He pulled a ledger across the desk and started checking material costs and invoice amounts. One thought kept strumming in the back of his head, reluctant to leave. Why was Faith West really here?
“Have you talked to Bea lately?” Faith asked, casting around for a safe subject as they walked across the grounds. The organic garden had surprised her, but only that it was well-tended with his mom gone. Neither of the boys used to have green thumbs.
Peter smiled. “I’m out there every few weeks since Mom died, hearing the stories of those two hellions growing up, stirring up trouble and taking names.”
“Firecrackers, the both of them,” she murmured. If she didn’t only write sad songs, one about a feisty friendship that spanned multiple decades, families and heartaches would have been a slam dunk.
“They were a lot alike. Knew what they wanted and went after it, damn every single consequence.” Faith shifted uncomfortably at his words, knowing there was tons more subtext there. Someone definitely took after their mother and her meddling best friend.
“Still beautiful as always,” she murmured, turning out into the land and trying to steer the conversation somewhere else.
“I could say the same about you, couldn’t I?”
Peter’s grin had Faith laughing. “Always the charmer, aren’t you?”
“Some things you just don’t grow out of.”
Faith slanted him a sideways look, thankful for the gazebo. Not only did they provide a picturesque view of the house but a moment to catch her bearings before replying to his leading comment. “It’s still so peaceful here, right here,” she said, sliding her hands over a well-worn section of railing. Her fingers found the small initials carved into the beam without even looking. She couldn’t look at them, afraid the emotions she was having a hard time tamping down would have her bursting into tears
“It can be. The sunsets are still spectacular, as are the stars.”
“I miss that,” Faith admitted. “Not enough open space to see any kind of stars at my house.”
“Well, not the gaseous kind but the celebrity kind, sure.”
“Some of those celebrity ones can be quite full of hot air, too.”
Peter laughed. “What, Miss Cheerful willingly calling someone a bag of hot air? My, times have changed.”
“I stopped being Miss Cheerful a long time ago, Peter.” That wasn’t entirely true though. She still wore that girl group persona more often than not. Took pride in it too, appearing hopeful and optimistic when the world got you down. A ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. One of the reasons she never sang an Andy Peters song, angst too discordant with the image she was still trying to perfect. But here, here she wanted to be a version of herself much closer to the truth.
“People change. You don’t see Tara St. Clair still rocking the sad skater look, do you?”
“That’s a horrible example,” Peter said. “Didn’t they put her on a psychiatric hold for attempted suicide due to depression?”
“How do you know that?” Faith asked, her eyes narrowing. “That never made the tabloids.”
Now it was Peter’s turn to look chagrined. “Maya mentioned it.”
“Oh.” Faith looked away, off into the distance. “You still talk to her.”
“And you don’t. She told me that you two had a falling out.”
Faith let out a bark of laughter, not at all amused. “Did she now?” That happens, Faith thought, when your best friend sells the movie script to your life. Attitunes bandmates, Urban Sista to her Girl Next Door, they had done everything together. She had known all of her secrets – and then sold them.
“Didn’t tell me what it was about.”
“That’s Maya, in love with mystery.”
“She works around here,” Peter offered. “Most well-respected large animal vet in the area.”
“That’s nice,” Faith said, thinking it was exactly the opposite. She didn’t want to think about all the people that had betrayed her. “Can we talk about something else please?”
“What?” Peter asked. “Because for someone who showed up on my doorstop, you’re amazingly noncommittal.”
She turned, meeting his honest gaze, and her brain sputtered to a halt. She should tell him, just get it out in the open so she could move past it. That’s why she’d come – not to see Dustin but to tell Peter, to make him do the dirty work she couldn’t do. Just spit it out, turn tail and run.
“I …” she began, the word divorce on the tip of her tongue, when a shrill sound scared her into silence.
“Sorry,” Peter said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and hitting a button.
“What is that?”
