Blood and Fire (McClouds & Friends #8)(5)

Bullshit, Nina said. Your feelings would roll over you like a tank if you let yourself feel them. You’ve driven them underground.

Lily contemplated that grimly. And so? Denial was the way to go. Climb on the hamster wheel to pay off Aingle Cliff. Not a thought for irony or ethics. Swallow the bitter taste in her mouth. Do the jobs, pay the bills, write the checks. Get the tiger by the tail.

Scramble to keep it from tearing her to pieces.

Almost there. Lily snapped the laptop shut and stared at the imposing fa?ade of Aingle Cliff House as they wended up the drive.

Dumb name for the place. No cliffs to be seen. In fact, the place seemed to be situated in a bowl. Hardly a reassuring name for a facility where one stashed people with suicidal tendencies. The first thing Lily thought of when she heard the word “cliff” was a running jump, a long fall, and a splat at the bottom. But then, she was twisted.

The cab stopped. She sat there, like a lump.

“Uh . . . miss?” the cabbie prodded. “Are you, uh . . .”

Lily dug out her wallet. “Can you come pick me up in an hour?”

The cabbie agreed. Lily paid him, uncomfortably aware of how little money was left. She’d put it all into the check she was about to write and had barely enough to get back to the train station. Nothing left over for a tip on the outward-bound cab ride. Ouch.

The cabbie pulled away. Lily’s sneakers crunched on the gravel of the path as she walked up to the imposing building. Patients were out on the grounds, taking in the afternoon sunshine. Not Howard. Patients considered a danger to themselves were kept in a special ward. Howard was special, in that sense. He’d tried to kill himself eight times, maybe more. The episodes had started to blend together after a while.

She’d been fifteen the first time she’d gotten home from school and found him blue-faced, barely breathing. If she’d gone to her after-school tutoring job that day as she’d planned, she’d have found him thoroughly dead. Which had, of course, been his intent.

That day, she stopped calling him Dad. She was the adult, not him. Had been for years. Her mother had died the day she was born, so there had been no one to miss in the mom slot. It had always been her and Howard. Or Dad, as she’d called him in the old days. Before.

But before . . . what? It still tormented her. It hadn’t always been like this. Dad had been a research physician, a sought-after expert in emerging IVF technologies, back in the good old days. He’d been a crappy cook and a worse housekeeper, but so much fun. Smart, funny.

They’d been close. They’d had their own special schtick. Lily and Dad, comedy duo. The two of them against the world. Watching classic horror movies on Saturday afternoons, playing cards, choffing Chinese food. Sunday picnics in the park, with deli sandwiches, Mint Milano cookies, and Snapple.

And then it all went to hell, when she was about ten. Abruptly, Dad had stopped working and started sitting around the house in his barobe in a bourbon-soaked stupor. It got worse. Progressed to harder drugs. Sometimes she’d wake at night and find him on his knees by her bed, tears streaming down his face. Freaked her out, big-time.

Lily signed the guest book and headed to the administrative office, where she wrote out her monthly blackmail payment to her deepest fears. She exchanged bland chitchat with the staff, and when she could think of no other earthly reasons to procrastinate, she headed into the elevator and went up to the fourth floor. Howard’s ward.

The fourth-floor ward was guarded. She exchanged smiles with the security guy. He unlocked the door and waved her in.

She jerked back as Howard’s door opened. Miriam came out, one of Howard’s nurses. Not Lily’s favorite, though the thought was unworthy. Miriam Vargas was a light-skinned black woman, supermodel gorgeous, with bee-stung lips and a body that was sexy even in baggy scrubs. Though that wasn’t what bugged Lily. Miriam was just too bouncy for Lily’s mood. It grated on her. Made her feel like a stone-cold bitch, being annoyed by mere friendliness, but there it was.

Miriam flashed spectacular teeth. “Lily! How are you?”

“OK.” Lily tried to return the smile, but it was a purely muscular effort. “How is he doing?”

Miriam’s smile faded. “He’s been a little agitated for the last couple days. I planned to talk to Dr. Stark about it when he comes in today. He may need to have his meds reevaluated. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you, though! You’ll perk him right up!”

Hah. Lily was not about to argue with that supposition today. She let out a sharp sigh and went on in. The room was pleasant, with a nice view of the wooded grounds, but Howard wasn’t looking at the view. He was hunched up on the bed, hugging his knees. Rocking.

Alarm bells jangled inside her. That obsessive rocking had often preceded his suicide attempts. “Howard?” she asked gently.

He looked up. His pale, wasted face was wet, eyes streaming.

“How can you forgive me, Lil?” he asked.

Lily suppressed an urge to roll her eyes. Howard didn’t need any snotty attitude from her to compound his misery. She sank down near his bed. “I already have forgiven you,” she said, wondering if it was true. How could she know, if her real emotions were in hiding?

Aw, hell with it. It was true enough, she decided. Howard was forgiven. By executive decision from on high, and feelings had no part in the decision. This was not a democracy. This was fricking martial law.