Black Creek Burning (The Black Creek Series, Book 1)

by R. T. Wolfe

  She flicked the lights, just when her sister stormed around the corner. "All right, spill." Liz was as direct as she was selfless. "Why do I work in the same building as my baby sister and am only now hearing your windows were shot out again?" Liz set her hands on her hips as she blocked her way while peering over Brie's shoulder at the plywood.

  She could make excuses by taking Liz step-by-step through her hell of a day, but instead she let out a sigh and simply answered. "Sorry, I was just coming to find you, and they were not shot out. It was mostly rocks," she lied. "After several questions from the kids, they moved on to obsess about Christmas. Are we still on for tonight?" She changed the subject, walked around her sister and headed toward the school office for her last stop on her way out.

  Liz adjusted her heavy bag and took up stride with Brie's longer legs. "Of course we're on. It's tradition. I heard it was another rifle. And my students are too old to admit they're obsessed with Christmas."

  "I need to take a shower, then meet with Mrs. Melbourne before we go. Is eight too late? Will you owe Tim for having to put the kids to bed?"

  "Tim knows the drill. Detox time at Mikey's the last day of school before any break." Liz draped her free arm around Brie's shoulder. "And he knows his payment will be well worth it," she said with a sexy grin. "Are you sure you're okay?"

  "I am, thanks. I'll meet you there. I think I'll get a cab tonight."

  "I'll pick up you at eight and have Tim drop us off; we'll share a cab home," Liz said.

  Brie pulled open the door to the front office to let the secretary know she was leaving. Mrs. Seward was as big around as she was tall, and as scary as they came. She was also conscientious and made sure to keep everyone on their toes. Her walls were wallpapered with neatly displayed schedules and calendars.

  "Theme tests are due before you leave, Miss Chapman, Mrs. Brownley."

  Brie pulled out a small tin of cookies with a bow. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Seward."

  "Thank you, Miss Chapman. Theme tests are still due before you leave," she said as she stapled a phone message to a note card.

  She smiled at her favorite secretary. "You're welcome, and I turned them in yesterday."

  Liz flipped through the papers she had pulled from her office mail slot as she followed. She grinned and glanced up. "Don't look at me. I turned mine in last week."

  "You're getting a new student when we return from break, Miss Chapman, and Dr. Tyman wants you to call her. Something she forgot to mention in your meeting this afternoon." Mrs. Seward turned to peck furiously at her document.

  Liz's eyebrows went up at the mention of the assistant super.

  Blowing the hair from her face, Brie stopped and turned back to Mrs. Seward. "What is the spelling of their first name? Do they ride a bus or a car, and did you tell Dr. Tyman I would call her back today?"

  "Sylvester, spelled the regular way. Bus fifty-one, and I told her you were already gone for break." Winking, Mrs. Seward dipped the few files left on her desk neatly into drawers. "Enjoy your break, Brianna."

  * * *

  Four wide eyes looked out of a shiny black truck as they turned onto the gravel drive of their new home. The snow had to be a plus, Nathan decided. His nephews had played in snow when they visited their grandparents up here, but they'd never had it in their own backyard. He could tell Duncan, the older of the two, was wondering if people could actually live in the place. He'd tried telling them it would be an adventure. He said the three of them would be like pioneers.

  Snow crunched under his tires as the truck pulled to a stop. He looked over at the boys' cautious expressions. "Come on, men. We'll get her put together in no time. We're bachelors now." He laid a reassuring hand on Duncan's shoulder.

  "Do you think Goldie will like it here?" Duncan asked.

  He figured his nephew wasn't really asking about the bouncing yellow Lab in the backseat, although taking care of Goldie and his little brother were first priorities for Duncan, even if he was only eight. He thought about how much Duncan looked like his dad with his deep brown, wavy hair and serious sable brown eyes. Duncan's soft nose and chin were the only features he had inherited from his mother.

  "I think he already does. What do you think, Andy?" He glanced over at his younger nephew.

  Goldie, not quite two yet, yelped and jumped in the backseat. With his tongue hanging to one side, he pressed his wet nose against the window.

