The Redemption Of Lillie Rourke
She’s ready for that second chance...
But will he believe she’s changed?
When she fled Baltimore after a near-fatal accident that left her dependent on painkillers, Lillie Rourke had lost everything. Now, emotionally healed, she’s ready to make amends and start over. But Jase Yeager has moved on, and who can blame him? Yet Lillie isn’t giving up—on her or them. Earning back Jase’s trust won’t be easy, but Lillie’s no stranger to challenges...
LOREE LOUGH once sang for her supper. That space reserved in pubs for “the piano lady”? Well, that’s where she sat, strumming her Yamaha in cities all over the United States and Canada. Now and then, she blows the dust from the old six-string to croon a tune or two, but mostly, she writes. She feels blessed that most of her stories have earned four- and five-star reviews, but what Loree is most proud of are her Readers’ Choice Awards.
Loree and her husband live in a Baltimore suburb and enjoy spending time at their cozy cabin in Pennsylvania’s Allegheny Mountains (where she has nearly perfected her critter-tracking skills). They have two lovely daughters and seven “grandorables,” and because she believes in giving back, Loree donates generously to charity (see the full list at loreelough.com).
Loree loves hearing from her readers, some of whom have become lifelong friends! Find her on Facebook, Twitter or Pinterest.
Also By Loree Lough
By Way of the Lighthouse
The Man She Knew
Bringing Rosie Home
Those Marshall Boys
Once a Marine
Sweet Mountain Rancher
The Firefighter’s Refrain
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk
The Redemption of Lillie Rourke
Loree Lough
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-08496-3
THE REDEMPTION OF LILLIE ROURKE
© 2018 Loree Lough
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk
“You’re crying again.”
Lillie swiped at her traitorous tears. What right did she have to feel sorry for herself? Her disappointments had been self-inflicted, unlike those she’d thrust onto Jase.
Before she knew what was happening, he’d drawn her into a loose hug.
“I know how hard you’ve been trying, Lill.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “It’s clear you’re working hard to stay clean. This time.”
Who knew two little words could sting as much as a cold slap?
Lillie tried to back away, but the powder room was small. She had nowhere to go.
“Like I said before, you’re stubborn. You can beat this thing...if you want it badly enough.”
Lillie felt like shouting, If? This time? I’ve already beat it! I’ve been clean for more than a year, and I’m going to stay that way!
It wasn’t until he lifted her chin on a bent forefinger that she realized she’d said it all out loud.
“I know that, and I’m proud of you.”
Lillie studied his face, searching for signs of sincerity. Or doubt. Relief flooded through her when a slow smile lit his face. She summoned every ounce of willpower she had.
Because if he kept looking at her that way—the way he had before she’d destroyed them—Lillie feared she might say something to mess up the little bit of good she’d just earned in his eyes.
Dear Reader,
Whether we’ve watched a loved one plummet to rock bottom, supported a friend whose family member has succumbed to the disease or been there ourselves, addiction has touched so many of us.
It’s a complex illness, and like diabetes or cancer, ongoing management and support services can help people cope with their disease. There are plenty of effective treatments that can eliminate an addict’s dependence on addictive substances.
My objective in writing The Redemption of Lillie Rourke was to give a glimpse into the mind of a young woman whose journey into addiction wasn’t the result of peer pressure, depression or escape from a horrific past. Rather, Lillie had it all: a loyal family, caring friends and the love of Jase Yeager, a good and decent man.
If you or a loved one is grappling with addiction, I hope you’ll seek help. It’s out there, just waiting for you to benefit from it. These resources are a great place to start:
National Institute on Drug Abuse: nida.nih.gov; 301-443-1124
National Institute of Mental Health: nimh.nih.gov; 1-866-615-6464
Substance Abuse Treatment Facility Locator: findtreatment.samhsa.gov; 1-800-662-HELP
SMART Recovery: smartrecovery.org; 440-951-5357
Wishing you happiness and health,
Loree
This novel is dedicated to every reader who has ever purchased a Loree Lough book. Without your staunch support, I’d probably spend my days alphabetizing my pantry and spice cabinet, color-coordinating my closets, and rearranging bric-a-brac and knickknacks in my display cabinets.
