by Wendy Vella
“Where do you want me to stop?”
“Here is fine.”
He pulled up beside the grocery store, which had doubled in size since he’d last seen it.
“I’d like to say it was a pleasure, but that would be a lie,” she said, climbing out. “But I will say thanks—”
“Because your mom taught you how?” He couldn’t help throwing that at her.
She ignored him, slammed the door, and walked away. Dylan watched her long legs carry her down the street. He was surprised to feel regret. Dylan rarely regretted anything, but he had a feeling that meeting this woman under different circumstances would be a hell of a ride.
His eyes tracked left and right as he pulled back out onto the street. Plenty of leafy green trees had been planted, and a few bench seats were now in place. This Ryker Falls was unrecognizable from the one he’d left as an angry teenager.
“Sixteen years, bud, plenty has to have changed.”
Taking the right fork at the end of town, he headed down the hill, following the river, then took another right. The street was full of houses now, another change. When he’d been here his parents’ place had been one of only six, and it sat in pride of place at the end, big enough so anyone could see it, if they were looking, and be assured important people lived inside. That was his mother’s way of thinking. Mary Howard was all about appearances.
Driving slowly down the street, he raised his hand in response to the wave of an elderly man jogging. Winter would hit hard and fast soon, and outdoor activities would be done in thick, warm clothing. He remembered the cold; it got into your bones and didn’t leave till spring.
He wouldn’t know every person who lived here by name and reputation now either, as they had once known him.
Just the thought of the life he’d lived here choked him.
He sucked in a breath, exhaled loudly, then drove up the long drive and parked to one side. Looking at the large white weatherboard house, he wondered what waited for him inside. His dad wasn’t in there; he’d still be in hospital as the accident was only four days ago.
Gabled roof, and two floors; the bedrooms had been on the second. His mother had run a tidy house, and taught her kids to do the same. Well, he was tidy; he had no idea what his sisters were like. Deep blue trimmed the windows and the front door.
Getting out, Dylan stood in the circular driveway. He rotated on the heel of one boot, letting his eyes roam over the immaculately weeded beds and neatly pruned trees. He saw the Brant place, but only the top half, as the trees his mother had planted to screen out their neighbors were tall now. The Brants were never as diligent at garden maintenance as Mary Howard.
Making himself move, instead of jumping back into his car and speeding out of town, he walked up to the front door and knocked on the wood. It felt awkward, because this was his family home, but he did it anyway. Letting himself in might shock whoever was inside. He tensed as footsteps approached, and then it was opening.
His little sister stood there. Dylan had seen her precisely twice in sixteen years, and both times with his parents when they came to visit him. Ava was younger than him by nine years, which made her twenty-three, and a lot shorter. She had brown curly hair that sat just below her ears, and a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones. Her eyes were lighter than his, and she was light-years away from the pigtail-wearing little princess she’d been at seven. Willowy and delicate, she wore a soft mint-colored sweater and blue jeans. On her feet were flats. The frown between her brows suggested she had no clue who he was.
“Can I help you?”
Why her words shocked him he had no idea, because they were strangers, but they did.
“I’m Dylan, your brother.”
There was a flare of surprise in her eyes, and then it was gone.
“Hello.”
Her words were emotionless, which was pretty much how he usually operated so he couldn’t fault her there... but still, she was his sister.
“How are you, Ava?”
It was cold, and he was still outside on the doorstep, but she didn’t move aside to let him in.
“I’m good. I have to go.” She brushed by him and down the stairs.
“Ava!” Dylan called after her, wanting some kind of emotion, emotion he had absolutely no right to from her.
“Yes?” She stopped at the bottom step and looked back up at him.
“Maybe later we could catch up?” It was a stupid thing to say, because Howards weren’t people who interacted, or for that matter caught up. In fact, Howards weren’t close in any way, and he and this young woman were complete strangers even though they shared blood.
She studied him.
“Sixteen years is a lot of catching up, Dylan, so let’s leave things the way they are.”
He watched her walk away. The roar of a motorbike was followed by a large, gleaming machine rolling into the driveway. The rider glanced his way, but his visor was lowered so Dylan couldn’t see the man’s eyes. Ava put on the helmet she was handed, climbed on without a backward glance, and then she was gone.
“That went well.” Dylan ran a hand through his hair. But then what had he expected? She was right, sixteen years was too long to catch up, and he should have known better than to ask that.
“Dylan!”
“Hey, Mom.” She’d aged, which again was obvious, but he hadn’t considered it. Worry lines marred her perfectly made-up face, and there was more gray in her hair, but it was still styled the same. She’d shrunk too, which was weird. Mary Howard had always seemed a big woman. Guilt, thick and heavy, sat on his shoulders as he allowed his mother to lead him inside the house that he’d grown up in, but not once had it felt like a real home.
A woman sat at the table, and he saw it was the middle Howard sibling.
“Charlie?”
