by Wendy Vella
He looked about as approachable as his daughter and in the daylight he saw the resemblance was even stronger than he’d originally thought. On Branna, those looks combined to make her the knockout she was; on him, they made up a man with sharp edges to his face and cold eyes beneath lowered brows.
“Declan is my name.”
“I know.”
“And you hate me because I hurt Branna.”
“About sums it up.”
“Hear him out, son.”
One thing Patrick McBride had always been good at, was judging people, but Jake wasn’t inclined to agree in this situation.
“Branna told me you shut her out of your life after your wife was killed. Is she lying?”
Declan closed his eyes briefly, like his daughter did when she was gripped by emotion; Jake didn’t like seeing the similarity. He didn’t want to feel a damned thing for this man…ever.
“I should have this conversation with my daughter, not you.”
“You could, but then I’d have to tell you where to find her, and I’m not inclined to do that yet, especially as she asked me to make you go away.”
The man flinched and the hand that reached for his coffee shook.
“I thought she’d speak to me, thought she’d at least do that.”
Jake understood the power of silence, so he said nothing and waited; his father took his lead and did the same.
The room they sat in was on the second floor and looked out over the yard of the Munro family next door. Oscar had been his age and they’d been able to shoot arrows from his toy bow, right from that yard into this room. Jake remembered his mother shrieking at him when one had landed in the fish tank. His parents’ house was home and always would be, no matter where he settled. He loved the wood paneling and the chart that marked his and Katie’s growth. Occasionally, there was another name, usually one of his ten cousins that were scattered around the U.S. and had come to visit. But the real heart of this place, the reason it felt as it did, were the two people that lived in it. He couldn’t imagine growing up without them, or having their love ripped away like Branna had when the man before him had turned his back on her.
“When Rose died, the devastation of losing her stole my will to live. We’d been together since she was thirteen; she was, quite simply, my life. I didn’t know how to cope. I kept seeing her lying there, hearing her screams, and I couldn’t help her.” The words were spoken in his soft Irish burr, and the sadness was evident in each one.
“Did you know that Branna blames herself? That, and I quote, ‘My behavior killed my mother and drove my father and I apart.’”
“No! I never wanted her to believe that.”
It was the truth. Jake could see it on his face. The man was shocked.
“She also said that you didn’t love her enough to forgive her for killing the only woman you’d ever love.”
“Dear God!” Declan started shaking, his hands gripping the cup before him and he looked nothing like the man Jake had seen in those interviews he’d found on the internet.
“I-I never knew she felt like that. I-I just thought…Christ, I don’t know what I thought. When Rose died, I turned in on myself for a while. I tried to be there for Branna, tried to give her the support she needed while she grieved, but I was so devastated I didn’t know how to comfort her and when I did try she’d push me away, saying she was all right. I believed her, so I didn’t try harder. We existed for two years, going through the motions. Me providing food and shelter, working in the same school she was at. Then I was advised to take a break by my colleagues…they said that I was stressed and soon something would give. I spoke with a psychiatrist, who told me to move somewhere quiet, out of the city and into a smaller town, so I saw the ad for a position at the local high school here and took it, hoping the change of pace would help us both.”
“Branna seemed okay, she was young, elevated two years due to her intelligence, but she was coping, so her teachers said. So, life just passed us by, until she graduated and came to me the next day and told me she was leaving for Washington, that she’d been offered a place at WSU. I was stunned, hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t even known she was thinking of teaching. I tried to talk to her, tell her I’d relocate with her, but she said there was no need, she had a dorm placement and everything was settled. I asked about money, I’d give her some, but she said she had been given a scholarship and would work for the rest.
Jake could see her saying these things. That cold controlled face she sometimes used on him, explaining things precisely with no emotion.
“I hadn’t known what she was doing. Not once, did she ask my advice or tell me what she had planned; she just did it. She even forged my signature on some papers she needed signed.”
“She said you tried to stay in touch with her a few times, but the last time you had a fight and she hasn’t seen you since,” Jake said.
Declan ran a hand through his hair, sending the thick waves in every direction.
“For what it’s worth, I’ve always known where she was. In the beginning, I made sure she was settled, then made friends online with a few of the lecturers and they keep me up to date with what was happening with her. I then returned to Ireland and started writing, which luckily became a successful career for me.”
He was modest like his daughter too.
“When I’d earned enough money, I hired someone to keep a watch over her for me, because she’d let me know quite clearly that she wanted no further contact with me. I was to be told if she was in danger, or needed anything. Then one day, I decided enough was enough; I wanted my daughter back in my life, and so I went to the University and met with her, but it did not go the way I had planned.
“Too much water under the bridge?” Jake asked.
“We both have tempers, I’m afraid, and they were unleashed that day. Suddenly, all the pent up emotion and despair came out and we hurled vicious hateful words at each other. We’re both wordsmiths, so there was no lack of resourcefulness, and when it was over, we both walked away broken and bleeding.”
“Why are you here now, Mr. O’Donnell?”
