Pinky Promises (The Promises #1)

by Ciara Shayee

  “I won’t hurt you, Indie…not ever.”

  Years of pain, desolation, and as-yet, unsaid admissions swirled between brother and sister, their bond strong against the onslaught of emotions that slammed into them like a wrecking ball as Archie’s arm slowly wrapped around Indie’s shoulders. He left it deliberately loose so she could move away if she wanted to. Everyone breathed sighs of relief as she bit hard on her lip and raised her arms to rest them around his neck.

  The pair relaxed into each other, curling together and releasing twelve years of pent-up emotion in tears, sobs, and declarations of love.

  ~ oOo ~

  “Daddy?” Carl-Roman wandered into the room, stopping in front of his dad.

  “Yes, Carl-Roman?”

  Carl-Roman frowned, setting his train down for a moment, to stare at his dad. “Where’s my cousin?”

  Indie gasped from her spot between Archie and Reagan on the sofa, her hand flying up to her mouth.

  Archie sighed, leaning forward. “She’s next door, at Uncle Pete’s house, with Uncle Laker.”

  “Uncle Laker’s here? Can I go see him?”

  It made Archie grin, to see and hear his son’s excitement to see his best friend. He loved how Carl-Roman and Laker had bonded, despite his friend’s often demanding work schedule. “I think he’s going to come over here.”

  Reagan nodded when Archie looked to him in question, then met Indie’s teary eyes. “You ready? I can shoot him a text now if you are. No rush, though, all right?”

  “No,” Indie breathed. “It’s okay. Text him.”

  It had been decided that Laker would take Marley to Peter’s house until the reunions had taken place between Archie and the girls. Nobody wanted to upset her, and they’d known emotions would be running high, so it just made sense for her to be kept out of the way just for a little while. In the twenty minutes since Indie woke after her faint, the group had relocated to the living room where Carl-Roman had delighted in showing Indie and Grace his train sets—including the lilac train emblazoned with Grace, and the pink bearing Indie’s name.

  Come on over, we’re all good. Ray.

  Laker read the text from Reagan with a grin on his face. He’d been nervous, petrified actually, until Reagan had sent him a photo of the Ashby siblings embracing on the small sofa in the kitchen. Sure, there were plenty of tears, but that was expected. It made Laker happier than he knew how to express—to see Archie and Indie back together again.

  “Mommy?” Marley asked in her sweet, almost-American accent, pointing at his phone with a hopeful half-smile.

  Laker chuckled, scooping her up and swinging her around Peter’s living room. “Yeah, Little Sweet, let’s go see Mommy.” It tickled him that she’d picked up a slight American twang like Indie and Grace had. He was often teased when he returned to Italy after his summers in England, having taken on ‘English-isms,’ as his friends called them. Just the way he’d enunciate or say a word differently made them laugh.

  “C’mon, let’s go.” Laker took Marley’s hand, leading her out of Peter’s house, and across the lawn into Reagan’s. He heard voices in the living room and ushered Marley in with a gentle hand at the back of her head. She paused and stepped back into his legs as soon as she saw the unfamiliar faces of her uncle and cousins.

  “It’s okay, baby girl, come here,” Indie beckoned her forward with outstretched arms. Marley was happy enough to go to her. Archie had moved, sitting on the floor on the other side of the coffee table from Indie so Marley would have space. It was blatantly obvious that he desperately wanted to hold her, see her up close, despite his unease with the reality of his baby sister having a baby. And that she was having another baby…

  “This is your Uncle Archie; remember I told you about him? And he has two babies, like I have you.”

  “I’m Carl-Roman, and I’m six. You’re five, aren’t you?” Carl-Roman piped up from his spot on the floor, eager to go closer just like Archie was, but doing as he’d been asked and staying put for now.

  Marley eyed him curiously, and only then did Indie realise something sad.

  “She’s never seen another child before,” she whispered, looking at the shocked faces around the room. All except Grace’s. “She’s never met another child her age.”

  “Doesn’t she go to school?” Carl-Roman asked. “Daddy says I gotta go, or he’ll get put in time out.”

