Page 19 of Penance (Rising From the Ashes #2)

Lily

Y ou don’t belong here, the voice inside my head reminds me as I stare up at Abigail’s home. And I don’t. It’s been years since I set foot in a trailer park, and I still worry that the grime of that place sticks to me, ready to leave a trail in a place like this.

The Harrison mansion is a far cry from the trailer park I grew up in. It’s four times the size of my childhood home. I can’t imagine growing up here, in a place free of roaches and bitter cold nights.

Abigail greets me at the door with a warm smile. Despite the size of her home, she’s never been anything but kind to me, which, unfortunately, has not always been my experience with people with money. Growing up, I was looked down on because of my home life, seen as a charity case.

I hated it.

Abigail was one of the first people I met who knew nothing about my past and just treated me as a person. It was nice.

“Hello, dear. It’s so good to see you.” She pulls me into a hug, and I sink into it, taking more comfort from it than I should. This is our routine every time I come over to discuss anything for one of the many committees we run together.

“Hi, Abigail,” I say, stepping out of her hug even though my worries are always less—well, just less—when she hugs me like that, and lately I’ve really needed them to be less because it feels like I’m carrying a led weight around my neck and trying to tread water.

My job. The Birdies. My mom—whose calls and texts I’ve been ignoring for weeks, ever since the day of the board meeting.

It’s all been heavy. Add in what I learned about Theo at the custody hearing, and I’m pretty sure I’m on the verge of cracking.

Theo’s an addict.

Those words are so far off base from the man I know. He may drive me crazy, but he’s a good man—not an addict. He can’t be because every addict I’ve ever known is still one.

I’ve been trying to convince myself that I can trust my judgment after my screw-up with Tanner last year, but if Theo is an addict—and I didn’t know—maybe the reality is I can’t. Perhaps the board would be right to let me go.

I didn’t realize I had spaced out until Abigail called my name. “Lily, dear, are you okay?”

You don’t belong here, the voice echoes.

Pasting on a smile, I do what I do best. Fake it.

“I’m fine. Shall we?” I ask, motioning inside.

She doesn’t move at first, cocking her head to study me. Her green eyes bore into me, making me squirm, but just when I’m afraid she’ll call me out on it, she smiles and says, “We shall.”

I follow her into the house, which is just as extravagant on the inside as it is on the outside.

“I’m so glad you could come today,” Abigail says, looking back at me as she leads me to a formal sitting room. “The end of summer festival will be here before we know it, and there is still so much to do.”

I press my lips together and smile. “I’m willing to help any way I can.”

With everything that’s happening, I need to feel useful. Like I can actually get something right .

She stops, taking my hand in hers. “I know you are, dear.” Her gaze is searing as she looks at me, and even though I didn’t voice my thoughts of uselessness aloud, I think she still sees it written on my face.

“I’m going to say this one time and one time only, Lily Carson. The board is a bunch of numskulls.”

I can’t stop the bark of shocked laughter that slips past my lips. Abigail is always put together and classy, so for her to resort to name calling— it is unexpected to say the least.

“Thank you, but you don’t have to say that. It’s okay if you agree with them. The Birdies certainly do,” I say, starting toward the couch, but she tightens her grip on my arm, not letting me go.

“The opinion of the Birdies in the board’s decision has nothing to do with one another.

The Birdies recognize that you are a strong, capable woman, and sometimes strong, capable women often must steel their spine in their adversities, sometimes making us look cold.

But the strongest of women know when to be soft, too.

And that softness is what the Birdies want to see from you. ”

My throat aches as I try to swallow past a lump. I reach up, holding onto my necklace. The cool feel of the metal against my skin grounds me.

It’s hard to be soft when life has made you hard.

“I understand, ma’am.”

“Do you?” She asks, cocking her head and lifting a brow.

Not at all. But I won’t admit that to her. So I lie.

“Yes, ma’am.”

If she sees through my lie, she doesn’t call me out for it, and that’s good enough for me.

Satisfied, she drops my arm and moves to sit in her chair. It’s a high-back Victorian chair that might as well be a throne, and in Abigail’s world, it probably is.

Sitting on the couch opposite her, I pull out my notebook to write down anything I’ll need to remember.

We are about to begin when a flurry of red hair and chaos rushes into the room.

