Until There Was You

Chapter TWENTY-NINE



“WELL, IT WAS THE whole do-or-die thing,” Jonathan pronounced, taking up the blow-dryer. “You said it all, gave it your all, went all out. No regrets. Sounds like you were amazing. Hold still.”

Oddly enough, Posey had been feeling…well, not horrible. It was hardest at night in the church with the animals doing their best to let her know she was loved, Shilo’s cementlike head on her belly, the cats purring at her side. But she had tried. Said everything in her heart, and if it wasn’t enough, then it just wasn’t. She was lucky on every other front in her life, and this echo, this empty cavern in her heart…it would fill in. She knew that. She did.

Posey winced as Jon applied a medieval-tong type of instrument. “Is that burning smell anything I should be worried about?”

“You’re fine. You’ll be OMG cute, trust me. Henry, doesn’t she look cute?” Henry grunted. “Betty’s going to adore you, Posey,” Jon continued. “Ten more days till we’re fathers! Ten days, Henry!”

“Ten days!” Henry chorused back, finally looking up with a smile.

“He’s in a good mood today. Some bozo with a table saw lost a thumb yesterday, and guess who reattached it? Happy times, right, darling?”

“So happy,” Henry said. “You look pretty, sis. Jon will be the luckiest boy at the prom.”

A knock came at the door. “Come in!” Jon shouted, then lowered his voice. “That’s my other appointment. Um…it’s Nicole Murphy. They couldn’t fit her in at Curl Up and Dye, but luckily, she has the best home-ec teacher in the world. My curse. I do everything so well.” He fingered a lock of her hair and hit it with some spray. “I hope you don’t mind, Posey.”

“No, no. Of course not.” She looked up as Liam’s daughter came into the kitchen. “Hey, Nicole!”

“Oh, hi, Posey! Are you Mr. White’s date?”

“She’s in love with me and begged me to take her,” Jon said, pulling a face. “Very awkward, but what can I do? She’s family.”

“So, you’re going with Tanner?” Posey asked.

The girl’s face lit up. “Yeah. My dad finally relented.”

She was so lovely, it was as if the room glowed. For a second, Posey felt such a wave of grief for Emma—who would never see this moment, who had been so good to Posey, who had died so horribly young—that tears came to her eyes. “You’re even prettier than your mom,” she said, her voice a little husky.

“Thanks, Posey.” The girl’s face softened.

“There we are, darling, you’re done,” Jon said, and Posey got out of the chair, the unfamiliar fumes of hair spray giving her a little rush.

“So, Nicole, how’s Mister Jonathan doing your hair?” she asked.

“An upsweep?” Nicole said. Jon squinted at her, then nodded.

“Old-school Hollywood, none of this tangled-ponytail business, don’t you think, precious?” Jon began brushing her hair, asking Nicole about her dress, the flowers Tanner would bring her. Henry poured Jon some sparkling water and handed it to him, then sat on the counter, watching the beautification.

“You seem good these days, big bro,” Posey said.

“Can’t wait to be a daddy,” he said.

“Can’t wait to be an aunt.” She squeezed his arm, happy to see him exhibiting normal human emotions.

“Did you have fun at your prom, Posey?” Nicole asked.

Though the question was completely normal, Posey froze. “Oh…well. Sort of.”

“She did not,” Jonathan retorted. “Some horrible boy made fun of her, ruined the whole night. Her date dumped her, and she had to walk home in the rain. It was so Carrie. Minus the killings and fire and blood. But just as bad in its own way.”

“Oh, my gosh!” Nicole exclaimed. “You poor thing!”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Posey said, her face burning.

“If you have any problem at all tonight, Nicole, my dear, you tell me, and I’ll take care of it, okay?”

“You’re so nice, Mr. White. I really appreciate you doing my hair.”

“You’re very welcome. Tilt, please.”

Nicole tilted. “Why would a boy make fun of you? What a jerk! What did he say?”