  Archie laughed, ruffling his son’s hair and catching Chase before he toppled sideways. He was getting good at sitting up unaided, but occasionally he lost his balance. “Marley didn’t have to go to school where she was before, but she’s a bit younger than you, Champ.”

  “Huh. All right. D’you wanna play trains, Marley?”

  Indie caressed her daughter’s head as she squirmed, obviously uncomfortable. “Baby girl, do you want to play with the trains with Carl-Roman?”

  Unsure, Marley looked over at the toys, clearly wanting to but too nervous of Archie and Carl-Roman to go alone.

  Laker moved, plonking himself down on the floor beside Carl-Roman and scooping him onto his lap to tickle him. The little boy’s shrieks brought smiles to everyone’s faces, including Marley’s. “All right, Champ, let’s see how these work then, huh?”

  “All right, all right, stop tickling me, Uncle LJ! I can’t breathe, dammit!”

  Nobody chose to reprimand the boy for his ‘dammit,’ letting it go just this once; no one wanted to ruin this moment.

  Thoroughly distracted by Laker and his trains once more, Carl-Roman gave Marley the chance to just watch the unfamiliar family dynamic around the room, her wide eyes taking everything in with the wonder of a child experiencing family life for the first time. She took in the way Grace and Peter spoke quietly, anxiously waiting for the twins to be back from their grandparents. She watched as Archie and Laker fell into the same easy rapport they’d shared since their first meeting some twenty years before. Marley smiled at the way Reagan and Indie interacted, including her with smiles and gentle tugs on the end of her braid.

  But, out of everybody in the room, it was baby Chase that had her attention the most. As he wobbled and teetered beside Archie, grabbing for the teething toys spread around his chubby little legs, she couldn’t help but gaze at him, confused but oh-so-curious of this strange little creature, the likes of which she’d never seen.

  Checking that her mother was distracted, she slid from her lap and edged closer to Chase, peering at the adults around the room as she made it to within touching distance of him. He noticed her then, smiling a big, gummy, two-toothy grin and babbling some nonsensical sounds as he reached for her. Chase would’ve face-planted the carpet if she hadn’t quickly darted forwards, eyes like saucers as she managed to turn him onto his back in the air. His curl-covered head barely bumped the carpet, but the shock startled him, and he let out a single, sharp cry before getting distracted by Marley’s braid swinging over him as she hovered, nervous she’d be told off but worried about the squirming baby.

  “Oh, what’re you doing, bud?” Archie reached for Chase, twisting him back up to sit on his bottom. Once again, his gummy grin returned as he stared at Marley, contentedly playing with her hair when she leaned close enough for his chubby arms to reach. “He likes you,” Archie murmured, grinning at the sight of his niece and son bonding for the first time.

  Marley’s smile grew slowly, her nerves at Archie’s proximity overshadowed by her curiosity about Chase. Growing in confidence, she reached out a hand to stroke his cheek, snatching her hand back when he turned and began gumming on her fingers.

  “He’s just teething, that’s all. His baby teeth are coming, so he likes to chew on things like a dog does.”

  It took a few seconds for Archie to blanch, looking to Indie when he registered Marley’s confused expression and head-tilt. “She knows what a dog is, right?”

  Indie shook her head sadly. “I don’t think so, no. She’s seen cats because there were two…um, she’s seen cats, but not dogs.”
r />   “Jesus…” Archie breathed, shaking his head.

  “Marley, c’mere a second,” Laker called, crouching in the living room doorway with his arms outstretched. Always happy to go to Laker, Marley darted around the sofas and clung to him, smiling as he stood with her in his arms. “This is a dog.” He picked up his phone from the cabinet it had been resting on, and the whole room heard the panting, then barking, of the dog in the video he showed her.

  “Oh, would you look at that,” Peter sighed, his grin wide and wistful as he squeezed Grace gently around the shoulders.

  Marley’s face was split in two by her ear-to-ear smile, the sparkle in her eyes undeniable. She bounced a little in Laker’s arms, patting his cheek in excitement before snatching the phone with both hands to put it even closer to her face, her eyes a hair’s width from the screen.

  “Careful, you’ll get square eyes,” he warned gently, a chuckle in his voice. It only occurred to him once he’d said it that such a phrase would be totally foreign to her.