“Reminder to put dinner in the oven. It’s going off on my home computer, and if it’s not stopped in two minutes, it alerts my phone.”
“Let’s go take care of that,” Faith said.
“It can wait. You were saying?”
“I wasn’t saying anything,” she backpedalled, kicking herself for losing her nerve. She slipped past him and barreled down the gazebo steps. “Let’s go – I don’t want to be an imposition or anything. Don’t let me get in the way.”
“That’s you, East, Miss Inconspicuous,” he murmured, joining her on the trudge back to the house.
“For crying out loud, Peter, I’m trying to concentrate,” Dustin bellowed, finally succumbing to the irritation of the alarm and exiting his office. He made a beeline for Peter’s computer in the corner. Why the man had to use the kitchen as his workstation when he had a perfectly fine desk in the library upstairs, he’d never know.
Dustin pulled the cords of the speakers out of the wall, blessed silence, before noticing the message on the screen. Reminder to start dinner – did he have to do bloody everything? He’d already made the lasagna; all Peter had to do was heat the damn thing.
He pulled the pan out of the fridge and set it down on the counter none too gently before turning to preheat the oven. And where was his interfering twin? Off somewhere with Faith, having a lovely little chat about lemons and lyrics and lovesickness, he was sure.
He was breathing like a marathon runner again, his churlishness causing his blood pressure to rise. He looked out the kitchen window, trying to slow his breathing, and saw them approaching the house. He closed his eyes for strength but felt only anger pushing against his skin.
“Thanks for the interruption,” Dustin barked the minute the back door opened, before either of them had even stepped into the house.
“Sorry about that, Dust,” Peter apologized.
“That is the most annoying noise known to man. Why don’t you just make your alarm sound nails on the chalkboard or squealing brakes?”
“If I thought it would make me jump up any quicker, maybe I would.”
Dustin’s eyes tracked over to Faith. “You’re still here?” His voice was dripping with disdain.
“Man, you’re being a prick today,” Peter mumbled, taking a step to block Faith from his view as he opened the fridge.
“Just today? I must be slipping.” Dustin reached past Peter and grabbed a beer, popping the top and taking a long drag. He could feel Peter’s eyes on him, that chiding stare, but just kept staring straight ahead. There was a mirror on the wall, and he caught Faith’s reflection in it – her eyes unsteady when she didn’t think anyone could see her. His heart clenched, but he tried to push that away – he did not want to feel anything for her but anger.
“Figure out why she’s here yet?” Dustin asked, his tone harsh.
“I told you, I’m just passing through.”
“Yeah, that sounds real.” Dustin rolled his eyes and took another drink.
“Good thing I haven’t stopped in before, hospitality is seriously lacking,” Faith countered, stepping around Peter to lock eyes with Dustin.
“Oh, I’m sorry? Did you want us to roll out the red carpet? The conquering songstress returning home?” He set down his beer and turned towards her. “Except this isn’t your home, is it? You made
damn sure it wasn’t.”
“Why a field when you can have the French Riviera?” Faith said, hands tracking to her hips. It was something he used to ask her when they were together. Her usual response – fields, farms, or flophouses, the location didn’t matter as long as he was alongside her – wasn’t in sight today.
“I always knew that’s how you felt.” The oven beeped twice, and Dustin turned, grabbed a towel from the counter, and used it to put the pan of lasagna in the oven.
“Come on,” Peter said with a look of incredulity. “That’s insane, and you know it.”
“Really? And how would I know that? Because it’s been so touchy-feely in here for the last decade?”
“Since when are you a touchy-feely person? You hate talking about yourself or your emotions, anything even closely resembling a feeling actually,” Faith said.
“How would you know? You think you still know me? You don’t know anything about me anymore,” Dustin spat.
“You’re right, I don’t,” Faith said, throwing up her hands. “And if this is the person you are, I’m glad I don’t.”
Dustin opened his mouth to respond, his eyebrows drawn in resentment, but was interrupted when the kitchen door opened wide with a loud thwack.