  "'Course he'll like it. Look at the creek and the lake," Andy defended. "He can fish and chase birds."

  Andy not only inherited his mother's looks, but her personality. Optimist. Adventurist. Like his brother, he had his father's wavy brown hair. But his eyes were light brown, soft and full of wonder.

  The extended cab, eight-foot-bed pickup was packed full. Bungee cords tied down mattresses, sleeping bags, suitcases, a card table with chairs and a cooler of food along with a handful of puzzles, Legos and Duncan's drawing supplies. It was enough to get them through until the first moving van came with more. The rest would be retrieved from storage as the house became ready.

  The boys climbed out and stretched from the last hours of driving like they'd just woken from a long nap. Nathan grabbed Andy, tossing him effortlessly onto his shoulders. With Andy's hands wrapped under his chin and his feet tucked around the sides of his back, he couldn't resist pulling out the new notebook he had ready in his back pocket and the pencil from behind his ear.

  He opened it to the first page and jotted down notes about the shutters. They would need to be discarded and completely rebuilt. The porch was littered with rotting boards that needed to be replaced. Some were still in good condition and just needed to be planed, stained and sealed. The railings, however, were going to be all new and all his, part of a giant wrap-around porch he envisioned. The wood siding needed to be scraped and painted. Some boards needed replacing there, too. He jotted down notes about finding a good painter and roofer. He wouldn't have time for that if he was going to finish the beauty by summer's end. The outside of the house would have to wait for better weather, he decided.

  "Dad, Goldie wants out. Let him out and let me down." Andy squirmed as he fumbled the notebook back into his pocket. "Can we go around back?"

  "I'll come with. Stay where I can see you." He let Andy down and took Duncan's hand. He noticed that Duncan held on a little tighter than usual.

  He opened the door of the packed truck for the jumping, barking dog. Taking a giant leap, the dog tried to run before his legs hit the ground. Stumbling and rolling twice before regaining his footing, he took off around the side of the house. They followed through the deep snow as they zipped coats and pulled on gloves that were too thin for staying out very long. Snow already began dipping into their shoes, but they didn't seem to care.

  A floodplain encompassed the creek, twenty-five yards on each side and seemed to flow downward toward the house, away from its adjoining lake. Between the small lake and creek was a spillway built with a concrete wall and watermelon-sized rocks. Hundreds of rocks that looked like they were keeping the lake water from running like a river. Houses lined around, and the floodplains boasted fields on both sides, butting up to generous backyards. Several of the yards around the lake ended abruptly with snow-covered docks over the frozen water.

  Patches of tall grasses and frosty cattails lined the creek. He learned it was named Black Creek due to the dark mud lining the bottom. The lake looked frozen, but near the spillway crystal water slipped stealthily under the ice, trickled down the rocks and flowed through the dark creek bed. The frigid water ran around snow-piled patches of grasses and rocks, making them look like huge marshmallows floating in black coffee.

  As they made it to the back yard, one corner of his mouth curved up as Duncan finally dropped his hand. The boys ran, squealing as they slid down the slope that led to the field. Goldie ran circles around them and rolled in the white. He noted the weeds poking out through the yard and added a landscaper to his list of people to hire. This was a far cry
from the tight rows of yards in the South Carolina neighborhood they'd moved from. He would need more than a little flower box this time around.

  While he watched the boys, movement from across the creek caught his eye. A woman with a light blue coat and brown hair pouring out from under a matching hat was running full speed around the side of a traditional Victorian home. He tilted his head as he watched the cape of hair that flew behind her and stopped at the middle of her back. It wasn't until he noticed the charging, growling dog at her heels that he found himself running.

  Chapter 3

  The dog leapt at the woman, trying to get at her back. Nathan was nearly to the edge of the floodplain when the sound of laughter made him skid to a stop.

  The woman rolled in the snow with the dog in apparent delight. He watched as she grabbed it by its cheeks, nuzzling their foreheads together. Jumping to their feet, they both stood with wide stances. The woman leaned over with her hands on her thighs. The dog seemed to mimic the position with its front legs flat on the ground and head down.