Acknowledgments
Sincere thanks to Dan Remington, Steve Balore, Susan Griffin and Jennifer Myers, whose willingness to talk about their former dependence on drugs and alcohol enabled me to better understand and describe the challenges faced by those coping with addiction. Thanks, too, to Emily Yost (Cognitive Behavioral Therapist), and Martin Wilson, PhD, for their insights into the mind and behavior of the addict.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction
Dear Reader
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Extract
About the Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
RAIN SHEETED DOWN the grimy window and puddled on the blacktop, and a dozen identical buses lined up in angled parking slots.
Lillie watched as grim-faced passengers boarded, a few pulling wheeled suitcases, others hauling overstuffed backpacks. As they jockeyed for overhead bins, the scent of damp wool and denim filled the space. And, she realized, someone was eating a tuna sandwich. She hoped its owner would finish it soon, because inhaling the fishy odor wouldn’t make the four-hour trip any easier.
“Are you saving this seat for someone?”
Lillie’s gaze traveled from the man’s haggard face to his frayed sweatshirt and holey jeans. Something told her he hadn’t paid top dollar for the distressed look. The passengers waiting in line behind him seemed equally interested in her answer, so Lillie gathered up her jacket and purse.
“Don’t worry,” he said, settling in beside her. “I don’t bite.”
“That’s good to know.”
His right forefinger aimed at the straps of the backpack nestled in her lap. “I don’t steal either, so...”
She relaxed her grip, but only a bit.
“Going all the way to Florida?”
“No.” As the driver buckled himself in, she slid the backpack to the floor. “Only as far as Baltimore.”
“Ah. A surprise Mother’s Day visit, huh?”
Lillie nodded, watching the driver adjust his rearview mirror, fire up the motor and close the door. It had been dumb luck that she’d get home in time to celebrate the day with her mom. She’d missed the annual cookout last year, thanks to Rising Sun’s strict don’t-leave-the-grounds policy. And in all honesty, she hadn’t been fully present the year before that, thanks to—
“My mom moved to Orlando couple years back. That’s where I’m headed.”
Another nod. Perhaps her nonanswers would send a not interested in talking message.
But he said, “Don’t mind admitting, I’m not looking forward to it.”
Lillie knew the feeling.
“Because last time I saw her, I was falling-down drunk.” He winced, then hung his head. “I apologized. Promised I’d quit. But that look on her face...”
The look that said “I don’t believe you.” Lillie cringed, remembering it on her parents’ faces. Her siblings’. Worse yet, on Jase’s handsome face.
Her seatmate sighed in frustration. Or maybe it was regret.
“That’s what finally convinced me to sign into rehab—that look, I mean—and what kept me clean these past two years.”
A recovering addict, going home to make amends, and to prove that he’d kicked the habit, once and for all.
Just like you, Lill. Except that he’d been sober a whole year longer than she had.
Of all the empty seats on this bus, why had he chosen the one beside her?
He held out a hand. “Gabe Sheffield.”
“Lillie Rourke,” she said, taking it.
She’d learned in rehab that to truly come to terms with drug or alcohol dependence, addicts had to admit their own culpability in the addiction. Lillie had managed to take full responsibility with the staff at Rising Sun, but wasn’t at all sure she could pull it off with the people she’d hurt.
For one thing, her parents and siblings would have questions, and so would Jase. She owed them straightforward answers. What better way to practice dealing with the ugly facts than by confessing them with someone she’d never see again?
“I was in rehab, too.”
“Yeah?” He studied her face. “You could have fooled me.”
“Why?”
“You don’t look desperate, or like you have something to prove.”
During her final group therapy session, that was exactly what a fellow patient feared most. Until that moment, she hadn’t given it a thought. Funny, because she felt both right now.
“Sixteen months ago,” she continued, “I signed myself into Rising Sun. It was a really intense time.”
“How long?”
“Seven weeks.”
Gabe’s brow furrowed as he considered her words. “You beat the addiction in less than the normal amount of time?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Rising Sun, huh? Isn’t that the place where movie stars go?”
Lillie knew how fortunate she’d been to have had Pete in her corner; his steady and generous contributions to the facility helped allow her to take advantage of the facility’s groundbreaking treatments.
“Actually, a friend pulled some strings. I did odd jobs there in exchange for room and board and sessions with the staff.”
“Cool.” Then, “Did you get any autographs while you were there?”
She’d met a major-league baseball player, a well-known country singer and half a dozen Broadway stars. But she felt protective of their anonymity.
“All that matters is that I’ve been out for a year now, working pretty much nonstop, and saving to repay...everyone.”
