Page 27 of True North

Hillview Road sounds pretty damn good right now.

* * *

The busted sign arching over the entrance sways in the breeze like the posts are rotted off at the ground. The owners of the ranch still live here, so I kill the engine and glance around, trying to make out what I can.

One run-down old barn.

One large but worse for wear homestead. No yard. But a bunch of ancient trees surrounding the house. Like loyal knights standing at attention. The old weeping willows sway on either side of the house, a few in the front and at least one huge one out back. The yards are too close to the house. No round yard. No stables.

The bank manager was right to say this place would need a stellar year to cover the mortgage payment. Hell, it’ll take me a whole six months just to fix what I can see, and I haven’t even set foot on the place yet.

I rub a hand over my head and blow out a breath. I’m not afraid of hard work or long hours. And if it means a better life for Ma, then I’m all hands on deck. I take a few more minutes to look around and make a mental list of what needs fixin’.

On the way home, I decide to keep this under my hat for now. I don’t want to get Ma’s hopes up. Or have the conversation about the old man a second before I have to. Ain’t no way I’m taking him with. One of his buddies can take him in. It’s time we washed our hands of the old bastard.

It’s about dark when I make it home. The lights are all on and Louisa’s car is in the driveway. What the hell?

Shit, it’s Wednesday.

How the hell did I forget?

And why is she still here?

I pull up in a flurry of gravel, killing the engine as I push out of the vehicle like a rattlesnake slid up onto the seat. Taking the steps two at a time, I burst through the door.

Yelling finds me before I have the chance to lay eyes on either Ma or Louisa. I rush toward the sound. The second I find Ma, my insides crawl with lava. A vicious welt tarnishes the side of her face. Her arm is held out, crossed in front of Louisa. Who stares, wide-eyed and shaking, at my old man.

Fuck.

Judging by the determined look on Ma’s face, she’s been doin’ her own yelling. My hands curl to fists, breaths burning their way over the raw sound leavin’ my throat. I glance at Louisa. Her eyes flicker to Eddy, as if assessing what’s going to happen next.

The old man drags his glare to me. “Well, if it isn’t the get-about. Where the hell have you been? Why’s the bank manager ringin’ me?” He takes a step forward.

He’s sober.

Fuck.

“Harry, take Louisa home,” Ma says, fear warring with determination, its filthy remnants lacing her voice.

Ignoring her, I step into his space. “What did you do to her?”

“Never did deserve a girl like her. Making sure she knows it.”

I turn to Louisa. “You alright?”

She nods, her eyes not leaving mine.

“Please, Harry, take her home. I’ll be fine.” Ma stares straight at the old man. There haven’t been many times she’s stood up to him. Louisa, apparently, was worth the fight.

I step up, towering over the mongrel as I say, “I ought to end you where you stand. But, for some godforsaken reason”—I glance to Ma—“today is not that day.”

He shakes his head and leans back like he’s about to take a swing at me. I step out of his way, and he falters onto one knee before pushing to stand.

Guess all that alcohol had permanent effects.

I walk to where Ma still holds Louisa behind her. “You sure about this, Ma?”

She tilts her chin up, looking into my eyes with a forced smile. “I’ll be fine. Take Louisa home, my love.” She turns back. “Please, hon, don’t take anything you heard tonight to heart. Please.”

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