by Laura Drewry
“You what?” His friend stared back at him for a couple of painfully long seconds before setting the finishing gun down and scrubbing his hand across the back of his neck. “To where? When? And why?”
“Back to Etobicoke.” Brett rolled his take-out cup between his hands and blew out a breath. “I came out here because it was what Kerri wanted, but once that went sideways, I, uh…I don’t know. My post’s up, my folks are back east…seems like the right thing.”
Okay, a little more awkward than Brett expected, so he did the only thing he could think of: he dragged the garbage bin over and started chucking things into it.
“I thought you liked it here,” Nick said.
“I do, but…I don’t know. Sort of feels like I’m just killing time, waiting for something to happen or for something to come along to, I don’t know, make this place ‘it,’ you know?” He reached for the push broom and started sweeping up bent nails and the piles of sawdust. “Maybe it’s time to move on.”
“You mean move back.”
“Whatever.”
It took Nick another couple of seconds before he let out a low whistle and shook his head again. “Well…shit, man. How much longer will you be here?”
“Depends. Could be a couple weeks, could be a couple months.”
“A couple…Oooh, buddy, Jayne’s gonna be some pissed at you.”
Brett never should’ve come out west in the first place. How many times had the other cops on his watch warned him that it wouldn’t last with Kerri, that she wasn’t really in love with him, she was in love with the hero he’d been when he’d pulled her out of that burning car? He should have listened, he should have known that the hero shine would wear off soon enough, leaving nothing but plain old Brett Hale, and there was no way a free spirit like Kerri would have been satisfied with that for long.
He liked having roots; she needed to keep moving. He liked meat loaf and mashed potatoes; she wasn’t happy unless her taste buds were on fire. He liked structure; she thrived in chaos. And right up until the day she left, he thought it was a good thing when she said he made her feel safe.
Apparently not.
Even if Kerri hadn’t left him, Brett had never expected to stay in Newport Ridge indefinitely. He’d figured a posting would eventually open up in Vancouver or one of the suburbs and then they’d be set, so after she left, the only thing that changed about all that was the geography. Instead of looking for postings around Vancouver, he was looking closer to home.
Putting in his time and transferring out had always been the plan, and yet in the six years he’d been here, he’d never mentioned it to anyone outside the detachment. And it wasn’t until he’d sat across from Ellie the other night and said it out loud that he’d felt the first sliver of doubt.
And why was that? Because for about a billionth of a second, something had flickered in her eyes that he thought might have been regret. But then it was gone, and they were right back to where they’d always been. He wasn’t stupid—he knew it was nothing short of insane for him to feel anything for her. Besides, it hadn’t been anything more than the beginning of a flicker, so it would be easy to squelch, especially if he was leaving town.
“You better tell her before she hears it from someone else.” Nick’s voice made Brett blink into focus. “She’s not real good with letting go, especially of someone like you.”
“Yeah.”
Brett had only met Jayne a couple of years ago, when she moved back to town, but by then he’d heard all about her from Nick, who’d known her his whole life. Not really one for hugging or verbalizing her feelings, none of that stopped Jayne from taking Brett into her life and making him part of her family. She never let more than a few days go by without talking to him, she worried like an old hen about his job, and at least twice a week she brought him “leftovers.” She insisted that’s all it was, but Brett had it on good authority that she dished up his “leftovers” before she and Nick sat down to eat.
She’d even tried to set him up on a couple of dates, both of which had turned out to be complete disasters, as were every other setup Jayne arranged, but she hadn’t given up. Jayne’s friends were her family, and she made it her mission to do what she could to make her family happy.
His sister had been like that, too, and while Jayne would never replace Rosie, she came pretty damn close.
“Maybe I’ll stop by before we go to Carter’s.”
“Screw that—go now. We’re done here, anyway.”
