Upon the River Shore

by Leona Bentley

  I squeezed her hand, the melancholic longing she felt lodging itself in my throat. "It must have been nice," I commented, "growing up in such a small place and knowing everyone."

  "It was, dear. Tell me, though, what are you doing to the old Myers homestead?"

  I told her about the old front steps that I'd just finished varnishing on my last day off, and of the stump I fought with off and on in the back yard. She snickered at my description of the splintered floorboard I was replacing and the bugs that kept popping out of the hole.

  "You're in the country now," she declared. "You'd best get used to bugs."

  Considering how thick the mosquitoes were getting as the weather warmed, I had to agree. There had been plenty of bugs at Gramp’s, but after so long in the city, I’d forgotten most of what it was like to fend them off.

  Joan and Gregory returned outside with Lane not long after that, his parents' faces composed but his own pinched. He left them and came to squat next to us, sliding one hand over my knee and his other resting on top of mine with his grandmother's. Annoyance and determination carried over from his touch, and I wondered if he’d forgotten I could feel what he did.

  "Still just beer, Nan?" he teased.

  "You turn eighty-seven, you can drink all the beer you want."

  "I'm with her," I told him, trying for a smile.

  Corey gave his Nan a quick kiss on her head and lifted a hand my way. "I should see about more steak."

  I lifted a hand in return, giving him a look that I hoped conveyed my gratitude. He saluted me with his bottle.

  "Your beau was telling me about his plans for Scottie's old place," Nan Hunter told him. "It sounds like the two of you are going to be pretty busy."

  I startled, hastening to assure her that I wouldn't take advantage of her grandson's generosity, but they both laughed at me.

  "We will," he agreed. "You should see the faces he makes at some of the old wallpaper."

  "It's peeling," I defended myself. Even if it hadn't been, it was still awful stuff.

  The cake was brought out, and while we ate I watched those around us. All signs of their parents' worries were hidden, their faces relaxed as they spoke with various relatives and guests.

  A few kids tussled on the grass and their dad barked for them to behave and not roughhouse so close to the barbecue. They huffed and chased each other away to the side of the yard—and were then chased by Corey, who apparently was a favorite cousin of theirs. They let out whoops of eardrum-bursting joy and took off.

  "He still thinks he's a kid," Lane sighed.

  His grandmother snickered. "You both are," she told him bluntly. Lane mock-whined.

  She was a lively woman, and I loved the play of her emotions beneath my hand. Would Gram have been able to be more like her, I wondered, if we'd still had a family? If I hadn’t been me? As small as I'd been, the overwhelming waves of her anxiety had left their imprint in my mind. Every time I'd held her hand or touched her I’d been filled with waves of terror and worry. Those emotions had filled me, and while I could barely remember her face, those emotions were still as clear in my memory as if I had just held her hand.

  I wanted to hold on to the conviction in Corey’s words, but their father’s worried words wouldn’t leave my mind. Not even their grandmother’s funny teasing of the boys or Lane’s own mood could shake it loose.

  Lane bumped our shoulders together when he noticed my distraction, but each time he touched me for the rest of the party it was over my clothing. Would I have noticed that care, I wondered, if not for his impromptu meeting? I could have brushed my hand against his, but I was too much of a coward. I didn’t want to know what effect their words had on him.

  The party wound down as afternoon wore close to evening, and Lane dropped me off at home, planning to go grab some paint at the shop. The quick peck he gave me gave me a brief sensation of determination wrapped up with affection, but it was gone in the brush of lips and a Lane-sized grin.

  How could I blame his parents for loving and worrying about this man?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Now whose boy are you?” had become something I expected from the elderly customers during my shifts at Carole’s. I always smiled and explained that I had just moved there from out west. That would in turn lead to a discussion on their own various relatives and acquaintances chasing dreams on the other side of the country. The constant interest in my life was a source of amusement for my coworkers.

