“I’m sure you’ll find things haven’t changed much around here since you left,” he remarked.
“Well, let’s see. I’ve only been here twenty-four hours, but I noticed the old tea room has closed. There’s a new hardware store on Front Street. And, oh, our old high school quarterback is now the mayor.”
Ian chuckled. “Yeah, and married to Faith, the fiery little redhead who used to assault him with snowballs at the bus stop.”
“But she always did like him, you know. Do you see much of them now?” Brooke wondered.
His shoulders lifted briefly. “Not really. We run into each other from time to time. I haven’t talked to Faith since her father died. How’s she coping?”
“I think she’ll be okay,” Brooke replied, though she hadn’t had a chance to talk to Faith about how her father’s death had affected her.
“I think she’s worn herself out, caring for that man around the clock while he was ailing, along with having a young baby to look after, not to mention the landscaping business she and Ted own. I hope old Ross appreciated it, after everything he put her through.”
Brooke turned to Ian in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“It’s no secret Ross Kinley was a raging alcoholic, and he could make life pretty miserable for his kids.”
“Did everyone know?” Even as she posed the question, Brooke realized that the signs had been obvious, especially once Ross’s addiction led to a rapid decline in his health. “I mean, Faith was very careful about keeping her family problems private. She only really talked about it with me.” Ian was right—as a girl Faith had been terribly unhappy at home, but few would have known it; she carried herself with grace and an ebullient spirit, keeping even the strain of her mother’s battle with cancer to herself.
“You should know, it’s next to impossible to keep a secret in a small town,” Ian said.
“I suppose you’re right.”
“There’s something I don’t get,” he went on, stopping to face her. “Faith and I both had traumatic childhoods, and both of us are still here in Eastport. You had an ideal home life, from what I could see, yet you couldn’t wait to get out of town.”
They stood under the broad canopy of a maple tree, shielded from the marina lights. Brooke paused to consider her answer as Ian waited, his features hollowed by shadow, his expression barely perceptible.
“I suppose I was just restless,” she said at last. “I had dreams that were bigger than this place.”
“All right, I’ll buy that. So how was it, climbing your way through the fast-paced financial world?”
“Exciting, at first. I was good at it, and very successful. But it was all-consuming; I basically sacrificed my social life.”
“Hmm. So there’s no lucky man missing you right now back in Toronto?” he asked lightly.
“No one, lucky or otherwise.” Brooke released a gentle sigh as she considered how long it had been since anyone had so much as asked her out.
“I’ll admit, I’m not unhappy to hear that. You know I had a crush on you back in the day.”
Brooke suppressed a smile as she replied, his words stirring a flutter of remembered excitement in her chest. “I got that impression when you tried to kiss me at the school dance.”
“I’m not sure ‘try’ is the right word.” Amusement coloured his tone as he took a step closer to her, his eyes gleaming as moonlight touched his face. “You kissed me back. At least for a moment, before you pushed me away.”
“You caught me by surprise.” She still remembered it clearly—the sweet, soft press of his lips against hers. But the momentary, unrestrained pleasure of it had quickly dissipated, snuffed out by shame. How could she accept such open affection from him, while harbouring a secret that might have offered him some measure of comfort?
“You said I wasn’t your type,” Ian went on, his tone even. “You wouldn’t want to be seen kissing the son of the town crook, would you?”
Brooke stared at him, her heart beginning to batter against her ribs. “That’s the second time you’ve said that. I never thought of you that way. I liked you.”
“But you weren’t attracted to me.”
“It’s not that,” she began, flustered—before she saw the corner of his mouth lift, and realized he was teasing her. “I wasn’t … I don’t know. It was my first kiss. I panicked.”
Ian crossed his arms over his broad chest, regarding her quizzically. “Really? At sixteen you’d never been kissed?”
She darted him a narrowed gaze. “Is that so strange?”
“I suppose not. It’s rather nice to know I was your first.”
