Promises, Promises (Class of '85) Page 2

  Mike stepped back, brain whirling. The shadows around Kelly’s eyes, her gaunt look, the very un-trendy clothes? He gave a mental slap to his own head. That bastard Geoff had left her with nothing and she’d slept in the train station last night. To top everything off, her socially-prominent parents didn’t bother to meet her at the train station. That was wrong on so many levels he couldn’t even count them.

  She looked up, their eyes met, and she ducked out of his father’s hug. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m sure my ride is…coming. Probably stuck in traffic or something. I don’t want to put you out or anything, Mr. Doogan.”

  When he realized he was scowling, and it occurred to him Kelly might think the dark look was directed at her, he immediately replaced it with a sad half smile. “There’s no traffic, Kelly. C’mon. Dad’s right. We’re not going to leave you stranded out here.” He held out his hand without thinking, and his smile grew as she took it. He gave it a gentle but reassuring squeeze as fierce feelings of protection swelled in his chest.

  ****

  After settling in the front seat of the Doogan’s Tahoe, Kelly relaxed for the first time in probably a week. The man behind the wheel drove like a force of nature, keeping up a running commentary on other drivers and their parentage, life in Summerville, and the many virtues of his son. She could almost feel Mike wince every time his name entered the conversation—son, Little Mike, Junior. Back in high school, everyone called him Little Mike and she wondered if anyone ever called him Michael.

  “Hope you two aren’t in a hurry. I need to make a stop,” Big Mike said with a jovial grin. He pulled into an office warehouse, put the big SUV in park and lumbered out, leaving the engine running and the radio playing softly.

  Kelly reached over and turned up the volume as the strains of Simple Minds’ “Don’t You Forget About Me” wafted from the speakers. “Your dad listens to the oldies station?” She swiveled in the seat so she could see Mike.

  “Not usually.” He leaned up between the front bucket seats and tapped the CD eject button.

  The drawer opened and she glanced at the CD. Tony Bennett. She choked back a giggle but the sound escaped through her nose as a soft snort. Her hand flew to her mouth and nose to cover them as her eyes sought out Mike’s. He grinned at her. “My sentiments exactly.” He closed the CD drawer and leaned back against his seat.

  “Do you ever listen to a song’s lyrics and find meaning in them?” She grinned ruefully. “Or is that a girl thing?” Mike arched a brow and blinked a couple of times but didn’t say anything. “Okay. I guess it’s a girl thing we did back in school. That whole ‘our song’ fad and finding deep meanings in the timing of a song playing on the radio and the words. Pretty silly, I guess.”

  “Yeah, you girls were sort of sentimental back in the day.”

  “I couldn’t help but notice that your dad’s nicknames don’t sit well. I bet it gets confusing. And…” She grinned at him as she gave him the once over. “Well, honestly? There is nothing little about you so Little Mike is definitely a misnomer.” Encouraged by his answering chuckle, she continued. “Does anyone ever call you Michael?” His face softened and his eyes looked sad.

  “Not in a long time. My mom called me that.”

  His mom? She felt terrible now. Mrs. Doogan died when they were in junior high from some terrible disease. She wracked her brain trying to remember. Cancer, most likely. Yes, cancer. Breast cancer. His next words surprised the heck out of her.

  “But if you’d like to call me Michael…”

  Kelly gulped and nodded. “I would, yes, if you’re sure it’s okay?” She scrambled for something to say, some inane commentary to fill the awkward silence. “So.” She stretched the word out a full breath. “What did you do after high school? I feel like I should know but…” Her one-shouldered shrug was far more telling than she realized.

  “I went to a junior college on a football scholarship, but didn’t get an offer to a four-year school so I joined the Army. Got married. Fought in Gulf One. Got divorced. Came home to help Big Mike with the pub. You?”

  The ball was squarely back in her court. “College. At Columbia. I married Geoff. And… Well…” What did she say now? She gazed out the driver’s side window lost in thought.

