Remnants of the Heart (Winds of Change Book 3)

by Kristen M. Fraser

  Brad cradled his head in his hands, lightly tugging at his hair just enough to feel the needle of pain across his scalp. How on earth was he going to pay his employees and suppliers in the coming months?

  The contract he’d won with the council, redeveloping the site and constructing the new landscape for the youth centre, had been a huge opportunity for him. One that he’d hoped would boost his profile and bring in more work. But since completion, months of bad weather had hindered opportunities, and work had slowed down as people also shifted their allegiance to the home handyman and yard maintenance franchises to meet their needs. It seemed every vehicle he passed was a self-starter Dad-type, happy to do odd jobs at a much cheaper rate than what he could afford to charge. People were happy to opt for the second-rate guy if it meant they had more money in their pockets at the end of the day. In turn, it meant his business, the one thing he’d poured his whole heart and soul into and had dedicated the past decade of his life building, was floundering. At best.

  He flopped against the seat, tapping a pen on the assortment of papers covering the desk as he mulled over where to start. The jobs coming in wouldn’t be enough to cover what he owed his suppliers. He’d already delayed payment with one company, and he couldn’t keep fobbing them off. The thought of laying off any of the guys didn’t sit well. They were all young, enthusiastic and hard workers. A difficult combination to find at the best of times. But perhaps he needed to look at layoffs as an option because his outgoing expenses were far outweighing his incoming.

  With a sigh, he grabbed the phone and punched in the numbers for the first supplier on his list. It was time to swallow his pride.

  “Marty. It’s Brad Tolbrook.” He made small talk with the owner of the equipment hire place before asking about his business. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he steeled himself for what he was about to do. “Listen, mate. I’m going to have to ask a favour. I’ve got some outstanding invoices, and I’m waiting for some payments to come in. Would you mind if I delayed yours by fourteen days?” He hoped that was enough time to gather enough cash to cover the outstanding debts. If not, he’d have to try and think of another solution.

  “Can you make it ten?” Marty asked. “Things are a bit tight on my end, too. You know how it is at the moment.”

  “Yep.” Boy, did he ever. He did a quick mental calculation. If he shuffled a few payments around, he should be able to pay Marty within that time. “I’ll let you know if there are any changes. Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem, Brad. I hope business improves soon.”

  So did he. If it didn’t … He didn’t even want to think that far ahead. Perhaps he was in denial about how bad things were getting and that’s what had landed him in this mess to begin with.

  A flash of yellow caught his eye as he shuffled the papers on his desk. He pulled out the slip of gloss paper. Grief counselling was splashed across the top in bold white letters. Strands of green ivy and a photo of hands cupping a flower decorated the flyer. The address and phone number for the hospital were printed at the bottom. How on earth had it ended up on his desk? He recalled pulling it off his windscreen and it must’ve gotten caught up in his book work.

  Grief counselling. Please. Who advertised grief counselling? He’d understand if it was a community fair or a buy-one-get-one-free from the local tyre shop. But grief counselling?

  Strange that it had ended up on his desk when he was sure he’d tossed it on the floor. He balled the flyer up, this time ensuring it ended up in the trash, and tried to push aside the frustration that he couldn’t call his dad to discuss his business woes.

  He supposed he could call his mum or stepfather. But he wasn’t that close to Damien. They’d had a few chats here and there, but it wasn’t the same as talking with his father. And Brad wasn’t comfortable asking for help or discussing his business failings with him just yet.

  Mum and Damien would only tell him to pray about it. Prayer. What good was it when all it felt like was verbalising a wish list to someone in the hopes that it might come true? All the prayer in the world hadn’t saved his father from dying. If it hadn’t worked for someone who’d dedicated his whole life to God, what chance did he have?

  He wondered if it was too late to meet up with the guys from work for that drink. Drowning his sorrows sounded like a good idea after all.

  Chapter 5

  Brad woke to the sound of the beeps and whirrs of a fax machine piercing his brain. He peeled his eyes open and fumbled on the nightstand for his phone. His ringtone always garnered a few chuckles from his colleagues. Rubbing a hand over his face, he mumbled hello.

