Delusion Road (23 page)

And then Keegan was thinking of Bailey running through the trees behind them, fleeing the asshole in the Thunderbird. He wondered if she’d ever be able to trust another guy, to ever be alone with somebody again without reliving that experience, feeling that same panic inflate inside her.

Willa sat without speaking, and Keegan would have been content to let the moment play out. But then she turned to him. “He brought me here on our first date,” she said. “We’d gone to see a movie in New Minas, and he drove up here on our way home. The sky was clear and the moon looked like a white fingernail—”

Her voice caught, and Keegan could see on her face what she was thinking. Fingernails. How Bailey had used hers. And
when
she’d used them—while Willa was standing in her gown at the Rotary fundraiser, waiting for Wynn. Keegan wondered if you could get blood out of a tux. Hoped not.

Her eyelids brimming, Willa opened the console between
their seats and pulled out some tissues, wiping her eyes rather than dabbing at them as Bailey had done. She was smearing her mascara, making her eyes look raccoon-like, but she didn’t seem to care. “The thing is,” she continued, “Wynn was a perfect gentleman that night.”

She paused, but he got the impression that she wasn’t finished, that there was more she wanted to say about that evening. He was right.

“There were a couple other cars parked here with their windows steamed up, but all he did was put his arm around me. It was early April so the car cooled down fast when he turned it off, and he kept me warm. He didn’t try any of the things other guys do even on first dates, and I was really impressed by that. I felt safe with him.” She shook her head, probably thinking of how Bailey would respond to that comment. “He was a perfect gentleman,” she repeated. “And he’s
always
been that way with me. We’ve never even—” Her voice caught again, and then she was crying.

Keegan had no idea what to do. Her weeping was a tortured sound, and her shoulders shook as though the ground beneath them was shuddering. Without thinking, he leaned toward her over the console separating them and put his arm around her. And then, remembering what she’d said about Wynn, he was sure it was exactly the wrong thing to do.

But it wasn’t.

She leaned into him as her body heaved with sobs, her face buried in his neck, her tears seeping into his shirt. Her golden hair smelled like peaches but somehow
not
like them. Richer, fuller. He felt his body responding to her scent, to the velvety feel
of her face against his skin, to the heat rising off both of them. What had she said a moment ago?
We’ve never even
—How could that be true? How could Wynn never have done with Willa what Keegan suddenly felt himself wanting to do now? But then he remembered how Wynn had responded to Bailey here, remembered what the guy had tried to do to her, and he felt ashamed.

Seeming to sense the change in him, Willa pulled away, wiping her eyes with more tissues before blowing her nose. When she looked up, her raccoon appearance was even more startling. But somehow, he thought, she was even prettier.

“I think I ruined your shirt,” she said, still sniffling.

He shrugged. “Forget it.”

She blew her nose again, her eyes turned toward the windshield and that amazing view. And then, incredibly, she grinned.

“Something funny?” he asked.

“I just remembered the date.”

“Today’s?”

“No,” she said and began to laugh, the sound like bells ringing as tears glistened again in her eyes. But they weren’t like her tears before. “The day he brought me here,” she said, gulping as she spoke. “It was probably an omen, but I guess I missed it.” And she laughed even harder.

“An omen?”

By now she was wheezing, and when she was finally able to force it out, her answer was a breathless gasp. “It was April first!”

April Fool’s Day.

And then both of them were laughing.

Standing by the fence, Willa was showing him various points of interest in the valley below. They’d left the SUV a few minutes earlier, and he was surprised at the turn their conversation had taken, but he figured she needed to talk about something different from the horror that was Wynn d’Entremont. Something normal.

She told him a little about the area’s agricultural background, which was more than evident from their vantage point now. But not speaking about Wynn didn’t mean she wasn’t thinking about him, and her talk of the area’s history morphed slowly into talk of her own.

