Out Of Place (Face the Music Book 2) (3 page)

“That doesn’t mean you have to tell the truth. Weddings are supposed to be happy and you are turning this into a morbid remembrance of what you lost.” Julie released her. “God. I can’t believe you still wear that. It’s embarrassing. It’s no wonder you can’t get a date for the wedding. Men see that and think you’re taken.”

“Well, at least you’re saving on a meal.” Olivia stripped off the sausage skin and left it on the floor. Maybe she could accidentally lose it. She slid her maxi dress on and shoved her feet into her sandals. She was done. She’d tried on the damn dress; she didn’t have to hang around.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Come on, we’re having lunch after this.”

Olivia stared at her sister. Julie didn’t want her at lunch, not really. And she didn’t want to be there.

“You did mean it like that.” Tears formed, but she refused to let Julie see them, so she blinked fast and hoped that her sister didn’t notice. How could Julie get under her skin so fast? “You don’t get to decide when I stop wearing my ring.”

If she took off her ring it would be like admitting Miles had never existed. Had never been a part of her life. It would mean that she was ready to move on.

“After what he did to you, I’m surprised you wear it at all.” Julie raised one eyebrow, as if she’d won the fight with pure logic.

For a moment it was as though Olivia was trapped in the sausage skin and couldn’t breathe. “At least I know how to care.”

But Julie didn’t hear, or if she did, she chose not to listen.

It had taken three goes to get her car started in the car park near the dress shop, and she’d bawled all the way home. For herself, for the life Miles had never got and for Ethan who’d never met his father. Then she cried in the driveway because she knew Julie was right. She couldn’t wear her engagement ring forever. How many times had she told people there’d be no wedding because her fiancé was dead?

Too many.

And each time her response was met with a mix of pity and horror. She didn’t want to be that person anymore.

Olivia turned up the air-conditioning and folded her arms over the steering wheel and placed her forehead on them. She drew in several deep breaths. Her mother would know she’d been crying. She probably wouldn’t ask why. The wedding wasn’t bringing out the best in either of her daughters.

Plenty of people had told her she shouldn’t be getting engaged or having a baby at eighteen. Surprisingly, no one had said that she wasn’t old enough to be widowed—was it widowed when they hadn’t been married? However plenty had frowned and said she was too young to be a single mother. What did they want? Young and married with a baby or young and single with a baby?

There was no winning.

She gave her face another pat and hoped the chill of the AC had reduced some of the redness. She’d been happy when Julie had announced her engagement, but as the wedding plans had started she’d been feeling more off kilter, the impending celebration dredging up thoughts and feelings she’d thought long buried.

Julie had accused her of being jealous, but she wasn’t. She didn’t want Julie’s life…okay maybe a little. It would be nice to have own place with her husband-to-be. But that had been taken and it wasn’t what she had. At least living with her parents she got some help with Ethan.

Those first few months she’d really needed it. It had taken a lot of physiotherapy to get her arm working as well as it did, but it was weaker. Loss of muscle due to infection, the doctors had said.

She’d kept her eye and defied them all. Ethan had also survived against the odds. He’d been a tiny baby, born eight weeks early. Not that she’d known at the time. She’d been in an induced coma for weeks. Her parents had thought they were going to lose her and their grandson.

Julie could take her ugly orange dresses and shove them into the sausages skins. She wasn’t going to participate if she wasn’t wanted, but as Olivia thought it she knew she’d never say that because it would gut her parents. Even her brother Rhys was flying back from Europe to take part.

So she’d smile and act like she was happy.

She was happy.

Most of the time.

The wedding was going to kill her.

So was sitting in the car waiting for a miracle. Her mother would be wondering what she was doing. She turned the car off and got out, missing the AC already. While there was a lot wrong with her car, at least that worked. The front door opened and Ethan ran out, her mother right behind him. Her mother stopped once she was happy that he was making straight for his mother and not for the road.

Olivia bent down and hugged him. A smile formed as he kissed her. Julie could keep her fancy wedding. “Hey cutie. Did you have fun with Gran?”

