“Got a date tonight.”
So had Jason’s mother. That thought had a slight frown crease his brow.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Luke made a sympathetic face. “I’ll take you out next weekend, I promise.”
Jason flipped him the bird.
Dropping down onto the step, Luke took a mouthful of Coke and sighed blissfully. “This is the life.”
It really was no use.
Shaking his head, Jason started the service on his cousin’s car, letting Luke’s voice wash over him as he conversed about anything and everything. He really didn’t mind, not when Luke was more likely to stuff up the job and make it take twice as long. One thing Jason liked was tinkering with cars.
Glancing at the house next door, he wondered what Izzy did to unwind. Maybe he’d find out one day. Then again…he frowned as he worked automatically. It’d been awhile since he’d dated, he never got serious with girls, just had a date here, a date there, nothing more. Serious dating he’d never been into, not when he’d been a troublemaker back in Gully’s Fall. It wasn’t helped by his reputation and the fact that decent women hadn’t been of interest to him - apart from one who’d been way out of his league back then. He’d been young, troubled, and well on his way to earning gaol time in his near future.
His mother always said the day Brand had raised a hand to her had been both a curse and a blessing - a curse because it meant that her son had taken after his father, a blessing because it got her and Jason out of there and to a new beginning and a new life.
But Jason had to wonder, just how far did the apple fall from the rotten tree? If push came to shove, would he find more of his father in him than he wanted? Jesus, just the thought of raising a hand to a woman turned his stomach, the memories of his smart-alec, degrading taunts at women enough to make him cringe, the way he’d treated them as little more than a soft body to shove into to relieve his lust bringing a sour taste to his mouth now, but still he feared what might be in his genes.
To be truthful, that was probably why he’d never cared that no woman interested him much. Getting serious meant facing doubts and fears he didn’t want to. Goddamn truth.
“Hey.” Luke squatted down beside the car to nudge Jason’s leg. “You okay under there? Not dead or anything, are you?”
The diversion was so very bloody welcome. “Worried it’ll reflect on your reputation?”
“More worried that the car is half serviced, no oil, and I’ll have to hire a car for my date tonight.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll be done on time.”
There was silence for several seconds, then, “You spaced out a bit there, mate. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.”
“You sure? ‘Cause you can tell me anything, right?”
“My balls have been a bit itchy lately-” He stopped with a chuckle as Luke gave his leg a light kick. “Hey, man, you asked.”
“Never again. Just never again.”
Grinning, Jason went back to work, but not before casting the fence between his house and Izzy’s a look. Maybe keeping his distance was a wise thing for now.
Luke hung around until after lunch before heading home to do some chores and get ready for his date.
Jason worked on the banister he’d started the previous weekend, replacing railings that wobbled, steps that bowed under his feet and squeaked, and finally polished it all. By the time he’d finished it was shiny and as good as new.
Satisfied, he showered and left the house, intent on heading over to his uncle’s to meet his mother’s date. Talk about a strange situation.
Sticking the key in the work utes door, he glanced over to see an old sedan parked on the side of the road in front of Izzy’s house. Someone sat in the driver’s seat, their profile turned towards the house, but in the growing gloom he couldn’t make out if it was a man or woman.
Izzy’s house was dark, so she was probably out.
Getting into the ute Jason started the engine then waited, watching curiously as the car continued to idle beside the kerb. Suddenly the headlights flashed on and the car pulled away. With inbred cautiousness - labelled paranoia by his younger cousin, Blue - Jason watched it turn onto the main road at the end of the street and disappear from sight before he reversed out of the driveway.
When he walked into his uncle’s house at precisely six thirty, it was to find his uncle sitting at the big kitchen table reading the newspaper with his empty dinner plate pushed aside. At the corner of the table sat the thumping big Bible that had pride of place.
One of the first things he’d learned upon living with his uncle and cousins was that there were rules you were expected to follow. The rules were few, simple, and etched in concrete. No swearing at the dinner table, respect each other, do your chores, and don’t take the Lord’s name in vain. Uncle Harris didn’t care if you cracked a dirty joke, squabbled, or even got into fisticuffs, but you did it all away from the kitchen table. That table was made for family to sit around and share their day and worries as they ate. It was neutral territory and a safe zone.
