A Promise Of Home (A Lake Howling Novel Book 1) (4 page)

“Doctor McBride is the best, Branna. How about you come sit in the chair and let her take a quick look at you? Then she'll give you something for your sore head.”

“I-I don’t th-think I can, Annabelle.”

“Sure you can, and while I'm still pissed with you for leaving me without a word, after ten years I've just about forgiven you, so why don't you let me, Jake, and Doctor McBride here help you.”

The side of Jake’s shirt stayed clutched in Branna’s hand, the other Annabelle held, and they all made their way across to the chair, while Doctor McBride chatted to her son about his favorite meatballs that she was making him for dinner that night. Branna latched onto the silly conversation like a lifeline, focusing on each word to distract herself from what was to come.

“Finish it with a brownie and chocolate sauce, and I’ll be persuaded to look at Dad’s Bronco before I leave.”

“Deal.”

Branna sat with Annabelle on one side holding her hand and Jake on the other.

“I’m just going to have a look at you now, Branna. If at any time you want me to stop, you just say. If something hurts, you just let me know, and if you feel sick, then you just turn to your right and throw up on Jake’s shoes,” Doctor McBride said.

“My mother, the caring face of Howling. If only your patients really knew you like I do.”

Branna had a brief vision of her mother and quickly pushed it aside.

Doctor McBride talked as she checked Branna over, her words directed to either Belle or her son, and Branna sat tense and silent while she did so. When she touched her head, Branna bit her lip.

“We need to give that a cleanup, Annabelle, and maybe a stitch or two?”

“No needles…please,” Branna heard the plea in her words. She was pathetic. How could a person of twenty-eight still be traumatized by events that happened fifteen years ago? She hated herself for the weakness that still plagued her.

“It’s all right, Branna, I’m not going to hurt you,” Doctor McBride said gently.

“You sure are a scaredy cat, Branna O’Donnell. If I’d known in school you were this easy to crack, I would have tried harder.”

“I’m not a scaredy-cat, Jake McBride,” Branna said through gritted teeth. “And grown men don’t speak like that, you wimp.”

He continued to poke at her with verbal jabs, which she tried to field, as his mother worked on her head. It helped.

“Don’t you remember, Annabelle? Rosebud here had that thing for Nick Fletcher. She kept looking at him all gooey eyed until he asked to change classes just to get away from her.”

“I did not,” Branna gritted out. “That was the other girl with the really big…ah—”

“Yes, they were certainly a fine pair,” Jake sighed. “Kaylee Summers, we were all in love with her, except Nick, who, as it turned out, was in love with Mandy Griffin.”

“D-didn’t she h-have a funny thing going on with her eyes?” Branna swallowed, as she felt something dig into her head. It didn’t hurt, but still, just the thought of a needle anywhere near her was terrifying.

“You take a nice deep breath now, Rosebud. That’s it, now another,” Jake said, pulling his shirt free of her grip and then clasping her hand, her fingers sliding between his.

“Kaylee had a ton of vision therapy, which corrected it and she’s grown up and out some since then. Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher now run the art gallery here in town. He’s lost his hair and puffed out a bit himself.”

Surprised by Annabelle’s words, Branna momentarily forgot her pain. “You’re not serious? Nick, the hottest thing in pants, Fletcher?”

“The very same,” Belle said.

“I thought I was the hottest thing in pants back then.”

“No,” Branna said, shooting Jake a quick look. “You only thought you were; he actually was.”

Belle whooped with laughter and Doctor McBride chuckled.

“All done with your head, Branna. Annabelle will take you to get an X-ray on that arm now, to check it doesn’t have more damage than we can see.”

“Jake didn’t think it was broken, Doctor McBride,” she felt compelled to say, in case it persuaded the doctor to change her mind about the X-ray.

“He’s probably right, but as I’m still the doctor around here and he insists on wasting his talents by putting those skillful hands of his into a gallon of motor oil each day, then we go with my instructions.”

Branna’s head hurt too much to wade through the tension behind Doctor McBride’s words, especially as the fingers holding hers tensed briefly before relaxing again. Looking up, she saw that Jake was looking at his mother, his black eyes steady and unreadable.

“Once she’s done there, Annabelle, get her settled in a bed.”

