by Gun Brooke
Tierney began walking next to Mike, glad she could combine work with some extra fun. “Actually, we made some headway today. It’s quite the miracle, since we were driving all night.”
Mike stopped so fast, Perry and Mason nearly made her topple over. “You were driving in the night with Giselle?” She gaped. “What the…I mean, why?”
Tierney saw no point in keeping Stephanie’s presence a secret, since Vivian and Mike would meet her the next time they visited Giselle. Keeping most of the detail out of her recounting of last night’s ordeal, she told Mike the gist of it all.
Mike began walking again but kept her eyes on Tierney. “Am I right to understand that you not only persuaded Giselle to keep you around, but you also talked her into making room for a kid in need of shelter—under her own roof?”
“That’s about it, I suppose. You do make me out to be rather manipulative, you know.” Only half joking, Tierney nudged Mike’s arm with her shoulder.
“No, no. Not at all. In fact, I think it’s great. If you only knew how many times Vivian and I, and the others in Chicory Ariose, have despaired at Giselle’s solitude. Sometimes I’ve dreaded going to her house, as it pained me so bad that we had to leave her there alone when we went home to our respective happy relationships. She would stand in the window, holding Charley back so she wouldn’t run out, jump the fence, and chase our cars. Don’t get me wrong. Giselle is a formidable woman in her own right, but that doesn’t make her less lonely. Your presence, and this kid, Stephanie, is just what she needs.”
“From your mouth to…” She shrugged, afraid she might have let too much of her newfound, hopeless attraction—and affection—when it came to Giselle show. “It’s temporary. All of it.” Tierney’s voice wobbled, and she coughed, embarrassed.
“Do you wish it would be more, well, permanent?” Mike asked gently.
“That’d be presumptuous, wouldn’t it?” Tierney turned her head and focused on Timo, who was now busy digging a hole in the sand. One of the Great Danes looked longingly at him and then decided to stealthily assist Timo with one gentle paw.
“No. I don’t think so. We feel what we feel. To hell with conventional ways to handle ourselves. I can tell you care for Giselle. At what level, and in what capacity, that’s your business, and I won’t pry.”
It was as refreshing as it was intimidating to be with someone as straightforward as Mike. With her black hair and dark-blue eyes, she was such a stunning woman. She and Vivian had initially appeared mismatched, but one only had to be in their presence for ten minutes to feel the love between them. And if Tierney could sense that about them—after all, they were virtual strangers—perhaps it wasn’t as unlikely that Mike could do the same when it came to Tierney’s feelings for Giselle.
“Stephanie sounds like a terrific kid,” Mike said, changing the subject. “I know quite a bit about growing up that way. I lived on the street for a while, before the Belmont Foundation gave me the chance of a lifetime. That’s how I saw it. Thanks to them, I could buy the café, which was in poor condition, renovate it, and watch it grow into what it is today. That in turn sent Vivian my way, which later brought Manon and Erin. So, and I’m not trying to be a know-it-all here, please don’t think that. Who knows what the future will bring for you, and for Stephanie?”
Tierney wanted to put on her usual armor and claim that no orphan, or kid in the system, would ever presume to dream that big—not if they knew what was good for them. Such high-flying dreams led to heartache and devastation. But this was Mike, someone with a similar background to her own, and that made it impossible to dismiss what she was saying.
Not wanting to comment on Mike’s words, Tierney checked her phone. “Hey. It was nice to see you again, Mike. I better get Timo home. His owner is a bit…particular.” She smiled, her less-than-authentic one that felt more like a grimace. “And I heard you,” Tierney added, not wanting Mike to think otherwise. “Thanks.”
Mike placed a hand on Tierney’s shoulder. “Giselle has my number if you ever need to, you know, chat. About anything. And just so you know, I never gossip. Not even to the love of my life.”
Thinking about the amazing, beautiful Vivian, who had captured the heart of the entire music world, Tierney could relax into a genuine smile. “Anything I share with you about myself, you can tell Vivian. She’s cool.”
Mike chuckled. “I’ll tell her you said so. That’ll make her day.”