Keegan was surprised to learn she hadn’t dated much before Wynn, but she explained that the pool of guys her age in Brookdale wasn’t large, something he’d seen himself. The few she did date, she said, were “nice enough,” but not guys she was actually attracted to. One of them, in fact, was Todd Thomas, who’d gone out with her a few times two years ago before moving on to Britney Lamontagne. Willa had actually been relieved when that happened. “Todd isn’t what you’d call deep,” she said, something Keegan had figured out from the handful of English and math classes they’d shared. “There are only two topics of conversation that ever hold that guy’s attention,” she added, and Keegan could guess what they were: sports and sex.

So, she told Keegan, when Wynn d’Entremont had transferred from Halifax to Brookdale a year ago, he’d seemed somehow exotic, far different from most of the boys she’d grown up with. For one thing, he oozed confidence, which drew people to him immediately. For another, he wasn’t just a jock—his GPA was nearly as high as hers. “He was the whole package,” she said softly.

“Were you in love with him?”

She blinked as if abruptly awakened from a sleep that had lasted far too long. “Here’s this great-looking guy,” she said, “smart, incredible athlete, comes from a good family, his dad’s the mayor, what girl
wouldn’t
fall in love with him?”

He said nothing, and she seemed to realize she hadn’t answered his question. “I think I was in love with the
idea
of being in love with him. And I liked the way people looked at us when we were together. Like we belonged together. Does that make any sense?” Before he could answer, she finished quietly, “And finally I wasn’t the fifth wheel any more with Britney and Todd and Celia and Jay.”

He heard the loneliness in her voice then, a feeling he knew only too well, and he wanted to wrap her in his arms again—for himself as much as for her. But then she seemed to draw herself up, straightening her body, and he saw the muscles in her jaw tighten. “You know what they say about hindsight?”

He nodded.

“Not that it makes a difference now,” she continued, “but I think all along I knew something wasn’t right about him. I chalked it up to competitiveness, that need of his to finish first, always come out on top.” She paused, looking out over the valley as if seeking the answer to a question she’d never been brave enough to ask before. “I knew he was dangerous.”

“Did he—?”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “Like I said, he was always a gentleman. But there was an edge to him that surprised me sometimes, unsettled me. Like today, when he ragged on you for not being able to play soccer. I hate to admit it, especially now, but I used to find that part of him exciting.” She shook her head.
“Pathetic, right? Like I’m twelve again with braces and a bad-boy complex.”

The silence that followed her confession hung in the air between them as he wondered how to respond. Fortunately, he didn’t have to.

“But he’s more dangerous than I thought,” she said, looking up again.

“Yeah,” said Keegan, “Bailey certainly proved that.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She told him about the absence of the d’Entremonts’ housekeeper. “I think he tried something with her, too.”

“You said she’s from Jamaica?”

“You see the pattern, right?” she said. “He picks girls who’d have a hard time speaking up for themselves. And what’s worse is that he doesn’t believe what he’s doing is wrong. It’s like—” She paused, and he could tell she was trying to find the words for what she’d watched unfold in the d’Entremonts’ backyard. “It’s like he doesn’t even see them as people, as human beings. He feels entitled to do whatever he wants with them.”

“Jesus,” Keegan breathed. “A sociopath.”

“And not only that, I think his father—”

“Knows about him,” he finished for her.

She looked at him with startled eyes. “How’d you know?”

Keegan told her about the conversation he’d overheard in the washroom during the Rotary fundraiser, a conversation he only now understood. “That must be the reason his wife left him. She must’ve given him an ultimatum.”

“And he chose Wynn over her,” said Willa.

Another silence settled around them, and it was then that
Keegan decided what needed to be done. Earlier, he’d told Willa that Bailey refused to press charges and he’d given her his word that he’d tell no one what Wynn had done. So that left only one resort. If he was going to put an end to Bailey’s harassment, he’d have to confront Wynn himself.

He knew, of course, all the arguments against it. This wasn’t his battle—after all, he’d only met Bailey a week ago. And taking on Wynn d’Entremont would probably mean taking on Todd Thomas and Jay Underwood and all the other goons who’d cheered for Wynn on the soccer field that day in phys ed. Keegan could expect some serious ass-kicking, which was in direct violation of the prime directive. Visibility like that could blow up in all their faces.