“Shall I presume I wasn’t yours?” Brooke asked, feeling a smile curve her lips.
Ian’s own mouth curled at the edges, as one eyebrow arched. “I may have had a few dalliances behind the bleachers with girls who shall remain nameless. But yours was the first kiss that meant anything.”
With his last words a more serious tone entered his voice. As his gaze held hers, Brooke felt her pulse quicken, carrying a surge of blood to her cheeks. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” she said quietly. It was a relief to apologize to him, even for this small offense.
“You could find a way to make it up to me.” Ian took another step closer, closing the space between them. His hand drifted up to smooth away a tendril of hair that had blown across her cheek—and then lingered a moment, his fingertips leisurely skimming her jaw with a feather-soft caress.
Brooke held in her breath, as a warm shiver of awareness skittered through her limbs. She didn’t move or speak, but simply stood dumbfounded as his fingers curled tenderly around her neck to settle at her nape, entwining her thick mane of hair.
Instinctively she tilted her head back as he bent toward her, his mouth brushing delicately over hers. She let her eyes fall closed, welcoming the sudden flare of desire that electrified her body. At once it called her back to that warm spring evening when she was sixteen, and the sweet thrill of her first kiss; she hadn’t forgotten the exhilaration of the moment Ian touched his mouth to hers—or the agony of disengaging from his embrace.
This time she didn’t pull back, but surrendered fully as the gentle strokes of his lips deepened, slow and soft yet achingly insistent. His hand glided down her back, molding to her spine to urge her against the broad, solid warmth of his chest. Responding with equal ardour, she wrapped her arms over his shoulders to smooth her palms along the sinewy planes of his back.
Once they parted, Brooke had no idea how much time had passed, and didn’t much care. Easing her hold on Ian, she studied his face, the hunger in his eyes blatant even in the evening dark.
A slow smile curved his mouth. “You’re completely forgiven,” he said thickly.
Brooke stared at him, needing a moment to remember just what he was forgiving her for. Oh yes, hurting his feelings back in high school. She uttered a shuddery laugh, letting the lightness in her heart push away the fear that her larger transgression would not be so readily absolved.
“We should go back,” she said, unsure how she’d manage to walk on legs that felt as sturdy as rubber bands. “And I should go home.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Ian agreed, his voice laced with reluctance. Twining his fingers through hers, he led her out from under the tree and toward the lights of the marina that guided them back to his house.
Chapter Three
Faith waited outside, gently rolling her son’s stroller back and forth on the sloped driveway. By the time Brooke joined them, the baby had drifted to sleep, his blond head lolled against one shoulder and his lips puckered slightly open.
Faith’s appearance had brightened considerably since the previous day at the funeral, a broad smile readily gracing her lips as she greeted her old friend. Her long curls, worn loose about her shoulders, framed her face with hues of russet and gold that gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. She looked more like her old self, though thinner than she ought to be.
“He�
�s adorable, Faith. He’s just perfect,” Brooke whispered, bending to gaze at the plump baby boy in denim overalls splayed under a blanket in the stroller. She thought he resembled his father more than Faith, though the copper highlights in his hair came courtesy of his mother’s Scottish heritage.
“You don’t have to whisper, he’s out like a light,” Faith said, as the women strolled side by side along the shoulder of the road, headed for the boutiques that lined Main Street, several blocks away. “When are you going to settle down and make a few babies of your own?”
“I don’t exactly have a schedule for it.” To this point in her life, Brooke hadn’t given motherhood much thought—though it was impossible to turn thirty without letting the prospect enter one’s mind. “Anyway, seeing as I’m unemployed and unattached, babies aren’t at the top of my mind.”
“From what I heard, you were a rising star at your job. Why’d you quit?”
She was used to the question by now, but still lacked a satisfactory answer. “I guess it just wasn’t what I wanted.”
“What do you want?” Faith persisted.
Brooke lifted one shoulder noncommittally. “I’ll have to figure that out before I go back.”
