Her face reddened and skin heated at the idea of his hand on her bare ass, but she wasn’t about to let him know she would love nothing more. Instead, she played the game back like any good little spoiled girl named Pearla would. “Do they have anything vegan?”
IT HAD BEEN more than twenty-four hours on the road, driving straight through the night and day. Lydia didn’t know how Declan did it or why he did it. He had to be exhausted at this point.
Unclear where they were, Lydia assumed they were somewhere in the south, gauging by the sun’s position. With little to no conversation and nothing to occupy her time, she had studied the scenery, shadows, and direction the wind blew at any given moment. Her life had been reduced to something between a weathervane and human compass.
She lost track of how many miles they had traveled and the green freeway signs announced them passing through towns she had never heard of, population usually next to nothing. They were careful to stay off major roads and out of big cities, just passing through most towns, only stopping when they absolutely had to.
Something had changed between her and Dec. Guilt led her to believe it was her fault, that she made him so angry that he just couldn’t see past it. He had been quiet before but never cruel. It was like he wanted her to be as angry as he was. How did she have such an effect on him? Why was she so intolerable now?
Better question – why did she care so much? He was her husband’s hired muscle not all that long ago, her bodyguard, nothing more. She shouldn’t care what he thought of her, but she did.
The car slowed, bringing her out of her deep thoughts and to the all-night drive thru restaurant in front of them that was serving breakfast day and night. That was great since she didn’t know if it was closer to the dinner hour or breakfast. It was just late, and dark, and she was ready to get out of the car and never get in one again. If she never saw another drive-thru menu for the rest of her life, that would be a bonus.
“Where are we?” she asked.
His reply was simple, vague, and cold. “Almost home.”
The voice that carried over the speaker at the menu board answered the question more directly when an unmistakably southern twang asked them what they’d be enjoying. She’d called it – they were in the south.
A large bridge shaped sign with a giant crawfish plastered down the center, reading Welcome to Moss Bridge, Mississippi, greeted them a handful of miles away when they got back on the road they had come in on. It took a while to see any sign of a town, but when it appeared, it was oddly similar to the last one they had called home. Small, quaint, charming. It was late, dark, and the streets were sparsely lit, but there seemed to be a central theme looming on most of the signs and buildings – crawfish.
“Moss Bridge, Mississippi, huh? I’ve never been to Mississippi,” she offered, trying to break the silence.
Eyes glued to the road, he grunted and said, “Gulf Coast, dead center between Alabama and Louisiana. Easy to disappear in a hurry if need be.”
He had no intention of pouring salt on an already weeping wound with the last comment about needing to disappear in a hurry, but he could tell it stung. Probably for the better.
“Is that like a warning or a reminder, Dec?” she asked in a huff.
“Is what a reminder?” He thought it better to play thick and let it go. He wasn’t trying to toss daggers or start a fight.
“Never mind.” She crossed her arms and turned her focus to the darkness outside her window. “I’ve never been to Louisiana either, but I’ve always wanted to go to New Orleans.”
Unsure how to reply without somehow leaving his words subject to more of his mood, he stuck to facts. “It’s just a stone’s throw away.”
“Hmmmm.” Her thoughts and wonder were unintentionally out loud and caught his attention.
Seeing an opportunity to lighten the mood, he poked a little fun, hoping it translated as intended, “Hmmm? Don’t go getting any ideas about New Orleans. It’s a little too far for a run and their bars make you flash for drinks and beads.”
There was a certain sarcasm and hint of silliness in his words that brought a sense of calm. She watched him and smiled at the glimpse he gave her of who he had been only days before – relaxed, a little more carefree, and not so rigid – it was like a weight had begun to lift. She hoped that meant they were close to their final destination and all the running had been the pinch between them. More than that, though, she hoped that this Declan was sticking around.
At the other end of town, just like before, the buildings were replaced with homes that became more and more sparse the farther they went. There was a glow to her right, in the far distance, that appeared to be water reflecting the moonlight. The ocean. That feeling of heavy angst lightened just a little more when they pulled onto a small, seemingly private road in the direction of the water.