“Bed? Why do I need a bed? Do you even have beds here?” She glared at Jake. “You told me this wasn't a hospital.”

“Hospitals traditionally are big and smell sterile. As you know, this building is the size of a small house. Therefore, it is classed as a medical facility, Rosebud.” Jake helped her to her feet. “And you need a bed because someone will have to monitor you for the night.”

“You took a bad head knock, Branna,” Doctor McBride added. “Annabelle will run through the instructions I expect you to follow soon, and when you leave, you’ll need to take it easy for a few days too. We’ll get you some pills for the pain, then Annabelle will keep you company through the night.”

“No!” Branna moved away from Jake and the doctor. “Th-thank you for caring for me Doctor, but I’m not staying here overnight.”

“Yes,” Jake stepped forward and took her arm before she’d made it to the door. “You’re doing exactly what the doctor tells you to, Branna.”

She looked at his handsome face, saw the determination and strength and felt her heart sink.

“I don’t want to.”

“But you will.” He pushed aside the hair that had fallen over her cheek and his hand felt warm against her skin. “Care to tell me why you don’t want to stay?”

“Because I—”

“It’s all right, Branna,” Annabelle stepped forward. “Really, I’ll be here with you and we’ll catch up on the past ten years. You'll grovel some and then I'll forgive you, and we can start being bitchy about the townsfolk; it'll be like old times.”

Jake released her as Annabelle took her arm and soon she was being directed down the hallway towards X-ray with her old friend at her side and her stomach filled with anxiety.

She kept her eyes closed throughout the procedure, which didn’t hurt, but still caused the memories she had buried deep inside her to surface. She saw the lights, heard the words, felt the pain of those months she’d spent in the hospital all over again.

Someone has to tell her soon that her mother’s dead.

Branna had heard these whispered words while she lay in her hospital bed, her head floating from medication, her body broken.

“All done Bran, now we’ll get you settled in a bed.” Annabelle took her arm again, and drained of energy, she let herself be led into a small room that had four beds; all had big soft pillows and bright yellow and blue striped covers. Admittedly, it looked nothing like the one that she'd stayed in for so many weeks and unlike then, she wasn't broken inside and out.

“See, it doesn't look anything like a hospital ward. No machines buzzing and clicking, no trays being wheeled about,” Annabelle said, as she nudged Branna down onto one of the beds. “You know that wrist is going to take a while to heal, Branna, right?”

“How long?” Branna questioned.

“Well that's up to you and whether you take Doctor McBride's advice or not.”

“I have to wear that?” Branna eyed the brace and sling Annabelle placed beside her on the bed.

“You're not going to give me trouble the entire time you're here, are you?”

“Probably,” Branna sighed. Now that she wasn't being poked and prodded, she felt a bit more relaxed. Taking the pills Belle held out to her, she swallowed them down then took a mouthful of water. She was still scared, but she was also exhausted, and the latter was pulling her eyes shut.

“Now, I’m going to be waking you through the night, Branna, so don’t slug me when I do.”

She gave Belle a weary smile; the day was suddenly catching up with her. “I’ll try not to.”

“How’s the worst patient to enter the hallowed halls of Yelp Medical Facility doing, Annabelle?”

Branna was too tired to open her eyes as Jake arrived at her bedside.

“How’s the pain, Rosebud?”

“It’s okay, starting to ease.”

“I need you to promise me not to make a run for it tonight.”

She sighed and then opened her eyes, and there he was. Mr. Way too Hot, McBride. Hair tousled, shoulders broad, and a slightly lopsided smile that was making her insides feel strange, which Branna put down to the pills. He’d always had that effect on her, even in high school, when she’d pretty much hated everyone.

“Go away and torture someone else, McBride.”

“A simple thank you will do.”

Perhaps it was the fear, or the pain, or the fact that finally, the realization that she had uprooted her life to come here was hitting her, but suddenly Branna felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyes. Closing them, she struggled to hold them back, but they slipped beneath her lashes and down her cheeks.

“It’s all right, Rosebud.” He talked softly about concussion and delayed shock, then using a tissue, he mopped up the flood of humiliating tears until finally Branna ran out of them.

“I- I’m actually a strong person,” she whispered.

