by Noelle Hart
Knowing Will would ask for an honest assessment, Jolene stopped hyperventilating and got a grip. “I'm not built like that Eileen. I'll give her a fair shake.” She paused while Lillian came out through the swinging doors. “But she better watch her step.”
*
Kylie's boss, Margie Farmer, endured almost daily jokes, puns and other spinoffs about her last name. In actual fact she really wasn't a farmer but a business woman. Her family owned and operated the Big Red Barn, the land and greenhouses that supplied it and other businesses on the island and mainland with fresh produce. If anyone deserved to receive the countless verbal jabs it was her brother who headed up the actual farming of their land.
She normally took it on the chin. Today however she was in no mood as Janie in accounting had called in sick with a summer cold and two of the Barn and gift shop workers had followed suit. So when the phone rang for the ninth time that morning with the caller singing his not funny renditions of Old McDonald Had a Farm and then Farmer in the Dell, replacing her name in crucial places, her back went up like a Hallowe'en cat.
“I can't make it any clearer sir,” she enunciated, gritting her teeth when the caller demanded to speak with Kylie Lambert, “she's not available.”
The anonymous caller had become more abusive with each call. “Why the fuck not? I know she's there, I saw her truck in the parking lot. So be a pal, little Miss Sunshine, and tell her I'll be waiting for her.”
“And who shall I tell her will be waiting?”
“She'll know.”
I'll bet. Without answering Margie replaced the handset and thought, this is the bastard who'd tried to re-arrange Kylie's face. A mother hen, she was protective of her staff, and especially of Kylie who was her most efficient and reliable worker.
She went to the main greenhouse where Kylie and her crew were harvesting plum tomatoes for that afternoon's delivery to the restaurant circuit. Organically grown and fresh off the vine, they were their biggest sellers.
“Take a break,” said Margie. They walked outside into the stark midday light and sat down on overturned crates.
“What's up?” asked Kylie.
Margie noted that the bruise on Kylie's cheek had begun to fade. “Your guy,” she began, “is a very rude individual. I didn't ask what went down between the two of you out of respect to your privacy, but now I am.”
“Why? Did something....”
“Yes. Nine times. He's been calling all morning and singing farm songs for pete’s sake, obviously to get my goat. I don't appreciate getting dragged into domestic disputes but since it's you, I'm concerned. You're not still seeing this guy, are you?”
Kylie's heart sank into her already nauseous stomach. She'd woken with morning sickness and had barely gotten it under control by eating crackers and sipping ginger ale. Now what little contents were there threatened to come back up.
She mopped her face with a bandana and then slumped with the weight of it all. “I stopped seeing him the instant he decided the best way to get his message across was with the back of his hand. I literally ran away. He's been harassing me ever since.”
“You could get a restraining order.”
“I don't have a lawyer.”
“I know someone. But how about you give me some background here? I'm not trying to pry, but this doesn't seem like a healthy situation for you. He said he'll be waiting for you outside when you're done.”
“This is beyond a nightmare.” Unsure whether to proceed, she decided what the heck, it was going to come out sooner or later. “I'm sorry you've been involved, Margie. He's a nut case. And I'm afraid I'm carrying that nut case's baby.”
Margie stared. Blinked. Then found her voice. “Oh joy. You'd best spill everything, my dear.”
Kylie gave her the abbreviated rendition from becoming pregnant to finding out that Drew had a violent streak. When she told her she planned to keep the baby, to Margie's credit she absorbed it all without judgment.
“So the last time you saw him was in the grocery store and he bit your ear?”
Kylie pushed aside her hair, showed Margie the red teeth marks on her lobe.
“Ouch. This jerk's a real gem. Listen, one of my regular customers is a retired R.C.M.P. His sons own and operate Top Gun Security. They wired this place with surveillance equipment and set us up with night watchmen. Thanks to them we've thwarted several attempts to break in over the years, so I know they're good. You should consider vamping up the security in your apartment. But more important, I'd like to have Brad come over at closing time and have a little talk with this Drew. Does that sound okay?”
