“You don’t have to do that, either,” he told her, keeping his eyes on the road. It wasn’t traffic that he anticipated. Hades didn’t experience traffic problems no matter what time of day. But the occasional moose or deer still wandered into town and he would have hated hitting one of them. On a day like today, given his lulled reflexes, he knew he had to remain extra alert.
“Yes, I do,” Irena insisted firmly. “It’s the least I can do in exchange for your going with me to the funeral parlor. And besides, I like being busy.”
Brody quietly sighed and shook his head. “I’m not going to argue with you.”
“Good, because you wouldn’t win.” She grinned. “Don’t forget, I argue for a living.”
He laughed then. “You couldn’t have picked a better vocation if you tried.”
The sound of her laughter in response was like music to him.
Allen Brothers Funeral Parlor was one of the oldest buildings in Hades. It was also one of the smallest. Given the town’s population, however, the size was adequate. Nathan Allen, the thirty-year-old grandson of the original proprietor, had even sold off the eastern side of the wooden building to his Aunt Jennie, his father’s older sister. Jenny Allen turned the small space into a flower shop, supplying flowers for the graves and, on occasion, bouquets to be bought by smitten young men for the objects of their affections. Competition for women was an ongoing endeavor in Hades, even with the increased influx of new citizens.
The building smelled musty, Irena thought as she entered quietly. As musty as it had smelled the day she’d walked in, clutching her mother’s hand, to see her father laid out in a coffin. That was the last time she’d been inside the funeral parlor.
A feeling of déjà vu slipped over her.
But there were some differences.
Unlike with her father, the coffin wasn’t open this time. Brody had warned her about that. The lid was firmly closed, making one last glimpse of Ryan a foregone impossibility.
Her heart ached in her chest as she approached. The words, “What if?” echoed over and over again in her brain like a needle stuck in a groove of an old-fashioned record.
Feeling as if she were moving in slow motion, Irena cautiously approached the coffin. After a beat, she raised her hand and ran it along the smooth, highly polished wood. Ryan was in there. Or what was left of him. His shell.
As if in a trance, she feathered her fingers along the edge of the lid. And then she slowly began to raise it.
The next moment, Brody had his hand over hers, pressing it gently down again. “You really don’t want to do that,” he whispered against her ear.
“Yes, I do,” she answered, turning her head to look at him. “Brody, I need to say goodbye.”
Continuing to keep his hand on hers, he slowly moved her hand from the lid. “You did that ten years ago,” he reminded her. “Keep that image in your head,” he urged. “The way Ryan looked then. You don’t need to see him the way he wound up. The way I had to see him,” he added solemnly.
It was going to take him a long, long time to get that image out of his head, Brody thought. And a long time for him to shed his anger and forgive Ryan for the terrible, wasteful thing he had done.
Brody saw the struggle in her eyes. Saw that the moment he withdrew his hand, she would open the lid. He couldn’t let her do it. As much as he would grant her anything, this one thing he couldn’t allow her to do. For her own sake.
“Do it for me,” he urged quietly.
For a moment, Irena wavered, the need to see warring with the need to remember. And then she nodded. His eyes remained on hers as he slowly lifted his hand away. He was leaving her on her honor.
Irena let her hand drop to her side.
“All right,” she agreed in a subdued voice. “For you.”
They remained a few more minutes, spending the time in silence. Brody waited patiently as Irena stood beside the coffin. Her eyes welled up with tears. Without a word, Brody offered her a handkerchief. She accepted it and dried her eyes, then handed it back to him.
Looking down at the casket, she exhaled a breath pregnant with emotion.
“Goodbye, Ryan,” she whispered. Raising her head, she glanced at Brody. Forcing her mouth to curve in a small smile, she said, “Okay, let’s go.”
He took her arm without a word and ushered her out of the building. He heard her take in a deep, shaky breath the moment they were outside.
