by Lyn Gardner
“I see.” Kate looked out the windshield, losing herself in her thoughts for a moment. “Oh, speaking of your family, what do they know about me? I mean, what do they know about Devon? Oh, Christ, I’m supposed to be Devon on this little escapade, aren’t I?”
Brodie snorted and gave Kate a side-eyed glance. “Relax. I never gave them a name, so you can be yourself.”
“Good,” Kate said, relaxing in her seat. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how many other women have you taken home to meet your family?”
“Um…none.”
“None?”
“Nope.”
Kate tilted her head just a bit. “Why not?”
“Well…um…”
“Wait,” Kate said, holding up hands. “Let me guess. Most of the women you…uh…you date aren’t the type you bring home to Daddy?”
Brodie’s cheeks turned rosy. “Something like that.”
“So, how are you going to explain me?”
“What?”
“You just said you’ve never taken a woman home before, and now you’re going to show up with me. Aren’t they going to think this make-believe relationship of ours is, well, serious?”
Matchmaking, it seemed, didn’t run only in her family, and in that nanosecond of Brodie’s life, the thought of murdering her best friend sounded tremendously appealing. Brodie tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “I need to take you home.”
“What? Why?”
“Because Devon lied to you, and then she lied to me.”
“What are you talking about?”
Brodie filled her lungs and then let the air rush out. “Kate, I made up this whole fucking charade so my weekend wouldn’t be interrupted by a bevy of strange and straight women parading through my father’s house.”
“I know. Devon told me all about it.”
“Yeah, well by the sounds of it, she forgot to mention that when I told my father I was bringing someone, I told him she was my new partner, as in lover. And since I know Devon told you earlier that she’s gay, you’ll understand why I knew she could play the part easily enough. She wouldn’t have had a problem if I held her hand or gave her a hug or even a small kiss if it came to that, but that’s not the case with you, and I’m not going to put you in that position. So, I’m going to take the next ramp, get you home, and then head out again.”
Kate should have been thrilled. After all, she had argued with Devon for nearly twenty minutes earlier that morning, rattling off a laundry list of reasons why she couldn’t go in Devon’s place until Devon’s you-go-or-I-will ultimatum ended the fight, and now she had an out. Kate didn’t have to be a part of the farce any longer. She didn’t have to play the role of Brodie’s attentive partner, holding her hand or pretending to gaze lovingly when the need arose. She could just go home and spend the weekend alone. Kate should have been thrilled.
Kate picked at a loose thread on her coat, mindless of the minutes as they ticked by. If they turned around, Brodie would be late getting to her father’s house, and even though her family believed she had a partner, would that stop them from pushing single women in Brodie’s direction when she showed up alone? And if that happened, Brodie’s weekend would be ruined, and Kate would be to blame. There was no getting around that. Yet, if Kate did pretend to be Brodie’s partner, the woman would have the weekend she had hoped for, and Kate would be in a place she’d only visited in her dreams. Kate’s palms grew damp. Did she really want to go there?
Kate raised her eyes as Brodie changed lanes, and seeing the off-ramp up ahead, Kate blurted, “No, don’t turn around.”
“What?”
“I said, don’t turn around.”
“Why?”
“Just give me a minute, okay?” Kate said, holding up her index finger. As they passed the off-ramp, Kate took a steadying breath and got her thoughts in order. “Are we supposed to stay at your dad’s house?”
“No. I made reservations at a hotel,” Brodie said, glancing at Kate. “One room, two beds, in case you’re wondering.”
“Then, this will work.”
“Have you gone mad?
“Brodie, we can do this.”
“At the risk of repeating myself, have you gone bloody mad?”
Kate flashed a face-splitting smile. “No, but you said it yourself. All you planned to do was hold Devon’s hand occasionally—right?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” Brodie said, knowing she wasn’t just talking about Kate. It was hard enough hiding her feelings over dinners or walking down avenues filled with store windows. How in the hell would she be able to hide them for an entire weekend while playing the part of Kate’s lover?
