Deep River Promise

by Jackie Ashenden

  Still, everyone was on edge and even more suspicious than they normally were. Including, apparently, her son.

  Ever since the news broke that Caleb West had died and the town had been given new owners, Connor had suddenly become very protective. He’d always been a caring kind of kid, but this protectiveness was new. As if he’d decided all at once that he was now the man he’d one day be and had taken responsibility for the whole of Deep River.

  He would disappear on the weekends and sometimes in the evenings too, going God only knew where, and it wasn’t until later that she’d discovered he’d either been helping April in her diner, or talking to Mal in Mal’s Market, Deep River’s general store. Or offering his help to some of the fishermen, or going around to check on various people in the town.

  All admirable things for him to do in the normal scheme of things. At least, it would have been admirable if he’d told her why he was doing them. And he wouldn’t. All she’d managed to get out of him was that there were things he needed to do and she shouldn’t be concerned because he was taking care of it.

  Of course, that had only made her even more concerned, since he’d never hidden things from her before. He’d always told her everything.

  She had an inkling about the reasons for his new behavior, but since it was something she had no idea how to talk to him about, she hadn’t broached it yet.

  “He’s not an oilman,” she said firmly.

  Connor’s suspicious blue gaze turned on her. “How do you know?”

  “Well, oilmen don’t generally stand around stark-naked on balconies. Especially not if they want people to take them seriously.”

  “Maybe.” Connor was clearly unconvinced. “But maybe that’s what he wants you to think. That you can’t take him seriously and you shouldn’t be worried.”

  Astrid gave her son a long, narrow stare.

  Connor flushed almost as red as the reddish hints in his dark-blond hair, looking cross and every bit the awkward teenager he actually was. “What?” He kicked at the wooden pole behind him with his heel. “If you say something embarrassing about shaving, I will never speak to you again.”

  “Just checking to see if you’re wearing a tinfoil hat.”

  He shook his head, as if he were the responsible adult and she the sulky teenager. “Mom, come on. This is serious.”

  “What’s serious is that if you don’t get over the river right now, you’re going to miss the bus and get another detention.”

  “Hey, that detention was unfair.” Righteous anger burned in her son’s gaze. “I was helping out in my community.”

  Which was just the kind of thing a teenager might say to cover up some minor misdemeanor. Except with Connor it wasn’t actually a cover-up. That’s what he had been doing. He’d been assisting Filthy Phil, the town eccentric, with building fences for the new wildlife sanctuary that the old ex-hunter was setting up on his property.

  Difficult to argue that he shouldn’t be helping out in his community. But it shouldn’t come at the expense of his education.

  “It’s nearly the end of the school year, Con,” Astrid said. “And then you’ll have plenty of time to help out in your community. Now get to that bus stop before I have to ground you.”

  This time Connor rolled his eyes. “Not a great threat, Mom. I never go anywhere anyway.”

  “It is if you want to keep helping out in your community.”

  Connor raised a brow. “You’re seriously going to stop me from helping people in need?”

  Lord, give her strength. Connor would make a great lawyer one day if he ever decided to put to good use his talent for arguing his way out of any situation.

  Holding on to her patience by a thread, Astrid jerked her head toward the dock where Kevin Anderson’s ferry waited.

  “Go on. Get.”

  “All right, all right. I’ll do it.” There was a martyred expression on his face. “For you, Mom.”

  Astrid tried not to smile as she watched him head toward the ferry, already taller than she was and already getting broad across the shoulders. A number of other kids were gathered on the ferry itself, waiting for him. The ferry would take them across the river, to where the main highway was, and from there, they’d catch the bus to school.

  He already looks like his father.

  Astrid’s heart missed a beat as the morning sun caught the red highlights in Connor’s hair.

  Yes, she was horribly afraid that he did. And soon the rest of the town would see it too.

  And they’d all start to wonder why Connor James looked so much like Caleb West.

  Chapter 2

  Feeling marginally more human after his shower, Damon dressed in a clean T-shirt and jeans, then headed downstairs to find Silas and hopefully some coffee.

  The Happy Moose ranked up there with some of the weirder bars he’d been to. It had low ceilings with heavy, smoke-blackened beams, a big wooden bar, and ratty old tables and chairs scattered around the place. There was a pool table down one end and an old jukebox, which was pretty standard. But the thing that made the place really odd was the fact that the walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of different kinds of animals. According to Silas, hunters and trappers used to pay for their drinks with whatever they’d hunted or trapped back in the day, and the prizes were then displayed on the walls.

  It made for a disturbing place to walk into early in the morning, when you were suffering from a major hangover and needing caffeine and met the glassy-eyed stares of dozens of different animals instead.

  Especially when the place was empty.

  Understandable given that if he had a hangover, then Silas was likely to have one too and was probably still holed up in bed with his girlfriend, Hope.

  Damon sighed, sparing a wistful thought about his last hookup, a fabulous artist in Juneau who’d worked the same creative magic with her hands and mouth as she did with oil and canvas. Initially neither of them had wanted more than the odd weekend now and then, but then she’d decided she wanted a baby, and he wasn’t up for anything that serious, so they’d parted amiably enough.

