“Is Rachel in her crib?” Brandon asked.
Worriedly gathering her worn robe around her, Claire nodded.
“While I go and check on her, why don’t you keep Chelsea company?” Brandon said to Claire. “If I need you, I’ll holler.”
“Okay,” Claire answered.
As Brandon walked down the lone hallway with his bag, Claire beckoned Chelsea toward the kitchen dinette set, where they sat down.
“Some coffee?” Claire asked her. “Or somethin’ stronger, mebbe?”
“Coffee’s fine,” Chelsea answered.
While Claire rifled through her cupboards, her embarrassment over not being able to produce two matching coffee cups became palpable. But they were clean, Chelsea realized as Claire poured two steaming cupfuls. Claire put the coffeepot back on the burner, then joined Chelsea at the table. An awkward silence reigned for a time as two women from vastly different worlds each searched for something to say.
“So you inherited the place next to Brandon’s,” Claire finally said.
“Yes. At first I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to keep it. But then I came up here, and I was hooked.”
“So where’re you from?” Claire asked.
Chelsea sipped her coffee. “Syracuse,” she answered. “Fayetteville, actually.”
“I’ve heard of Syracuse, o’ course,” Claire answered. “Can’t honestly say the same for Fayetteville.”
Chelsea gave Claire a little smile. “That’s understandable,” she said. “Until recently, I’d never heard of Serendipity.”
Claire produced a rumpled pack of cigarettes from her night coat. “You mind?” she asked.
Chelsea shook her head. Claire expertly lit a cigarette with an old Zippo, then she lifted her chin and gratefully blew some smoke toward the ceiling. Smoking seemed to calm her, Chelsea noticed. But then Claire’s worry over Rachel resurfaced, and she again stared down the hallway.
“Brandon’s a great guy,” she said absently. “Any woman would be happy to have him.”
Chelsea nodded, then took another sip of the strong coffee. “From what little I know of him,” she answered, “I think you’re right.”
As if trying to comfort herself, Claire absently rubbed one arm. “Not long ago,” she said, “one of the local girls nearly hooked him. But it ended badly. It wasn’t his fault, but he still thinks that it was. Has he told you about it?”
Chelsea very much wanted to hear Claire’s story about Brandon. But at the same time, she didn’t want to appear too eager. Before replying she took another sip of coffee, then sat back casually in her chair.
“No,” she said. “He hasn’t. From what I gather, he doesn’t talk about himself much.”
Claire snorted. “Understatement of the century,” she answered. “After what happened, I’m not sure that any woman will ever get that close again. He won’t let ’em, you see.”
Chelsea knew that she’d be pressing her luck to ask more, but her curiosity won out. “Would you mind telling me about it?” she asked innocently.
As she pondered things, Claire took another luxurious drag on her cigarette. She seemed to enjoy it so much that Chelsea began wondering if smoking was Claire’s only form of refuge.
“Well,” she said at last, “I don’t suppose that telling you’d hurt anything. It’s common knowledge, anyway. Ya see, it all started when—”
Just then they heard a horn blow and the telltale sound of tires crunching down upon the driveway gravel. To Chelsea’s horror, she looked out the window to see that Pug had come home. When he exited his battered old truck and saw Brandon’s floatplane, his face turned scarlet with rage. Claire’s hands immediately flew to her face.
“Oh, good Jesus . . . ,” she whispered. “He wasn’t supposed to be back so soon!” Then she started trembling all over. “This is gonna be bad . . . ,” she whispered. “Pug hates Brandon! Even swore to kill him once! The two of them ain’t been face-to-face for nearly three years! God only knows what will happen now!”
Wide-eyed, Claire hurried toward the hallway. “Brandon!” she shouted. “Brandon! Pug’s come back!”
When Brandon appeared he was cradling Rachel with one arm and holding his bag with his free hand. The baby was crying loudly, adding to the thick sense of tension. Pug would be inside in mere moments, Chelsea realized. Knowing that her place was beside Brandon, she rose from her chair and hurriedly joined him.