The road was lined with a few trees and tall grass all the way to the only house on the road. It was small, sat on stilts well above the ground, and had a deck that wrapped completely around it. In the dark of night, it was hard to see the color, but it was light and welcoming. There was another small ground level building to the right, perhaps a large shed or small garage, and carport-like parking right under the house itself.
Tall grasses and a sandy bluff in the distance made it hard to see their surroundings, but once they climbed the steps to the deck, in the warm damp night air, it all came into view and took Lydia’s breath away. The ocean was in plain sight, within walking distance from where they stood, just to the south. What she hadn’t noticed, until now, was the source of all of the short little bridges they had driven over on the main road. There were little waterways, streaming inland from the ocean, in between the houses, leading to who knew where. Their little house was no exception.
On the left side, there was a small dock that floated on one of those very channels. What was better was the small boat tethered to the dock and a couple of kayaks hanging on the side of a small shack on the land side of the dock. She already liked this place.
Following Declan inside, she was pleased to see the interior didn’t disappoint. Large windows on the south and east side of the home boasted amazing water views in what appeared to be the main living area. A nautical-like theme was carried throughout with more of those crawfish that she noticed in town. It was warm, light, and cozy. A place she could really relax and get to know who she was meant to be.
“This is a nice place,” she said, looking around, taking it all in.
“In the daylight, you can see the ocean on the horizon.”
“Oh, I already see it. It’s amazing.” She stood at the large window, staring off to the ocean.
With just the sight of her mesmerized stare, he knew what she was thinking. She would like to paint the very scene she was taking in. He felt a hint of guilt. “Yeah, I guess you can, with the full moon and clear sky.”
“Is this your place, or do I already know the answer to that one?’ she joked.
A short reply in a monotone voice was all that he offered her, leaving the rest to mystery. “No.”
Nodding, acknowledging his answer, she continued to roam around before his answer sunk in, stopping her in her tracks. “Oh, my God! We aren’t squatting, are we? Is this illegal? Did you use all of your GI Joe maneuvers to break in? I can’t go to jail.”
A look of annoyance or smug amusement made up his expression, and on Declan, it was hard to tell the difference. “No. We have permission to be here.”
“Then whose house is it?”
“The less you know…”
“Right. The less I know, the better…or is it safer? Oh, who cares!” It had been a little premature to think they were making progress and getting whatever their relationship was back on track. He was still playing the old games.
Storming off toward the hallway, where the bedrooms had to be, she stopped briefly and asked, “Which room is mine?”
“Whichever one you want,” he fired back in a growl.
Eyebrows raised, she adopted that smug look thing he had been doing and worked it. “Which is…bigger?”
“The one at the end of the hall. Why?” he questioned, trying to figure out where her tantrum was going.
Declan walked to where the hallway began just in time to watch Lydia slam the bedroom door, at the end of the hall, so hard the walls shook. “Oh…that’s why.”
She heard him through the door and added an extra hmmph to her fit when she fell back on the bed. The hot and cold that was Declan was raking her last nerve. Of course, she made a big mistake in Rapid Falls, and she regretted it. At some point, though, they needed to move on and find common ground, or at least, find a way to be civil. It really shouldn’t have bothered her what he thought; he was just the bodyguard. But it did.
By day, the Mossy Bridge house was even more delightful. Sunlight streamed in through the walls of windows, giving a light airy feel. Outside, the sounds of nature and warm sea air cloaked her with a sense of warm southern sea comfort. Whatever that meant. It was just what came to her while she stood at the railing on the sea side deck. Lydia wasn’t a nature kind of girl. She hadn’t been to a place like this before and deeply regretted it. She had been missing out.