Jason grew to love that safe zone. His days sharing meals at that table had warmed the cold corners of his lonely, lost heart. In the six years since he and Lora had arrived, the young men of the household had gotten their own homes and left, leaving Lora and Harris in the big, old house, but nothing changed. It was still Uncle Harris’s house, Uncle Harris’s rules, and it was the first real home Jason had ever known and still cherished. Every man who left came back often for a cuppa, for meals, to visit, to talk. It was home.
“G’day, son.” Uncle Harris pointed to the chair opposite him.
“Hi.” Jason sat down.
“Here to check your mother’s date?”
It was still the weirdest, creepiest thing he’d ever heard. “Just want to meet him.”
Uncle Harris glanced up, a smile in his warm eyes. “Yep.”
Jason tapped his fingertips on the table.
Uncle Harris’s gravely voice filled the room. “Lora’s really looking forward to this.”
Jason didn’t have to guess what he meant. “I won’t stuff it up for her.”
Uncle Harris’s gaze was steady.
“Just want to meet him,” Jason added.
The gaze remained steady.
Jason met that gaze just as steadily.
“Good.” Uncle Harris nodded. “You want a hot coffee or something?”
“No thanks.”
Closing the newspaper, Uncle Harris leaned back in the chair. “Been working on the house?”
Glad to have the conversation return to something normal, Jason filled his uncle in on what he’d done and planned to continue with the next day.
“Sounds good, son.” Uncle Harris looked towards the hallway as the doorbell rang. “Reckon that’s Jim. You mind getting the door?” Never mind the fact that Jason was already halfway across the kitchen, his uncle didn’t let one ounce of amusement enter his voice.
Opening the door, Jason looked up. And up. Holy crap, the hulking man at the door surely couldn’t be his mother’s date? He had a cauliflower ear, a broken nose, and an old scar going right through his left eyebrow down to his left ear. Smaller scars pocked his face. He was big, swarthy, with what was once undoubtedly a trim, muscular figure going a little soft. In one hand he held a small bouquet of violets.
“Hi,” the big bruiser greeted. “I’m Jim Mason.”
Oh great. Jason’s eyes narrowed a little. “Jason.”
Jim’s battered face creased in pleasure. “Lora’s son. She’s told me a lot about you.” One big hand stuck out. “Pleased to meet you, Jason. I’ve been looking forward to it.”
A hand like a leg of ham swallowed his, squeezed enthusiastically and pumped vigorously.
Jason managed to crack a small smile. “She’s spoken about you, too.” Once.
“She’s a good woman.”
“Yeah.” Jason’s jaw tightened. “A very good woman.”
Jim looked do
wn at him, the ruined eyebrow rising slowly, understanding crossing his face. “Do we need to talk?”
The blunt question might have caught anyone else off-guard, but Jason didn’t hesitate. “My mother is a very good woman. I just want you to remember that. She has a lot of family who care about her. She has me.”
Jim nodded slowly. “I hear you.”
Bugger it, he knew he’d promised not to say too much, but Jason couldn’t help it. He’d seen her hurt both physically, emtionally and mentally so many times in the past, no way was he going to allow it to again start.
Blocking the doorway, he said quietly, “You hurt her just once, in any way, and I will be on you so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
To anyone listening it probably sounded ludicrous. Jason was strong but lean, whereas Jim had a bear-like height and build. On the other hand, Jason knew from experience that size didn’t always matter in a fight - as long as one knew how to fight dirty, or how to quickly get the upper hand. Didn’t always work, mind you, but it didn’t always fail, either. For his mother, he’d take the risk.
Jim considered Jason for several seconds before he stuck out his big hand once more. “I swear I will never hurt her.”
