by Brea Viragh
Well, the recent attacks might have me considering a change of address.
My mother stopped her budding tirade by grasping my cheek, turning me lightly to face her. I leaned into the touch despite the need to argue bubbling beneath the surface. “Take care of yourself, Essie. I’m worried about you.”
“I know. I’m trying.”
The moment the first cars pulled into the driveway, Amora handed me a cup with ice and mystery liquid, sending me on my way. It was party time. Excitement flushed her face. “Mingle, dear, mingle,” she demanded in her soft Southern twang. “Be gregarious. Like me. And try to eat something before you pass out.”
I straightened my back, cool drink in my hands as I made the rounds. There were distant cousins I hadn’t seen in too long despite them living just on the other side of the county. There were the perfunctory hellos and questions about the kids—not mine, jeez—or work, or fill-in-the-blank. Most of the conversations were enjoyable, although there were the odd aunts and uncles who’d brought their own homemade moonshine and tended to ramble.
Frank rested comfortably in the house, surrounded by the bevy of children Amora fostered. I hated leaving him to their mercy but I had my own horde to deal with. My parents stood side by side on the deck they’d built last spring, a picture of everlasting love. I knew from experience the view they beheld, the slight hill allowing them an uninterrupted panorama of the large lawn and fields where sheep and horses grazed. I shot my father a brief salute before moving amidst the throng, condensation from the cup beading on my fingers.
I closed my eyes against the onslaught of conversation, moving out onto the lawn, and nearly leapt out of my skin at the brisk tap on my shoulder. Spinning around, my drink sloshed on the ground amidst Shari’s laughter.
“Girl, I have enough going on without you giving me a heart attack.” Clutching my chest, I sighed. “Don’t scare me like that.”
“Relax. There’s no need to be on edge with so many people round. I’ll protect you.”
“How do you get away with dressing so provocatively?” I gestured at her halter top, the material clinging to her curves in a way designed to capture attention. “Your party look puts mine to shame.”
She stared at me over the rim of her prescription-less glasses. “If you stopped giving a shit what people thought, you could dress like this too. I mean, woman, please.”
I sipped against my embarrassment. “There is a truly beautiful consistency to your cynicism. Some people are not as comfortable in their skin as you are.”
“Let’s make the rounds.” Shari looped her arm through mine as we strolled. “And where did you get your drink? I have a hankering.”
I was happy Shari didn’t run on Heartwood time, the vague, nebulous concept of arrival depending on a person’s mood, the weather, etc. She made it a point to arrive on time, and early when possible, which complemented my anal-retentive personality.
“Over here, I’ll show you,” I said, clinging to her. My lifeline in a sea of be pleasant and mingle, Essie, like me.
“I was cruising by the dessert table on my way to find you, and I noticed you didn’t make anything. What gives? I was hoping for a cake, or cookies. At least a muffin so I have something to do with my hands.” Shari looked past me and waved when she saw a mutual acquaintance.
We trod a path to the food table and I handed Shari a plate of tiny appetizers, keeping my gaze averted when a noxious burp strained to get free.
“Sorry, I wasn’t in the mood to bake. Although I did throw together some mini quiches.”
She peered at the miniscule portions, scrutinizing every crispy baked edge. Most of them were blackened and scraped to look presentable. “Now I understand. You didn’t have time to bake because you were practicing your art. Next time, please me with a big honking batch of your cranberry–orange scones. Without the scorch marks.”
“I’ll try to accommodate, because you know I aim to please. I’ve been a little on edge. In accordance with my terrible, horrible day, I managed to screw up the settings on my oven,” I said.
“I know, I can see.” Shari helped herself to a cup of punch. “I’m going to assume this is spiked.”
I took a sip of my own drink, feeling the burn of alcohol on the back of my tongue. Probably shouldn’t be drinking on an empty stomach, but it was Saturday night. “Assume away. And try the canapés. I helped with the filling. Mom wouldn’t let me touch much else beyond the salad once she saw what I did with the quiches.”
