A Promise Of Home (A Lake Howling Novel Book 1) (28 page)

She thought about the argument she and Jake had. They’d struck at each other in their most vulnerable places, the places that because of their growing closeness were bound to eventually be exposed. They’d both been hiding with no wish to come out and because of this they had hurt each other. Maybe they were best apart? Her heart ached at the thought of not seeing him again or feeling his body close to hers.

“Damn, I love him” The realization had her pulling off the road while she recovered from the shock. How the hell had that happened?

Shaking her head, she restarted the car and slowly drove into town. She could hide her feelings, he need never know, or maybe she would tell him?
What? Are you crazy, O’Donnell
? Love made you vulnerable; she knew that, so why the hell would she contemplate exposing herself to that again?

Because he’d made her feel again, made her remember what it was like to be part of someone and not just a cold emotional shell that went through the routine of day to day life, convincing herself she was happy.

Branna found a parking spot on the main street and for once the quaint beauty of the town didn’t make her smile. Climbing out of the car, she walked slowly down the street, nodding and acknowledging people as thoughts tumbled around inside her head. Could she put herself back together if Jake was no longer in her life? How would she cope if another person she loved turned away from her?

When was he coming back?

Pushing open the door to the drugstore, she went inside.

“Hey, Branna, we got some more of that lotion you like in for you.”

“Oh, hi, Mr. Pike, and thanks, I’m just about out.” Picking up a few things, she paid for them and the lotion before leaving.

The thing was, Branna was starting to feel like she belonged here. The big cities she lived in were not good for a person who kept to herself, but like her hometown in Ireland, Howling embraced people.

“I’m finished with my cookies, Branna.”

“I’ll get to it, Jilly,” Branna said, as she made her way into the grocery store. “Or you could try and bake some for yourself.”

“I can’t cook.”

This was what happened in small towns, you got involved or you didn’t, which sounded simple, but if you didn’t you were a hermit who everyone talked about.

“Why can’t you cook?” Picking up some bread, Branna put it in her basket before looking at the girl. Today, her hair was spiked blood red.

“Mom’s just not big on baking.”

“You want me to teach you?” Branna said, before she could stop herself. She had a book to finish by deadline and then revisions, plus several other things that needed her attention and let’s not mention the fact that she was meant to be the reclusive type.

Jake had done this to her, he’d made her
open
up like a bloody flower and now she was having a hell of time closing.

You better come back soon, McBride.

She headed to The Hoot after making arrangements with Jilly for her first cooking lesson. She’s wasn’t feeling social, but then Buster wasn’t big on talk either, so she’d just slip out back, and sit and watch the scenery, eat her muffin, then go home and think some more.

“You bring that face in here and you’ll scare away my customers, O’Donnell.”

Branna forced her lips upwards. “Sorry, just thinking, Buster. How you doing?”

“I’m good. You want a muffin and coffee?”

“Thanks, I’ll just go sit out back if that’s okay?”

Buster’s lips tilted, which Branna knew was a smile. “You a paying customer or planning on doing a runner?”

“Paying.”

“Well, you get to sit then.”

She found a table that looked out the big window and Branna refused to acknowledge that maybe she would see Ethan’s helicopter come back into town if she sat here long enough. She was halfway through her muffin, which she was sure had pineapple in it, but Buster refused to confirm or deny that ingredient, when she heard his voice. The deep Irish rumble.

She’d gone to sleep many nights lying on her father’s chest while he’d read her stories and sat at his feet as he sang her songs. It was a voice she still heard in her head, no matter how much she’d tried to remove it.

Looking out the window, Branna willed him away before he saw her. He was talking with Buster, asking about the pies and complimenting the cook. Her father had always been good with people; he could subdue the angry and make anyone smile…it had been his gift. The gift of trust. It was instinctive. He’d charmed her teachers and made every man feel as if they were friends, but like her, all that had changed with the death of his wife.