  “Did I wake you?”

  Sophie. Why was his sister calling so early?

  “What do you think?” he mumbled through a mouthful of what felt like cotton wool coating his tongue.

  “Sorry. It’s ten o’clock. I figured most of the east coast would be awake by now.”

  Ten? Sheesh. Brad tossed back the covers and flung open the curtains, squinting against the bright light streaming into his room and penetrating his retinas. He hadn’t meant to sleep in. Given his line of work, he was an early riser. His lie-ins never went past seven. This morning’s efforts were the result of too many beers imbibed after arriving home from the office the previous evening. It had become a semi-regular routine. Drinking himself to oblivion so he didn’t have to think about anything.

  “What’s up, Soph?” He stumbled to his dresser and pulled a t-shirt and pair of shorts from the drawers. The movement sent jolts of pain through his head, and he winced as Sophie chattered nonstop about everything going on in her life. Her work at the hospital. Her study. Her new boyfriend – a different one from the one she’d taken to their mother’s wedding the previous month. She had the gift of the gab and would often call for the sake of it. Like now. He didn’t mind chatting with her, but not now when all he wanted to do was down a couple of painkillers and go back to bed.

  “Have you been drinking again?” Her voice lowered, and he had to give kudos to her impeccable observation skills.

  “Only a few.”

  Her sigh of disappointment scraped over him. “Brad.”

  One simple word, yet it made him feel like scum. There were three women in his life, and they all hen-pecked him. Expected more from him. Had wanted him to be the man of the family now that their father had passed, but he’d failed to live up to that expectation.

  “Are you calling for a chat or are you calling to pass judgement?” He pulled back the curtains in the living room and eyed the glimpse of the ocean between the houses across the road. He loved his house. It was one thing he’d done well - saved a deposit to buy the house set two streets back from the water. It was his haven. The one place where no one judged him. No one expected anything from him. He had free reign and no one to answer to.

  “I’m worried about you, that’s all.” Sophie’s voice softened, and it was obvious why she was a great nurse. She naturally cared for people. Her soothing tones made anyone feel at ease, which was probably why he was closer to her than he was to Abigail, who was all about fixing things and making things right so that life could go on. She didn’t seem to understand him as Sophie did.

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  Sophie’s laughter bubbled down the phone. “That’s my line,” she said. “Don’t you know women always say ‘fine’ when there’s something wrong?”

  A growl welled in his throat, but before he could say anything, Sophie spoke again. “Maybe you need to talk to someone, Brad. About Dad’s death. About whatever’s going on. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hungover. You were even drunk at Mum’s wedding. It seems to be becoming a regular thing. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”

  There was some truth to his sister’s words, but he wasn’t about to admit it. He’d deal with things in his own time and in his way. When he was ready. What good would talking to someone do, anyway? He was fine. A few drinks now and then didn’t hurt anyone.


  “Listen, there’s a number I can get for someone to talk to at the hospital. Why don’t you check it out?”

  “I don’t need AA, and I don’t need a shrink,” Brad fired back, kicking an empty beer can across the living room floor. It bounced off the skirting board and splashed some dregs of stale beer onto the wall. “And I wish you and Abby would get off my back!”

  “Brad …”

  “Don’t, Soph,” he warned. “I’ve just got some stuff going on that I need to deal with. I’ll be fine.”

  He hung up before she could coddle him any more. He was tired of the women in his life trying to interfere. Trying to make amends. Trying to make him something he wasn’t. He’d broken up with Laura Hermanson, his on-off girlfriend for two years, for the same reason. Life had dimmed since his father had died, and no amount of coaxing, sweet-talking or intimacy could brighten his life. If only people would realise that and leave him alone.

  Chapter 6

  “Alright guys, we’ve got to dig up the old turf and mark out the new garden, including the water feature before the new turf is delivered tomorrow.” Brad checked over the blueprints of the new design for Liberty House that were spread across the fold-down tray of his Toyota. Mitchell and Justin flanked him and nodded in unison as Brad gave instructions.