  Not that Marley was listening. She was utterly entranced in the video in front of her. He moved to take a seat on the pouf, settling her on his lap to continue watching the Golden Retrievers on the screen.

  ~ oOo ~

  Morning segued into afternoon, and the girls slipped away for some quiet time and to persuade Marley to take a nap. She’d slowly warmed up to Carl-Roman, so they’d had to drag her weary body away from where they were lying side-by-side on the carpet surrounded by his vast train collection.

  Not ready to venture back into Indie’s bedroom, where they’d spent many days as children, Indie and Grace took an hour to calm their racing hearts, minds, and emotions in Reagan’s room. Five minutes after curling up on the bed with Marley and Mr. Bunny between them, Indie had an errant thought.

  This room was unchanged, too.

  The silvery-grey, geometric wallpaper, the dark wood floor covered mostly by a lilac rug, the vase of artificial white lilies on the mantle over the decorative fireplace, and the bedspread with a purple throw over one end…it was all exactly the same. Exactly how they’d left it.

  Exactly how Penelope left it.

  Sixteen years after her death and the master bedroom was exactly the same as it had been since Reagan and Penelope decorated it in July of eighty-eight, a month after Archie was born. Somehow, the thought of her dad hanging on to not just her long-gone mum but also to her, obvious in the way her bedroom hadn’t been touched in twelve years, brought hot tears to Indie’s eyes.

  She didn’t know it, but Grace was silently crying for the same things. Having briefly visited her own house earlier, she knew it was in much the same state as Reagan’s—stuck in a time warp.

  When Indie and Grace felt ready to leave Reagan’s room, they adjusted their sleep-mussed hair and held hands to offer each other silent, much-needed support. Marley scrambled from beneath the covers, Mr. Bunny tucked under one arm, and walked behind them with a tiny fist clenched around the fabric of her mother’s left trouser leg.

  Emerging into the kitchen, the trio spotted Reagan first, then Peter, Archie, Laker, and Carl-Roman moments later. The little boy was leaning over the table, his height aided by a bright red booster seat, scribbling frantically on a piece of paper. Grace’s lips tipped upwards when she spotted his tongue poking out at the side of his mouth. Archie saw where her eyes had gone and chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I used to do the same thing.”

  Confused for a moment, Reagan and Peter looked between Grace and Archie.

  “Oh!” Reagan laughed, grinning. “Your buddies used to tease you mercilessly over that. Do you remember?”

  “Yes,” Archie groaned theatrically, far too happy to be annoyed by their good-natured ribbing. Nothing could sour his mood. “You used to drive me mad, making fun of me.”

  Laker plastered an innocent expression on his face when he saw where Archie’s pointed glare was aimed—right at him. “Hey, now! I never!”

  Indie laughed, a peal so bright and sunny it lit the room for a moment. Everyone stopped in their tracks, all eyes swivelling towards her as she tipped her head back, reminiscing. “You so did, Laker! I think you even used to get us to help you wind him up about it!” With her eyes closed, she didn’t notice everybody looking at her until she shook the memories away, flushing under their scrutiny.

  Laker’s grin was so, so wide as he chuckled, opening his arms to Marley when she peered around Indie’s leg to see why he was laughing. She darted across the room, clambering into his lap and settling back against his chest. Carl-Roman continued colouring, but silently pushed some paper and a tub of pens and pencils in her direction. She was curious, but didn’t reach out to investigate right away.

  “Oh, check you out! Ratting on me,” Laker shook his head in mock reproach. “You do remember the penalty for that, right?”

  It took a few seconds, but Laker saw the moment it hit her. Grace was a second behind him; she shrunk back, covering her smile with a hand as Indie began slowly shaking her head.

  “No…Laker, you wouldn’t…”

  Reagan and Peter guffawed, Carl-Roman joining in despite not knowing what they were laughing at, while Archie just sat back in his chair with his crossed arms over his chest, enormous grin firmly in place as he watched Laker shift Marley to sit on the chair he was vacating. He crept across the room, his feet making little sound on the tiles. Indie slunk slowly backward, hitting the wall with her hands splayed against the cream paintwork with an ever-so-slight tremor.