“Hello, fabulous family!” The cheerful voice was a well-timed interruption, slicing through the palpable tension. The smile never left the teenage face as she noticed Faith. There was interest there but no fawning celebrity reaction. “You’re new,” she said, dropping a backpack near the door and approaching Peter to wrap her arms haphazardly around his torso.
“This is my daughter Harmony,” Peter said.
Surprise crossed Faith’s face, and the girl just laughed. “My mother was a bit granola. My sister’s name is Melody, and Mom used to like to say we were a family in perfect tune.”
“I don’t think that’s why she’s surprised, Peaches.” The girl looked confused for a moment before she smiled.
“Sometimes I forget,” Harmony said simply before crossing over to Dustin and giving him a hug. “Hi, Uncle Dust.”
“Hey, Harm,” he murmured, eyes still watching Faith.
Harmony turned in a small circle, surveying all of the adults in kind, before laughing. “What type of minefield did I just walk into?”
“A dangerous one,” her uncle grunted.
The girl waved that away. “I don’t think I got your name?” she said.
“It’s really not that important. She was just leaving anyway.”
Faith glared at Dustin before smiling at the teenager and responding. “Faith. My name’s Faith. My parents were a bit granola too.”
“I’d love to hear all about it. Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Peter warned.
Harmony crossed to the cupboard and grabbed a stack of plates. “Why not? You said I could invite whoever I wanted to dinner since it’s my celebration, remember? Well, I want to invite my new friend Faith here.” The seventeen-year-old smiled at her father, one Faith was sure she’d used many times to sway his opinion.
“She can’t stay. She has somewhere she needs to be, don’t you?” Dustin’s face was closed, drawn, and Faith couldn’t help but have a strong reaction to it. She hadn’t wanted to see him, true, but she wasn’t about to let him order her away. She had something to do, and she was going to stay until she got the nerve to do it.
“Actually, I don’t have any other place to be. I’d love to stay for dinner.”
“Excuse me,” Dustin said, throwing down the towel in his hand and stalking out of the room. The door to his study slammed with a definitive thwack. Peter gave his daughter an unamused look before following after his brother.
Harmony just shrugged and started setting the table. “So, what are we celebrating?” Faith asked.
“It is my seventh anniversary.” At the look on Faith’s face she continued. “Seven years ago today Peter adopted me, and I became an Andrews.”
Chapter 8
“I don’t want to hear it,” Dustin growled the minute Peter entered the room.
“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”
Dustin laughed, no humor, only derision, and turned from the window. He didn’t appreciate the view anyway; it was marred with an Audi. “Peter, you are the most predictable person in the world. Even if we weren’t twins I’d know exactly what you’re going to say.”
“Enlighten me then, bro.” Peter dropped down in front of the desk and propped his feet up on it.
“You’re going to ask what the hell has come over me. Then you’re going to ream me for being an oafish brute. Oh, and I bet there’s at least one ‘cut her some slack’ and a fairytale happy ending in there somewhere.”
Peter let a small grin touch his face. “I would have said asshole, not brute.”
Dustin scoffed and rolled his eyes, getting a glimpse of the shattered glass across the room. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath to calm himself. “I don’t want her here.”
Peter sighed. “Yes, you do. It’s why you’re fighting like hell to get her to leave.”
“That doesn’t make even one lick of sense. You use that logic on the impressionable minds of children?”
Peter slammed his hand against the grain of the desk, surprising Dustin into paying attention. “Damn it, Dustin, what do you take me for, an idiot? You want to lie to the world and her and yourself, fine, but don’t try and lie to me. You’re not that good at it.” Peter stood and glared down at his twin. “She’s here for a reason. She’s staying for dinner. Pull yourself together before Harmony figures out all your secrets.”
“Wonderful chat,” Dustin murmured as Peter made his way to the door.
“And,” he said, turning back with his hand on the doorknob, “cut the girl some slack. She had more guts than you did – she came back.”