Just then the weathered front door blew open so violently that its lone window nearly shattered. On the other side of the landing stood Pug. He didn’t seem drunk, but he was clearly enraged. When he saw Brandon holding his daughter he pointed accusingly at him, and his face took on a twisted, hate-filled expression.
“You son of a bitch!” he shouted. “You just can’t stay out of my life, can you?”
He then glared at Claire, causing her to cringe noticeably and to gather her modest housecoat closer, as if it might somehow protect her from her husband’s fury.
“I suppose that you asked him to come out here!” he shouted at Claire. “Well, I’ll deal with you later. Now go and get my daughter back!”
Chelsea watched as Claire obeyed Pug without question. It was a sad thing to see, causing Chelsea to wonder how long Claire had been under this terrible man’s thumb. After Brandon handed Rachel over, Claire took her into the kitchen and put her in her high chair.
Pug walked menacingly closer to Brandon and Chelsea. As he neared, Brandon whispered to Chelsea, “Get behind me. Don’t question me, and do it right now.”
While Chelsea did as Brandon ordered, Pug took a few more steps. Then he stopped and smiled wickedly at her. As he did, Chelsea suddenly recalled how much he had repulsed her that morning at the diner. When Pug took yet another step, Brandon held his ground.
“Well, hello there, precious,” Pug said to Chelsea. “Nice to see you again. I guess that you just can’t stay away from me either, huh?”
“Leave her alone, Pug,” Brandon said. “I’ve done all I can here, and we’re going to go. But first, you need to know that Rachel should be admitted to the hospital. She’s got the beginnings of pneumonia, and in a child it can escalate very quickly. She needs antibiotics and professional care, neither of which she’ll get here.”
“Says who?” Pug asked nastily. “You, I suppose? And just why should I listen to you? You’re the medical genius who loses people on the table, right?” He then looked at Chelsea again. “Are you sure that you wouldn’t like to stay, girlie?” he asked. “After the doc leaves, you and me could have some fun.”
Chelsea was scared but also enraged. And although she was trying to control her temper, it was becoming a losing fight. As an idea occurred to her, she stepped to Brandon’s left, looked Pug straight in the eyes, and shook her head. She then lifted one hand up above her shoulder.
“You remember the height requirement, don’t you, Pug?” she asked. “Well, guess what? You still don’t qualify.”
His rage escalating sharply, Pug stepped closer yet. As he did, Chelsea sensed Brandon tense up.
“I’d like to pay you for your time,” Pug said to Brandon. “Seems only right, don’t you think?”
Brandon’s eyes narrowed warily. Not only did Pug have no intention of paying him, he knew, he probably didn’t have the money, anyway. Stay alert, he thought. Something’s about to happen . . .
Pug took one more step, which finally brought him to within striking range. To Brandon, his intent was clear. Brandon dropped his bag to the floor and shook his head.
“Don’t do it, Pug,” he warned. “It won’t go well for you.”
“Bullshit!” Pug shouted. “I never did believe that crap about you being an army ranger! We both know that you ain’t got the stones for it!”
Chelsea watched in fear as Pug formed his right hand into a tight fist. Please, Brandon, she thought. Please tell me that you see it, too . . .
“Besides, I only want to give you what you got comin’,” Pug said. “And I’ve go
t it right here, special delivery . . .”
Suddenly, Pug’s right fist lashed out at Brandon’s face. As it did, Brandon quickly slid forward, directly into the arc of the oncoming blow. He immediately slung one arm under Pug’s striking arm and then twisted it upward, wrenching Pug’s shoulder to its limits. As Pug cried out in pain, Brandon closed his thumb tightly against the palm of his free hand, then slammed the exposed fist knuckle of his index finger directly into Pug’s larynx. Gasping in agony, Pug crashed backward against the nearest wall like a broken doll and then fell straight to the floor.
Transfixed, Chelsea watched Pug desperately gasp for air. His face had gone scarlet again, this time from lack of oxygen. Drool dripped from his mouth and his blank, dazed eyes gazed out at nothing. Brandon went to him. He quickly checked Pug’s pulse and looked into his eyes.
