by Joss Wood
“Look, Tally, I’m as much at a loss about what to do right now as you.” Kai attempted to keep his voice low and soothing. “I haven’t the foggiest idea what to do or say to you. I’m not sure what your Mom was expecting me do either.”
“I’m not sure she knew. She just kept telling me that I could count on you.”
To do what? Kai wondered. Was he supposed to give her money, a place to live, an education? That seemed a bit excessive, especially since he hadn’t spoken to Jane for more than fifteen years and didn’t even know that she a daughter. Keep an eye on her—what did that mean? He needed specifics, dammit.
“Do you have money?” he asked, after being interrupted by a waitress who took his order of coffee. He wished it was whiskey. He could do with a shot right now.
“A little.”
“How much is a little? Enough to feed and house you for a week? A month? A year?” Kai asked, leaning back.
“I have her savings. It’s not enough to pay for school but it’ll be enough to keep me going until I find a job and a place to live.”
Kai thanked the waitress, who placed a mug in front of him and filled it with hot coffee. It wasn’t Flick’s special blend but it was hot and, he presumed, filled with caffeine, something he desperately needed to fire up his sluggish brain cells. “You can’t stay in your old place? You can’t keep renting there?”
Tally shook her head. “We were living with Morris, Ma’s significant other. Staying with him is not an option.”
It didn’t matter how far Kai wandered from the streets, he could still read the subtext below innocuous statements. Tally’s words were spoken with tense shoulders, flat eyes, hard mouth. “Does he want Jane’s money or does he want you?” he asked.
Tally didn’t bother to lie and, better, he saw respect in her eyes. She just shrugged in a way that was both weary and infinitely sad.
“How long has he been coming onto you?” Kai asked, his tone hard. “And did your mom know?”
“He came onto me the day of the funeral. Told me that we need to comfort each other.” Tally rolled her eyes. “He wouldn’t have tried anything while my mom was alive—she would’ve skinned him alive.”
Kai smiled. The Jane he knew would’ve done exactly that.
“I packed up our stuff and I’m renting some space from a neighbor across the hall. She’ll look after it until I find a place.”
“Where were you living?”
“Shipley Terrace.”
He knew the area well. While it wasn’t as bad as others he knew intimately, it wasn’t Georgetown or Adams Morgan.
“Give me the address and I’ll have it shipped here. I’ll store it at Caswallawn for you.”
“Can’t do that. Can’t pay you to do that.” Tally lifted her chin. Stubborn, just like her mother. And proud. That was all Jane too.
“Do you want to keep your Mom’s stuff? C’mon Tally, you and I both know how it works. You ask a friend to look after your stuff but they invariably, at some point , need cash.”
He could see that Tally wanted to argue but common sense won. She reluctantly gave him the address. “I want you to keep a record of how much I owe you.”
Choose your battles. You’ve won this round and you can argue about money later. “So, what’s your next step?”
“I suppose I should go back to D.C., find a job, an apartment that I can afford.”
He knew how expensive renting an apartment could be in the city, and Tally didn’t look like she could afford to rent a shoebox. In a crap area infested by drug dealers, pushers, and pimps. Sending her back there was not an option. Kai sipped his coffee and used the cup to gesture to the view of Main Street. “What do you think of Mercy?”
A smile almost touched Tally’s lips. “It’s nice. I like the red brick buildings and the plants and the trees. The air smells clean, like leaves and grass and . . . nature.”
Oh, God. Another convert to the cult of cute. “You like nature?”
“Sure, I love it. Don’t you?” Tally sat back as the waitress placed a massive cheeseburger in front of her. Tally immediately popped a handful of fries into her mouth.
He’d spent enough time in nature—in jungles and deserts and fucking cold mountains, usually having someone trying to shoot his ass off—that “nature” had lost its appeal. “I prefer the business of a city.”
But, he silently admitted, Mercy was nature-lite; pretty, happy, and insidiously soothing. The itch between his shoulder blades had also calmed down.
“A city is the loneliest place in the world,” Tally told him, picking up her burger and biting down.
Yeah, but he liked that. He liked the anonymity of a busy place. He could sleep with a woman and not have it be all over town like a rash by the next morning. He liked not having sly glances sent his way from the men of Mercy, not reading asinine comments about him, Flick, or a combination thereof on that stupid online forum, and he preferred not to be given the stink-eye from the older generation for seducing and thereby corrupting their beloved Flick.
But he really did like sleeping with Flick. Pity that he wasn’t going to be doing any more of that in the near future.
You’re losing focus again, Manning. Right now you need to focus on Jane’s daughter. The easy option would be to pay for her meal, maybe her motel bill, and send her on her way. He could do that. He didn’t have to agree to fulfill Jane’s dying request. But there was something immensely powerful in a last request, something that went far beyond a run-of-the-mill favor. It had to do with trust and acceptance . . . it was a benediction, a belief. It wasn’t something, it shouldn’t be something that could be ignored or shrugged away.
