Fire Within

Prologue

Ash fell from the grey sky like a cloud of broken dreams as she stared at the remains of what once was her home. Tears fell down her soot covered cheeks, stinging her eyes as she tried to keep them from falling. Her beautiful home was no more.
Needing to find what once was, she took a step forward, even as hands fought to keep her back. Her parents were in there. She needed to go, to find them. So with all the strength she could gather, she continued to walk on. Her foot crossed the threshold of the front entrance, the heat could still be felt under her feet. It burned her heart as she sought what she was looking for.
Things were broken and burnt so far that only ashes remained. She passed what had been the dining room, and turned to stare. All that was left of her great-grandfather’s oak table were stubs that must have been the legs. The wallpaper her mother had taken weeks to pick out was no more as well. Antique china, paintings of flowers in vases, tablecloths sewn by her ancestor’s hands joined the rubble that lay at her feet. Such treasures her mother had once cherished were now nothing more than a memory. Like so much else in her life. Nothing but a memory.
Even as a fresh tear rolled down her cheek, she continued on. She passed the living room and bent down to pick up half a photograph that had left only her in it. Was this a sign? Was it fate telling her that she had no one left in life? That she was alone? No. She wouldn’t, couldn’t take it as that. The room she needed was only a few steps away, and nothing was going to stop her from getting there.
She made it to her parent’s room with a hesitant stride. Memories washed over her, and struggled to surface with tears. She sniffed them back and walked to the area that had once been the room her mother and father had shared. Over the smell of ash and sulfer, she could smell her mother’s sweet perfume cling to the air as if with a last hope. As she let the citrusy scent stung her nostrils, she finally let the tears fall. They were gone. She would no longer hear her father’s loud laugh that had always sounded like a foghorn, or her mother’s dainty chuckles. Seeing her parents dance slowly together in the kitchen after washing dishes would never be a nightly occurrence again.
Why had this happened to them? Why had they been taken from her?
As she moved to run from the memories that haunted where she stood, something burned her foot. She jumped back out of instinct, and then bent down out of curiosity. Feeling through the ashes, she found the source of heat. Standing up, she held the string of her mother’s pearls clutched in her hand. She could still feel the heat, though the fire had been out for hours, pulsing through them. It stung as if she was touching the coils on a hot stove, something her mother had once told her not to do. Even as she stood there staring at the pearls, she could feel the heat growing around her. The smell of smoke snuck its way into her thoughts. She tore her gaze away from the pearls, and noticed that the walls were once more in place. All of the furniture was as it had been, and her parents lay quietly on their bed, asleep.
Something glowing caught her eye at the door, and she looked over to find flames crawling on the door. She dropped the pearls and tried to run over to her parents, but as she took her first step she was back in her own room screaming as she watched the flames lick at her own walls. Smoke filled the room, making it hard to breathe. Dizziness overcame her, and she fell to the floor. She needed out, was all she could think. Needed to get to mommy and daddy. They would know what to do. They always knew what to do. As she tried to crawl, her hand landed on something. In her hand, were once again her mother’s pearls.
The smoke was getting to her and all she could do was lie down. Someone would come for her, she had no doubt. Her eyes began to droop, and her vision became foggy. The last thing she saw before her eyes completely closed, was a shadowed figure coming through the open doorway. Hope warred with fear, and finally everything went black.


