by Wendy Vella
“I’ll make us some food.” He kissed her softly and then she was alone…her body weak, mind swirling. He unbalanced her, stripped her raw with the need she felt for him.
Turning off the water, she stepped out and dried herself. Pulling on her damp panties, she gathered up her running clothes, then wandered into his bedroom. Grabbing a T-shirt from the pile of neatly folded clothes on the end of his bed, she pulled it over her head. Then, using his hairbrush, she attempted to untangle the knots in her hair. The smell of coffee greeted her as she reached the kitchen and she smelled grilled cheese sandwiches and realized she was starving.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Smell good?” Jake watched Branna drop her stuff by the door, then walk around his breakfast bar and sit on one of the stools.
“It does, and makes me realize that it’s been way too long since I ate anything.”
“All that exercise has to tire you out.”
She didn’t answer, just took the coffee he handed her.
“You have to see him some time, Branna.”
The cup had been halfway to her mouth, but she lowered it, placing it carefully on the bench before her.
“No, I don’t.”
Jake hated that particular expression of hers. The blank one that told him nothing of what she was feeling. He realized that he knew most of her expressions now.
“He’s not going anywhere, Rosebud. He’ll stay until you do.”
“As long as he keeps away from me, I don’t care.”
“Now, that’s a lie; he’s your father, you care.” Taking a sandwich out of the pan, he put it on a plate, then slid it in front of her. “This thing between you is not going away.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I do.”
“Leave it, Jake.” Her face was shuttered.
“Come on, Branna, the man is living with my parents, so every time I go there I see him and he talks to me. Tells me about you and what you mean to him. Give him a chance to at least tell you his side of the story.”
“I didn’t ask your parents to take him in, nor did I ask Declan O’Donnell to come here, so don’t tell me what I have to do, Jake. I’m an adult and can make my own decisions.”
“So what, you’re just going to avoid him? Stay out of Howling until he hopefully leaves?”
“Don’t talk to me about avoidance, McBride.” She tore the crust off the sandwich and then began to shred it between her fingers. “You spent years learning to heal with those hands,” she pointed to the one he held a spatula in. “Don’t you think it’s about time you faced up to why you walked away from that?”
“We’re not talking about me.” Jake put another sandwich into the pan, because he needed to do something.
“So, it’s okay for you to poke at my raw spots, but I can’t do the same? Or are your demons more important than mine?”
“You know what happened and my reasons why I walked away, Branna.”
“And that’s it?” She was angry now, her body rigid, eyes flashing. “You were traumatized, so case closed. You’re just giving up on what you love? You going to stay hidden here, Jake, tucked away from the world and the career that you dedicated years and years of your life to?”
He was back there again, with the blood and screams of the children. Their eyes pleading with him to take away their pain, live or die, they didn’t care; they just wanted to be free of it.
“You know nothing about it.” Jake tended to get ugly when people made him face the fact that he no longer did what he was born to do.
“And you know nothing about me either.” She was standing now, hands clenched into tight fists.
“He’s your father, Branna. The man raised you and from what I can tell, he’s not a bad guy. He deserves at least a chance to talk to you.” Jake tried to sound calm and reasonable, but his words were cold and clipped. His palms had begun to sweat and his head was filled with visions, but no one looking at him would know what was going on inside. Just like Branna, he’d learned to hide.
“I deserved more from him!” she cried. “I deserved his love and comfort, but he gave me nothing, turned his back and forgot me. I don’t have to forgive him anything.”
“I understand what you’re saying, Branna,” Jake put the spatula down and moved to face her across the bench. But I think it will help you if you at least just talk to him, and if you can’t find a way forward, then you will have given it a shot, and he can leave knowing he tried.”
Her face was flushed and she was breathing fast. She was staring at him as if he’d betrayed her and maybe in her eyes he had, because he was forcing her to face something she didn’t want to face. He didn’t want to acknowledge that she was trying to do the same with him.
“And, what about you, McBride? Are you going to find a way forward, or live in this town fixing cars, while your adoring public make excuses as to why one of their golden boys copped out on life?”
“I didn’t cop out.” Jake braced his hands on the bench. I just don’t want to be a doctor anymore.” His words were a low growl, which most people would realize meant he was angry, but not her, she simply growled back.
“If that is truly the case, then fine, but will that choice make you happy? Can you say that, Jake? Say you’re really happy not doing what you love?”
“We are not talking about me, Branna, we’re talking about you,” Jake said slowly, keeping his words even, when inside his body was a furnace of seething emotion.
She placed her hands before his and leaned forward, their eyes now level. Hers shot green sparks at him, little lasers of hurt and anger.
“You can’t say it because you’re not; in fact, you’re miserable. I see the sadness in your eyes, the sorrow that grips you when you don’t think I’m looking. It hurts that you’re not practicing medicine anymore, hurts way down deep that you’re not helping people.”
“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.” But she did, because she was the only one to have ever spoken to him this way, the only one who made Jake face how hard it would be to give up medicine for the rest of his life.