  “Pretty much all of them know you’re new here,” Amy offered after an older woman and her grandson took their seats at one of the tables. “They just need an excuse to talk to you, and that’s an easy one around here.” The devilish gleam in her eyes let me know she wasn’t finished, and I steeled myself for whatever she’d tell me next. “Just wait ‘til they start calling you Lane’s boy!”

  Oh God. Carole, coming up behind us, startled me from that unpleasant thought when she tugged on a curl. “You know,” she grumbled, “I absolutely love your hair. I wish mine would curl like that.”

  I shook my head, laughing. “It’s a pain. Honestly. You don’t want them.”

  She grabbed another one of my curls and pulled it straight, tugging once before letting it bounce back. “No,” she assured me wistfully, “I’d kill for that hair.”

  “You’d kill me if I gave it to you, too,” I returned. She just rolled her eyes and passed me a stack of menus, wandering back over to finish the conversation she’d been having with her husband, Bradley. He didn’t stop by that often, but he seemed nice enough.

  The bell on the door rang, and I looked over to find Avery Lakewell entering, a lady on his arm who had to be his wife. I went to meet them at the table they were heading towards. They had barely taken their seats before the man was ordering.

  “My wife and I will each have an order of your hot roast sandwich special, both with mashed potatoes and the gravy only on the sandwiches.”

  I hastily got my pad out of my pocket and scribbled down his order, tucking the unplaced menus back under my arm.

  “Can I bring either of you anything to drink?”

  Steely gray eyes gave me a cool once-over. “Tea for my wife and coffee for me, Mr. … Garder, isn’t it?”

  I swallowed, nodded. Terrifying.

  I almost sighed in relief at having the kitchen doors between my back and that man. Carole, coming in behind me, smirked at the gobsmacked look on my face.

  “First time meeting Averys, then?” She laughed. “The mayor pretty much runs this town.”

  “I saw him at Lane’s grandmother’s barbeque,” I told her. “I didn’t really talk to him, though.”

  She patted my shoulder, taking advantage of the chance to give a curl a tug. “He’s a good man, just a little strict. Eve was his niece, you know.”

  He kept the cool regard up the entire time he was there. I got the feeling he was studying me, and I hoped I wasn’t showing any reason to be worth the regard. By the time he left, I was practically a nervous wreck.

  I was leaning against the counter sipping coffee on my next break, having just finished yet another “whose son are you” conversation, when Carole came up to lean next to me. The restaurant was practically empty, just Ivan and a few others sitting near the back, drinking coffee over the last of their late lunches and grumbling about various grievances.

  “You know,” she told me, “I bet you’d have that question a lot less if you got out more. I don’t mean here, though, even if I’m grateful for the business.” She winked, laughing. “Lane said you hated Dixie’s, but there are other places you can go.”

  Wait, what? “Lane said—”

  “Don’t even try!” I jumped when he appeared next to me, stealing my coffee. I hadn’t even noticed the door open. “You were miserable. Don’t deny it.”

  He stole a generous few gulps and then gave me back my mug. I clutched it closely, not willing to give him a chance to take it again. The closer we were getting, the more I was starting
to realize that he was a horrible food thief.

  “I’m not too big on that type of place,” I defended myself. There were too many memories of Morgan dragging me out to sit and watch him posture with his cronies, of Geoff coming home drunk and stinking of cheap perfume the night he died, and of Morgan’s back room meetings I’d never been able to escape.

  Gram had always called bars and pubs death-stops, but then she’d had similar things to say about practically everywhere else. Even grocery stores had been labeled as waiting traps. She’d always made Gramp leave us with her when he went to get groceries, and I remember Geoff clinging to my hand, terrified, the first time Gramp took us to one after she died.

  Contrary to the whispered imaginings we’d dreamt up together, there were no flames to swallow our souls or monster mages peering at us from the shadows. The biggest danger came from lopsided displays threatening to fall on us. About the time a woman ran into a cardboard rack of books and spilt them everywhere, apologizing profusely and making poor attempts at righting the flimsy thing, we were long past that fear.