“By myself?” Brett shook his head. “I’ll wait until you’re…”
Nick was already laughing. “You walk around most days with a nine-mil hanging off one hip and a Taser hanging off the other, but you’re scared of a woman half your size? What do you think she’s going to do?”
“I’m not scared of her,” he said, wondering if his smile hit his face this time. “I’d just feel better if I went in with backup.”
“In case she cries.”
“Exactly.”
“Wuss.”
Brett didn’t even try to deny it. Instead, he just kept on sweeping up until the jobsite was back in order the way Nick liked it.
By the time they got to Nick and Jayne’s, Brett had somehow managed to convince himself that he was making too much of it. Sure, Jayne might be a little upset, but come on—it wasn’t like he’d never talk to them again. Between phone calls and social media, they’d barely notice he was gone.
—
When he finished telling her, she just sat there for a few seconds not saying anything. Then she stood up, turned, and walked straight out of the room. Nick followed her into the next room and closed the door, and while Brett wasn’t trying to hear what was being said, he could make out Nick’s voice, soothing and calm, between Jayne’s muffled sniffs.
Not sure what he should do, Brett stayed in the kitchen, where they’d left him, sipping his beer and feeling like a total schmuck until they finally came out again.
Jayne hesitated at the kitchen door, then walked straight at him and threw her arms around him.
“Uh…okay.” In all the time he’d known her, this was the first time she’d ever hugged him, so it took him a second to react.
“See,” Nick chuckled. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Jayne’s eyes were red and her cheeks a little splotchy, but when she spoke, she still managed to smile.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “So when do you think you’ll be going?”
“I’m, uh, not sure exactly. I have to wait and see what comes available.”
With Nick’s arm draped around her shoulders, she nodded as a look of determination slowly crept over her expression.
“Okay. So all we need to do is find something that’ll change your mind before a posting comes up. Right. Good. We can do that.”
“Nothing’s going to change my mind, Jayne.”
But she’d already turned away, her focus now on setting up for Ellie and her mom’s visit. The determined look on her face remained—in fact, it fixed itself even deeper in her eyes as she moved around the kitchen, setting out plates of food and wineglasses.
Maya arrived first, carrying a giant bag of potato chips and what looked like a bulk-food bag bulging with chocolate-covered almonds.
“Hungry?” Nick laughed.
“Don’t start with me,” she warned. “I have a raging case of PMS and I—”
“Whoa! We’re outta here!”
—
With four students in total signed up, Brett noted that the age range in this group was a lot wider than he usually had.
“Aw, snap, dude, no one said anything about five-oh running this thing.”
“Morning, Angus.” Brett handed the sixteen-year-old a workbook and a pencil, then pointed him toward the long table at the front of the room. “Take a seat.”
With another long groan, the kid tossed his book onto the table, then slumped down on the chair at the far end. Next came a tall, thin twenty-year-old guy who bent i
n a barely there bow when he walked in. Last in were Ellie and old Mrs. Goodsen, who walked together, arm in arm. The old woman’s other hand gripped the top of a cane with as much strength as her arthritic knuckles would allow, but even with both it and Ellie for balance, it was a slow go.
Whereas Mrs. G came dressed like she was off to church in her Sunday-best flowery dress and pearls, Ellie wore a loose-fitting cream-colored silk blouse with low-rise jeans and a brown leather jacket that matched her knee-high boots. A long silver pendant hung around her neck, resting just below her breasts. Before he got caught staring—at the pendant, not the breasts—Brett turned his attention back to Mrs. Goodsen.
“Mrs. G, good to see you.” He bobbed a brief nod of hello at Ellie, who wasn’t even looking at him, then held out the closest chair for the older woman.
“Thank you,” she said, pointing toward the chair next to Angus. “But I’d like to sit over there by that young man.”
Ellie helped Mrs. G over to the seat, then came back around and took the only chair left, the one closest to Brett.
“Great,” Angus groaned, shifting his chair a little farther away and letting out a loud, obnoxious sigh. “Stuck between Five-Oh and Mrs. Doubtfire. Can I at least sit beside the hot chick?”
