Hometown Star (8 page)

Brad set the box down. “Yeah. What about all the stuff in the other room?”

“You mean the paintings?” Star picked up the roll of packing tape.

“Yeah.” Brad tossed his head to get his hair out of his eyes. He needed a haircut, but she wasn’t going to tell him. That was Cade’s job.

“I want to go through them,” she said.

“What if there’s one I want?” Brad’s eyes met hers. He was ready to do battle, everything from the stubborn set of his jaw to the way he held his body said so.

“Is there one you want, Brad?”

He nodded.

“Okay, come on.” Star passed him, going to the spare bedroom. The room was stuffed with easels and canvases, large and small. Patsy’s paints and brushes were stacked helter–skelter on a cheap six foot folding table, pushed up against the far wall.

“Which one?” Star asked, not sure where even to start digging.

Brad cut a path through the chaos, walking directly to a group of paintings leaning against the wall, under the window. He flipped several canvases forward before removing one of the larger paintings.

Star went to him. “What did you choose?” She took the canvas from him. A woman’s face stared back at her, a beautiful face with clear green eyes, a straight nose, and a mouth with full lips. Her hair was auburn, the same shade as Emma’s.

“Your mother,” Star said.

Brad nodded.

“She was beautiful.”

Brad stared at the portrait, then reached out to touch his mother’s face. “Yeah.”

Star’s heart went out to him. “Of course you may have it. I’m surprised Patsy didn’t already give them to you. Are there others here?”

Brad nodded.

“Take them, please,” Star said.

He nodded again.

Star reached out and gave his arm a comforting squeeze. He didn’t acknowledge the gesture and she hadn’t expected him to.

Curious about Patsy’s other paintings, Star began to flip through them. There were several landscapes, depicting everything from downtown Seward, to Resurrection Bay, to Patsy’s own yard. Star set aside a particularly stirring painting of Resurrection Bay, the sky gray, the water even grayer. Snow lined the pier, softened the businesses nestled nearby. She’d managed to capture the bay in winter, right down to the lonely gulls. The landscapes were raw and powerful, but the portraits stirred something in Star’s soul.

Star recognized all of Patsy’s subjects. There were several of Star, Tawney, Ruby Sue, and Brandi. There was even a wedding portrait of Brandi and Bud, which Star would make certain her sister received. There was one of Emma alone, and one with Emma, Finn, and Brad.

“This is why you come here, you and Finn and Em,” Star said. “You come to see the paintings, don’t you?” Her heart ached for the kids.

Brad nodded.

“Does your dad know?”

“I guess.” Brad shrugged. “I asked if we could have them, and he said that they belonged to Patsy’s estate.”

“Well as the executor of Patsy’s will, I’m giving them to your family. Take them all.”

Brad gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Star.” Brad held up a painting.

It was a portrait of Cade’s father, Dan O’Brien. He’d been a handsome man, big and rugged and blustery. He’d died about a year before Patsy. Cancer. She remembered that much from Patsy’s phone calls. “That’s your grandpa.”

“I know.”

“Take it, too,” Star said, certain Cade would want it.

“Dad won’t want it,” Brad said.

“Why not?” she asked, looking at Brad.

“Because of Patsy.” Brad set the painting down.

“What do you mean?” Star asked, not understanding. “I think Cade would love it. It’s good.”

Brad shook his head. “Grandpa and Patsy were, you know, doing it.”

“Doing what?” She stared at Brad, hoping she misunderstood.

“
It
.”

Did he mean sex? No. No way. She thought back. No, she’d never seen Patsy with Cade’s father, not in any kind of romantic way. Patsy had worked for Dan O’Brien. She hadn’t slept over, and he’d never stayed over with Patsy. Not once.

“Are you saying your grandpa and Patsy were dating?” she asked.

“I guess. I used to hear Dad and Uncle Ron arguing about it. Dad wanted to kick Patsy off our land after Grandpa died, but Uncle Ron wouldn’t let him. He said that Grandpa made it clear that Patsy could live here as long as she wanted. Dad called Patsy a tramp.”

