“Um, hi, I…I need some help,” I stammered when the man didn’t say anything. A shiver snaked up my spine as he stared at me. It reminded me of the way the wolf had stared at me.
“I found this baby raccoon on the road,” I murmured as I forced myself to take a few steps forward, though part of me still wanted to run the other way. Why the hell did it feel like the wolf was the less dangerous of the pair?
The man began moving when I said raccoon, and I froze in place as he approached me.
Yep, he was definitely a big guy. But I knew what was under the coveralls wasn’t a portly figure. Don’t ask me how I knew, I just did. I still couldn’t see the guy’s face because of the cap. I managed to stay still as he neared me and he lifted his big hands toward me. Logically, I knew he was just reaching for the raccoon, but I was still on edge so I automatically stepped back. I looked up just in time to see the man lift his gaze to mine and I saw his jaw harden.
There was something familiar about him and I desperately wanted to push the cap off his head so I could really see his face. But the sensation of the man’s fingers grazing mine distracted me.
A lot of shit happened all at once in that moment as the man took the raccoon from me.
His touch sent a shock of electricity through me that had air whooshing out of my lungs.
Heat seeped into my skin where his fingers touched mine.
And he hesitated right in the middle of taking the small animal from me and lifted his head enough so I could finally take him in.
“Dallas,” I breathed in disbelief as recognition hit me hard and fast as soon as I saw his eyes. Deep, dark, gray-blue eyes that reminded me of the waters of San Francisco Bay on a rare, stormy day.
He flinched as his gaze held mine for the briefest of moments.
“You’re Dallas Kent,” I murmured as I released my hold on the raccoon. The man didn’t confirm or deny my statement. He didn’t do anything at all except cuddle the baby, which was still wrapped up in my jacket, to his chest.
And then he turned his back on me and walked away, a slight limp marring his gait.
He didn’t say a thing…not one single word.
Just like in fucking high school.
I watched as he walked into the building, the wolf silently following him. It occurred to me that I should go after him so I could make sure the baby raccoon was going to make it, but I found myself turning away instead.
And then I did what I’d done ten years ago when I’d left Pelican Bay to start my perfect new life, which had ended up being anything but.
I ran.
Chapter One
Nolan
This can’t be right.
I shook my head in disbelief as I stared at the numbers in front of me…the red numbers.
“This can’t be right,” I said out loud this time, to no one in particular. The din of the television blaring from the living room began to add to my headache, but I resisted the urge to get up and go turn it down again.
“Nrngh!”
I sighed at my father’s garbled shout and rose to my feet. Anticipating what he wanted, I went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer and the plastic container of macaroni salad my mother had prepared earlier in the day. I took both to the living room and walked around my father’s worn leather recliner, nearly tripping over the walker that was lying on the floor. I set the beer and the container on the table on the left side of the recliner so my father could reach it and then leaned down to pick up the walker.
My father let out a grunt and I looked up to see him look pointedly at the TV and then me. I moved out of the way and then dropped down onto the couch and studied the man I no longer recognized.
I’d been a surprise for my parents, who’d both been in their forties when I’d been conceived, and I’d often wondered if that fact had played any kind of role in the relationship I had with them. But there’d never been anyone to ask, since all my grandparents had been dead by then and there’d been no extended family around. I wasn’t sure, but I’d kind of figured both my parents had been content with their solitary existence, having just each other to rely on.
A reality I’d intruded upon.
It was a fact I’d eventually come to accept over the years, despite the fact that it meant facing a truth I’d been denying for so long.
Some people just weren’t meant to have kids.
I watched as my father’s gnarled hand reached out for the can of beer. He held it against his chest while he opened it one-handed, his other hand lying useless on the armrest. Though I knew it wasn’t actually useless, just weak. In that sense, my father had been lucky because the stroke had left him with weakened limbs and not full-on paralysis.
He struggled for a moment, but I didn’t dare take the can and open it for him since I’d made that mistake once already. I’d learned my lesson yesterday when he’d thrown the open beer across the room, which, because of his weakened state, hadn’t sailed more than a few feet from the recliner. He’d grunted what I could only assume had been curse words at me, and then he’d tried to chuck the remote at me while I’d been cleaning up the spilled beer. It too had fallen short, but while my father’s verbal skills were impaired, my mother’s most certainly weren’t, and I’d gotten an earful about the new stain on her carpet. The fact that he’d even cursed at me was proof of the stroke that had changed him in so many ways. My father was and always had been a gruff man, but he’d never taken the Lord’s name in vain or used any kind of off-color language.
My parents were throwbacks to that generation where the husband was the man of the house and the wife was the little woman whose sole purpose was to care for the home and the children. It was a role my mother had followed to the letter, though she’d apparently interpreted the care for the children part a bit differently than most. Somewhere along the way I’d become more like an extension of the house rather than a separate entity. My mother had always made sure I had neat, clean clothes and that I minded my manners, but things like hugs and emotional support had been a foreign concept to her.
And still were.
I stood and stepped away from my father before saying, “The physical therapist will be here in the morning.”