The sudden inability to breather ripped Angela Carter out of the black abyss that had been her nightmare. Tasting the smoke that had been in her dream in her conscious mouth, she coughed until her lungs burned.
It was the same reaction she had everytime she had it. The panic would cling to her nerves as it was doing now, and would threaten to consume her if she let it. Sweat would pour from her body, and pool into the sheets that she now sat on.
Struggling to bring fresh air into her lungs, Angela dragged herself out of bed and into her adjoining bathroom. There, she turned on the sink faucet, and pooled water in the bowl she made with her cupped hands to splash on her face.
After three takes, her nerves began to settle enough for her to turn the water off. She stared as the water flowed into the drain, and when the ink was left empty, she in turn looked up to stare at herself in the mirror.
She didn’t like what she saw.
The fear that she had tried so hard for so many years to keep at bat was back. She hadn’t had the dream in years, not since her marriage had fell apart and she had been left feeling completely vulnerable. So why was it coming back now? Why was the fear eating at her once again? Even as she thought the questions, the answers came to mind.
Because she was going back.
She cursed herself for that being the reason, and turned to brace herself against the cool marble of the sink edge under her fingertips. She shouldn’t let this small trip ruin everything she worked so hard to build. Ruin the person she had grown to become.
She was strong, goddammit. She wasn’t the scared, vulnerable mess she has been all those years ago. She could go for months on hand without needing a break, not even thinking back to what happened. Or who had broken her heart. So, she would stay strong. Dammit, or her name wasn’t Angela Carter.
Stronger now, she turned back to the mirror above the sink, opened the door that housed the medicine cabinet, and took out a couple of sleeping pills she had been prescribed when the nightmares had been more frequent. She hadn’t that taking them made her seem less weak, but at the moment she didn’t care.
If she was going to make that long trip down memory lane in the morning, she wasn’t going to lose sleep to some phantom smoke that was left better as ash. Swallowing the pills, and chasing them down with water she poured from one of the Dixie cups she kept by the sink, Angela went back to bed.
She stared at the ceiling, willing her mind blank. Finally ten minutes of exhausting concentration, the pills took mercy on her, and let her slip mindlessly, dreamlessly into sleep.


