Calm Before the Storm Kobo

by Larissa Ione

  “I hear your brother is back in Storm,” he said.

  She forced a smile. “He is. I saw him this morning.”

  “Has he heard from your father?”

  “Not that I know of. They aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”

  “Ah. Well, it must be nice to have him back.”

  She ran the tip of her finger over the bracelet’s delicate chain. “I guess. He’s been gone for so long that I don’t know why he bothered. When I get out of this town, I never want to come back. If I were you, I’d stay in Austin.”

  “Trust me,” he said smoothly. “Small towns have their charm. Simple life, simple people.”

  “Is that how you see me? Simple?”

  His full lips curved into a charming smile. “You? Of course not.”

  She returned the smile, but something niggled in the back of her mind. He’d spoken the right words, but was it her imagination or had they been a little...automatic, almost wooden? Nah, it had to be her imagination. The spat with Marcus this morning had knocked her off balance and had her questioning everything.

  Did he truly think their father was a monster? Surely he was remembering things wrong. Oh, she knew Hector had been hard on Marcus, but that was how boys learned to be men. Once, Sebastian had said that his father had never spared the rod with him, and look how he’d turned out. He was handsome, smart, successful, and educated. And he didn’t whine about his father being abusive.

  Sebastian’s phone buzzed, and he swiped his finger over the screen. “Looks like I have to go. Founders’ Day drama strikes again.”

  Disappointment made a knot out of the salad she’d eaten. “Can’t you stay a little longer?” Shifting to make sure her cleavage was showing, she lowered her voice and batted her eyes at him. “There’s a motel just down the road.”

  “Sorry, baby, but duty calls.” Standing, he pulled out a few bills from his pocket and tossed them to the tabletop. “Between work and the Founders’ Day festivities, I’m going to be pressed for time for a while. I’ll contact you when I can.”

  What the hell? She’d driven all this way for a wilted salad and a brush-off? “Wait, so you’re saying I won’t see you for a while?”

  “Probably not, but I’m sure you’ve got plenty to keep you busy.”

  Dammit. She watched him walk out of the diner and around back to where he’d parked his car. This was not acceptable. If he was really into her, he’d make time to be with her instead of focusing on the stupid Founders’ Day—

  Of course! Founders’ Day clearly meant a lot to Sebastian, so what better way to show him she could organize and fundraise as well as his wife than to take her mother up on the offer to serve on a committee? Plus, she’d get to see Sebastian more.

  Grinning to herself, she popped on her sunglasses. Today had started out like crap, but she’d turned it around. She always did. And soon, Sebastian would see that as well.

  Chapter Six

  Mallory knew the smell of bacon would bring Marcus out of his bedroom, and sure enough, as she plated the scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes she’d made, he shuffled into the kitchen wearing shorts and a ratty T-shirt from some Montana sporting goods store.

  “Morning, sleepyhead.”

  He grunted and reached for the coffeepot. “Where’s Mom?”

  “Church.”

  “And you didn’t go?”

  “I haven’t gone for years.” She set the two plates loaded with food on the table.

  He cracked a smile. “You must be the scandal of the town.”

  “Not even on a slow day.” She plopped down in a chair and tucked one leg under her. Mom always yelled at her for that.

  Marcus looked down at his plate. “That looks amazing. Thank you.”

  As he sank into a chair across from her, she picked up a piece of bacon. “And thank you again for last night. That was the first time in forever that we’ve had pizza/movie night.”

  “I still can’t believe Dakota came,” he said, reaching for the salt and pepper.

  “And that she behaved.” If Mallory believed in miracles, she was pretty sure Dakota’s behavior last night qualified. She’d shown up in a good mood, announced that she was taking up their mom’s offer of volunteering for a committee, and then she’d stayed to watch the animated Disney movie Mallory had picked out. And she hadn’t complained once.

  Which probably meant something was up. With Dakota, there was always a calm before the storm.