They walked for a moment in silence, save for the rhythmic crunch of their shoes on the gravel, alongside the intermittent squeak of the stroller wheels. Other than having a child with them, it reminded Brooke of the hundreds of walks they’d taken as girls, to the river, the shops, the beach or McKitrick park—the destination hadn’t mattered, as long as they were together.
Finally Faith asked, “So how long are you staying?”
“I haven’t decided. Long enough to spend some time with you, I hope.”
“Making up for a decade of neglect?” Catching a look of surprise from Brooke, Faith added quickly, “I’m only kidding. I’m being selfish, I know. But it was hard for me after you left. My mom had just passed away, and I felt like everyone had abandoned me.”
Brooke winced, knowing she deserved a harsher reprimand than her old best friend was willing to dish out. “I’m the one who’s been selfish,” she admitted. “I didn’t even come back for your wedding, or to see Brandon when he was born. I gave the excuse that I was too busy with work, and I really was busy—but for the most part I was just avoiding the discomfort of returning to Eastport, and being faced with a certain part of the past that I was trying to escape. But the parts I should have treasured got thrown away in the process. Like our friendship. I’m so sorry.”
Faith met her gaze with a soft smile. “It’s all right. Things are good for me now.” She glanced down at the little boy sleeping peacefully in the stroller. “I’ve got my own family, and I’m happy.”
“I’m really glad. I missed you, too.”
“Next time we get together, we can leave Brandon with Ted and do something fun, just the two of us, like old times,” Faith went on, her smile broadening. “And don’t worry, we can steer clear of Ian McCarthy.”
Brooke slowed her steps a little, sinking her teeth into her lower lip; she considered remaining silent on the subject, but decided she couldn’t keep what had happened to herself. They had just crossed the street that led to his house, and if she craned her neck she could see the docks of the marina in the distance; the sight of it made her heart stutter a little. Last night had been such a surprise, even now it hardly seemed real. The pictures Ian had showed her of Italy had brought back dreams she’d tucked away years ago, along with feelings for him that she should never have allowed into her heart. It was funny how, in his company, remorse could take hold of her one minute, and the next be replaced by warm contentment.
Drawing a deep breath, she blurted, “Actually, I was with him last night.”
Straightening her back in surprise, Faith cast her a withering look. “What do you mean ‘with’?”
“I went over to his house. Just to talk.” Brooke paused, averting her gaze before she spilled the rest of her confession. “And we kissed a little.”
Faith abruptly stopped walking, her jaw popping open as her blue eyes did the same. “You kissed him? Brooke, what were you thinking?”
“I didn’t know what was going to happen,” Brooke added quickly. “But he’s really charming. And you have to admit, he’s grown into his looks.” Despite herself, she felt a smile creep across her face.
Faith rolled her eyes, one fist thrust against her hip. “I know, he’s gorgeous. But he’s also Ian McCarthy. You can’t get too close to him. I know you; you’ll end up spilling everything.”
“So what if I did?” Brooke ventured, giving voice to a thought that had been forming in her mind since last evening. “Your dad is gone. We won’t be in any legal trouble. I think Ian needs to know the truth. It still hurts him, not knowing what happened. He wonders whether his mother suffered. We could assure him she didn’t.”
Faith’s slender eyebrows inched further upward. “What’s he going to think of us if he finds out that we knew all these years what happened to her and never told him?”
“I don’t know.”
“He won’t be kissing you again, that’s for sure,” Faith added tartly—just as Brandon yelped, his round, pink face crumpling. Pushing the stroller hastily forward, she continued along the road, making Brooke jog a few steps to keep pace with her. In a moment the baby relaxed, turning his head to the side with a sigh as he settled back into a contended sleep.
“Can you really go on pretending it doesn’t matter?” Brooke asked then.
Faith stared forward, her expression hardened. “You don’t think it still eats at me? Not just that I know what happened, but that it was my fault. I have to live with the guilt. While you’ve been away in Toronto, I’ve been stuck here, running into Ian all the time.”
