushed, his breathing unsteady.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, then beelined to the kitchen, denying