“Yeah, we tend to rack up some big-time debts, don’t we.”
Lillie bristled. She hadn’t minded being treated like every other resident at Rising Sun, so why did it bother her when this guy assumed he and she were alike?
“So is Baltimore home, or just a payback stop?”
“It’s both.”
Lillie had grown up in the big old house that had become her parents’ B and B. They didn’t know it yet, but Lillie had no intention of accepting a salary for helping out in the kitchen, serving meals and cleaning guest rooms. And although they’d try to talk her out of finding another job to fill the hours when they didn’t need her, that was exactly what she intended to do. Sending money to her siblings, the guys in the band and Jase’s mother had been easy. Earning back their trust wouldn’t be.
Jase? Jase would be another matter entirely.
She thought about what Jase had said that last night. If only there had been venom in his words, or if he’d ordered her to leave. Slammed a door. Something. If he had, she might have learned to live with it. Instead, when Jase found out that she’d stolen the band’s money for a handful of pills, he had looked...
After all this time, the only word she could come up with to describe it was wounded.
Lillie closed her eyes and remembered how she’d gone through the well-rehearsed list of apologies he’d heard far too many times before. Promises that nothing like this would ever happen again. Claims that this time, this time, she’d get help. For the longest time, he’d just stared, grim-faced and slump-shouldered, then quietly ground out, “The guys have bills to pay, too, you know. When are you gonna realize your needs aren’t more important than everybody else’s?”
“Say, Lillie,” Gabe said, breaking into her thoughts, “maybe you can help me make a tough decision. You know, since you understand things.”
“I stink in the advice department.”
He shrugged. “My older brother lives in Florida, too. It’s the main reason our mom moved down there. He owns a landscaping company. Offered me a job and a place to stay. You know, until I get on my feet.” Gabe paused. “But I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I’m godfather to his thirteen-year-old son, see, and not to toot my own horn, but the kid’s crazy about me.”
Lillie thought of her brother’s twins, who’d once lit up at the sight of her, and wondered if Sam had told the girls that their beloved aunt was a drug addict.
“You’re worried that if you spend too much time around your nephew, you’ll be a bad example?”
“Bingo.”
The bus merged with traffic on 28th Street, and Gabe shifted in his seat.
“Your brother told your nephew...everything?”
“That’s just it,” Gabe said. “I don’t know.”
He looked as distraught as she felt. Disappointing people was tough. She’d certainly learned that the hard way.
“Well, even if the boy knows, that’s not such a bad thing, is it? I mean, you made a mistake—”
“Lots of mistakes.”
“—but you made things right, and stayed clean for a long time. What better example can you set than that?”
Who are you trying to convince, Lill? Gabe? Or yourself?
“Maybe...” And then, “So how’d you get into, ah, trouble?” He held up his hand again. “If I’m poking my nose where it doesn’t belong, say the word.”
Lillie reminded herself that this was the perfect opportunity to practice the difficult “I was a mess and I’m sorry” speech before she had to deliver it yet again...to Jase, the one person she hadn’t repaid. Yet.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “A little over three years ago, my car was T-boned by a city bus.”
“Holy smokes. How badly were you hurt?”
Lillie stared at the jagged white scar that crossed the back of her right hand, and instinctively covered it with her left. “There were seven operations...” To repair her shattered left leg and arm, and the ribs that had punctured her lung. Even after all this time, nightmares about the impact still had the power to shake her from deep sleep.
“Then I spent a month in an inpatient rehab center—the physical therapy kind—followed by months more of outpatient work.”
“Holy smokes,” Gabe repeated. “That’s one brutal story.” He paused. “Did the transit system pay the medical bills?”
“Yes, they were very accommodating.”
“So the trouble started when your doctors put you on pain meds?”
“More like when they decided I didn’t need them anymore.”
“And?”
Admittedly, the pain had been excruciating, making it next to impossible to climb to her second-floor apartment—especially when hauling groceries—or to stand onstage for hour-long intervals or sleep more than an hour at a time.
“There were three doctors. My surgeon. My regular guy. And my shrink. Little did I know, they compared notes. And when they realized I was hooked on the meds, they cut me off.”
“Harsh,” Gabe said. “Wouldn’t it have been better to wean you slowly?”
“Maybe.” But given how totally dependent she’d grown, maybe not.
“So you had to find other ways to cut the pain...”
