Broken Toys Read online

  With a flourish, he pulled two roses from behind his back. The entwined flowers, one red and one white, were meant to be a symbol of unity, his very own unspoken proposal. At least, that’s what the florist said.

  He thought of the small blue box tucked securely in his pocket. Now? He slid the delicate petals of the blooms down Cat’s nose and across her lips—lips that parted ever so slightly—in a soft caress. “Much better now, anamchara, much better.” A tender smile lit his eyes from within. He whispered, “What would I do without you?”

  “Anamchara? What does that mean?”

  “I’m almost positive it means ‘soul mate.’ It’s what my dad used to call my mom, you know, before—well, when they still liked each other.”

  “You never talk about your parents. Why not?”

  Damn it, why did I use that word?

  Mood broken, he handed her the roses and stepped away. He stared down at his empty hands. Melancholy seeped into his bones. Shaking it off, he forced a bright note into his voice. “And how was your day at work? Other than saving the life of your favorite man?”

  “How did you know about that?” Cat teased. She stretched up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss against Noah’s still-swollen cheek. “Poor baby.”

  With a graceful turn, she headed back to the dining table and added the roses to the brightly colored springtime arrangement already sitting between the candlesticks.

  “That’s right.” Noah followed her. “Poor baby, indeed, and don’t you forget it,” he said as he nuzzled the back of her neck.

  With a giggle, she thrust him aside.

  He swept Cat off her feet and into his arms. “Push me away, will you? What happened to ‘poor baby’?”

  She whooped and wriggled, trying to get down.

  He adjusted his grip, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of rice, and headed for the French doors on the back of the house. With her tucked in his arms, he slipped out of the house.

  “Put me down, you big oaf. Where do you think you’re taking me?”

  “Shh,” he said, tightening his grip. He carried her through the gate into the neighbor’s yard. Sticking to the shadows, he made his way over to the older couple’s trampoline.

  “What are we doing here?”

  Noah gave her butt a light swat. “Hush.” Inside the house, the neighbor’s yappy kick-dog barked up a storm. He watched the heavily curtained windows. No light shone through. No one, other than the dog, moved. “The Burtons must not be wearing their hearing aids tonight,” he said. With a slight oomph, he tossed Cat onto the trampoline before climbing on himself. He tugged her onto her back beside him, staring up at the Milky Way.

  “We really need to get one of these,” he said. He rolled onto his side and rested on one elbow, gazing down at Cat. He rocked forward and placed a kiss smack dab in the middle of her forehead. “I…” He kissed her on the chin. “…love…” He dropped a kiss on the tip of her upturned nose. “…you.” He wrapped his arms around her and tugged her close. Mine, he thought as he kissed her lips passionately. Reluctantly, he drew away.

  She placed two fingers on her slightly swollen lips. “What was that for?”

  His eyes met hers. He smiled and gently brushed her hair from her eyes. “You just glow.”

  “What are we doing in the Burtons’ backyard in the middle of the night?”

  “I think the more pertinent question, young lady, is why do George and Martha have a trampoline, and we don’t? Aren’t they like ninety or something?”

  A laugh burst from Cat’s lips. She shot a guilty glance at the back of the neighbors’ house. Swatting him on the arm, she said, “You goofball. George is eighty-three, and Martha is only sixty-eight. The trampoline is for when their grandkids come to visit, which they do frequently. You might know that if you ever got home before ten or eleven at night.”

  “So George has himself a young hottie, huh? Ooof.” Noah rubbed his stomach where Cat had just planted her elbow. “What was that for?”

  “Smarty-pants. Look,” she said, pointing up, “a shooting star.”

  They watched the stars painting the purple sky. “Aquarids meteor shower is supposed to peak tonight. I thought it might be nice to watch out here with you.” He thought about the ring in his pocket. A secret smile slid across his face.

  Should I propose? Surrounded by shooting stars? That’s romantic, right?

  “Okay, what are you up to? You’ve got that cat-ate-the-canary grin on your face.”