“You already are,” Ellie shot back, winking at Mrs. G.
Brett jumped in and began class by having everyone introduce themselves, starting with himself.
“My name’s Brett Hale, and I’m a constable with the local RCMP detachment. Angus?”
He waited a couple of seconds to see if the kid was going to say anything, but all he did was cock his eyebrow.
“Everyone,” Brett said, “this is Angus. He’s very happy to be here, and he’s looking forward to mastering the art of defensive driving. Mrs. G?”
“I’m Edith Goodsen. My grandson, Jeff, seems to think I’m no longer capable of driving a car, so I’m here to prove him wrong.”
Brett could feel Ellie’s gaze on him, but he didn’t need to look back at her to know what it meant. She was just as worried about Mrs. G as he was. At eighty-five, with two hip replacements behind her and unable to walk very far without help of some kind, her reflexes might not be fast enough to help her avoid possible collisions. Despite his misgivings, Brett would do what he could for her and hope for the best.
“Junjie?” Brett said slowly. “Am I saying that right?”
The young fellow next to Mrs. G laughed quietly, then quickly bowed his head again before speaking. “Say like, um, Jay-ung-gee. I move Canada with Mother and Grandmother one year.”
“Junjie.” Brett repeated it again, slower, until Junjie nodded. “And you’ve been in Canada for a year?”
“Yes. One year. We move Taipei. Need drive for Grandmother.”
Mrs. Goodsen reached over and patted his hand. “Your English is excellent.”
“Thank you,” he said slowly. “Miss Goodzen.”
“Call me Edith.”
“Good,” Brett answered, hoping she didn’t notice the way Angus rolled his eyes.
Then he turned and waited for Ellie to speak. The look she gave him was the same one that usually came right before she called him Dudley Do-Right, except this time her face softened and a small, guilty grin tugged at her mouth.
“I’m Ellie, I own the boutique Pandora’s downtown, and apparently I’m a menace on the road, so I’m here to be fixed.”
“What means ‘menace’?” Junjie asked.
With her cheeks glowing pink, Ellie laughed. “It means I’m a very bad driver and I need to be reprogrammed.”
“Ah,” he nodded. “Menace bad.”
It was on the tip of Brett’s tongue to correct her, but he didn’t. She wasn’t a bad driver; she never lost control of her vehicle, she didn’t cut off other drivers, she didn’t run red lights, and she always signaled before changing lanes or turning. The problem with Ellie always came down to speed. If she could learn to go a little easier on the gas pedal, she’d be damn near perfect.
Yup, he mused, letting his gaze linger on her a moment longer. Damn near perfect.
Clearing his throat, Brett pulled up a chair and opened his copy of the book. “So let’s get started. First thing we’re going to go over is the different responsibilities you have when you get behind the wheel. Angus, as a new driver, what do you think that means?”
And so began the longest eight hours of his life. Angus’s participation consisted of an occasional grunt, offered with varying degrees of enthusiasm, and snide comments about how stupid the whole thing was. Junjie was keen but easily distracted by Mrs. G, who tended to veer off the topic if Brett didn’t keep her focused.
As for Ellie, she didn’t say much, but she watched and listened intently, without a single sideways comment about him or his profession. He tried not to look over at her too much, though he could feel her watching him most of the day, even when the others were working on their street-signs sheet.
When he finally allowed himself to glance over at her, he was surprised to see her face set in a deep, studious frown.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. “Ellie?”
When she didn’t answer right away, the rest of the group stopped and looked over at her. She blinked a few times, shook her head, and cleared her throat.
“No, it’s…” She blinked again and swallowed hard. “It’s nothing.”
It didn’t look like nothing to him. In fact, it looked like a whole lot of something, but he knew better than to push it. The last thing he needed was her referring to him as Dudley Do-Right or Poncherello in front of the class.