They parted after having to pull Timo away from his gigantic friends. As Tierney walked back toward his home, she pondered what Mike had said. She thought Tierney was good for Giselle. And coming from Mike, it hadn’t sounded like she meant in more a professional capacity—more like personal. But how personal and in what way, exactly?
No matter what way, Tierney had risked her heart, whether Giselle was into women or not.
The walk back took only ten minutes, and Tierney found Leanne waiting for her on the sidewalk. She was frowning, and Tierney’s heart sank. Now what?
“You’re twelve minutes late. I was worried.” Leanne bent and patted Timo. Being very excited to see her, he placed his paws on her thighs. “Timo! Where have you been? You’re dirty!” Leanne didn’t just frown anymore. She scowled at Tierney. “Where have you been walking him?”
“Among the dunes. And I know I said an hour, but he had so much fun with a couple of dogs we met and—”
“Dogs? You let him play with some strange dogs? Are you insane? They could have parasites, heartworm, or any other communicable disease. What were you thinking?”
Trembling now, from anger and from being upset, Tierney replied, “I never put him in danger. Mike said Timo knows Perry and Mason, and all they did was dig in the sand. See? It’s falling right off when it dries.” Tierney motioned toward Leanne’s trousers.
Yanking the leash out of Tierney’s hand, Leanne brushed her knees with her free hand. Then she stopped in mid-motion, her face mellowing. “Mike? As in Michaela Stone?”
“Yes.”
“And you suddenly know her?” Leanne tapped her chin. “Ah, of course. She’s been to Ms. Bonnaire’s house. I’ve heard they sometimes collaborate. Well, then. That’s all right then. Still, I loathe tardiness. Next time—”
“Excuse me.” Furious still at the way Leanne had talked to her, Tierney held up a hand, palm forward. “I’m not so sure there’ll be a next time. Timo is a great dog, and he listens very well once he understands that’s what the person walking him wants. That said, I’m not going to subject myself to verbal abuse like this. You don’t pay me well enough for that.”
Leanne gaped. “Wait a minute. Who do you think you are? From where I’m standing, you’re a stranger to our town, arriving here and looking for odd jobs. You claim you’re touring colleges, but how do I know that’s true. Maybe it’s a good thing my husband insisted on running a nationwide search on you to make sure you wouldn’t run off with Timo. He’s our baby.”
So cold now, Tierney pulled her hands into her sleeves. “Go right ahead. Do your searches. That won’t change the fact that I did an excellent job walking your dog. Some sand between the toes never hurt anyone. Neither has going on an impromptu play date with a four-legged buddy. Just give me what we agreed on for today, and you won’t have to deal with this insane, inept, and tardy person again.”
“Hmm. I really should deduct for the time you made me wait, but nobody will ever say I’m not a woman of my word. Here.” Holding out the money for Tierney, Leanne raised her chin in a clear challenge. “Don’t get too comfortable at Ms. Bonnaire’s. I’m sure she’ll find it interesting to learn that you planned to trick your way into her house.”
“I’m sure she will—oh, right—she already knows. I told her on the first day about the two helpful acquaintances of hers that I met in town, and how they encouraged me in a very special way to apply for the job as her assistant.”
It would have been entertaining, if it hadn’t been so appalling, to study Leanne’s expression. She went fro
m smirking superiority to furious apprehension in seconds.
After grabbing the bike she’d leaned against the fence, Tierney unlocked it and mounted it in one fluid movement. She didn’t say good-bye—that would have been hypocritical—but she sped down the road where one posh, mansion-looking house after another seemed to lean toward her. She couldn’t wait to get back to Giselle and Stephanie. Tierney groaned. Now she had a whole other problem to consider. Should she wait and see if Leanne’s cop husband would find she had a sealed juvenile record or tell Giselle beforehand?
Turning the corner, Tierney was relieved that the return trip was downhill. She’d spent a lot of energy going off on the horrible dog-owner, and now she could just let the bicycle roll down the hill. The wind caressed her face, whipped her hair around her neck, and whistled where it found the maples and shrubbery.
