Lilacs for Laura

by Dianne Miley

  What did Grandma see? Surely not Jake trying to rape her? It was too horrible to think her grandmother knew. Too coincidental that her vision came only hours after it occurred.

  Mortified, Laura left the room. She didn’t tell anyone what Grandma had said, afraid her reaction would give her away.

  And Grandma never awoke.

  ****

  On a hot Monday in August, people in black shook Laura’s hand, kissed her cheek, and patted her back. Their words droned like Charlie Brown’s mother. Brett stood beside her. Rainbows of flowers filled the church from florists all over the county.

  All she saw clearly was her grandmother’s face. All she heard were Grandma’s words, ringing over and over. ‘I know what he did. He’s going to die.’

  Emptiness and guilt overwhelmed her. Laura knew in her bones Grandma meant Jake. If only she hadn’t seen that vision, she would still be alive.

  And Laura was to blame. She knew Jake was after her. Only a fool would lie on his sofa like that. She shouldn’t have been making out with Brett in her sister’s house either.

  Good heavens, what if Jake had walked in on them? How would he have reacted? And how would Brett have retaliated? She rubbed her temples and tried to forget. The guilt and pain were unbearable. She had to escape.

  In a blur, she wandered outside. With a deep breath, she inhaled fresh air smelling of mown grass and late summer flowers. She focused on pointed maple leaves above her, and individual petals of purple coneflowers and black-eyed susans blooming in drifts around the church.

  Seeking solitude, she walked to the shade of an oak tree out back. Leaning against the rough bark, she poked at an acorn with the toe of her shiny black shoe. Beyond the churchyard, apple orchards ready for harvest lent sweetness to the air.

  A chill fell over her and her sixth sense kicked in. Hair stood on the back of her neck and every cell in her body prickled with alert. The smell of whiskey tipped her nose.

  Whipping around, she stared into Jake’s glazed eyes.

  “Glad to see me?” He smirked at her.

  “Get away from me,” she hissed.

  “Come on, I know you want me.” He stepped closer.

  “How could you?” Laura glared into his pitch black eyes.

  “Sorry I was drunk the other night.” He offered a sexy grin. “Just give me another chance.”

  “Get away from me!” she spat. Cold fear radiated through her as she backed away.

  “Come on, baby. What woman wouldn’t want me?” Arms stretched to display his physique, he advanced on her.

  Horrified, Laura turned to run but stumbled into a flowerbed. Her heels dug into the soft soil and wouldn’t budge. Desperate to get away, she scrambled for a foothold and tumbled onto the flowers.

  Jake grabbed her arms. “Come with me,” he begged, lifting her to her feet. Lust emanated from his eyes, his body, his every pore.

  Terror seized her as he pulled her from the garden and grinned toward the baseball dugout in the schoolyard next door.

  “Laura!” John called from the back door of the church.

  Jake’s head spun around and he dropped her arms.

  “What are you doing out there?” her father called.

  “She fell in the flowers,” Jake answered quickly. “I was just helping her up.” He shot her a pathetic look and brushed his hands on his pants.

  Shoeless, she ran toward her father. Jake followed.

  “Are you okay?” her dad asked with irritation.

  “Uh, yeah. I am now.” She calmed her voice but couldn’t stop trembling.

  “Look at you,” John pointed out the mud on her dress. “You’d better go home and change.” Looking down, he asked with clueless surprise, “Where are your shoes?”

  Jake laughed. “She left them stuck in the dirt.”

  “Get your shoes, get changed, and get back in the church,” her father reprimanded with uncharacteristic impatience. With a slight limp, he turned back to his mother’s funeral. Grief obviously tested his composure. And totally wiped out his perceptiveness.

  Brett appeared at the door and rushed toward her. He would surely protect her, but she was embarrassed that he’d think anything was going on between her and Jake.

  Besides, Laura needed to defend herself, not rely on someone else. She wasn’t Daddy’s baby girl anymore. She had to stand up to Jake. She didn’t have time to learn karate, but pepper spray should do the trick.

  As Brett reached her side and squeezed her hand protectively, she bit her tongue. She let him drive her home to change, but blew off his worried questions.