“We had ice-cream.”

“Did you save me some?”

He shook his head. She went to stand but he wrapped his arms around her neck, wanting to be carried.

“Other side, hon.” She hated having to remind him. How much longer until she couldn’t lift him at all? “One, two, three.”

She braced and lifted him. He was getting too heavy for her. Her mother shook her head as she watched, no doubt thinking the same thing. Olivia hugged him tighter. It wouldn’t be long until he wouldn’t want to be picked up. She walked towards the house, the sun reflecting off the concrete driveway and making her eyes water. She should’ve left her sunnies on. Her hip clipped the letterbox and she bit her lip to keep from crying out as pain radiated through her bones.

Damn it.
She should’ve seen that, but it was in her rather large blind spot. She had to turn her head to take in what most people saw peripherally. That was the price of keeping her eye.

She made it to the front door with only a slight hobble. Her mother took Ethan and Olivia rubbed her hip. It didn’t take away the pain, but it was better than suffering and doing nothing. The bruise would be epic.

“Put some ice on it.”

“I will. It’s not like the letterbox has moved. I know it’s there.” It was the kind of dumb thing that had happened in the first year as she’d gotten used to the changes in her body.

“You were distracted. Ice.” Her mother ordered her into the house and put Ethan down.

As soon as the front door was shut Ethan raced to the freezer. “Ice?”

Olivia handed him an ice cube and got herself the icepack. He happily crunched the ice up, water dribbling down his chin. She smiled. He smiled back and that did more than any icepack. She sat down, positioned the icepack and let him climb onto her lap.

Sometimes he looked just like Miles. All blond hair and smiles.

It broke her heart all over again, but no more tears fell. There were no more. How many times had she thought that only to discover another well?

“How was the fitting?” Her mother boiled the kettle and started making two cups of coffee. Caffeine was probably the last thing she needed right now.

“Like getting trussed up and then examined. I didn’t get the best in show ribbon.” That was an understatement. Although, with any luck, Julie would declare her unfit for duty and she could escape the wedding party, if not the wedding.

“Julie has always been highly strung.” Her mum placed two cups of coffee on the table. “She likes to be the star.”

No kidding.

Julie was also the eldest and most successful child. She was the good child of the family. The smartest and the one who had her life together. Rhys was odd-jobbing his way around Europe with a bunch of mates. And while he was coming home for the wedding—because his ticket was paid for—everyone expected him to leave again. He had no plans to do anything else, it seemed.

Olivia sighed and sipped her coffee. Rhys was making the most of his freedom. She’d forgotten what that was. “Has Frankie told you her news?”

“Yes, she’s very excited to finally be free of it.” Her mother smiled as if it was her business that had been sold.

Olivia had known that Frankie was tired, but she’d thought it was more concern about her husband than being sick of running the café. People hid what they didn’t want the world to see. She knew that. She glanced at the ring and let Ethan wriggle to the floor.

“The staff may be let go.” She was raining on everyone’s parade today.

“But you’re qualified now and have two years of experience. You should be able to snap up a job.”

She doubted that, but she didn’t say anything. “I might start looking, just in case.” She glanced at Ethan, now driving a small car over every surface. “I don’t know how many part-time jobs are out there.”

Her mother placed her hand over Olivia’s. “You’ll be fine. You’re due some good luck.”

She hoped so. If not, she was obviously burning off some bad karma from a previous life. Olivia looked at the ring again. Unless she was holding onto her bad luck. She frowned. “Mum, do you think it’s time I stopped wearing it?”

“What, Olivia?” Then her mum lowered her gaze to Olivia’s hand. “No one can tell you when it’s time to move on. No matter what, you’ll always have it and the memories.”

And the scars.
But her mother didn’t say that even if she was thinking it.

Miles had left his mark on her life in more ways than one.

If she stopped wearing it she was sure Ethan’s other grandparents would notice straight away. Once a fortnight she took him to see them. They had never liked the idea of her and Miles getting married, they’d liked her being pregnant less. Nevertheless, they had set up a scholarship fund for when Ethan reached high school. She had to remember that while she had lost her fiancé, they had lost a son. She could always put the ring back on for them…no. If she was going to take it off, she’d do it right and take it off forever.