  He couldn't help but stare at the playful standoff. At seemingly the same time, they broke their freeze, took off around the side of the house and disappeared as quickly as they'd appeared.

  "Is it okay to go in, Nathan?" Duncan tucked his arms inside his coat. "I think Andy's cold."

  "Am-m-m n-not!"

  "Of course. The bank promised they would have at least arranged for running water and all the parts of the bathrooms in working order if we just agreed to take it off their hands. Pioneers, remember?"

  Andy rolled his eyes and followed him with Duncan around to the front of the house.

  * * *

  He worked on scrubbing the floor of the enormous master bedroom. Nathan decided after he finished with the master bath, he was definitely hiring someone to clean the rest of the house. They would camp in here for now. He had plans for a small walk-out balcony in the back with French doors, where he could sit and watch the boys play.

  Quarter-sawn oak would be a perfect match to the furniture that waited patiently in storage. In his mind, he could see the three-panel doors, the base and window trim. He planned on small, protruding corbels to mark the corners of the doors and windows. Beams would intersect each other along the ceiling, and a few shelves inlaid into the walls would showcase antique pottery. He took down the dimensions for each and moved to the master bath, where he measured for tile and decided on a separate shower and tub.

  "Anyone home?"

  At the sound of the visitor, Goldie howled and rolled over in his scramble for the door. Downstairs working on puzzles, Duncan and Andy howled, too. Two boys and a dog ran to her, all three of them nearly knocking her over.

  "Be careful with her, boys. She's not nineteen anymore." He felt a sense of calm blanket him as he yelled down the stairs and headed for his mother.

  Mackenzie Reed wrapped a tiny, but strong arm around each boy. She was barely more than five feet tall, with brown hair the color of her grandchildren's, showing streaks of gray. Her eyes, however, were a sky blue color that matched Nathan's. She was in her early fifties and looked more like her early forties.

  "I'll have you know your father and I just returned from a long weekend in a tree house hotel. You are as old as you think you are, and I think I'll be nineteen for today." She gave each boy a noisy kiss on the top of their heads. "How are my favorite grandkids?"

  "We're your only grandkids, Grandma." Duncan smiled, keeping his eyes closed with both arms wrapped around her narrow waist.

  As Nathan reached her, he kissed her cheek. "Oregon was it?" he asked as he absently turned to lead Goldie out the front door and hooked him to the leash on the porch.

  His mother walked with the boys to the grubby dining room. "Yes, Oregon. When are you going to let us take these boys out for a trip? Just a short one. Maybe Niagara Falls."

  She pulled out a washcloth from a plastic baggie and started wiping down the card table and chairs the two boys and he were using as their kitchen table.

  Nathan rummaged through the picnic basket his mother had set on the floor. "We just got here, Ma." He turned and wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "It's good to be back. We need you. I need you."

  * * *

  In the mudroom off the garage, she knocked snow from her boots, then hung up her coat. Shaking the snow from her hair, Brie thought of the family that, from the look of the overflowing truck bed, must be moving into the old farmhouse. She wondered why anyone would buy that place, let alone a family, dog and all. Was the dad really planning to fly through the icy creek to save her from her ferocious dog? She laughed as she looked at Macey. The adolescent retriever was curled up on her oval braided rug, biting tiny snowballs from between her toes. She rubbed her dog's ears and mussed her light-brown head.

  "Come on, girl. Let's get us something to eat."

  She stopped in the doorway of the mudroom and looked out to the open layout of the home she'd grown up in. Large archways separated most of the rooms with the exception of the library and formal sitting room. The hardwood and ceramic floors had the same flat finish they always had. The only change she'd made was carpet in the family room.

  The quiet was deafening.

  For her, this home still meant two noisy older brothers, a squealing sister and parents that were either scolding them or laughing with them—sometimes both within the same breath. Being already married with their own homes, her siblings inherited trust funds and bonds. She inherited the house.

