by Gina Wilkins
“I’d love that.” Nic’s enthusiasm had more to do with getting out of the house than sightseeing. And she’d just about rather eat bugs than participate in a spa day with Heidi and the other wives.
Joel probably knew exactly what she was thinking, but he merely smiled and said, “Great. Dad, you mind if we borrow your car again?”
“Not at all. I was going to spend the day working in the yard anyway. Got to get those leaves raked up.”
“And I have a meeting at the church,” Elaine said. “Fay’s picking me up, so your father can use my car if he needs to go anywhere. Why don’t we all meet back here for cocktails before you leave for your party? Say, five o’clock?”
“Sure. We’ll have to change for the party anyway,” Joel agreed with a shrug.
“Let me help you clear away the breakfast dishes,” Nic offered, reaching for the empty waffle platter.
Elaine shook her head firmly. “You and Joel go have fun,” she insisted. “I really prefer to take care of things in my kitchen by myself, though I appreciate your offer.”
“We gave up trying to help in the kitchen a long time ago,” Joel said with a grin. “Mom has her particular way of doing things and she doesn’t like anyone messing up her system.”
“She did let Heather help her some,” Lou reminisced. “But she was training Heather to do things her way.”
Joel’s chair scraped on the floor when he shoved it back from the table. “Since we’re forbidden to help with the cleaning up, maybe we should just go,” he said to Nic. “I’ll take you down to see the revitalized historic town square.”
She sprang to her feet. “Sounds fascinating.”
There wasn’t a lot to see in Danston. The driving tour took just over an hour, and that included looking at the old courthouse twice.
Joel had driven slowly, doing the tour-guide thing by pointing out places that had been significant to him growing up. The high school. The drugstore with the old-fashioned soda fountain where he and his friends had hung out after school. Though the drugstore was still in business, the soda fountain had closed several years ago, leaving the teenagers to gather in the chain fast-food restaurants in the newer part of town.
The two-screen movie theater where he had watched the teen comedies of the eighties had been replaced by a six-screen stadium-seating multiplex out on the highway. The old roller-skating rink was gone now, and several of the mom-and-pop stores had closed when the big-box superstore opened just off the highway, next to the new theater. But as Joel had said, downtown was being revitalized with an influx of shops selling antiques, gifts, crafts and specialty items like kitchen gadgets and bath supplies.
Nic admired the old-fashioned street lamps that lined the newly resurfaced sidewalks and the facades of old buildings that had been given facelifts. “It’s a nice town,” she said. “I’ll bet people come from all over to shop on the square.”
He nodded. “Especially at Christmas. The downtown merchants go all out decorating for the holidays with lights and window displays and garlands—keeping everything old-fashioned and pedestrian-friendly. It’s really nice then. You should see it.”
Nic thought the chances of her ever visiting here at Christmas were remote, but she kept that thought to herself as she answered, “It sounds great.”
“Yeah. It’s nice.”
That subject exhausted, he turned the car at an intersection and drove in silence for several long moments. Nic tried to think of something to say to fill the gap. “I know you haven’t been home for a while to visit. If you’d like to spend more time with your parents today, don’t feel like you need to entertain me. I packed a couple of books and I’d be perfectly comfortable reading in your mom’s living room while you visit with them.”
“To be honest, I’d rather spend most of the day out with you. I love my parents, Nic, I really do, but spending too much time with them is kind of stressful. For all of us, I think.”
Nic lifted an eyebrow. “Why?”
Keeping his eyes on the increasingly rural road ahead, he shrugged. “I don’t know, exactly. They still don’t understand why I wanted to move away. I guess we’ve all just grown apart some during the past five or six years.”
Since Heather’s death, Nic thought with a slight shake of her head. She knew that tragedies tended to either bring families closer together or push them apart. Elaine had said that losing little Kyle had brought them closer, but Heather’s death seemed to have had the opposite effect.
