Ask Me for Tomorrow (3 page)

‘Maybe. But he seemed almost desperate to talk to her.’

The brothers lapsed into silence for a moment, until Dean said, ‘You reckon Neenz is involved somehow?’

Ethan caught his first response and shelved it. He went with his second, less emotional one. ‘Did anyone mention her being involved?’ How could she be? Nina was charismatic, generous, and too damn cute for Ethan’s resolve. If he ever did say no to her, it was temporary at best. Surely she wasn’t the reason behind two boys fighting?

‘No,’ Dean conceded, ‘but something’s off.’

‘You don’t think . . .’ Ethan turned away from the window and leaned against the counter, his eyes on the many pictures and photographs stuck on the fridge. ‘I mean, Ro did lose it a bit a few years back. There was that one time he yelled at Nina and caused quite a scene.’

Bree had just died, and Nina had accidentally broken one of her mother’s necklaces. She’d been wearing over a dozen of them at the time and Rowan had upset her when he’d demanded she take the others off. It had been a tearful, angry scene, and it had taken both of the brothers to resolve it.

Dean thought for some time before speaking. ‘He didn’t physically hurt her, though. That’s not in his nature.’ Ethan glanced sidelong at Dean’s pensive face, at his lowered brows and compressed lips, and guessed what was coming. ‘At least, it wasn’t until this morning,’ Dean continued.

‘Maybe this was about Bree too?’ said Ethan. ‘With what’s happening tomorrow, his mum’s bound to be on his mind. What if he’s not as okay as we thought, you know? Maybe this is the first sign that he’s holding a lot of stuff in.’

Ethan hadn’t known Bree that well, but all week his mood had nosedived whenever he thought of tomorrow. He’d wondered if it was even a good idea, but it wasn’t his place to ask. If Dean and his kids wanted to celebrate Bree’s birthday, that was their prerogative. Ethan would be there in whatever capacity they needed, and then he’d find comfort in Sam’s arms. Even though they’d been married for less than a year, Ethan had loved Samantha for about half his life; the thought of losing her did painful, blistering things to his heart. He couldn’t guess how Dean managed to keep getting up every morning, and he hoped he’d never have to find out for himself.

Dean nodded again. Ethan had given him new things to think about.

Sensing it was time for a subject change, Ethan turned the topic to something he was infinitely more knowledgeable about: renovation.

‘So with the warehouse,’ he began, ‘I think you’re overreaching. I’ve said it a dozen times and it’s too late now anyway, because we’ve built the damn thing, but I can’t visualise smart use for that space. What are you going to do with it, short of using it as a more secure place to park your muscle cars and classics? Why won’t you tell me? Are you branching out?’

If Dean expanded the business in a significant way, it would ease Ethan’s conscience. As both carpenter and project manager, Ethan was being paid for work that to his mind seemed unnecessary, unless business was doing better than Dean was letting on. ‘Are you kitting out for wheel alignment?’

Dean laughed through his nose and pushed away from the kitchen bench. He tapped an index finger to his temple. ‘No. It’s all up here.’

‘More car hoists?’

‘No.’

‘Then I could have reduced the ceiling height by half!’

‘I need it that high.’

‘For
what
?’ Ethan threw his hands out, palms up, imploring his brother for more than a scrap of information. The project was nearing completion and Ethan was no wiser to its purpose than he had been at the beginning.

‘I know what I’m doing.’

Ethan sighed. ‘Okay.’ He’d tackle the subject again when Dean wasn’t in such an introspective mood. ‘Why are we doing the birthday thing tomorrow morning?’

‘Fiona isn’t available after work.’

That clinched it, Ethan thought. They were hardly going to celebrate Bree’s birthday without her mother. He nodded and rolled his shoulder in a lazy shrug. ‘I better be getting home. I didn’t tell Sammy I was going to be here so long. Is this under wraps, or what?’ He lifted his chin in Rowan’s direction. When Dean shook his head Ethan headed in the direction of the front door. ‘Until tomorrow then.’

And all the things tomorrow would bring.

Chapter Three

Raindrops rolled down the window like tears. The little bit of morning sky that Dean could see from bed was bruised with thunderclouds, and the wind sounded like the wail and whistle of lost souls. He closed his eyes and wondered whether he was happy that the world mirrored the grey within him, or whether it would have been nicer to celebrate Bree’s birthday under the golden sun she’d loved so much.

