A Promise Of Home (A Lake Howling Novel Book 1) (17 page)

“Mrs. Huxley, I wondered if it was possible to see Miss Todd.”

“You know Ellen, Branna?” She could see the question in the woman’s eyes, and wondered how much to say.

“No, but I know one of her students and I thought I could help him out a bit with his homework.”

“Well, now, that’s nice of you, dear, and I’m sure Ellen would appreciate it. You just stay there, and I’ll see if she’s still here.”

Branna wandered about, looking at photos of children who had yet to grow into their bodies. Knobby knees, missing teeth…they were all represented here.

“Come this way, Branna; Ellen’s in her classroom.”

She followed the straight back of Mrs. Huxley, then entered the room she indicated. A woman, who Branna guessed was a few years older than her, was seated at a desk. Straight blonde hair hung to her shoulders and she wore a pretty floral dress and sandals.

“Ellen, this is Branna O’Donnell,” Mrs. Huxley said before leaving the room.

They shook hands and Branna took the seat across from Miss Todd’s. The room was small, and filled with books and shelves; a whiteboard was covered in scribbles, which she was sure made sense to someone.

“How can I help you, Miss O’Donnell?”

“I wanted to talk with you about Michael Tucker, Miss Todd.”

“Oh, dear, what trouble is he in now?” The woman sighed as she put down her pen and then rubbed the bridge of her nose. Branna empathized; she remembered how that felt, the endless paperwork, continual parent phone calls, rude students, and thankless days. Of course, like a lot of teachers, she’d loved every minute, but she loved her writing more.

“No trouble, in fact I wondered if you realized just how intelligent Michael Tucker is, Miss Todd?”

The tawny colored eyes of Miss Todd suddenly chilled. “He is a bright boy, Miss O’Donnell; however, no brighter than any of my other students, and indeed a lot more trouble.”

Branna opened her handbag silently and found the papers she’d put in there, laying them on the desk facing the teacher; she then spoke.

“I met Michael Tucker a few days after returning to Howling. He came to see me because the woman who had bequeathed me her house upon her death was a friend, who supported and comforted Michael, which to me would suggest he was not receiving that in his own home,” Branna said slowly.

“I have no reason to believe that. In fact, his mother is a very nice woman, and calls to see me when she can. Michael tends to lie when provoked, Miss O’Donnell.” Miss Todd’s hackles were now well and truly up.

“These,” Branna said, holding onto her temper, because much as she’d like to let it loose, she would achieve nothing by doing so. “Are the after school work I have been doing with Michael. Mr. Hope tested the boy and found his IQ to be one hundred twenty-eight, which I’m sure is stated in his records, if you have taken the time to read them.” Branna held the other woman’s rapidly widening gaze. “I think they prove just what Michael Tucker is capable of, don’t you?”

There was silence while the teacher studied Michael’s work. There were mathematical workings and written work.

“H-he did these?”

“Yes.”

“Well, they certainly show he’s capable of doing a great deal more than the tasks he’s currently being given, if indeed he did these, but they do not show me his IQ is quite what you state,” Miss Todd said.

“Perhaps you should read his file then?” Branna snapped, rising to her feet. “And for the record, I would never lie about something as important as this. Especially as I was once in his shoes and have the same IQ. Believe me when I say it is a lonely and unenviable position for a ten year old boy to be in when your sole focus is on fitting in with your peers.”

“I’m not sure what you are accusing me of, Miss O’Donnell?”

Branna braced both hands on the desk. “Look, Miss Todd, I’m not accusing you of anything, nor am I judging. I was a teacher also, and understand the pressures you face every day. A child who doesn’t fit into the model you have written presents more work—”

“Which I have no problem with, as my students’ welfare is important to me,” the teacher said defensively.

“Excellent, then can I suggest you read his file thoroughly before you make any further judgments about his behavior?” She didn’t stay to hear any further replies from the teacher; instead, she pushed off the desk and left the room. Waving at Mrs. Huxley, she then climbed into her van and drove out of the school gates. Lowering the window, Branna inhaled a deep calming breath.

For now, she’d done all she could, but she’d be back if she thought it was needed. Mikey would not suffer because he had smarts; she’d see to that.