  “I’ve got some phone calls to make, but if you can make a start, that would be great.” Brad rolled up the plans while the other guys hauled the equipment out of his ute. They set to work, taping off the entire lawn space, and soon the engine of the turf cutter sliced through the air as Justin set to work on the lawn.

  Brad stood at the kerb in the open passenger door with his diary and invoice book open on the seat. He called one supplier to request a delay in payment and then spoke to another company to book a small job.

  “Hey!” A woman’s voice snagged his attention, and he turned to see a brunette jogging down the front steps of the building. Her hair hung in waves around her shoulders and she wore a crisp white blouse with slim-fitting black pants. She headed toward Justin, waving her hands to gain his attention. Silence filled the air as the turf cutter died. Justin removed his earmuffs. The woman stood with one hand on her hip and gestured toward the lawn with the other while she spoke to him.

  Ending the phone conversation, Brad strode over. “What’s the problem?” His steps faltered as he locked eyes with the familiar woman. It had been dark the last time he’d seen her. Her hair had been in a loose ponytail and her clothes had been dishevelled. But he couldn’t forget the colour of her eyes. Vivid forest green. The woman he’d given a lift to. What was her name, again? Helen?

  Recognition dawned in her eyes, and her face lit up at the sight of him. “Oh, hi. Brad, right?”

  He nodded, and a flare of pleasure raced through him that she’d remembered his name. Hannah. Yes, he was certain it was Hannah. “Hannah. How are you?”

  “Good, thanks.” She nodded. “I’m just not sure what’s going on here. Barbara told me you’d be here next week. I’m currently with a client, but I heard the noise.” Her voice was gentle with no hint of admonishment, yet his stomach sank.

  “I’m so sorry, but I’ve got it booked in for today.” He held up a finger before darting back to the ute. He grabbed his diary and returned. “See, here.” He showed her the details of the booking he’d taken from Barbara a few weeks ago.

  Hannah frowned, tapping a slender finger against her chin. “Barbara gave me a different date. Give me a moment.”

  Brad watched as she jogged across the lawn, her slim legs eating up the ground in a few easy strides.

  “What do you want us to do, boss?” Mitchell pulled his gloves off and leaned on the handle of the shovel.

  “Just wait a moment.”

  Hannah soon returned, waving a piece of paper in the air. “Here.” She handed it to Brad and stepped back. “Our receptionist is away today as well, otherwise I’d ask her.”

  Brad glanced over the paper, and sure enough, the quote stated the twenty-third. Next Wednesday. He couldn’t argue with his handwriting. How had he messed up? How did he write the wrong date in his scheduling diary? How did he miss an entire week? Was he losing his mind completely? He hadn’t been drinking that much, had he?

  “I’m very sorry,” he said, handing the slip of paper back to Hannah. Man, he felt like a fool. What kind of image was he portraying for his business? “I obviously can’t read a calendar.” He chuckled to allay the awkwardness.

  “I’m hopeless with dates at the moment, too.” Hannah grinned. “I just wasn’t sure what was going on. Barbara got called away for the week and has left me here on my own, with Lexie’s help. And of course, she’s not here today.”

  “Wow. Talk about being thrown in the deep end,” Brad said.

  “I know. Which is why I was so confused when I heard that machine.” She gestured to where Justin was standing with the turf cutter. “I feel bad now that you’ve set up. Perhaps you could come back Monday if you’ve got nothing booked? There’ll be no clients here then. And I’ll check with Barbara to make sure she’s agreeable to that.”

  Brad nodded. He had nothing booked for Monday. Now he’d have to send the guys home and lose money because he’d gotten his dates mucked up. He gestured for Justin and Mitchell to pack up. “Is it going to be a problem that the lawn’s taped off and this part is already ripped up? It doesn’t add street appeal or professionalism to your place.” He cringed, eyeing the mess of dirt and clumps of grass.

  Brown hair lifted on the breeze as Hannah turned and eyed the front of Liberty House. “It’s totally fine. It’s all taped off, and I’m sure people can put two and two together and realise there’s some work going on.”