“Hi, Mom,” MJ says, dropping a kiss on Abigail’s cheek and flopping beside me on the couch.

Abigail reaches out and pats MJ on the knee. “Nice of you to join us, darling, but next time, let’s try to be on time.”

MJ pulls a face, sticking her tongue out at Abigail when she turns away, but the love in her eyes gives her away.

A year ago, Abigail and MJ didn’t talk, but now they understand each other better. And maybe it’s petty, but that’s hard to watch because not every mom is like Abigail. Not every mom tries.

You don’t belong here.

Clearing my throat, I sit up straighter in my seat.

“I heard you went to court,” MJ says.

I shift, glancing down.

“That’s right, Theo’s custody hearing. How did that go?” Abigail asks.

I want to do anything but answer that question or talk about Theo, but I cannot ignore Abigail, even if I could brush off MJ.

“It—” I start, but I also don’t know how much either of them know about Theo and his past. I open my mouth to tell them what I know—how Theo is an addict, and that’s why he hasn’t been in Tanner’s life—but no sound comes out.

There’s this strange sense of loyalty to a man I know nothing about, “didn’t go as planned. ” I finish lamely.

MJ’s brows press together. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say the judge wasn’t a big fan of Theo’s, and the only reason he granted fifty-fifty custody is because he took Tanner into his chambers.

Whatever Tanner said must have convinced the judge to at least give him a chance.

They’ll split custody, but only for the summer. The judge will reevaluate then. ”

“That’s ridiculous,” MJ cries, anger burning in her voice. She, of all people, knows how bad this could be for Tanner. She had first-hand experience of how bad Josephine was for him last year. “Who was the judge?”

“Ranker.”

MJ curls her nose, coming to the same conclusion I did at the court. Theo was never going to have a fair trial, not with that judge, and honestly, it’s a miracle he was able to get the deal he did. Although no one has ever been able to prove any payoffs, Judge Ranker always favors the rich.

“Mom, is there anything you can do?” MJ asks, looking at Abigail, but Abigail shakes her head, sadness written on her face.

“I’m sorry, honey. There isn’t. The best thing for Theo to do now is to play the small-town game—ingratiate himself here. Build relationships,” she stops, looking at me curiously, “the lasting kind.”

I think there’s some message I’m supposed to pick up, but whatever it is, I’m not picking it up.

MJ looks between her mom and me, and a slow smile spreads across her face. “Maybe a relationship with a certain principal would help.”

It dawns on me then what they are hinting at.

“No,” I say vehemently. “Absolutely not. There is nothing between Theo and me.”

“Are you sure?” MJ asks, cocking a brow. “Because you looked awfully cozy on the dance floor at my engagement party.”

“That was—” I don’t know what that was, but I also don’t need them to know that. “Nothing.” I finish lamely.

Abigail laughs. It’s warm and beautiful—and everything I wish I could be.

“I think we’ve already had this conversation once, dear,” she says, patting my hand.

We did, and she’d said the one thing I was afraid of—that the things we run from always catch up to us. I wonder if she would still say that if she knew how much I fear that the girl I used to be is catching up to me. Lately, it feels like that’s what’s happening, and it’s terrifying.

“Theo and I—we’re like oil and water. We just don’t mesh.”

MJ throws a hand over her stomach, laughing.

“And you think Hayes and I aren’t? We drive each other crazy, but that’s the best part.”

I shrug. “Yeah, well, you have history. We don’t. So,” I say, moving the topic away from Theo and me as a couple. “Aside from a relationship, what else can he do?”

Abigail looks like she wants to say more, but she purses her lips and moves. “I think I might invite him to church.”

“Why?” I can’t keep the sardonic tone from my voice.

“Because a little faith goes a long way, and honestly, dear, it might do you some good, too. Why don’t you both come?”

My mind goes back to the promise I’d made while in the tree, and I wince, knowing it was a promise made out of desperation. I never really thought I’d need to follow through. When I prayed that prayer, I wasn’t convinced anyone was listening.

“I’ll think about it.”

______________________

After leaving Abigail’s, I drive straight home.

My house is nothing like what I grew up in, but it’s also no Harrison mansion.

It’s a small cottage that needs a lot of updates, but it’s clean, in a good neighborhood, and the utilities are always on.

It’s home—a safe space I didn’t have growing up.

Except when I pull into my driveway, safety seems relative.