  She blamed herself and couldn’t risk his reaction. Or Rachel’s.

  Lilacs For Laura

  Lilacs For Laura

  Chapter 11—Suds in the Bucket

  With the hose on full force, Brett stood on his driveway and sprayed soap from the roof of his old Corvette. Scratches showed on the faded black surface, but a paint job wasn’t his priority right now.

  Finding a new job was. And keeping the little angel he had a date with tonight. He needed to prove he’d take care of her.

  They hadn’t been dating long enough for him to ask her to move away with him, but that’s what he wanted to do. He couldn’t imagine life without her. Friday and Saturday nights weren’t enough any more. He wanted to see her every day of his life.

  The feeling in his gut told him she was the one. Laura James, the long-haired blond with the swan yapping at her butt, the violet-eyed angel sending his pulse into overdrive.

  Yet he wasn’t sure if she felt as strongly about him. She didn’t want to move, and without a stable job, he certainly wasn’t marriage material. Was he ready for marriage?

  He yanked the hose for slack, and the water fell off to a limp stream. Pointing at the car, he turned to un-crimp the hose. When he turned back, water sprayed sharply across the hood. And into the open door of his father’s pickup. When did he pull up?

  Blasted with the spray, Wayne jumped back, arms flailing. Wide-eyed, Brett dropped the hose and stifled a laugh.

  But Wayne wasn’t laughing. Shouting curses, he glared at Brett. “What’s wrong with you, boy? Can’t you see me pulling up in a red truck big as life? You gotta douse your old man after he’s worked all day to support your lazy butt?”

  “I worked today too.” Seeing more red than the pickup, he’d had it with that attitude. “And I pay my own way around here.”

  “Is ‘at so? Well, it’s only ten after five and you look like you’ve been home a while.”

  “We get off early on Saturday.” Not wanting to get into this, Brett clenched his teeth. But he was tired of being Wayne’s punching bag.

  “Early on Saturday.” His father sneered like a cartoon character. “Well, I don’t think your measly rent covers that water you’re wasting.”

  “We have a well, for Pete’s sake!”

  “Takes electricity to pump the water.” His face hardened. “Rent goes up ten bucks a month. Starting today.”

  “An apartment would be cheaper.” Brett set his jaw.

  “Fine. Pack your bags.” Wayne slammed the truck door and water dripped from inside the seam. He stomped toward the house, leaving a trail of puddles.

  Brett’s blood boiled. Without thinking, he raised the hose and pulled the trigger full force.

  The cold torrent sliced across Wayne’s back. Throwing his arms up at the shock of it, he rounded on Brett.

  Narrowing his eyes, Brett pointed the nozzle at his father’s face and adjusted the spray to a razor-sharp stream. The rotten old man deserved it.

  Wayne jumped back. He shook off the blast and lowered his head like an angry bull. Fists balled at the end of his muscular arms. He surged at Brett, drew back one fisted arm, and cold-cocked his son.

  Stumbling, Brett clutched his eye. With a splat, he fell into a bucket of suds.

  “Hit the road,” his father bellowed. “And don’t come back.”

  Brett got to his feet and stood toe to toe with
his father. Tempted to fight back, he resisted with a look that dared his father to push him. A glimmer of fear shot through Wayne’s pupils, then relief, and then—respect? Had standing up to his father finally earned his respect?

  Wayne turned abruptly and thundered to the kitchen door.

  “Brett.” The tiny voice came from the front steps. His mother rushed out, carrying dry clothes and her purse. She shoved the clothes at him. “Take these.” She gingerly inspected his eye. Making a face, she touched his cheek. “You’ll have a black eye, but it’ll heal. Get some ice.”

  “Angelina!” Wayne boomed from the open front door.

  She hurried to her little Cavalier. “I’m going to Margaret’s for a while until he cools off,” she said to Brett. “Now get out of here. Fast. And make sure you put ice on that.”

  Before Wayne reached the bottom step, Brett was in the Corvette and Angelina had backed out of the driveway. Wayne stood alone in the front yard as both cars “hit the road” heading different directions. The broken bucket rolled into a puddle and puffs of suds floated into the air.

