One of the bonuses of not having a husband or kids, Izzy decided, opening the magazine. She was free to make her own choices. And this was a great choice.
The waitress delivered a plate of piping hot delicious food, and Izzy ate and read, aware of the darkness gathering outside, the lights glowing blurrily in the car park. By the time she’d finished a leisurely meal the rain had lightened to a misty spray. The perfect time to leave.
Sprinting out into the car park, she beeped the car lock open and jumped inside. Vaguely she was aware of someone in front of the car as she started the engine but wasn’t worried, until she flicked on the headlights and found herself staring directly into the wet, angry face of the man she’d never wanted to see again. Her heart skipped a beat, her hands tightened on the steering wheel.
Jarrod.
Seemingly unfazed by the headlights, he glared at her for several seconds before turning and getting into the car parked in front of her. She could only stare, heart thumping, as the tail lights flared red before the car pulled out and away.
Swallowing, Izzy glanced around to see if Moira stood nearby watching her, but it seemed only a few late shoppers were left.
Clenching her teeth, Izzy reversed out of the parking bay and headed home. Wondering if Jarrod was following, she kept an eye on the review mirror, only to swear softly when she realised that the headlights behind her could belong to anyone. She lived in a city, cars pulled in and out of the lanes, and it was too dark to see anything in particular.
As she drove home the anger inside her boiled up again. How dare they? After what they’d both done to her, how dare he glare at her and she want to be friends? The betrayal went too deep, cut too sharp, hurt too much. It wasn’t something she could ever forget. She’d learned to live with it, to put it in the past, but Moira had dragged it straight back up with simply appearing and trying to be friendly. The friendliness didn’t bode well.
“That bridge, sister, burned two years ago.” Izzy pulled into the driveway and came to a stop, her knuckles white as she gripped the brake and pulled it up with force. “There’s no mending it.”
Getting out of the car, she half expected Moira to be standing on the veranda waiting for her, but all was dark and quiet. Probably a good thing, the mood she was in now wasn’t pleasant. All she wanted was a hot shower, get into her nightie, make a hot mug of Milo and sit in front of the TV.
The sensor light lit her way to the door. Arnie met her inside the front door, yelling indignantly for food.
“Oh crap.” She dropped the keys into the little bowl. “I forgot to lock you in the bedroom. However,” she scooped him up into her arms and nuzzled his head, “you’re here and not waving happily at me from Jason’s window, so obviously you either now prefer it here, or the way to get out has somehow disappeared.” Carrying Arnie into the kitchen, she placed him on the floor, shaking her head when he jumped up onto the kitchen bench. “Bad boy. And I, as usual, am not going to do a freaking thing about it.” A dig in the pantry amongst a variety of little tins and she came back out brandishing one of his favourites. “Chicken and giblets in gravy?”
Arnie blinked.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Pulling the lid open, she tipped the contents into his dish and slid it across to him.
Arnie fell on it like it was his only meal of the day, but considering he had half a bowl of biscuits sitting on the floor beside his water bowl, Izzy wasn’t worried.
Half an hour later she was showered, in her nightie, a mug of hot Milo on the little table beside the sofa, the TV on, and Arnie patrolling along the back of the sofa.
Immersed in the movie, she blindly reached out when the phone rang, lifting the cordless piece to her ear. “Hello.”
“Izzy?”
Her attention was snapped away from the TV. “What the - how did you get this number?”
“Cousin Verity gave it to me,” Moira replied. “Please, Izzy, listen to me-”
Izzy hung up. Bloody Verity, thinking she was the peacemaker in the family. How dare she give Izzy’s private number to Moira? Knowing what they’d done to her, how dare she?
Dropping her head back against the sofa, she thumbed in Verity’s number. When her cousin answered, she snapped, “Are you bloody insane?”
“Huh?” Verity answered.
“You gave my private number to Moira and Jarrod?”