He growled deep in his throat but didn’t look at me. I didn’t bother mentioning that I’d managed to find him a speech therapist too, but that we’d have to go to her for the appointments. I’d let my mother break that one to him since even in his altered state, he tended to give in to her requests.
I returned to the kitchen and dropped down into the chair. I pulled up my bank account information and scanned the numbers, hoping like hell I’d somehow gotten a couple of numbers switched around last time I’d checked the balance and there’d magically be more money in the account today than there had been yesterday.
Or that Trey had grown a conscience and put back even a fraction of the money he’d taken from me.
But there most definitely hadn’t been an increase in the balance. Nope, it was down by several hundred dollars since I’d had to pay for Dad’s walker. I shifted back to the spreadsheet and shook my head.
It wouldn’t even be enough.
I felt tears sting my eyes as the reality of my situation crashed down on me. When the side door abruptly opened, I quickly wiped at my face to make sure a tear hadn’t managed to escape unnoticed.
My mother shuffled in with a grocery bag slung over her arm. She cast me a brief glance as she settled the bag on the counter and then went to put her purse on a side table.
Everything in its place.
“There are more bags in my trunk,” she said as she reached up to straighten the little pillbox hat on her head. I would never understand her need to be dressed in her Sunday finest every day of the week.
“Mom,” I said as I leaned forward and settled my hand on the stack of bills I’d been sorting through all morning. “We need to talk about this.”
“Groceries, Nolan,” she commanded, her voice stern and unwavering. �
��I’m making a roast for your father tonight. Don’t want it to spoil.”
Frustration consumed me as I studied her. I wanted to tell her the goddamn groceries could wait the few minutes it took for my entire future to go up in flames, but I quelled the instinct and climbed to my feet. She was heading to the living room, and just before I reached the door, I heard her greet my father brightly and tell him she was making his favorite dinner tonight. I went to the car and got the bags and returned to the house. My mind was racing with any possible alternatives I could come up with to deal with the situation at hand, but there was nothing.
Not one goddamned thing.
As my mother puttered around the kitchen, unloading the groceries and getting the ever-so-important perfect roast going, I stared at the computer and willed the numbers to change…anything to make them smaller. It was a good twenty minutes before she put the roast in the oven and had wiped down all the counters. It was only after she removed her apron and hung it on the hook next to the refrigerator that she turned her attention to me. “Now, what is it?” she asked. “I’ve promised Edith I’d help her get ready for the church bake sale this weekend. I’ll need you to watch your father tonight.”
“Did you know you’re behind on the mortgage by four months?” I asked. “The credit cards and home equity loan, too?”
My mother sighed and eased herself into the chair on the other side of the table. She waved her hand impatiently. “Your father handles all that. If that’s true, I’m sure there’s a reason for it.”
“I can’t really ask him what that reason is, can I?” I asked.
“You watch your tone with me, young man,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “It may be okay to speak to your elders that way in Hollywood-”
“You’re going to lose the house,” I cut in, my frustration getting the better of me. I lifted up the stack of bills. “Electricity, phone, cable…all that shit’s gone in less than a month.”
“Nolan, language!”
I ignored her and leaned forward. “There’s nothing left. Do you understand me? Your savings, retirement – it’s all gone.”
“Your father knows what he’s doing…”
“My father can’t string two words together right now,” I responded as I dropped the bills to the table and pinched the bridge of my nose to ward off the pounding in my head. “You can’t sell the house because you owe more than it’s worth. And neither car is worth anything.”
“Well, then, we’ll go to the bank and talk to Mr. Wilson…explain the situation to him. He’ll understand,” my mother said with a smile.
“It doesn’t work like that anymore, Mom,” I said tiredly, but she’d already risen to her feet and dismissed me.
“I need to go change. I promised Edith-”
“To help her with the bake sale, I know.”
She shook her head at me and I didn’t need to hear the words to know what she was thinking.
As she left the kitchen, I stared at the computer again. Even if I paid all the overdue bills, there wouldn’t be enough money left to pay off the credit cards. And there sure as hell wouldn’t be enough to get me out of Pelican Bay anytime soon.
How the hell had I thought this would be easy?
Had I really told myself it would take a week or two at most to help my mom get my dad back on his feet and then I’d head to anywhere that wasn’t Pelican Bay?
A dark thought entered my mind and admittedly, it was hard to shake. It would be so easy just to get up and walk out that door. To pretend I’d never gotten the call from my mother telling me I had a duty to come home and help her take care of my father.
But as quickly as the thought entered my mind, I pushed it away, because as strained as the relationship was with my parents, they were still just that. My parents. They might not have been the most emotionally giving people in the world when I’d been growing up, but they’d kept me clothed and fed. There was no rule that said you had to love your kids too.
I’d give as good as I’d gotten. Maybe they didn’t deserve it, but I knew myself well enough to know that if I wanted to start my own life fresh, I’d have to deal with this first. Only then could I put Pelican Bay and everything that had happened in the ten years since I’d left behind me and start anew.