“Why, because I’m going to have to hold the big, bad, scary lesbian’s hand?”
Brodie grimaced. “It sounds really stupid when you say it like that.”
“Because it is,” Kate said, patting her on the arm. “Trust me, Brodie. This will work.”
Brodie didn’t want to have hope. She didn’t want that feeling of expectation, that desire for a truth she yearned to have, but hope, it seemed, was tenacious. The sensual dance they shared at Outskirts she had blamed on tequila, but what could Brodie blame this on? Why would Kate agree to this farce if she didn’t want the same thing? Brodie scrubbed her hand over her chin. It was time to think with her head and not her heart, and give Kate one more chance to back out. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Kate said, bobbing her head.
For a few minutes, neither said a word. The landscape whooshed by and the only sound was the rumble of the tires on the pavement as two women came to terms with their own demons. One was about to take a detour from her plans, traveling down a road that was as frightening as it was surreal, and the other teetered between feeling elated…and terrified.
“Okay,” Kate said, swiveling in her seat. “So, I’m going to need to know what our story is.”
“Our story?”
“When they ask how we met, what are we going to tell them?”
“I suppose I’m just going to tell them the truth,” Brodie said with a shrug. “It seems easier than trying to make something up.”
“Agreed,” Kate said, her thoughts drifting back to her first impression of Brodie. “So, you’re going to have to refresh my memory a little. Your father’s name is Harrison—right?”
“That’s right, and he was a Professor of Mathematics at Southampton University until he retired a few years ago. Now he spends his time reading, fishing, tutoring at a few of the local community colleges, and gardening. My dad loves to garden.”
“And your mother? I know that night in Calabria, you said she died. Can I ask how?”
“Giving birth to James.”
“Oh, sorry.”
Brodie glanced at Kate. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago, and it was her choice.”
“What do you mean?”
“None of us knew this until years later, but after my mother had me, the doctors told her she wouldn’t be able to carry another child to term, let alone give birth. Dad said they had taken all the precautions after that, followed all the rules, but she got pregnant again. Even though abortion was an option, my mother wouldn’t hear of it, and my dad supported her decision. He adored her, and it was what she wanted. He said that she told him her life had always been in God’s hands, and now it is,” Brodie said, briefly looking at Kate. “I can still remember him coming home from the hospital that night to tell us Mum had to leave us, but she had given us all a gift, and his name was James.”
Kate ran her hands down her arms to calm the goosebumps that had sprouted. “So, James. Tell me about him.”
“James is a Professor of Computer Science at Exeter University. He’s thirty-four, single, and even though we all take after my father’s side of the family, James has my mother’s eyes. They’re brilliantly blue. Oh yeah, and he
reminds me a lot of your sister.”
“Why?”
“Because they have the same taste in clothes and hairstyles,” Brodie said, grinning. “And he’s as nerdy as she can be.”
Kate smiled. “All right, so that leaves…um…Ethan?”
“Very good,” Brodie said with a dip of her head. “Ethan is my business partner. He runs the construction side of things. He’s one year older than me, and up until about five years ago, he was a confirmed bachelor.”
“What happened?”
“He met Lucy,” Brodie said, her affection for her sister-in-law showing on her face. “And that’s about it for family. I have a few aunts, uncles, and cousins scattered about, but we rarely see them. No need to bore you with those details.”
“Okay, so is there anything I should know about you in case someone mentions something a partner should know?”
“Like what?”
Kate paused to think back on a few of her own family gatherings. Remembering one particular party where her sister thought it would be funny to hide fake spiders in Kate’s room, she turned to Brodie. “What about phobias? Do you have any of those?”
Brodie let out a low, throaty chuckle. “Yes, taking a woman, who isn’t my partner, home to meet my family.”
“You’re not helping.”