But sometimes you didn’t have a choice, right? Sometimes the battle came to you.

“I
t has to stop,” Keegan told Willa. “I’m going to call him on it. Threaten him if I have to.”

“No,” said Willa. “You can’t.” She felt awful, especially after everything he’d done for her that afternoon. She had no idea what she would’ve done if he hadn’t suddenly appeared at Memorial Park. She’d longed to share with her mother what had happened but it wasn’t something she could do over the phone, and certainly not with Celia’s mom within earshot, so being able to talk with Keegan about her relationship with Wynn had been a blessing—she’d somehow purged herself of whatever feelings she’d had for him. And in a way she didn’t really understand, it had actually been easier opening up to Keegan than it would have been with Celia and Britney. She still didn’t know what she was going to say to her friends about all this, but that could wait. She had to keep Keegan from confronting Wynn.

Keegan scowled. “Tell me you’re not
protecting
that son of a bitch. After everything he’s done?”

“Of course not. It’s just there are others to think about.”

“Others?”

Willa recounted the problems facing Valley Motors and the importance of the upcoming contract. “Wynn doesn’t know you found out about this when I did. If you threaten him, he’ll think I’ve been talking to people about what he’s done and he’ll get his dad to screw up the deal.” She wasn’t surprised to see Keegan’s face darken—it was clear he was reacting like she initially had, assuming that money was buying their silence. “Think about all those people who work for my father,” she continued. “With the economy the way it is, not many could find work around here. Your dad probably couldn’t. Would another move so soon be good for your family? Would it be good for Isaac?”

The sudden resignation in his eyes told her that last question had hit home. But she could see something else in them, too. “All I can say,” he murmured, “is that sick son of a bitch had better not try anything else.”

“T
hanks for dropping me off,” said Keegan as Willa pulled into his driveway.

He saw her eyes drift toward his house. “Can I ask you a question?” she asked.

Uh-oh, he thought. “What?”

“I was just wondering …” She paused. “I know it’s none of my business, but why’d you say your mother was dead?”

Keegan flushed, turning away so she wouldn’t see the truth in his eyes.

When Willa spoke again, her voice was softer. “Your dad told mine how she left years ago. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Keegan. Half the kids in our homeroom have parents who are divorced or separated.”

He nodded, struggling not to give in to the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. He cleared his throat. “It’s easier,” he began, already regretting the lie he was going to tell.

“What’s easier?” she asked.

“To think of her as dead instead of somebody who’d just leave and never come back.”

Willa didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “It must’ve been tough.”

“It’s been harder on Isaac.”

“Do you think he understands what happened?”

Keegan turned to her again. “I’m pretty sure Isaac understands everything. It’s just that he doesn’t have ways to show us what’s going on in his head. Ways that make sense to us, anyway.”

She gave him a humourless smile. “After today, I’d say there’s a lot that doesn’t make sense.”

He nodded. “You know, you really surprised me.”

“Me? How?”

“The way you’ve handled all this. What you were willing to do about it. Gutsy.”

She smiled again, but this time it was genuine. “I guess maybe I surprised myself.” She brushed a lock of hair from her eyes and, even in the diminishing daylight, her blond head seemed luminous. “You surprised me, too,” she continued. “You went out of your way for me, big-time. And I don’t even know you. Not really.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thanks for listening, Keegan, letting me talk it all through. It really helped.”

He nodded, getting out and watching as she backed out of the driveway, then drove down Maple Avenue, waiting at the stop sign for traffic to pass before pulling out onto Main Street. The whole time he stood there he could feel the warmth of her hand on his.

When the SUV disappeared from view, Keegan turned and continued down the driveway. It was only when he reached the back step that he realized he was whistling. He grinned, shaking his head as he opened the back door.

Sitting at the kitchen table, his father looked up from his newspaper. “Your dinner’s in the oven. I cooked a roast. I figured we’d
had enough chicken for a while. I bought a big one so there’ll be plenty left over for sandwiches.”