Chapter 8

Rick McKay had always affected Susan. True to form, her heart began to race when she saw him on the other side of the glass. The cause of it this time, though, wasn't excitement but fury. She continued to glare as he turned the handle and let himself in, his handsome face lit by a smile.

"Hey," he said. His eyes never left her face, nor did his smile falter as he leaned against the door to close it. He was clearly delighted to see her, which infuriated Susan all the more.

"If you're looking for your daughter, she just left. She breezed through here with no interest in eating the dinner I took the effort to make-though she did wail for help, child that she is, when she couldn't find the sweater she wanted to wear. It's like nothing has changed! She just made the volleyball team, though I can't imagine she'll be able to play the late games in March, but she's barreling ahead as if everything's okay. Only it isn't. She doesn't seem to see any consequences. But I'm feeling them already. People are talking-and they don't even know about the other two"-she waved the thought away-"I can't begin to go there yet. My boss is furious even without it-at me, not at Lily, at me. What did I do wrong, except raise her the best way I know how?" Eyes tearing, she crossed her arms. "Why are you smiling? This is serious, Rick."

"Boy, have I missed you," he said in that rich voice of his.

"That is irrelevant!" she cried, fighting panic. "We're in a crisis here, only my daughter-your daughter-doesn't seem to understand that. Three girls pregnant? Every time I think about it, I start to shake. If she wanted to rebel, couldn't she have dyed her hair pink, or pierced her navel, or gotten a tattoo?"

"She says it isn't rebellion."

"No," Susan allowed, "not rebellion. She wants a family. So how does that make me feel? I've worked my tail off to be her family. If she was that desperate for a bigger one, she should have told me. I could have adopted a baby. I could have gone to a sperm bank."

"You could have asked me."

"Rick, this isn't funny. She's pregnant, refuses to identify the guy, and doesn't have a clue what her future will be like."

"Would it help if she did?" he asked in a tone so reasonable that Susan's anger ebbed.

"Maybe not." She sighed. "She knows I'll always be there."

"Because you're a good mother."

"I'm a lousy mother," Susan cried, quickly restoked. "I'm behaving badly, and I can't seem to help it. I resent her confidence. I resent her cavalier attitude. I'm even feeling jealous-jealous-because she's going through the same thing I did, only she'll have it easier. I've struggled to get us to this place. People respect me, Rick. I've worked so hard to redeem myself for doing what everyone in my life said was irresponsible, and I actually thought I'd made it. Now Lily has taken that away. Negated everything. I feel betrayed. By a seventeen-year-old."

"She's not just any seventeen-year-old."

"No. So maybe some of my anger is justified-but I'm doing exactly what my mother did, everything I swore I would never do, and that's sick."

His expression softened. Saying nothing, he reached out and brought her close. And, of course, she was lost. He had that power-could clear her mind of rational thought with a touch-not that she was complaining. This was the first respite from worry that she'd had in two weeks. However briefly, her problems were shared.

She didn't know how long they stood there, but she didn't hurry to leave. Everything about Rick was familiar. For all the different places he'd been and people he'd met, he remained the same man-same warmth, same smell, same heartbeat. Her connection with him was as strong as ever.

The slow breath he took as he held her said that he felt the same. Coming after her outburst, that meant a lot.

Finally, raising her head, she managed a small smile. "You're here for Lily's concert."

His eyes were on her mouth. "I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it. My dad's expecting me for Thanksgiving, so I came in across the Pacific, but I kept thinking that Lily and I needed to talk in person. She won't tell me much on the phone. So I touched down in LA and took right off again. I've been traveling for thirty-six hours. Missed every connection possible."

Susan knew Rick. He was a seasoned traveler who could catnap anywhere. But, yes, his eyes were tired. "You need sleep."

"I need a shower more." He glanced at his watch. "How much time before the concert?"

"Thirty minutes."

"Plenty. First a shower." He shot a covetous look at the chicken pot pie that sat on top of the stove. "Is that what she didn't want to eat?"

"It is."

"I do. Can I?"

Susan and Rick arrived at the high school with minutes to spare. With five different groups performing, the auditorium was packed, so they stood at the rear wall. Rick kept ducking back into the lobby until the very last minute, hoping to catch sight of Lily, but none of the singers appeared.

Susan searched the rows of seats for Mary Kate and Jess but didn't see them. She couldn't imagine they wouldn't be there to support Lily-unless they were simply keeping a low profile, which she could totally understand. Hadn't she been content to arrive at the auditorium at the last minute and not have to mingle with parents herself?

The house lights dimmed, and the concert began with performances by the string quartet and the jazz band, before, finally, the Zaganotes ran down the side aisles and onto the stage singing their trademark "Feelin' Groovy." There were a dozen willowy girls, each with long hair swaying, fingers snapping, their smiles vibrant against black turtlenecks.

Lily wasn't among them.

"Where is she?" Rick whispered.

"I have no idea," Susan whispered back. She took out her phone, but there were no messages. She glanced back at the door, but there were no girls waiting to join the others onstage-and besides, the Zaganotes had a dozen singers, and a dozen were already there. Susan knew who was in the group and who wasn't. One of the girls onstage, Claire DuMont, was new.

"Think Lily got sick?" Rick whispered.

"She'd have called," Susan whispered back.

"What if she couldn't, if it was something serious?" He was thinking about the baby, Susan knew.

"One of the other girls would have come to get me."

The group sang Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time," then a spectacular arrangement of Seal's "Kiss from a Rose," but Susan's eyes were on her phone. WHERE R U, she texted and waited nervously. When Lily didn't text back, she slipped out of the auditorium and tried phoning, but the voice that came on was the bright, recorded one saying, "Not here, say where." Rick was beside her, looking as worried as she was, when the phone rang.

"Lily's with me," Mary Kate said. "She's fine."

"Why isn't she singing?"

"The Zaganotes asked her to resign."

"Resign." Susan caught Rick's eye.

"Because she's pregnant."

"Wait. Kristen Hannigan picked her up to drive her to the concert."

"Kristen Hannigan picked her up to tell her the news. Lily made her drop her in town, then she called me."

"Where are you now?"

"Your house."

"I'll be right there."

Lily was huddled in the den, eyes red, tissues in her hand. Her bare feet were tucked under her, the black sweater and jeans replaced by purple sweats. Her hair was messed, a sign of the hasty change of clothes. When she saw Susan, her eyes welled, then grew wider when she saw Rick.

"You came all this way to see the concert?" she cried, tears spilling. "That is so bad!"

"I came to see you," said Rick and, leaning over, gave her a huge hug. "The concert was just an excuse." Drawing back, he brushed at her tears, but they continued to fall.

"How could they do this to me, Mom?" she asked. "I worked for that spot. I earned it. I was at practice all day Sunday and no one said a word, but the whole time they must have been talking behind my back." Angrily, she wiped her cheeks with her palms. "I'll bet Emily Pettee started it. Her mom is a bitch."

"Lily."

"She is. She acts like she's our censor. She has a thing against any song whose lyrics are at all suggestive, so forget doing Amy Wine-house or even the Dixie Chicks. She's always around before concerts making sure that every little last bra strap is hidden. I know she's behind this."

"It doesn't matter-"

"It does, Mom. I love singing."

Susan knew that, and her heart broke. Kneeling, she took Lily's hand. "It doesn't matter who started it," she finished quietly. "If the girls voted, it's done."