Lilies on Main by J. Lynn Bailey

Author:J. Lynn Bailey [Bailey, J. Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romance
Publisher: J. Lynn Bailey
Published: 2018-06-04T16:00:00+00:00

“Wait. So, Jasper is Livia’s brother. Jasper died, and we still don’t know how. Simon was Jasper’s best friend, and now, they’re having sex?” I ask Lydia just to make sure I’m following accurately.

“Seems right.”

Lydia continues to read, and I think it’s the tone of her voice or the feeling she gives me when she’s next to me, as if everything is just how it should be in the world.

Nineteen

Lydia

The next morning, it rings once.

Twice.

On the third ring, a woman on the other line picks up the phone. “Ohio Department of Rehabilitation and Corrections. How may I direct your call?”

“Hello, my name is Lydia White.” But that’s not really my name. I’ve spent too long trying to protect my real name because I know, when Brett gets out of prison, he’ll come looking for me, but I won’t tell this to the twenty-something on the phone, who’ll be looking for her next job in a week or so. “Can you transfer me to”—I take his card in my hand—“I’m looking for Parole Officer Robert Black?”

“One moment, please.”

Mr. Black doesn’t pick up the phone, so I leave a quick message. I leave the important stuff—my fictitious name, the reason for my call, Brett’s name, his prison identification number, and the most important question, his release date.

“It’s hard to convict,” the State of Ohio explained before we went to court. “But, with your testimony,” they explained, using words like great bodily injury and history of abuse, “hopefully, we can get a conviction.”

The scariest word they used was hopefully.

I push my phone across the counter. Give myself space. The fear moving down toward the pit of my stomach. I wish, somehow, I could put all my fears in a jar and leave them be.

Lilly ran upstairs with her make-believe friend, Shelby, to grab a snack real quick.

The bell to the bookstore rings.

Looking up, I see his hat first, and I smile.

Will takes off his hat and holds it over his chest as he makes his way to the counter. He does something between a shuffle and a slow-paced walk. The look on his face isn’t for his own sake. “Lydia, are you all right? You’re white as a ghost.”

“One day.”

“What?”

“One day, I’ll be all right.” I change the subject. “Good to see you back.”

“Yes. That’s why I’m here.” He’s methodical with his words. “I’m real sorry for leaving the way I did the other day.” His eyes bore into mine as if honesty is always at the forefront of his mind. Will seems like that type of man.

“No apology necessary, Will.” I shake my head, straightening some handouts for a music event later this month.

Concern—no, it’s not concern. It’s maybe protectiveness. Protectiveness colors the lines that run horizontally from his eyes. An even deeper black in the crow’s-feet. His nimble fingers, clean nails, white nail beds nervously move along the bill of his hat. But Will’s face never gives off nerves. His demeanor is cool, easygoing, like a jazz saxophone player after a great set or a humble man after delivering a well-received keynote address.

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