Jane had trusted him with her beloved child, and he couldn’t just dismiss that and walk away. Even though Tally was, technically, an adult, Jane had wanted someone to be there for her and Jane had selected him. That was faith and belief and trust.
All because he’d helped her out of a bad situation so long ago.
“Why don’t you consider hanging around Mercy for a while?” He chose his words carefully, thinking that if he told her what to do she’d deliberately do the opposite. Because that’s what he would’ve done at eighteen.
“Why should I?” Tally asked, belligerent. Yep, exactly how he’d been. All bravado and no common sense.
“Because rent is cheap and we could probably find you a job here until you decide what you want to do or until you’ve saved some money.”
Kai watched as Tally polished off her burger, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “Why aren’t you saying ‘nice to meet you’ and moving on?”
Kai looked her in the eye. “Because I was eighteen once and full of shit, so very convinced that I needed nobody. That I was an adult and I could handle the big bad world on my own.”
“You look like you did okay.”
By the time he was eighteen he’d had a decade’s worth of practice at being emotionally self-reliant. It was a bitch of a road to navigate alone. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone. “Pride and self-reliance can make you cold and heartless, emotionally bankrupt.”
“Is that what you are? Emotionally bankrupt?”
Ouch.
Tally’s pointed question was spear-sharp. The sadness and speculation in her eyes stopped him from answering flippantly. He intuitively knew that she, like him at that age—like him at any age—preferred to be hurt by the truth than comforted by a lie. “Possibly. It’s a hard way to live, and I don’t recommend it. Pride and loneliness make for crappy bedfellows.”
Tally leaned back and folded her arms across her narrow chest. In that moment, beneath the mascara and the lipstick and the eyeliner, she looked about fourteen and so damn scared it rocked him. “And you think that I should stay here? In Mercy?”
“It’s an idea,” Kai replied. “Just until you get
back on your feet, until the ground stabilizes beneath you a bit.”
Just call him Dr. Phil.
“And you won’t try to boss me around? Tell me what to do?”
“I might,” Kai replied honestly. “We’ll argue but, as you said, you don’t have to listen to a thing I say. You can always say no.”
Tally looked out of the window and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “And you won’t, you know, like, demand a key to my apartment or anything like that?”
Fuck. Underneath the table Kai banged his tightly clenched fist on his thigh. “No,” he said, convinced that enamel was flying off his teeth he was grinding them so hard. If he got his hands on the person who put that fear into her eyes, he’d rip his throat out. “You’ll be under my protection, Tally, just like your mother was. Besides, you’re about half my age and I’m not interested in teenagers.”
Tally’s shoulder slumped in relief. Oh yeah, something bad had happened. He chose his next words carefully. “I’m an ex-SEAL, Tally, and so are my best friends. We’re not opposed to dishing out some street justice.”
Tally considered his statement for a moment and a small smile touched her lips. “I’m good, but some distance away from D.C. . . .” she hesitated, ”. . . wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
“You need my help, you yell.”
“Only if I can’t handle him myself.”
Kai narrowed his eyes in warning but she wasn’t intimidated. That was all the information he was going to get, but he could live with that. If she ran into trouble she knew that she could count on him. That was all she needed to know.
Tally pursed her lips. “Getting back to me staying in Mercy . . . I’d prefer not to prolong my stay at the motel, so I need to find an apartment, and a job, quickly.”
Luckily he knew people, like Flick, who knew everybody in town. If she couldn’t help him, them, then nobody could. “Let me talk to someone and I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Maybe that Flick woman has some ideas,” Tally said casually as he pulled some cash out of his wallet to cover her burger and his coffee.
“She might. My partner Sawyer has also lived in this town all his life and knows everyone,” Kai replied.
“Yeah, but you’re going to talk to Flick first,” Tally said as she stood up. “I’m a great excuse to talk to her, aren’t I?’
Wise guy. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kai said, placing a light hand on her back to guide her out of the restaurant. She immediately stiffened and he dropped his hand. Yeah, someone had definitely done a number on her.
Tally made herself smile. “Not that it’s any of my business—”
“Usually when someone starts a sentence with those words, it’s never any of your business.”
“—but you really don’t need an excuse to go and talk to her.”
“It’s really not any of your business,” Kai reiterated, opening the door and gesturing for her to walk out first. “I’ll drive you back to the hotel.”
Tally’s curls bounced as she shook her head. “It’s two blocks over. I’ll walk.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” Tally rocked on her heels. “Thanks for the burger and you know . . . Thanks.”
“It’ll be okay, Tally.” The words jumped out of his mouth and he was as surprised by them as Tally.
“I know.” Tally dragged the toe of her boot over a crack in the pavement. “I’ll be fine . . . it’s just . . .”
“Tough? Lonely?”
Tally puffed air into her cheeks and he caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “Yeah. That.”
“I know. It gets better.” Kai jammed his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants. “Go on now. Get some rest. I’ll be in touch in the morning.”
Tally hauled in a breath, straightened her spine, and slung her backpack over her shoulder. “Later.”
“Later.”