Maybe this was the good that was to come from her journey. Discovering new things, challenging her comfort levels, and peeling back layers to discover who she really was. It wasn’t like she was going to go build sandcastles and take up fishing in the channel that ran along the house, but she could certainly get used to the simplicity this place seemed to offer and its glorious beauty. Change took time though – maybe fishing and sandcastles were coming.
When Lydia walked back inside the house after exploring her surroundings as far as the bluff, she noticed something she didn’t notice before. Sitting on the kitchen counter was a smoothie maker along with her plant based protein powder. Declan – but when-and how?
This is where things got really confusing. He acted like a complete ass most of the time; then he did this? As confused as she was by his behavior, she didn’t let it overshadow the excitement she felt. It really had little to do with the stuff and everything to do with the man. Under all of that hum drum beefcake was a sweet and thoughtful man.
Footsteps on the deck alerted her to his presence. She ran through the house, out the front door, and plowed into his hard brick wall body and hugged him. He stood there for a minute, unsure what to do with his dangling arms before he decided to hug her back.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Well, I’d hate to get all this way just to have you die from eating animal bi-products.” He threw his fist in the air, in a completely out of character gesture, and hollered, “Long live the vegans!”
The laughter his foolishness incited led to a snort that earned a chuckle out of him, too. Gesturing to the chairs overlooking the ocean view, she made her way and took a seat as did he. The small table between them had a beer on it; some things just don’t change.
“Beer, huh? What time is it, anyway? I wasn’t gone that long, was I?” she said, referring to her walk around the property. “Don’t worry! By gone I mean walk.”
“I know; I was watching you.” That statement was more revealing than he meant for it to be. “And it’s 5 o’clock somewhere.”
“Touché.” She left the watching comment alone, uninterested in rocking the proverbial boat. “Look, I’m sorry…about last night. I was rude. I know you’re just doing your job, and I’m not making it easy. I’m just…I don’t know. I’ll do better…promise.”
“It’s fine. This isn’t easy; I get it. We just need to work together, not against each other.” He couldn’t help but get caught up in his own words again, taking them somewhere his mind didn’t belong – like working against each other – in bed, against a wall – on that beach.
“Teamwork.” She tossed up a hand for a high-five.
He obliged, albeit reluctantly, and awkwardly slapped her hand with his own. “Something like that. You did hold your own pretty good the other day – that was teamwork I guess.”
“Thank you. Wow, I think you just high-fived me and gave me a compliment.”
He grinned and said, “Don’t take that as an invite to cause trouble – just want you to know – your hard work paid off a bit. You know, until I got there and saved your ass a little bit.”
“Oh, okay. I get it – pretty good for a girl, you mean?” Her voice was laced in sarcasm.
“You said it, not me.” He put his hands out in front of him in surrender. “It’s been a few days – you ready for your next lesson?”
“Now?” Sitting up straight, she was surprised; maybe they were getting better, now that they were settled.
“You have anything else to do?” he asked.
“Touché – again – O’Reilly.”
DAYS BECAME WEEKS, weeks became months and there was still no sign of Esteban. He was M.I.A. – not a single trace. His goons hadn’t found Declan and Lydia. Maybe they chased the burner phones to Maine and gave up when they led to nowhere.
It seemed time really did heal all wounds. Declan was still guarded, when it came to Lydia, but not as much as he had been. Mossy Bridge had become home, and though Lydia missed her son and sister, her living arrangements were tolerable. Declan had surprised her with a video of Jax walking, then one of him starting to talk. It was far from perfect, but they were all safe, for now.
A routine had developed between Lydia and Declan. Morning workouts were still on the agenda, followed by self-defense in the late afternoon. Lydia had even learned to fire a gun, practicing often in the secluded area where they lived. She was a pretty good shot. The two even did all of their shopping together, each week, and enjoyed the many festivities the small town hosted. They genuinely enjoyed each other.
Lydia was getting stronger, physically, and with that strength came a certain confidence that had been missing before. It looked good on her. She was changing, discovering who she was – or at least who she wanted to be – and figuring out what she was made of. When all of this was over, she would be unrecognizable, far more than she ever was before.
