by Brenda Novak
“Actually, it was the night before.”
“Where’d you stay?”
She’d stayed at Mack and Grady’s—Rod was now married and had moved out—in her old room, where she’d spent the happiest years of her life. It had been wonderful to be back, to feel that sense of home. And she’d been so excited to see Mack. Each time she came back to Whiskey Creek, she thought something might change between them. That he’d finally act on what she believed he felt. That he’d realize they were meant to be together. But he’d been as careful as ever to avoid saying or doing anything that could be construed as romantic.
Apparently, he didn’t love her the way she loved him. Or he wouldn’t let himself. He was hung up on the nine-year age difference between them and the fact that his brothers considered her a kid sister.
“Where do you think I stayed?” she asked. “In my old room.”
“Why didn’t you call me? Why’d you lead me to believe you didn’t reach town until you came to my house?”
Natasha pretended to be too busy navigating the crowd to maintain eye contact. “I didn’t lead you to believe anything.”
“But... You had to know that’s what I would assume.”
“Does it matter? Now that Dylan, Aaron and Rod are married, they have so much extra room at the house. And I knew I’d be seeing you soon.”
Anya scowled. “Oh, I get it. Well, I’m sorry I can’t provide what they can.”
Hearing her mother’s injured tone, Natasha took her hand. “Oh, stop. Your house might be a little cramped, but I don’t mind sleeping in your bedroom.” She didn’t mention the many strangers who filled the living room almost every night, using the place as a flophouse. They made her uncomfortable, but her mother called them friends.
“I would’ve liked to go to the Amoses’ with you,” she said. “Why didn’t you invite me?”
They’d been polite enough to include Anya in the past, but Natasha knew in her heart that they’d rather not have her around. So she’d come to town before her mother was expecting her, and she’d gone to visit the Amos brothers alone. That way, she wouldn’t have to ask them—again—if she could bring Anya. And it had worked out so well. She’d really enjoyed not having to worry about what her mother might say or do. Anya embarrassed her too often. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal to you. You live here. You must see them all the time.”
“I run into them now and then, especially J.T. I can’t seem to avoid him. But it’s different since we divorced. I miss the boys, would like to spend more time with them.” They paused to let another group cut through to reach a booth selling clam chowder. “What’d you do while you were there?”
“Just visited,” she replied, but that wasn’t strictly true. Mack had invited his brothers and their wives and children to come over and see her and have a big Christmas dinner. Everyone had brought a dish, and she’d exchanged gifts with them.
Some carolers, dressed in Dickens garb, were singing “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” Natasha kept hold of her mother’s hand as they navigated around the foursome.
“Was J.T. there?” her mother asked, raising her voice to be heard over the music.
“No.” At least that was true.
“Where was he?”
“At his house, I suppose. I swung by, once I was on the way to your place, to drop off his Christmas present, but we didn’t talk long. Looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.”
Creases formed in her mother’s forehead. “You gave J.T. a present? After how he’s treated me?”
“The way you guys fought? I think you both treated each other pretty poorly. Besides, it was just a tin of candy.” She’d brought some of her homemade fudge for her mother, too.
“Did he have a gift for you?”
Despite everything her mother had to say about J.T., Natasha could tell Anya still cared about him, or she wouldn’t be so acutely interested in him and his sons. Natasha also suspected that Anya didn’t find it entirely unpleasant to run into her ex. Maybe they were even still hooking up now and then. Regardless, they had to see each other quite often, since they traveled in the same circles and had so many mutual friends. “Of course not. But I wasn’t expecting a gift.”
“Since when has he ever had the money to give anything to anyone?” her mother asked bitterly.
Anya had no room to talk. She hadn’t made much of her life, either. But Natasha bit her tongue.
As they stopped to check out some jewelry and Natasha held a pair of silver hoops to her ears to see how they’d look against her brown hair, she hoped Anya would forget about the Amoses. But her mother brought them up again as soon as she put the earrings back and they continued to meander down the row of vendors.
“I bet Mack and his brothers had a gift for you.”
They’d gone in together to buy her a sweater and a new smartphone, since hers was ancient and the screen was shattered. She’d made the switch this morning. But she preferred that her mother not know about the more expensive part of their gift. It would only make Anya jealous. “They got me a sweater,” she volunteered before her mother could ask for details.
“That’s it? From five grown men? Three with wives? That surprises me. They have money. And you’re their baby sister.”
Natasha winced. She hated it when her mother or anyone else referred to her as part of the Amos family, because it meant that Mack would never view her in any other way. “No, I’m not. We didn’t grow up together. And you and J.T. were only married for what...eight years? That hardly makes us related.”
“You can say that after the way they took you in and looked out for you?”
Natasha gaped at her. “They took us both in because we had nowhere else to live. We’d just been kicked out of that crummy apartment in Los Banos when you married J.T. So you contacted Dylan and asked if we could meet him and his brothers at some steak house—that one in Sutter Creek, remember? Then, once we got there and you announced that we were their new family, you asked if we could move in until J.T. got out of prison.”