  He’d liked her, though. In fact, he liked women a hell of a lot in general, and not just as bed partners. He liked the way they thought, the way they talked, their opinions and their feelings. Everything about them had always been endlessly fascinating to him, and they were pretty much his favorite people to be around.

  Hope, owner of the Moose and Silas’s girlfriend, had proved to be just the kind of woman he particularly liked: strong and snarky and took no bullshit. Giving back as good as she got. And he had to say, if he had a woman like Hope in his bed, he certainly wouldn’t be downstairs at this ungodly hour looking for coffee.

  But since he didn’t, he’d have to find caffeine on his own.

  Damon moved through the empty bar to the exit and pushed open the door, stepping out onto the boardwalk that ran in front of the little collection of buildings.

  The morning sun felt like a benediction after all the rain, and the whole town shone and sparkled like it had just been newly washed. A sharp breeze that carried with it the last remains of winter helped with some of the cobwebs in his head, but for the rest, nothing but coffee would do.

  Next door to the Moose was Deep River’s general store. It was the only building that had a freshly painted sign, the name Mal’s Market painted a bright and glaring pink. Beside the market was the tiny tourist information center, where the big Nowhere pole stood. The kid and the woman had long gone, but Sandy Maclean, who ran the center, had put out her postcard stands, the breeze ruffling the edges of the cards.

  There was a hotel—the Gold Pan—next to the tourist center. It was just as ramshackle as all the other buildings, though some attempt at brightening the frontage had been made with a few flower baskets hanging from the awning overhead, along with a giant replica gold pan tacked to the
wall beside the door.

  Last in line was April’s, the diner. It had big windows that gave a great view out over the boardwalk and the river and was famous for serving coffee so strong it took the lining of your throat out.

  Given the epic level of Damon’s headache, strong coffee was exactly what he needed, so that’s where he headed.

  There were only a few people in April’s when he walked in; most of her usual customers—fishermen on their way to their trawlers—would have had their breakfasts a couple of hours earlier.

  April was behind the counter—a small, elderly woman in a pink nineteen-fifties-style waitress uniform—and she gave Damon a big smile in greeting. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Handsome. A cup of your usual?”

  Damon grinned.

  His mother was from Texas and despite spending a good deal of her life in LA, she’d always been a great believer in a few old-fashioned values. She’d brought Damon up to believe the same, and so far he’d seen no reason to change that belief.

  His mom’s rules were simple: Be polite to the elderly. Don’t cuss in front of women and kids. Never mistreat an animal. There had been times in his life when he hadn’t exactly obeyed those rules, but he’d at least never mistreated an animal.

  April had been suspicious of him initially, the way most Deep River folks had been, but over the past couple of days, Damon had worn her down with a combination of politeness, old-fashioned charm, and the ability to listen.

  It helped that she clearly enjoyed a bit of flirting too.

  “Morning, April,” he said. “You look particularly fetching today.”

  “You’re a charmer, mister.” She flicked the dishcloth she was holding at him playfully, flushing with pleasure. It suited her, making her eyes look even bluer and bringing a youthful glow to her lined face. “And if you’re wanting a free donut, then you’re going the right way about it.”

  Damon was good with people, and it was a skill that had come in useful during his army days. He and Cal had been the ones who’d talked to the locals, reassuring them, making friends, and earning their trust. Mainly because Silas wasn’t an effusive type and Zeke made Silas look like a motormouth.

  However, though Damon had managed to win April over, her son, Jack, was another story.

  Jack gave him a narrow stare from the kitchen area behind April.

  Damon couldn’t blame him; he respected a man who looked out for his mother.

  He gave Jack a nod, then turned his attention back to April, because for all that Jack was protective of his mother, his mother also wasn’t stupid. In fact, Damon wouldn’t have been at all surprised if April had been an accomplished flirt back in the day, because it was a game she clearly knew and enjoyed.

  “Perfect,” Damon said. “Because you know if there’s a donut in there, I’ll be your slave for life.”

  April’s blue eyes danced. “There’s a name for men like you, you know.”

  He grinned. “And what’s that?”

  “A tease.”

  “And you love it.”

  “Oh, if I was thirty years younger…”

  Damon leaned his hip against the counter. “Surely it must only be five.”

  “Right, that’s it.” She turned her head. “Two donuts please, Jack.”

  Behind her, Jack’s suspicious gaze became even narrower. He lifted a couple of donuts out of the fryer, put them in a paper bag, and came over to the counter, dumping the bag down without a word.

  April gave him a disapproving glance. “Manners, Jack.”

  “Not a problem,” Damon said easily, heading this one off at the pass. “He’s just looking out for you.”

  “Is that so, hmm?” April’s disapproving stare became slightly less disapproving.

  Her son merely looked annoyed. “Don’t want you getting taken advantage of.”

  April rolled her eyes. “I’m seventy-five, Jack. And if a handsome young man wants to humor an old lady, then I’m not going to stop him, okay?”

