Part 17 (2/2)
”No one ever saw that dog pack,” Brenna said. ”A lot of people a.s.sumed it. Could have been a particularly bad-acting coyote. You know they're in this area now.” Words for Russell. She knew better than to believe either explanation.
”A coyote? Kill a dog the size of that red hound you had?” Russell gave her an annoyed big-brother look. ”I haven't been living in town long enough for you to pull that one on me, Brenna.”
She shrugged, rubbing her hands up and down her goose-b.u.mping arms. Working, she'd been warm enough. Standing in the shadow of the barn, she wasn't.
”The point is, she's beginning to wonder if it was a mistake to let you have this place.”
A p.r.i.c.kle of alarm made the goose b.u.mps bigger. ”I've kept it up just fine. It's what I was doing when you got here, in case you didn't notice.”
”That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about you out here alone all the time.”
”I was alone when we decided I'd stay in the house,” Brenna said, keeping her tone even only with the greatest of determination. I don't need this. I don't need this now. Sensitive brother Russell, coming to stomp all over her when she just needed someone to accept her and feel with her. Masera wouldn't stand for this s.h.i.+t.
That last thought startled her enough that she almost didn't hear Russell say, ”We didn't think you'd stay alone.” But nothing could have blocked out the implications of that one, as belatedly as they came to her.
”What? You thought I'd find myself a man? Settle down like you did and start a family? Give up work and stay at home to raise kids? That's bulls.h.i.+t, Russell.”
”Shhh,” he said, giving the boys a hasty look and evidently deciding they were out of earshot. Still, he kept his voice lowered. ”It's not bulls.h.i.+t, Brenna. It's my life. It's a good life.”
”That's not your life, it's Marie's life. And you don't know anything about it!”
The boys stopped running at that, looked back at them with questioning faces. Redheads, both of them, with profuse freckles and Marie's fair skin, and no more understanding of their Aunt Brenna than their father had. Russell gestured them out and they ran to the hand pump by the water trough, where they discovered the well in perfect working order. Brenna doubted that Marie would share their delight when they slopped into the house.
Then again, she'd resigned herself to kids will be kids long ago and truly seemed happy with it. Brenna could understand that, even envy it a little. She only wished Marie and Russell were capable of doing the same for her. ”Listen, Russell,” she said. ”I don't live my life to suit you. I don't even live it to suit Mom. I'm sorry if that's some big disappointment to you both, but you might try being glad that there's someone who is willing to live here and keep the place upa”keep it in the family.”
”Quit thinking only of yourself,” Russell said, once again managing to startle her. ”It's Mom who has to worry about you. And me.”
”But I'm finea””
”And I'm telling you, we've been talking. The deed was never transferred to your name, you know. Mom might decide to sell the place.”
Fury booted aside any common sense she might have had. ”And whose idea was this, Russell? Hers, or yours? Has someone made you an offer on this place, is that it?”
Parker, ohmyG.o.d, Rob Parker.
He'd said he had ways. He'd apparently meant it. She knew her brother too well to think this was coming from nowhere, or from any sudden concern about her life. And at that she did lower her voice, though she couldn't stop it from shaking, and she couldn't keep from closing on him, forcing him to back up as she pointed him through the run-in opening. ”Get out, Russell. Get out now. No one's selling anything, you can count on that. This is my home.”
He looked like he wanted to protest, his mouth open, his head primed to shake at her.
He didn't. He called the boys, and though they gave her innocent and heartbreakingly cheerful farewells, she could only bring herself to return a brief wave. Druid stood by her side, his happy tail slowly lowering as he looked up at her and divined her mood.
”Hwoo?” he said, in one of his weird little whining questions. Brenna knelt to rub his ears and kiss the neat white forehead splot that ended his broad blaze.
”I wish you really could understand,” she said. ”You'd probably have the answers.”