Beer was a new dietary staple, and she even ate meat, though she clung to that plant based protein powder in her smoothies still. Old habits die hard. She even got used to the Mississippi bugs, learned to fish, and got dirty once in a while. Though she was embracing her life as Pearla Gray, she still had nights full of tears and a broken heart, but she didn’t live in it, just experienced it and moved on.
Nature serenaded them over dinner while sitting out on the deck. In the south, crab boils and fish fries were as common as a summer barbecue, and they indulged in that southern way of life often. It went well with the beer, too.
“So, tell me something about you that I don’t already know,” she chimed, “and I already know you like to run, drink beer, and grunt a lot.”
“I don’t grunt. I just don’t always like to talk.” That’s where he wasn’t being honest. He did like to talk and wanted to talk to her and tell her everything. He just couldn’t – it wasn’t safe.
“Oh c’mon, O’Reilly. I know you have a niece, at least one brother, and of course parents because…” she waved her hand up and down at him, “well, you’re here and that takes…parents.”
“That was a really weird way to say that, ya know.”
“Ehh, you’re deflecting. Out with it. You know everything about me. You probably know what kind of cake I had at my ninth birthday because of all your top-secret, ninja, borderline stalker resources. In fact, chocolate or vanilla?”
“Vanilla,” he said without hesitation.
Her eyes widened in surprise before she squinted in disbelief. “Lucky guess.”
“I’m actually trained to read people. I can tell when they are lying, too. You did this little thing with your eyebrows when you said vanilla…gave the whole thing away,” he said with an it was too easy shrug.
“Okay.” She put her hands over her eyebrows so she wo
uldn’t give anything away, and asked, “Did I have a unicorn or pony theme?”
With a mocking grin and tone, he fired back confidently, “Both. They’re both a type of horse, and you could never choose one over the other because you…love…horses.”
Giving nothing away, she sat quiet and still before dropping her hands in defeat. In a pitchy timbre, she asked, “How do you do that?”
With a nonchalant shrug and a no big deal attitude, he replied, “It’s a gift. Look, I know you. I know you love horses and like…all the things when you can have them…it made sense.”
“So, you guessed.”
“Basically, but not until after I read you. Like I said, I know you.”
“So, you do,” she said. “Now let me get to know you…dish. Family. Spill it.”
“Well, I have a niece…” With his head down, looking at his plate, he peeked up at her through his dark, thick lashes to see her expression. “…a brother, parents.”
“Ha, sarcasm…shocker. I’m serious. There is more to Declan O’Reilly than that,” she said, “A lot more.”
Against better judgement, he divulged far more than he should. “Okay, okay. I have four brothers, all younger, and a little sister; she’s the youngest.”
“Only girl, with five older brothers? If they are anything like you, ouch! Poor girl!” Her teasing was taken as such, and he laughed at the observation.
“Yeah, Carigan had it rough. We babied her until boys came around. Then we just humiliated her. It all worked out though; she’s sweet as pie, but tough as nails. The way I see it, she’s lucky to have us. She’s a fiery redhead, just like our niece, Reagan. Reagan is the spitting image of Cari…it’s almost scary.”
“Good. Sounds like you boys need some strong-willed girls to keep you in line. So, tell me about your brothers. You said one had married and lost his wife? What about the others? Why aren’t the O’Reilly boys married? Are you that bad?”
“Liam married his high school sweetheart. She was like a sister to the rest of us; we’d all known each other most of our lives. She was diagnosed with cancer when she was pregnant, insisted on having the baby, fighting the cancer after she was born. She beat it too…the first time. She had been in remission for years, and it just…came back.” He looked off as he relived a painful memory. It was apparent that the loss was still very raw. “Anyway, she wasn’t as lucky the second time. Liam hasn’t been the same since, and he struggles with balancing grief and raising Reagan – some days it’s just too much, so we all help where we can.”
Brother's Keeper I: Declan Page 11