Driving into town, Branna pulled up in front of the drugstore; minutes later, she was looking on the shelves for her favorite brand of moisturizer. When the door opened, she didn’t look up, too busy reading labels, which was a bad pastime she had, but one that she had all the same. It always surprised Branna what actually went into things, and she usually tried to purchase things with ingredients that she at least recognized.

“You still suffering with that stomach upset, Macy?”

Branna wasn’t visible to the people at the counter, which was a relief; she had no wish to get into it with Macy Reynolds again.

“I’ll have this made up for you in a few minutes, Macy.”

“Thanks, Mr. Pike.”

Holding her breath, Branna eased along the shelf so she was tucked in the corner out of sight. Macy came into her view as she walked behind a set of shelves further down the aisle. She didn’t look Branna’s way, instead lowering her head into her hands as her shoulders started to shake. She then bent double, almost as if whatever hurt inside her was making it impossible to stay upright.

Branna was so shocked she couldn’t stop staring. The woman was crying silently into her hands. What the hell should she do now? If she moved, it would alert Macy, but then maybe Branna should ask if she could help? The hand Macy moved from her face as she straightened shook as it reached out to grab the side of the shelf, her fingers clenching so hard the knuckles were white.

“Nearly ready, Macy!”

“Thanks, Mr. Pike, be right there.”

Branna watched Macy shake her hands a few times, and then haul in a deep breath, and then she was gone.

What the hell was that about?
Branna didn’t want to feel sorry for Macy Reynolds-Delray, but right at that moment, the woman she had seen commanded her to do so. Whatever was behind Macy’s pain, it was the kind of hurt that you felt through your entire body. When the door signaled she had left, Branna grabbed her selections, paid for them, and also made her way outside.

“Good, I was just going to call you, but now that you’re here, we can just go straight to the Howler.”

Belle was coming towards her, long legs eating the distance in seconds. Her friend was dressed in fitted jeans, high-heeled pink stilettos and a white shirt, under which she wore a pink silk camisole, the exact color of her heels. Her hair was pulled back on the sides and she looked beautiful and sexy.

“Wow, you look hot!”

“I was just going to say those exact words to you, Bran.”

They both laughed.

“Come on, let’s get a drink.”

Why not
, Branna thought. “Add food to that drink and I’ll agree.”

“Done.”

***

The Howler was fundamentally the same establishment it had been when Jake had first stepped foot inside it ten years ago. The Harris family had owned it forever and it was now run by the twins, Faith and Noah, who were a year older than him.

It was an extension of the nature outside its door, the colors neutral, with a large open fireplace that during the winter months roared, wood paneling and a circular bar that was wrapped in beige stone. Soft lighting invited you in and the music and company made you stay. On one side was the bar and dance floor, the other a restaurant.

The walls were a shrine to the Packers, a team the Harris family had supported forever, along with the rest of Howling.

Walking towards the bar, Jake did a sweep of the room and found Branna and Annabelle seated at a table with Buster, Newman, and one other guy he didn’t know.

“That woman makes me itch,” Ethan said.

Dragging his eyes from Branna, who was smiling at something Newman was saying, Jake looked at him. “Branna?”

“Annabelle Smith,” he glared across the room.

“Don’t tell me there’s a woman who can resist your charms, stud?”

“She has an attitude that drives me crazy.”

Jake made himself turn and walk to the bar. The foreign emotion called jealousy was chorusing through his body and all Branna was doing was smiling at his friend.

“She also happens to be an outstanding nurse and loyal friend.”

Tex lounged on the bar beside him while they waited to be served.

“She’s hot.”

“Yeah, she is, but more like a sister, so it just feels plain wrong to call her hot, so instead I’ll say pretty,” Jake said, thinking about the brief look he’d gotten of Branna. She’d appeared happy, which should make him feel good, but instead made him angry that she wasn’t being happy with him. Hell, he was screwed up.

“You better get over there, McBride, that guy with the blond hair is moving in on your girl.”

“She's not my girl.” But if anyone touches her, they're dead.

“Okay, just so I'm clear. You don't care that the man now has his hand on her arm, her bare arm,” Ethan clarified. “And that she's laughing up at him, all flashing teeth and sparkling eyes.”

