Chapter 16 #2
There’s a long, heavy pause. “I’m coming over,” he says. “Got a few things to explain.”
“You certainly do.”
But he’s already hung up the call.
“I knew you were smart,” Noah says as he strides through my door ten minutes later. “But you figured that out pretty fast.”
“Come in,” I mutter, since I didn’t invite him. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No thanks.” He walks to the sitting room but doesn’t sit down. Just pivots to face me, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “So,” he says slowly. “You met Luke’s dad.”
I knew it, but still. Hearing Noah confirm it hits like a slap on the butt with a wet dish towel.
“How on earth—” I’m not sure that’s the right question. “When did you—” That’s not right, either.
“What the fuck, Noah?”
My cousin regards me with a stone-faced expression. “After I provided Luke with his father’s contact information, I became concerned that Luke had decided not to meet him. That he’d throw in the towel after all these years, and that would be…unfortunate.”
“Well here’s a newsflash for you, buddy.” I fold my arms, resting them on my oversized belly. “Luke and I split up. We’re not speaking. So if you think I have some sort of pull with him—”
“I’m aware,” he says softly. “And you do.”
I glare at my cousin. “What game are you playing here, Noah?”
“It’s not a game.” His icy blue gaze locks on my face. “If you had any idea how not a game this is—”
“Then why don’t you fill me in? Enlighten me, Noah, instead of skulking around like some sort of all-knowing phantom.”
He looks mildly amused by that view of himself. “Tell me something, Hazel. That day in the grocery store when you dropped two-hundred dollars on the floor and lied to Kelsie Ames that it fell out of her purse—lied to the cashier, Joan Salander as well—why did you do that?”
My jaw hinges open. “How did you—”
“I’m an all-knowing phantom, remember?” Leaning back on the doorframe, he crosses his arms to match my stance. “Answer the question, Hazel.”
Jesus Christ. This took a weird turn.
“Okay, setting aside the fact that it’s creepy as hell you not only know that, but know the names of random residents when you haven’t lived in this town since you were a teenager…
” I pause, and he gives me the universal gesture for hurry the hell up.
“I did it because it was the right thing to do. I saw someone struggling. Someone who needed help I was in a unique position to offer.”
“With the bonus of sparing her dignity by pretending she dropped the money. Even though everyone standing there knew otherwise.”
“What is your point?”
Noah stares into my eyes. “Good and bad are rarely black and white. Shades of gray make up much of our moral code. Sometimes a lie is a kindness. Honorable, even.”
There’s an odd little roar in my ears. I don’t understand what’s happening here. “Why are you talking in riddles? And what does this have to do with Luke’s father?”
“Let me ask you one more thing, Hazel.” He doesn’t wait for me to say I’m not in the mood to play twenty questions. “Why did you turn your father in?”
“Because he broke the law.”
His face says that’s not the answer he wanted. “Did you randomly stumble over the discrepancies that ultimately led to his conviction?” he asks slowly. “Or did something inside you say to go looking?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Just humor me, Hazel. Has no one ever asked you this?”
Oddly enough, they haven’t. “I went looking. I defended my dad from the start, but I began to suspect his version of the story wasn’t the truth. That my grandfather never intended for Dad to inherit all the land and develop it.”
“What else?”
Why is he goading me like this?
And why am I spitting out answers like Noah’s my creepy-ass therapist? “It broke my heart, seeing the impact Dad’s actions had on the rest of you. All the cousins—you, Jake, Lucy, all of you—you’re good, honest people, and I saw how much everyone was hurting.”
“I see,” Noah says. “So your gut told you something was off about your dad. Empathy pushed you to do the right thing.”
I start to reply, but he’s not done yet.
“And just now, with Luke’s father—your gut told you quickly he’s a smarmy, self-important douche-canoe who abandoned his own children to get famous for tending other people’s kids.”
“Okay, wow.” I might not have gotten all of that. But Noah seems to know more than I do. “I don’t get it. Easton Wherclift is a humanitarian legend. I researched before we spoke.”
“He’s done plenty of good in the world,” my cousin agrees. “But he’s also in the running as the world’s shittiest dad, and that’s saying something.”
“No kidding.” I consider my own father. How proudly he wore his Numr Ne Ad shirt.
Noah watches my face. “What’s going through your head right now?”
“My dad wasn’t perfect,” I say slowly. “He’s pretty damn far from perfect, actually. But he was a good father to me.” Not always. Not when money and greed got the best of him. “He raised me to be a good person.”
