A Promise Of Home (A Lake Howling Novel Book 1) (23 page)

Jake watched Branna look around her at Annabelle’s words. It was crowded, but if she really wanted to leave, he’d have her out in seconds.

“Suck it up, Bran, and let’s get it over with, then I’ll buy you a beer.” Annabelle grabbed Branna’s hand.

“I hate beer and I’m not singing,” she gripped Jake’s hand as Annabelle tried to get her moving towards the stage.

“I thought you Irish were meant to be tough,” Jake cupped her cheek, running his thumb over the soft flushed skin. “Where’s that fighting backbone your countrymen are known for?” Jake gave Annabelle a look and she dropped Branna’s hand.

“I can’t do this, Jake.”

He pulled her into his arms, ignoring the people around him, and whispered into her ear. “I heard you sing once and I remember thinking that I’d never heard anyone sound like you before. Every hair on my body stood up and I thought that one day I’d be listening to you on the radio, Rosebud. You have the voice a million musicians would die for. If you don’t want to sing because it scares you, fine, I’ll get you out of here, but if it’s because you don’t believe you can, then I’m here to tell you that’s bull.”

She sighed, her breath brushing his neck, then lifting her head, she gave him a wobbly smile.

“I hate that you always know just the right thing to say all the time. I hated it in school and I have to say it still bugs me.” Her words made him smile.

“What can I say? Life sucks.”

She kissed him, which surprised the hell out of Jake, because she wasn’t one for demonstrative gestures, especially not in front of the entire town of Howling and then let Annabelle lead her through the throng of people towards the stage. He lost sight of her briefly and then she was taking the stairs.

“I’m thinking a mystery muffin might have to be made in her honor for this. I’ve never seen a woman turn white that fast,” Buster said, as he and Jake watched the girls walk up the steps.

“You know how anything that crawls turns you into a weeping, sniveling infant? Well, this kind of thing does that to her…without the weeping and sniveling.”

Buster whistled, not at all put out by Jake’s explanation.

“She’s scared to death then.”

“And then some,” Jake added, watching Branna say something to Mr. Hope that made him laugh. She talked to the other guitarist, drummer, and Annabelle, and after a discussion they all took a few seconds doing things with their instruments, and then Branna stepped up to the microphone and Jake held his breath.

Come on, baby, you can do this.

“I’ll be expecting you all to dance, seeing as you dragged us up here.” Nerves made her accent thicker. A ripple of laughter swept through the crowd after she spoke.

“There will be two songs, as Mr. Hope won’t let up after just one, so if you don’t like what you hear, stick your fingers in your ears.”

Beside him, Buster snorted, and Jake felt a smile on his lips. She looked so sexy standing up there and she was his.

Her voice was still amazing, that deep husky purr that ran up and down his spine and accompanied by Annabelle’s backup vocals and nimble fingers on the keyboard, they sounded as if they’d been playing together for years. They played two well-known rock ballads that had everyone dancing, like Branna had asked them to. She’d gone up there terrified and delivered an amazing performance; he was so proud of her his chest hurt.

“She’s good.”

Jake didn’t answer Buster; his eyes never moved from Branna.

He thought about what she’d endured and overcome to be the smart, funny, sexy woman he knew today. She’d fought her battles alone, as far as he could see, but she’d come out the other side. Jake knew she had baggage, most people had some, but she’d gone on living her life, being who she wanted to be.

“So, you know how I said I’d stand aside and give you a clear run with her, McBride?”

“She’s mine, Tex, go find your own woman,” Jake said, as Ethan moved to his other side.

“The little lady can sing, McBride; can’t believe she doesn’t do it for a living.”

“I thought you liked her books?”

“I do, they’re awesome, but hell, this is talent.”

“It is at that,” Jake agreed.

“Annabelle’s got some talent going on there too, shame she’s such a she-devil.”

Buster joined in the conversation by saying. “You’re just pissed she turned you down when you asked her on a date.”

“Shut up, bakery boy, when I want your opinion I’ll ask for it,” Ethan said.