Either way it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t see this day. It would come and go without her bell-like laugh and her smiling eyes, and the only people who would care about the weather were the people undoubtedly on their way to the house now.

Bree would have been thirty-four today if she hadn’t died senselessly two and a half years ago. She’d slipped on soap in the shower and broken her neck.

A part of Dean had died that day too. His heartache might have poisoned his body if it hadn’t been for his son and daughter; thanks to them, he’d endured. Rowan and Nina had grown thirty-odd centimetres between them since their mother had passed, and they were used to her being gone now. Dean was too, in a lot of ways.

Time had marched on for the survivors. It hadn’t been easy, but it hadn’t been optional either.

It had taken a long time before he could go ten minutes without thinking about Bree, and he still suffered on the special days. Getting out of bed each day had been hard, but every day he’d rallied, and he’d smiled, and he’d worked damn hard at convincing everyone that he was a functional, emotionally stable human being. Eventually, he’d stopped acting that way and started being that way instead.

But getting better hadn’t been without its setbacks. Not counting his family and closest friends, no one really expected him to ever move on. Obviously, he missed the woman he’d vowed to love for the rest of his life – she was like a ghost limb, a constant presence in this house and in his children – but the unthinkable had parted them. There were some people who spoke to him as if he was a broken man, and others who couldn’t take the sympathy out of their expressions.

Some days he hated the townspeople’s pity and other days he just hated himself. There wasn’t a manual he could refer to – he had no idea when he was allowed to move on, or if what he was feeling was natural. Was it wrong to look forward? Wasn’t that what Bree would have wanted?

He didn’t want to stand in the rain with a bunch of people and talk about Bree and the birthday she’d missed. If he’d had his way, he would’ve had a wine at dinner then hugged his kids tightly to commemorate the day. Did that make him a bad person? A reprobate widower? Did it even mean anything?

Dean pushed the doona and sheet down the bed and swung his feet onto the floor. Today was going to suck – whatever the weather – and moping in bed wasn’t going to move things along any faster.

When he trudged into the hallway, Nina’s bedroom door was open. Looking inside, he saw that her pyjamas were folded at the bottom of her neatly made bed, which could only mean that Sam was here. This afforded him a degree of reassurance. It would be good for him to start this day with people as optimistic as Sam and Ethan. They’d been a constant source of comfort for Dean and his little family. Ethan had returned to Hinterdown at the same time as Bree’s funeral, and although the brothers’ reunion had been a rocky one, they’d come to find a deep friendship in one another again; shared, of course, with their mate since childhood, the newly engaged Caleb O’Hara, Samantha’s brother.

The O’Hara family had been an extension of Dean’s own for over twenty years, and he was grateful that they were rallying around him today.

He checked Rowan’s room but it, too, was empty and in an unusual state of cleanliness.

Nobody was in the kitchen when he shuffled in, nor in the living room where people were often found slumped on the couch.

Outside, then, he thought as he stepped into his yard shoes and reached for his wet-weather jacket. Shrugging it on, he shouldered the back door open. He, Ethan and Cal had built the verandah he walked on now; Ethan had married Samantha on it. This house was full to bursting with more good memories than bad, and Dean carried this thought with him as he crossed the grass to join the small group of people huddled beneath the willow tree by the creek.

Ethan looked up and smiled when he heard Dean approach. He was wearing a bulky jacket but underneath he was still in his pyjamas, which made Dean a little less self-conscious about his own state of dress. Ethan was wet from the rain but the chairs he’d dragged out from the shed were dry. The blue tarpaulin tied to the strongest limbs of the tree flapped in the wind, making a sharp snapping sound.

Ethan was always doing things for this family. Small things, but they were infinitely considerate.

Since his brother had come home, Dean had taught himself to notice and acknowledge such gestures. It hadn’t been easy to see them at first, but as the brothers had grown closer Dean learned Ethan’s style, and now he saw these little acts of kindness everywhere.

‘Good morning,’ he murmured. ‘Thanks for the seats and the tarp.’ He swallowed. There was a lump of emotion in his throat so big he thought it might choke him. ‘Thanks for coming.’

‘No problem,’ was Ethan’s answer. He slapped Dean on the back and stepped aside when Sam joined them.

