A Long Way Home (A Lake Howling Novel Book 6)

by Wendy Vella

  “Back for long?”

  “No.”

  “You got a problem in general, or just with me?”

  That had her looking at him. He was smiling, a small confused one. And she felt a wash of shame.

  “No problem. Sorry.” She made herself smile, more a lip curl, but surely she’d get points for effort. “I’m not good with people.”

  The smile widened and added a whole new level of handsome to his face.

  “Never easy in a world filled with them.”

  She snuffled.

  “The trick is to learn to project a pleasant facade, Hope. It’s how I get through.”

  “You?” She snorted this time. “I can’t imagine you having trouble with people.”

  “You’d be surprised. I was a real asshole for a while there, and I wasn’t good with people either. But I learned that life is a great deal easier if you at least look pleasant, even if inside you’re wanting to punch someone.”

  “Ah, sure.”

  “Here it is.” Macy appeared, and the smile on Brad’s face widened. She saw the love then, turned to Macy, and saw it returned. She refused to acknowledge the pain in her chest that no one had ever looked at her that way. Jay had, but she now knew that was a lie.

  “You keep this, Hope.” Macy held out a key ring to her. “And if you want to stay there, all good. Or if you just need a place for some solitude then it’s yours too. After all, can’t imagine it’s easy being home with your mom again. I know I could never live with mine.”

  “Who’s her mom?” Brad asked.

  “Ms. Lawrence.”

  Hope found her first genuine smile at the horrified look on Brad’s face. He quickly changed it, but she’d seen it.

  “Sorry, I meant no disrespect. Your mother is just…”

  “Awkward, belligerent, and downright terrifying?” Hope filled in the gap.

  Macy giggled.

  “I’d never say that about someone’s mother, especially if that someone was standing before me,” Brad declared.

  “I don’t need your keys, Macy. Really.”

  “Yes, you do.” Macy took Hope’s hand and placed the keys inside. “And the reason you’re taking them is part payment for the catalogue you’re going to shoot for me while you’re here.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re not working, and a whizz with that thing around your neck, so why not?”

  Hope searched for a reason, but her mind didn’t seem to be working with its usual accuracy.

  “I—ah, I don’t usually take photos of people.”

  “People, animals.” Macy waved a hand about. “It’s all the same.”

  “I’m telling them you compared them to animals,” Brad drawled.

  “So what do you say?” Macy looked at Hope. “I’ll pay, and you can have the use of the cottage while you’re here.”

  Seconds later, Hope left the store with the key in her pocket, having agreed to shoot Macy’s spring catalogue.

  “What the hell?” she muttered. She’d forgotten that about this place. When you were a local, people just took it for granted that you wanted to do stuff for them, just as they did stuff for you.

  She needed to get another job and out of there soon, before she was booked up doing weddings, birthdays, and anything else that needed a photographer!

  CHAPTER NINE

  Hope stopped to read the notices on the Roar’s board. They had a new event happening this year. The Howling Boat Race. All materials used had to be recycled.

  “What the hell is it with you people,” Hope muttered. She’d never known a community that loved events quite like this place. They had the annual Winter Solstice Carnival, the Night Carnival, the Last Bake Out, and for the craziest among them, the Hot Foot Run. Now they were to have a Water Festival. Hope had no idea what that would encompass but hoped she was long gone before it happened. The date said three weeks, so she should be safe.

  “It’s going to be quite an event.”

  Hope turned at the Irish burr. She looked into the eyes of DJ O’Donnell, world-famous crime writer, and father to one Branna McBride, also a crime writer. Tall and lean, he had a friendly expression on his face and was still a handsome man.

  “Not sure we’ve met, but you’ve got the look of your mother. I’m Declan.”

  “Hello, I’m Hope Lawrence.”

  “Branna told me you were back. You come into town for supplies?”

  “My mother gave me a list.”

  “I have a list too, after speaking to my daughter on the phone.” His smile was the kind that had you responding even if you didn’t want to. “She also said she’d make me lunch if I picked the stuff up for her, and as that includes a cuddle with my granddaughter, I’d say I’m onto a good thing.”

  “Winning deal then,” Hope said. Project a pleasant facade, the Texan had said. Maybe she should give it a try while she was home, and people would leave her alone.

  “You coming inside? Mac’s got pretty much everything a person could need. Of course, there’s always the grocery store too.”

  Hope had the feeling she’d been failing him in some way if she went the way of the grocery store to get her things.

  “Ah, sure.”

  “Come on in then. With luck there’ll be some homemade lemonade ready.”

  Hope refused to say “ah, sure” again, so she silently followed him, unsure how she could do anything else. The scent hit her. She’d loved this place as a kid. Candles, chocolate, soaps, the scents all mingled to tantalize you.

  “How’s your mother?”

  “What?” She spun to face Mac Drubber. He looked the same, although perhaps a bit more grizzled. “Oh hey, Mr. Drubber.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Just Mac to you now, girl.”

  “Have I reached the age then?”

  “I’m Mr. Drubber between ten and twenty.”

  Hope surprised herself by laughing again. It sounded rusty and unfamiliar.

  “Okay, thanks, Mac.”