“Where are we going now?” she asked, since she was no expert in family dynamics—as Heather had been, she remembered with a wince.
“I thought I’d show you where Ethan lives. He’s got a place near the river outside of town. A dam was built back in the fifties to create the lake. Lake Parnell, named after an old local family. Ethan lives about five miles upriver from the dam.
“The lakeside resort where most of the reunion guests from out of town are staying and where we’ll meet for the dance tonight is called the Parnell Resort and Conference Center. It used to be an old fishing lodge, but it was remodeled during this past summer to update all the guest rooms and add the ballroom and some conference rooms. There aren’t many conferences held around here, of course, but several of the local civic organizations will use the facilities for monthly meetings and fund-raisers and such.”
Figuring he was pretty much looking for any excuse to keep from returning home, and going back into tour-guide mode to keep from talking about why, she nodded and sat back in her seat to watch the pastoral scenery passing on the other side of the glass.
Ethan’s home was hardly luxurious, but Nic could certainly see why he would want to live there. A cedar-sided cabin with big windows and a small yard, his house sat close enough to the riverbank that he could easily throw a rock from his back door into the water. He had a no-frills boat dock with a tin-roofed shelter for his fishing boat and a cedar-shake-topped gazebo over a concrete picnic table and a stone barbecue. It looked more like a weekend fishing cabin than a full-time residence, but she supposed Ethan liked the rustic solitude.
“It’s nice.”
Joel nodded. “Yeah. I’ve spent occasional weekends here with him. We fish, watch TV, eat grilled meat.”
“Have long brotherly talks?”
Chuckling, Joel shook his head. “Ethan’s not one for talking much.”
“He’s never been married?”
“Nope. Says no one can put up with him long enough. The truth is, of course, that he won’t compromise enough to make it work with anyone.”
Wrinkling her nose, Nic murmured, “I guess it’s no surprise that I can identify with that.”
“No surprise at all,” Joel replied with a laugh. “Ethan’s truck is in the driveway. Want to stop and say hi while we’re here?”
“He doesn’t mind drop-in visits?”
“Nah. Ethan doesn’t really care about social niceties. If he wants to see us, he’ll ask us in. If not, he’ll tell us he’s busy and send us on our way.”
The affectionate tolerance in Joel’s tone kept the comments from being critical. He didn’t seem to find anything particularly odd in Ethan’s behavior; perhaps because he was simply so accustomed to it.
He parked behind Ethan’s older-model brown pickup and opened his door. Nic didn’t wait for him to come around to open hers. She stepped out into the crisp—but not cold—October air and inhaled the scent of fresh country air. Even the atmosphere was peaceful here, with little traffic on the road and no neighbors in direct line of sight.
“It reminds me of my uncle’s fishing cabin on the Buffalo River,” she said as she and Joel moved toward the front porch that held two redwood rockers and a chain-suspended redwood swing. “I used to love going there with my family for Labor Day.”
“My grandfather used to have a place similar to this in Michigan. We would go there when we went to visit when we were kids. Granddad died when I was ten and we haven’t been back since, but Ethan always said he
was going to live in a fishing cabin someday. As soon as he had the money, he built this place.”
Filing that tidbit away with the few other items she knew about Joel’s older brother, Nic watched as Joel tapped lightly on his brother’s front door. It opened almost immediately, making her wonder if Ethan had heard them drive up.
Ethan smiled when he saw his brother standing at his door. Nic thought about how much more approachable he looked when he smiled. No matter how often people commented about his occasional grumpiness, he seemed to be a pretty decent guy underneath. Still, his smile changed again when he turned to her, and she wondered what it was about her that bothered him.
“Nic,” he said perfectly politely. “It’s good to see you again. Are you enjoying your visit to Danston?”
“Very much. Joel’s been giving me a tour of the area.”
Ethan chuckled. “That must not have taken long. Come on in. I’ll make a pot of coffee.”