Dinner was served, mounds of food that made Faith’s mouth water, not any of it vegan. She knew what Dustin’s comment would be to that admission, a roll of the eyes and snort of derision, so she didn’t say anything. She was vegan mostly because her cook was now vegan, a leftover Attitunes addition when her persona had changed from vegetable-loving hippie flower child to that smiley girl next door. She’d grown to love Pearl, even if she wouldn’t feed her dairy anymore.
The meal only vaguely resembled the ones Faith used to eat in the house. The oak table remained the same, grounding everything in tradition, but the hospitality was missing, something she’d surely scared away with her ill-conceived visit. She could feel the absence of their mother as well, always guiding the conversation to places both entertaining and innocuous.
There was conversation, Harmony a chatty spitfire doing her best to charm information from her father and uncle and failing spectacularly. Faith was instantly taken with the girl and knew that her special celebration was being ruined by Faith’s appearance and the black clouds over the male heads. When the conversation lapsed into silence for a third time, she decided to enter the fray.
“Peter, do you still have that crazy motorcycle?”
“You used to have a motorcycle?” Harmony asked, her eyes going wide. “That is awesome. Were you a Hell’s Angel? How much leather did you own?”
“I guess that’s a no.” Faith laughed.
“Hard no. I gave that thing up years ago. Crashed it once into a ditch, not a tree thank goodness, and decided I like transportation with walls.”
“That’s not entirely true,” said Harmony. She paused to take a bite of lasagna before continuing. “You still like riding horses. Not as much as Uncle Dust, but does anyone really like horses as much as him?”
The table fell into uncomfortable silence. Dustin’s love of horses had been a huge beacon in their relationship. An argument could be made for the two of them falling in love on horseback, lonely trails he led her down as he taught her to ride and stole her heart. What else would you expect from a riding instructor? Faith hadn’t been near a horse
in a decade. Just the mention of the animal caused her heart to strum painfully in her chest.
Faith floundered around for a safe topic. “So Peter, you got married.” The table got even quieter at her question – evidently that wasn’t it.
He looked down at the wedding ring on his left hand and reached a hand out for Harmony’s, fondness written all over his face. “Best three days of my life.”
“What is it about Andrews men? Short marriages must be written in our DNA somewhere, eh Ally?”
Harmony’s eyes got wide at his words. “Ally? Not the Ally?! I thought your name was Faith?”
“Her name is Faith. Your uncle’s just always called West here, Ally.” There was an uncomfortable silence after Peter’s words.
“Wait, West. Faith West?!” Harmony squealed.
“It’s just a day of surprises, isn’t it?” Dustin growled.
“The Faith West. Seriously?!”
“In the flesh,” Faith murmured with a weak smile.
Harmony turned her attention to her father and uncle, her eyes tracking between them quickly like she was watching a ping-pong match. “You guys know Faith West? And you never mentioned it?!”
“We don’t know her,” Dustin said, his voice hollow. “We knew her. Long time ago. Demons laid to rest.”
“Excuse me,” Faith said, rising as her composure finally crumbled. “I need some air.”
“You are the worst sister ever.” Harmony rolled her eyes at the screen of her phone and the blonde with faintly purple hair. “You text me cryptic things then send me a picture of Uncle Dust talking with Faith West, and I have to wait…” Melody glanced down at her watch. “Eighteen minutes before you chat me with details. Shameful.”
“You do not even know the half of it. He knows her. Like knows her knows her.”
Melody frowned. “He didn’t say anything when we saw her at the restaurant. You’re sure?”
“Mel, she’s Ally.”
“Shut Up!”
“No, seriously, she is. He called her Ally. I didn’t even realize who she was until dinner was almost over, and Dad let it slip. Obviously you recognized her right away, but I did not. Then again, I’m not obsessed with her like you are.” Harmony’s lips quirked as her sister let that comment slide by. “Is this proof, do you think?”
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