Promises (10 page)

“Jim?  Jason?”

Jason glanced over his shoulder, saw his mother approaching with a concerned expression and smiled while stepping aside to allow in Jim.  “Just greeting your date, Mum.”

Almost anxiously, Lora looked from one to the other of them.

“You look lovely.” Admiringly, Jim handed her the small bouquet of violets.

Lora’s cheeks flushed, her eyes brightened, the almost shy smile wreathing her face making her appear so much younger.  “Thank you.  They’re beautiful.”

Shutting the door, Jason felt a little uncomfortable.  What did one say to their mother’s date?  After warning them, that is?

Lora saved him.  “Come into the kitchen and talk to Harris while I put these in a vase.”

Warning delivered, now Jason didn’t quite know what to do while Lora led Jim into the kitchen.  Hovering in the hallway, he felt like a third wheel.  The whole damned evening was freaking him out a little.  He shoved his hands in his pockets, deliberated sneaking into the lounge room and turning on the TV.

Lora stepped out into the hallway from the kitchen, pointed at him and crooked her finger.

Okay, the lounge room was out and so was the TV.  Jason pulled a face, she jabbed her finger at him again and with a mental sigh, he walked into the kitchen, watching as his mother retrieved a vase from the pantry and filled it with water.

Leaning against the wall, he listened as Jim and Harris talked easily. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have come.  Maybe he should have skulked around outside, waylaid Jim before he rang the doorbell, warned him and then taken off before his mother had seen him.  Would’ve been a better plan than standing there watching his mother and her
date
.

“So, Jason.”  Jim turned in the chair to look at him.  “Lora tells me you work for Harris.”

“Handyman.”  Jason nodded.

“And you’re doing up an old house you bought.”

“You know. Handyman.”  Jason shrugged.  “Got the know-how.”  Geez, he sounded surly when he didn’t mean to, so he managed a faint smile.  “Comes in handy.”

“He’s wonderful at his job,” Lora said.

“She has to say that,” Jason said.  “Being my mother and all.”

Lora smiled proudly at him.

A few more painful exchanges - mostly on his side, not Jim’s - and then thank goodness his mother and her
date
left.  Jason was more than aware of that big ham hand of Jim’s at the back of his mother’s waist as he ushered her out the door.  Lora blew him a kiss before they left and he cringed at a sudden thought - oh God, what if Jim and his mother
kissed
?

It was the most disturbing and sickly thought.  She was his Mum.  Seeing her as a woman dating, maybe becoming intimi-
oh no, not going there!

“Okay!”  He yanked the car keys from his pocket.  “Gotta go.”

“Need some fresh air?” Uncle Harris asked dryly.

“You have no idea.”

His uncle’s rich, deep chuckle rolled through the room.

~*~

The supermarket was busy.  Even though it was open seven days a week, people still filled the store.

Taken from stacking the shelves to help man the checkouts, Izzy smiled at shoppers, put their groceries through, packed the bags and gave them their change.

As the last shopper cleared her checkout and she had time for a quick breather, she glanced around.  She enjoyed working in the supermarket.  Previously she’d worked in a dress shop, but it was the supermarket she liked the best.  If she was here long enough, she aimed to go higher.  Who knew, maybe one day she’d score the job of assistant manager.

Giving her shoulders a quick roll, she looked up as the next customer slid into her row.  Her smile froze, her mind going blank as she found herself looking into a face she’d hoped to never again see.

“Hi, Izzy.”  Moira smiled.

She hadn’t changed.  Her hair was still elegantly curled, her clothes expensive, her handbag worth more than what Izzy paid on weekly rent.

“Good morning.”  Izzy gave the polite response automatically, dropping her gaze to concentrate on the few items Moira had placed on the conveyer belt.  Her heart bumped uncomfortably but she was relieved to see that her hands didn’t shake.

“You’re looking good,” Moira said.