“You’ll live,” he said. “Just relax and breathe, you dumb bastard. If I’d wanted you dead, you would be.”
Still awestruck by what Brandon had done, Chelsea watched as Pug tried to marshal his breathing. After a few seconds more he partially recovered but was still unable to stand upright. Reaching out, Brandon grabbed the lapels of Pug’s dirty work jacket, then he hauled him to his feet and pulled him close, so close he could smell Pug’s fetid breath.
“Now, you listen to me,” he ordered. “If you harm Claire or that baby in any way, or if you ever harass Chelsea again, I’ll come back here. And trust me, that’s not something you want. Are we clear?”
Still gasping, Pug nodded stupidly.
“Good,” Brandon said.
At last, Brandon let him go. Totally defeated, Pug again crashed down onto the cheap linoleum floor and lay there. Then Brandon looked over at Claire. Shocked by what had just happened, she was trembling noticeably.
“Use Pug’s truck and take Rachel to the Serendipity hospital,” Brandon ordered her. There was no sense of compromise in his voice. “And do it right now,” he added, “while you still can. I’ll call and tell them that I want her held for observation. I’ll order some antibiotics for her, then I’ll look in on her tomorrow and give you a call. Do you understand?”
Claire nodded nervously.
“Good,” Brandon said. Then he turned and looked at Chelsea. “We’re leaving,” he told her.
After picking up his bag, he took Chelsea by one hand and briskly started leading her from the trailer. On reaching the door, he paused and looked back into Claire’s weepy eyes.
“I’m sorry, Claire,” he said quietly. “He left me no choice.”
“I know,” she answered.
Aside from the roar of the floatplane’s engine, Brandon and Chelsea’s flight back to Lake Evergreen was a quiet one.
Chapter 19
Brandon angrily swallowed another belt of bourbon. This was his third stiff drink in an hour, and Chelsea was beginning to worry for him. He had said absolutely nothing during the flight home and little else since angrily making a fire in Chelsea’s fireplace. Now he stood before the mantel staring silently into the flames. Deciding to remain quiet, Chelsea waited on the couch.
Outside, darkness had fallen. It was a quiet evening, save for the crackling fire and the rhythmic ticking of Brooke’s old mantel clock. Given the sense of tension pervading the living room, even those gentle sounds seemed deafening.
His expression now showing nothing but sadness, at last Brandon turned and joined Chelsea on the couch.
“I’m sorry about what happened back there,” he said. “I didn’t want to do it, but he left me no choice. And I especially apologize for insisting that you come along. It was stupid of me, it seems.”
“Well,” she said, “you didn’t know about my run-in with Pug until we were already there. That’s my fault. And for what it’s worth, I thought you were amazing. I’d forgotten about you being an ex-ranger.”
Brandon shook his head. “I still am a ranger,” he said. “You’re never an ex-ranger.”
“Okay,” Chelsea said. “But you only did what you had to.”
Chelsea took a sip of her red wine. Only a short time before the altercation, Brandon had sworn to protect her, and he had. With each passing hour, Chelsea was realizing with ever-greater certainty that Brandon was a rarity among men in this day and age. He was someone who always kept his word, and he seemed to live by a personal code of honor that appeared unshakable.
Even so, she remained concerned about his supposedly troubled past. Jenny had mentioned it that day at the diner. And in her own way, Claire had also alluded to it only hours ago. Despite what she knew about Brandon, Chelsea still didn’t fully understand him, and she very much wanted to. She didn’t want to pry and perhaps push him away. But clearly, there was something important he hadn’t told her, something about which others were aware but that he wasn’t willing to discuss with her. In order to truly know him, she had to discover what it was. But she also knew that getting him to talk about it would be difficult.
Despite all that, there was one thing about which Chelsea was certain. Somewhere deep inside Brandon, there existed a dichotomy. When it came to emoting for others, he never failed. But when called upon to express his own feelings, something oftentimes prevented him from doing so. He kept his emotions close and his past even closer. Chelsea knew something else, too. In order to draw him out, she would first have to admit something to him, something that had been growing inside her for some time.