Apparently he was feeling social today. Nic followed Joel into the house, discreetly studying the decor on her way in. She wasn’t particularly surprised to see that Ethan’s tastes ran to minimalist comfort. Deep couches and chairs, functional tables, a big rock fireplace, built-in shelving, few knickknacks or wall decorations.
It was a man’s place, a bachelor’s home, and Ethan was probably quite comfortable living here. She couldn’t help wondering, though, if he had ever wished for someone to share it with.
The kitchen was especially inviting, with its big windows, industrial-looking appliances and a hanging rack that held well-used-looking copper-bottomed pans. “You like to cook?” she asked Ethan in some surprise.
He shrugged. “I like to eat. I don’t like frozen dinners or fast food and I live too far out of town for deliveries or takeout. I had to learn to cook.”
“Very practical.”
“He’s a great cook, actually,” Joel volunteered. “Especially if you happen to be a carnivore.”
“Have y’all had lunch?” Ethan asked. “We could put some burgers on the grill.”
Because Joel seemed to like the idea, Nic agreed that it sounded like fun. And it turned out that she was right. Preparing and eating lunch with the Brannon brothers was a pleasant way to spend a couple of hours.
She enjoyed watching the interaction between them, making note of their differences—and their similarities. Despite the fact that Ethan wasn’t much of a gabber, he and Joel talked easily enough, sharing a sort of fraternal shorthand that left Nic occasionally confused but never feeling deliberately excluded.
Ethan seemed particularly interested in hearing about Nic’s work.
“It’s not exactly nonstop excitement,” she replied in answer to his questions. “I work a lot of traffic accidents, standard break-ins, domestic disputes, that sort of thing.”
“You carry a weapon. Have you ever had to discharge it?”
“Not in the line of duty. I practice regularly on the shooting range to make sure I’ll be prepared if I ever have to open fire.”
“She’s used her Taser a couple times,” Joel said, wiping his fingers on a paper napkin. “Even had it used on her. She showed me the videotape of the experience.”
“It’s standard procedure for officers who are trained at using the Taser to have it used on them,” Nic explained when Ethan turned a questioning look her way. “That way we know firsthand what we’re inflicting on other people.”
“What’s it like?”
“Pure hell,” she answered without hesitation. “It doesn’t last long in actuality, but it feels like forever while you’re being hit with that voltage. I went down to my knees. But I stayed conscious,” she added proudly.
Ethan’s smile was wry. “Congratulations.”
“It’s actually a very effective weapon despite the inevitable controversy about its use. A nonlethal method of controlling situations that have the potential to flare out of control.”
Ethan had a few more questions, which she answered patiently. At least he was talking to her now, and the earlier suspicion in his eyes was fading when he looked at her. Maybe he’d realized from watching her and Joel together that they really were just friends. That Nic had no particular designs on Joel.
Apparently he was fine with her as Joel’s friend; he just had concerns about her being more. Even though it wasn’t an issue, she couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t want her to get too close to Joel.
Chapter Seven
They had finished lunch and were just beginning to clear away the remains when they were all startled by the opening notes of the Scooby Doo theme music. Smiling sheepishly, Joel reached for his belt. “My phone,” he said.
Ethan rolled his eyes. “What ever happened to phones that simply ring?” he asked rhetorically.
Ignoring his brother, Joel had already taken the call. “Have you tested her blood-glucose levels?” he asked, walking into the other room with a motion to indicate he would return soon.
“He really is always on call, isn’t he?” Ethan commented, still looking toward the doorway through which Joel had disappeared.
“Yes, he is. And he doesn’t resent it in the least. I’ve never seen anyone love his work as much as Joel does.”
Ethan shrugged and reached for Joel’s empty plate. “The work’s pretty much all he’s got.”
Nic felt her eyebrows rise. “Is that what you really think?”
“Well, you know, he doesn’t have many hobbies. And since, er…”
“Since Heather died,” Nic supplied in resignation.
“Well, yeah. He’s pretty much focused exclusively on work since then.”