“That’s what I mean about shades of gray. People aren’t all good or all bad. Your father’s a dickhead, but he’s also a decent dad who raised you alone and did a fine job of it.”
Noah’s words from earlier float through my brain. Shades of gray make up much of our moral code.
“What else aren’t you telling me?” I demand.
He hesitates. “You don’t miss much, huh?”
“No.”
My cousin draws a breath. “Luke doesn’t rub shoulders with criminals because he is one. He does it to help them.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does.” Noah looks up at the ceiling like he’s choosing his next words with care. “I need to explain something in strict confidence.”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious, Hazel.” His eyes drop to mine, icy and somber. A shiver rolls through me. “What I’m about to tell you can’t leave this room.”
“Fine.”
There’s a long, heavy pause that floats in the charged space between us.
“I work for an organization that specializes in rehabilitating inmates who are…” he pauses, searching for the right word, “misunderstood. Incarcerated individuals with skills and traits required for very specific tasks on the outside.”
I stare at my cousin. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
He doesn’t. He looks deadly serious.
“Luke and other freelancers like him are deliberately given only bare-bones information,” he continues.
“To share this level of detail with you, I sought permission from my employer. Believe me when I say this is much more than most people know without signing a strict NDA or having a gun to their head.”
I’m certain he’s joking about that last part. Pretty sure. “You’re saying Luke is involved with this—this organization.”
“Correct.”
“So why didn’t he tell me?”
“Because he’s a man of his word. He took an oath to keep it a secret. An oath that preceded his promise to you.”
“So what are you saying? You guys are out there acting as some benevolent force, giving prison inmates a second chance so they can go out and save the world?”
“Yes,” Noah says. “That is exactly what I’m saying.”
This can’t be real. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I know you know Luke Lovelin is a good man. You know that in your gut, Hazel. The same gut that told you your father was guilty and Easton Wherclift is a self-congratulatory cockwaffle.”
“And also, Luke’s father.”
“Exactly.” He gives me a moment to digest all that. “So,” he says softly. “What are you going to do about it?”
Gripping the back of a vintage Eames chair, I process what he’s just said.
I know you know Luke Lovelin is a good man.
Noah’s not wrong. The bastard.
“This organization you work for,” I begin, and I watch his expression turn wary. “Don’t worry—I’m not asking for details.”
“Good, because I can’t tell you more than I already have.”
“Answer me this, Noah.” I’m parroting his word choice from earlier, and the quirk of his mouth says he hears it. “Your employer believes in second chances.”
“That’s correct.”
“And, in your humble opinion, I should give one to Luke.”
“That’s your choice to make.”
I check in with my gut. It’s a tangled fishnet wrapped up with my heart, so it takes me a moment to untwist it all. Weighty emotions swish through me like waves full of longing and loss and love.
So damn much love.
In that moment, my gut tells me everything I already know.
Luke is a good man. A kind soul. A wonderful father and partner.
I didn’t lose faith in Luke when he lied. I lost faith in my own instincts.
All my cousin just did was remind me to trust them.
“Hazel?” My cousin quirks an eyebrow. “Was there a question?”
“Yes.” I draw a deep breath. “I have something to do now. Will you please get the hell out of my house?”
Chuckling, my cousin heads for the door. “I’ll see you around.”
There’s no way to do everything that needs to be done without calling in reinforcements. I screwed up big-time when I sent Luke away, so this calls for a big-time apology.
But being thirty-one weeks pregnant with twins means I’m not at my multi-tasking best. Maybe my father was being a jerk when he criticized my tendency to do everything alone, but Dad wasn’t wrong. I do have a habit of thinking I should shoulder all the world’s burdens by myself.
That’s not an option now. Even if I could be in eight different places at once, I’m sluggish and slow and can’t get around like I could nine months ago.
This occasion calls for my girls. My family, by blood and by friendship.
It’s time to summon the Vulvarines.
“How are we doing on assignments?” Cassidy consults her clipboard. “Brooke, how’s the script looking?”
Our therapist pal shoots her an uneasy look. “Okay, I just need to go on record as saying I don’t think we should call it a script. Maybe ‘discussion ideas’ or ‘compassionate communication framework’ or something like that.”
“She wrote sixteen pages, front and back.” Cassidy flips her attention to me. “Were you actually planning to read him the whole thing?”