What was the point of wearing the ring when there would never be a wedding?

Kirsten had the old Sunday newspaper spread over the kitchen table when Ed walked past. He had no plans to stop and talk for any longer than it took to fill his water bottle before heading into the garage that served as their music room. However the pictures caught his attention. Kirsten wasn’t reading the paper, she was looking at cars.

He’d flicked through those same pages on Sunday and had moved on because there was no point in torturing himself. This time, though, he peered over his younger sister’s shoulder, curious to see what kind of car she was looking at.

While he’d looked at four-wheel drives and other decent sized cars, she was looking at the small ones. The really small ones with two doors and an engine slightly bigger than the average lawnmower.

“Could you be more of a girl?” He stepped back, shaking his head.

She flipped him the bird in reply. “I’m thinking about it. If I buy new then it will last for years and I can save for a house or holiday or something.”

“If you buy new, the value drops immediately. Wait for an ex-demo model.” When he researched, he really researched, but he still couldn’t justify the expense. He knew he’d end up running his car into the ground and then squeezing a little more from it.

She turned and grinned at him. “You’re starting sound like Dad.”

Excellent, that was just what he wanted to hear. “Thanks.” He lingered by the table not sure what to say for a moment, but wanting to say something. “So how’s it going?”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Are you being polite or nosy?”

Not nosy, there were some things he didn’t ever need to know about what his sister and Gemma had. “Polite, definitely polite.”

“Then good. Dating someone new is always exciting.”

“You’ve known Gemma for years.” Kirsten and Gemma had been friends since primary school. How could dating her be exciting?

Kirsten shrugged. “It’s different now. Different better. How about you?”

“How about me, what? I’m not seeing anyone.” And he wasn’t going to share any tales from the tour with his sister. If Gemma did, that was her business. Did he need to put some lines down so she didn’t dob him in to his sister? Not that she ever had. Not that he knew of anyway. For all he knew, Kirsten had heard some of the stories. He fiddled with the cap on his drink bottle. He’d always said his sister was off limits to Dan and Mike, he’d never expected it be Gemma who’d end up dating her.

“Maybe you should. All work and no play makes Ed a dull boy.”

Is that what Gemma was saying about him? That he was boring? “I get out. I catch up with non-music friends.” Which had made him realise what he didn’t have as well as what he did have.

His sister’s eyes narrowed. “When was the last time you went out with a woman?”

Ed looked up. “On an actual date?”

Kirsten pulled a face. “Yes, one which involves conversation, not sex, you pig.”

He briefly considered defending himself then decided it was safer to move on quickly. “Ages, before the tour.”

And they’d gone on two dates…both of which had involved more sex than conversation. But there had been a date and conversation beforehand so it totally counted.

“Maybe that’s your problem. You need to get out and find a muse or something.” Kirsten shrugged.

He remembered the blonde woman in the café, reading her book completely oblivious to the chaos around her. It had stuck with him even though he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he could ignore everyone around him and write on his own. He was part of a band and it should be a group effort. That was how it had been for the last album, everybody bringing something.

“It’s not going that badly.” That was an absolute lie. He wasn’t sure if it could be going any worse.

She gave him a look that was reminiscent of the glare their mother gave them when they were about three seconds from getting told off. “It’s not going that well either.”

It wasn’t all his fault. “We’re trying out some things.”

That was a lame brush-off and they both knew it.

Maybe he should work on his own for a bit, get some ideas happening. The niggling doubt that he’d used up all his ideas on the first album dug a little deeper. He ignored it. He’d go and find some new ideas.

“Happy car hunting.” He almost meant it.

“Next time it will be you.”

He hoped so. He hoped that after the second album he’d be able to move out. He was tired of feeling trapped. He could always walk away from the band. That door was open. But he knew he’d never take that step willingly. He’d have to be pushed. He loved his job…even if it currently wasn’t loving him.