The name rang a bell but she couldn't hone in on it. She felt the throb of a threatening headache pulse at her temple. “What if it incites him to further heights of terrorizing me? He does love a challenge.”
“It will show him we have a united front here at work. You need to be able to come and go in peace. I'm going to block his phone number and I suggest you do the same.”
“Already done.”
“Good. Let's discuss maternity leave. When are you due?”
“In March. I was hoping to work up until my water breaks. I really need the money, especially now.”
“You should take off at least ten days before your due date. We'll cover your maternity leave. Can't have you popping out a baby on our mulch beds now, can we? And speaking of which, no more heavy lifting for you. You've got some hefty wielders on your crew; leave it up to them.”
Kylie appreciated Margie's input. “There's something else I've been meaning to discuss with you and before you make a comment, I'd like you to hear me out all the way.”
“I'm all ears.”
Kylie took a deep breath. “Drew's mother has lived a life of tyranny by way of his father. Nowadays she divides her time between gardening and drinking, the latter of which I feel she could overcome given an incentive. Margie, she's a sweet woman with a helluva green thumb. Her place is a showcase, a miniature Butchart Gardens, and that's no stretch. I think she'd make a wonderful Barn clerk. Problem is, she's afraid to work because her control freak husband won't allow it. I'd like to turn her around, get her to stand up for herself. Otherwise she might drink herself into an early grave. She has something to offer us and we can offer her something in return.”
To Marge's credit she'd refrained from comment throughout Kylie's pitch. Now she smiled warmly. “Are you trying to rescue her?”
“Well I... I guess I am.”
Marge slung an arm around Kylie's shoulder. “That's what I love about you. Here you are in a horrific dilemma with a man who is violent and stalking you, and you want to save his mother.”
“She may not know it herself yet, but she wants to be saved. She's walking a fine line and could fall either way. Our way has a soft landing.”
“Dearie, if you can convince her to give it a try, I'll trust your judgment. Least I can do for my favorite employee.”
“Thank you so much Margie. And yes, please ask your R.C.M.P. friend to come and have a chat with Drew. Time for me to take a stand.”
“That's my girl.”
*
The day got hectic when three new orders came in with Kylie's crew rushing to meet them before closing time. The trucks loaded with crates for delivery, none of which she'd lifted, Kylie all but forgot that Marge's R.C.M.P. pal would be waiting.
A familiar face greeted her as he leaned against her truck. It was the man who had come to her aid when she'd gotten a flat outside Drew's apartment. The night she'd gotten pregnant. If this wasn't irony, then what was? Wear a jacket he'd told her. If only she'd insisted that Drew wear a condom from the get-go.
Brad straightened at her approach and registered the same surprise she felt. “Kylie Lambert, damsel in distress! Thought I recognized this vehicle. When Margie called I had no idea I'd be doing a repeat rescue operation.”
Kylie scanned the parking area. Drew's car idled softly near the exit.
His eyes followed hers. “That joke
r pulled in and got a tire iron out of his trunk. I put a stop to whatever he had in mind by standing guard. Margie filled me in somewhat. In my books, when a guy smacks a woman he loses his right to see her if that's what she wants. I've seen a lot of cases in my career where women end up crying wolf, bringing in the law when they fight with their boyfriends and then kissing and making up later on. So I need to know, are you serious when you say you don't want anything to do with this yokel?”
“You might as well know that I'm pregnant with the yokel's child. He's got a hair-trigger temper and is determined to get his way, although I can only imagine what that is right now.”
“I can see by your face that you've already had a sample of what his way is. You go on home now. I'll see that he doesn't follow.”
* * * *
CHAPTER TEN
Drew fidgeted in his car. His vague plan to force Kylie to listen to him by threatening to trash her truck had fizzled thanks to the dude she was talking to right now.