She looked at the hills in the distance, counted the rises and dips and knew he was coming towards her even before she heard the sound of his steps.

“Branna, will you let me talk to you?”

“We have nothing to say to each other.” She kept her eyes on the window.

“I think we do, daughter.”

He’d brought her up to respect her elders and even though she had no wish to look at him, manners dictated to her from birth said she must, so she turned, keeping all expression from her face.

“If we talk, then will you leave Howling?”

“If that’s your wish.”

He stood a few feet from her, dressed in worn jeans and a shirt that had a missing button. He’d always had no idea of the appeal he had to women and she and her mother had often laughed at the surprise on his face when they’d pointed out a woman looking at him.

But why would I care when the only women I want to look at me are my own.

He was only eighteen years her senior and had aged well, despite the grief he had suffered. His black hair was peppered with more grey now and in need of a cut and she saw a few lines on his face that had not been there when last they had met, but his green eyes were still clear and bright. He was tall, about Jake’s height and his body lean. Branna knew he did nothing to keep it that way, but like her, did not put on weight easily.

“I will talk with you, but have no wish for anyone to overhear us. I have to live in this town; you don’t.” Branna was pleased her voice sounded calm.

“Then I will speak quietly and if anyone comes in, I shall discuss the weather.”

She didn’t smile as he teased her, instead nodding as he took the seat across from her. She felt his eyes on her as she looked down at her muffin. If she ate anymore, the beautiful flavors would now blend together in her mouth and taste like dust.

“Firstly, I want to start with an apology, though God alone knows why you would forgive me. Were I in your stead, I certainly would not.” His accent, like hers, was thicker when he was emotional.

“I turned from you, my only child, at a time when you most needed me. My grief was so consuming I could see nothing beyond it.”

Branna relaxed the fist she’d formed around the muffin and put her hands in her lap. She didn’t want to relive those days again, dredge up the pain and misery, but she said nothing. Head lowered, she would let him talk, then she’d get up and walk away and never have to see him again.

“I have no excuse for shutting myself away from you, Branna, only that I did not know how to go on without your mother. It was as if the light had suddenly gone from my life and I lived only in darkness.”

I should have been your light too.

“I went through the motions of making your lunch and cooking and clothing you, but I could do nothing else. The psychiatrist the school made me see said I was suffering from clinical depression and that a change would be the best thing for us. I spoke to your teachers before deciding to come here, and they said you were a quiet but studious girl, who seemed to be coping quite well with the loss of your mother.”

She’d become very good at hiding.

“So, we came here and I watched as you apparently settled into your new school. You didn’t ask me for anything besides the necessities and you did your homework and made no demands on me, and I thought that meant you were doing okay, which left me time to grieve and wallow in my pain. I gave you no time until the day I found a flyer you’d left in your room. It said you were part of a band that was singing at lunchtime that day, so I went along to watch and it was that day I realized I’d lost you, because the child who had once told me everything had kept this from me.”

Please stop.

Branna wanted to put her hands over her ears to shut out his voice. She couldn’t breathe; his words were thrusting her back into that place filled with pain.

“I brought more coffee.” The hand Buster put on her shoulder, was large and warm and she felt the support that came with it. Sucking in a breath, she slowly exhaled.

“Thanks, Buster.”

“You let me know if you need anything else.”

“We will,” she said, giving him a quick look before lowering her eyes to the table once more.

“You have friends here.”

“Yes.”

Declan O’Donnell sighed at her tone before he resumed his story.

“That day, as I stood at the back of that auditorium and watched you sing, I knew what I had become and how I had let you down. I went home and began to make changes. I took you out for dinner that night and other than please and thank you, you said nothing to me, no matter how many questions I asked you.”

Because I knew you blamed me for killing her.

“I continued to try, but you seemed to grow more distant and then after your graduation you came home and told me you were leaving for WSU. Showed me the paperwork and that you had organized a place to stay. You calmly told me how you’d forged my signature and that the only thing you would need from me was some money to get there, as you had been given a scholarship and would get a job.”