  Marcus dug into his breakfast, and they ate in silence for a few minutes until Marcus got up to get more coffee. “Mal,” he said as he poured coffee into his mug, “what do you think happened to Dad? Honestly?”

  “Don’t know and don’t care.” She stabbed a piece of egg with her fork. “It’s best for everyone that he’s gone.”

  He padded back to the table. “Dakota clearly doesn’t see it that way.”

  Dakota only saw things her way. “Why are you asking? Are you going to look for him?”

  “Hell, no.” He drenched his remaining pancake in syrup. “It’s just...something isn’t right. Believe me, I don’t want him to show his face here ever again, but what if he left because he was into something bad? I’ll be damned if I let his sins come back to bite you all.”

  She hadn’t really thought of it that way, mainly because she’d just been happy he was gone. The why of it didn’t truly matter.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I think I’ll go talk with Sheriff Murphy this afternoon when I’m done patching the Pragers’ roof.” He took a drink of his coffee. “I saw them yesterday. It was like I never left. Same with the Murphys. I’m hoping Dillon will be willing to at least look into where Dad might have gone.”

  “Dillon’s really cool.” Mallory shook the last of the pepper out of the shaker and made a mental note to put it on the grocery list. “And I think...”

  “You think what?”

  She bit down on her lip, unsure if she should say what she was thinking. She did that sometimes, let her mouth run away before her brain caught up. “I think he kind of likes Mom.”

  One dark eyebrow popped up. “You kidding? What makes you say that?”

  “Nothing specific. It’s just the way he looks at her sometimes.”

  “Huh. Interesting.” He seemed lost in thought for a minute, and then he focused on her again. “So what’s on your agenda today?”

  “Nothing much,” she said with a shrug. “Mom asked me to hit the library and see if I can find info on the original Founders’ Day celebrations. She wants a retro theme for the game booths or something.”

  “I’m surprised you aren’t hanging out with your friends at the lake or the movies. Are they busy?”

  She didn’t even bother to hide the bitterness in her voice. “Hmm, let’s see. Jeffry is busy helping Senator Rush because he can’t say no to his dad or grandma. Heaven forbid you tell Marylee Rush no. And Luis is being a jerk. Oh, and Lacey is a skanky, lying slut. So that about covers it.”

  Marcus gulped his coffee. “I’m not even sure where to start with all of that.”

  She waved her hand. “Don’t bother. It’s a big, tangled mess.”

  “I’m sorry, Mal. It’s tough being a teen, and I hate to say it, but relationships only grow more complicated as you get older.”

  She searched his face for any hint of what he might be getting at, but his expression gave nothing away. “Everything okay between you and Logan?”

  “Yeah. Great,” he said absently. “I hung out with him, Ginny Moreno, and Brittany Rush yesterday.”

  “Brittany, huh?” She waggled her brows. “She’s pretty, don’t you think?”

  Marcus shrugged. “She’s not hard to look at.”

  Mallory rolled her eyes. He was so transparent. “You should ask her out. You could double up with Logan and Ginny.”

  The fork clanked on his plate as he put it down in a pool of syrup. “That wouldn’t be fair to her, not when I’m going back to Montana. Besides
, Logan and Ginny…” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He glanced at his watch. “I gotta get going. I told Rita Mae I’d be there by eleven. Thanks for breakfast.” He rinsed his dishes and headed for the bathroom. A moment later, she heard the shower start.

  What was that all about? She couldn’t imagine Marcus and Logan being at odds about anything, but then, they hadn’t seen each other in forever.

  Maybe it was nothing. And maybe it was none of her business anyway. She had her own crap to deal with, and that included figuring out how to deal with Luis. He wouldn’t stop e-mailing, texting, and calling, even though she never responded.

  You’re going to have to acknowledge him eventually.

  That was the problem with a small town. You couldn’t avoid anyone or anything for long. As if to place a big exclamation point on that thought, her phone buzzed with yet another text from Luis.

  Please, Mallory, give me five minutes. That’s all. Just five measly minutes, and then I’ll leave you alone forever, if that’s what you want. I promise.