  “I’m not humoring you,” Damon felt compelled to point out. “You’re an interesting woman.”

  “There, you see?” April raised her brows at her son. “How am I supposed to resist that?”

  Jack shook his head and went back to the kitchen area without another word.

  “Don’t you mind him,” April said. “He’s always grumpy in the mornings. Now, where’s that coffee?”

  As April bustled off to get the coffee, Damon tried not to think of the other thing that had been pressing in on him. The real reason he was here in Deep River, which hadn’t been just to yell at Silas, though yelling at Silas had been a pleasant byproduct. It was an important reason and one he’d been trying to figure out what to do with for the past three days.

  He still hadn’t come to any definite conclusions, despite running a few different scenarios in his head. Not that he’d really put his mind to it; he’d been subconsciously counting on the fact that he had a bit more time to get something in place. Though now, after Rachel’s call, that time was running out.

  Come on, be honest. You didn’t put your mind to it. You’ve been putting it off.

  Yeah, that was fair enough. He had been putting it off, and for a whole host of reasons, none of which he wanted to think about right now. However, he couldn’t put it off any longer. Today, he was going to have to do something and then he would leave for LA.

  April came back with a takeout cup and began fussing about with fitting the lid on it.

  Damon folded his arms. He’d need to be careful here. Caleb had been very clear about the need to keep this particular secret, and since the townspeople seemed to love gossip more than they loved just about anything else, he had to be circumspect.

  Silas had introduced him to a fair number of people in the town while he’d been here, but he hadn’t introduced him to Astrid, the town’s mayor. She was very busy, Silas had said. Pinning her down could be difficult, Silas had said. Wait until she’s in her office, Silas had said.

  Except there hadn’t been a moment when Astrid wasn’t busy, able to be pinned down, or in her office, and Damon had begun to think that Silas was deliberately keeping him from meeting her.

  An issue, when the reason he was in Deep River involved her. And her son.

  And he was going to have to talk to her whether he wanted to or not.

  “So, April,” he said casually. “Where can I find Astrid James?”

  April’s gaze sharpened, the flirty girlishness falling away, Deep River suspicion written all over her face. “Astrid?” She pushed the cup across the counter to him. “What do you want with Astrid?”

  It wasn’t unexpected that April would want to know, and luckily he did have a reasonable excuse, largely based on yet something else Silas had been doing his best to convince him of for the last three days.

  Deep River had decided to make up for lost oil income by starting up various tourist ventures, and Silas had asked Damon to stay for a while in order to give financial advice, since money was a talent of his. Damon hadn’t minded—except now it seemed as if he wouldn’t have the time for that either.

  “Silas’s been trying to get me to look over the new tourism ventures some people here are starting,” he said, keeping it offhand. “Told me the mayor’s the one I need to speak to about it.”

  April’s gaze turned shrewd. “Oh?”

  “I’m not bad with money, so I offered to check out the financials for free.”

  “Well, well, well. More than just a pretty face, huh?”

  Damon grinned. “Hidden depths, you might say.”

  She laughed. “It’s always the charming ones that are the most surprising. Well, the town could surely use someone with financial know-how looking over those ideas. Especially seeing as how most folk here keep their cash under a mattress and wouldn’t know compound interest if it bit them in the
butt.”

  “You do, I take it?”

  April tapped the side of her nose. “Oh, I know my way around a greenback, don’t you worry.”

  “Perhaps you should be the one looking them over,” Damon said, amused.

  “No, better for that kind of thing to come from a neutral party.” April nodded sagely. “People get twitchy otherwise. Think you have ulterior motives, that kind of thing.”

  Yeah, he could see that happening in a small place like this.

  “Fair enough. So, I need to speak with her this morning because I’m taking off this afternoon.”

  April’s face fell. “You’re leaving? But you only just got here.”

  Disappointing a lady was never Damon’s favorite thing. Especially an elderly lady.

  “My mom is in LA,” he said, giving her a little bit of truth. His mom wouldn’t mind that. “Have to get back to her.”

  April’s expression softened. “Well, can’t argue with that, though it’s a real shame.”

  Damon became aware of a constriction in his chest, as if part of him agreed that yes, it was a shame. But it was only slight. He’d never planned on staying here for longer than a few days, and now he couldn’t anyway.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll come say goodbye before I go.”

  April waved a finger at him. “You’d better. Now, if you want to find Astrid, start with the mayor’s office above the tourism information center. But if you want to catch her, you’d better get there quick because she doesn’t stay for long.”

  * * *

  Astrid sat behind her desk in the mayoral office and ticked off another task on her considerable to-do list with some satisfaction.

  It had been a productive morning.

  She’d chatted to Gwen, Harry the survivalist’s hippie girlfriend, about the success of the hot yoga classes that they’d started up as a way of getting the townspeople more involved in fitness, and then Astrid had suggested running some nutrition classes at the community center in the evenings. Gwen was, as expected, very receptive and had also wanted to talk to Astrid about her eco-resort tourism idea, though Astrid had been a little too pressed for time to get into it in any detail.