CHAPTER TWELVE
She’d meant to go back to the house; it had been her plan. Once there she’d pack and get out of town. Instead she’d found herself in the trails after sprinting down the main street so no one from Wildlife saw her, in case they were still in town. Once the cool of the redwoods surrounded her, she stopped and exhaled.
“Hello.”
A young boy was coming toward her. Tall, thin, he hadn’t yet grown into his feet or legs. She had an inkling she knew who he was.
“You lost?” The tone of his voice told Hope he’d encountered his fair share of lost tourists on the trails.
“No, I’m a local. Hope Lawrence.”
“Really? Wow.”
She found a laugh at his shock. It was a common reaction.
“What’s the problem, did you expect me to have horns and a tail like my mother?”
Color flooded his cheeks.
“It’s all right, I know her faults. Don’t beat yourself up.” And she did, but Hope also knew that her mother would lay down her life for her children, she just had a strange way of showing it.
“You any good with that?”
He was pointing to the camera she had slung around her neck.
“Not bad actually. How about you?”
“I don’t have one, but we get to use the school ones, and I’m quite good with that. The teacher says I have an eye for it.”
His large feet were in worn sneakers, and he wore a T-shirt two sizes too big. Baggy shorts hung off his skinny hips.
“What’s your name?”
“Mikey Tucker.”
Her hunch had been right. Mikey Tucker was a local kid who Branna and Jake McBride had kind of unofficially adopted. As had their posse. She took him for about fourteen now.
“So what are you photographing at school at the moment?” Hope walked and Mikey fell in beside her. This place had magical qualities, she was sure of it. Shafts of light filtering through the trees touched here and there. The scent was raw and natural. Hope loved it. She could breathe here, surrounded by what she loved. She felt the tightness inside her ease with every step.
“A bonsai tree that my teacher, Mr. Bird, brought in.”
“So here’s the thing about photography, Mikey. It’s all about manipulation and capturing light. Some people will tell you it’s about the camera, but actually the real magic is getting the light right. A really well-lit subject can be photographed badly, just as a badly lit subject won’t look good.”
Hope took some time with Mikey to think about something other than the implosion that was her life. Photography was her life, so why not share some of that.
Mikey pulled out his phone.
“You’re making a phone call now… really?”
“No, I’m taking notes.”
“Okay, right. You’re not into notepads then?”
He gave her a look that told her she was a dinosaur.
“Whatever. Now listen up. If I was to photograph those trees there, how would you have me do it?” Hope pointed to the left.
He studied the scene.
“I’d stand here.” He pointed to a spot a foot from where Hope stood.
“Sure, and that would be a good shot, but there’s a couple of things you need to consider when taking pictures of trees. Firstly, which is the lead actor tree, and which ones are his supporting cast. Secondly, you don’t need to center everything, because often the perfectly centered shot loses its balance.”
“Well, hell. Have a little faith, Hope.”
Hope turned to find Faith Harris coming toward her, tall, elegant, with beautiful deep brown eyes, soft arched brows, and thick lashes. Hope had been jealous of those eyelashes in school. Faith’s Native American heritage was in the thick, straight long black hair and mocha-colored skin. They’d been friends of a sort in school, even though Faith was older. Weirdly, Faith had liked Hope, even though she’d been one of the “it” kids. That could have had something to do with Hope doing her homework however.
“Have a little hope, Faith,” she said by way of reply. It had always been their thing to greet each other this way.
“Ha,” Mikey said. “That was quite funny.”
“For old people, do you mean?” Faith said.
“Yeah,” he added. “So I don’t have anyone to build my boat with, because Jake’s with Buster, Newman is with Noah, and the Texans are pairing up. Then Branna is with Annabelle, and Macy is judging. Willow told me she’s drawing, too. So will you two help me?”
“Are we your last resort? Because if that’s the case, I’m offended,” Faith said.
Mikey was a bright boy, and simply smiled at Faith.
“I’m in because I want to beat Noah, and she’ll help I’m sure,” she added, nodding to Hope. “She was really smart in school.”
“I’m smart,” Mikey said, “so that could work.”
He wasn’t bragging, just stating it as it was, Hope realized.
“Oh, I’m not sure I’ll be here,” she said quickly. “Anyway, haven’t you got a brother?”
“Connor’s a dickhead.”
“Well that settles that then, and I’m sure I should tell you not to swear, Mikey,” Faith said, winking at him. “So what are you two doing out here? Burying a body? Smoking something illegal? Or maybe being one with nature?”
“Hope’s teaching me about photography. She’d good, and I want to learn,” Mikey said. “So maybe we could do this again tomorrow at the same time. I’ll meet you down at the lake by the sheriff’s office. Water’s a problem for me, because of the glare on the lens. Bring some ideas for the boat. See ya.”
Before Hope could tell him she couldn’t commit to the lessons, and wouldn’t be there to help with the boat race, the boy had gone, lifting a hand in farewell.
“Do I get a say?”