  Sighing, she tossed her phone in her purse. She’d learned a long time ago that a promise was only as good as the person making it. After all, how many times had her father promised to come to a spelling bee or talent show but never showed up? How many times had he sworn to help her with her homework, only to end up so drunk he couldn’t add two plus two? Even worse, how many times had Marcus sworn to be there for her, only to abandon her for a stupid ranch in Montana?

  Okay, she knew that wasn’t fair. If she’d ever truly needed him, he’d have been on the first flight home. But still, the men in her life hadn’t been there for her, and Luis was no different.

  * * * *

  Luis Moreno was having a crappy day, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

  Marisol had insisted on going to church, which was the boringest thing ever. And when he told her that, she’d scolded him for using the word “boringest.”

  “That’s not a word. No wonder you’re getting a B in English.”

  “I’m getting a B-plus,” he’d said, maybe being a teeny bit of a smartass, and she’d handed him the keys to the shed. Which meant he’d earned an afternoon of mowing the lawn.

  “Now you know why I’m living with the Salts,” Ginny had whispered from the pew behind him.

  “Can I come live with you?” he’d whispered back.

  Now he was sitting outside the church with Ginny, waiting for Marisol to finish socializing inside. He wished she’d hurry. It was freaking hot out, and he was sweating through his favorite gray dress shirt.

  Ginny sat on the bench next to him while the Salts chatted with the Rushes, and by some awesome miracle, Lacey hadn’t come to church today. He wasn’t sure what he would have said to her. She’d done nothing to discourage the rumor that they’d slept together, and he was still furious. Even if it had been true, it was a shitty thing to do. And stupid. Did she not realize that she was the one who would take the brunt of the community’s judgment? That the old double standard would come into play, and he’d be considered a stud, while she’d be written off as a slut?

  Even now, a classmate walked by and shot him an atta-boy wink. God, this was humiliating.

  “Have you heard from Mallory yet?” Ginny asked.

  “Not a word.”

  Ginny patted his hand. “I’m sorry, Luis.”

  “’S’okay. I got myself into this mess.”

  “I tried to talk to Lacey about it, but she shut me down. Told me it was none of my business and that I was the last person who should lecture her about sex.” She shook her head. “That’s not what I was doing, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “That,” he muttered, “seems to be a girl thing.”

  Ginny laughed. “We’re complicated, mysterious creatures, full of stubbornness and secrets.”

  Wasn’t that the truth. He glanced at his sister, at her belly that hadn’t started to swell except for the smallest bump, which could just be her breakfast, and wondered if she was keeping a really big secret.

  Instantly, shame swept over him. He shouldn’t think the worst of her. Just because he’d overheard a conversation that cast doubt on her claim that Jacob Salt was the father of her baby didn’t mean she was lying. Miracles happened, right?

  At least, that’s what Pastor Douglas said at every boring sermon. Yep, his sermons were the boringest.

  Take that, Marisol.

  He shifted, and the key to the shed poked him in the hip. Which he probably deserved.

  “What do you think I should do?” he asked. “You’re old and experienced.”

  “Old?” She flicked him in the back of the head with her fingers. “Jerk.”

  “Yeah, yeah. So?” He watched a crow dart across the blue sky overhead and wondered what it would be like to fly away from all your problems. “I want to fix this with Mal, but how, if she won’t talk to me?”

  Ginny glanced over at the Salts, who were starting to make their way to the car. “I say talk to her face to face. Don’t stalk her or anything, and don’t go to her house. Find someplace neutral. Then tell her how you feel.”

  “But what do I tell her about what happened? Lacey and I didn’t have sex, but...” He cringed as the memory battered his brain. “We messed around, you know?”

  “Tell the truth.” She averted her gaze, but not before he saw a pained shadow in her eyes. “If you don’t, you’ll spend the rest of your life worrying that it’ll come out.” She smiled thinly. “Either Mallory will believe you or she won’t, but either way, you’ll know you were honest with her.” She stood, giving the Salts an “I’ll be right there” wave. “Let me know how it goes, and good luck.”