“I love my daughter, Jake, and I’m sick of living without her. I’ll stay for as long as it takes to get her to talk to me, and then I’ll take it from there.”
“So, if you’ve had her followed, you know what her career is now?”
“I do, and she’s an outstanding writer; better than I could ever hope to be.”
He was proud of her…the pride a parent showed in a child; in Declan O’Donnell’s case, however, it may be too late.
“I have no idea if she’ll speak to you, Mr. O’Donnell. Furthermore, if she does and you hurt her, then you’ll be leaving this time for good,” Jake added.
“I understand that.”
“I will talk to her, but I’m not pushing her; the ultimate decision is Branna’s.”
“They’re bound to run into each other, Jake. Howling is a small town,” Patrick McBride said.
“I guess so, and Branna will have to deal with that if it arises.” But he wouldn’t let this man hurt her again; he didn’t care if he was her father. Jake didn’t want her hurting anymore. As far as he was concerned, she’d already suffered more in her life than she should have.
After leaving his house, he went home and worked on a few cars, which was hell, because every time he looked at the bench where they’d made love this morning Jake went hard, so he had to avoid that area.
He heard Ethan’s big bird overhead a few hours later, the loud whop, whop, whop of the Rota blades echoing around the barn. Minutes later, the Texan strolled in.
“You wanna throw a ball around down at the park? The domestic goddess heard me land and sent a text. Seems he wants to test his arm against the champ.”
“Who just happens to be me,” Jake said, starting to put his tools away. He could do with some physical exercise about now. Then he’d go talk with Branna, and hopefully she’d be rational when he brought up her fat
her, but he didn’t hold out much hope.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Branna worked on the book and tried to push thoughts of her father aside. She wanted him gone, wanted him out of Howling, so she never saw his face again. The shock of him suddenly appearing before her had not lessened in the day since it had happened. Their last conversation in Washington had been fueled by suppressed emotions and rage, and she’d told him then she never wanted to see him again.
Memories of how she’d spent the morning with Jake also filled her head…naked and seated on his workbench while he kissed every inch of her body. There was nothing comfortable about what was happening between them, but she didn’t want to change that, she wanted to embrace it.
An email popped into her inbox; the sender was Macy Reynolds-Delray. It was short and detailed, explaining exactly what she wanted Branna to do. None of it was overly difficult, but would take a bit of her time, but she would do it because she’d seen Macy hurting that day, and if there was one thing she understood it was pain.
“Hello!”
Getting out of her office chair, Branna made her way to the front door to see who had called out, and found Elizabeth Heath there. Just like the first day Branna had arrived in Howling, Mrs. Heath was dressed immaculately, although today’s cap was green.
“Here is the paperwork, dear, read it through and the meeting is at my house on Thursday this week. All the details are in there for you, so go over them thoroughly and any questions just contact me, my number is in there too.”
“This is for the Book Club?” Branna took the large envelope.
“Yes, we have a nomination process for members. Another cannot enter unless a member dies or moves from Howling. When you come to your first meeting, you bring a sealed envelope with the name of your successor in it; it’s placed in a locked box with the others.”
Was this woman serious, a locked box? Forms to read through and fill out, and all for a book club? Branna had never belonged to one, it had to be noted, but she was certain all that was required was a book and maybe a plate of food.
“I’m not sure I’ll have the time to join your club, Mrs. Heath.”
“It was Georgie’s wish, Branna and while there are some who are displeased about the prospect of someone so young joining, others are excited about it. I think it important also for you to understand just how many people want to join this club, dear. It’s a highly sought after group; however, the laws about membership are governed strictly and have been in place from the first meeting by our forbearers many, many years ago.”
“I’ve never attended a book club before.” She had to try and get the woman to see reason, yet Branna knew even as the words left her mouth, she was going to fail.
“All you need to know is in there.” Elizabeth Heath flicked her wrist in a surprisingly elegant gesture towards the envelope. “And, of course, Georgie always brought her Peach and Cornmeal Upside down cake and as I’m sure she left the recipe here, you’ll be able to carry on the tradition.”
“I—”
“Can’t stop, dear; we’re hiking in thirty minutes,” Elizabeth Heath stated, turning from Branna and stepping off her porch to stride back to her shiny silver sedan.
“Do you hike, Branna?” The woman opened her car door then turned to look at her.
“I’m sorry, no, I don’t.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to apologize, but she did all the same.
“That can be remedied,” Elizabeth Heath said, and then she was gone, her shiny car disappearing down Branna’s drive.
“What the hell just happened?” Branna said the words to Cat, who was weaving through her legs. Mrs. Heath had said the answers were in the envelope, so she made coffee and took it back to her office. Opening it, she found some papers and a book. “You’re kidding me.” Whistling between her teeth, Branna read the title. It was gritty, raunchy, and several other words that evaded her right now. The Howling Book Club was reading this?