“Sorry. Um…no phobias, but I’m not particularly fond of tree houses.”
“Afraid of heights?”
“Not really. I just fell out of one when I was a kid. Ended up with a couple of scars.”
“Oh,” Kate said, perking up in her seat. “The scars, where are they?”
Brodie didn’t appreciate Kate’s eagerness to know her bodily defects, and she shot her a look. “Why?”
“Unless your family is different than most, once we get there I’m going to be deluged with stories of little Brodie’s past exploits, and when they mention the tree house, which you know they will, as your partner, I sure as hell better know where those scars are. Don’t you think?”
Kate’s use of ‘little Brodie’ caused Brodie’s scowl to disappear. “Right…hadn’t thought about that. Well, I hit several branches on the way down, so there’s one on my left hip and another under my left breast. All right?”
“Yeah,” Kate said quietly, trying to keep her mind off of the scar locations. “Um…do you have any tattoos or piercings?”
“Tattoos, no. Piercings, just my ears. How about you?”
Kate shook her head. “No tattoos and no scars. Pierced ears.”
“Well, I’m glad we got that out of the way,” Brodie muttered.
“Are you angry with me?”
Brodie frowned. “No, of course not. I just never should have lied to begin with. All I wanted to do was have a nice, relaxing weekend with my family, and now I’ve got you lying for me. Seriously, Kate, if you want to turn around, just say the word.”
Kate had never had an addiction. She had never rationalized all the wrongs to make a right until now. Going back to London made perfect sense. Ending the deception before it began was the right thing to do. Distancing herself from Brodie instead of playing the part of her lover was what Kate needed to do so she could get on with the life she had planned. There was only one problem. Brodie Shaw was a habit Kate was not yet willing to quit.
Chapter Nine
By the time they pulled up to Harrison Shaw’s house, Brodie and Kate were convinced they knew enough about each other to easily play the role of partners. Over the past few years, Brodie had had enough conversations with Devon to already have a basic knowledge about Devon’s and Kate’s upbringing, so the last two hours had been mostly spent giving Kate a crash course in Brodie and her family.
Brodie turned off the car and glanced at her passenger. Since turning onto the side road leading to her father’s house, Kate had gone quiet, and the woman was now bouncing her knee like a lottery ball in an air machine. Brodie grinned. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
Kate took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she looked over at Brodie. “Yeah, piece of cake.”
“All right then.” Brodie went to get out of the car, and then she saw something in the window of the house, and her grin expanded. “Stay there. Let me open your door.”
“Why?”
“Because my dad, the old bugger, is watching from the house, so it looks like our game begins now.” Brodie jogged around the car, and opening Kate’s door, she held out her hand.
Kate rolled her eyes, and slipping her hand in Brodie’s, she climbed out. Somewhat amused they were being watched like teenagers arriving home past their curfew, Brodie and Kate walked hand in hand to the house.
Situated off the main road, and found only if one traveled down a lengthy, cobblestone, tree-lined path, Kate hoped Harrison Shaw wasn’t as imposing as the two-story brick structure before her. Leaded glass filled the three panels making up the entrance, the sidelights matching the door in height and width, and a thick vine traveled up the brick and over the door, its woody tentacles spreading across the façade as they climbed toward the sky. To the left and right of the entrance were bay casement units, their copper roofs now green with age, and under both windows were gardens edged in stone. Daffodils and camellias, awakened from their winter sleep, erupted from the soil, providing a colorful blanket of yellow, pink, red, and white. Far to Kate’s left, an arched opening in the brick framed a thick, planked door, and noticing the wall continued for some time, Kate assumed the entrance led to more gardens behind the house.
Kate was just about to comment on the impressive home when the front door swung open, and a man, at least a foot taller than she, stepped out.
“You’re late,” he said in a booming voice.