“Moira’s your sister-”
“I got a private number deliberately so that she couldn’t phone me. You know I don’t want anything to do with her!”
“Oh, now, Iz,” Verity said soothingly. “She’s your sister.”
“A sister doesn’t do what she did to me.”
“Look, it’s in the past-”
“And that’s where I want Moira to stay.”
“You need to learn to let things go, Izzy.”
Incredulous, Izzy stared at the TV screen. “Let it go? Let it go? After what I went through because of them, you want me to just let it go?”
“She’s family. You shouldn’t hold grudges forever.”
“Verity, I put what happened behind me and started a new life. Moira is not a part of it. You know that.”
“I think it’d be a great idea for us all to get together and talk this out.”
“I think it’d be a great idea to pull your head out of your arse and respect my decision.”
“That’s a little uncalled for,” Verity said stiffly.
“Uncalled for was what they did to me.” Izzy hung up.
Ignoring the phone’s persistent ringing, she turned the volume down to zero, picked up Arnie and went to bed.
It was a long time before she finally slept.
~*~
The early morning sun peeked weakly out from the drifting clouds. Standing on the veranda, Izzy held her raincoat in one hand while studying the sky. The forecast had been for sunny weather, but looking at the clouds she wasn’t so sure. It wouldn’t be the first time the weather forecast had been wrong.
Deciding that it was better to be safe than sorry, she stepped down off the veranda and made her way along the path to the car.
“’Morning, Iz.”
Looking up, she met Jason’s gaze from where he was standing beside his ute with a small food esky in his hand. “Hey, Jason.”
He inclined his head to the sky. “So, what do you think? Rain or sun?”
She smiled, relaxing for the first time since yesterday. “You’re the country boy, what do you think?”
“I’d say sunshine, but with a chance of showers.”
Izzy laughed. “That’s a cop-out!”
“I’m hurt.” Grinning, he tossed the esky onto the passenger seat. “Have a good day at work.”
“Yeah, you too.”
With a cheerful wave, he disappeared into the house.
Feeling a lot better, she got in behind the steering wheel and started the car. Securing the seatbelt, she settled back, reaching for the gear stick.
A hand landed on the door frame. “Izzy.”
Even before she looked up, she knew who it was. Meeting that hard stare, every relaxed muscle in her body tensed. “Bugger off, Jarrod.”
“Izzy, we need your help.”
“You already got enough out of me.” She slid the gear stick into reverse.
“You don’t understand-”
“I don’t want to. Read my lips. Not. Interested.” She reversed down the driveway, paused at the gate and drove back in to where Jarrod was standing, glaring at her. “Another thing, don’t come here again. You and Moira aren’t welcome.” With that terse order, she reversed onto the road.
As she pulled away faster than normal, she caught a glimpse of Jason standing beside his ute, his gaze on her before switching to Jarrod. Driving off, she glanced in the rear-view mirror to see Jarrod approach the fence between the houses and say something to Jason, saw Jason nod. Her gaze switched to the road, her jaw tightening.
What would Jarrod say to Jason? Whatever he said,
she couldn’t do anything about it. She had to go to work, be on time, do her job…and pray that her sister and brother-in-law didn’t darken her doorstep again.
She knew it was a futile hope.
However, there was no sign of Moira or Jarrod for the rest of the day, no one waiting to spring her when she got home, no phone calls. The phone calls bit wasn’t a surprise, not when she’d used her lunch break to switch to another private phone number.
Showered and dressed in loose pants and long-sleeved t-shirt, thick socks on her feet, she was pulling Arnie away from the front window where he was trying to kill the blind when she spotted Jason’s ute pulling into his driveway. Unable to resist, she pulled a tiny section of curtain aside and watched as he got out of the ute. Man, he looked good even in work clothes. Actually, his work clothes and home clothes weren’t very different. Every time she’d seen him, he was wearing an open flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to below the elbows over top of a t-shirt and either old jeans or khakis. Right now he was wearing khaki pants. She scratched Arnie between his ears thoughtfully. Okay, she’d seen him in jeans on his days off, and khakis on his work days, so that kind of explained that - khaki pants were work pants.