  Too bad, since some of that fear of the bars might have saved my brother’s life.

  “I just wanted to warn you,” Lane grinned. “Corey is determined that the three of us are going out to Dixie’s on Friday. We have Saturday off, surprise, surprise, and I know that you do, too. Good luck shaking the idea out of him.”

  Unsurprisingly, the younger Hunter did show up at the end of my shift, and as expected his whining and begging resulted in my giving in. I hadn’t forgotten his support at their grandmother’s party, and if he was that determined to have me there then I might as well give in.

  “He’s a bad one to be around,” Carole teased, Jess coming up next to her while I threw on my coat. “Best be careful!”

  Jess snickered. “You’re just asking for trouble,” she threw in. “At least Lane will be there to keep him somewhat on track.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Saturday night came, and as expected we ended up back at Dixie’s. I thought I was hiding my discomfort well. I was eating my fries—as I had promised myself—and smiling at all the right points in the Hunters’ tales. Lane, as usual, proved me wrong.

  “You’ve been down.” As always, he went straight for his point. I sighed, not willing to meet his eyes, but he refused to budge. “Corey knows why, I can tell, but he said I had to ask you. So, I’m asking.”

  I was too much of a coward to face it. “It’s nothing,” I told him instead. “Honestly.”

  A lie. His face told me he didn’t buy it, either. “No?”

  What was I supposed to say, that I’d overheard his parents and they were right to be furious with my presence in his life? I might have broken, but Corey wandered out to join us then.

  “Talk it out later, you old ladies. There’s an awesome time in there and you’re missing it!”

  “I think you’re enjoying it enough for all three of us.”

  Only half-listening to them, relieved that the attention was off me, I looked around at the empty parking-lot and realized that it wasn’t as empty as I’d thought. Four men were walking towards us from the cover of the trees, and when they came close enough the look on their faces didn’t look like they meant anything good.

  Stepping closer to Lane, I caught his arm and hissed at him to turn around. “We should head back inside.”

  The brothers turned as one, jaws snapping into nearly identical looks of furious, stubborn pride. “There’s good old Bennett and his friends,” Corey snarled. “Of course, we couldn’t go a fucking night without them showing their damned faces.”

  Lane ignored his cussing for once, instead giving me a push backwards. “Head inside. We’ve a conversation to have with these men.”

  Right. That was happening. This was no place for conversations, neither seemed too inclined to talk, and there was no way I would leave the two of them out here alone.

  “What are they?” I asked instead, pitching my voice low enough that they wouldn’t hear the words.

  “Two like us, two not. They all like their fists. Please.”

  “Back off, Bennett!” Corey demanded.

  Lane stepped next to him, trying to cut me off. “This isn’t the place or time for whatever it is you want. What’s going on here?”

  “Your idiot brother knows exactly what he did, and if you don’t get out of our way then all three of you are asking for trouble.”

  Two mages, two humans. How were we supposed to get out of this? Humans meant authorities, but those humans were unknowingly backing two mages against three others.

  The man next to the one who had to be Bennett swung for Lane’s face at the same time Bennett and the other two charged at Corey. Three against one, and there was no way he’d be able to take those three on himself.

  Cursing myself and Corey in my head, I jumped out from behind Lane and tackled one of Corey’s attackers, knocking the man off course. My skin scraped his as we struggled, and the depth of his fury startled me enough that his punch to my face caught me unprepared.

  My head snapped back from the force, but I managed to keep my feet, used to much worse. When he swung for my stomach I scrambled aside, grabbing for his arm and throwing my full weight onto it, sending us both stumbling.