“Not so much,” Faith said, as they watched him lope away.
“So, Hopeful, tell me this. Can I get you behind the bar tonight? We had two employees call in sick this morning, and Noah’s pulling his hair out.”
“Ah, no, I don’t think so, but thanks.” If she was behind the bar, she could run into the Wildlife people.
Faith studied her.
“Why not? You get rich while you were gone?” Faith looked her over. “Because if you did, you need to do something about this.” She waved a hand up and down, indicating Hope’s clothing.
“What’s with you people and this fixation you all have about looking good?”
“Honey, just looking normal would work for you.”
“Bitch,” Hope muttered.
“Sure, now listen up. If you’re worried about those Wildlife folk seeing you, seeing as I know you worked for them, then don’t. They came into town a while ago, picked up supplies, and then left. They’ve hired the old Harboridge House four miles out of town. They don’t plan on coming back, because they’re too good for us.”
“I’m sure they didn’t say that,” Hope said, feeling the tightness in her chest ease at knowing the Wildlife team weren’t in town. She then thought about her bank balance, or lack thereof. Could she take the chance? Four miles out of town meant they wouldn’t be walking about every day. A night’s wages from the Howler would make a difference for her leaving.
“No, but I filled in the gaps. They stocked up with supplies and headed out to take pictures of some rare bird—”
“The Great Blue Heron,” Hope said. Remembering the conversation she’d had with Jay about the bird, and how Wildlife should come to Oregon and photograph it. Bastard. She added another black mark to his name.
“The very one.” Faith nodded. “They then told Noah they have their own chef, and will be ordering supplies that they want delivered. Stuck-up bastards.”
Hope knew how the Wildlife people could come across, because she’d once been one of them. Single-minded and focused.
“So how about it? I mean, you worked for us briefly years ago. I’m sure you’ll pick it up easily again.”
“Sure. What time?”
“Be there at six, you can help set up.”
Faith had a way of talking that was slow and easy, just like she walked. Not much ruffled her, except her twin brother. He could get under her skin quicker than anyone else.
“Sure.”
“You got anything resembling a denim skirt in your closet?” Faith looked Hope up and down, and she refused to squirm.
“I have jeans?”
“Bare legs are best, it’ll get hot in there. Any chance you have something other than those boots?”
“What’s wrong with my boots?”
Faith liked clothes, unlike Hope. Everything she wore was given a great deal of thought, and usually money. Like Newman, she wore clothes well, unlike Hope who never quite got it right, but didn’t give a damn because she’d never really tried.
“They’re”—Faith circled a finger in the air—“threatening.”
“They are not!”
“Okay, how about I don’t want you stomping on anyone’s foot tonight. Come early, I’ll lend you some stuff. We’ll discuss boat designs, and I’ll see if I can find Noah’s and copy them.”
Like Mikey, she waved, and then she was gone, and Hope looked at the ground, focusing on the dirt, and leaves, the tree roots fighting their way to the surface. Long, thick vines crisscrossed the path before her.
“This place,” she muttered. In a few days, she’d said she would do a photo shoot for a spring catalogue, pictures for Mac for his website, and was building a boat. Add to that working in the Howler, and she was suddenly in employment for at least a week, maybe two. Could she stay and do it with Wildlife so close?
“You can’t keep running forever, Hope,” she said to a large redwood.
She’d stay and make a plan, and then with the money she got from her jobs she’d work out her next move. Her mother would be happy if she hung around, so she’d give her a couple of weeks, and some of her wages, then get out of town and start her life all over again someplace else.
The Howler was quiet when Hope let herself in at 5:45 p.m. Her mother had forced her to eat a lentil casserole that was still giving her issues, and had formed a solid mass in her stomach. Cooking was not her mother’s strong suit. She’d told her not to wait up. Millicent had nodded her approval that Hope was working, handed her a key, and that was pretty much that. She got her conversational skills from her mother.
“Hey there, Hope.”
Noah Harris was a bigger version of his sister. Broad, with short dark hair, he had the face of a warrior, and wore his heritage in every line. Handsome, like many who lived in Howling, she had grown up with him. In fact, Noah and Faith were probably the closest thing to friends Hope had ever had.
She accepted his hug and tried not to stiffen up too much when he kissed her cheek.
“Nice to see you’re still all warm and cuddly.”
She snorted as he released her. “This town and its need to hug and kiss is really off-putting.”
He gave her a wide smile that flashed a mouthful of white teeth.
“So I hear you’re doing the shoot for Macy. Should be fun, all them modelling for the day. And that you’ve signed up to help Mikey and Faith build a boat that will sink.”
“Why will it sink?” Hope accepted the arm he slung around her shoulder as he led her through reception and into the bar.
A big stone fireplace had a wide hearth that people sat on in the winter. Rustic like the rest of Howling, the walls hung with history and Packers stuff. The Harris family had owned it forever, and it was now run by the twins.