She turned, and he was faced with yet another sister he didn’t recognize. There were similarities to Ava’s but her hair was lighter and streaked with multiple colors, which Dylan guessed wasn’t natural. Perfectly made up, she had the only brown eyes of the Howard siblings, and they carried the same cool, emotionless look he and Ava wore. It seemed there was one thing the Howard siblings had in common.
“Charlotte,” she said, getting to her feet. She was dressed in black pants, a caramel sweater, and heeled boots. He searched for the girl he’d chased around this very house and used for tackling practice in their youth, but found no resemblance.
He accepted the peck on his check from her cool lips, then she returned to her seat and picked up her cell phone.
“Sit, Dylan, the oatmeal is made.”
“I already ate, but thanks, Mom.”
“Ava made it, it’s a ritual. Usually she and Zander do it together, but he had to work late.”
“Zander?” Dylan pulled out a chair across from his sister and sat. It was like he was in some weird parallel universe. As if they’d sat at this very table every day for the last sixteen years, with their mother making oatmeal and the whole family discussing stuff. When actually what they’d done was the exact opposite. He couldn’t get his head around the fact he was here.
The kitchen was the same, although maybe that lavender paint was different. He saw there was still no clutter on the benches, everything away in its place. Tidiness was a Mary Howard mantra.
“Ava’s boyfriend, he just picked her up. Nice young man,” she said, bustling about. She got out a place mat from in a drawer and placed it before him. “Intelligent, and I’ve told him to stop wasting his time being a mechanic.”
His mother always had plenty of opinions on how people should run their lives.
“I’ve eaten, Mom.” He tried to get that point across again.
“Growing boy, you need to eat more.”
She had no idea of his eating habits, or that he now loathed oatmeal, but he let it lie for now.
“How’s Dad?”
Charlie... or Charlotte, he reminded himself, answered that one after putting down her phone.
“What happened?”
“It was a particularly cold day,” his mother said. “He skidded on some ice and hit a tree.”
“He knows how to drive in these conditions; I can’t believe it’s that simple. Besides, it’s not even winter yet.”
Charlotte shrugged. “He said his brakes weren’t working, but Zander is employed at the garage and had the car towed in. He said they were fine.”
“He’s been busy with work... preoccupied.” Mary Howard placed a full bowl of oatmeal in front of Dylan, and his stomach revolted. He’d not touched oatmeal since he’d left Ryker, after having it every day for breakfast for close to sixteen years. He remembered that too; she never took no for an answer when in her mind it was yes.
“Now you eat this, every last mouthful. It’s good for you.”
Dylan looked at his sister, and saw a flash of something, a memory of their mother saying those exact words, but then it was gone and she was composed once more.
So he sat there at the kitchen table, in the room that held so many memories, and not all of them bad, and ate the oatmeal that he covered liberally in sugar and flooded in milk.
He remembered his father winking at him as his mom went at him for something. His sisters teasing him, so he’d do the same back and sometimes make them cry. He let his eyes stray to Charlie and his mother briefly. Why did he suddenly feel sad about the distance between them? He pushed aside his bowl.
Staying away from Ryker Falls was the life he’d chosen. The life Mary Howard had forced him into, and he’d never tried to change that.
Getting out of his chair, he placed his bowl in the sink and then made for the door.
“Where are you going?” his mother asked.
“I need to see Dad. I’ll be back later.”
“I’m making pot roast.”
“Okay.”
As Dylan walked out the door and down to his car he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had made him pot roast, and wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.
CHAPTER THREE
Piper stalked into Apple Sours, her cousin Joe’s bar. The day hadn’t improved since arriving home, and she needed a drink.
Going for a ride in her current mood probably hadn’t been the best move, but she’d hoped the fresh air would clear her head. Instead she’d been kicked in the thigh for her troubles by Jack’s new colt. Her cousin had picked her up off the ground, dusted her off, and told her she should have known better than to get that close to him when she’d been warned not to. She had known, but it hadn’t helped to have that pointed out, so she’d snarled something at him and left the stables without a ride.
“You bring that face in here and you’ll turn away business.”
“Ha.” Piper slid onto a stool and looked at the couple behind the bar.
Joe Trainer, big, once bad, and handsome. The eldest of the three Trainer boys. Now reformed, he’d been brought to his knees by the beautiful blonde at his side. Both had been harboring scars inflicted by family and were now healing. Their love, Piper had to admit, was a wonderful thing.
Bailey had entered the family with minimal disturbance, and Piper certainly hadn’t minded having another female for the protective Trainers to watch over.
“What’s up, sweet cheeks?” Joe brushed a hand down Bailey’s back as he passed her to reach Piper. He then did the same to her.
“Hit me.”
“With what?” Joe frowned.
“Bourbon, straight up.”
“You don’t drink bourbon. Last time you puked up on the seats of Jack’s pickup. Really pissed him off too, because it took ages to get the stench out.”
Piper let her eyes run over the spirits behind him.
“Rum, then.”
Joe shook his head and leaned closer. “You hate rum. Remember that time when you were eighteen—”
“Jesus, Joe. Those guys in the movies don’t get this much grief when they walk into a bar and order a shot straight up,” Piper fumed. “Give me my moment here!”