Carrying a pile of dishes to the counter, Nic shook her head. “Did you know Joel sometimes teaches a kids’ Sunday school class back in Cabot? Or that he plays racquetball with friends twice a week? Or that he paints some absolutely beautiful watercolors?”
Looking startled, Ethan set his load of flatware on the counter and stared at her. “Joel does watercolors? I mean, he used to like to mess around with colored pencils and stuff when he was in school, but—”
“But you have no idea what he likes now,” she finished with a disapproving shake of her head. “You know what, Ethan? I think you and your family and pretty much this whole town have frozen Joel in some sort of time warp. To all of you, he’s still that golden boy from high school or the grieving widower from five years ago. You can’t seem to see that he’s matured and moved on.”
“And you’re judging this on the basis of…what? Not quite twelve hours with us?” Ethan’s tone was just a bit too polite, giving her a hint that her assessment had irked him.
She wasn’t in the least intimidated despite his frown, which might have made a more timid woman quail. “Not just that. I’ve known Joel for almost a year, remember? Living next door to him, I’ve seen him almost every day during that time, spent quite a bit of time talking with him. I couldn’t help noticing that you’ve never visited him there.”
Ethan’s scowl deepened, and she wasn’t sure whether he was more annoyed or chagrined, though she saw both emotions in his expression. “He hasn’t invited me.”
She tilted her head. “Your parents, either?”
“No. Not really. When he wants to visit, he comes here. He has never suggested that we go there.”
Interesting. Was Joel making a deliberate effort to keep his new life in Arkansas separate from his past here in Alabama? “Maybe he’s waiting for you to express interest in visiting him there.”
“Maybe.” But Ethan didn’t sound convinced.
She could still hear Joel talking in the other room as she rinsed a glass and set it in the dishwasher. “He really is doing fine, Ethan. He’s happy, his practice is thriving, he has friends. There’s no need for everyone to look so worried about him.”
A muscle tightened in Ethan’s jaw. “You didn’t see him before,” he muttered. “After—”
Nic was beginning to feel frustrated that no one around here seemed to be able to say
the words. “After Heather died.”
Ethan nodded, his throat working with a visible swallow.
Maybe Nic had watched too many television movies-of-the-week—the ones that often seemed to feature men in love with their brothers’ wives. Something in Ethan’s expression made her wonder….
Oblivious to the somber conversation they had been having about him, Joel strolled back into the kitchen with an apologetic expression. “Sorry. I told Mrs. Carpenter to call me if she had any concerns about her daughter this weekend.”
“I hope nothing’s terribly wrong?” Nic said.
“No. We just need to make an adjustment to her meds. She’ll be fine.”
Nic hoped Ethan noticed how fulfilling Joel found his work despite the occasional interruption of his personal life. It was so obvious to her that Joel hadn’t minded the call at all—just the opposite, in fact.
“Anyway,” Joel continued, “I hope you two didn’t mind me taking a call during our visit.”
“Of course not,” Nic replied for them both with a dismissive wave of her hand. And then she smiled for Joel’s benefit. “At least it wasn’t Aislinn again with another foreboding feeling.”
“That’s true. I could start getting worried if she called again.”
“Aislinn?” Ethan inquired, wondering about the inside joke.
Joel chuckled. “Nic’s best friend. She’s sort of psychic.”
Ethan snorted and shook his head. “Bull. You know how I feel about woo-woo stuff. And people who claim to practice it.”
“Aislinn doesn’t claim to practice anything,” Nic piped up in instant defensiveness on her friend’s behalf. “She firmly denies having any psychic abilities at all. She’s just very intuitive and gets uneasy feelings that come true sometimes. Lots of people have that ability.”
Ethan still looked skeptical and fully prepared to argue about the existence—or lack thereof—of any sort of precognition, but Joel spoke quickly, as if to defuse any further argument. “So what have you two been talking about in here while I was in the other room?”