Don't Look Back

by Wendy Vella

  “From where I’m standing it’s perfect timing, because we may need your help to fight whatever your father is planning.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “You worked alongside him from what Ethan’s told me. Maybe you can offer us some insights. Or are you involved in this consortium?”

  “What? No!”

  Outraged, Brad glared into the calm face of Paul Newman.

  “Not nice to be accused of something you didn’t do, is it?”

  “Well fuck.” Brad muttered the words under his breath. “You did that on purpose.”

  “Of course I did. Now come and sit back down, Brad, and let’s talk.”

  He found himself following the man when what he should have done was keep walking until he reached his bike, then get on it and leave town.

  Sitting, he picked up his coffee and swallowed a large mouthful to steady himself. The Geldermans had disappeared, and as Newman didn't seem inclined to continue the conversation, Brad looked at the lake and let his mind wander.

  What the hell was his father's game?

  “I brought food.”

  Brad made himself turn and face Ethan and Annabelle. The latter held a plate of sandwiches.

  “I’m sorry, I had no right to come here and upset you the day after your wedding.”

  “Why did you come here, Brad?”

  He didn't see any censure in Annabelle’s eyes, just curiosity.

  “I was involved in an accident, and my friend died. After the funeral I decided it was time to mend some fences with my family.”

  “Was this friend a close one?”

  Brad shrugged. “Possibly the closest I’ve ever had.”

  “How were you injured?”

  “Shoulder, but it’s healed now.”

  “Can I see.”

  “No.”

  “Is it really healed, or just man healed?”

  “Man healed?” Brad looked at his brother, who rolled his eyes.

  “She thinks because we have this tough guy image we let our health suffer, or some other BS. I could go on and on about it, like she does, but that’s kind of the root of it.”

  “It’s not BS, it’s very real. Some men neglect themselves and think things will heal without help, but often they don’t and those issues go on to become bigger ones.”

  “My shoulder’s fine, Annabelle,” Brad said as she got to her feet. “Really,” he added as she stepped closer.

  “Let me see.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “She’ll win,” Ethan drawled. “Just get it done, Brad, it’s easier.”

  She reached for his shirt and started pulling.

  “Jesus, Annabelle.”

  She had it raised and over his head seconds later, her eyes on the thick scar that curved over his shoulder from back to front.

  “Ouchie.”

  “Ouchie?”

  “Nurse speak,” Newman translated.

  “Looks like it’s healed up okay.”

  “Is now a good time for I told you so?”

  “Definitely,” Ethan said. “Get it in while you can.”

  Brad pulled his shirt back on.

  “So this friend of yours.”

  “Mark.” It hurt even saying his name out loud. “And I don’t want to talk about it, Annabelle.”

  “All the more reason to do so if you want to heal.”

  “I am healed.”

  “Physically maybe, but not emotionally.”

  Brad groaned.

  “She’s big on expressing what’s inside you, Brad.”

  He sent his brother a glare.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you lost your friend. It must have been hard.”

  Brad acknowledged Ethan’s words with a nod.

  “Please tell me why you left home, Brad,” Ethan then asked him.

  The please made the difference, and what the hell, maybe he should try and at least have a civil relationship with his brother. He doubted they’d have anything deeper, but he could play nice, even if it was just for Annabelle’s sake.

  “EG asked me to fire Troy five days before Christmas, and I couldn't do it.”

  Ethan whistled. “Troy has been my father's right hand since before we were born,” he added to get Annabelle and Newman up to speed.

  “Why'd he want him gone?”

  “He said it was time for a change. Time to bring in someone young and more innovative. What he actually meant, I found out from Troy, was that he was hiring a young woman he wanted to get into bed.”

  “So you told him no,” Ethan added. “Must have been ugly.”

  Brad remembered the day clearly. The rage that had mottled his father's face, and the anger that had gripped Brad.

  “Uncle Mitch walked in when I had Father pinned against a wall.”

  “Good timing, Uncle Mitch, is my guess,” Newman said.

  “Don't worry, he's like part of the furniture.” Ethan waved a hand at his friend as Brad looked at Newman. “You get used to just talking and every ear listening here, it's just the way of things.”

  “I'm the comfortable ottoman.”

  “Idiot,” Ethan muttered. “So what happened then?”

  “I left. Packed my things, told Uncle Mitch I couldn't live there any longer, and that he needed to watch out for Mother.”

  “Just like me,” Ethan said. “Uncle Mitch was there when I left.”

  “Guess.” Brad didn't want to think about the moment he knew his brother had thrown him to the wolves… or more importantly, one wolf in particular.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Macy had woken the morning after Ethan and Annabelle's wedding smiling. She’d had sex with Brad Gelderman and loved every second of it. Loved, relished, and several other descriptive words. The man had taken her to heights she hadn't known she could scale.

  She was pleased he was leaving though, because she had a feeling any man that could bring her to such heights would play havoc with her head if he was around for long enough.

  “What are you smiling at, Mommy?”

  “Nothing, sweetie, you just eat your snack.”