“Sure you want to come along?” he pressed, concerned how all this had affected her. “I can easily take you back to your grandfather’s house.” He nodded in the direction they’d come from.
Irena noticed that Brody hadn’t offered to take her to her mother’s old house, the house he’d helped get up and running. He didn’t want her to be alone, she concluded.
Ever since she could remember, Brody had always tried his best to look after her. A warm fondness filtered through her.
“I’m sure,” she assured him. And then she smiled at him, tucking both arms around his. “Besides, I want to see what you’ve been up to these last ten years.”
The Irena he remembered would have understood, would have been part of what he was doing. But it had been ten years since she’d been gone. People changed a lot in ten years. He had no doubts that she had long since outgrown both him and Hades.
“Nothing earth-shattering,” he answered. “Just doing my part.”
“And everyone else’s, if I know you,” she added knowingly.
She knew for a fact that Brody had always felt he had to make up for both his father’s and his brother’s behavior, as if life was some kind of large ledger comprised of debits and credits and it was up to him to balance his family’s ledger.
Brody Hayes had to be the most unselfish person she’d ever had the good fortune to know.
He shrugged off her words. He knew she meant them as a compliment, not a criticism, but attention had always made him uncomfortable.
“When I need to,” he allowed. Brody glanced down at her hands. She had beautifully manicured nails, he thought again. There was a light sheen to them. She still didn’t care for colored nail polish, he surmised. “You’re going to be breaking nails as well as hammering them.”
Irena grinned. The idea of hammering nails, of channeling some of the tension still humming inside of her because of her impulsive behavior last night, pleased her.
“That doesn’t frighten me, you know,” she informed him playfully, then raised her chin and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’ve never been afraid of hard work.”
“What have you been afraid of?” The question slipped out naturally, but the moment it did, he regretted it. The question was far too probing.
To his relief, she didn’t shut down or back away. Instead, she replied flippantly, “Not much.” Then, in a more sober tone, added, “Except maybe having too much time on my hands.”
He liked the feel of having her arms wrapped around his, even if there were bulky jackets in between. He liked having her close like this, if but for a moment. “And why’s that?”
Damn it, if only she hadn’t loved Ryan—didn’t love Ryan…
She got into Brody’s car and buckled up. “If I have too much time on my hands, I start to think, to second guess myself, to reexamine things, and there’s really no point in that except to drive myself crazy.” Brody started the car and she settled in. “No one wants to hire a crazy lawyer and I can’t go back in time and change things.”
“What things would you change if you could?” he asked.
She looked at his profile for a long moment. “Just things,” she whispered under her breath.
He knew what he wanted her to mean by the comment—that she regretted not realizing that he loved her, that he was the one who would always be faithful to her, not Ryan. She probably meant that, given a second chance, she wouldn’t have left Hades. Would have forgiven Ryan his wandering ways and tried hard to make him settle down.
Who knows, maybe it would h
ave worked. But he had his doubts. And anyway, they’d never have any way of knowing.
They were on the road to the reservation now. Lapsing into silence, Irena looked around as Brody drove. Daylight brightened the desolate scenery.
Nothing had changed, she thought again. This was timeless. It would be this desolate long after they were all gone. There would be no—
Irena squinted, trying to make out if there was something up ahead. There was. It was another vehicle. Except that it was just sitting in the middle of the road, as if posing for a travelogue photograph.
Irena could see that someone was in the car.
“Who’s that?” she asked, turning toward Brody.
“Not sure yet,” he answered, stepping down on the accelerator.
It seemed like an odd place to just pull over, she thought. “Why isn’t he moving?”
“That’s what I intend to find out,” Brody answered, then smiled at her. She was asking the same questions he was. “Looks like we still think alike.”
“Looks like,” she agreed. And for some reason, she realized, she found that oddly comforting.