Although Chelsea had thought long and hard about broaching the subject, even now she remained unsure. Given what had happened today, this was either the most opportune time to tell him what was in her heart or the worst. Hoping for the best, she decided to take the leap. It would be an important step for the two of them, she knew, if only he would open up to her, as well. After taking another sip of wine, she sidled a bit closer and looked into his eyes.
“There’s something I need to say,” she said. “And I hope that you can accept it in the same spirit in which it’s given.”
“All right,” he replied.
“I’ve come to care about you, Brandon,” Chelsea admitted. “Perhaps more than I should, given the brief time that I’ve known you. I willingly concede that. But if we’re going to continue seeing each other this way, I need to know what’s troubling you. There’s something wrong, I can sense it. You’ve been badly hurt, and I think that Pug Jennings is somehow a part of it.”
Pausing for a moment, she carefully considered her next words.
“You see,” she said, “every time I trust you with the contents of Brooke’s private journal, I’m also trusting you with the contents of my heart. One of the greatest needs a woman has is to be able to trust, and I’m no different. As much as it pains me to say it, unless you can be forthright with me, I’m not sure that I can go on like this.”
As she watched Brandon’s face, she realized that her words had affected him greatly. She now saw a sort of wistfulness there, a kind of acquiescence indicating that he might at last open his heart to her.
“You’re right,” he said. “I should explain it to you, but it’s so hard for me . . . You see, I’ve never actually told the story to anyone before. That might seem hard to believe, but because Serendipity is such a small town, I’ve never had to. In places so tiny and provincial, bad news travels fast, and it reaches into every corner.”
“It’s okay,” she said quietly. “I think I understand you well enough to know that whatever happened, you did nothing wrong.”
Brandon nodded. “Thank you for that,” he said. “I just wish that I could believe it, too.” While gathering his thoughts, he took a deep breath.
“Simply put,” he said, “Pug holds me responsible for the death of his sister Mallory.”
Although Chelsea was surprised, she tried not to show it. “Please go on,” she said.
While anxiously rolling his glass between his palms, Brandon paused for several moments.
“Mallory was wonderful,” Brandon said. “Blond, effervescent, highly intelligent . . . Eve
ryone loved her, and she was the apple of Pug’s eye. For his part, he was a far different person then. He held a steady job working for his father, and his marriage to Claire was good. He had always been something of a drinker, but rarely to excess. And believe it or not, we were once friends. But then Mallory died, and everything changed for him. When he began drinking harder to dull the pain of losing her, the alcohol fueled not only his growing sense of injustice but also his need to blame someone. In the end he chose me, and maybe he was right.”
As if trying to summon more strength, Brandon closed his eyes for several moments. Realizing that he was struggling, Chelsea remained quiet. When at last Brandon looked at her again, he shook his head.
“Mallory was only thirty when she passed,” he said. “Although she had a degree in advertising, she chose to work for her father, like Pug. They owned a very successful logging company. Mallory ran the office. She knew that she was never going to get rich at it, but she was happy, and that was what mattered most to her.”
Brandon took a deep breath. “She died from a hunting accident,” he said. “A lot of women up here love to hunt, and she was no exception. One fall day, she and Pug were out pheasant hunting. As it happened, Pug was walking behind her. Just then their dog suddenly flushed a bird, and Pug released the safety lever on his gun. But then he tripped and fell, and the gun went off. The bird shot struck Mallory in the back of her right shoulder, literally blowing her off her feet. Pug did the right thing by trying to stem the bleeding and rushing her to the hospital, but they were pretty far away.
“She was badly wounded,” he added, “and by the time Pug got her to the hospital, she had lost an irretrievable amount of blood. She finished bleeding out on my table, right before my eyes. I did everything I knew to try and save her, but she died before the surgeon could get prepped. I begged him to start working on her anyway, told him that the risk of her dying right there and then far outweighed that of any infection. But he wrongly assumed that she could hang on. In the end, there was nothing that either of us could do.”
More Than Words Can Say Page 16