The fact that Nicole’s father was the subject of the conversation was making Posey’s stomach knot. “Um…I don’t really remember. You know. It was a long time ago. Kids. Teenagers. Whatever.”

“He called her a bag of bones,” Jon said. “So mean! You’re petite, that’s all, sweetheart. Nicole, wait till you see Posey’s dress. So cute! I picked it out, of course.”

“I can’t wait,” Nicole said, smiling sweetly.

“So, who was that jerk, anyway, Posey?” Jon asked. “Henry, you beat him up, right? Does he still live in town?”

Henry was looking steadily at Posey, and a horrid realization sliced through her. Henry knew. He’d memorized all the bones in the human body by the age of four. His IQ was 164, and he had a near-perfect memory. There was no way that he didn’t realize that the jerk in question was the father of the girl sitting in his kitchen…and the guy Posey was in love with. He’d probably known all along.

“I don’t remember,” he said, putting his arm around her. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t beat anyone up, though.”

“Well, I would have,” Jon muttered.

“Oh, man, look at the time,” Posey said. “I better get going. Nicole, see you later. You already look gorgeous.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” Jon said. “Bye! Nicole, dear, tilt your head the other way, now. Hold still, we’re not done yet.”





SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL. Liam’s daughter was perfectly beautiful, and it was killing him.

“What do you think, Daddy?” She twirled around, her long blue dress swishing around her.

“You look twenty-five.”

“Seriously? Thanks!”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

She grinned in the mirror anyway, then applied some lip gloss. The ache in Liam’s heart tightened. Emma should’ve seen this. She would’ve loved this moment. She would’ve known what to say; she would’ve been excited for Nicole, not filled with dread. She would’ve laughed at Liam’s anxieties and made him feel better, because even if they hadn’t been the best couple on their own, they’d always been good parents to this beautiful, magical creature in front of him.

“Hang on a sec,” he said and went into his bedroom. In the back of the closet was a safe. Liam twisted the combination and opened the heavy door. The safe contained the usual items—the deed to this apartment, his garage, the life-insurance policy, a couple grand in cash—no son of a criminal ever really felt safe without cash.

And there in the back was a black velvet box. Liam opened it and took out the strand of Emma’s pearls.

For a moment, the memory of her was so intense that he could smell her perfume, feel the soft skin of her neck, see the pearls glowing against her throat. He could almost hear her laugh.

The pearls were cool in his hand. For a second, he pressed them against his lips and let himself remember just how much he’d loved his wife. Once, the strongest truth in his life was that Emma Tate had chosen him. Those days…those had been burnished with gold, and even if the light slowly faded over the years, those days had happened nonetheless.

Liam cleared his throat and went back into his daughter’s bedroom. “Here,” he said gruffly. “Your mom wore these on our prom night.”

Nicole’s mouth opened. “Oh, Daddy,” she whispered, and her eyes filled with tears.

“She’d be so proud of you,” he said unevenly, fastening the pearls around her neck. “She thought you were the best thing that ever happened.”

His daughter wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him.

“Nic,” Liam whispered into her hair, “I’m sorry for being such a jerk this past year. I just love you so much. When I look at you, I think of the little girl I held in the hospital. You were so pink and perfect, I couldn’t believe I got to keep you. And you loved me so much…I don’t want to lose that. I know you’re growing up, and I’m so proud of you and the person you’re becoming…but I’m so…scared that you won’t need me anymore.”

“Daddy! That would never happen!” She pulled back to look at him. “Oh, wow, you’re going totally sentimental on me.”

“I just want to protect you. I never want you to get hurt or be heartbroken.” He swallowed. “I don’t want you to make mistakes and fall for the wrong guy. I’d jump in front of a bus to keep that from happening. All I want for you is to be safe and happy.”

“Are you crying, Dad? Are those, like, tears in your eyes?”

He gave her a mock scowl. “Give me a break, Nicole. My baby’s growing up. It’s hard.”