Jason considered him in turn. There was a light of respect in Jim’s eyes and steadiness to his gaze that Jason liked, but he reserved judgement. He gave Jim’s hand another shake. “Okay.” We’ll see how it goes, Jimbo. Plus he liked the fact the man hadn’t called him ‘son’ and tried to be all gosh-fatherly. That would have been really creepy.
“Jim? Jason?”
Jason glanced over his shoulder, saw his mother approaching with a concerned expression and smiled while stepping aside to allow in Jim. “Just greeting your date, Mum.”
Almost anxiously, Lora looked from one to the other of them.
“You look lovely.” Admiringly, Jim handed her the small bouquet of violets.
Lora’s cheeks flushed, her eyes brightened, the almost shy smile wreathing her face making her appear so much younger. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
Shutting the door, Jason felt a little uncomfortable. What did one say to their mother’s date? After warning them, that is?
Lora saved him. “Come into the kitchen and talk to Harris while I put these in a vase.”
Warning delivered, now Jason didn’t quite know what to do while Lora led Jim into the kitchen. Hovering in the hallway, he felt like a third wheel. The whole damned evening was freaking him out a little. He shoved his hands in his pockets, deliberated sneaking into the lounge room and turning on the TV.
Lora stepped out into the hallway from the kitchen, pointed at him and crooked her finger.
Okay, the lounge room was out and so was the TV. Jason pulled a face, she jabbed her finger at him again and with a mental sigh, he walked into the kitchen, watching as his mother retrieved a vase from the pantry and filled it with water.
Leaning against the wall, he listened as Jim and Harris talked easily.
Maybe he shouldn’t have come. Maybe he should have skulked around outside, waylaid Jim before he rang the doorbell, warned him and then taken off before his mother had seen him. Would’ve been a better plan than standing there watching his mother and her date.
“So, Jason.” Jim turned in the chair to look at him. “Lora tells me you work for Harris.”
“Handyman.” Jason nodded.
“And you’re doing up an old house you bought.”
“You know. Handyman.” Jason shrugged. “Got the know-how.” Geez, he sounded surly when he didn’t mean to, so he managed a faint smile. “Comes in handy.”
“He’s wonderful at his job,” Lora said.
“She has to say that,” Jason said. “Being my mother and all.”
Lora smiled proudly at him.
A few more painful exchanges - mostly on his side, not Jim’s - and then thank goodness his mother and her date left. Jason was more than aware of that big ham hand of Jim’s at the back of his mother’s waist as he ushered her out the door. Lora blew him a kiss before they left and he cringed at a sudden thought - oh God, what if Jim and his mother kissed?
It was the most disturbing and sickly thought. She was his Mum. Seeing her as a woman dating, maybe becoming intimi- oh no, not going there!
“Okay!” He yanked the car keys from his pocket. “Gotta go.”
“Need some fresh air?” Uncle Harris asked dryly.
“You have no idea.”
His uncle’s rich, deep chuckle rolled through the room.
~*~
The supermarket was busy. Even though it was open seven days a week, people still filled the store.
Taken from stacking the shelves to help man the checkouts, Izzy smiled at shoppers, put their groceries through, packed the bags and gave them their change.
As the last shopper cleared her checkout and she had time for a quick breather, she glanced around. She enjoyed working in the supermarket. Previously she’d worked in a dress shop, but it was the supermarket she liked the best. If she was here long enough, she aimed to go higher. Who knew, maybe one day she’d score the job of assistant manager.
Giving her shoulders a quick roll, she looked up as the next customer slid into her row. Her smile froze, her mind going blank as she found herself looking into a face she’d hoped to never again see.
“Hi, Izzy.” Moira smiled.
She hadn’t changed. Her hair was still elegantly curled, her clothes expensive, her handbag worth more than what Izzy paid on weekly rent.
“Good morning.” Izzy gave the polite response automatically, dropping her gaze to concentrate on the few items Moira had placed on the conveyer belt. Her heart bumped uncomfortably but she was relieved to see that her hands didn’t shake.
“You’re looking good,” Moira said.