Star bristled. “A tramp? Patsy wasn’t a tramp. She was the most generous, loving person I’ve ever met.” She struggled to process everything Brad had told her. “If she was friends with your grandpa, that was a choice they both made. Maybe they loved each other.”

Brad shrugged. “Whatever. But I don’t think Dad will want the painting.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Star said. “I’ll talk to him.”

She’d talk to him all right and not just about the painting. She wanted him to take back his slanderous remark about Patsy. Dating a man didn’t make a woman a tramp. What kind of caveman–type thinking was that? Thank goodness she’d made it clear their kiss was a one time lapse in judgment.

Brad tucked several canvases of his mother and siblings under his arms. “It’s your funeral.”

He left the room, leaving Star alone with a room filled with the people and places that had filled Patsy’s life. Feeling a little haunted by her aunt, Star followed Brad out.

“Come on, Brad,” she said. “I think you’ve done enough today. Put your paintings in the car and I’ll give you a lift home.”

The guests were gone.

Cade had a rare moment, a moment with no clients, no kids, no pressing work. He slung himself into the hammock positioned between the hemlock trees in the back yard, letting the canvas cradle his body. He released a contented sigh as the sun seeped into his bones. Around him, the air was still. The twins had gone into town with Trudy and Ron. Brad was over at Star’s place.

He was alone.

Blissfully alone.

Cade closed his eyes. The buzz of a lone bee filled the silence and he concentrated on the hum. Man, this was living.

He tried to focus, to keep his mind blank, but Star seeped into the peace like he knew she would, like she had since returning to Alaska. Star, his guilty pleasure. Her mouth. Her legs. That body. Cade imagined every inch of her, first with clothes on, then with her clothes off.

In his imagination she was beautiful. The perfect woman.

He could still taste the sweetness of her mouth; feel her lush curves pressed against him. He wanted her. Bad. So badly his body coiled tight with need for her to the point of physical pain. Then he remembered her rejection, but even that didn’t cool his raging hormones. He hadn’t expected her to trust him so quickly, to give in so easily. But a guy could wish. Never mind she didn’t want kids. What did it matter? She wouldn’t be sticking around anyway.

The whir of a car’s engine broke through his thoughts. Cade groaned. He’d only been in the hammock for five minutes. He’d hoped for more alone time.

The engine cut. Two car doors opened then closed.

The front door of the house smacked shut.

And still he didn’t move. How long before they discovered him?

“Cade?” Star called.

His eyes jerked open.

She was here—his fantasy.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” she asked.

Was it his imagination or was her tone a little frosty? He could see her now. A white T–shirt clung to her breasts. Her long legs were poured into form fitting jeans. She wore the yellow flip flops again, and he remembered how pretty her toes looked, topped with pink nail polish.

His body went on red alert.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked.

“Sure.” Cade sat up, when he really wanted to invite her to climb into the hammock with him. Although, he was pretty sure she’d decline the invitation.

“I need to ask you something.”

Cade rolled out of the hammock and onto his feet. “Okay.” The serious look on her face cooled his libido. “Is it Brad? Did he do something?”

“No. He’s great. He’s inside.”

Cade motioned for Star to follow him to the two lawn chairs parked in the shade of the hemlocks. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said a bit too quickly. “When Brad and I were cleaning out Patsy’s place we found a bunch of her paintings. There are several of your late wife and your children. Brad asked if he could have them and I said yes. I hope that’s okay.”

“I knew about the paintings,” Cade said. “I came home early once, and caught her painting Marissa and the kids.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me for them?” Her forehead wrinkled.

“I don’t need anything from Patsy Cooper.” The words popped out of his mouth before he could call them back. He prayed Star wouldn’t notice the malice that spewed out with them.

“That’s a weird thing to say.”

Cade glanced away from her, from the questions he could see in her eyes.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “There’s a painting of your dad. When I told Brad to take it, he said you wouldn’t want it. Why?”

His feelings for Patsy were twisted and complicated, many of them leftovers from a childhood filled with sorrow and grief.

“Were they lovers?” Star asked. “Your dad and Patsy?”

“I guess you could say that.” Cade sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you, Star. It’s all in the past now, remember? Why rehash it?”

“Brad said you called Patsy a tramp. Explain that to me, O’Brien.”