“Thank you.”  Izzy carefully bagged the groceries.  “That’ll be twenty four dollars and sixty cents, please.”  Heat rose in her chest, the faint licks of anger singeing her memories.

Moira slid a bank card into the EFTPOS machine.  “I was hoping we could have a cup of coffee sometime soon.”

The faint licks gave way to a surge of anger, but Izzy bit back the sharp reply, keeping her gaze on the screen in front of her. 
She’s not worth it.  Don’t screw up what you have.  She’s nothing.

“So, what do you say, Izzy?  Coffee?  Maybe in your lunch break?”

Izzy watched the information come up on the screen and followed the instructions, ringing off the purchases and tearing off the receipt which she handed to her sister.  “Thanks, but no.”

“It’s been awhile.” Moira tucked the card away.  “Please?”

This time Izzy looked her right in the eyes.  “No.”

“Izzy-”

Spotting a couple hovering not far away, Izzy called out, “Next please.”

Moira bit her lip, forced a smile.  “I’ll see you soon then, eh?”

Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

Moira walked off and Izzy automatically greeted the next shoppers, went through the motions, all the while her mind whirling.  What the hell did Moira think she was doing?  After all she and Jarrod had done, she thought a cup of coffee and a nice little chat could fix it?

All the old anger, the old pain, threatened to come rolling back and she had to force it down, knowing she didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on it while working.  But come lunchtime, she was hiding out in the staff room instead of sitting out on the park benches for lunch.  She could sit and think without fear that Moira would be waiting for her.

Whatever her sister wanted, it would be nothing good.  Even worse, knowing Moira, she wasn’t finished yet in trying to get what she wanted, and that meant she would track down where Izzy lived.

Her hands tightened on the sandwich, squishing the bread as she inhaled deeply, fighting down the alarm and anger combined.  Damn it, her sister was in the past,  Izzy sure as hell didn’t want her in her present or her future.

By the time Mikki arrived for the late shift that would continue until closing time at eight o’clock, Izzy had her emotions under control and was able to greet her friend with a cheerful wave.

“Good grief.”  Mikki touched her hair, neatly confined in a plait and wound up in a bun.  “It’s pouring rain out there.  I thought I was going to drown between the car and here.”

“I like the rain.  It freshens everything up, goodness knows we need it.”

“I just hope you brought a ‘brolly or raincoat.”  Mikki noted Izzy’s expression.  “No worries, you can have my raincoat.”

“And let you drown on your way out tonight?”  Izzy shook her head.  “I’ll be fine.  Besides, the rain might have stopped by then.”

“Maybe you could slip out to Target on your break and buy a raincoat.”

“When I already have one in my closet?  No way.”

“You’re tight-fisted, Kempton.”

“I’m saving for my own place, remember?”

“It won’t do you any good when you catch your death of cold.”

“You don’t get a cold from getting wet.  You get a cold from a bug.”

“What kind of bug?  Fly?  Mozzie?”

“Oh, you’re so witty.”  Izzy smiled at the customer who fronted up to the counter.  “Good afternoon.”

“You’d think so,” he said sourly, “but it’s pouring out there and I have to pick the kids up from school.  I’ll get soaked going to the car, they’ll be soggy little buggers making the car seats wet.”

“I’ve heard it’s raining.”

“Bloody weather.”  He dumped the contents of the shopping trolley onto the conveyor belt, grumbling the whole time.

Oh joy.

When knock-off time arrived, Izzy gave Mikki a cheerful wave goodbye and headed out back to collect her handbag.  At the staff entrance, she looked out in dismay at the rain pouring down.  After ten minutes of waiting with a couple of her co-workers, she decided that it had set in well and truly, and double-backed inside.  Leaving the supermarket, she walked out into the shopping centre, bought a magazine at the newsagent and settled at one of the little cafés that were dotted around the complex. 