She hugged him once more, the smell of her hair so precious it made his heart ache. She pulled back a little, then wiped her eyes with a tissue, careful not to smear her mascara. “Dad,” she said firmly. “I am safe and happy. And like, chances are my heart will get broken someday, and I’ll screw up plenty, right? But if that happens…” She turned to face him. “I know where to come.”

He looked at the floor and nodded. Why were little girls allowed to grow up? And get smart?

“Daddy? You’re doing a good job, you know. You’re a really good father.”

This would be one of those golden moments. He’d keep this moment with him till the last day of his life. “Thanks.” It was the only word he could get out.

She planted a quick kiss on his cheek, then turned back to worship her reflection. “You’re such a softy. Mom always said I should marry a guy like you.”

His head snapped up. “What was that?” he asked.

Nicole slipped an earring into place. “She said to make sure I picked someone who’d take care of me the way you took care of her.” She smiled at him in the mirror, oblivious to the fact that her words had just about knocked him down.

Emma had told their daughter to marry a guy like him? “When—when did she say that?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes when you were going out on a date, and I’d watch her put on makeup, and I’d say how I couldn’t wait to get married, and she’d say, ‘Make sure you pick someone like Daddy.’” Nicole smiled at him and put in her other earring.

Liam, suddenly aware that his mouth was open, closed it. “Oh, so guess what? I saw Posey, right? At Mr. White’s house. He was doing her hair, too, because she’s, like, a chaperone. And listen to this. When she went to her prom, some creep told her she looked like a bag of bones, and she got totally dumped and had to walk home! In the rain. How’s that for nice, huh? I’d totally slap that guy. I’d give him a knee to the crotch, that’s what I’d do.”

Bag of bones? That phrase sounded…familiar. Those words…they meant something to him.

His daughter was looking at him in the mirror, waiting for a response. “Knee to the crotch. That’s my girl.”

“Do you like her, Dad? I got a vibe between the two of you the other night. After the game?”

Liam inhaled sharply. “Uh…yes. I do.”

“Are you guys dating?”

“Well…no.” He swallowed. Now or never. “Nicole, I thought you wanted it to be just the two of us. Remember?”

She frowned. “Oh, that! When you asked if I wanted to live with Grandma and Grandpa? Dad, come on. I was totally PMSing that day. You can have a girlfriend. As long as she’s cool and doesn’t go all Cruella De Vil on me. And don’t even think about popping out triplets before I leave for college, okay, because I am so not the diaper-changing type.”

Once again, Liam found his mouth was hanging open. “Oh.”

She patted his hand. “Get a life, Dad. Do more than sit around and worry about me, okay? Posey’s nice. Anyway, don’t you love my hair? I wish I could do this myself. Mr. White is so awesome. I wish he could be my teacher for every subject. They’re adopting a baby. Isn’t that cool?”

The doorbell rang.

“Oh, my gosh! That’s Tanner! Daddy! Go get the door! Go, go! Tell him I’m not ready.” With that, she shoved him out of the room.

Mom always said I should marry a guy like you.

But those weren’t the only words ringing in his brain.

Bag of bones.

Memory was dawning, the thick fog lifting over what was not a proud moment.

Nothing but a bag of bones.

But first things first. He had fatherly things to do. He opened the door, and there was Tanner Talcott, wearing a tuxedo, corsage box in hand.

Liam had been working at the garage before coming home this evening. He was dressed like the thug he’d once been—black motorcycle jacket, black leather boots, faded jeans, Orange County Motors T-shirt. Hadn’t shaved today, or yesterday, now that he thought about it. He was a good three inches taller than young Tanner, and probably forty pounds heavier. He stepped a little closer to his daughter’s date. Tanner took a half step back. Good.

“Ground rules, Tanner,” he growled. Tanner paled. More good. “No alcohol. No smoking. No drugs. No looking at other girls. You can dance with my daughter. Your hands will avoid the danger zones, which are here, here and here.” Liam gestured to his chest, groin and ass. “You can kiss her. Once. At 10:59 p.m. tonight, when you’ll be standing here once again. I will be on the other side of this door, waiting for her. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Tanner whispered.

