The Lucky One(53)

“Once,” he admitted.

“Recently?”

“No. Years ago. When I was in college.”

“What was she like?”

He seemed to search for the right word. “Earthy,” he offered.

She said nothing, but her expression told him she wanted more.

“Okay,” he continued. “She was a women’s studies major, and she favored Birkenstocks and peasant skirts. She despised makeup. She wrote opinions for the student newspaper and championed the causes of pretty much every sociological group in the world except white males and the rich. Oh, and she was a vegetarian, too.”

She studied him. “For some reason, I can’t see you with someone like that.”

“Neither could I. And neither could she. Not in the long run, anyway. But for a while, it was surprisingly easy to overlook our obvious differences. And we did.”

“How long did it last?”

“A little more than a year.”

“Do you ever hear from her anymore?”

He shook his head. “Never.”

“And that’s it?”

“Aside from a couple of high school crushes, that’s it. But bear in mind that the last five years haven’t exactly been conducive to starting new relationships.”

“No, I don’t suppose so.”

Zeus got up and stared down the drive, his ears twitching. Alert. It took a moment, but Thibault heard the faint sound of a car engine, and in the distance, a broad, dispersed light flashed in the trees before it began to narrow. Someone pulling up the drive. Elizabeth frowned in confusion before a sedan slowly rounded the corner and came toward the house. Even though the lights from the porch didn’t illuminate the drive, Thibault recognized the car and sat up straighter. It was either the sheriff or one of his deputies.

Elizabeth recognized it as well. “This can’t be good,” she muttered.

“What do you think they want?”

She stood from her spot on the porch. “It’s not a they. It’s a him. My ex-husband.” She started down the steps and motioned toward him. “Just wait here. I’ll handle this.”

Thibault motioned for Zeus to sit and stay as the car pulled to a stop beside Elizabeth’s car at the far end of the house. Through the bushes, he saw the passenger door open and watched as Ben got out, dragging his backpack behind him. He started toward his mother, keeping his head down. When the driver’s-side door opened, Deputy Keith Clayton stepped out.

Zeus let out a low growl, alert and ready, waiting for Thibault’s command to go after the guy. Elizabeth glanced at Zeus in surprise until Ben stepped into the light. Thibault noticed the absence of Ben’s glasses and the black-and-blue bruises around Ben’s eye at the same moment Elizabeth did.

“What happened!” she cried, hurrying toward her son. She squatted to get a better look. “What did you do?”

“It’s nothing,” Clayton responded, approaching them. “It’s just a bruise.”

Ben turned away, not wanting her to see.

“What about his glasses?” Elizabeth said, still trying to make sense of it. “Did you hit him?”

“No, I didn’t hit him. Christ! I wouldn’t hit him. Who do you think I am?”

Elizabeth didn’t seem to hear him and focused her attention on her son. “Are you all right? Oh, that looks bad! What happened, sweetie? Are your glasses broken?”

She knew he wouldn’t say anything until after Clayton left. Tilting his face up to hers, she could see the vessels had burst in his eye, leaving it bloody.

“How hard did you throw it?” she demanded, her expression horrified.

“Not too hard. And it’s just a bruise. His eye is fine, and we managed to tape his glasses back together.”

“It’s more than a bruise!” Elizabeth’s voice rose, barely controlled.

“Stop acting like this is my fault!” Clayton barked.

“It is your fault!”

“He’s the one who missed it! We were just playing catch. It was an accident, for God’s sake! Wasn’t it, Ben? We were having fun, right?”

Ben stared at the ground. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

“Tell her what happened. Tell her it wasn’t my fault. Go ahead.”

Ben shifted from one foot to the other. “We were playing catch. I missed the ball and it hit me in the eye.” He held up his glasses, crudely taped at the bridge and the top of one lens with duct tape. “Dad fixed my glasses.”

Clayton held up his palms. “See? No big deal. Happens all the time. It’s part of the game.”

“When did this happen?” Elizabeth demanded.

“A few hours ago.”

“And you didn’t call me?”

“No. I took him to the emergency room.”

“The emergency room?”

“Where else was I supposed to take him? I knew I couldn’t bring him back here without having him checked out, so I did. I did what any responsible parent would do, just like you did when he fell off the swing and broke his arm. And if you remember, I didn’t get all crazy on you, just like I don’t get crazy about you letting him play in the tree house. The thing is a death trap.”

She seemed too shocked to speak, and he shook his head in disgust. “Anyway, he wanted to go home.”