When they finally broke for lunch, Junjie and Angus scattered, while Ellie and Mrs. G both pulled food out of their bags.
“Will you join us?” Mrs. G asked, making Ellie chuckle when Brett balked.
“Oh, I, uh, thanks,” he said, shooting a quick glance Ellie’s way. “But I think I’ll just run out and grab something.”
“Nonsense. We have plenty, don’t we, dear?”
“Plenty,” Ellie parroted behind her smirk as she slid her sandwich toward the middle of the table. “Help yourself.”
Mrs. G held out a small thermos and nodded at the lid. “Would you open that for me?”
Ellie poured some of the soup into the small plastic bowl Mrs. G set out. “It doesn’t feel very warm—can I go heat it up for you? There must be a microwave or stove around here somewhere.”
“I like it on the cool side, but maybe you could heat some up for Brett there.”
“No,” he said, maybe a little quicker than he should have. Asking Ellie to go heat him up soup was just inviting trouble, and they’d done pretty well so far. “It’s fine.”
A couple of mouthfuls of lukewarm tomato soup out of the thermos lid and half of Ellie’s BLT—that was lunch.
“Look at us,” she mumbled when Mrs. G got up to stretch her legs. “Two meals together in one week; if that doesn’t get people talking, I don’t know what will.”
“They’re probably already—”
“Oh, drat,” Mrs. G interrupted. “I thought I had some candy in my bag, but it looks like I’m all out. Is there a vending machine somewhere?”
“Will these do?” Brett reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small bag of red Swedish Berries, hands down the best candy in the world. “Consider it my contribution to lunch.”
“Lovely.”
He poured them into a napkin in his palm, held them out to Mrs. G, then moved back over to the table and held them out to Ellie, whose gaze narrowed suspiciously.
“What?” he asked. “You don’t like candy?”
“No, it’s not—” She stopped, still watching him with a bit of disbelief as she reached for some. “Never mind. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. For a second there, you had me thinking my choice in candy was going to be yet another strike against me.”
Again, he meant it as a joke, but she didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile.
Great.
>
Chapter 6
“Uh, no, Ponch. When we first met, you had just fallen off a dirtbike.”
—Officer Jon Baker, CHiPs
Days later, Ellie still wasn’t sure what had happened during that first class. Somewhere between Understanding Intersections and Know Your Road Signs she’d found herself staring at Brett, and she had no idea why. To make it worse, he’d not only caught her staring, but the whole class had ended up staring back at her.
And then at lunch, when he pulled those red berries out of his pocket…she gave her head a brief shake. Candies? Really? Was she actually that pathetic that she’d let a handful of candies make her change her opinion of him?
Well, it wasn’t just any old candy, and he’d almost smiled when she took some, so, yeah, there was that.
A little time with the girls, that’s what she needed, and Tuesday night couldn’t come fast enough. Last week had been a little awkward because she’d sat there all night going back and forth over whether or not she should say anything about Brett having dinner at her house, and had ultimately said nothing at all. Why?
That was a damn good question. It might have been because she didn’t want them to know how easily her mom could steamroll her, or it might have been because they’d want to know what she and Brett had talked about, and it wasn’t Ellie’s place to tell them about his transfer. And then, of course, there was the fact that a simple smile from him made her do a face plant into the door.
Yeah, explain that one, she mused. In the end, the only thing she’d told them was that Ponch was the only driving instructor in town, so between class time and the twelve hours of actual driving she had to put in with him, they’d be spending a lot of time together in the coming weeks. And given her history with him, Ellie couldn’t blame them for laughing as hard as they had. Hell, even she laughed after a while.
As she’d done last week after closing up the store, she called her mom and asked if Gail wanted to join them for a drink at Chalker’s, then silently cheered when she again declined. Tuesday night was NCIS night, and apparently nothing got between Gail and Gibbs. Even Buck, who’d called every night since Gail arrived, had been told he’d have wait until the episode was over.