“I can tell,” Shari told me after popping the entire confection into her mouth.
My mother was right. I was not the society girl she desired in a daughter, which made me wonder about those poor foster kids she took in; perhaps she was grooming a new generation in her image. Heaven forbid.
“There are other, more pressing matters to attend to. I can’t stand much more.” I hid my disappointment in my beverage.
Shari turned, leaning closer and puckering up for a quick peck on my forehead. “Everything is going to be all right. The police are going to find the bastard who keeps hounding you. Whoever it is, they won’t get away with this kind of behavior.”
“Next you’re going to tell me to keep dreaming, because a dream is a wish your heart makes.” I sang the last few words off-key. “Am I right?”
“Gag, no. I’ll pass.” She used her chin to gesture toward a pair of empty chairs overlooking the yard. “How about we have a sit? I’ve been on my feet all day and these puppies are howling.”
“Maybe if you stop wearing high heels you won’t have this problem.” I took a peek at the shoes she wore and nearly drooled at the strappy sandals.
“And give up being the height of fashion? No, I don’t think so.” She dropped down and sighed, relief evident in every inch of her body. Her shoes clattered against the decking with a muffled thud. “It’s what sets me apart from my peers. No one towers over the masses like I do.”
“I don’t see why you need to be set apart,” I commented. “You’re gorgeous, with two hapless men bobbing in your wake. Rejoice in your sex appeal, my friend. It’s not something everyone is born possessing.”
“Ah, yes, and few wield it with such casual grace.”
I looked away at the arrival of a new car parking down the driveway with the rest of the guests. My father waved as he played parking valet, lining up the vehicles with the skill of a seasoned dominoes player. One freak moment of divine intervention and they would go tumbling down.
“Are you upset?”
“Hmm?” I started at the question, turning my attention back to Shari. “About what?”
“The health inspector. The attacker waiting to cause an accident.” Shari played with a fold in her skirt. “Me texting a certain someone without you knowing. Take your pick.”
This was certainly not the conversation I wanted to have at the moment. I touched the newly healed scratch near my hairline. “I’m too anxious to be upset.”
“You’re going to have to start worrying soon,” Shari retorted. “Because trouble is here.”
I screamed when a hand came down on my shoulder. Warning or no warning, my explosion took Shari by surprise and those black-rimmed eyes widened when I lunged to my feet, swinging around with hands balled into fists.
I slapped uselessly against Isaac’s chest and his muscles tightened at the contact.
“What are you trying to do, sugar?” he asked. “Hurt me?”
My face soured. “You want to send me into an early grave.”
Isaac spread his arms wide, the comment sweeping over and around him. “I apologize. I wanted to come over and say hello.”
“I can do without your hellos. I know what happens.” I hid my face in the cup, startled when I inhaled a bit of moisture, my nose burning.
A large hand slapped across my back as Isaac beat the coughing fit out of me. “You mean the kiss?”
The moment I regained full control of my lungs, I slapped a hand across his mouth. “Shut up! Do
you want the neighbors to hear you?”
I felt his smile beneath my hand. God, he smelled good. Musk and earth and a hint of cedar. No, absolutely not, snap out of it.
“I don’t recall Amora inviting you,” I said with a forced grin to cover my embarrassment. “Isn’t there somewhere else you need to be? A rave or a bar requiring your attention? A bag of weed calling your name?”
His laugh slithered over me with all the silky smoothness of crushed velvet. “Have I ever told you how much I admire your sense of humor?”
After a small hesitation, I turned back to him, though I pointedly avoided his eyes. One look into those and I would remember the touch of his lips, the skim of his fingers, the—
“Moving on,” I said quickly. The desire was there, strong and real, and as surprising as a kick to the gut. Still, I strove to meet his big-headed grin with one of equal intensity. Just not his eyes.