As she reached the intersection at the bottom of the hill, she shifted her grip to squeeze the brakes on the handlebar. Nothing happened. Her heart thundering, Tierney tried again. And again. And again. Watching the traffic go by in the intersection, she put her feet down, trying to press her soles to the asphalt. She barely reached it with the tip of her toes. The cars and trucks seemed to approach sideways as they zoomed across the road she approached from.
“Ahh!” Judging that she had only one option to save herself from certain death, Tierney turned the handlebars a sharp right. The next thing she knew, everything blurred, a lot hurt, and then the blur turned black.
Chapter Twenty
Giselle emerged from the music room, still humming the new bridge of the song she’d worked on with Tierney. Tierney was such a natural when it came to creating her lyrics, and she evoked a flood of emotions when she sang. Feeling excited, thrilled, and eager to hear more, Giselle smiled to herself as she walked toward the kitchen.
She saw no sign of Stephanie, but she could hear murmuring voices from the TV room. Walking over to it, Giselle peered around the doorframe. On the couch, with towels as protection, Charley and Mister flanked Stephanie, who was engrossed in something unfamiliar to Giselle. Perhaps a soap. She rarely watched TV, unless it was in the middle of the night and she couldn’t sleep. Then, she would turn on the TV in her bedroom and indulge in popular science channels until fatigue claimed her. She rarely chose anything to do with music, as that was what her brain needed to rest from if she would have any chance of recharging her inner batteries.
“What are you watching?” Giselle asked and stepped into the room.
Stephanie flinched but then smiled shyly. “Just a rerun of a rerun, I think. I mean, I do love some of the soaps, but this, I think I’ve seen it more than four times. Wish they’d show something newer sometimes.”
“I have tons of DVDs. You’re welcome to pick out anything you want if nothing good’s on.” Feeling ridiculous as she tried to communicate with Stephanie, Giselle crossed the room and sat down in one of the massive armchairs.
“Oh, can I?” Bouncing up, Stephanie surprised Charley, who raised her left eyebrow. Mister stretched and moved to curl up on the backrest of the couch.
“Sure. They’re in that cabinet over there. Double rows, so you’ll have to rummage around. And like the CDs and vinyls, they’re categorized and alphabetized.”
“Makes it easier to find what you’re looking for.” Stephanie nodded approvingly. “I like when it’s tidy. If you only knew how the Brodys lived. So much stuff everywhere. It was my job, and the younger kids’, to clean up the mess, but it was hard. Every time we had it looking decent, Dylan, in particular, would throw things everywhere. Dirty clothes on the floor, pizza cartons everywhere, and tons of beer cans.” Stephanie blinked. “Oh, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shovel all that on you.” She had been squatting on all fours by the film cabinet but now sat back on her heels, her shoulders slumping.
Giselle didn’t want to see this defeated look in Stephanie’s eyes. “Hey. I’m always interested in hearing what you’ve been through. Tierney told me a little bit—and she hasn’t broken any confidences, just so you know—and I really want to know more if you feel like sharing.” How odd that listening to Stephanie not only made her feel less selfish but also infinitely better. Her own demons pulled back some, like they weren’t important when Stephanie described the conditions at the Brodys’. The thought that Tierney had gone through similar things while in the so-called care of those people pierced her heart.
“Thanks.” Stephanie looked more at ease. “I’m relieved. I don’t mean to generalize about foster homes. Thank God, I know a lot of kids from the Facebook group that lucked out and got to live with great people. Some were even adopted. That’s the majority. Then there are those who’ve had it way worse than I did. Their stories are so heartbreaking, I can barely think about them without crying.”
Giselle could understand that. She moved to the leather bench by the window, close to Stephanie. “I’m sure they’re grateful for the group, for being able to share. What do the moderators do if they hear about unlawful treatment of these young people?”
“When I signed up for this group, one of the rules, stated very clearly, was that the moderators—Tierney is one, by the way—wouldn’t hesitate to report such treatment to the authorities. I kind of hoped Tierney would do that for me. I never could, as I’ve learned the hard way that the social workers and cops don’t always take what a kid says at face value. If the foster parents are good at expressing themselves, they outmaneuver the kid and have the upper hand. They’re all adults discussing things between themselves. It’s hard to make yourself heard, and believed.”