He was still standing above her and Branna felt that horrible tug of need she used to feel when she sat behind him in class. She hoped like hell it was just because she was having a bad day.

“Thank you, Jake.”

He smiled. “That’s it? Thank you, Jake? After the torment I’ve endured at your hands, I get a ‘thank you, Jake?’ You’ve wept on me, bled on me, abused me, and let us not forget that I’ve carried your considerable weight a considerable distance.”

Branna heard Belle snort somewhere in the background.

“I think the least I deserve is for you to sell me the Mustang.”

Belle’s snort became a shout of laughter.

“You want the Mustang?” Branna asked Jake.

“I’ll give you a fair price.”

Branna was lying down, which was a distinct disadvantage against this man; she needed to be upright so she could get a good glare going on.

“You’re asking me now, when I have a concussion and can barely form a rational thought? That’s low, McBride.”

His smile wasn’t as bright as it had once been; it was just a small tug of his lips now, and she wondered what changes had taken place in this man’s life since she’d been gone.

“Rosebud, that old thing's just taking up room in your shed. Let me get it out of your way. I’d be doing you a favor.”

“Geraldine is a 1966 Ford Mustang 4speed manual 289 V8, McBride, not an old thing, as you put it, and it’s mine,” Branna said, squinting up at him. His face didn’t register shock that she, a woman, knew things about a car; he just looked at her with those black eyes.

“There was always something sneaky about you, even in school. I reckon it’s just had time to develop since you left Howling.”

“I could always outsmart you, McBride; glad to see some things stay the same.” Closing her eyes as she ran out of energy, Branna managed a small smile. “But, I do thank you, Jake, for everything you did for me today, even though I may have been a bit difficult.”

“A bit,” he snorted. “You owe me, Rosebud, and payment will be a drive in that car.”

Branna was pretty sure her smile wouldn’t slip until she fell asleep.

The night was long and by the time Annabelle woke her for the last time as the dawn was breaking, Branna thought briefly about letting the curse that was forming on her lips loose, but Nurse Smith looked tired too, so she swallowed it instead.

“Okay, Branna, that about does it; the torture is over for both of us. Now, go back to sleep, and when you wake I’ll get you home.” Annabelle yawned after these words.

“You go get some sleep too, Belle.”

“Will do, and I’ll be right over there,” she said, pointing to the bed beside Branna’s.

“It’s good to see you again, Belle,” Branna finally found the courage to say the words she’d being thinking about through the long night. They hadn’t talked, because mostly Branna had slept, but it was still comforting to have her old friend here.

“You too, Branna, we’ll catch up soon.”

She wanted to, but it had been so long since she’d had a real friend like Annabelle Smith, in fact, probably since she was last in Howling, that she wasn’t really sure if she could still do it. She lay quietly as Annabelle settled into sleep and was soon breathing deeply, only then did Branna rise and swing her legs over the edge of the bed.

She felt like a wreck; her head hurt; she needed a shower, and her arm was in a really uncomfortable brace. Looking about for her clothes, she found them on a chair. Slowly and with one hand, she managed to remove her hospital gown and pull on her clothes. Finding some paper and a pen, she wrote Annabelle a note saying she’d gone home. Slipping on the sling that Jake had told her she had to wear along with the brace, she headed for the door.

The doors opened from the inside and then locked behind her as Branna made her way outside into the cool morning air. Shivering in her shorts and tank, she looked up and down the street. As usual, she’d reacted without thinking things through, and now it seemed she was going to have to walk home. Unlike Washington, Howling didn’t have ten taxis ready to pick her up the minute she stepped off the curb.

Making her way down the long driveway, she let the cool, crisp and quiet morning air settle around her. Howling had always tugged at something inside Branna. Once it had made her long for what she couldn't have. Long to belong to somewhere and to someone. When she'd first arrived to go to high school, she'd been numb with grief from the death of her mother and hoped this small town would help both her and her father heal; she'd soon realized that hope was foolish.

Reaching the end of the drive, Branna headed down the main street. There was no litter or drunken people coming home from the night before; here, all was quiet. Howling was a town where you could settle and be safe. Your children would be happy and allowed to run down the streets and go to the shops without fear of something happening to them.