  “So your mom’s doing okay? Not driving you crazy yet?”

  “Only been back four days, Mac. Give her time.”

  “She’s a smart woman, that mother of yours. People just don’t read her right, is my opinion, if you’re asking.”

  She hadn’t been, but listened anyway.

  “She’s just not into the small talk and pleasantries that most in this town are. When she actually spends time talking one-on-one, she’s got some good stuff to say.”

  “Ah, sure.”

  Well now, this was just plain weird. Her mother was probably the least loved member of Lake Howling, and here was Mac championing her. Very odd, to her mind.

  “Any chance you’re using that thing around your neck for the greater good?” He pointed to her camera.

  “Pardon?” Hope was suddenly wary.

  “I need some updated photos for the store website. I’m getting into online sales. I’ll pay you.”

  “Not sure how long I’ll be here, Mac.”

  “Need work, don’t you?”

  Hope nodded. She did actually, because her mother didn’t have money to throw around and her being here had put pressure on the household budget.

  “Then you can take the photos, and I’ll pay you. A win for both of us.”

  “Sure sounds like it to me,” Declan said, until then standing quietly and listening.

  “Okay then,” Hope said, because she always found it hard to say no to people who had known her since she was in diapers. Respect is a bitch, she thought. Being raised here and by a mother who was a stickler for manners, they were ingrained in her.

  He smiled. Hope collected a basket, and walked down an aisle before someone else came in and asked her to take photos of their pet or baby. She looked at the notice pinned to the beam before her.

  “The boats have to be made from natural materials, and the one that makes it around the course Henrietta sets out, wins. Supposedly, it’s drawn a bit of interest from out-of-towners.”
Declan appeared at her side.

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Will be if I can beat Jake.”

  “What’s your boat made of?” Hope asked.

  He tapped his nose. “I can’t give away my secrets, in case you enter, Hope.”

  “That’s not likely,” she said, dropping some handmade soap into her basket, beside the honey that she knew was the best there was.

  “Never say never, girl,” he said, trying to take her basket. She held on.

  “I got it, thanks.”

  “You don’t like people helping you, do you, Hope?”

  “What? Sure, I just don’t need help with my basket.” She could hear the defensive tone in her voice.

  “The thing is, in this town, help comes your way whether you want it or not. So my advice to you is don’t resist, it’s easier all round.”

  “I was raised here, I know that.” She hadn’t meant to snap, but it had come out that way.

  “Must have been a nice place to grow up in.”

  It had been for the most part.

  “Sure.”

  “Well, if you need anything I can help you with, let me know.”

  “I read your latest book,” Hope said before she could stop herself, because she shouldn’t have snapped at him for being nice. “I really enjoyed it, although what’s with you letting that baddy Freefold live?”

  Declan smiled.

  “There’s always the second book in the series to kill him off in, Hope. Have a little faith.”

  “Ha,” she managed. Faith in people had never been her strong suit.

  Every muscle in Hope’s body clenched as she heard Mac call out Newman’s name. She looked for an escape route, but none was forthcoming.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Newman had several weaknesses, and he was at present entering the Roar to indulge in one of them. He would be leaving here with two bags of Gussie Neeps’ coconut fudge.

  He loved food, but especially Gussie’s fudge. When he’d approached her about putting coconut in her fudge she’d pretty much told him where to stick his request, then two weeks later she’d handed him a batch. He’d been her slave ever since. It was their secret.

  “You got money?”

  Newman rolled his eyes at Mac. They did this every time he came in here. Mac made out he was Newman’s supplier, like he was some major drug seller.

  “I do, you got the goods?” He played along.

  “I do.”

  “How many bags?”

  “That bad?”

  “Let’s put it this way, Mac. The business I’m trying to help doesn’t think they need it, and is run by idiots. I’ve spent weeks trying to make them see reason.”

  “Has to be taxing on a person.”

  “And then some.”

  “Extrapolate, Newman.”

  “Get you, with the big words,” Newman said as he studied the counter for anything he may need.

  “I’m in a big word kind of mood today,” Mac said, then headed out the back of the store. Newman wandered, like he always did, and usually ended up with an armload of stuff he didn’t need, but had to have. He found Hope talking to Declan, and refused to acknowledge the little charge of pleasure that travelled through him as he looked at her. Even if she was dressed in the ugliest shirt he’d ever seen.

  “You can’t be serious?” he said, now leaning on a set of shelves that held more fudge. The sweet, addictive scent had him reaching for a bag,

  “About what?” She glared at him, eyebrows drawn together. Her hair was pulled back from her face. She wore a long T-shirt that came to her knees. It fell off one slender shoulder, which he was sure was not deliberate, as she kept yanking it back up. He doubted Hope had ever dressed to please anyone but herself. Commendable, Newman was sure, but as people had to look at her, he being one, she could at least work on her colors. It was a cross between army green and mud brown, and had the words The World Needs Help, Recycle, on it. Accompanying it were her black boots.

  “That shirt.” He waved a hand at her. “It’s four sizes too big, and looks like something HRH’s dog left behind. Even for you, this is a bad look.”

  “Newman.” Declan nodded his way, and his word had a caution in it that he ignored.