“I was your age once, too,” Liam said.

“I’m aware of that, sir.”

“I know what you think about.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You can think it. You can’t do it.”

“Okay.”

“I have many sharp tools in my garage.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re clear, then?”

“Very, sir.”

“Good!” Liam smiled, then grabbed the boy by the shoulder and dragged him in. “Nicole! Your date’s here.”





FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later, when the pictures had been taken and Nicole had kissed her dad and Tanner had shaken his hand and Liam had managed to let his child go, he got on his bike and headed across the bridge into Maine. When he pulled up in front of the Tate residence, he gunned his motor before shutting it off. Let them know he was loaded for bear, in other words.

George opened the door, frowning. “Liam. Is Nicole all right?”

“She’s fine. I’d like to speak with you and Louise both, please.”

“Well, we’re having a dinner party. It’ll have to wait.”

“Now, George.” Liam folded his arms across his chest. “Or I can come in and say it in front of your guests, if you’d rather.”

His father-in-law frowned. “Fine. Wait here.” He returned a long minute later with Louise.

“Liam,” she said, her lips narrowing. “What is so important that it can’t wait?”

“My daughter is,” he said, staring at them both. “I have something to say. I know you didn’t approve of me following Emma to California. I wouldn’t approve of that, either, now that I’m a father. And I know you weren’t happy when she got pregnant, and I know you told her to think about an abortion, and I know you told her to get me to sign away my paternal rights. And I know you told her not to marry me, and I know you probably told her to divorce me once we were married.”

Louise’s eyebrows rose, as if to say So?

“But you should know that I loved your daughter from the day I first saw her to the minute she died. I never stopped. I held her when she cried, I carried her to the bathroom when she was sick, I washed the sheets and made her soup and gave her morphine when the pain got too bad.”

His in-laws’ faces were frozen. “Son, we’re aware—” George began.

“I’m not finished,” Liam growled. “How dare you threaten to take away my daughter? The child I raised and read to and fed? How dare you even whisper that I’m unfit? Have you seen her? Talked to her? Don’t you know how special she is?” His voice broke. “You should be thanking me. You should be kissing my goddamn boots. So if you want to try something in court, you go right ahead. I won’t have to say a word. You’ll bury yourselves, and you’ll lose, and when you do, I wonder what Nicole will think about the people who tried to take her away from her father.”

Louise looked like he’d slapped her. “Liam…we…” Her face collapsed. “We just miss Emma so much. When we saw you with that other woman…”

George put his arm around his wife. “We’ll drop the suit. You’re right, son. It was stupid of us.”

The fight went out of Liam as if a light had been flipped off. “I know you miss Emma. So do I, believe me. And I know it wasn’t easy to see me with someone else, but I’m allowed to keep living. And I know you love Nicole. But you can’t come between us, and you have to stop trying. My kid. My rules.”

George nodded, and to his credit, he looked ashamed. Louise fished a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her eyes. “Have you…told Nicole any of this? About…the things we said about you?”

Liam looked at her. The echoes of Emma were in her face—her nose, the shape of her eyes. “No, Louise,” he said gently. “Of course not. And I never would.”

“Louise? Is everything all right?” A tall woman, dressed in Barbara Bush wear—sweater set, plaid skirt, sturdy shoes—stood on tiptoe behind the Tates.

“Oh, yes,” Louise said. “It’s Liam. Our son-in-law.”

“It’s prom night,” Liam said, smiling at her. He fished in his pocket and withdrew his camera. “I brought pictures of Nicole.” He handed the camera to George. “You can look at these without me, since I have to run.”

“Thank you,” Louise said, her voice still tremulous.

Liam looked at her a long moment. “Give Nicole a call tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll want to tell you all about it.”

“Thank you, Liam,” she whispered.

“See you soon, son,” George said.

Then Liam walked back to his bike, which had never looked quite so beautiful, and slung his leg over it, pulled on his helmet and started her up.

One more stop, and then he’d be done.