Sam’s smile was careful and measured, as it always was when she spoke to Dean about Bree. ‘I’m sorry about the rain. I wish it was nicer weather.’ Her cola-coloured hair was scraped up into a ponytail. She had a round face, a small nose and a slight frame, but she was strong. Always had been. A tomboy with an interest in farming plant machinery, she’d been friends with Bree since high school, and had done her damnedest to be there for the kids since their mother had gone. Dean doubted he would have got through the last few years without her.

He hugged her. ‘Thanks for sorting out the kids.’ Who were at that moment sliding along the wet grass as if there were wheels on their feet. Nina wore a rain hat pulled low over her heart-shaped face, and a shiny plastic raincoat that billowed around her little body. Her auburn curls were frizzy and there was grass stuck to her cheek. Dean frowned at the colourful flowers on her coat, which looked suspiciously drawn on, then looked over at his son.

Rowan’s arms and legs seemed too long for his body, his mop of brown curls defying style. Rowan was all Ethan except for the grey eyes, which had come from Rowan’s late grandfather. Ethan and Dean had their mum’s brown eyes.

Thinking this brought Bree back to mind – another wonderful mother worth remembering. Maybe this morning wouldn’t be as bad as expected. Maybe it would be kind of nice.

‘Dean.’ Sam touched his elbow to get his attention. ‘Do you know there’s a nasty bruise on Nina’s back? I saw it when I was helping her change.’

‘A bruise?’

‘A big one.’ Seeing Dean’s surprise, she hastened to comfort him. ‘She hasn’t complained about it, so she might not even know it’s there. Kids are always banging into things.’

‘Okay. Thanks, Sam.’ He looked over at Nina skidding on the slippery grass, her face alight with enjoyment, and wondered.

A four-door ute turned into the driveway and bumped along the gravel. It stopped near Dean’s charcoal Mazda 3. There was a moment of quiet, then the passenger door opened. A woman shouted as a dog launched itself from the cab, slipped in the mud, righted itself then charged for Nina, barking madly. Nina instantly forgot her game and ran towards it. Their reunion was more like a collision. Floyd the blue heeler bathed Nina’s scrunched-up face in doggy drool, and she loved every second of it.

Rowan galloped over and flung his arms around the pair. Dean laughed when the three overbalanced and toppled onto the grass.

‘You say okay to the dog, but not to Boo?’ Sam joked, referring to her maniac goose.

‘Boo lost visiting privileges the day he was born.’

Olivia Law slid from the ute, slammed the door then jogged over to the group. When she was beneath the tarpaulin and out of the rain, she threw her hoodie back and sighed theatrically. She grinned at Dean and as always, he thought of pixies and fairies. Her short, spiky hair was redder than Nina’s, and her narrow face, pointed features and enormous eyes added a cute, almost mythical quality to her appearance. She was short and slight and her mischievous streak was wider than Dean’s property.

‘Hiya,’ she said. ‘I come bearing condolences and croissants. BYO preserves, I’m afraid.’ She lifted up a bag of fresh pastries baked so recently that steam was forming little drops of condensation on the plastic.

He thanked her with a hug and waited for Caleb to join them. At six foot, Cal had a fair bit of height over Liv, but was about level with Dean. His tousled black hair, strong-lined features and solid arms earned him many looks from the women about town. Dean teased him accordingly.

Cal had stepped out of the ute and right into a deep puddle, so his expression was a little pinched when he arrived beneath the tarp. ‘Nice day for it,’ he said, shaking Dean’s hand then hugging his sister. ‘Sorry about the dog.’

Dean shrugged. ‘The tackling started before you got here, don’t worry.’

‘That’s all right, then. Who’re we waiting for?’ He nodded a greeting at Ethan.

‘Fiona.’

And as if summoned, her car turned into the driveway.

Bree had looked very little like her mother. She’d been more classic and natural, compared to Fiona’s typical pressed slacks, starched shirts and fine jewellery. Despite Fiona’s country surrounds, she always looked ready to host a charity auction. Even today, her face crumpled with grief and the rain beating down on her umbrella, she looked stylish. Dean narrowed his eyes at the heeled boots she wore. No one spoke as she took one delicate step after another through the rain-soaked grass towards them.

She’d done it hard these few years past. Her husband had left her before Bree died, so it was just Fiona in that big house on the other side of the town. Dean knew she filled it with friends and causes, and she said no to his invitations to dinner more often than she said yes – but Dean still worried about her.