  “Um…nothing?” He waved the question away. “So tell me, how was your day at work?”

  She scooted over and placed her head on his shoulder. “Pretty exciting, actually. I thought we were going to deliver a baby in the back of the ambulance. Mom-to-be’s water broke as we were loading her into the box. Jim, the yellow-bellied wuss, took one look at her and decided it was his turn to drive even though it wasn’t.” She giggled. “I wish you could have seen the expression on his face when she had a contraction, grabbed onto his hand and squeezed before he could escape to the front of the box. No one makes bed sheets that white.”

  “Why was she grabbing Jim? Where was the dad?”

  “On his way. Probably driving over a hundred miles an hour. Baby’s premature. Dad’s an oilfield guy smack dab in the middle of his two-week hitch. He was still out at the rig in Oklahoma. Thought he had at least another week before the little one made an appearance. At least he wasn’t stuck on a rig in Montana or Wyoming.”

  “Well, did she have a girl or a boy?”

  “I don’t know. We got her to the hospital in time. They whisked her straight on up to obstetrics.” A soft smile lit Cat up from the inside. Her left hand skimmed lightly over her abdomen. She turned her head, meeting Noah’s eyes, and shrugged. “I’ll pop in tomorrow and check on her if they’ll let me. Dang HIPAA takes all the fun out of my job these days. Then, on the way back to the ambulance, I stopped in the emergency room to drag Jim away from his flavor of the month—the new nurse he’s always flirting with—and there was the cutest little girl about three years old. Big green eyes, long brown hair, just gorgeous. Jim’s nurse friend was trying to pry a plastic bead out of the child’s ear.”

  “Why did she have a plastic bead in her ear?”

  “That’s what I asked. Get a load of this. She wanted to wear earrings just like her mommy. How adorable is that? The things kids come up with.”

  Noah swept Cat over the top of him. He sat up with her cuddled in his lap. “At all ages, apparently.” He took a moment to tell her about Alyssa Sanders’s faking a visit with her deadbeat father to hang out with a boy. He left out the part of the story ending with her unfortunate demise.

  Darkness clouded his thoughts as he pictured the bits and pieces recovered from the driveway. The pain Alyssa’s family experienced crashed down on him. He increased his grasp on Cat, holding her that much tighter and pressed his lips to her shoulder.

  She tilted her head to one side. “Hey, where’d you go just then?”

  He wrapped his hands in her cinnamon-coffee hair and deepened the kiss. He lost himself in her embrace.

  She broke the kiss with a sigh. She ran her fingers through his hair, brushing the shaggy edges out of his eyes. Sensing his need for comfort, she snuggled deeper into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder. She caressed the back of his neck.

  Noah held her even tighter, trying to drive away the gloom. At the same time she began to speak, he spoke over her. “I am so glad we are not having kids.”

  Cat stilled. She patted his shoulder stiffly and scrambled off the trampoline. Quickly, she turned her face away from him and headed back to her kitchen.

  Noah grabbed her hand. He turned her back to face him. Puzzled, he asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No.” She forced a smile as she tugged her hand from his grip. “I just don’t want dinner to burn.”

  His eyes searched hers. “Sweetie, are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

  “Nope,” she rep
lied. “Not a thing.”

  He tilted his head and examined her from head to toe. “You’re sure?”

  “Everything’s peachy keen. Fine as frog hair. Okay?” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “Are you hungry?”

  He hesitated. “You’re sure, absolutely positive everything is okay? You know I love you, right?”

  Lips pressed closed, she nodded and turned away.

  Noah smiled. “Well, in that case, I’m starving. It’s been a really long day.”

  ****

  “Goodnight, Dad,” Bree said as she slipped into her bedroom.

  “You sure you don’t want to watch a movie with the rest of us?” Rhyden asked.

  Bree faked a yawn. “No, Dad, I’m exhausted. Plus, I’ve got a calculus final in the morning.”

  “Finals? On a Saturday?”