“I tried to talk to you, tell you I’d take you there, but you said in that cold calm way you had adopted that you needed nothing further from me. I stood and watched the bus take you away from me, my sixteen year old daughter who was a mere child and felt my heart break all over again.”

“No!” Branna jumped to her feet and looked down at her father. “Don’t speak to me of love, not now, not when I don’t need or want it anymore.”

“Branna—”

“No,” she sliced a hand through the air. “You had your say, now I get mine.”

“Sit then.”

“I don’t want to sit. I want to talk and then I want to leave.” She sucked in another breath. “You blamed me for her death and turned your back on me when I had no one else to turn to. I was broken inside; I hurt so bad that just breathing seemed to take too much effort. I heard your words that day, heard you say there was nothing left for you now that she was gone.”

“No, Branna, I never meant them that way.” His green eyes were filled with anguish, but she didn’t care; she wanted to hurt him like he had her.

“You couldn’t even stand to look at me. I was a constant reminder of her death. So, I tried to be as quiet as I could, tried to keep out of your sight and then we moved here to Howling.”

He was pale now; all color had left his face.

“The other students had friends…a small community like this, everyone had grown up together, and there I was, an outsider who talked funny. So, one day I woke up and went through the house and found every pill I could, then I hid them in my room.” Branna fought the tears; she wouldn’t cry yet, not with him watching.

“No, Branna—”

He rose too, and reached a hand towards her, but she stepped back and it fell to his side.

“I went to school for the last time that day, deciding that I’d take them that night and then the pain would be gone, then you’d be rid of me…the constant reminder of what you had lost.”

“Dear God, don’t say it, Branna.”

“And when I was huddled in that bathroom stall at lunchtime, like I had done every day since I started school there, waiting for it to be over so I could go home and find some peace, I heard a voice outside telling me to come out and that was when I met Annabelle Smith. She’s the only person who has ever really been there for me since the death of my m-mother and it is because of her, only her, that I stand here before you today.”

“You wouldn’t have, I can’t believe you would—”

“You know nothing about me,” her hand slashed the air again. “Nor of what I was capable of. After all, I had always believed you’d be there if I needed you, and that all changed, didn’t it?”

She walked away from him then and never looked back. It was done, over, he would leave Howling now and she would once again attempt to pick up the pieces of her life.

“Branna, you want me to take you somewhere?” Buster appeared beside her as she reached the door, his face lined with worry.

“Thanks, but I just need a bit of time alone for now, Buster.” Branna wasn’t sure how she formed the words, when inside she was coming apart.

“I’m worried about you.” The words came out so fast it took her a few seconds to unravel them.

“I’ll be okay, Buster, really,” she added, before pushing open the door and walking out of The Hoot.

Once she was clear of the window, she ran to her van. Fumbling for the keys, she got them in the ignition, backing out, she then pushed her foot down on the gas pedal and shot out of town.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Jake was exhausted. Ethan had arranged an appointment to see the psychiatrist for that day, so he’d flown into Brook and gone straight to see the man. He’d had more emotions wrung out of him in that sixty minute time slot than he’d experienced in years. Not quite years, Jake amended, thinking of the emotions Branna made him feel.

“How you doing, bud?”

Ethan folded himself into the chair opposite him. Picking up the beer Jake had brought him, he then took a long pull on it.

“I feel like someone’s punching bag without the physical pain.”

Ethan had lived in Brook for two years; it was the closest main town to Howling, two hours forty minutes by car, and twenty minutes by chopper. It had bars and cafes, shops, banks, businesses, and plenty of people.

Around them were the usual sounds of a night just starting, greetings, the clink of glasses, stories being recounted.

“It was always going to be tough, Jake. Besides me, no one else knows what you went through, and even I don’t know everything.” Ethan leaned back on the legs of his chair and let his eyes scan the room. Jake knew he was looking for women, because once he’d been the same way.