She’d imagined lots of literary books and poetry, not this. Placing it to one side, she looked at the papers. Headed on top of each were the words, “Please do not share these details with anyone,” written in capitals. Intrigued, Branna read the first page, which was just a form that needed her personal details. Then there was a hobbies sheet, which made her smile, as she had no real hobbies besides writing, which was her job. The third and last was a schedule, which included the homes the meetings would take place in, she noted it was every three weeks, and hers was there in blue, in a month’s time.
She heard another email arrive and saw it was Macy again. Deciding that no one knew Howling better than the homecoming queen, on an impulse, Branna told her about the visit from Elizabeth Heath and asked her about the Book Club. Macy replied instantly, starting with, “OMG, do you know how many woman in Howling have been dying to get into that club? It’s been an institution here for years, and no one knows who is going to be called up next, just as no one knows what goes on at the meetings. There has been speculation about who would be Georgie’s successor; now we know.”
“So, from that email, I would say that I’m honored and that in no way can I refuse?” Branna typed back.
“Hell no! You’d be run out of town. In saying that, there are sure to be a few angry women about when they find out you’ve taken the spot, but I’m sure you can handle it; you do that don’t mess with me face well.”
Branna smiled at the screen. This was a side to Macy she had never seen before…the funny, smart woman.
“Me? I’m a pussycat. Sweetest person ever.”
What came back was a line of hahaha.
“How’s the writing going?” was the next question.
“How do you know I’m a writer?” Branna replied, to which Macy added.
“Town grapevine.”
Weirdly, she felt comfortable talking to Macy about one of her characters she was struggling to fit into the role Branna had mapped out for her. It was strange how the woman she had hated at school was so different to talk to by email. She even had some insightful comments about how the woman should react when a man threatened her. After she had said thanks to Macy for her advice and goodbye, Branna put on her headphones, and minutes later was deep into the book, and didn’t come out for quite some time.
Looking at her cell, she noticed a text from Jake that simply said. Come to the park down beside the lake. Noting the time, she saw that she’d been writing for three hours, so she took off her headphones and shut her computer down after backing everything up. Changing into her running shorts and singlet, Branna then pulled on her shoes. She needed the exercise, needed to clear her head, and if she was running around the lake she wouldn’t run into her father or hopefully think about him.
Where was he? Had he left town, or was he still staying with the McBride family?
Shaking the thought aside, Branna headed out the front door and stopped as she saw the pool of blood beneath the cat’s tail that was nailed to the roof of the porch. Her scream was heard by no one. Fumbling for her cell, she rang Jake.
“It’s Cat; you need to c-come quick.”
He ran up her drive minutes later, his body tense, eyes alert.
“They killed Cat.” She edged around the blood and leaped off the step and into his arms. They closed around her, and she felt the thud of his heart. He must have sprinted here. “I-it’s not fair.” Branna gripped the front of his T-shirt and held it tight while she burrowed her head into his chest. He held her, stroking her hair and she soaked up his strength until she regained control of herself again.
The sound of a car made her lift her head, and then she saw Jake’s pickup arrive loaded with men. It stopped, and out jumped Ethan, Newman, and Buster. All were sweaty like Jake, and each looked serious.
“What the fuck?” Buster stomped up to the tail and glared at it. “This shit has to stop!”
“Go see if you can find Cat; I don’t think it’s him,” Jake said, gripping her shoulders as he eased her from his arms. “Look a
t that tail, Branna, Cat has white circles in the ginger; that tail is lighter, and the stripes less distinguishable.”
She turned, and Jake stepped up behind her, caging her inside his strength. Looking at the tail, she studied it. Was he right?
“I need to go look for him now, just to be sure.” She stepped away from Jake, and Ethan kept pace with her as she ran around the house to where Cat sometimes slept in the sun. The relief at seeing him made her drop to her knees and pick him up.
“He’s okay; it wasn’t him.”
“He may be okay, but he’s now seriously pissed you woke him up, honey.”
Branna laughed with relief at Ethan’s words. Putting Cat back in his place, she regained her feet.
“I don’t even like cats.”
Ethan rubbed her back, but didn’t reply, instead urging her back around the front to where Jake and Buster were examining the blood.
“Red food coloring and tomato sauce.” Buster held his pinky finger up to examine the red on the end of it. “Not blood, Branna.”
“Why is someone trying to scare me?” Now she wasn’t shaking and scared, she was angry.
“That I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell going to find out.” Jake’s words were a growl as he pulled out his phone. “Cubby, you need to get to Branna’s place now.” Pocketing it again, he said. “Get me the keys, Rosebud. Buster and I will take a quick look around the shed, just to make sure nothing else is off. You take the Texan inside with you; he can look around in there, and then he’ll need feeding.
Branna looked at Ethan, who shrugged.
“He’s right, I am hungry.”
Jake was so angry he could spit fire. Someone was trying to frighten Branna and doing a good job.
“What the hell’s going on, Jake? This is Howling, not downtown L.A.; this kind of crap doesn’t happen here,” Buster said.
Opening the shed, Jake entered with his friend on his heels. “It’s got to have something to do with this place, Buster, because she wasn’t here long enough to make enemies, and it’s unlikely someone this nasty would have held a grudge for ten years.”