  Brett drove to the gas station, changed clothes in the disgusting rest room, and bought some ice. He sat in the car holding ice on his face until his cheek went numb. But nothing could numb the pain of his father’s violent anger. Wayne had never crossed that line before. Despite breaking dishes and throwing fits, he’d never actually hit Brett or Angelina. Thankfully, his mother knew to get out of there.

  Unwilling to dwell on what would happen now, Brett started the car with a roar and drove aimlessly through town. He stopped at the hardware store to buy a new bucket. As he chose a sturdy blue one near the end of an aisle, Myrtle Winthrop stood at the customer service counter nearby.

  “Will these cut through metal tubing?” she asked about a pair of tin snips. “I need to adjust my dress racks.” She added a spoon of sugar to her voice.

  Without listening for an answer, Brett headed for the checkout. He got in line behind Layla Gallagher, a blond bombshell who’d propositioned him in high school. He hung back, hoping she didn’t turn and recognize him. In skimpy shorts and a revealing halter, Layla sensuously slid her red nails across the counter to gather her change. The clerk placed a deadbolt lock into a plastic bag and handed it to her with a toothy grin. She took her purchase, smiled nervously, and strutted out the door.

  “Well, I never!” Myrtle came up behind Brett.

  He refused to acknowledge her, placing his bucket on the counter and reaching for his wallet. The cashier shot a double take at his swollen face.

  “When will Chief Hunter put a stop to that...that woman parading around town half naked! Indecent exposure is against the law.” Myrtle scarcely took a breath before spewing more venom. “That Gallagher clan is nothing but trouble. And the Santos bunch too. The police ought to run that riff-raff out of town,” she muttered under her breath.

  Brett checked out. He couldn’t handle that hypocritical old bat. She acted charming when it suited her, and a minute later stabbed someone in the back.

  Once in his car, he realized the hardware store had only killed six minutes. Five-twenty-five and Laura didn’t expect him until seven. But he had nowhere else to go.

  Her purple Camaro sat in the driveway of her grandmother’s house. With apprehension, he pulled in behind it.

  To his dismay, Emily answered the door. Her eyes, red from crying, widened when she saw his bruised face. “Oh! Brett! What happened to you?”

  “Long story, Mrs. James.” He looked at the ground. “Is Laura here?”

  “Yes, certainly.” She grasped his elbow. “Please, come in.”

  Reluctantly, he stepped over the threshold. She hurried off to get her daughter. Only a forlorn white cat occupied the tiny living room, laying in a square of sunlight on an old sofa. A smattering of nail holes marked the bare walls, and worn carpet rippled across the floor.

  Laura appeared with tear-stained cheeks. Her eyes bulged with horror. “What happened?” She rushed to his side and inspected his puffy eye.

  “Run in with a wet grizzly,” he answered humorlessly.

  “What?” She leaned toward him.

  A sorrowful laugh escaped him. “My father.”

  She tensed visibly. “He hit you?”

  “Uh, can we go outside?”

  “Did you put ice on that?”

  “Yes, mother hen.” He held up the baggie of ice in his hand. “My mom already gave me the lecture.”

  With a solemn nod, she opened the door and motioned him out. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he silently walked toward the pasture. Laura stayed close. He felt her intent gaze, but he stared at the grass until they stopped at the split rail fence. “Tell me what happened,” she insisted, twirling her hair.

  Looking at her, he felt more pain from her expression than from his eye. He stared out over the pasture and shrugged. “Dad and I had a fight. He slugged me.” His mouth clamped shut. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth.

  “Hey, I 'fessed up all the nasties about my family.” He felt more than saw her stern look from the corner of his eye. She placed one hand over his on the rough wooden fence and rubbed his shoulder with her other hand.

  “I want the sordid details,” she whispered.

  “All right.” He couldn’t help smiling at the concern in her voice. But smiling hurt his swollen eye. An odd combination of feelings brewed inside him. Hot, boiling rage cooled to devastating sadness and disappointment.

  Laura rested her head on his shoulder. More emotion swirled through his gut. Her loving concern for him showed. His love and desire for her mixed with uncertainty and fear. Did she love him enough to make a new life together away from Crystal Falls?