“Tierney was adamant to get to you. I—um—well, I have some phobias that I struggle with, but still I couldn’t let Tierney drive alone in the middle of the night. I mean, I had no way of knowing where she’d end up and if she would have backup. I have some pull, in a way, in this state, as I’m pretty well connected. I hoped I wouldn’t make things worse for her—or you—by having a panic attack. Luckily, I didn’t.” Giselle smiled gently.
“That has got to suck,” Stephanie said and shifted to sit with her legs crossed. “I’ve never had a panic attack, but I’ve been panicky, which I assume is pretty close to it.”
“I think so too.” Folding her hands, Giselle wished she had the courage to hug Stephanie to show she cared. Still, this was a big step, moving within someone’s personal space when she hardly knew them.
Her cellphone rang, making her jump. Fumbling, she dug it out of her cardigan pocket and checked the display. An unknown number. Most likely, it was someone trying to sell her something or ask her to donate money, but she still pressed the green receiver symbol on the screen. “Hello?”
“Is this Giselle?” an unknown woman asked. She didn’t sound young.
“Yes. Who am I talking to?”
“Oh, dear. My name is Beatrice Nielsen. I’m afraid your friend, young Tierney here, has had a bit of an accident with her bicycle.”
“What?” Giselle stood so fast, the room began to spin. “What happened? How is she?”
“She came down the hill like a bat out of you-know-where and slammed right into the side of our car. She flew across the hood. Fortunately, Mauritz, my husband, managed to slam on the brakes before he ran her over. She’s sitting here on the curb now and looks a bit groggy. She refuses to let me call 911, though, but asked me to contact you.”
“And why couldn’t she phone me herself?” Giselle asked as her heart plummeted.
“She’s got a cut right at her hairline, and some of the blood has gotten into her eyes. I still think she needs a doctor.” Beatrice made a disapproving tsking sound with her tongue.
“Put her on, please, ma’am?” Gripping the cellphone harder, Giselle felt Stephanie at her side. Stephanie placed an arm around Giselle’s waist while Giselle engaged the loudspeaker on the phone.
“Giselle?” It was Tierney, sounding pained but not slurred, thank God. “I’m a first-class idiot. I forgot the fucking helmet. The brakes failed somehow, and I
hit a car. It wasn’t their fault at all.”
“Nor was it yours, dear,” Beatrice said in the background. “It was an accident.”
“You have to let them call 911, Tierney. Please.” Giselle put her hand on Stephanie’s where it rested at the side of her waist.
“Nah. I just need to go home and clean up. No hospital.” Tierney spoke in a slow yet clipped way.
“But you may need an X-ray, and maybe stitches.” Giselle was getting upset.
“No. No hospital.” Tierney must’ve held the phone closer. “That’s final.”
Stephanie tugged at Giselle. “She can’t afford it,” she mouthed.
Annoyed at herself for not realizing such a basic fact, Giselle sighed. Of course. It was totally like her to not consider other people’s economic situations. Another symptom of living a solitary life. “Tierney, listen to me. Stephanie and I will come and get you, and we’ll drive down to the urgent-care clinic. If they say you can get away with stitches, we’ll go home right away. And before you object again, this is on me. I’m your employer. What I say goes, right?” She waited until she heard Tierney draw a deep breath and most likely prepare to refuse again. Giselle drove her point home. “Tell me, Tierney, if I was sitting on a curb, wounded, bleeding, wouldn’t you help me?”
A long silence made Giselle check her phone to make sure they were still connected.
“Yes,” Tierney whispered. “I’d move heaven and earth.”
Giselle nearly whimpered at the tenderness and something resembling awe in Tierney’s voice. “Well then,” she murmured after clearing her throat. “We’re on our way. Give the phone back to Beatrice so she can let me know exactly where you are.”
“Okay.” A short scraping sound came over the loudspeaker and then Beatrice’s throaty voice again. She gave them directions, and Stephanie impressed Giselle by taking notes and entering them into her own cellphone.
