February 14, 2009 by admin
Filed under Contemporary Romance, Looking for Home, Nan Donahue
M had been on her own, and taking care of herself — for the most part — for the last eleven years. She’d made it through a lot, and it took something big to unsettle her. This went beyond big. This was colossal. Galactic.
Feeling the blood drain from her head, she took a step back, as if dodging the blow of his words. Her hand went to her chest and pressed against her stuttering heart.
“Wh-What?”
He had the grace to look chagrined.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so blunt. It’s just…well, your presence comes as something of a shock. Summer never told us she had family.”
Her breath caught. Well, what did I expect? That’d she tell her rich new family about her poor old family?
“And in case you’re wondering, she didn’t leave a will.”
M knew he’d just insulted her, but that was the least of her worries. “It’s okay. I’m not surprised you didn’t know about me. Summer and I…we’re not…weren’t close.” She swallowed. Hard. “Well…um…okay. I’ll be going. Sorry to bother you.”
Her hand left her heart, and she pressed her palm to her throat. The taste of copper — the taste of fear — began to flood her mouth, and she wished she could stop it.
What was she going to do? Her whole plan — okay, she really didn’t have a full-fledged plan, she rarely did. But her idea hinged on having an extremely cheap — or even better, rent-free — place to stay for a while. She couldn’t afford to live in this city and start her business. She’d checked. To rent a single small room in Toronto would cost three to four hundred dollars a month. And that was in the scary parts of town. A one bedroom apartment could cost anywhere from six to — infinity! Her money would quickly run out at that rate.
Everything had hinged on Summer’s largess, and M had been prepared to beg for it.
She was halfway down the stairs when she heard the door close behind her.
Good. She was alone.
Fearing her suddenly wobbly legs would give out on her, she plopped down on the stairs. Clutching her arms around the bags in her lap, she buried her head in them.
She had to gain perspective.
Her sister was dead — dead! — and she was worrying about a place to live. She’d often accused her family of being self-centred, and here she was falling into that very same mindset. But to be fair, her life since leaving home — heck, even before leaving home — had forced her to look out for herself. She wasn’t self-absorbed, but she’d learned the hard way that she had to keep an eye out for herself. Nobody else was.
What could have happened? Summer was — had been — young and healthy. But she liked to live fast and loose. Maybe that had finally caught up with her. But what about her husband? He was dead too.
She sighed. She would mourn her sister, but she couldn’t change the past. She had a very difficult present of her own to deal with right now.
As always, she’d have to roll with the punches.
Oh, well. She’d been in situations worse than this. She’d been making it on her own for a long time. Maybe she could stay at the Y for a bit. Or just head right back out of Toronto.
No.
That wasn’t an option. She had a dream. She had something to prove. To herself and — well — to herself. She’d been aimless far too long. It was time to take a shot at staying in one place for a while. She wasn’t letting her first setback derail her — even if it was a big setback.
Two things happened at once. She saw an expensively shod foot in her peripheral vision and heard the voice that went with the foot.
“Why don’t you come inside? I really am sorry for telling you about your sister like that.”
Completely freaked, she nearly did a somersault down the stairs. Neither the stone steps nor the tumbled pavers at street level would have been forgiving.
Squelching a squeak, she popped up — nearly taking a header for the second time — and looked at him over her shoulder.
“No thanks. I’ll be going.”
She wasn’t a fool. She remembered him asking what kind of game she was playing. Just as the rich thought they were better than you, they were prone to believing people like her were involved in some nefarious plot to separate them from their money. And while she had hopes of rich people like him someday making her business a success, she didn’t have to like them, or suck up to them.
And besides, he’d probably watch her like a hawk if she did go in. As if she was going to steal the silver or something.
“Where will you go? You said you needed a place to…ah, ‘crash.’”
She looked back toward the street. “Is there a Y around here?”
“I have no idea.”
M sneered. “Of course you don’t. Not your kind of place, is it?”
She started down the stairs.
The sigh she heard could have passed for air brakes on a semi, but she kept going.
“Look, will you stop? I said I was sorry. This place is huge. If you need a place to stay, please stay here.”
The instant she felt his hand grab her upper arm, she wrenched herself away. What? First he tries to block her from entering the house, now he was going to drag her in? She didn’t think so.
She spun toward him, ready to let him have it, when she heard the front door bang open, and the inhuman screech of a banshee cut through the air. Every muscle in her body clenched and every hair attached to it stood straight up.
It took a moment, but she realized the screech was actually speaking English.
“Jonny! Where you going? Jonny!”
M looked up at the child standing in the doorway — how could someone that small make that much noise? — then looked back at Jonathan. Jonny? That was laughable. He so wasn’t a Jonny.
He dragged a hand through his hair, looking beleaguered. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Okay — not at all.
“Who — what — is that?”
“My little sister. Alicia.”
“Ah. The bratty kid. And here I thought she meant you.”
At the force of his glare, she nearly did the summersault thing down the stairs again. She really needed to get off them. At this rate, she’d die here. They’d intimidated her at first, but now they were going to be the death of her.
Those beast of prey eyes fit. He might give the impression of being the body double of a life size ice sculpture, but here was a wolf — puma — in sheep’s clothing.
“Excuse me?”
“Ah…nothing. Not a thing.” She started to ease herself backward. Damn. When would she learn to keep her thoughts to herself? She’d spent so much time alone over the years, she’d started speaking them aloud. Just to hear a voice. Problem was, she forgot to curtail that little habit when she wasn’t alone and it was always getting her into trouble.
“You mean Summer. Summer called her a bratty kid, didn’t she?”
She lifted her shoulders and squinched her face at him. “Well, it’s been a slice. I’ll just go now. I really think you need to need to go take care of — that.”
“That” was still screeching loud enough to wake the dead, and M wanted to be long gone when they arose.
Without saying a word, he grabbed her bags from where she’d dropped them and charged back up the stairs.
Want to read the entire story now?
Buy it using PayPal for $2.50
Canadian buyers will be charged 5% GST
OR
Complete ONE free survey, and download a PDF of the full length version of Looking for Home!
Thanks to Nan Donahue for sharing one of her manuscripts.
