“How old where you when you moved in with him?”
“My mother died when I was fifteen.”
“And your father--”
“Long gone.” His tone is short in a way that says he’s done with the topic and he reaches for a glass of orange juice I think must be as bitter as the topic clearly is, from the sugary pancakes, but he gulps it down just fine. The same way he has every sour note life has thrown him and not for the first time I envy him that control.
An odd sensation churns in my belly, and I’m not sure if it’s about food, or how poorly I’ve handled my life. “Any chance you have something carbonated?”
He stands up and walks to the fridge and returns with Ginger Ale and a glass of ice. “My mother’s cure for all stomachaches. I had Evans bring you a bottle.”
I tilt the can to fill my glass. “They had Ginger Ale in stock?”
“They do now.”
He had them stock it for me and I soften inside with this knowledge. For all the hardness on Liam’s outside, he is capable of such tenderness. I take a sip of the soda and it is soothing to my stomach.
He claims his seat again, watching me. “Good?”
I nod. “It’s perfect. I thought rest would make me a hundred percent but I’m still not quite right.”
“You’ve been through hell. Give yourself time. When we get done eating, I thought I’d show you the rest of Alex’s dagger collection. There are some unique pieces that might interest the history lover in you.”
The idea intrigues me. “I’d like that very much. Do you collect as well?”
He leans back in his chair. “Not my thing, but Alex spent a lot of time in Asia and developed the interest, and about seventy-five percent of his collection, while living there.”
“What drew him to Asia?”
“Architecture. They like tall buildings. He wanted to be able to master that craft.”
“Like you have. Did you study in Asia as well?”
He nods and I feel relief at the confirmation it gives me. “Alex insisted I spend time there. He wanted me to learn from the best and he never considered himself that, even when everyone else did.” He leans forward. “I spent a lot of time in Asia, Amy. I never went to Egypt until a few years ago and I can prove it through my passport records.”
I reach for his hand and cover it. “I didn’t ask.”
“But you should. Knowing what you’ve been through, you have to suspect everyone. Just like you had to run when you heard that conversation between me and Derek. I don’t want you to ever doubt me like that again.”
I inhale and decide to embrace more of that honesty I’ve so rarely been allowed. “You have no idea how much the idea of you being the enemy crushed me.”
“I’m not the enemy and I want to be able to talk to you about Egypt and the pyramids and anything you want or need to talk about without creating fear and doubt in you.”
“It won’t. And I’d like that. I tried to block them out. I tried to block all of it out and I think that’s what led to my blackouts. I need to reconnect with my past.” And so I do. “They were my everything. We all traveled together until I was in high school, mostly through Egypt and Africa. I did my school work from dig sites. Working with my father, who was passionate and absolutely brilliant, represents the most amazing experiences of my life.”
His expression softens. “I felt the same way with Alex and with the many talented people he connected me with.”
“Did you travel while you were in school like I did?”
“Some, but I spent the bulk of my time in Asia right after I graduated from college.”
A sad smile touches my lips. “My mom said I was a great student. I got my work done fast and right so we could both get back in the dirt.”
“If it worked so well, what happened to change it all?”
“My father said he wanted me to have some kind of normal childhood, with a prom and all that fluffy stuff I was supposed to want. So my mother and I stayed behind and he and my brother conquered the world beyond.”
“Did you at least enjoy a period of being a normal teenager?”
“I tried, but I always felt like a castaway. There wasn’t even a museum in Jasmine Heights that my mother and I could volunteer at to stay somewhat involved in that life.” Unbidden, a memory of overhearing my father talking to my mother comes to me. You and Lara staying here is what is best, and with it the tingling in my scalp begins.
Liam's hand goes to my bare leg under the table. “What is it?”
I look at him, unaware until this moment that my elbows are on the table and I’ve pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Nothing, I just...” The memory stirs again, my parents’ voices in my head, surprisingly clear. “Remembering something.”
“Something important?”
“My parents arguing over us staying behind.”
“Your mother wasn’t happy about it either?”
“It was hard having the family separated.” I shove my plate aside.
Liam inspects my half-eaten pancakes. “You should try and eat more.”
“I’m not a six-foot-two man,” I remind him. “I ate plenty.”
He doesn’t look convinced but I’m saved when the doorbell goes off and Liam’s hand slides away from my leg. “That will be Derek coming in the security exit. He’s going to have his sister go shop and buy you whatever you need. You want to make a list?”
I shake my head. “I’ve been living in rat trap motels and hitchhiking. I’m good with whatever.”
“You’re not there anymore, baby, and you never will be again. But you’re right. Don’t make a list. I’ll tell her to spend freely and frivolously.”
“Oh, good grief, Liam. I’ll make a list.”
He stands up. “No list. I’ll handle it.” He heads through the kitchen and I stand up to follow him when spots dot my vision. I’m going down, and I’m going down soon, and I don’t want to do it with Liam and Derek standing over the top of me.
All too aware that speed is of importance, I stumble my way back into the bedroom and head to the bathroom. I tug at the door and pull it shut, and practiced at this as I am, I slide to the sitting position by the wall to ensure I don’t fall. Memories surface. I shove my fingers in my hair, rubbing my tingling scalp but I don’t will away the memory. I want to remember. It’s time. It’s time and to my surprise instead of blacking out, my mind travels back to the fight I’d overheard with my parents. It had been my junior year of high school. I know because my father had spoken at my school when he was home. I’d been supposed to stay late at school but didn’t. I’d headed to the kitchen for a snack when I’d stopped dead in my tracks.
You can’t leave again this soon, my mother had said and I don’t remember what my father said. I’m not sure I heard. My mother sobbed. I remember that, oh so well. Is it another woman? she’d demanded. Is that it? You have another woman. Is that why you won’t take us with you now?
There was movement and I couldn’t tell what happened and then I heard my father’s harsh whisper, No. My God, woman. How can you think that? There is no other woman. It’s not safe for you and Lara. I’m just protecting you. Just know I’m protecting you.
What does that even mean? my mother had screamed. What does that mean?
The less you know the better.
A wave of sickness overcomes me and I crawl to the toilet, certain I’m going to be ill. A knock on the door sounds. “Amy? Are you okay?”
Surprisingly, I am. Okay, I’m not. I get sick. The door jerks open. “Holy hell,” Liam murmurs, squatting beside me.
“Go away. Go away, Liam.”
“You keep saying that and I keep giving you the same answer. Not a chance.” He strokes my hair from my face and hands me a towel. “Do you want some more Ginger Ale?”