  Shit. I forgot tomorrow was Saturday. Thinking fast, she said, “Yeah, we have to take them on a Saturday because someone, I won’t mention any names but she lives in this house, is younger than me, and isn’t Maddie, shut the high school down for three days with her stupid little chemistry prank, and now the rest of us have to suffer by going to school on a Saturday.”

  “I guess those are the breaks, huh? Okay, then. Sleep tight.”

  Bree shut the door to her room and turned the lock on the knob. Finally! Moving quickly, she plumped her pillows and stuffed them into her favorite nightshirt. She tucked them beneath the quilt, leaving just the tail end of the bright red nightshirt visible beneath the edge of the coverings.

  One last glance in the mirror and Bree was ready to go. She tugged the safety dowels from the window frame and flipped the locks on the window open. As she raised the glass, a horrible squeak split the air.

  Oh shit. She dove to the floor between the wall and the bed. She lay still, holding her breath for what felt like forever, listening. She raised her head above the edge of the bed and squinted through the darkness toward her bedroom door. No one else in the house appeared to have noticed the noise. Sighing, she rose to her feet, brushed off her outfit, and returned to the window.

  She slipped through the window and slowly, ever so slowly, eased it closed. She stood still in the shadows behind the house, waiting. Whew. No one heard me. Carefully, she tiptoed around the side of the house. Once clear, she darted down the road to the stop sign where Prince Charming waited for her. She opened the door of his muscle car and jumped in. Home free.

  “Drive,” she commanded. “Hurry, before we get caught.”

  Her boyfriend leaned across the console to steal a kiss. “Hey, gorgeous, great to see you, too.”

  “Come on, let’s go. Before my dad comes out.”

  He put the car in drive and drove to the playground about two miles from Bree’s house. After they parked, he walked around and opened the door for Bree. “My lady.” With a bow, he held out a hand to help her from the car.

  Bree giggled as she stepped out of the car and wrapped her arms around his neck. He winced and pulled away.

  “Are you okay?” Her boyfriend leaned down and placed a kiss on the tip of Bree’s nose. “I’m perfect now that you’ve forgiven me. Just a little sunburnt.”

  “How do you get a sunburn working in an office? Been playing hooky at the river ogling hot girls in bikinis?”

  “Um,” he hedged, “I—uh—I don’t exactly work in the office.”

  Bree’s face hardened. “More lies?”

  “No lies.” His words tripped over one another as he rushed to reassure her. “I was supposed to work in the office with my dad, but he fired me. You know what an ass he can be. This paving crew was short a couple of guys and needed help. So they hired me as a general laborer. It’s a temporary job. They’re only in this area for a few months, but it puts gas in the fuel tank and pays my insurance.”

  “Actually, I don’t know. I wonder why? Oh yeah, it might be because I’ve never met your dad. Or your mom either for that matter.”

  “Anyway, I’ve been spreading tar on driveways. It’s hard, hot work under the blistering sun. I got sunburned. No river, no bikinis, just work.”

  “Uh-huh.” Bree sauntered away, heading toward the swing sets, exaggerating the sway of her hips.

  He followed her. “No other girls for me. You are my one and only.”

  She stopped mid-stride at the tone of his voice. She turned to face him, stepping in close and resting her hands against his chest. Tilting her head, she gazed up at him. “You know, when you say it like that, I almost believe you…almost.”

  With a laugh, she whirled, and tossing a flirtatious wink over her shoulder, she said, “Race you to the swings.”

  ****

  Declan Gorman, head of the clan and grandfather to Seamus, bellowed from the back office. “Seamus, get in ’ere, laddie. Noo.”

  While Seamus’ speech sometimes held subtle hints of the old country, Grandda’s words drowned in the heavy brogue he’d grown up speaking, even after fifty-some-odd years in the “new” country.

  “Now what?” Seamus muttered under his breath as he rose from his desk and walked to his grandfather’s office.

  The old man hunched over stacks of leather-covered ledgers, his thick, white mane mussed from running his hands through it. Big hands—rugged and weather-beaten—clutched a number-two yellow pencil with a well-chewed pink eraser. The pencil all but disappearing in his grasp.