“Oh, I know all right. I know you’re scared and that you’re hurting,” she said, backing away from him. “Because I’ve been scared and hurt too, Jake, but I don’t need you or my father, because I’ve survived without you both and I will do so again.”
Before he could reach her, she’d left, slamming the door behind her, and Jake stood rooted to the spot replaying her words in his head.
“If that is truly the case, then fine, but will that choice make you happy? Can you say that, Jake? Say you’re really happy not doing what you love?”
He stood at that sink as his sandwich went cold, and didn’t fight the memories as they filled his head.
The day he left here to go to medical school, the day he graduated. It all came back. And then he was there in Iraq, standing in what had once been a school. The bomb had ripped through the place, killing and maiming, and he’d done what he could for days until he could do no more. His mind had gone blank as he worked, and then Ethan had come and taken him back to base. When he woke after two days of sleeping, his head was filled with what he had witnessed. After the first consult, he’d refused help; no shrink was getting into his head and he’d come home to heal. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d placed a temporary bandage over his pain and then locked it all away and just existed.
Branna was right, he had been surly and punished those closest to him and the people he cared about had accepted his behavior because, unlike him, they believed in him and that one day he would once again be a doctor.
Picking up the phone, he rang Ethan.
“I need that appointment now, today or tomorrow.” He listened to Ethan tell him that he’d make a call and get back to him. Minutes later, his cell rang and it was the Texan telling him to be ready as he was flying over to pick him up.
After that, Jake called his father and told him to keep an eye on Branna, then Annabell
e to ask her to stay with Branna at night.
“None of your business, Annabelle, just stay with her till I get back.” Disconnecting the call as she asked another question, Jake then called Buster.
“I’m going to be out of town with Ethan for a few days, Buster, watch over Branna for me.”
His friend didn’t ask questions, just said he would and Jake knew she’d be safe until he returned to straighten out the mess he’d just made with her.
He was ready when he heard the thunder of Ethan’s helicopter approach. Picking up his cell phone, he sent a text to Branna, telling her he was going to be out of town for a few days and that he would see her as soon as he got back. He finished with the word “sorry,” because in all honesty he didn’t know what else to say. Picking up his duffle, he walked out the back door to the paddock Ethan was landing in. Ducking under the blades, he opened the door and climbed in. Strapping himself in, he put on his headphones and then they were in the air again.
Branna stood at the window and watched Ethan’s helicopter rise in the air and disappear. She’d gotten Jake’s text, but didn’t reply, because she had no idea what to say. Her eyes were raw from crying and acid had formed in her stomach at the thought of the words they’d said to each other. Where was he going and why had he left? She missed him already, and that annoyed her, because it meant she cared…which she already knew, but now she really cared because the pain was bad.
“And that, you idiot, is why you don’t form attachments to people,” Branna muttered as she finished dressing.
Heading downstairs, she grabbed her keys and handbag and left the house. Her father had kept her out of Howling and Jake was right about one thing, he wasn’t keeping her away any longer. She needed supplies and if she saw him, she’d nod her head and walk away. Declan O’Donnell wasn’t the kind of man to make a fuss any more than she would. He wouldn’t force a confrontation between them, so she was safe there.
She thought about the argument she and Jake had. They’d struck at each other in their most vulnerable places, the places that because of their growing closeness were bound to eventually be exposed. They’d both been hiding with no wish to come out and because of this they had hurt each other. Maybe they were best apart? Her heart ached at the thought of not seeing him again or feeling his body close to hers.
“Damn, I love him” The realization had her pulling off the road while she recovered from the shock. How the hell had that happened?
Shaking her head, she restarted the car and slowly drove into town. She could hide her feelings, he need never know, or maybe she would tell him? What? Are you crazy, O’Donnell? Love made you vulnerable; she knew that, so why the hell would she contemplate exposing herself to that again?
Because he’d made her feel again, made her remember what it was like to be part of someone and not just a cold emotional shell that went through the routine of day to day life, convincing herself she was happy.
Branna found a parking spot on the main street and for once the quaint beauty of the town didn’t make her smile. Climbing out of the car, she walked slowly down the street, nodding and acknowledging people as thoughts tumbled around inside her head. Could she put herself back together if Jake was no longer in her life? How would she cope if another person she loved turned away from her?
When was he coming back?
Pushing open the door to the drugstore, she went inside.
“Hey, Branna, we got some more of that lotion you like in for you.”
“Oh, hi, Mr. Pike, and thanks, I’m just about out.” Picking up a few things, she paid for them and the lotion before leaving.
The thing was, Branna was starting to feel like she belonged here. The big cities she lived in were not good for a person who kept to herself, but like her hometown in Ireland, Howling embraced people.
“I’m finished with my cookies, Branna.”
“I’ll get to it, Jilly,” Branna said, as she made her way into the grocery store. “Or you could try and bake some for yourself.”
“I can’t cook.”
