“I’m simplistic,” Lucy said.
“Nah. I wouldn’t have fallen for you if you’d been simplistic. You’re a lot smarter and more interesting than you think you are.”
She didn’t trust his compliments. By flattering her, he flattered himself because that meant he had good taste. “What happened to ‘Stop being so stupid, Lucy’?”
“Hey. As I said, we both behaved badly there. I admit it. Can’t you?”
The gate agent at the desk picked up the microphone and announced they would now begin preboarding. Lucy could have kissed the woman.
“I have to go. I’m boarding now. First class,” she said because she couldn’t help herself. “Bye, Sean.”
“Don’t hang up,” he said. He wasn’t begging. This was an order. “I have the right to know what happened with the kid.”
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes. She was not going to cry before boarding her plane. She was going to remain calm.
“You’re right. You deserve to know,” she said. “But why wait until now to call? You never even texted. Not once. In three years.”
Was Sean capable of feeling shame? Probably not, but at least she’d finally asked a question he didn’t have a slick answer for. She knew why he was calling her now. The contest was all over the news. Sean had heard her name and remembered she existed. Even better—Lucy was getting her fifteen minutes of fame. Why not call and bask a little in that fame? Why not call and make her big adventure about him? Everything in the world was about him anyway.
“I’m asking now, Lucy.”
“There was no kid,” she said. “Congratulations. You’re not a father. Happy? You can admit it.”
His cold laugh made the hair on her arms stand up. “I should have known you were lying. Sorry your little game didn’t work on me.”
“Of course you’d assume I’m as awful a person as you are.”
“I don’t think I—”
“I don’t care what you think. Goodbye, Sean. Never call me again.”
“Whatever you—”
Lucy ended the call. She stood up and gathered her bags. It was a relief to rush onto the plane, to settle into the big wide soft chair, to turn her face to the window and hide her eyes. She took slow breaths to calm her racing heart. She hoped whoever sat next to her would think she was shaking because she was afraid of flying, not because her ex-boyfriend still had the power to rattle her like this. She hated that he could ruin her day with one phone call. No, she wasn’t going to let him do this to her again. She wasn’t a kid anymore. She wasn’t his little doll anymore. She wasn’t under his thumb anymore. She would not give him the satisfaction.
No, she decided then and there she would win this contest. She would win the book. She would read it to Christopher to celebrate, and the very next day she would sell it to a publisher for as much money as she could get.
Then she would walk into The Purple Turtle with Christopher at her side, and when the shopgirl asked if she could help them, Lucy would say, “Yes. We’ll take everything. And gift wrap it, please.”
Chapter Nine
Lucy arrived at the Portland Jetport shortly after six that evening. She was tired, frazzled, hungry for real food, and excited out of her mind. She had enough mental capacity left after the cross-country flight to send Theresa a quick text message saying that she’d made it safely to her first destination. She wasn’t sure they’d have cell reception on Clock Island. Jack Masterson was notoriously private and reclusive these days, but then again, so were most Mainers. Still, she worried Jack’s people would confiscate their phones. Since she had cell service now, she also sent a text message to Mrs. Bailey, asking her to tell Christopher she loved him, and she was safe, in that order.
She’d been told a driver would meet her at the Jetport’s baggage claim and that she should look for a man holding a sign with her name on it. Her flight had landed a little early, so she wasn’t surprised when she didn’t see her driver in the arrivals area. Lucy found a quiet spot to watch the sliding doors. Part of her hoped she might look up and see her parents or sister coming through the doors or waiting by the baggage carousel for her. Stupid, useless hope. Her family had never gone out of their way for her in her entire life. Her grandparents had loved her dearly, but they’d never truly understood how much being discarded hurt her. To them it made sense that the sick child received the lion’s share of attention. Lucy was the lucky one, she was told over and over again. Would she rather have attention, they asked her, or would she rather have her health? If it meant her parents loving her, coming to get her, then she might have cut off an arm for five minutes of their time.
They weren’t waiting for her, obviously. Even if they had known what time her flight landed, they still wouldn’t have come. This was just an old fantasy of hers that refused to die.
Would she ever stop waiting for her family to show up and take her home?
All around her, she watched families reuniting. Parents hugged college kids who didn’t want to be hugged—or at least were pretending they didn’t want to be hugged. Husbands kissed wives. Grandkids swarmed grandparents. A little girl about five years old raced to greet her mother as she came down the escalator. At the bottom, the woman swept the girl off her feet. Lucy smiled as the woman held her daughter to her shoulder and patted her back. As they walked past Lucy, she heard the woman cooing in her daughter’s hair, “Mama loves you. Mama missed you so much.”
See, Mom, Lucy thought. That’s all you had to do. All I wanted was for you to come to my school and let me run into your arms and have you pick me up and carry me away and say, “Mama loves you. Mama missed you so much.”
“Lucy?” She turned and saw an incredibly tall, broad-shouldered man in a black chauffeur’s uniform holding a marker board that read, Lucy Hart.
She picked up her bags. “That’s me.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Lucy.” He took her suitcase from her. “The car’s waiting this way.”
He was in his midfifties with a Bronx accent and a big grin. He led her to the curb to wait for him. Five minutes later, he returned in the largest car she’d ever seen in her life.
“Yikes,” Lucy said as he got out of the car to open the door for her. “This is a monster truck.”
“Stretch Caddy Escalade. Mr. Jack wants the best for his guests. Says he owes it to you kids because you had to hitchhike on boats the last time.”
He opened the door for her, and Lucy peered inside. The back seat was cavernous. She’d been in cars like this before with Sean. They always made her carsick. Or maybe that had just been the company?
“Can I sit in front with you instead?” she asked.
The driver raised his eyebrow and said, “Be my guest.” He shut the back door and opened the front. Lucy got in, and he went around to the driver’s side.