It should have been easy to admit. It wasn’t. And so Lillie said, “What about you?”
Gabe shrugged. “Nothing as dramatic or understandable as a car wreck. No, I was the stereotypical spoiled brat with too much time on his hands and too much money in his pockets. Got in with the wrong crowd—although at the time they sure didn’t seem like the wrong crowd—and the rest is history.”
It wasn’t unusual for recovering addicts to be tough on themselves. Unfortunately, the self-deprecating mindset, her counselors said, was responsible for more addicts relapsing than just about anything else.
“Still,” she reminded him, “your mom inspired you to get help.”
“She’s only half the reason. I watched a pal OD on crack.” He grimaced and his voice trailed off, a clear sign that he’d recalled a raw memory. “I got real serious about rehab after that.” He turned slightly. “So when you got off the prescription meds, what cut the pain?”
“Hydrocodone, mostly.”
“As in Watson-387?”
“That, and half a dozen other types of pills supplied by my go-to guy.” Although she hadn’t touched drugs or alcohol since entering rehab, it shamed Lillie to admit that she’d washed down hydro, norco, vic, and more—with dry gin—and paid for it with money taken from those who cared most about her. Her sister and her husband. Her brother and his wife. Her parents. Her best friend. The guys in the band.
It had been humiliating, facing each of them, stammering through clumsy apologies, voice quaking and hands shaking as she returned every dollar. Though she didn’t believe she’d earned their forgiveness, they’d been gracious, smiling as they told her to stay in touch and take care of herself. Had they meant it?
She’d saved the toughest encounter for last. Jase...
“Your friend,” Gabe began, “the one who hooked you up with the Rising Sun people...is he a boyfriend?”
That inspired a smile. “No, Pete owns a pub in the Bronx. We met when my agent booked me to sing with his house band. I was barely eighteen, and he looked out for me.”
“Like a big brother.”
“Exactly.” Pete was the first person she’d turned to after that last night with Jase, when it became clear that she’d gotten completely out of control.
“So—to quote my grandpa—you’re footloose and fancy-free?”
Lillie had no idea how to answer him. Jase likely wouldn’t want anything to do with her, other than to accept repayment of the money she’d taken. If that was the case, she’d deal with it, somehow... In all this time, she hadn’t entertained thoughts of starting a relationship with someone new. He’d been her first true love, and he’d probably be her last. In her mind and heart, she hadn’t yet earned the right to romance or happiness.
“This Pete guy, he’s got connections at Rising Sun because he’s a recovering addict?”
“Yes. They helped him kick his addictions, so when he inherited a lot of money, he donated a chunk to them. He’d been into the hard stuff. Heroin. Mescaline. You name it, Pete did it. And almost died when someone sold him a bad batch of H.”
“Yeah, I can see how that’d scare a dude straight.”
“That, and finding out he had a child.”
“Whoa.” Gabe nodded. “The whole set-a-good-example thing, like me.” He reached into his duffle bag and withdrew two bottles of water. After handing one to Lillie, he said, “So you’ve been clean for a year?”
“Fourteen months.” And sixteen days...
He unscrewed the cap, took several gulps. “You said you were on the road before this all happened?”
“Mmm-hmm. I was a singer. Hotel lounges, mostly, but now and then, my agent would book me with a band. I saw a lot of this country through bus windows.” Until Jase, when she’d been more than content to stand on the same stage, singing into the same mic, every night for nearly a year before—
“Play an instrument?”
“Guitar. Practically the only thing I owned that I didn’t sell for, well, you know.”
“Yeah, I do.” He picked at the bottle’s label. “I have an Ovation. Belonged to my grandfather. And like you, it’s one of a handful of things I held on to.”
“Mine is handcrafted. It’s a MacCubbin. It has a great sound.” Jase had scrimped to give it to her the Christmas before she left for Rising Sun. While living at the center—and ever since—she’d taken the instrument from its plush-lined case only to change the strings and buff the Brazilian rosewood to a fine sheen. The calluses on her fingertips had all but disappeared, because she couldn’t bear to hear the resonant tones that reminded her of the music she and Jase had made together.
“You going back to it now? Music, I mean?”
And think about the way she once shared a mic with Jase, creating perfect harmony?
“Absolutely not.”
“I get it. Too much temptation.”
Lillie had earned her keep at Pete’s, serving liquor of every description, and managed to stay away from it. And yet she said, “Something like that.”