  “You needed me, sir?”

  “What the bloody hell is going on?” Declan gestured at the books scattered over the top of his desk. “Why are our expenses so high? How can we make a profit like this?”

  “Grandda, when are you going to let me introduce this company to the twenty-first century? Those ledger books are antiquated. You know they have these nifty plastic boxes called computers. They even have accounting software on them. You could retrieve all your reports with the touch of a button.”

  “Bah! And is that magic button going to lower our expenses? Who needs computers? I’ve been keeping my ledgers for years with no problems, and books don’t crash like computers.”

  “They don’t automatically generate balance sheets or profit-and-loss statements, either.”

  “Profit? What profit? You and that useless son of yours are running my company into the ground. When Ferrell was here, we had more work and got our supplies at better rates. And we damn sure didn’t pay temporary laborers thirty dollars an hour. Where is all my money going? Hmmm?”

  Careful to keep the old man from seeing them, Seamus held his clenched fists at his sides. Don’t you wish you knew? He silently counted to ten and thought about the secret bank accounts steadily growing in the Cayman Islands. “Thirty dollars an hour? We don’t pay anyone thirty dollars an hour.”

  He stepped over to the desk and picked up the nearest ledger. He flipped through a few pages before closing the book and examining the cover. “Grandda, these are the ‘official’ ledgers—for the vultures in the government. See the fleur-de-lis on the lower left-hand corner? We put it on the cover so we would know which set to give the IRS in case they decide to audit us. Remember? It was your idea.”

  Seamus stepped around behind his grandfather and unlocked the gunmetal gray filing cabinet in the corner. He tugged open the bottom drawer, emptied the contents, and lifted out the false bottom. Reaching into the far back corner of the file drawer, he came up with an almost identical set of ledger books. He handed these to Declan.

  “Harumph. Cursed government. I wish your cousin were here. He knew how to run a business.” Heavy emotion laced the old man’s speech, dragging the brogue to the forefront. “Damn pity we hud to bury th’ laddie at sich an early age. He wis a pure tough laddie.”

  Seamus ground his teeth. Here we go again. Perfect cousin Ferrell. He closed his eyes before his grandfather could register the hate in them. “Ferrell’s dead, Grandda. Just like his mother. He’s not coming back—ever.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  “I don’t know, Grandda. He wrecked that f
ancy, overpowered muscle car you bought him. He just had to have it, and you bought it for him. Then he totaled it. Remember?” I sure do. A faint smile flickered on Seamus’s face.

  Tapping the rear of the fancy sports car with the grill guard of my one-ton dually pickup; the smell of burning rubber as I mashed hard on the accelerator. The vibration of the over-revved engine reverberating against my foot as I forced my truck against the rear bumper of that candy-apple red coupe. The banshee shriek of metal grinding against metal, glass shattering, and the guardrail crumpling beneath the force of the fancy muscle car as it careened down the side of the bluff into the river far below. I remember jamming my brakes on hard to keep from following poor, precious Ferrell over the edge into oblivion. Too bad the river kept Ferrell’s car from exploding on impact. I would have enjoyed watching the fireball, maybe even roasting a weenie or two over the flames. It did eventually catch fire, though, didn’t it?

  “What are you grinning about, lad? Your cousin’s dead, and I’m left with you and that daft son of yours to take over my business and the family. We’re losing money hand over fist. You think that’s something to smile about?”

  Seamus schooled his features, hiding the glee he found in his memories. He shook off the past. He needed to transfer more money into the books so his grandfather wouldn't catch on to how much he'd been skimming.

  “What are you talking about losing money? We’re not losing money, and I’m not grinning.”

  “Ferrell would never have let the company lose money like this. And he damn sure wouldn’t let that whiny little shite hide in that dilapidated barn, doing who know what to those poor animals. Hunting’s one thing. Torturing animals is something else altogether.”

  If only animals were all he tortured, Seamus thought.