Brooke blew out a sharp breath, her friend’s words piercing her heart. “It wasn’t your fault, Faith.”
“Of course it was. My dad was on the road that night because of me. If I hadn’t run away, and dragged you along, he wouldn’t have come after us, and it never would’ve happened.”
Brooke’s stomach clenched painfully as the memory of that night flooded her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to block it out. But she could still hear the sickening thud, and feel the truck jolt to a sudden stop, jerking the girls against their seatbelts; and after, the steady rumble of the truck’s engine as Ross jumped out and the girls sat and waited, the vapour of their breath pluming into the cold night air.
Her mind’s eye still held a clear image of the dark, still shape crumpled at the side of the road—a deer, Mr. Kinley told them, but Brooke would never forget the pair of human feet she saw, clad in white socks that glowed in the headlights as the truck pulled away. When she allowed herself to dwell on it, the stark horror of the moment still gripped her chest so fiercely that she could barely draw a breath.
“Maybe not that night,” she reminded Faith, shuddering in spite of the afternoon sun warm on her shoulders, “but he was always driving drunk. Someone was bound to get hurt.”
Gripping the stroller handles tightly in agitation, Faith shook her head adamantly. “You can’t tell Ian. We made a promise that we’d take this to the grave.” She glared at Brooke, her blue eyes sternly determined. “Don’t you remember?”
“But I thought—”
“Don’t go and open up old wounds, Brooke. It wouldn’t make anything better, for him or us. He’s made peace with the past. Telling him the truth might help relieve your guilt, but you’d only be hurting him in the process.”
Brooke didn’t reply, but she wasn’t at all sure Faith was right. Back when they were twelve years old, there had been good reason to keep the secret. Ross Kinley was an intimidating man, and they’d been terrified—not only of his wrath, but of what might happen to Faith and her brother if their father went to prison. In the midst of a grueling course of treatment for cancer, her mother wouldn’t have been able to care for two children on her own.
But that was all over n
ow; Faith’s parents were both gone. And Brooke couldn’t forget the look of despair in Ian’s eyes when he spoke of his mother, or the note of lingering pain in his voice when he talked about her death.
Faith slowed the stroller to a stop by the front step of McQuiggle’s Kitchen Nook. She bent closer to Brooke’s ear, lowering her voice as she spoke. “Besides, with the upcoming election, word of something like this would surely get out, and I don’t think you’d be doing Ted any favours by letting the whole town know his wife witnessed a hit and run that caused a death, and in the past eighteen years never told the police. You know it’s for the best, Brooke. Swear you’ll keep your promise not to tell.”
Unable to argue further, Brooke dipped her chin in a slow nod. “All right, Faith. I promise.”
* * *
Ian scanned the mass of people crowded on the lawn, hoping to catch sight of her. Every citizen of Eastport was welcome at the Eldridges’ annual backyard barbecue, and he guessed that this year several hundred of them had gathered on the neatly manicured lot behind the doctors’ home, lured by plumes of smoke rising over the gabled roof, carrying the aroma of grilling meat.
He wandered among the guests, nodding in greeting to those he passed, but not finding Brooke among them. Every June Ian attended this event, always hoping that she’d show up, though she never had. Though he’d long ago recovered from his crush, he’d never forgotten the girl he once yearned for, and he’d been curious over the years to see the woman she’d become.
Never had he expected his curiosity to be satisfied with a fiery kiss that he’d lie awake thinking about for the next three nights. But then, if there was one thing he could count on from Brooke, it was unpredictability.
By the patio he encountered Brian Eldridge wielding a spatula over the barbecue, methodically flipping burgers and hot dogs that sizzled temptingly as they slapped against the grill. Behind, a long table had been set up to display trays full of food and drinks, alongside stacks of plates, cups and cutlery.
Secret Vow Page 3