  He grabbed for my curls, and I threw my head back, feeling the gush of blood over my hair and grimacing but not letting go until he knocked me off my feet onto the pavement. I doubled when he kicked my stomach, but grabbed his leg and yanked as hard as I could, sending him headfirst to the ground, his arm barely getting up in time to scrape across the pavement in front of him and cushion the blow to his head.

  An angry yell sounded over the noise of the fight and then the doorman was there, his furious voice issuing threats of authorities if we didn’t quit. My assailant stilled, looking up to Bennett. One of the men fighting Corey and Lane was too out of it and took a swing at the man only to find himself pinned to the ground seconds later.

  “Quit it!” Bennett growled. It was over just like that, and the man now straddling me fell back, hand leaving my throat and taking his vindictive fury with him.

  I sat up choking as Lane scrambled to my side, his chin bleeding sluggishly. He took a careful grip on my jaw, tilting my head so that he could better see the split along my cheekbone in the parking-lot light. “Are you all right?” he demanded, voice tense but touch gentle. “Did Troy hurt you?”

  So, that must have been the would-be choker’s name.

  I hurt, but there was nothing really damaged below the surface. I felt confused more than anything else. I never expected anything good to come from a visit to a place like this, but this situation was more in line with Gram’s fears than anything I had expected.

  “Your brother needs new playmates,” I managed, touching his chin and making sure everything was okay with him below his surface. His muscles ached and there would be bruising, same as me, but no real damage. As soon as we were out of prying eyes I’d help the healing along. He caught my hand, and when I met his eyes he gave his head a slow shake, his own request for my caution. I nodded once. Still, I had to tell him one thing. “They were furious,” I added quietly, seeing that the doorman was distracted with Corey. “Revenge. I think they felt they had to do this.”

  I shook in the aftermath, my ebbing adrenaline leaving behind room for memories of Morgan and his men. His emotions had always sliced through me like a molten knife, and the emotions they’d held had contained that same mad intensity.

  Corey limped over, and I snagged his wrist as soon as he was in reach, checking him as well. He had made out worse than us, but was also fine. The doorman came with him, still scowling but no longer issuing threats. That was good, I figured.

  “Want me to call the cops?” he asked, watching us before turning that scowl back on Corey. “This keeps up and, starting it or not, you should probably stay clear for a while.”

  Corey scowled back, not answering, and Lane sighed. “Thanks, Jake,” he t
old the man. “I’m considering locking him up anyway. He’s a danger to everyone.”

  “Please do.”

  We were a sorry looking bunch when we got back to their place. Corey dug extra ice out of the freezer, and we wrapped it up in cloths to press to our injuries before heading for the living room. I sat gingerly in the middle of their couch, wincing at my skinned back. I had no doubt it’d be even more painful in the morning.

  Lane sat next to me, and I put my hand on his chin. He brushed it off. I blinked at him, and he shook his head, patting my knee. “I’m fine. It’s okay. It looks like that takes a lot from you.”

  “I’d feel better,” I told him. He sighed but let me, ready with a hand to steady me as the following head-rush knocked me sideways.

  Corey grinned when his turn came, but I felt the guilt and concern he hid beneath that cocksure expression. “I gave Bennett a great fat lip,” he boasted, as if his own face wasn’t even more swollen from the man’s attention. “I hope the bastard feels it all week.”

  Lane reached over my head to thwack his brother, sending the younger Hunter into a fit of laughter.

  “You’re a dick, you know that, right?” The words slipped right out of my mouth. Corey’s face lit up as I spluttered. He barked a laugh.

  “I know you love me,” he joked, butting his shoulder into mine.

  Still flushed, I offered a dry, “You’re the sun in my sky” and he went into another round of laughter.

  “Okay, you have to stop sucking face with my brother. You’re pulling in his corny lines.”

  Lane reacted before I could, once more reaching past me to rap his knuckles over the top of Corey’s head. “Stop bothering Brett.”

  I sighed, glancing at the clock, and Lane frowned. “Won’t you do something about yours?”