Chapter Seven
As they drew closer, Brody recognized the hunched, tall, gaunt old man standing beside a truck. It was hard to say which looked the worse for wear, the old man or the truck he mournfully regarded. The man, Ed Fox, was one of the Kenaitze elders. The tribe’s population was slowly dwindling.
Brody rolled down his window and called out, “Hi, Ed, anything wrong?”
Ed didn’t even turn to see who was talking to him. All his attention was focused on the vehicle that had incurred his ire and displeasure. “Yes, something’s wrong. The damn truck quit running.”
Brody got out of his car to investigate. “You can stay here,” he told Irena just before he shut the door.
“I could,” she agreed as she got out on her side. It wasn’t in her just to sit on the sidelines no matter what was going on. Especially not when the sidelines were cold. “But I won’t.”
Brody suppressed a smile. He’d known she would come out. The Irena he remembered never hung back.
He turned his attention to the old man. Ed was murmuring under his breath in his native tongue. From the expression on the elder’s lined, weather-beaten face, Brody judged that Ed wasn’t saying anything favorable.
Opening the truck’s door, he climbed into the driver’s seat. “I didn’t know you had a truck, Ed.” Brody turned the key in the ignition. A whisper of a noise greeted him. That was the sound of the engine not turning over, he thought, trying again. Same results.
Ed scowled. It was apparent to Irena that the old man didn’t like being in a helpless position.
“I don’t. I’ve got a piece of junk. Stupid new old truck,” he spat out, kicking a tire.
Getting out, Brody opened the hood to investigate. The engine was filthy. There was a snowy substance around the battery terminals and an odd, acrid smell rising up to his nose. As an armchair mechanic, there was nothing going on here that he could adequately address. This was a job for a professional.
He closed the hood again and turned to the old man. “I could have it towed into town and have June take a look at it.”
Ed’s scowl deepened. “Don’t have money for that,” he replied. He appeared pained by the admission.
Brody shrugged off the response. “Don’t worry about it.”
The old man eyed him sharply. “I don’t take no charity.”
“I wasn’t offering any,” Brody said mildly. He knew the kind of pride he was up against. “We’ll come up with a fair exchange.” He took a step back to get a better view of the truck. Because of his interactions with the people on the reservation, he was aware of most of their vehicles. “When did you get this?”
Ed shoved his hands into his heavy sheepskin jacket. “Last week. Figured I needed a truck to get around.” He frowned again. “Can’t be depending on other people all the time. Finally got enough to go see a used car dealer in Anchorage.” The tribal elder slanted a glance at the woman with Brody, but if he was curious about her, it didn’t show. “He told me that this one was a honey.” He made a disparaging noise. “Ask me, it’s pretty sour for a honey.”
“Anyone go with you?”
Pride hardened the leathery features as Ed raised his head. “Don’t need anyone to hold my hand. I’ve been doing things on my own since before your daddy ever met your mama.”
Brody gently tiptoed around the elder’s pride. He knew how easily that could be damaged.
“I know, but sometimes it helps to have someone take a second view of things.” He threw in a cliché for good measure. “Two heads are better than one.”
“My head’s just fine on its own,” Ed informed him indignantly. “That guy at the lot back in Anchorage was a damn crook.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “And I’m out five thousand dollars.”
Brody appraised the dark-blue vehicle skeptically. He wasn’t all that familiar with trucks, but he was vaguely aware of the fact that the model was somewhere around ten, fifteen years old. And it was in less than stellar condition. It wasn’t worth half the money that Ed had paid for it.
He glanced toward the dashboard. The odometer was obscured. “How many miles are on it?”
Ed shrugged, as if that was of no consequence. “About 190,000. The salesman said that was a sign that it was a good truck,” he added. “Because it’s been going for so long.” There was a defensive note in the elder’s voice, as if he knew Brody thought he’d made a mistake in buying the truck. An opinion he now shared.
“What was his name?” Both men turned to look at Irena as she asked the question. “The salesman who sold it to you, what was his name?” she pressed.