“One big mystery solved,” she said to Arnie. “Yay for Izzy Kempton, PI.”
Arnie struggled to get down.
Placing him onto the floor, she shook her head. “You’re not impressed. I’m shattered.”
Arnie dived under one of the cushions and reappeared with a toy mouse in his mouth, which he proceeded to toss around before carting it out of the room like a trophy.
“Big hunter.” Amused, Izzy followed him.
Using the TV as background noise, she pulled out the basket containing the cross-stitch she was working on and settled down to a couple of hours of relaxation.
Lost in the pleasant sensation of watching the picture of an old country house surrounded by flowers slowly and painstakingly come to life tiny cross by tiny colourful cross, she had to blink several times to readjust her vision when the doorbell rang.
Almost immediately she tensed, her hold on the delicate craft tightening. Bloody Jarrod and Moira, she just knew it.
The doorbell rang again, and she placed the cross stitch into the basket, closing the lid securely so that Arnie couldn’t fossick in the basket amongst the colourful threads. Standing, she pulled the t-shirt hem down around her hips, took a deep breath, let her anger boil upwards and strode out of the lounge and into the small hallway. Yanking open the door, she snapped on the veranda light and snarled, “Get the hell off my property before I call the police!”
Chapter 4
“Geez,” said Mikki. “What’d I ever do to you?”
Blushing, Izzy unlocked the security screen, swinging it open. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
“Someone unwelcome, obviously.” Kicking off her shoes, Mikki past her into the house.
Not really wanting to talk about it, Izzy’s gaze dropped to the envelope in her friend’s hand.
Mikki handed it to her. “Most weirdly, this was in my letterbox.”
“Your letterbox?” Surprised, Izzy looked at the back of it but there was no return address. Her name was typed in red on the front. “Who’s it from?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Huh.” Izzy walked into the kitchen, her friend trailing behind. “You want something to drink?”
“Nah, but thanks anyway. I’m on my way to Aunt Elspeth’s to drop off some things she needs.”
“Bit late for that.” Leaning back against the kitchen bench, Izzy ripped the top off the envelope to draw out the single sheet of paper.
“It’s her heartburn pills, she forgot to get them today, and you know Auntie. If she doesn’t have her heartburn pills she’ll be climbing the walls by three in the morning screaming her chest is on fire. Then she’ll ring me. Trust me, this side trip is worth it. Besides, it’s only seven o’clock, it’ll just take me a few minutes to deliver them to her.”
“I get your drift. A trip now saves a trip at three in the morning.” Izzy unfolded the paper and something fell out onto the floor.
Picking it up, Mikki studied it. “Hey, good looking kids.” She handed the photo to Izzy. “Rellies of yours?”
Izzy took one look at the photo before switching her gaze to the sheet of paper. A cold prickle went down her spine as the words leaped out at her.
‘Izzy, please don’t ignore this plea for help. Think of your nieces if no one else. They are part of you, too, and a part of Mum. She wouldn’t want you to be like this. Please, Izzy, we just need some help-’
Oh God, that Moira could actually play that kind of hand… A hot flush of indignation and anger spiking through her, Izzy crushed the letter along with the photo, tossing both onto the bench with a violent flick of her hand.
“Hey.” Concerned, Mikki looked at her. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Yes, it’s all fine.” Sucking in a deep breath, Izzy managed a not-very convincing shrug. “Just, you know, junk mail.”
“Junk mail?” Mikki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “The girls in that photo looked a little like you.”
“It’s nothing.” To her horror, she heard a wobble in her voice. “Nothing.”
“Iz.” Mikki moved closer, laid a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong?”
Everything. Everything was wrong. Not looking at her friend, Izzy clenched her teeth. This was her new beginning, her new life after what had happened. And now… The tears welled up no matter how much she tried to hold them back.
