RISE - Part Three (The RISE Series Book 3) by Deborah Bladon Page A
Authors: Deborah Bladon
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relief from the mid-day sun, in Penn Station. I was tempted, for no more than a second or two, to board one of the trains that race to Boston.
I would have been in my mother's home before dusk trying to fill my selfish need to seek comfort in her company. She would have held me in her arms, as all good mothers do when their daughters are disappointed, but when the light fell and she went to her bedroom, the gravity of what my father had done would have hit me even harder.
I see the loss of our family in her eyes and I feel it in the way she clings to me when I hug her each time I visit her. I don't have the strength to see her now. I can't shoulder her disappointment on top of my own. I need my oldest brother there for that or my sister, who is the one who stands tall when the world is crumbling around her.
"Thanks for this." Lilly pulls off the plastic lid to blow on the coffee even though by now, it's lukewarm, at best. "When Clive called me he said he tried your number twice and you weren't answering."
I glance at my purse. I'd lost track of how many times the chime sounded a new call coming in. I had been tempted to reach into my bag to mute the ringer but that would have cast a lure to check the log of missed calls.
As much as I want the comfort in knowing my father has tried to call me to tell me his arrest is all a big misunderstanding, the devastation I'll feel if he hasn't reached out will be silent confirmation that what I saw on television this morning is my new reality.
My dad was my superhero when I fell off my bicycle when I was six-years-old and scraped my brow so badly that I had to have two stitches. He was my best friend when our dog ran away and never came back. He was my protector when a red-haired boy I thought I loved in grade school told me that my eyes were too big for my face.
He has been the only true, and strong, constant in my life since I was a child. Letting go of that to accept that his personal failings are so deep that they've hurt others is something I can't do quite yet.
"I've had a busy day," I say because wandering aimlessly through the streets of Manhattan in shock creates its own unique disarray. "I'll call Clive when I go back to my office."
"You're going back to your office?" She takes a cautious sip of the coffee before her tongue darts out onto her bottom lip. "This is almost cold, Tess. When did you buy it?"
I glance at the pearl encrusted watch on my wrist that Ivy gave to me. It's near six now which means that soon Lilly will take the subway back to her place so she can cuddle her daughter before she spends the evening with her husband.
I want to stall her so I can find the courage to ask her to help me. My father's crimes aren't nearly as severe and life changing as those of her father, but she'll be one of the only people who can sympathize with the dull ache that I feel inside.
I want to believe that Landon will too but it's not that simple anymore. His father knew enough about my dad's sins to land him in jail. At least I think he's in jail. I've built such a tightly woven cocoon around myself today that I haven't looked online, glanced at a television or read any of the headlines on the newspapers at the bodegas I passed.
"Tess?" Her voice is softer now. "Tell me what's wrong."
My bottom lip quivers slightly. I pull my fingers across it to quiet it. I don't want to cry. If I cry I don't know that I'll be able to stop. "Do you need to go home soon?"
Her brow furrows as a piece of her hair falls against her cheek. She pushes it back almost instantly, tucking it behind her ear. "Something's not right. You're not yourself. Clive sounded off too. What is it?"
I've seen Lilly upset before. It happened twice. The first time was when the nanny called to say that Haven had a low grade fever. Lilly had rushed from the restaurant we were dining at and had been in a taxi on her way home within moments.
The second time was when we were at a deli grabbing a sandwich
I would have been in my mother's home before dusk trying to fill my selfish need to seek comfort in her company. She would have held me in her arms, as all good mothers do when their daughters are disappointed, but when the light fell and she went to her bedroom, the gravity of what my father had done would have hit me even harder.
I see the loss of our family in her eyes and I feel it in the way she clings to me when I hug her each time I visit her. I don't have the strength to see her now. I can't shoulder her disappointment on top of my own. I need my oldest brother there for that or my sister, who is the one who stands tall when the world is crumbling around her.
"Thanks for this." Lilly pulls off the plastic lid to blow on the coffee even though by now, it's lukewarm, at best. "When Clive called me he said he tried your number twice and you weren't answering."
I glance at my purse. I'd lost track of how many times the chime sounded a new call coming in. I had been tempted to reach into my bag to mute the ringer but that would have cast a lure to check the log of missed calls.
As much as I want the comfort in knowing my father has tried to call me to tell me his arrest is all a big misunderstanding, the devastation I'll feel if he hasn't reached out will be silent confirmation that what I saw on television this morning is my new reality.
My dad was my superhero when I fell off my bicycle when I was six-years-old and scraped my brow so badly that I had to have two stitches. He was my best friend when our dog ran away and never came back. He was my protector when a red-haired boy I thought I loved in grade school told me that my eyes were too big for my face.
He has been the only true, and strong, constant in my life since I was a child. Letting go of that to accept that his personal failings are so deep that they've hurt others is something I can't do quite yet.
"I've had a busy day," I say because wandering aimlessly through the streets of Manhattan in shock creates its own unique disarray. "I'll call Clive when I go back to my office."
"You're going back to your office?" She takes a cautious sip of the coffee before her tongue darts out onto her bottom lip. "This is almost cold, Tess. When did you buy it?"
I glance at the pearl encrusted watch on my wrist that Ivy gave to me. It's near six now which means that soon Lilly will take the subway back to her place so she can cuddle her daughter before she spends the evening with her husband.
I want to stall her so I can find the courage to ask her to help me. My father's crimes aren't nearly as severe and life changing as those of her father, but she'll be one of the only people who can sympathize with the dull ache that I feel inside.
I want to believe that Landon will too but it's not that simple anymore. His father knew enough about my dad's sins to land him in jail. At least I think he's in jail. I've built such a tightly woven cocoon around myself today that I haven't looked online, glanced at a television or read any of the headlines on the newspapers at the bodegas I passed.
"Tess?" Her voice is softer now. "Tell me what's wrong."
My bottom lip quivers slightly. I pull my fingers across it to quiet it. I don't want to cry. If I cry I don't know that I'll be able to stop. "Do you need to go home soon?"
Her brow furrows as a piece of her hair falls against her cheek. She pushes it back almost instantly, tucking it behind her ear. "Something's not right. You're not yourself. Clive sounded off too. What is it?"
I've seen Lilly upset before. It happened twice. The first time was when the nanny called to say that Haven had a low grade fever. Lilly had rushed from the restaurant we were dining at and had been in a taxi on her way home within moments.
The second time was when we were at a deli grabbing a sandwich
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