Having a yummy bought dinner and reading a magazine wasn’t such a bad thing, she thought as she settled down next to the window.  Beyond the verandas she could just see the car park.  Blurred colours revealed where cars were parked, and the odd person in brightly coloured raincoats braved the rain to dash to or from the cars, in too much of a hurry to be able to wait out the worst of the rain.

One of the bonuses of not having a husband or kids, Izzy decided, opening the magazine.  She was free to make her own choices.  And this was a great choice.

The waitress delivered a plate of piping hot delicious food, and Izzy ate and read, aware of the darkness gathering outside, the lights glowing blurrily in the car park.  By the time she’d finished a leisurely meal the rain had lightened to a misty spray.  The perfect time to leave.

Sprinting out into the car park, she beeped the car lock open and jumped inside.  Vaguely she was aware of someone in front of the car as she started the engine but wasn’t worried, until she flicked on the headlights and found herself staring directly into the wet, angry face of the man she’d never wanted to see again.  Her heart skipped a beat, her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Jarrod
.

Seemingly unfazed by the headlights, he glared at her for several seconds before turning and getting into the car parked in front of her.  She could only stare, heart thumping, as the tail lights flared red before the car pulled out and away.

Swallowing, Izzy glanced around to see if Moira stood nearby watching her, but it seemed only a few late shoppers were left.

Clenching her teeth, Izzy reversed out of the parking bay and headed home.  Wondering if Jarrod was following, she kept an eye on the review mirror, only to swear softly when she realised that the headlights behind her could belong to anyone.  She lived in a city, cars pulled in and out of the lanes, and it was too dark to see anything in particular.

As she drove home the anger inside her boiled up again.  How dare they?  After what they’d both done to her, how dare
he
glare at her and
she
want to be friends?  The betrayal went too deep, cut too sharp, hurt too much.  It wasn’t something she could ever forget.  She’d learned to live with it, to put it in the past, but Moira had dragged it straight back up with simply appearing and trying to be friendly.  The friendliness didn’t bode well.

“That bridge, sister, burned two years ago.”  Izzy pulled into the driveway and came to a stop, her knuckles white as she gripped the brake and pulled it up with force.  “There’s no mending it.”

Getting out of the car, she half expected Moira to be standing on the veranda waiting for her, but all was dark and quiet.  Probably a good thing, the mood she was in now wasn’t pleasant.  All she wanted was a hot shower, get into her nightie, make a hot mug of Milo and sit in front of the TV.

The sensor light lit her way to the door.  Arnie met her inside the front door, yelling indignantly for food.

“Oh crap.”  She dropped the keys into the little bowl.  “I forgot to lock you in the bedroom.  However,” she scooped him up into her arms and nuzzled his head, “you’re here and not waving happily at me from Jason’s window, so obviously you either now prefer it here, or the way to get out has somehow disappeared.”  Carrying Arnie into the kitchen, she placed him on the floor, shaking her head when he jumped up onto the kitchen bench.  “Bad boy.  And I, as usual, am not going to do a freaking thing about it.”  A dig in the pantry amongst a variety of little tins and she came back out brandishing one of his favourites.  “Chicken and giblets in gravy?”

Arnie blinked.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Pulling the lid open, she tipped the contents into his dish and slid it across to him.

Arnie fell on it like it was his only meal of the day, but considering he had half a bowl of biscuits sitting on the floor beside his water bowl, Izzy wasn’t worried.

Half an hour later she was showered, in her nightie, a mug of hot Milo on the little table beside the sofa, the TV on, and Arnie patrolling along the back of the sofa.

Immersed in the movie, she blindly reached out when the phone rang, lifting the cordless piece to her ear.  “Hello.”

“Izzy?”

Her attention was snapped away from the TV.  “What the - how did you get this number?”

“Cousin Verity gave it to me,” Moira replied.  “Please, Izzy, listen to me-”

Izzy hung up.  Bloody Verity, thinking she was the peacemaker in the family.  How dare she give Izzy’s private number to Moira?  Knowing what they’d done to her, how
dare
she?