With that thought in mind, I pulled the computer closer and reached for the first bill.
“Nolan, is this thing working? Remember that you need to be home by seven to sit with your father while I go to evening services.”
The message continued, but I didn’t bother listening since my battery was nearly dead. I felt numb inside as I got my parents’ old Buick started and on the road to begin the long trek back to Pelican Bay. There was no way I was going to make it home by seven, since it was already six-thirty and I had over an hour’s drive ahead of me.
Mom and church were just going to need to spend some time apart tonight.
I tried to will away my bad attitude, but I couldn’t even find a scrap of optimism left to get me there.
Not surprising, considering the shitty week I’d had. The morning after I’d paid all of my parents’ most crucial bills, I’d done what I’d been avoiding since I’d gotten back to Pelican Bay and had ventured into town. And “town” was exactly what Pelican Bay was. The insular community of just over a thousand people sat along the edge of one of the larger lakes in northern Minnesota, which meant it was a pretty decent draw for tourists.
And the residents of Pelican Bay took full advantage of that fact, even if they did tend to grumble about it a bit.
But one problem with being a town that relied heavily on the buckets of cash that tourists dropped was that you had to rely on the tourist seasons. For Pelican Bay, summer was the busy season, with winter ice fishing offering a little bit of a boost to the economy during the cold months. And while October was cold, it wasn’t quite cold enough for the ice fishermen to make their way north just yet.
Which meant the local businesses were surviving off the meager summer earnings, as well as the little bit of income they received from year-round residents. That meant the jobs just weren’t there, and if someone happened to be hiring, the competition was stiff. Not that that had even mattered in my case.
I’d had high hopes when I’d gone into the local grocery store when I’d discovered they were looking for a cashier. But the second I’d handed over my completed application to the owner, he’d looked over his glasses at me and then read my name off the form.
“You’re Nolan Grainger?”
I’d nodded. “I am.”
“You live over on Waterview road?”
“Um, yes sir, I do,” I’d responded.
He’d tapped the application on the edge of the counter. “You’re the one who ran off to that hoity-toity school, aren’t you?” he’d asked.
“Uh, I went to Juilliard,” I’d responded. “To study music.”
“Right,” the man had said. “I don’t think we’ve got anything you’d be a good fit for,” he’d declared as he’d handed the application back to me.
Desperation had caused me to swallow my pride and I’d said, “Can I ask why? I’m a quick learner and I’ll work really hard. I’m flexible…I can work full or part-time, weekends…whatever.”
The man had sighed and taken off his glasses. “People in California might be okay with what you done out there, but we’ve got values here. I knew what you were like when you used to sit in aisle seven all day.”
I hadn’t been able to keep from looking at the aisle in question. Aisle seven was where they’d kept the small assortment of books for sale. When I’d been a teenager, I’d had a particular fascination with romance novels (still did, actually) but when I’d used my allowance to buy one, my parents had lost it. Not only because I’d been reading what they’d unabashedly called smut, but also because it was something boys just didn’t do. So, I’d sinned twice. My allowance had been immediately revoked, as had my library card, so I hadn’t been able to get my fix that way. Sinc
e I hadn’t been willing to give up my stories of unconditional love, scorching passion, and perfect fairytale endings, I’d resorted to telling my parents I was out playing with friends when, in reality, I’d been hunkered down in aisle seven with the latest and greatest romance novel by my favorite author. I’d taken the extra steps to put the book inside the pages of a nature magazine so shoppers wouldn’t see what I was actually reading and report it back to my parents.
Apparently, I hadn’t been fooling anyone.
But I knew what Mr. Scarborough was really talking about. I was just surprised he hadn’t used the term “the incident” like my mother was prone to do. Since I doubted she’d been the one to tell him, I could only suspect she’d made the mistake of telling one of the ladies in her social circle, probably so she could get some sympathy for the actions of her wayward son, and that woman had spread the news around town.
I’d been proven right when the only other two places in town that were hiring had turned me away with similar comments. Desperation had driven me to try the next town over and then the next one after that. I’d spent the better part of the week driving to every town within an hour’s drive of Pelican Bay, and while none of them had turned me away simply because I was Nolan Grainger, the rejections had stung all the same.
It turned out that a classically trained Juilliard violinist who’d played in concerts all over the world wasn’t as qualified to run the cash register at Carl’s Fuel Mart or wait tables at Delia’s Dine ‘n Dash as one might think. My ego had taken a blow when Carl himself had informed me he thought the nice young man from the local high school who’d interviewed just before me would be a better fit for the position.
The hopelessness of my situation sank in as darkness began to settle over the horizon. I could keep trying to drive farther and farther out, but the cost of gas would start to cut into any salary I might make. Still, it was better than nothing. My mother would pitch a fit that I wouldn’t be around as much to help her take care of my father, but I was tired of placating her about the situation. I’d tried more times than I could count this past week to make her realize how dire the circumstances really were, but she’d steadfastly insisted that my father would fix things once he was better.
Locked in Silence_Pelican Bay [Book 1] Page 2