  She really shouldn't be thinking about the night she'd shared with Brad while her son was sitting across the table. But what a night. Macy sighed silently. He'd touched her like she was precious. Kissed her softly, and for those brief moments, she had been just a woman with no emotional baggage. It had been heaven, and Macy knew she would hold the memories of that night close for a long time.

  Last night had told her that perhaps if the right man stepped into her life, she could have a relationship with him. Last night had been another step in changing the person Brian had turned her into.

  “You sighed, Mommy.”

  “Just a bit tired, Billy. It was a big day yesterday.”

  No one could quite look at you as thoroughly as your child.

  “I liked that man Brad.”

  Holy crap!

  “Ah, yes, he seemed nice.”

  “Can I have some more apple please?”

  Such were the workings of a four-year-old mind, Macy thought, climbing out of her chair to retrieve the apple.

  “He talked to me about stuff, Mommy. But you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I think he was lonely there, even though he was Ethan's brother.”

  “Why do you say that, Billy?”

  “’Cause he had a sad look on his face when he looked at Uncle Ethan. Kind of like Declan does when he looks at Aunty Branna sometimes.”

  She often forgot just how much her son understood. He was an intuitive child, raised by adults, plenty of them. They usually kept their conversations light when he was near, but it seemed he'd picked up on things without her realizing it.

  “Declan and Branna had a rough few years, baby, but they're all good now, okay.”

  He nodded then hummed as he ate his apple, and Macy's thoughts slipped back to Brad Gelderman.

  “I'll get it!”

>   Before she could react, Billy had leapt off his chair and raced for the door. Macy hadn’t even heard a knock. She followed at a slower pace. Her body had a few twinges today that hadn't been there yesterday. Her breasts felt tender, and muscles she hadn't used in a while were making themselves known. Swallowing the knowing smile, she went to see who was at her door.

  “Macy.”

  Her heart sank as she saw her mother standing on the threshold.

  “Hey, Grandmother.”

  “Hello, Grandmother, is how you address me, William.”

  Taller than her daughter, Delany Reynolds was a woman who believed herself a step above everyone else. Always immaculately dressed, she usually looked as if she'd stepped out of some fashion magazine. Her hair was blonde, which Macy knew was from a bottle, because in the normal course of ageing she would be gray by now. Around her neck was an ice-blue scarf, because she hated the wrinkles on her neck to be seen by anyone. Her face was smooth and tight from a recent face-lift. Her eyes were brown, and she never smiled, not naturally at least. It was more a forced effort that flashed her porcelain veneers.

  “Hello, Mother, what can I do for you?”

  “You can let me inside, and not conduct a conversation on your doorstep.”

  “Billy, let your grandmother in, and then go to your room and get ready.”

  Billy threw her a look, and she knew he liked his grandmother about as much as Macy did, because he flashed her a knowing smile and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him to the stairs.

  “You need to teach that boy manners, Macy. He did not excuse himself from my company.”

  “This is my house, Mother. He does what I tell him to do here.”

  Macy would have once been cowed by her mother, but not anymore. That was another part of the transformation of Macy Reynolds. She moved to one side and let her mother precede her into the living room.

  Her home was large and sterile, and Macy hated it. She hadn't bothered to change anything other than one wall, even though her friends had urged her to, because no amount of paint could disguise how ugly it was. Unfortunately, other than her mother, no one else liked the place enough to buy it, so for now, she had to stay here. She'd shut off rooms, and tried to make the ones she and Billy lived in comfortable, but it was still his home. Brian Delray’s palace.

  “What have you done to that wall?”

  Delany Reynolds looked in horror at the yellow wall she and Newman had painted. He'd urged her to try, and she had, but the house felt the same after so she hadn't done anything else.

  “You may have to live here, Macy, but damned if you have to keep it exactly as it was when that bastard was around” had been Newman's words.

  “I painted it, Mother. Do you like it?”

  “I do not. It's a disgrace. This is the best house in Howling, and you should take pride in it.”

  “Just as well you don't live here then, because I have dirty laundry all over my bedroom floor. I’m not even sure I’ve made my bed yet.” She didn't back down to her mother now. Jillian had told her not to, but it was hard. She'd always been intimidated by Delany Reynolds, plus she was her mother, and therefore deserved some respect. “Now what was the reason for you visit, Mother?”

  “Is it not bad enough that I have suffered the humiliation of this business with Brian, and my own daughter starting a shop in the main street, I have to see this, in the house that Brian decorated perfectly.”

  And just like that the leash on her temper slipped.

  “Would that be the same man who beat and raped me. The same man who shot Branna McBride?”

  Delany sniffed and lifted her nose in the air. They'd had this particular conversation in many different forms over the last four years. Each one had left her raw and disbelieving. How could her own mother blame her for what was clearly not her fault but that of a madman?

  “Branna McBride is a bad influence on you, daughter, as are the rest of that rabble. Why look at you.” She waved a hand at Macy. “Your hair is too long and not styled, your clothes terrible, and your face almost bare.”

  “What do you want, Mother?” Macy snapped the words. She would not bother defending herself, she had tried and failed many times.