“Thank you.” Izzy carefully bagged the groceries. “That’ll be twenty four dollars and sixty cents, please.” Heat rose in her chest, the faint licks of anger singeing her memories.
Moira slid a bank card into the EFTPOS machine. “I was hoping we could have a cup of coffee sometime soon.”
The faint licks gave way to a surge of anger, but Izzy bit back the sharp reply, keeping her gaze on the screen in front of her. She’s not worth it. Don’t screw up what you have. She’s nothing.
“So, what do you say, Izzy? Coffee? Maybe in your lunch break?”
Izzy watched the information come up on the screen and followed the instructions, ringing off the purchases and tearing off the receipt which she handed to her sister. “Thanks, but no.”
“It’s been awhile.” Moira tucked the card away. “Please?”
This time Izzy looked her right in the eyes. “No.”
“Izzy-”
Spotting a couple hovering not far away, Izzy called out, “Next please.”
Moira bit her lip, forced a smile. “I’ll see you soon then, eh?”
Not a snowball’s chance in hell.
Moira walked off and Izzy automatically greeted the next shoppers, went through the motions, all the while her mind whirling. What the hell did Moira think she was doing? After all she and Jarrod had done, she thought a cup of coffee and a nice little chat could fix it?
All the old anger, the old pain, threatened to come rolling back and she had to force it down, knowing she didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on it while working. But come lunchtime, she was hiding out in the staff room instead of sitting out on the park benches for lunch. She could sit and think without fear that Moira would be waiting for her.
Whatever her sister wanted, it would be nothing good. Even worse, knowing Moira, she wasn’t finished yet in trying to get what she wanted, and that meant she would track down where Izzy lived.
Her hands tightened on the sandwich, squishing the bread as she inhaled deeply, fighting down the alarm and anger combined. Damn it, her sister was in the past, Izzy sure as hell didn’t want her in her present or her future.
By the time Mikki arrived for the late shif
t that would continue until closing time at eight o’clock, Izzy had her emotions under control and was able to greet her friend with a cheerful wave.
“Good grief.” Mikki touched her hair, neatly confined in a plait and wound up in a bun. “It’s pouring rain out there. I thought I was going to drown between the car and here.”
“I like the rain. It freshens everything up, goodness knows we need it.”
“I just hope you brought a ‘brolly or raincoat.” Mikki noted Izzy’s expression. “No worries, you can have my raincoat.”
“And let you drown on your way out tonight?” Izzy shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Besides, the rain might have stopped by then.”
“Maybe you could slip out to Target on your break and buy a raincoat.”
“When I already have one in my closet? No way.”
“You’re tight-fisted, Kempton.”
“I’m saving for my own place, remember?”
“It won’t do you any good when you catch your death of cold.”
“You don’t get a cold from getting wet. You get a cold from a bug.”
“What kind of bug? Fly? Mozzie?”
“Oh, you’re so witty.” Izzy smiled at the customer who fronted up to the counter. “Good afternoon.”
“You’d think so,” he said sourly, “but it’s pouring out there and I have to pick the kids up from school. I’ll get soaked going to the car, they’ll be soggy little buggers making the car seats wet.”
“I’ve heard it’s raining.”
“Bloody weather.” He dumped the contents of the shopping trolley onto the conveyor belt, grumbling the whole time.
Oh joy.
When knock-off time arrived, Izzy gave Mikki a cheerful wave goodbye and headed out back to collect her handbag. At the staff entrance, she looked out in dismay at the rain pouring down. After ten minutes of waiting with a couple of her co-workers, she decided that it had set in well and truly, and double-backed inside. Leaving the supermarket, she walked out into the shopping centre, bought a magazine at the newsagent and settled at one of the little cafés that were dotted around the complex.
Having a yummy bought dinner and reading a magazine wasn’t such a bad thing, she thought as she settled down next to the window. Beyond the verandas she could just see the car park. Blurred colours revealed where cars were parked, and the odd person in brightly coloured raincoats braved the rain to dash to or from the cars, in too much of a hurry to be able to wait out the worst of the rain.
Promises Page 8