Somewhere along the line, Shari had disappeared. Deserter. Leaving when I needed the distraction. Retaliation would be mine, if I could ever screw my head on right.
“Are you going to help rip the barn to the ground?” Isaac moved to stand next to me and gestured with his chin. “I’d like to see you put those muscles into play. See a layer of sweat dotting your forehead.”
I tugged the low-cut neckline of my dress. “You need to stop. And yes, I’ll be helping to tear the barn down. There’s no sense in watching everyone else do it.”
“Poor, sweet Essie.”
His condescending tone had my head turning. “What?”
“You’re adorable. I make you more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I love the way you shift away when I try to step closer.”
He did, then, and I hated myself when I reacted the way he said. “I’m not nervous. I’m cautious. There’s a difference,” I countered. “Besides, people are watching us.”
Isaac shifted to lean against the wooden support pole of the deck railing. “I’m harmless.”
“Absolutely not,” I answered without hesitation. “I refuse to fall back in your arms. It was a mistake and it won’t be happening again.”
“I remember how you were the other day, on my porch.” Isaac twisted to take me in, his gaze dropping to mine. “Those exotic eyes, perky little nose, voluptuous body heated by the sun. Those soft, round hips.”
His words had the desired effect. Heat pooled at his description of me, a quiver beginning beneath my heart and moving lower. “Sounds like a personal problem.” I schooled my face into a disinterested look to hide any signs of my arousal.
“It’s about to be very personal. Intimate, you may say.” He searched my face for an answer, mouth quirked up in a half smile.
“You are one cocky son of a bitch, Isaac Howard.”
“You like me that way.”
“I like you gone.” I grinned over the rim of my cup as a familiar face came to the rescue. “Ah, Trent.”
“Essie.” A shadow fell over me as I glanced up into the face of my old flame. “Nice shindig you got going here.”
I leaned closer for the perfunctory kiss on the cheek and tried not to feel delighted when I caught Isaac’s face in my peripheral vision. Darkened and hopping mad. “Thank you. It was my mother’s idea. It’s good to see you.”
Trent Zacklin leaned against the deck railing with one leg crooked for balance. He wore a thin jacket over a black t-shirt, the sunlight catching golden strands in his chestnut hair and the subtle shadow across this chin. As the town heartthrob, he boasted the necessary handsome masculine face, deep gray eyes, and butt-cleft chin designed to melt hearts on contact.
Once upon a time, I’d found him attractive. To the point where I gave him the one thing no one else had had before. Me.
“Is Amora here?” Trent scanned the deck. “I haven’t seen her.”
“Of course. She’s off schmoozing. You know how she gets.” I gestured toward Isaac with my thumb. “In the effort of being polite, you remember—”
Trent interrupted, holding out a hand. “Isaac. How you doing, man? I haven’t seen you in years.”
When Isaac spoke, his tone held enough acid to melt steel. “Three years, to be exact.” He grasped the other man’s hand and squeezed. Hard. “I was out of town. You hanging in there?”
“Well enough.” Trent exerted his own pressure until both yanked their arms away in tandem. A subtle truce each one tried to choke down. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well. Digging the tan lines, by the way.”
I took them in, one man dark and imposing, the other tall and fair, interesting to look at in their own ways. Trent was the same as the last time I saw him, prominent brows and a slight paunchiness to his utterly male physique. I wondered again how we managed to stay together for a whole six months. Isaac...well, I still couldn’t look him in the face.
I had never thought to ask where Brad got the drugs, figuring the less I knew, the better. Trent assured me he was as innocent as I was, placing the blame squarely on his friend’s shoulders and smiling all the while. He’d gotten off on a technicality, helped along no doubt by the fact that his daddy had been mayor once upon a time. Instead of serving time in prison, Trent—and Brad too, if I wasn’t mistaken—dutifully obliged the court with community service, and won over the hearts of the county. Trent was, after all, on his way to college with a full football scholarship. Wouldn’t want to ruin his future with a mark on his permanent record.