  He needed to leave, but strong protectiveness stirred for his mother. She was safe now, but for how long? When would Wayne turn on her too? Anger bubbled up again.

  Deep, deep hurt poured over the stew of emotion, flavoring everything with its bitterness. He dropped his head. A lump choked his throat and tears stung his eyes.

  “I’m here, Brett,” Laura whispered, rubbing his back.

  Embarrassed, he blinked back the tears. Would she always be here? Here in Crystal Falls or here for him? Because now he knew, more than ever, that he couldn’t stay.

  “Talk to me,” she pleaded.

  As he told the story, strong emotions compelled him to either laugh or cry. He refused to cry. Somehow the absurdity of it all was comic relief. He relived shooting the hose into Wayne’s face and broke into a grin.

  She gasped in horror. But he couldn’t keep a straight face. He let out a chuckle, and her eyes danced. Exactly what he needed, laughter did his soul a world of good. But it hurt his face even more than smiling did.

  Wincing, he admitted, “Guess I showed him, but now I’ve got no place to live!”

  “Move in here.” She pointed to her grandmother’s cottage. “I’m serious. My parents are renting it out.”

  “I don’t know.” What a wonderful, crazy idea. He looked back at the little house. “Maybe.” Then it hit him, and his skin crawled. “But your grandma just died and all.”

  “I know. It makes me sad every time I go in there.”

  Did he want her sad every time she visited? Then again, she could stop by pretty often if he lived next door. “I could always cheer you up,” he offered.

  “Yeah, you could.” She shook her head at him. “Mama and I were crying our eyes out until you came over. I never dreamed I’d crack a smile today.”

  “Me, either, as of half an hour ago.”

  Her eyes turned violet. Those eyes were his undoing. His stomach fluttered and he raised a hand to her cheek. When their lips touched, his every emotion was calmed by love.

  “Say you’ll take it,” she whispered against his mouth.

  “Living next door to you,” he breathed. “It’s downright irresistible.”

  She kissed him again, and his heart soared. The black eye might just be worth it. He’d get away fro
m his father, pay rent for a place of his own, and have visits like this with the girl next door.

  Hours later, after helping clean out the house and sending Daisy the cat home with Laura, Brett called home.

  His mother answered with a whisper.

  “Mama, are you okay?”

  “Brett! Where are you?”

  “At Laura’s. Is everything okay?”

  She sighed. “Your father drowned his fury in Budweiser. He was passed out in the recliner when I got home.”

  “Good. Tomorrow he’ll sleep until noon. He’ll be hung over and won’t have the energy to fight.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m gonna crash here tonight. But don’t freak, I’m at her grandmother’s house. I’ll be home in the morning to get my things. Dad kicked me out.”

  “Oh, Brett, I heard. What are you going to do?”

  He could picture her wringing her hands.

  “It’s all settled. Laura’s parents are renting out this place. I’m the new tenant.”

  Relief flooded her sigh. “God works in mysterious ways, doesn’t he?”

  But Brett realized a stark reality. How would he prove he could take care of Laura, when she was taking care of him?

  ****

  That week, Brett worked under a sweltering August sun. He and Chad pushed to finish the house so they could move on to the air-conditioned jobsite. Brett not only looked forward to relief from the oppressive heat, he hoped Max Carter would know of a job in the racing business. Counting down the exhausting days, Brett spent his evenings helping John repair the cottage. Grandma James had let things go since her husband died, and John apologized for not noticing earlier. They replaced missing shingles on the roof, sagging gutters on the eaves, and a leaky faucet behind the spiky purple flowers by the door. No wonder that stuff grew like gangbusters.

  Then Laura and Emily helped them give the inside a fresh coat of paint and John had new carpeting installed. Tired and sore from the week of hard work, Brett slept late Sunday morning on the old sofa. He hadn’t been able to smuggle his bed into the Corvette, so a few personal effects and his clothes were all he had. He shifted beneath the hated blue blanket his mother had tucked into a box. The blanket galled him about as much as Jake Santos. Something odd was going on, and he’d waited long enough to ask Laura about it. He suspected Jake threatened her in some way, and he intended to put a stop to it. He’d do anything to protect her, and today he would find out how and why.