Kate unconsciously gripped Brodie’s hand tighter. Clean-shaven, and with a head full of wavy, salt-and-peppered hair, Harrison Shaw was as commanding as his house. Towering, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, the arms of his long-sleeved Oxford bulged from the muscles underneath, and while she knew he was about to turn sixty, Kate had no doubt Harrison Shaw could best most men half his age. For a few seconds, his expression was unreadable and dark, and then he laughed, and whatever trepidation Kate was feeling vanished as a network of tiny lines creased the man’s face.
“Christ, I’ve missed you,” he said, pulling Brodie into his arms.
The love flowing between the father and daughter was unmistakable, and Kate stood quietly off to the side, somewhat honored to watch as they hugged and kissed and hugged again.
Harrison finally took a step back and holding Brodie at arm’s length, he scrutinized her lanky frame. “You’ve lost weight.”
“No, I haven’t, so don’t even start,” Brodie said, narrowing her eyes.
Harrison gave Brodie a wink before focusing on Kate. “Now then, who do we have here?”
If it had been an act, Brodie would have won an award, but her dazzling smile wasn’t a part of the masquerade. It was real. Until that moment, Brodie hadn’t realized that for the first time, she would be able to look at Kate the way she wanted. Under the pretense of being partners, she no longer needed to conceal her admiration for the woman at her side, and Brodie couldn’t believe the overwhelming feeling of pride at the words she was about to say. “Dad, this is my partner, Kate Monroe.”
It was as if sunshine suddenly broke across Kate’s face, and as she gazed at Brodie, Kate found it impossible not to return Brodie’s radiant smile with one of her own.
When Brodie was in college, Harrison had visited often, and during those times, he had managed to meet a few of his daughter’s ‘friends.’ Mostly tall and always blonde, they’d chatter on about parties, clubs, and concerts while draped in the latest and tightest of fashions, and Harrison wasn’t impressed. They weren’t deserved of the daughter he raised, but thankfully he soon recognized they were only fleeting fancies. None had held Brodie’s interest for long, and he became accustomed to hearing a new name every time she came home or called.
There were
nights when Harrison would sit in front of the fireplace, watching the flames dance and seeing his daughter in the sparks, silently questioning himself about the way he had raised her. Had he been too strict? Had he shown enough love? Would she ever find someone who could fill her heart and kindle her flame? Harrison’s eyes darted back and forth between the two women, and an invisible grin was formed. He had just found his answer.
“Very nice to meet you, Mr. Shaw,” Kate said, extending her hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Harrison tempered his strength as he took Kate’s hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Kate, though I can’t say I’ve heard that much about you,” he said, giving Brodie the sternest look he owned. “Quite a secret you’ve been keeping—eh?”
When the only reply he received from Brodie was a shrug, Harrison huffed out a laugh as he pushed open the door. Ushering them inside, he put their jackets in the cloakroom before leading them to the kitchen. “How about I make some tea while we’re waiting for the others?” he said, grabbing the kettle from the stove.
“Where is everyone?” Brodie said, looking around. “It’s not like them to be late for one of your dinners.”
“You just missed James. I sent him to the store to get a few things, and Ethan called and said they were running late. But not to worry, that just means we have a bit of time to get to know one another. Right, Kate?”
Kate beamed. “Right, sir, but before we do, is there a place where I could freshen up?”
“Of course, my dear,” Harrison said, turning back to the stove. “Brodie, why don’t you bring in your bags and then give Kate a tour?”
“Oh, Dad, sorry. I guess I should have told you. I made a reservation at a hotel for us.”
“Bollocks,” Harrison said, whipping around. “I’m not having you spend your nights in a drafty old hotel. I’ve got your room all ready and waiting. Now, do what your father—”
“But Dad—”
“Broderick Anne Shaw!” Harrison said, eyeing his daughter as only a parent can do. “I don’t see you nearly as much as I’d like, and I’m not taking no for an answer. Now get your bloody bags and do what your father is telling you to do. End of discussion.”