Isaac shook his head. “I was wondering when you’d have the guts to show your face in front of me.”
“Some of us have lives to live, Isaac,” Trent put in jovially. “But you wouldn’t know a thing about lives, seeing as you like to live behind a nice protective wall.”
“I bet you would have liked the view.”
“Gentlemen,” I cut in, setting a hand on Trent’s arm. “They’re about to start the festivities. We should head over.”
Trent’s arrival was not quite the interruption I’d hoped for, although the barn demolishing still held possibilities. Instead of backing away to mingle, Trent stepped forward and placed a hand on my arm. “How about I walk you down and we can work together? Work always goes faster with two people. Are you going to be able to swing a hammer in that dress?”
At the same moment, Isaac reached out to take hold of my other bicep. “I believe the lady and I were talking. How about you find your own buddy to harass, eh?”
A mixture of concern and curiosity rose up as I cleared my throat. “Well, this has been fun.”
Under different circumstances, I would have jumped to be the filling in this hunk of man sandwich. Unfortunately, given the two men in question, I was more awkward than not and in dire need of an escape plan. I took a second to scan the deck for signs of help, though I didn’t see Shari.
Either way I would have to make a choice, and without time to consider the consequences of choosing, I pushed both away. “I think I’ll walk and work alone, guys. Independence for all women.” I held a fist to shoulder height and began to follow the others to the dilapidated old barn before flashing a smile over my shoulder. “We’ll talk later.”
Trent and Isaac shared a look as though they could not quite figure out which one I spoke to. With a casual wave, I left them both standing there.
HAMMER IN HAND, I PREPARED to get to work. My mother had her cohorts, friends, and family situated around the structure in desperate need of a bulldozer over a decade ago. She and my father had left the old barn to rack and ruin instead of choosing one path or the other, fix or finish, adoring the way it added texture to the landscape. A slice of down-home country, they called it. I’d always said it was an accident waiting to happen if one of the kids should run inside and the beams fail. It was one good strong gust of wind away from being tinder.
I reached back for a swing only to have a cleared throat from behind halt my progress. “You shouldn’t have left me there. You know how I feel about him. How I’ve always felt.”
That voice. That deep
, rough around the edges voice. Quickly becoming burned inside my head. With a mix of guilt and scorn, I turned to shake my head at Isaac. “You need to learn to make nice with everyone. What happened was a long time ago.”
As he drew a deep breath, those hazel eyes met mine. “Not for me.”
The sincerity of his statement had me stopping to look at him. “I’m sorry.”
“You always are.”
Something shifted inside and I understood then, how the pain of the long-ago evening still affected Isaac in every aspect of his life. For me, and for Trent, the years went by and we’d moved ahead, finding our paths in the world. Isaac was just beginning.
“Do you...want to talk about it?” The two of us stood alone beside the attached cow shed while the others heave-ho’ed by the main doors.
“It’s nothing you’d want to hear,” Isaac insisted bitterly. “And wouldn’t it ruin your festive mood?”
I spared a kick at the rotting lumber. “Yeah, because this is totally festive.”
“I’m surprised a girl like you knows what to do with a hammer.” He used his chin to gesture. Effectively switching the subject before we went any deeper.
Rolling with the change, I cocked a hip, hammer extended. “A girl like me?”
“You know, prim and proper and prettified.”
“Prettified isn’t a real word,” I said, smiling warmly.
“Sure it is. Look it up. And it describes you perfectly.”
“You’re saying you think I’m pretty. I get it.”
The answering grin lighting his face floored me. It transformed the whole structure of his being, taking him from rabble-rouser to charmer. I didn’t know a smile could do so much. Its genuineness revealed a different aspect of his personality, along with two adorable dimples, one in each cheek. It had me wondering what I could do to get them to stay. I’d never bring up Trent again if it meant seeing those dimples.