“That was J.T.’s house,” Anya said.
Natasha hugged the bag of kettle corn to her body so she could use her hands to pull her jacket tighter. “Not really. Not anymore. He would’ve lost it when he went to prison if not for Dylan.” At only eighteen, the oldest Amos son had taken over his father’s auto body shop and finished raising his four younger brothers. He hadn’t done a perfect job as their guardian, but she didn’t know a kid who could’ve done better at that age. He’d loved his brothers fiercely, and he’d worked hard to keep them out of foster care. Natasha had so much respect for Dylan.
“Well, they wouldn’t have had it if J.T. hadn’t bought it in the first place,” Anya said.
“I think he owed them the house, don’t you?” J.T. had gone to prison for knifing a guy in a bar, just for spouting off. Allowing his sons to take over payments on the house where they lived so they’d still have a roof over their heads was the least he could do.
“He wasn’t himself when he did what he did, Natasha. His wife had just overdosed on depression meds.”
Natasha was well aware of that. Mack was the one who’d found her. “I understand. But what about his responsibility to his children? Mack was only six when that happened.”
“Not everyone can live their life as perfectly as you do,” her mother grumbled.
Anya’s defense of J.T. served as further proof that her mother was still in love with him. “I’ve never claimed to be perfect,” Natasha said. “But I’ve never stabbed anyone, either.”
A vendor selling wooden signs with various inscriptions came up. The Tanner Residence; Here Lies the Last Trespasser. May He RIP; No Trespoopers, with a circle and a line through a dog taking a dump. Natasha chuckled at a few as her mother pulled out a cigarette. Anya was about to light up when Natasha nudged her.
“I don�
��t think you can smoke here, Mom.”
“Why not? I’m outside!”
“There’re too many people.”
Muttering a curse for all the “assholes” who tried to tell her what to do with her own body, she said, “Fine!” and put it away.
Setting her jaw so she wouldn’t point out that it wasn’t just her body at risk, Natasha stopped to admire some handmade ornaments.
Anya didn’t pretend to have any interest. She rarely bothered with the holidays, usually didn’t even put up a tree. Folding her arms, she cocked one hip while she waited, as though she was irritated or bored or both. It didn’t take much to make her mother’s mood deteriorate.
“So... How’d they treat you?” she asked once Natasha was ready to move on.
“Who?”
“The Amos brothers.”
“You’re talking about them again? Why?” They’d told Natasha they were planning to be here at the festival. She and her mother could bump into them at any moment, and she didn’t want to be discussing them when it happened.
“Just answer the question. I’m curious. Was Mack excited to see you?”
Mack had been nice. But that was nothing unusual. He’d always taken a special interest in her. When she’d lived with him and Grady and Rod, he’d enrolled her in dance lessons, shown up for any events she was involved in at school, helped her with homework whenever he could, taught her how to play chess and tried to include her in whatever he did—if that was four-wheeling, seeing a movie or target shooting in the mountains—when the catty girls her age shut her out, which happened quite often. She knew he cared about her a lot. But he’d been careful not to let their relationship drift toward anything beyond kindness and support. “No more than Dylan and the others.”
Her mother peered closely at her. “Are you upset about that?”
Shoving another handful of kettle corn in her mouth, Natasha averted her face. “Why would that upset me?”
Anya grabbed her arm. “Oh, come on. Quit pretending. I know how you feel about Mack. We all do. So does he.”
Embarrassed, she looked around but didn’t see anyone she recognized. Was Anya right? Had she been that transparent?
She supposed she had. She’d been so head over heels it’d been difficult to hide her feelings. She was embarrassed about that now, especially when she remembered how she’d behaved the night before she left for college, when she’d slipped into Mack’s room and offered him her virginity. She’d been nineteen at the time, old enough, but after she’d stripped off her clothes, he’d made her put them back on. His rejection had broken her heart, but the way he’d hauled her up against the wall and kissed her before shoving her out of his room suggested she hadn’t been entirely wrong in assuming he’d want what she had to offer.
That certainly hadn’t been a brotherly kiss.
It was, however, all she’d ever gotten.
“I’m over him,” she lied. “I’ve been seeing this other guy named Ace.”
“The bartender you told me about?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a bartender.” That her mother, of all people, could say that in such a derogatory tone shocked Natasha. “Ace loves his job.”
“Who wouldn’t? He hardly has to work.”
He’d mentioned the beneficial hours. Working part-time made it possible for him to surf and do plenty of other things he enjoyed. She suspected his wealthy parents helped him out; he couldn’t go boating and jet skiing and do all the other things he talked about on his income alone. But he’d never specifically mentioned that. And who was she to judge? He seemed to have ambition, talked about owning his own bar someday.
“Do you think it’ll get serious?”
She couldn’t imagine it would. The only man she’d ever wanted was Mack. But she pretended otherwise. “Maybe. We’ve only been dating for a couple of months, so we’re not exclusive, but we... We like each other.”