  “I want you to check in on your father later, as I have to go to bridge and the doctor called and said his condition was worsening.”

  “And you could not have told me this by phone? Isn’t this your half day looking after dad so Helen can take a break?”

  “Helen is staying until I return, and I needed to run some errands. Besides, she is paid to care for him.”

  “I cannot believe you are so cold and unfeeling.”

  “You would never had spoken to me like that before. It’s the influence of your friends.”

  “No.” Macy gritted her teeth. “It’s finally realizing that I actually want to have people like me.”

  “I have no time for your theatrics, Macy. Just see that you visit your father.”

  Delany Reynolds then sailed from the room, leaving a trail of scent that Macy loathed. Her mother had worn it for as long as she could remember.

  Feeling like a tree ravaged by wind after the encounter, Macy headed to the stairs to pack some things to take to Annabelle and Ethan’s. They were having their friends over to celebrate their wedding, and she was looking forward to it.

  Buster was waiting in her lounge when she came back downstairs carrying Billy’s bag.

  “Hey, you.”

  “You all ready to go?”

  “I can drive myself there, Buster.”

  Her friend wore shorts, a checkered short-sleeved shirt that had the collar turned in, and worn sneakers. His hair was short and spiky and he looked like he’d stepped out of bed in those clothes and kept walking.

  “You run that outfit past Willow before you left the house?”

  “I can dress myself, so don’t get all smart-mouthed on me.”

  “Aha, sure you can.”

  “Get moving, we haven’t got all day.”

  “It’s early, aren’t we meant to be there for lunch?”

  “I know it, but I’m lonely because Willow has been gone all day and won’t get to the party until later.”

  Macy looked at her watch.

  “It’s eleven, Buster. How long could she possibly have been gone?”

  “Hours.”

  They both turned as Billy came running down the stairs.

  “Hey, Buster.”

  “Billy boy, how you doing today. Your tummy ready for more cake?”

  “Buster,” Macy warned her friend. Everyone tended to spoil her son if she didn’t watch them.

  “It’s a celebration, Macy. Have mercy.”

  As he followed those words with a wink, she simply rolled her eyes.

  “Let’s go then, but we’re taking my car.”

  “The hell you say!”

  “I want to go in Buster’s car,” Billy said.

  She gave up and minutes later Buster was pulling his old Jeep out of her drive. The music was up and he was singing off-key, with Billy accompanying him.

  “Is this your apple bran muffin recipe?” Macy peeled a sticky note off the dash. “I want this.”

  “Put that back.”

  Buster’s car was a mobile storage unit for his café. Implements, notes, recipe books, and whatever else he had thrown in there and never taken out filled the space.

  “Why are we stopping at Cubby’s?”

  “I said I’d pick up Katie because Cub can’t get there till later. Something about some idiot flipping his boat. Everyone’s okay, but he needs to sort some paperwork.”

  Cubby and Katie were still living in the front house of his mother’s property while their house was being built further around the lake.

  “Katie, get your sweet butt out here!” Buster roared out the window.

  Seconds later, the tall, long-legged woman came out. Her shorts were short, and Macy sighed. She’d never have legs like that, unless she had a g
rowth spurt at twenty-seven.

  “Oh goodie, I get to sit next to the most handsome boy in Howling.”

  “Sure do, and he’s hungry so strap in,” Buster said.

  The air was warm, and the day a continuation of yesterday, with plenty of tourists buzzing around and the lake filled with people skiing, kayaking, or swimming.

  “It’s a horrible place to live, but someone’s got to, I guess.”

  Macy laughed at Katie’s words. Why would she want more than this? Friends, her boy, and a life here in Howling. Brad Gelderman slipped into her head, and she pushed him away. He was probably long gone now, and she had to be pleased about that, didn’t she?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “So, let me get a read on this,” Ethan said. “You own property that you let people rent for cheap.”

  “There's a bit more to it than that,” Brad said. “I'm involved with a group of businessmen. We invest in property, and a percentage of any return we make has to go on housing for those who need help.”

  They'd been talking at Brad for the better part of an hour. The questions were not fired at him, or invasive, but gentle and persuasive, and Brad, for the most, was trying to answer them. He was doing this for Annabelle—and maybe himself and Ethan, but he wasn’t ready to admit that yet.

  “A genuine Robin Hood.”

  He found a smile for Newman.

  “Nope, we all have enough money, so we're helping out those that don't.”

  “How'd you fall into something like that?”

  Brad shrugged, unsure whether he wanted to go there yet. The story of how he’d met his friends was not a pretty one.

  “Just say it quickly, Brad,” Annabelle coaxed him.

  “In the normal course of my day, I don’t speak that much,” Brad said. “In fact, I’ve probably used up a week’s worth of words today.”

  “To be fair, you were never a big talker.”

  “If I remember right, none of us were.”

  Ethan nodded, and Brad knew that like him, he was remembering how it had been.

  “I met Mark in a bar two months after I left home,” Brad said slowly. “He found me in an ally puking my guts out, and helped me back to the motel I was staying in. To my surprise he came back the following day and took me out for a meal.”