“Oh shit.” Mikki wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Oh, Iz. Is this to do with the way you greeted me? That someone else you thought I was?”
“It’s nothing. I’m just being silly.” Izzy smiled, her lip trembling with the effort to hold back the tears. “I’m just being stupid.” Stupid stupid stupid. I swore they’d never make me cry again, yet here I am, blubbering like a baby. “I’m just PMSing, that’s all. You know, hormones going ape shit.”
“Bulldust. Someone has upset you and-” Mikki’s head swung in the direction of the hallway as the doorbell rang. “Is that them? I’ll sort those bastards out.”
Before Izzy could stop her, Mikki was out the door and running down the hallway.
“Mikki!” Izzy started after her, then stopped. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. Jarrod and Moira, or whichever of them was on the doorstep, wouldn’t want to air their dirty linen in public. With Mikki there guarding the door, they’d leave.
And await their chance another time. This damned thing wasn’t over.
Listening, she heard a low, deep voice at the door, recognising Luke instantly. A wave of relief went through her, especially when she heard the door close. Mikki had seen him off, now all she had to do was convince her friend she was fine and then-
Luke strode into the kitchen. “Hey, Iz, we just called in to see if you - are you crying?”
Startled, she stared at him before looking to where Mikki followed. “Mikki, what are you doing?”
Geez, surely her friend would know she didn’t want anyone to see her snivelling like a baby?
Then, even worse, Jason loomed up behind Mikki, his gaze falling unerringly on Izzy.
Mikki shrugged. “Sorry. He just barged right in. As usual.”
Disregarding her, Luke moved across to Izzy. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She smiled brightly.
“Your eyes are red.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say to your neighbour.”
“You’re Jason’s neighbour, but let’s not quibble about that.” Hands on hips, Luke frowned down at her. “Did someone upset you? Mikki, perhaps?”
“Hey!” Mikki dug him in the ribs as she passed, eliciting a curse from him. “I’m her best friend.”
“No accounting for taste.”
Leaning on the door frame, Jason slid his hands into his pockets. “Does this have something to do with your morning visitor,
Izzy?”
“Morning visitor?” Mikki motioned to the screwed up paper and photo on the bench. “I thought it was to do with that.”
The men’s eyes dropped to the papers.
Quick as a wink, Izzy grabbed the papers and pocketed them. “It’s nothing. Honestly, can’t a girl have a weepy moment without everyone going gonzo?”
“You were fine until you opened the envelope,” Mikki said bluntly.
“And it’s my business.” Moving to the other side of the bench, Izzy put some distance between her and Luke, yet somehow more aware of Jason silently watching from his position against the door frame. “So, what did you come over to see me about?”
“Iz-” Luke began.
“I’m PMSing, Luke. Happy now?” Izzy glared at him. “Want me to elaborate?”
He hesitated, but when her eyes narrowed he winced and held up both hands. “No. Really, just no.”
Silent as a mouse, Jason’s gaze switched from Izzy to Mikki and back again, but he didn’t say a word.
Izzy met his gaze, saw something in the quiet alertness that had her biting her lip and switching her attention to Luke. “So, unless you want me to burst into tears thinking you’re sorry you came over…?”
Luke helped himself to the biccie jar, pulling out a chocolate chip biccie. “I’ll let Jason answer that.”
“BBQ at my house Saturday evening,” Jason said. “Nothing fancy. We’re working on my house and then kicking back with a barbie. I thought you’d like to come.”
Okay, now she felt like a heel. They’d come over with friendly intentions and she’d bitten their heads off. Nice one, drongo.
Chewing on a big bite of biccie, Luke glanced at Mikki. “And you.”
“Really?” Mikki stopped watching Izzy long enough to cast Luke a sceptical look. “That wouldn’t just be good manners, would it?”
“Your Izzy’s best friend,” he countered without batting an eyelid.
Promises Page 9