  A warm hand on her shoulder jerked her back to the present. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Look, that was stupid of me. I’m not sure what all is going on but I can tell things have been tough for you. I just…” He leaned a bit closer around the seat and covered one of her hands with his big, warm one. “If you need a friend, I’m here. Okay?”

  Boy, if he only knew. Before she realized what was happening, her eyes filled with tears and a big, fat one slid down her cheek. She had no chance to wipe it away. In seconds, her seat belt was removed, two strong arms circled her, and she was pulled into the back seat. Between one breath and the next, she now sat across Mike’s lap, her head buried on his shoulder and she sobbed like a teen-age girl suffering her first heartbreak.

  “Shhhh.” Mike’s voice rumbled somewhere above her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  The driver’s door opened and she caught a muffled expletive but she was too embarrassed to look up. The vehicle rocked as Big Mike settled into his seat.

  “Poor little thing,” he murmured.

  She heard cloth rustling and the seat creaked. Had Big Mike turned around to stare at her, too? Mortified, she tried to get her sobs under control by taking deep breaths. Unfortunately, the maneuver backfired and she ended up with hiccups.

  “You better not have said anything mean to her.”

  Kelly giggled around the next hiccup, but enjoyed the feel of Mike’s hand rubbing up and down her back.

  “I just said that if she needed a friend—”

  “Of course she needs a friend, Michael! Dammit, haven’t you paid any attention lately?”

  So…Mike’s mom wasn’t the only one who called him Michael, though she definitely got the impression his dad only used his full name to make a point while his mother likely used it with affection. She continued to hide behind closed eyes as Big Mike explained her situation to his son—in very blunt but true terms.

  “And I’ll just lay odds that her folks haven’t done a damn thing to help her out of this mess. Couldn’t even drive to the station in Rochester to pick her up.”

  She heard the anger in Big Mike’s voice and a part of her felt the need to defend her parents. The feeling passed quickly, though, as Michael’s arms tightened around her. “Do you have a place to stay?”

  The steady thump of Michael’s heart—Michael, she said it again in her mind and liked the sound of it—beneath her cheek comforted her. She nodded and wet her lips with her tongue before speaking. “There’s a small apartment over the garage at my parents’ house. They said I could stay there in the short term.” At Big Mike’s snort, she sat up and pushed her hair behind her ears. “This is hard for them, too, Mr. Doogan.”

  “Hard for them?” Big Mike growled. “I just bet. Honey, you need a place to stay, you let us know. I have a spare room at the house and I bet Little Mike wouldn’t mind you staying in his guest room, either. Right?”

  His eyes glanced up at the rearview and she imagined they met Michael’s over the top of her head. “That’s what I was going to offer, Dad.”

  “Do you have a job, honey?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet, Mr. Doogan. I have a few copies of my resume left. I’ll start looking tomorrow. I…need to stand on my own two feet.”

  “Good for you. I figure you’re a bit too educated for us, but just in case, we can always use another waitress at the pub. And hon? Call me Big Mike. Mister Doogan is far too fancy for this old Irishman.”

  She felt Michael wince and wondered why.

  “Dad, I’m sure Kelly will find something that will pay her what she’s worth. And soon.”

  She certainly hoped so! She’d arranged with the court to put a minimum of twenty-five
percent of any salary she made into the trust fund set up to repay Geoff’s victims. She’d promised.

  Chapter Two

  Kelly insisted Michael drop her off at the foot of the driveway to her parents’ house. Through the open wrought iron gate she saw the gables of the second story over the tall hedges, planted to keep the “everyday people” from catching a glimpse of the fabled lifestyle behind the branches. Her parents were such snobs. There. She’d said it. Sniffing the air, she grinned. No ozone. God wasn’t going to zap her for stating the obvious. The autumn dusk cloaked the drive in shadows.

  True to his word, Big Mike had stopped first at Doogan’s Pub and plied her with fresh fried fish and chips doused in malt vinegar and a pint of Guinness. She blushed now, thinking about how she’d scarfed both food and drink like a starving person because, technically, she’d not eaten in almost twenty-four hours. So, after some plying from Big Mike, she took a stool at the end of the bar and listened to the Doogan men tease each other and their customers. Only after the shadows lengthened outside did she find the nerve to ask Michael to drive her home.

