Behind Every Lie(13)

“Gross.” Liam pulled my hand out of my mouth, reminding me, suddenly, of my mom.

The ferry docked with a low thud. Liam put the car in gear, maneuvering into the lane of disembarking traffic. Twenty minutes later we turned into our driveway, gravel crunching under the tires.

I looked up at the three-story Washington log and timber-frame house Liam had built before we met. The house was nestled in the belly of the island. Red Douglas fir timbers perfectly complemented the surrounding evergreen trees. The pitched roof, gabled dormers, wraparound porch, and leaded windows were illuminated by the last rays of light peeking through a smattering of clouds that chugged slowly across the sky.

Liam opened my door and helped me out of the car. Mr. Ayyad, our nearest neighbor, was jogging along the lake’s edge with his Siberian husky. Mr. Ayyad couldn’t have been a day younger than ninety-five, yet he moved smoothly and gracefully, with none of the stiffness you’d attribute to the elderly. He slowed as he caught sight of us and raised a hand, his long gray beard dancing in the wind. I waved back as Liam cupped his arm gently over my shoulders and led me up the porch stairs.

Inside, Liam turned all the lights on. The polished hardwood floor and fir beams overhead gleamed in the light. On the far side of the living room, an aged stone fireplace bisected floor-to-ceiling walls of glass that overlooked our private slice of Hidden Lake, spread like a quilt at the bottom of the yard.

I kicked my tennis shoes off automatically, losing my balance and almost knocking over the red-and-yellow art nouveau lamp I’d put on the entry table. I’d bought it at a garage sale a few years ago and I adored it. It was the only decoration here that was mine.

I crossed the living room and went into the garage. The pavement was cold under my bare feet. I threw the side door open and my cat, Ginger, streaked inside. She stretched her claws up my jeans and meowed.

I’d found Ginger in a box on the side of the road shortly after I moved here. She was badly malnourished and had a broken hind leg. Liam had told me to leave her at a vet’s, but I couldn’t abandon her when she was so obviously traumatized. I knew too well what that felt like.

I scooped Ginger up and pressed my face to her neck. Her motor instantly turned on, comforting against my cheek. Putting her down, I filled a bowl with cat food and set it on the floor. When I returned to the living room, Liam had moved my shoes off the carpet to the shoe rack, a gentle reminder to clean up after myself.

“Sorry! I don’t know where my head is.”

Liam smiled. “It’s all right. You were just struck by lightning, after all.”

Our eyes met, and we both burst out laughing. It felt good, like I’d found an island of normalcy in this chaotic world I’d woken up in.

“Sit down. I’ll make you a sandwich.” Liam stroked his knuckles down my cheek. I winced as the raw skin scraped my face. Liam’s eczema had flared up again. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

“A cup of tea, maybe?”

“Won’t it just keep you awake?”

“You’re probably right. Just water then.”

I went upstairs to change into a clean shirt and yoga pants. When I returned, Liam was in the kitchen, barking orders into his phone. “I don’t care what it takes, get that building permit approved.” He paused, then sighed. “Fine. Up our budget. I’m not losing this project just because some new building inspector doesn’t know how this works.”

A second later, he came out of the kitchen with a glass of water and a cheese sandwich.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He looked irritated. “There’s a new building inspector in town and he’s making noises about denying our building permit.”

“But you already have the building up, right?”

Liam frowned. “It’ll be fine. Just a little more negotiating than I thought, is all.”

“I think I’ll go outside,” I said.

“Are you sure? Maybe you should just go to bed. The doctor said you need to rest. Heal. Your head got pretty banged up.”

He reached out to touch the bandage on my temple but I ducked away from his fingers. “I don’t know. I just feel too trapped inside right now.”

“You know you need to—”

“Honestly, I’m fine.” I cut him off before he went into overprotective mode.

“Okay, well, are you all right if I do a few things for work then?”

“Sure, of course.”

Liam was a workaholic. Any project, any job, he persisted at until he saw it through. I knew his drive was an unspoken fuck you to the father who’d rejected him when he was a teenager. But at least he’d turned a negative into a positive.

“The best success stories begin with failure,” he’d told me once when we first met. He’d smiled then, and I knew. This was a man who wouldn’t give up on me. And I was right. Liam never gave up on anything.

I went outside to the sheltered wraparound porch and curled up on one of the wicker chairs, draping a blanket over my lap. The grand old trees swayed and creaked as the wind raked over them, shaking pine needles over the ground.

After a few minutes the automatic porch light clicked off, plunging the countryside into darkness. Finally, hidden by the velvety dark, I bowed my head, tears scorching my cheeks. The grief I’d been burying all day cracked and poured out of me.