  Yeah, he’d be needing a lot of that. And as Ginny walked away, he couldn’t help feeling as if he wasn’t the only one in need of a boatload of good luck.

  Chapter Seven

  Marcus was in desperate need of a shower and beer by the time he got home from the Pragers’ place. As he climbed out of the car, he heard singing coming from the backyard. His mom must be hanging laundry or taking it down. Smiling, he started around the house, but he slowed as memories of the last time he’d gone into the backyard slapped him upside the head.

  Memories that were burned into his brain like a cattle brand.

  He’d come home from work at the Pragers’ bed and breakfast, and as he’d walked up the sidewalk to the front door, he heard a scream come from around back. Heart racing, he’d sprinted around the house and collided with Dakota, who was dragging a crying Mallory behind her.

  “Mom and Dad are fighting,” Dakota blurted, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Take Mallory inside the house.” When Dakota hesitated, he snapped, “Now!”

  Dakota grabbed their sister’s arm and Marcus rushed to the fence gate.

  “Please don’t!” His mom’s voice, high-pitched and drenched with sobs, made Marcus’s stomach twist, but not as much as hearing the crack of flesh on flesh that followed.

  He nearly tore the gate off the hinges in his haste to get into the backyard, where clothes and towels hung between the two huge oaks, flapping in the breeze as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. As if there wasn’t an overturned laundry basket on the ground and a smear of blood on one of the white sheets draped over the clothesline.

  As if Hector wasn’t grasping Joanne by the arm as he drew back his fist, ready to drive it into her already bleeding face.

  Marcus’s vision went crimson with fury. He heard a roar of rage, belatedly realizing it had come from him as he charged the bastard. He hit Hector like a linebacker, knocking his father off his feet. They hit the ground in a tangle of fists.

  Dimly, Marcus became aware of his mother’s frantic cries to stop and of the pain from the blows his father was raining down on his face and ribs. Hector was bigger than Marcus, heavier by at least fifty pounds, but Marcus had blind rage on his side, and he wielded it like a weapon. Blood stung his eyes and coated his tongue, but he wouldn’t stop fighting. Not even whe
n Hector got the upper hand and flipped Marcus onto his back before driving his knee into his belly.

  “You little fuck.” Hector hammered his fist into Marcus’s jaw, and for a moment, his vision went blurry and it occurred to him that his father could kill him. Right there on the lawn Marcus had mowed the day before.

  He saw the flash of Hector’s arm as he drew back again, and with a roar, Marcus summoned all his strength and rolled, knocking his father onto his back. Head spinning, he fumbled around for a weapon, a stick, his mom’s shoe, hell, the laundry basket would do...there! He closed his hand around a fist-sized rock from the fountain that hadn’t worked in years.

  “No! Marcus, no!”

  Suddenly, cold water crashed over him, knocking him backward. He scrambled to his feet, shaking with adrenaline and confusion. His breath burned in his throat as he drew in huge gulps of air that made his ribs scream in pain. His mom kneeled next to his dad, a bucket turned on its side lying a few feet away.

  Wrapping his arm around his own ribs, Hector struggled to sit up. “You little bastard,” he snarled. “I don’t know who your whore of a mother fucked around with, but you’re no son of mine.”

  Marcus’s fingers tightened on the rock. “That’s bullshit and you know it.” He spoke through clenched teeth and between ragged breaths. “But believe me, I wish it were true.”

  “Marcus,” his mom gasped.

  “Seriously, Mom?” He gaped in disbelief as she rubbed Hector’s shoulder soothingly. “He called you a whore, and I’m the one being disrespectful? He doesn’t deserve my respect. He doesn’t deserve yours, either. Hell, he doesn’t deserve this family!”

  Pursing her lips, she averted her gaze. “You should go,” she said gently. “Please. Go stay with the Murphys for a couple of days. Give you and your dad time to cool off.”