Lineage(120)

Lance pulled the door of the Land Rover closed and sat back in the seat, his eyes closed, his fists clenched in his lap. The air within the car felt thick around him, like liquid. The storm had fully arrived, and thunder rolled continuously overhead, sounding like a boulder caught in a tumbling barrel.

A swarm of nurses had met him as he rounded the last corner before the waiting room, most pushing past him without a second look. Only the mousy receptionist questioned him as he tried to glide past the desk unnoticed.

“What happened?” she had called from behind the Plexiglas.

Lance turned, furious at the sneering, accusatory look on her narrow features. “She killed herself,” he said, and kept walking even after her shrill voice yelled for him to stop several times.

A soft beep issued from near his right hand, and he looked down at the dark display of his phone. Someone had called while he was inside. He nearly left the phone where it was, but he wondered if it had been Mary. He hadn’t called her like he’d promised. He picked up the phone off the seat beside him and flipped it on.

Several numbers peppered the screen, listing the people that had called him. Mary’s number was first, and then Andy’s. The last number made him falter. He thumbed the screen to see if a message had been left. There had. Holding the phone to his ear, he waited, listening to the silence before the message began.

“Lance, it’s Ellen. I was hoping to catch you in person. I’m sorry I haven’t called, we didn’t exactly say goodbye on great terms. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did, it wasn’t fair. I have no idea what you’ve gone through and that’s exactly what made me angry in the first place. I guess I shouldn’t have pushed you to tell me if you weren’t ready. It’s a character flaw I have, I always need to know what’s going on, especially if it involves my life. Sorry, I’m rambling.” There was a pause, during which Ellen seemed to weigh her words. “I’ve been talking to Andy over the last few days, and he told me you’re working again. That’s great. And please don’t get mad at him, he loves you. But I don’t need to tell you that. I just really needed to see you. I want to try again, and maybe you can trust me enough to tell me everything someday. Andy gave me directions to your house, so I’m about fifteen minutes away now. I kind of wanted it to be a surprise, and I guess it will be! See you soon, bye.”

The phone dropped from his hand and bounced off the center console. It came to rest face-down on the middle floorboard. Lance could just hear the electronic voice reciting the time and date of the call: “Tuesday, September fourteenth, at 1:17 p.m.” With a shaking hand, he fumbled the key ring from his pocket and finally managed to guide the key into the ignition. The glass display on the dash lit up and glowed the time: 1:35 PM.

His hand grasped the shifter and slammed the SUV into drive. The tires caught on the pavement with a tearing sound, and the Land Rover leaned dangerously to the right as he floored the gas and aimed the car out of the empty lot. He had time to register several blue uniforms exiting the building, their arms waving in frantic motions, but he locked his eyes on the drive before him.

The first raindrop, fat and heavy, splattered against the windshield as he swung the vehicle left out of the driveway and pushed the accelerator to the floor.





Chapter 11



“Coincidence is logical”



—Johan Cruijff



Mary looked up from the words on the page before her when she heard the light tapping sound. For a few puzzling seconds she thought the sounds were coming from behind her, knowing full well that she was the only one in the store. The rows of books sat inert around her, and it was only when she raised her eyes to the windows on the far side of the room that she noticed rain speckling the glass. The storm that had held its humid palm over the area all morning was finally releasing a squall of moisture and wind. Mary watched the maple tree just outside the window, its leaves already turned an array of vivid oranges and yellows, bend back and forth. She saw several leaves fly off, no longer able to hold their moorings with the weather, and disappear from sight. Her mind turned to Lance, and she wondered if he was faring any better than the leaves.

She still didn’t truly know what to make of the man. She felt something for him that had been absent in her last two relationships. She couldn’t quite express it, but the vulnerability that floated just beneath the surface when he spoke to her was what intrigued her the most. If there ever was another person crying out for help without actually doing so, Lance Metzger was it. The way his eyes fluttered away from hers like he was trying to control and make sense of a thousand thoughts at once. The words he’d spoken the night on the shoreline had nudged something inside of her. Something cold and hard that she hadn’t thought anyone else understood. She could think of dozens of reasons not to see him again, but they all paled in comparison to the idea that he might be able to fathom who she truly was—and that he wanted to.