“It was on the bill of sale,” Ed finally said. He tried to recall what was written on the contract. “Phil something-or-other.”
“Do you still have the receipt?” she asked Ed.
“Yeah.” And then he paused, thinking. His tone was less hostile as he added, “Someplace.”
She nodded, as if she understood how life could get away from you, leaving behind a not-too-neat trail of papers.
“Find it for me,” she requested. “Maybe we can get ‘Phil’ to give you your money back.”
For once the skepticism left the old man’s face. In its place was surprise. “Really?”
Irena knew she was going out on a limb, but she also felt that she could deliver. Still, it was always wise to remain conservative. “I’m not making any promises, but…maybe,” she concluded, smiling at the man.
“In the meantime,” Brody said, opening the passenger door behind where Irena had been sitting, “we’ll give you a ride back to the reservation.”
Ed looked dubiously at the truck. It was obvious that he didn’t want to leave it here like this. “What about my truck?”
“I’ll call June once we get to the reservation. She’ll have someone come out to tow it to her shop,” Brody promised.
Ed nodded his approval of the plan. “Okay. Thank you,” he added stoically.
Satisfied, the old man climbed into the backseat, wrapping himself up in a blanket of pride.
“Not that I don’t think you can work magic,” Brody began once they had dropped Ed off at his house on the outskirts of the reservation, “but just how are you going to get this Phil what’s-his-name to give Ed his money back? This is a used car salesman we’re talking about. They customarily have hides as tough as rhinos. He’ll come back at you and say the sale was made in good faith.”
To his surprise, Irena nodded her head in agreement. “Most likely.”
Had she just said what she had to placate the old man, to calm him down until he reconciled himself to losing his money? “Then what—?”
“That’s what he’ll say,” she emphasized. “Doesn’t mean that Phil-what’s-his-name’ll get away with it.” She smiled serenely. “Especially if I threaten to hit him where it hurts.”
He made a right turn at the fork in
the road. “Meaning?”
“Meaning this Phil character relies on his reputation to continue making sales, especially in times like this. If someone were to, say, tell him that they planned to have all the local papers carry the story of how he took advantage of a poor Kenaitze elder, cheating him out of his hard-earned savings by misrepresenting the reliability of the truck he sold him, well, Phil-what’s-his-name just might not want that to happen.”
He could see the value of that. Moreover, he could see her doing it. Brody grinned, nodding his head. “Might just work.” And then he regarded her for a second as he drove to the meeting place. “You know, you’re sneakier than you used to be.”
She took it as a compliment. “That’s because I’m a lawyer now.”
Brody laughed, shaking his head as he parked his four-wheel drive vehicle in front of the schoolhouse. Many of the tribal children still went here, choosing to remain with their own rather than to attend the elementary school in Hades.
He’d no sooner brought the car to a halt when several people emerged from the building. A tall, muscular and stately man who looked to be in his mid-thirties led the group.
“Thought maybe you changed your mind,” he said to Brody by way of a greeting. Sharp eyes the color of coal slid over the woman next to Brody and swiftly made assessment. “See why you were late.”
Brody glanced at Irena to see if the assumption bothered her. He was relieved to see it didn’t. “Not so late,” Brody pointed out.
“We stopped to pick Ed Fox up,” she told him.
A hint of a smile settled on the man’s lips. “Lucky Ed.”
It was a nice smile, Irena decided, with no apparent agenda to it. “Not so lucky. The truck he bought is a lemon.”
The other man shook his head, but his expression said he’d expected nothing else. “Told Ed to wait for me to go with him,” he told Brody, “but that old man likes to walk his own path. Stubborn as hell.”
Brody looked at him pointedly before saying, “A lot of that going around.”
The smile transformed into a grin, softening the man’s sharp features. “Yeah, but I’m always right.” He turned toward her. “Matthew Long Wolf,” he said, putting his hand out to her.
Loving the Right Brother Page 7