Bailey placed a glass of white wine in front of her silently, then leaned in to kiss her cheek. Piper sighed, picked it up, and sipped. The cool, crisp flavor felt good sliding down her throat.
“Talk,” Joe said as he started polishing a glass.
“Please,” Bailey added, getting a soda and joining Piper.
“I don’t pay you to sit,” Joe said, winking at his wife. She smiled back, then blushed a little.
“I hope that shit passes soon, it’s downright unsettling,” Piper said, when what she really wanted to do was sigh again. She loved watching these two together even if she felt a small pang of jealousy that it wasn’t her all loved up.
Joe smiled, then leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Come on, Pip, spill.”
“Where’s Buzz?”
“He’s out back gnawing on a bone. I told him he can come inside when he’s done.”
Buzz was his dog and the town’s favorite son.
“I went to visit Joanie.”
Joe lowered the glass to the bar with a snap.
“You told me you were heading into Rummer to get supplies, do a bit of shopping, and take a break.”
“I did that too.”
“Jack, Luke, and I said you were not to go see Joanie without one of us, in case that scumbag ex is still hanging around.”
“She called me and sounded sad, and as I was going to Rummer anyway, I called in.”
“Jesus, and you never told us. Christ, Pip.”
“She’s a big girl, Joe, and a smart one. Piper would never put herself into a situation she wasn’t comfortable in,” Bailey said, always the peacemaker among the fiery Trainers.
Joe wanted to argue, but Bailey reached across to touch his hand, and he shut his mouth.
“Grace is so cute,” Piper said, shooting Bailey a smile. “She’s twelve months now, and really happy and healthy. Joanie has been clean since she had her.”
“But?” Joe said.
“But she’s not well. Thin, pale, and her appetite is nonexistent. I’m worried about her because she’s all Grace has.”
“There’s no other family?” Bailey asked.
“None. Her family were never much, and her mom abandoned her, so she’s been alone since. We went to school together for three years, and I’m the only friend she has.” Piper looked at her big cousin. “She made me Grace’s guardian should anything happen to her, and I agreed, Joe. I had to. Joanie’s made it official, because she knows Grace wouldn’t be happy with her father.”
“Christ.”
“I know, it’s scary, and I’m worried about Joanie like I said. But I had to do it, Joe. I had to for Grace.”
“Bring them here again,” Joe said. And to him it was that easy. Her big strong cousin, who took action and had turned his life around. He would simply welcome Joanie and Grace into the family if they chose to make a home in Ryker.
“I tried, she’s not interested.”
“Why, if she has no ties? She loved it here last time.”
Piper was silent.
“He’s still around? Or you think he is?”
Piper shrugged. Joanie had vowed her ex wasn’t still in the picture, but she had doubts.
“So this is why you’re pissed off, and why you let Jack’s new horse kick you in the thigh?”
“I didn’t let it, it’s just badly behaved,” Piper denied.
“Whatever, but let me reiterate. You will not visit Joanie again without one of us.”
“She’s my friend.”
“That piece of shit, her ex, is not. I’m not arguing about this again, Pip.”
His jaw told her that discussion was futile, so she decided to retreat... for now.
“Is your thigh okay?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, now, don’t piss me off any more,
because I need to look happy when I serve,” Joe said, straightening.
“Look at your wife, that’ll do it.”
“There is that.” He smiled at Bailey.
“Yuck,” Piper said obligingly as Bailey sighed again.
“You’re just jealous.” Joe winked at her, then walked away to serve a customer.
She was. Piper picked up her wine and sipped. Marriage, or even a committed relationship, had never factored into her life, but lately she’d been giving it some thought. Especially after seeing Grace. The little girl tugged on her heartstrings.
She watched Joe smile at someone. Turning to see if she knew who it was, Piper nearly spat out the mouthful of wine she’d just taken as the man she’d met earlier reached the bar. Of course she’d known there was a chance he may find his way to A.S. It was a popular place, and a favorite with tourists and locals. She’d just hoped that if he did, it wouldn’t be when she was there.
He was still dressed the same, and wore the same cool expression.
His eyes tracked left and found her, and although his expression didn’t change, she was sure he was as happy as she was about the encounter.
“Yeah, well, it hasn’t brightened my day any seeing you either,” Piper said.
“Problem?” Joe looked from Piper to the man.
“No problem, he helped me today when my car broke down.”
“Your car broke down? Where?”
“Bas from the garage sent Zander to pick it up. I sorted it, Joe, so settle down.”
“Why didn’t you call me? I would have picked you up.”
“Because he arrived and did that.”
“He?” Joe raised a brow, looking from her to the man. “You drove back to Ryker with him and don’t even know his name?”
Piper was used to this kind of overprotectiveness, but sometimes it stung; now was one of those times. She was a big girl and could take care of herself.
“I’m an adult, Joe, I can even tie my shoelaces now. I called Maggs and told her what I was doing, and he showed me his business card, and even rang someone to verify he was who he said he was.”