  Tucking the diary under his arm, Brad held out his hand. “Thanks for being so understanding.” Not many people would be quite so gracious.

  “No problem at all.” Hannah smiled, and her face radiated like sunshine lighting up the darkest of nights. He felt the warmth from her touch to his toes, and he stepped back, swallowing hard as he fumbled with his diary.

  “See you in a few days,” he croaked, before clearing his throat. What on earth was wrong with him? Why was this woman affecting him so much?

  “You will indeed.” Hannah gave one last smile before she waved goodbye to the other guys and returned to the clinic.

  “Good one, boss,” Mitchell called from his position in the back of the ute as Jackson tossed some tools up to him to pack away.

  “Sorry, guys.” Brad strode over to them. “I don’t know how I mucked that up.”

  “Maybe you’re stressed,” Justin said. “Maybe you need to come out with us a bit more and let loose a little. Ease some of that tension out of your shoulders.”

  “Turn that frown upside down.” Mitchell drew a smile in the air.

  Brad soon found himself laughing along with the guys as they teased him about getting old and forgetful. He was stressed alright. But he didn’t want the guys to be worried about him. It was his problem to sort out. He tossed the books onto the passenger seat and shut the door. “Why don’t you both take the rest of the day off? Hit the beach. Go see your girlfriends. In fact, take the rest of the week off until I see you back here on Monday.”

  “You sure? You don’t need us anywhere else?” Mitchell asked, jumping down.

  “I’m sure.” Brad folded his arms, trying his best to remain upbeat and school his features to not show disappointment in himself. Truth was, he had no other work lined up for the week. The guys probably didn’t care too much and would no doubt appreciate the free time to do whatever they wanted to do. But, he didn’t want to be that boss. The one who promised work and then had to rescind because he couldn’t live up to his word.

  “Thanks, boss.” Mitchell and Justin fist-bumped each other before they headed to their vehicles parked further up the road.

  Brad wondered if he should go and apologise to Hannah again, but then he remembered she had a client. He took one last look at the mess
they’d made of the lawn before climbing into his ute. Gosh, he was an idiot. So much for trying to give his company a good name. Or himself for that matter. Not that he was trying to impress the attractive brunette. Still, the vividness of her smile sent a rush of warmth through him, and he was looking forward to seeing her again when he could glimpse some more of her sunshine.

  Chapter 7

  Hannah smoothed over her black pants and drew a deep breath as the butterflies in her stomach failed to get the message to calm down. The first day of anything new was always difficult. She’d survived the first few days at the clinic without Barbara holding her hand, so surely the first day at the hospital wouldn’t be so bad either.

  To imagine going solo without Barbara had shocked her at first, but she soon fell into the routine of counselling the few clients she’d seen. She spent the rest of the time reading through files and familiarizing herself with the new clinic. She was thankful Barbara had cleared most of the schedule for the week, so she could take time to get to know the routine of the practice as well as focus on her new clients.

  Her low heels clicked on the concrete path as she made her way toward the hospital entrance, and she couldn’t help but smile about the mishap with the landscape company. She’d almost died when the awful noise had started up during the counselling session. As if it wasn’t already difficult enough for the client dealing with a new psychologist, but to have their session interrupted by the growl of what sounded like a lawnmower was the worst. The soft music playing in the clinic hadn’t been enough to distract them from the noise. And then she’d discovered the culprit to be none other than the guy who’d rescued her from the side of the road the previous weekend.

  Brad. With his dark hair, broad shoulders, and tanned skin from working in the sun, he was certainly easy on the eyes. But his eyes, a deep amber, didn’t quite light up when he smiled, and she sensed an underlying hurt. She wondered what the story was there. She had a knack for being able to see beyond the smiles people plastered on. It wasn’t a great trait to have at times; she’d been accused of psychoanalysing people, even when she was just being friendly. But it was her nature to be interested in people on a deeper level. To see beyond the surface and know the person beneath their façade, which suited her job perfectly. She wondered what Brad’s story was.