Kai watched her walk down the road and it was only when she turned the corner that he crossed the road to his car. He hesitated, hand on the handle, before jamming the keys back into his pocket and walking north. Artsy Tartsy was just around the corner, in the opposite direction, and maybe Flick was still there. He could ask her advice about Tally, get a decent cup of coffee, a leftover cookie, and relax.
Wind down, because dealing with bereft teenagers, running Caswallawn—living in Mercy—was damn hard work.
Chapter Nine
KevTheFirefighter: Rufus has got to be the stupidest dog in the history of creation. All lust, no sense.
DocMolly: But the sweetest.
AbbyM: More important, let’s discuss Mr. G’s outfit. The ruffles did nothing for him, and those heels were very Princess Di.
***
In the Artsy Tartsy, after a long day, Flick lifted the screen of her laptop, thinking that she’d pick up her email and surf her social media accounts in the now quiet, empty space. She loved being alone in the bakery at the end of the day. It was a friendly and happy space, a place she could unwind. Except that every time she tried to relax today, she remembered the tense conversation she’d had with Gina earlier.
“Please can I tell Pippa?” she’d begged.
Gina looked about ten years older than she normally did. “I can’t, not just yet. I need . . . time.”
“We don’t have time, Gin! You’re going to have to go home at some point, and Pippa will find out. Then Jason and, eventually, Rogan—if he ever comes back to town—will find out, and when they realize that I kept this from them . . .” Flick let the words trail away.
Gina put on her stubborn face and Flick knew that she wasn’t going to get anywhere. “Why not? Why can’t they know?” she demanded, shoving her hands into her hair.
Gina stared at her. “You and I realize that people are not always who they seem to be. That there’s always a churning mass of emotion beneath the surface.”
Yeah, of course she did. Life hadn’t been easy for Flick—she’d lost her brother and her mother in the space of a year, and her father had been a physical presence but not an emotional one.
When she spoke, Gina’s voice was so low that Flick had to strain to hear the words. “I’ve been a good mother, Flick.”
“Nobody is disputing that, Gin.”
“And I’ve been good to this community. I’ve worked hard, created an identity for myself. A good wife, a good mother . . . a do-gooder.”
Flick had realized the implications of what wasn’t said immediately, and, as a result,all she could think about was what her aunt had been trying to convey. Gina’s identity, her security, were tied up in how her children and her friends saw her, and her collecting didn’t fit into that image of the well-dressed, confident, efficient woman she showed to the outside world.
Admitting her problem would be, for Gina, the equivalent of standing naked in the town square, inviting the community, her extensive family, to judge her and to find her wanting. She would no longer be seen as perfect.
Gina had always had high standards, Flick mused, for her friends, her community, and especially for her children. They were part of the fabric of the town and they had an image to uphold. Coloring outside of the lines was not encouraged.
And Gina’s collecting wasn’t just coloring outside the lines—it was obliterating them. Mercy would never look at her in the same way. The gossip would be brutal, and she’d be knocked off her pedestal. Flick still didn’t understand what had caused her aunt to start collecting, but she understood, reluctantly, why she’d want to keep it under wraps. Gina rather liked her place on her pedestal, and she was relying on Flick to keep her there. But not being able to tell Pips was eating a hole in Flick’s stomach.
Flick heard a soft rap on the window and turned in her chair to look across the shadows of the empty bakery to the huge windows. She immediately recognized the figure’s height, broad shoulde
rs, and long legs.
Kai.
It was ridiculous how her heart went from calm to a full gallop just because a hot man was standing in front of the door to her bakery. Flick stood up and walked across the room to the door to flip the lock. Kai stepped inside and she closed the door behind him. He reached across her shoulder to lock the door.
Kai looked around the dark interior of the shop and frowned. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
Flick nodded to her laptop on the table in the far corner. “There’s enough light to see what I’m doing.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for ideas for the ready meals. And I had an inquiry about catering a small wedding.”
“That’s great.”
“It is. But now I’m thinking that I maybe bit off more than I can chew. Your lunch reminded me that catering’s damn hard work.”
“Hard work never killed anyone.” Kai followed her to the table and dropped into a chair, stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles. He put his hand to his mouth and smothered a yawn. His eyes dropped to the black screen of the laptop and he cocked his head. “Here’s an idea—you need the laptop to be up and running in order to do work.”
Busted.
“So, actually, you were sitting here and brooding.”
Brooding made her sound sad and bitter. Which she sorta, kinda was but there was no way she was going to admit that to him. “I was thinking.”
“Brooding.”Kai’s eyes flicked across her face.”Dark rings under your eyes, taut mouth, tension in your neck.” He linked his hands behind his head. “Definitely brooding. Want to talk about it?”
Flick had to smile. “I can’t quite see you in the role of agony aunt, Manning.”
“I’m not normally, but I’ve just done a session with Tally so I’m in the zone.” He sighed, dropped his hands, and rocked his chair back so that he was balanced on the two back legs. “You’re wound tighter than a spring and you need to let go. It’s either talking or sex . . . I can either listen or take you to bed.”