  Alarm bells began to ring in her head. Loud and intrusive, they screamed that she should run. A man advancing on her like this could never be a good thing…except it was. He was teasing. Indie remembered the punishment for ratting.

  Tickling.

  “Laker…” she warned quietly, pleased when the word came out without a wobble.

  He grinned, but it was tempered by an odd look. Like he was trying to put her at ease, even as he stalked towards her. Indie felt her lips twitching towards a smile, her body remembering the torture of tickling despite having not felt it for over twelve years. She’d always been incredibly ticklish, ever since she was a baby.

  Reagan had once greatly enjoyed dressing her, making sure to tickle her chubby baby belly and tiny feet. Her mind strayed back in time, to the years when tickling was a daily occurrence and she’d enjoyed touch. Her thoughts lingered on the laughter it had wrung from her body, and the way she’d antagonise her daddy over the back of the sofa so that he’d chase her to tickle her sides until she was breathless.

  Memories of not-so-funny touches edged closer, but Indie fought them, her overwhelmed mind unable to cope with more than she was already dealing with.

  Lost in thought, Indie was startled back to the present by Laker’s fingers reaching her. He pressed lightly at the one spot he knew she couldn’t handle—the spot just below her bottom-right rib. She crumpled like an accordion, unable to stop herself laughing as she curled into herself, ducking away from Laker’s hand as it came at her again and again until they were both panting, cheek-splitting smiles adorning their faces as he extended a hand and they agreed on a truce.

  As she watched, having taken the seat beside Marley who was now leaning across the table, colouring with Carl-Roman for the first time, Grace dashed tears from her cheeks.

  Indie was laughing. Laughing. Laker had touched her, albeit fleetingly and in a way Indie knew was friendly. But still, she’d allowed him close enough to touch her, and she was laughing about it.

  Before they’d boarded the plane back in New York, Megan had made Grace promise to keep her updated once they were back home. She had no doubt that this was exactly the type of thing she’d want to know about; exactly the kind of thing she’d smile and congratulate them for.

  Progress.

  chapter seventeen

  Careful to close the French doors quietly, Laker’s trainer-clad feet made little to no sound as he sighed, running a hand through his hair before stepping into the kitchen
and making for the living room. His brow furrowed, however, when the sound of harsh panting broke through the quiet. Soft, mint green eyes swung around in search of the source. His feet carried him another two steps into the room before his gaze fell on her.

  Though she was curled into a ball on the floor against a cupboard, it was clear the young woman with Reagan’s blond curls and Penelope’s petite frame was Indie.

  Her body trembled with the force of her breathing, warbled sobs marring the otherwise peaceful night. Without thinking, Laker moved closer and fell to his knees beside Indie. “Hey, hey, steady,” he breathed, resting his hand gently on her shoulder. The shudder that rippled through her would have been obvious even if he hadn’t felt it.

  “L-Laker? What are you doing down here?”

  Laker winced, hearing the pain lacing her stuttered words loud and clear. “I went out for a smoke, I didn’t want to wake anyone going out the front door. Sometimes it squeaks.”

  “I remember.” Though timid and softly spoken, Indie’s words were resolute. She remembered the squeaky door. Laker wasn’t sure why but he felt his lips tug upwards in response. The only thing stopping them from turning into a full-blown smile was the fact that she was still shaking violently on the kitchen floor.

  “Can I get you anything? What happened?” A shake of her head was all the answer Laker received. He rocked back on his heels, hating that he didn’t know what to do, how to help. Musically talented? Sure, he could admit that, but schooled in dealing with tears?

  Not so much.

  “I c-can’t stop sh-shaking,” Indie suddenly moaned. Her hands slid up into tangled blonde curls, tugging hard as she rested her forehead on her bent knees.

  Laker hesitated before asking, “Are you cold? Can I get you a blanket, jumper…?” Another head shake. No. His eyes moved from the small sliver of her face he could see from this angle to the dark blue knitted wrap around her shoulders. It was thick, he could tell, and she was also sporting a pair of turquoise jogging bottoms drawn to her calves. On her tiny feet were a pair of navy ballet slippers and since it wasn’t exactly cold outside, he couldn’t figure out why Indie was shivering so fiercely.