  Her salary was small, even with the growing landscaping business she maintained on the side. She probably should have saved some of the insurance money from the fire to help her with the upkeep of such a large home and help pay the taxes. But she had a need to restore the house to its original state, right down to the oval braided rug Macey lazily stood up from.

  Rolling her shoulders, she grabbed an apple and headed for the bag of dog food, and then a shower.

  * * *

  Her hair was still damp when Brie signaled for Macey to stay on the concrete porch as she knocked on her next-door neighbor's door.

  Mrs. Melbourne peeked through the beveled glass. "Who is it?" Her quick, gruff voice was a stark contrast to her elegant appearance. She was a slender woman with silver hair curling just above her shoulders.

  Without giving Brie time to answer, she opened the door. The house was femininely decorated with floral printed wallpaper and large rugs covering hardwood floors. It smelled of lavender potpourri. "Well come in if you have to, Brianna. I was just about to see Ethel out. Go on to the kitchen. I've been baking." She handed a check to her housekeeper. "Did you dust the baseboards, Ethel? I can't stand dust on the baseboards."

  Ethel was in her late forties with deep lines around her eyes. She had salt and pepper hair that didn't move an inch from its bun as she shook her head. "I do the baseboards on Tuesdays, Lucy. You're just mad because I won in Canasta." Her voice was easy and southern-touched. "This here is Friday. Do I need to get out the contract again?"

  Ethel let out a huff as her plump behind followed her to the door. "If you want to add a third day, you just let me know. I left fresh coffee in the pot and your favorite cups and saucers on the counter. Good night, Lucy, and good luck, Brie. She's in an especially grand mood today."

  "A third day? Do I look like a rich old widow? I can hardly afford two days for what she charges."

  The kitchen was scattered with vases of artificial flowers, decorative canisters and crystal bowls. Without waiting for her consent, Lucy poured two cups of coffee. She'd known Lucy all her life.

  "Oh, Mother. You could afford to have Ethel here every day of the week," Lucy's daughter walked in the front door as Ethel left. "In fact, you could afford to hire Ethel to live here if you weren't so stingy." Walking into the kitchen on four-inch designer heels, the tall, thin blonde made her way directly to her. "I'm thankful you put up with her, Brie," she said and kissed Brie on each cheek.

 
; "Ethel made coffee, MollyAnne. I'll pour since my help left at such an inconvenient time. I know you like yours black, Brianna." Lucy handed Brie a cup and saucer.

  "I brought cookies." Brie pulled up a stool next to her.

  "Are they the kind with those Christmas sprinkles you always bring over when you're trying to soften me up before telling me you're going to have that loud party until all hours of the night again?" Her eyebrows lifted high as she peered inside the cookie tin and took out one on top.

  Molly let out an overtly loud sigh and turned to her mother. "With as soundly as you sleep, you wouldn't even know there was a get-together if she didn't come over here to tell you beforehand. Don't pay attention to her, Brie. She has no appreciation for tradition. I think it's wonderful you continue to invite your parents' friends and the neighborhood over for a very tasteful celebration of the coming New Year. I know I wouldn't miss it. I'm bringing a date." Molly winked as her mother straightened up.

  "Of course, I'm the last one to know. Ungrateful child." Lucy slowly lifted her chin. "Is it the Logan I so detest?"

  "No, Mother. This one's name is Roger. Roger Swindley. I met him on my last buying trip."

  "I don't know how you call shopping a job, and for fancy clothes even." Lucy closed her eyes a little longer than a blink as she took a bite of the cookie. "In my day, shopping was something you did to take care of your home and your children. It looks like I'm not getting any grandchildren out of you anytime soon. Brianna, when are you going to marry that firefighter and pass on those genius genes of yours to some babies of your own?"

  She shifted in her chair. "They're not exactly genius genes. I'm just good at taking tests and—"

  "I wouldn't call testing out of high school in two years," Molly interrupted, "and a full-ride to med school just any tests, Brie dear. No one thinks badly of you for turning down your career in medicine." Molly smiled at her as she added another scoop of sugar to her cup.