“Make me that appointment when you fly home tomorrow, Ethan.”

Ethan looked surprised at Jake’s words, because he’d been after him for months to go see the shrink he knew.

“I’ll do that, McBride, and come pick you up when it’s time.”

“Appreciate it.”

Jake was grateful Ethan didn’t ask why now, he just picked up where he started with Buster and they continued abusing each other, while Jake watched his girl.

She was his now, and she deserved him to be whole. Deserved that he at least try to make sense of the nightmare that was inside his head. He might or might not be a doctor again, but he needed to at least try, and he needed to do it for both of them.

Her voice was a thing of beauty and one song turned into three and he never moved, just drank in the sight of her body swaying to the music. By the time she sang the last note, she had the entire crowd in the palm of her hand, sitting right alongside where he’d been since she’d arrived in Howling.

“Good night, everyone, and don’t expect a repeat performance next year.”

Everyone applauded as Branna spoke, and then kept clapping until they’d left the stage. People touched her shoulder as she walked, and she smiled and spoke a few words and then she was there in front of him.

“Hey, you.” He was so full of pride he could hardly get the words out.

“Hey, you.” Her smile was real, but some of it was relief, Jake was pretty sure.

“You were amazing.” Wrapping a hand around her neck, he pulled her into him briefly. Inhaling her, he kissed her cheek, then let her go.

“I hate to admit it, Bran, but that was fun. Maybe we could just do a bit of jamming when we get time?”

Branna literally glowed as she turned to Annabelle. “I guess we could use the shed now that Geraldine’s at Jake’s.”

“Will you guys play at a party I’m organizing?”

“I suppose you think that’s funny, rich boy?” Annabelle rounded on Ethan as he spoke.

“What?” He looked confused. “I was serious.”

Jake looked over the heads of the people milling, as Branna and Annabelle talked to Ethan…correction…they talked at Ethan…loudly. He saw the tall dark-haired man walking towards them. People seemed to naturally move to one side as he wove his way through them, and there was something familiar about that face. Dressed in a blue shirt and jeans, he should have fit right in here, but didn’t; he stood out. Even his walk was different; he seemed to glide, long legs moving with ease as he covered the distance, and then it clicked into place. He knew another person who walked like that.

“Branna.”

She turned as he spoke, hearing the urgency in his voice.

“There’s—”

“Hello, Branna.”

He was too late; D.J. O’Donnell had arrived in Howling.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The smile fell from Branna’s face as she looked at her father. Her fingers clenched around Jake’s before she released his hand and took a step backward.

“What are you doing here?” Her words were hoarse.

“I came to see my daughter. I heard you sing. You were amazing.”

He spoke with the same soft burr that she did, and those eyes were Branna’s too. The deep green pools that had sucked Jake in from the first glance he’d taken of her.

“Why would you want to be my father now?”

“Branna, love, let me—”

“You’ll leave here now; I have no need for you.”

“Branna—” Jake tried to stop her from walking away, but it was too late. She was running through the crowds, and was soon swallowed up.

“We’ll go after her, you take him,” Buster said, preparing to follow with Annabelle and Ethan.

Jake was torn. He wanted to comfort Branna, because she was his first concern, but he didn’t want Declan O’Donnell to leave until he’d spoken to him about a few things, which was what he appeared to be doing. His tall figure was making its way back through the crowds, back the way he had come.

“Stay with her till I get there.” Jake ran after O’Donnell, finding him with one hand braced on the wall of The Hoot. His head was lowered, and his breath was rushing in and out of his body.

“Did you expect that to go any differently?” Jake said, coming to a halt behind him. “It was never in the cards that she’d fall into your arms crying, ‘Daddy, I’ve missed you.’”

The man straightened to his full height and tried to glare at Jake, which was ruined by the devastation on his face.

“Who the hell are you and why were you holding my daughter’s hand?”

“I’m the man who she told that her father never forgave her for killing the only woman he’d ever loved. The man who held her when she said she was responsible for the death of her mother.”