“Come on, are you kidding me? There’s no way in hell you three could build a boat. Faith’s honed skill is shopping, and yours is taking pictures. I’m sure Mikey will have some ideas, but not sure you’ll be able to actually build a boat. If you do manage to get something to stay afloat, it will have to be you and Mikey paddling it, as Faith hates water. And we’ll be stronger, so you’ll lose.”
“Feeling threatened already, Noah?”
Hope found Faith behind the bar, long hair now in a braid that hung over her left shoulder, a red bandana around her head. She came around the bar, glaring at Noah. Like him she wore a short-sleeved white shirt that had The Howler printed in red over the left pocket. Her denim skirt was short and showed miles of leg. On her feet were sneakers.
He scoffed at his sister’s words. “I just don’t want you to humiliate yourself.”
Faith rolled her eyes, but said nothing further. Grabbing Hope’s wrist, she dragged her to the stairs. They then climbed to where the siblings had their rooms.
“See, we have to beat him, Hope.”
“I forgot how competitive you two are.”
“It’s a twin thing,” Faith said, entering her room.
“Wow, this place is a mess.” Hope stood in the middle and did a turn. There were clothes, shoes, and makeup everywhere. Every available surface was covered in something. Beside the bed, books were piled four feet high. Drawers were open and more clothes spilled out. Color was everywhere. Hope had never owned enough clothes to fill a suitcase, let alone an entire room.
“Yup, just how I like it.” Grabbing a pile off her bed, she handed them to Hope. “I think these will fit.”
“I was going to bring my sneakers, but they’re a bit worn.”
“You do surprise me.”
“Not everyone’s main focus in life is fashion, Faith.”
“It should be, because clothes do maketh the man. Now this is the uniform tonight. White shirt, denim skirt, sneakers, and red bandana. So change already, and I’ll see you downstairs.”
“I don’t wear red headscarves.” Hope looked at the offensive item Faith held out to her.
“Don’t be a sissy, it’s a bandana.” Faith snatched the bandana back. “I’ll put it on you when you get downstairs. Now hurry up and stop bitching. You’re getting paid, aren’t you?”
“You people are way too used to having your own way,” Hope muttered when Faith had left. Stripping, she pulled on the shirt, which fit, but was a bit snug over the breasts, as she had a bit more there than Faith. The sneakers fit perfectly, as did the skirt.
“Great, I look like a preppy schoolkid, but I’ll do it for money,” Hope said, looking in the mirror. She was all about being different, and not following any trends. Individuality had always been her thing, because her mother didn’t have the money to clothe her in what the other kids wore.
Stuffing her clothes into her backpack, Hope left it and her boots beside the bed and headed back down to the bar.
Noah’s wolf whistle had her giving him the stink eye.
“Get behind the bar, you sexy thing, and we’ll get you started.”
“I want to beat him now,” Hope said to Faith when she joined her.
“He has that effect on people.”
Hope had worked there years ago, so it wouldn’t take too long to reacquaint herself.
“So what’s the deal tonight?”
“It’s rock ’n’ roll night.”
“Okay, so that explains the preppy look,” Hope said.
“Now sit while I fix your hair.”
“Aww, look at you girls, playing hair and stuff,” Noah said, walking past with several bottles of wine in his arms. “Brings back memories… no, wait, that was someone else.”
“Dickhead,” Faith said dragging a brush through Hope’s hair and making her eyes water as she tugged at the knots.
“Christ, Hope, I may need to get the rake from the yard for this. When did you last brush it?”
“Bite me.”
It was ruthlessly brushed until it was knot-free. Faith then tied the bandana in place.
“At least it’s red so it will soak up the blood.”
“Wimp. Now, I’m applying makeup, so don’t kick me.”
“What?” Before she could move, Faith was painting stuff on her face. “I didn’t sign up for makeup.”
“What’s your problem with doing girl stuff?”
“I don’t have a problem with it,” Hope muttered. “I just don’t like it.”
“You’ve never tried it because your mother doesn’t use it. But it’s nice to wear now and again. So sit still, because tonight you’re wearing some so you don’t scare our customers away.”
Hope had never worn makeup. It was just never a thing she’d explored as a teen, and then as she got older she’d lost the urge. “Whatever, just get it done, will you.”
Faith wielded a brush on her eyes, and eyeliner pencil, and brushed something over her cheeks. She then stroked mascara on her lashes.
“Relax your mouth.”
Her lips were then painted.
“There now, and it didn’t even hurt. Now go and restock the spirits, and start cleaning the glasses.”
“Yes, boss.” Hope resisted the urge to scrub her face.
Noah appeared with more wine, and whistled loudly as he looked at Hope.
“Damn, girl, where the hell you been hiding?”
“Ha bloody ha,” Hope muttered. “This shit makes my face itch.”
He smiled, but backed out of the bar before she smacked it off his face.
“It’s Newman’s birthday, so try and be nice to him for five minutes,” Faith said.
Damn, damn, damn. She’d hoped like hell he wouldn’t turn up, but it seemed like she’d have to face him and no doubt his questions.