Who the hell was he?
His knuckles turned white as he gripped the wheel, watching Kylie speak earnestly to this jerk. Was he hitting on her? Kind of long in the tooth for that but he'd seen worse. Old dogs sniffing around young skirts. It was sick really.
He should take his tire iron to the old coot. Teach him a lesson. The idea of it made his fingers twitch, made them want to take a swing at someone.
The intensity of that cold, dark desire washed over him, and with closed eyes he relished it. Then for one blinding moment came a flash of clarity and he knew his mind was tumbling down a slippery slope. Lasting just a second, the walls of insight closed in, enveloping him again in murky delusions. Kylie would be his. That was his baby in her belly and he'd be damned if someone else would lay a claim on either of them. If she couldn't see that then he'd have to show her how determined he could be.
He recalled the look of sheer astonishment on her face when he'd struck her. Eyes wide with shock, and for a split second, fear.
Delicious, cowering, fear.
And then she'd run. He'd tried to find her, explain that it had been a knee-jerk reaction, nothing more. That he hadn't intended to hit her. But then she'd asked for it, hadn't she? Telling his parents that she didn't love him, had no intention of marrying him, baby or not. She'd humiliated him!
Another brief flash of clarity tore through his brain. He tried to hold on to it but contradictions and muddled emotions tumbled over one another. With the two sides of his psyche warring with one another, the dark overshadowed and smothered the light.
Kylie was getting in her truck. Now the older man turned and faced Drew's car head on. When he tried to drive around him he stepped into the convertible's path.
So that was it. He was her defense. Probably some kind of rent-a-cop. Drew drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and fought an urge to mow the man down. He spotted movement in his rear view mirror as employees poured out in search of their vehicles.
Suddenly the man was at his window, tapping.
Drew lowered it. “What's up old man?” Up close he looked weathered but fit, the thick hand resting on Drew's door capable.
“Please step out of your vehicle Mr. Hammond. I'd like a word with you.”
“Not fair. You know my name but I don't know yours.”
Brad handed him a card from his time with the R.C.M.P.
“You're a cop?”
“Retired. Please Mr. Hammond, this will only take a minute.”
It was curiosity that had Drew climbing out of his car. Face to face, the ex cop towered over him by a good six inches.
“Mr. Hammond,” began Brad, “I understand you've laid hands on Kylie Lambert, an employee here.”
Drew's laugh was sour. “You some kind of body guard? I have a right to see her. She's pregnant with my kid.”
“Let me fill in some blanks for you Mr. Hammond. As an unproven father of the child, you have no rights whatsoever to be near Miss Lambert if she so desires. And believe me, she desires.”
“Unproven?” Drew choked out. “I fucked her, I got her pregnant, and I intend to do right by the child and marry her. Is that so hard to understand?”
Drew's choice of words did nothing to phase Brad. He'd heard it all and then some. That Drew was strutting like a peacock about it brought him a measure of disgust. Throughout his career he'd heard woman beaters spout off all kinds of excuses and rationales and Drew Hammond was no exception. Getting through to these cocky bastards was a monumental challenge that didn't always pan out for the women in their lives. Sometimes those women ended up dead. This situation was still salvageable, and as a favor to Margie and an even bigger one to Kylie, he had every intention of cooling off this hothead before he did something really stupid.
Brad took Drew's measure. He knew this type; they got a kick out of keeping a woman under their thumb. Made them feel superior, gave them a rush that was better than sex. Drew Hammond had a violence in him that simmered just under the surface. Too bad he'd chosen to take it out on a woman instead of a punching bag in a gym somewhere.
“Miss Lambert only wants to be left alone. This establishment is private property. You cannot seek her out here.”
“Miss Lambert needs to hear me out.”
“Clearly she wants her privacy. You remember that old saying about letting things you love go?”
“Is that your poetic way of telling me she'll take me back if I just leave her alone?”