  “You shut your mouth.” She pointed a finger at him. “I don’t have to dress to please you.”

  “Well you certainly won that point.” He popped a piece of fudge in his mouth and hummed. “In fact, I doubt that ensemble would please anyone.”

  Color flushed her face and he wondered if she had any idea how hot she actually was. Her beauty was in the wildness. The thick mane of hair and high cheekbones. The slashing dark brows and soft lips. He could only imagine what she’d look like if someone actually got hold of her and dressed her in something that didn’t hurt his eyes.

  She turned to see where Declan now stood, and as it was to the back and slightly to the right of her, she held up a hand to shield the bird she flipped him. Newman laughed.

  “Such a badass.”

  This time she poked out her tongue, turned away, and continued shopping.

  “You got a problem with that girl, Newman?”

  Declan approached him.

  “No, we just always do this kind of thing. It’s been this way between us since we first met each other. We were only three and five then.” Newman offered the Irishman some fudge.

  Declan gave him a steady look that suddenly had Newman digging his toes into his worn trainers, and then took two pieces.

  “You have to wonder why it’s still happening.”

  “No I don’t.”

  “Sure you do.” Declan gave him that calm smile of his. “Because that girl certainly changed when she heard Mac call out your name, and I have to say I haven’t seen that particular look in your eyes before.”

  Newman was literally struck speechless, but as Declan wandered off, he didn’t have to answer. Sure, he felt something when he saw Hope. But it wasn’t anything more than annoyance, and yes, he had to concede that was now tinged with awareness.

  He found her looking at a magazine. She didn’t hear him approach, and as he drew level he noted her hands were shaking.

  “Hope?”

  Her head shot up, and the look was filled with anguish.

  “What’s wrong?” He looked down at the magazine and saw a picture of a bird. It was surrounded by trees, and the beauty of it was hard to describe. It almost flew right off the page at you. He read the name of the photographer. Jay Herald.

  “That’s an awesome picture.”

  She slowly closed the magazine and turned away. Newman tucked the fudge in his pocket before placing a hand on her shoulder.

  “Talk to me.”

  “I took that picture.” The words were torn from her. “He stole it from me.”

  “Jesus.” Newman whistled. “I’m guessing this is what you were alluding to when I found you that night?”

  She nodded, then shrugged his hand from her shoulder and walked away. Newman picked up the magazine and followed. When he got to the counter she was paying for her things.

  “Thanks, Hope. You say hi to your mom for me.”

  She gave Mac a jerky nod, then clutched her bag to her chest and walked out.

  “What the hell did you say to upset that girl?”

  “Nothing,” Newman said. “She was reading a magazine when I found her, and was already upset.”

  They looked out the door and watched her walk down the steps.

  “Always liked that little girl. She had a tough time of things because of who her mother was, but the folks in this place are not entirely right about Millicent either.”

  “Sure we are,” Newman said. “The woman tried to break Buster, and spends most of her time objecting to everyone and everything, Mac. How the hell could we get that wrong?”

  Mac’s mouth formed a disapproving line, but he didn’t say anything else, so Newman paid for his fix, and left.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  H
ope inhaled and exhaled several times as she left the Roar.

  “Hello, Hope.”

  “Mr. Heath, Mrs. Heath,” she acknowledged the elderly couple walking toward her. They didn’t look like they’d aged much. Walt still had a shock of white hair, and Lizzie was dressed in capris and a collared shirt.

  “Walt and Lizzie, dear.”

  “Ah, sure,” Hope said, wondering why suddenly she was on first-name terms with the elderly people of this town.

  “We know we’re old, dear, we don’t need to be reminded,” Lizzie added.

  “Doing a bit of shopping, girl?”

  Hope nodded to Walt. These two were loved by everyone in Howling, especially the children who had sat at their table eating homemade cookies. She and Ryan had been no exception, spending a lot of time in their household.

  “Still dancing, dear?”

  “I haven’t taken a class for a few months now, Mrs. Heath. But I try to fit one in wherever I am.”

  They’d taught her to dance, and the surprise had been that Hope was good at it. She’d never stopped, and danced where she could find somewhere to do so. It was her secret pleasure, the thing she did that was solely for her. Well, when she wasn’t drunk and dancing on chairs that was. The freedom she felt from the music always rejuvenated her.

  “Well then, you come on over whenever you want to. Walt and I dance most days. But you know where the key is. Let yourself into the studio, the music is there.”

  “I may take you up on that. Thanks so much.”

  “Lizzie’s just made a batch of those cookies you like, Hope. Come over later, and we’ll share a few.”

  “Thank you. I’ll do that,” Hope said, surprised that she was actually contemplating doing just that.

  She went into the pharmacy and bought what was on her mother’s list, and added a few things of her own. Hope then fielded several more questions about how long she’d be in town, before managing to escape. She wandered along the street, making sure not to make eye contact with too many people, and tried to work out her next move. Work meant money, and she needed that, but it also meant staying in Howling. Could she do that?

  She watched two silver vans roll by and then pull up in front of the Howler, where you could get accommodation, food, and drink. It was the main watering hole for locals.