“Yes.” Lily took in my frizzled hair and blisters, but said nothing.
“Lily’s been in Montreal since the third,” Ryan said.
The day I testified at the Petit trial.
“Lily and I have been getting to know each other over the past few months.”
Lily shrugged one shoulder, adjusted the strap of her purse.
“I feel the women in my life should also get to know each other.”
The women in his life?
“I’m delighted, Lily.” Jesus! I sounded like a cliche thesaurus.
Lily’s eyes slid to Ryan. He nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Sorry about that phone call. I—I shouldn’t have said you were dumb.”
The woman at Ryan’s place last Thursday had been Lily.
“I understand.” I smiled. “Sharing your father must be very hard.”
Another shoulder shrug, then Lily turned to Ryan. “Can I go now?”
Ryan nodded. “Got your key?”
Lily patted her purse, turned, and walked down the hall.
“Come in.” I stepped back and opened the door wide. “Dad.”
Ryan followed me to the living room, shrugged off his jacket, and dropped onto the couch.
“This is awkward,” I said, curling into an armchair.
“Yes, it is,” Ryan said.
“I didn’t know you had a daughter.”
“Nor did I. Until August.”
The unscheduled trip from Charlotte to Halifax.
“The problem wasn’t your niece.”
“It started out with my niece. After the overdose, I flew to Nova Scotia to help my sister get Danielle into a drug rehab program. One of the nurse’s aides turned out to be a woman I’d known as an undergrad.”
“A student at St. Francis Xavier?”
Ryan shook his head no. “I was. She wasn’t. I was on a wild ride my first two years at St. F-X. Lutetia was a regular at some of my haunts, hung with a rowdy group of young ladies. Called themselves the Holy Sisters of Negotiable Love.”
I tucked my feet under my bum.
“You know the story. My wild ride ended with a severed artery, a bump in the hospital, and a fresh perspective on the college experience. Lutetia and I went our separate ways. I saw her once, maybe five years after graduation, when I returned to Nova Scotia to visit my folks. Lutetia and I ended up”—Ryan hesitated—“sharing one last religious experience. I returned to Montreal, Lutetia went home to the Bahamas, and we lost track of each other.”
“Lily is Lutetia’s daughter,” I guessed.
Nod.
“Lutetia never told you she was pregnant?”
“She was afraid somehow I’d force her to remain in Canada.”
“Did she marry?”
“In the Abacos. Marriage broke up when Lily was twelve. Lutetia moved them both to Halifax.”
Birdie wandered in and rubbed my leg. I reached down and absently scratched his head.
“Why tell you now?”
“Lily had started asking about her biological father. She’d also started pulling some of the same stunts as Danielle. When I showed up…” Ryan spread his hands.
“You weren’t expecting Lily in Montreal?”
“I opened my door and there she was. The little idiot had hitchhiked.”
Birdie nudged me again. I stroked him, feeling, what? Relieved that the prom queen wasn’t a love interest? Disappointed that Ryan hadn’t confided in me?
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Things have been pretty strained between us, Tempe.” Ryan grin. “Probably my fault. I’ve been under some pressure lately. Lily. The meth operation.”
Ryan patted his shirt pocket, remembered my no-smoking ban, dropped his hands to his lap.
“But mostly, I was holding off until I was sure.”
“You asked for proof of paternity?”