  Home. She fought the tears welling in her eyes. That was a misnomer. She didn’t have a home. Not really. And certainly not here. Her father made that abundantly clear the last time they’d spoken—if one could call it speaking using his secretary as a go-between to deliver his messages.

  She trudged up the sloping drive, head down and dreading the coming confrontation with her parents.

  “You better stop right there! This is private property.”

  Kelly looked up at the strange voice. “Excuse me? I live here.”

  “Says who?”

  She hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder and raised her chin. “I’m Kelly Kincaid. Kelly Burke Kincaid. Who are you?” As the man stormed toward her, she almost backed up a few steps but took a deep breath and stood her ground.

  “I work for Mr. and Mrs. Burke. They didn’t mention you coming. You got ID?”

  Her mouth gaped open but she closed it with a snap and squared her shoulders. In her very best society matron voice, she said, “ID? Who are you to ask me for ID?” She brushed past the man and marched up the driveway to the back door. The man jogged up behind her, panting. He grabbed her arm and she turned to stare at him. “Get. Your. Hand. Off. Me.” She opened the door and yelled, “Mother!”

  Elizabeth Burke bustled into the mud room and stared at the tableau in the door. “Kelly? What are you doing here?”

  Kelly jerked her arm free and glared at the man who had accosted her. “Who is this, Mother?”

  Flustered, her mother’s hands fluttered over her Gucci-clad breast. “Oscar. That’s Oscar. Your father hired him.” Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head, obviously perplexed. “You haven’t answered my question, Kelly. Why are you here?”

  Kelly bit her lip to keep from crying. No wonder no one met her at the station in Rochester. “I’ve come home to stay, Mother. In the garage apartment, since Father said my former room is now a media room.”

  “I…garage? Your father hasn’t said a word of this to me since our last discussion. He told me you were staying in New York. Oscar is supposed to move into that apartment. Your father thinks we need round-the-clock security. There have been…threats.” Elizabeth whispered the last word and looked shocked to even be thinking it.

  Her lip curled in a sneer. “Because of me? Fine. Heaven forbid I be a burden to my parents.” She turned on her heel and ran smack dab into Oscar. “Get the hell out of my way.”

  “Kelly, wait.”

  The plaintive tone in her mother’s voice stopped her but she didn’t turn around. “Come back inside, at least until your father gets home. I’m sure he’ll straighten this out.”

  And there it was. The whole crux of her problem. Wait until your father gets home—he’ll straighten this out. She’d fallen into her mother’s trap. For all the years she’d been married to Geoff, she left the decisions up to him. Where to live. Where to vacation. What to drive. Even her choices in designer labels on her clothes had been influenced by her ex.

  “Go away, Oscar.” The so-called security guard simply glared at her. “Fine.”

  She turned back to her mother, stepped across the threshold, and closed the door in the man’s face. Then she twisted the lock as he reached for the door handle. Giving in to the childish urge, she stuck her tongue out at the door before walking deeper into her parent’s house.

  “He’s creepy, Mother.”

  “Why are you here, Kelly?”

  “Where else was I supposed to go? I’m homeless, in case you haven’t figured that out. The court took the apartment, the Hampton’s house, my clothes.” She held up her hands and wiggled her fingers. “I gave them my wedding rings but they took the rest, too. I have the clothes on my back and what’s in this.” She shrugged off the backpack and held it up. She couldn’t hide the anger as she continued. “I spent the night at Penn Station, Mother. I didn’t have the money for a hotel room. I wouldn’t have eaten today except Michael Doogan was on the train with me. He and his dad gave me a ride and they fed me at the pub before bringing me here.”

  “You make this sound like it’s my fault. I certainly didn’t tell you to spend your entire trust fund on those people.”

  Kelly wanted to scream but took several long breaths instead and forced her hands to relax from the fists formed at her mother’s words. “Geoff stole from those people, Mother. He stole from me. And rather than stay and face the consequences, he ran off to Brazil where he’s probably drinking on the beach and fucking whatever bikini that walks by.”