This was what happened in small towns, you got involved or you didn’t, which sounded simple, but if you didn’t you were a hermit who everyone talked about.
“Why can’t you cook?” Picking up some bread, Branna put it in her basket before looking at the girl. Today, her hair was spiked blood red.
“Mom’s just not big on baking.”
“You want me to teach you?” Branna said, before she could stop herself. She had a book to finish by deadline and then revisions, plus several other things that needed her attention and let’s not mention the fact that she was meant to be the reclusive type.
Jake had done this to her, he’d made her open up like a bloody flower and now she was having a hell of time closing.
You better come back soon, McBride.
She headed to The Hoot after making arrangements with Jilly for her first cooking lesson. She’s wasn’t feeling social, but then Buster wasn’t big on talk either, so she’d just slip out back, and sit and watch the scenery, eat her muffin, then go home and think some more.
“You bring that face in here and you’ll scare away my customers, O’Donnell.”
Branna forced her lips upwards. “Sorry, just thinking, Buster. How you doing?”
“I’m good. You want a muffin and coffee?”
“Thanks, I’ll just go sit out back if that’s okay?”
Buster’s lips tilted, which Branna knew was a smile. “You a paying customer or planning on doing a runner?”
“Paying.”
“Well, you get to sit then.”
She found a table that looked out the big window and Branna refused to acknowledge that maybe she would see Ethan’s helicopter come back into town if she sat here long enough. She was halfway through her muffin, which she was sure had pineapple in it, but Buster refused to confirm or deny that ingredient, when she heard his voice. The deep Irish rumble.
She’d gone to sleep many nights lying on her father’s chest while he’d read her stories and sat at his feet as he sang her songs. It was a voice she still heard in her head, no matter how much she’d tried to remove it.
Looking out the window, Branna willed him away before he saw her. He was talking with Buster, asking about the pies and complimenting the cook. Her father had always been good with people; he could subdue the angry and make anyone smile…it had been his gift. The gift of trust. It was instinctive. He’d charmed her teachers and made every man feel as if they were friends, but like her, all that had changed with the death of his wife.
She looked at the hills in the distance, counted the rises and dips and knew he was coming towards her even before she heard the sound of his steps.
“Branna, will you let me talk to you?”
“We have nothing to say to each other.” She kept her eyes on the window.
“I think we do, daughter.”
He’d brought her up to respect her elders and even though she had no wish to look at him, manners dictated to her from birth said she must, so she turned, keeping all expression from her face.
“If we talk, then will you leave Howling?”
“If that’s your wish.”
He stood a few feet from her, dressed in worn jeans and a shirt that had a missing button. He’d always had no idea of the appeal he had to women and she and her mother had often laughed at the surprise on his face when they’d pointed out a woman looking at him.
But why would I care when the only women I want to look at me are my own.
He was only eighteen years her senior and had aged well, despite the grief he had suffered. His black hair was peppered with more grey now and in need of a cut and she saw a few lines on his face that had not been there when last they had met, but his green eyes were still clear and bright. He was tall, about Jake’s height and his body lean. Branna knew he did nothing to keep it that way, but like her, did not put on weight easily.
“I will talk with you, but have no wish for anyon
e to overhear us. I have to live in this town; you don’t.” Branna was pleased her voice sounded calm.
“Then I will speak quietly and if anyone comes in, I shall discuss the weather.”
She didn’t smile as he teased her, instead nodding as he took the seat across from her. She felt his eyes on her as she looked down at her muffin. If she ate anymore, the beautiful flavors would now blend together in her mouth and taste like dust.
“Firstly, I want to start with an apology, though God alone knows why you would forgive me. Were I in your stead, I certainly would not.” His accent, like hers, was thicker when he was emotional.
“I turned from you, my only child, at a time when you most needed me. My grief was so consuming I could see nothing beyond it.”
Branna relaxed the fist she’d formed around the muffin and put her hands in her lap. She didn’t want to relive those days again, dredge up the pain and misery, but she said nothing. Head lowered, she would let him talk, then she’d get up and walk away and never have to see him again.
“I have no excuse for shutting myself away from you, Branna, only that I did not know how to go on without your mother. It was as if the light had suddenly gone from my life and I lived only in darkness.”
I should have been your light too.
“I went through the motions of making your lunch and cooking and clothing you, but I could do nothing else. The psychiatrist the school made me see said I was suffering from clinical depression and that a change would be the best thing for us. I spoke to your teachers before deciding to come here, and they said you were a quiet but studious girl, who seemed to be coping quite well with the loss of your mother.”
She’d become very good at hiding.
“So, we came here and I watched as you apparently settled into your new school. You didn’t ask me for anything besides the necessities and you did your homework and made no demands on me, and I thought that meant you were doing okay, which left me time to grieve and wallow in my pain. I gave you no time until the day I found a flyer you’d left in your room. It said you were part of a band that was singing at lunchtime that day, so I went along to watch and it was that day I realized I’d lost you, because the child who had once told me everything had kept this from me.”