Jake didn't turn even as his gut clenched.

“That shit only worked on me in college. I'm a big grown up now and Branna can talk and interact with whoever she wishes.”

“Bullshit,” Ethan whispered.

'“Hey, Jake, what you after?”

“Faith,” Jake acknowledged the woman who stood before him. She had the Harris dark skin and hair and fine delicate features. “Two beers, thanks, for me and the idiot.”

“Ethan Gelderman,” Ethan stuck out his hand and gave his patented smile, which Jake was pleased to see Faith ignored and turned back to him, after giving his friend’s hand a good hard pump.

“Your mom and dad were in here earlier, they said Katie's coming home for a few days.”

“Holidays are soon, so she's going to spend them here with us.”

“Be good to see her.” Faith walked away, then Ethan sighed. “What’s your problem now?” Jake asked him.

“The women in this town are way too pretty and they all seem to have attitude.”

“You mean they all seem immune to the patented Ethan Gelderman brand of charm.”

“There's no lying, it's a strange thing, McBride. Like some kind of parallel universe where I'm invisible.”

Jake laughed as he paid Faith for the beers. “Faith, give this man a compliment, will you? He's feeling insecure.”

“You have good teeth.” Faith Harris then walked away, leaving a devastated Texan at his side.

“Teeth! All she could come up with was my teeth are nice. I'm a broken man, McBride, my pride lying in shredded remnants at my feet.”

“Well, step over the mess, buddy, we got beers to drink.”

They walked to where the others had gathered, and Jake seated himself beside Buster, next to him was Branna, then Newman and the man he didn't know, then Annabelle. Ethan took the space beside her.

“Evening all.” Jake smiled around the table, not letting his eyes rest on Branna for any longer than the others.

“This is Oliver Rendell; he's visiting from England,” Newman made the introductions. “Jake McBride and Ethan Gelderman the 5th.”

Ethan rolled his eyes as he shook the man's hand. His name was a constant source of amusement to Buster and Newman.

Jake sat back as he took a mouthful of beer, his eyes settling on Branna. She was talking to Annabelle. Her lemon dress had two thin little shoulder straps and a fitted top that sat low on her breasts exposing soft, slender shoulders and a cleavage that he'd had his mouth all over last night. The rest of her wasn't visible, as it was under the table, but what he saw was enough to heat him up. She'd pulled her hair into a messy knot on her head and it exposed the delicate line of her neck and curve of her jaw.

“Are you fortunate enough to live in this town also, Jake?”

Jake’s mother had made him watch Jane Austen movies when she’d had no other sucker to do so and this guy could have stepped right out of one.

“Yes, I was born and raised here.”

“How wonderful and are you a woodsman too?”

“Too?” Jake looked from the Englishman to Buster, who lowered his eyes.

“Buster and Newman told me they are log rollers and I must say it sounds a dangerous occupation, and that to do it well one must have perfect coordination.”

Jake leveled his friends a look. Last time they had told a group of tourists they were fire jumpers. This time he was going to teach them a lesson. Sending a silent apology to log rollers everywhere, he said, “Unfortunately, no, I failed the log rolling course. You see, to be really good at it, you have to stand in ice cold water for long periods of time, and that does things to your…” Jake looked down at his groin briefly before continuing. “Over time, things fail to work as well as they once did and eventually you’re unable to rise to any challenge, Oliver. Loggers have even lost their, ah drive permanently. So, you see, it takes a devoted and dedicated man to give that up.”

Jake shot Branna a look; she was staring into her glass of wine with her top lip clamped firmly between her teeth.

“Well, I must say, you are to be commended for such dedication, gentlemen,” Oliver said politely.

“Yeah, dedicated is what we are,” Buster scowled at Jake.

“I’m real proud of them, Oliver, it has to be said.” Jake lifted his beer to salute his friends. Newman flipped him the bird, seen by everyone but Oliver.

“So, how about a dance to show off those fast moving feet, Newman?” Annabelle got to hers and held out one hand. “After all, you were crowned log rolling champion in these here parts for the last two years; you should be up for the challenge.”

“Aww, shucks,” Newman muttered. “There’s no need to go on about that, Annabelle, you know how it upsets Buster that he came in second.”