  “Kelly! I will not have that kind of language in my house.”

  “Fine. I’ll leave. I’m sure the Salvation Army shelter will put me up.”

  “The homeless shelter? Surely you aren’t serious, Kelly.”

  She dug into her jeans pocket and pulled out the two crumpled dollar bills and a pitiful bit of change. She made a show of counting it out. “Two dollars and fifty-eight cents. I don’t see the Summerville Inn offering rates that low.”

  Though tears filled her mother’s eyes, she didn’t flinch from them, not like she would have even a few months ago. Tears. Her mother’s ultimate weapon.

  “Father and I had this conversation already. Actually, the ever-faithful Miranda and I had this conversation. Father couldn’t be arsed to speak directly to me. Trust me, Mother. I wouldn’t be here if I had any place else to go. I tried to find a job in New York but any association with Geoff became a kiss of death. I had no funds to go any place so I had to come here. I planned to stay in the garage apartment until I could get a job and move out into a place of my own. Heaven forbid that Elizabeth and David Burke’s daughter might get her hands dirty.” She paused to get her emotions under control and noticed her mother’s eyes were now dry. “When did Father hire Oscar the cretin?”

  “Two days ago.”

  “Figures. The day I finalized my travel plans with Miranda and asked to have someone meet me at the station.”

  Elizabeth looked shocked and for once, Kelly thought her mother wasn’t faking it. “I…I had no idea you were coming home, Kelly. Why didn’t you call me?”‘

  She rolled her eyes, and didn’t care that her mother saw it. “I did. Numerous times. Do you ever check your answering machine?” A guilty look flittered across Elizabeth’s face. “You just erased them, didn’t you? Without even listening.” She laughed, the sound dry and brittle to her own ears. “Thanks for caring, Mom.”

  The back door rattled and then a fist pounded on the wood. “Let me in!”

  “It’s your father. Let him in.”

  She resisted the urge to “oh, d’uh” her mother and shuffled back down the hall to unlock the door and open it. “What? You forgot your keys?”

  “Don’t get smart with me, young lady.”

  “Yeah, it’s nice to see you, too, Father.” They played the staring game and he blinked first. “May I have the keys to the apartment? Or do you re
ally plan on moving Oscar into it?”

  Without a word, he jerked a set of keys from the rack tacked to the wall next to the door and held them up. She hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder, squeezed past him, and snagged the keys as she did. “I won’t stay long. Just ’til I get a job. Then I’ll move out and you won’t have to deal with me anymore.”

  She heard him clear his throat and she paused.

  “Are you keeping your married name?”

  What the…? She whirled. “Will I embarrass you if I use my maiden name? Heaven forbid that David Burke’s daughter might actually have to work for a living.”

  She clutched the keys so tightly the metal bit into her palm. If she wasn’t desperate for a place to sleep, she would have thrown them at him. Despite her brave words earlier, she really couldn’t face spending the night, much less an extended period in the homeless shelter.

  Oscar skulked in the shadows of the drive. He jumped up from behind her father’s Lincoln and her breath caught in her chest, squeezing off the scream forming in her throat. She had to clear her throat before she could command, “Get lost.”

  “I don’t have to. Mr. Burke hired me and promised me that apartment. I was moving in tomorrow.” His eyes narrowed and Kelly decided he looked like a ferret, only not nearly as cute. “Tell you what, girlie. We can share it.”

  She could only hope the darkness disguised the shudder that shook her from head to toe. “Ewww. I don’t think so. This is my house, buddy. Take a hike.”

  “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily, girlie. You better watch your back.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Call it what you like, but I’m in charge here.”

  She laughed. And it felt good, even though the laughter threatened to edge over into hysterics. “In charge? You know nothing about my father, do you. That was a statement, Oscar, not a question. Nobody but my father is in charge, and you’d better get that figured out real quick. David Burke controls everything around him. People. Places. Things. Period. Now get out of my way.”