Her mother eyed her shrewdly. “Mack’s a fool to let anything stand in his way.”
“Can we stop talking about Mack?” she asked in exasperation. “I’m sure he’ll be happy enough without me. After all, he’s never lacked for female attention.” Although he’d rarely had a steady girlfriend, there were plenty of women who’d shown interest. She could vividly remember how heartbroken she’d felt whenever he brought one home.
“But you’re the woman he wants.”
She pictured the tall, muscular, rugged man she loved and remembered how badly she’d hoped he’d come to her room last night. “Even if that’s true, people are complicated. And the way we met, my age at the time, your involvement with his father—I can understand why he’s holding back.”
“That’s all bullshit,” her mother insisted. “You could both be happy if only he’d quit fighting his feelings. I’ve watched him whenever you’ve been around. Last summer, when we went to the lake, you should’ve seen how his eyes followed you in that swimsuit when you weren’t looking. I don’t care what he says. He’s in love with you.”
Natasha wished she could believe that, but he’d never acted on those feelings, not in the way she wanted him to. “I’m fine,” she said. “I still have two years of med school left and then my residency, which will take another three years.”
Anya didn’t respond. She’d recognized a friend and turned to greet her.
Relieved that her mother was currently distracted, and hoping that was all she’d have to hear about Mack or any of the other Amos men, Natasha was waiting for Anya when she heard someone call her name and looked up to see Dylan pointing at her from across the street. His wife, Cheyenne, his son, Kellan, who was seven, Grady and Mack were with him.
She’d known she’d run into one or more of the Amoses eventually and was glad to have found them. Even though it was more and more painful to be around Mack, at least she knew they hadn’t been close enough to overhear anything her mother had said.
They smiled and waved, and she did the same. But the moment her gaze locked with Mack’s, it felt as if they were the only two people on earth.
For her, it’d always been that way.
Then he said something to the others and started across the street toward her.
Two
As soon as Mack joined them, Anya nudged Natasha. “Like a bee to a flower,” she muttered.
Natasha gave her mother a dirty look. Why did Anya have to embarrass her like that?
“What’d she say?” Mack asked.
“Nothing,” Natasha replied. “My mom was just trying to be funny.”
“I said it’s cold tonight.” Anya’s grin made it clear she hadn’t said that at all.
Mack glanced between them, but was wise enough not to press the issue.
“Where’re Dylan and the others going?” Natasha asked, eager to take the conversation in a more stable direction.
“They’re hungry and the Rotary Club’s selling pulled pork sandwiches.”
Anya slipped her arm through his as they joined the flow of people in the street. Sometimes she tried to act like Mack’s stepmother, even though he was an adult when she’d married his father. Other times she tried to act like a sister or cousin or something, since she was actually between Aaron and Rod in age, much younger than J.T. And sometimes, especially if she was drunk or high, she flirted with them shamelessly, making it obvious that she’d be willing to become a lot more, which had to make them uncomfortable. It certainly humiliated Natasha. “You didn’t want one?”
He didn’t pull away from Anya, but Natasha couldn’t help wondering if he wished he could. “I’ve already eaten.”
So was it merely for practical reasons that he’d joined them? Because he didn’t want to wait in a long line?
Natasha could never quite decide if she meant as much to him as it occasionally seemed. That was something she’d struggled with from the beginning.
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Either way, they’d spent so much time together before she left for college that it would’ve been far more unusual if he’d ignored her. She was just glad he was willing to suffer her mother’s company in order to be with her again, especially since she had to go back to LA tomorrow. The hospital where she worked was understaffed, and she lived on a shoestring budget, so she needed to earn as much as she could.
“Want some kettle corn?” She offered him the bag and he took it and scooped out a large handful.
“Have you seen the photo booth?” he asked as he popped a few kernels into his mouth.
“Not yet. Where is it?”
“Down by the Christmas tree in the park. They’re doing those old-time photos again, like the one we took your sophomore year.”
She’d kept that picture on her dresser until she’d moved out. It was still one of her favorites. In it, she was dressed as a barmaid and sat on a barrel, her hair twisted up and decorated with a long feather plume, while Mack stood behind her wearing a sheriff’s star on a leather vest and a fake handlebar mustache that didn’t quite match his dark hair. Grady and Rod had posed on either side of them dressed like regular cowboys drinking a bottle of whiskey. She laughed whenever she looked at the tough expression on Mack’s face in that photograph. She knew there were people who had seen that expression when he wasn’t joking. But he’d always been gentle with her, had gone above and beyond to keep her safe and happy.
He was even the one who’d tried to have “the talk” with her. She’d never forget the night she announced that she’d been invited to homecoming and would likely be out all night. After the others had gone to bed, he’d knocked on her door and hemmed and hawed about school and the auto body shop and anything else he could think of before he managed to work up to the topic he’d come to address.
“I want you to know that...that this boy you’re going out with might try to... Well, boys your age are just beginning to feel...” At that point, he’d shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat before starting over. “What I’m trying to say is that this boy might attempt to do something you may or may not want him to do.”