He could hear the hurt in her voice, see the pain on her face. He was back to square one with her. Damn. “Brad needs to keep his mouth shut.” Cade’s hands curled into fists. “After my mom died, my dad became friendly with Patsy.”

“That doesn’t make her a tramp,” Star said defensively. “They were adults. Adults have relationships.”

Cade exhaled. “I had a hard time when my mom died. My dad took her death hard. He pulled away from us. I was twelve years old. I needed him and I didn’t understand why he wasn’t available to me. One day when he left the house, I followed him. I caught my dad with Patsy at her place. After that, the rest of my world fell apart. My dad spent all his time with her; at least it seemed that way to me. I needed him. Ron needed him. He only needed Patsy.”

“I never saw your dad with Patsy,” Star said.

“He didn’t go over there when Patsy had you and your sisters, but believe me they still snuck around.”

Star shook her head. “You hated Patsy, didn’t you? You hated her for stealing a piece of your dad.”

“Pretty much.” He was in so deep now, it didn’t matter if he told her everything. “I didn’t understand. I thought she was taking my dad away from me. And later, when I learned he was letting her live on our land, in our mobile home, rent free in exchange for her services—well, let’s just say I had a hard time getting past that.”

“Her services?” Star said, the words bitter, angry. She stood. “She worked for your family after your mother died. Come to this century, O’Brien. So what if she was living there rent free? So what if they didn’t get married? We can’t begin to guess the dynamics of their relationship. Maybe
you
are the reason they didn’t marry. No one knows better than me how angry you were.” Star’s eyes widened. “I get it now. The harassment, it wasn’t about me at all. You couldn’t strike out at your dad or Patsy, so you took your anger out on me. Everything’s so clear now.”

Cade stood so he could look into Star’s eyes. Shame washed over him. “Every time I looked at you, or your mother or sisters, I got angry. Your sisters were too young for me to bother with, but not you. You were a walking, talking reminder of the woman my dad was sleeping with. The more I picked on you, the more you looked at me like I was nothing, like you were better than I was. I had so much anger and no way to channel it. I wanted you to leave. All of you. Especially Patsy. I know I was wrong. I don’t even have any defense. I was a screwed up kid, but Star, I’m not that kid anymore. You have to know how sorry I am.”

“You keep saying that, yet, you’re still angry with Patsy—a dead woman,” Star said sadly. “I can hear the anger in your words, see it on your face. You haven’t let the anger go. It’s still inside you and no apology to me is going to make it go away.”

“Star—”

“Stop talking. I don’t want to hear any more.” Star pivoted and walked away, her back ramrod stiff. She didn’t say goodbye, not even to Brad who watched them from the back door.

“Way to go, Dad,” Brad said after Star disappeared around the corner of the house. Brad went back inside, letting the door bang shut behind him.

Cade sucked in air. He wished he could just let Star go, but he couldn’t. He’d brought her here. Now he’d hurt her again by venting his feelings. When would he ever learn? How would he make her understand that the past didn’t matter? He understood his dad’s feelings for Patsy. He had the same feelings for Star.

For the first time, he understood wanting someone so much.

He wanted to smooth things over with Star. For years his behavior toward Star had burned a hole in his gut. And he knew why.

He’d fallen for her then, and he’d hated himself for wanting her in the exact same way his dad had wanted Patsy.

* * *

After her conversation with Cade, Star drove to town, needing a distraction. She drove straight to the Internet café and powered up her laptop, finding an email from Frank telling Star to check the local thrift stores for an old two–man saw Vivienne wanted for an art project.

She was on her way to the local thrift store when her phone rang.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Star,” Destiny said.

Star shifted the phone to her other ear. “What’s up?”

“I’ve decided to come for a visit if your offer to pick up the plane ticket still stands.”

“Really?” Surprise shot through Star, followed by a hefty dose of Why? “What made you change your mind?”

“Can’t a grandma want to see her grandbaby?” Destiny asked in a put–out tone.

“Sure, Mom, but you’re hardly grandma material.”

“Don’t I know it,” Destiny said in a sarcastic tone. “How soon can you book the flight?”

Was it her imagination or did her mother seem in an awfully big hurry to get out of Vegas?