If he’d hit Declan O’Donnell, the pain would have hurt him less. His shoulders slumped, and even in the growing dark, Jake could see the pallor of his cheeks.

“Someone broke into her house a few nights ago, while she was sleeping, but she woke and ran to me, and do you know what she said to herself while she ran frightened and alone?” Jake continued talking at the man, needing him to know what he’d done to his only child. His anger was simmering, but he had it under control.

“Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear—not absence of fear.”

“The very words, Mr. O’Donnell, and do you know what has become of your daughter because you turned your back on her?”

“No,” he was broken, a defeated man as Jake struck yet another blow. “I didn’t turn my back on her.”

“She’s locked herself away,” Jake said, ignoring his words. “Away from any emotional entanglements, and I would lay most of the blame for that at your feet.”

This man had failed in his duty as a parent. Failed to provide love when his daughter wanted it most, and because in his own life he’d had that in abundance, Jake could only imagine what it was like to have none.
“Jake?”

His father and mother appeared at his side.

“You remember Declan O’Donnell?” He nodded to the man before him. Manners having been drummed into him from birth, he then made the introductions. “Mr. O’Donnell, these are my parents, Patrick and Nancy McBride.” Jake watched his father shake the man’s hand.

“I remember you both from my time here,” Declan O’Donnell said in a tired voice.

“Are you staying in Howling for a while, Mr. O’Donnell?”

“I had hoped to, but am uncertain at this stage.”

“You can stay with us.”

Both Jake and his father looked at Nancy McBride with raised eyebrows.

“We have that spare room downstairs with a bathroom attached; he can settle in there.”

“Mom, I don’t think—”

“Jake, I don’t know what has happened between Branna and her father, but to my mind, they need some time to fix it.”

“I’m not sure it’s fixable, Mom.”

“Shouldn’t we help them at least try?”

“I’m sure he can stay in town at the Howler,” Jake added.

“It’s booked fully at this time, especially with the carnival on tonight,” Nancy McBride added.

She was right, Jake knew that; he just didn’t know how Branna would feel about her father staying with his parents.

“Do you have a car, Mr. O’Donnell?”

“I do, but I can just as easily find a place out of Howling to stay, Mr. McBride.”

“Howling counts your daughter as one of theirs and as you’re famous, we’ve claimed you too, so if word gets out you’re staying in another town, it won’t be pretty. My advice is to just follow along with my wife’s wishes, Mr. O’Donnell.”

“Very well.”

Before Jake could protest, his parents had gathered up the man and his father was driving his car back to their house. Jake said he’d follow soon, but first he needed to check on Branna.

Fifteen minutes later, after a text from Buster, he walked into his friend’s house. It had been his parents’ first, until they’d decided to retire and travel around the world. Beige weatherboard with a stone front, it had a tidy front lawn with a large green leafy tree and a nice little fence that said it should be a family home, which was exactly what it had been for years. Now it was the home of single man who was a slob.

“Annabelle, I’m not baking her a mystery muffin now just because she’s upset.”

Jake heard Buster’s frustration as he walked in through the front door. Vaulted ceilings and plank floors led him towards the voices. Stepping over shoes, books, boxes, and baking stuff, he found Buster, Tex, and Annabelle in the only immaculate room in the entire house, the kitchen; of Branna, there was no sign.

“Where is she?”

“In the bathroom,” Ethan said. “And she hasn’t spoken a word, or cried a tear. Just sat in the car, still as a bloody statue, staring out the windshield. I tell you, Jake, it was sadder than seeing her break down. We tried to talk to her, Annabelle, Buster and I, and she responded, but only one-syllable answers. She didn’t resist or protest, just let us bring her here, walked inside and straight into the bathroom, after asking Buster politely where it was.”

He saw the worry in their faces. They cared for Branna now, she was one of theirs and it hurt that she was in pain and they couldn’t help her.

“This business with her dad is pretty messy.” Jake ran a hand through his hair. “Mom and Dad have taken him to their house.”

Tex whistled and Annabelle swore loudly.

“Yeah, not ideal and I’m not sure how she’ll cope with that news.”