“Well, there's no guarantee of that but it's certainly a better approach. A mature approach, don't you think?”
“You calling me immature?”
“I'm saying you need to re-think your actions, because they always have consequences.”
“Like having sex might end up in pregnancy? FYI, Kylie didn't exactly fight me off in the heat of the moment. She liked getting it plenty.”
Peacock, rooster, whatever. “How it happened is entirely none of my business. But it is my business to make sure you honor Kylie's wish to be left alone.”
“Oh yeah? What's your deal with her anyway? Thinking of getting a little action yourself there?”
This guy really was a piece of work. “I'm a happily married man with a daughter about Kylie's age. I wouldn't want to see Kylie get hurt any more than my own flesh and blood. So you can take that comment and shove it where the sun don't shine. Got that?”
The menace in Brad's eyes had Drew wishing he had the tire iron in his hand, glad that he didn't.
“Whatever happens between Kylie and me is out of your hands. So why don't you just go fuck yourself, old man.”
Brad watched Drew's quick retreat. Just as well, because it had saved him from ending up on the wrong side of Brad's fist.
*
The evening was gorgeous, one of those long summer sunsets that paint the sky an array of electric hues. This was one of Kylie's favorite times of day and after a light jog through Beacon Hill Park she came out to Dallas Road and the waterfront, where a tall totem stood watch over a grassy knoll. She plunked herself down on a bench to retie her shoelace and watch the sun dip into the horizon.
Bobbing her head to her blasting iPod, Will Delaney stepped into her line of sight. Sweat stained his sweatshirt at the armpits and formed a dark line down his spine as he came to a halt and bent over to catch his breath.
“Hey,” he managed as Kylie took out her ear buds.
“Right back at ya.” She watched as a young boy in a Vancouver Canucks cap came running up with ease and slapped Will on the butt.
“Hey!” Will yelped, then laughed. To Kylie, “You must think I have a very limited vocabulary.”
She giggled, thinking, oh my God, did I just giggle? That was so unlike her. There was something about Will Delaney that brought out her girly feminine side.
“Kylie, this is my son Max. Max, meet my friend Kylie Lambert.”
Max held out his hand, his shake solid. “Hi. What happened to your face? Did you get in an accident?”
“Max! That's n
ot very polite,” reprimanded Will, “and it's none of your business.”
Kylie ran a hand over her cheek. The deep bruise had risen to the surface and gone through its many rainbow hues leaving only traces of pinkish yellow. Still noticeable however, she realized.
“It's okay Will. He's got a healthy curiosity. I did have an accident Max. I ran into the back of someone's hand.”
Max's eyes grew huge. “You mean, like somebody hit you?”
“That's right.” She didn't want to lie but she could tweak the truth a little. “It's getting better and I won't make that same mistake again.”
Puzzled, Max wanted details. “But...”
“And that's all you need to know,” Will ran interference. “It's a helluva sunset out here,” he added, changing the subject. “Don't see many like this. Max and I are headed for the petting zoo. Care to join us?”
“Aren't they closed by this time of day?”
“Probably, but you can still see some of the animals over the fence. Goats, a warthog I think, or maybe it's a pig. Couple of llamas.”
“Sounds exotic. Let's go.”
They walked now, enjoying the first stars of the evening as the sun sizzled, then disappeared. Twilight intensified, purplish blues staining the sky in preparation for the moonrise.
Max bounced alongside his Dad as they made their way into the deep shadows of the park.
“You run here often?” Will asked Kylie.
“As often as I can. I try to pick a different route to keep it interesting. How about you?”
“Usually don't make it this far on foot so I figured I'd drive down, do my run here and explore the park a little with Max.”
“Aren't you needed at the diner?”
“The staff knows what they're doing.” He extracted his cell phone from a pocket. “I'm always reachable in case of a crisis.”
“Ah. What's considered a crisis?”