She'd call her mother. Russell was slick, was the consummate salesman with years of experience in deals and dealing, but he probably hadn't told Rhona about the buyer. Probably didn't know it was the same person who'd trashed the land while Brenna's father lay dying, probably hadn't bothered to find out that Parker, behind his good old farmboy talk and his charming smile and his disarming conservative-looking mustache, was police-blotter material.
Beyond police-blotter material.
Her mother would listen to that, would hear it over Russell's talk of money and his patronizing for Brenna's own good words.
She had to.
Druid sighed, a mighty sigh of the sort that only a world-weary dog can make, and Brenna kissed his head again, a loud exaggerated smack of a kiss. ”There,” she said. ”All better.”
As if.
”Brenna?”
Emily? Inside the barn? Brenna called back to her and jogged inside, finding herself surprised and thrown off guard once more. As much as Brenna tromped a path through the modest fallow field and the small stand of trees between her place and the upscale housing development that held Emily's home, Emily never came the opposite way. Sometimes she showed up in the family van, the girls in tow and begging to explore Brenna's crammed attic while Emily and Brenna shared a soda and news, but never on foot. Rarely alone.
”Everything all right?” Brenna asked, her eyes adjusting to the dim interior and not able to see much besides the blob of Emily and the particularly pink appliqued vest she wore. Brenna suspected Emily would consider herself undressed if she left the house without at least one homemade item of apparel on her body.
”I should be asking you,” Emily said. ”I saw Russell leaving. As if you needed him on top of what's happened to Elizabeth.”
”Yes,” Brenna said, leaning on the repaired gate. ”He was a treasure, as usual.”
Emily looked away; Brenna could see her well enough, now, to note the strained look around her eyes, the tension at the corners of her mouth. She said, ”What?”
”What do you mean, what?”
”Oh, don't even try. Here you are in the middle of my barn, come over on foot without the girls. And with that look on your face. As if you could hide that look from me.”
Emily gave her a small smile. A very small smile. She offered a sheaf of rolled-up papers she'd been holding quietly at her side. ”I brought these,” she said. ”More information on rabies, for one. Thought you might like to have it, though from what I hear . . . I'm not sure it'll apply to what's going on now. And there's some stuff on Mars Nodens. I didn't look at it; I'm not sure how carefully the girls screened it, to tell you the truth.”
”It's probably not quite in their interest range,” Brenna said, blowing her bangs out of her eyes and reaching for the roll of paper, squas.h.i.+ng it flat and stuffing it in her back pocket beside her braid. ”I'm not sure it'll be in my interest range.”
”They did ask why you wanted it,” Emily admitted. ”I told them you were a unique and strange individual, and we should treasure you as such.”
Brenna laughed out loud. ”Thank you so much.” She dropped one hand to the latch, clicking it open, easing the gate back, and snicking it closed again, waiting for what Emily really had to say.
”There,” Emily added, looking meaningfully at the gate. ”You prove my point entirely.”
”I heed my inner child,” Brenna said with a theatrical haughtiness. ”And you still haven't answered my question.”
Emily sighed. Now they'd get to it, Brenna knew, and she was right. ”Well, three things,” Emily said. ”One is, can you come over for a cookout this weekend, and two is . . . we'd rather you didn't bring Druid around just now.” She smiled apologetically, but it looked a little sad, as if the request were really an odd, sad focal point to everything that had happened in Brenna's life . . . and that now seemed to be spreading to encompa.s.s the rest of the community.
”That's what you're worried about?” Brenna said, shocked; inside she felt it, a rejection that didn't make a whit of practical sense but existed all the same. ”I suppose I can't blame you for that. I hope you've told them” a”for they both knew this was for the girlsa” ”to keep their hands off stray dogs, too.”
Emily scoffed affectionately. ”You're a fine one to be saying that, Brenna Lynn Fallon.” And Druid whined, as if he agreed, and they both laughed, though Emily's was strained.
”Don't worry about it,” Brenna said. ”I'll crate him up. I won't be able to stay as long, but you can bet I'll stay long enough to eat plenty of your food.”
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