Chapter 1



The famous movie phrase, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home,” flowed through Angela’s mind as she drove through the town of her past in her midnight-blue convertible. The only thing was, she wasn’t Dorothy from Kansas, and she didn’t have a dog named ToTo. No, she wasn’t Dorothy, but she did have an imaginary pair of ruby slippers clicking in her mind. She shook her head, and chalked the mental clicking up to nerves, and lack of sleep. She really had to stop staying up so late watching old black and white movies.
Yeah. Like that was the reason you slept so little, the voice in her head scoffed. Feeling tension prickle the back of her neck, she prominently pushed the thought out of her mind.
As she drove along, Angela raised her head to the wind, and breathed in deep. She had forgotten how crisp the air was compared to the city. No smog, no exhaust fumes, and no scent of a nearby landfill. It was forever relaxing.
She took in the sites as she continued to drive along the moderately busy main street. The shops were still small, keeping up with the small town image, yet she could spot a few mainstream businesses here and there that have appeared all throughout the nation. Change was always bound to happen, even in this little piece of the world. You either embraced it, or died trying to keep it at bay. Seems like Thomasport, New York decided to embrace it, she thought, and headily approved.
It was a nice day, so there were people milling about every which way she looked. She saw children and families riding their bikes along, seeming to enjoy just being outside. Some of the bikers had small wagons attached to the back of their bikes, holding children who were too small to ride the bike themselves. In one instance, a wagon held a giant Saint Bernard, who looked just as happy to be out riding as the humans who pulled him.
People spilled around the picnic tanles outside the ice-cream parlor, lapping at their tasty treats, mingling with neighbors. Maybe sharing the local gossip, as people in this town generally did.
She smiled to herself, thinking of the towns oldest past-time, as she came to the lift bridge that crossed the canal. Boats lined the sides like a parade on water, and canoes were being glided along the water. With their bright colors, they looked as if they were cutting through glass. Seeing them brought back amusing memories of her times in a canoe just like them.
With all of this, the life and energy that existed here beyond the quiet presence, she wondered why it had been so long since she had been back. She knew she had missed the small town and all of its fancifulness for years. She didn’t think she had ever stopped missing what she had thought of as home for so much of her life. Yet, she never came back. Not once in ten years.
Then, like a smack in the face, she remembered why. Putting her blinker on, she made a left turn onto a small side street, lined with houses of all varieties and shaded with trees whose leaves danced in the slight breeze and sunlight.
Tears began to fight their way to the surface as she came closer and closer to her destination. She quickly ran a hand over her eyes to brush away the blurriness, and struggled to fight them back. What are you doing? She mentally lashed out at herself. There’s no reason to cry. This is all in the past. You put it behind you. Suck it up and do what you came back to do.
She gave herself a small shake, and pulled to the side with a confidence she couldn’t feel. Putting the car in park, she gave a quick glance in the rearview mirror to make sure her mascara hadn’t run, and bit off an oath when she saw that it had. She couldn’t go back to her past looking like a drowned rat. After a few moments of repairing damage, she gave herself a nod of approval, and stepped out of her car.
To her left, stood a house she hadn’t seen in years. It was a moderately sized house, with a chain-link fence that wrapped around the side yard. It was painted a neutral white that would have looked bland back in Chicago, but seemed like a shining beacon right here. An above-ground pool sat in the yard, filled with water that looked inviting enough to let her remember the steady heat that beat down on her uncovered shoulders. Had July’s always been this hot? The pool sat next to a wooden deck that hadn’t been there the last time she had been. Its oak finish left the mind to wander to cool summer nights, enjoying a drink with a few friends. God she wanted that. The feeling of easiness the deck invited.
Toys littered the yard, reminding Angela that there was a little one underfoot.
The house itself was the same. Still needed a good coat of paint, but she still felt the feelings of home wrap around her.
That was another thing she had missed all these years. Feeling at home, in this cozy house. She looked up at the window that sat above the enclosed front porch, and wondered if her friend still slept in that room. Deciding to check before she went and knocked, Angela found a pebble in the small front garden, and threw it at the window. When she heard the soft ping of rock on glass, she smiled to herself in pride. She hadn’t thrown rocks at that window in years, but she hadn’t lost her touch.
Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, she stared up at the window until she saw what she had hoped to see. A grumpy face full of freckles appeared in the windows frame. The viewer had looked out straight on at first, but then turned her head a fraction of an inch to find out who had thrown something at her window. When the figure spotted Angela standing on the front lawn, the grumpiness vanished, and was replaced by shock and then pure joy.
Angela felt a smile spread her face as she watched the face disappear in a hurry. She had no doubt her friend was eagerly running down the stairs to come outside. Her instincts stood firm, when the door jerked open and her friend vaulted off the cracked stone steps, and at her. She was pulled into and aggressive bear hug that stole the air right out of her lungs. She tried to laugh, but she was being squeezed so hard that it made it nearly impossible.
“Ok. Ok, hun. Angela needs to breathe.” She was able to laugh softly as she pulled her friend off and held her at arm’s length to get a good look at her.
Racheal Bennett was as beautiful as ever. Angela looked straight into eyes that were the color of rich topaz, and held the power to tell countless stories and emotions in one short blink. Freckles danced around ivory skin, and matched perfectly with the soft curling hair that fell like fire around her face. A smile curved full lips that had always been quick to curve.
Racheal was a few inches shorter than her own five-eight, but that never mattered. She had a slim build that Angela had always been jealous of, and was covered in torn jeans and a white t-shirt bearing the name of a local pee-wee hockey team. Her long, slim feet were bare, as was a natural thing for her friend. They were still alike in that way.
“God, you’re beautiful.” Angela exclaimed with a smile. “And you haven’t changed since I saw you last.”
Racheal’s smile widened at that and she cocked an eyebrow. “That was only five months ago. I would hope I haven’t changed in that short amount of time. Unless you were to tell me I looked younger, that I would accept. I don’t think I could handle it if I looked any older than I feel.” She let out a short laugh. “And anyways, you make me look frumpy compared to you. Did you have to wear the designer duds?” She quirked an eyebrow again at Angela.
Angela released her friend to stare down at her own wardrobe choice. She had spent hours fretting over what to wear, not sure if she would be recognized as she drove into town. After four hours of debating and obsessing, she had finally gone with the tight-fitting jeans, pink silk halter, and matching sandals. She had paired her casual look with a pair of silver hoops and a set of pearls that held a wealth of memory. It was her turn to quirk an eyebrow. “I thought I looked pretty damn casual when I looked in the mirror. Can you really tell that they’re designer?”
Racheal heard the sense of worry in her friend’s voice, on that could only be detected by someone who knew Angela deeply. Her friend had always been nervous about how she had looked, and she knew that would never ease. She quickly set about making any worries Angela might have, vanish. “Only because I was with you when you bought them.” Her smile meant to comfort, and she felt a small sense of relief when Angela’s shoulders relax. “Why would some city girl like you worry about what us hick town folks thought anyways, gal?”
The barb brought out a smile. “Well I guess you’re right there, since plaid is the theme these days, and honey-chile, plaid just isn’t me.”
Hearing the old nickname relaxed muscles in Racheal’s body that she hadn’t known had been tense. Before she had looked out the window a few minutes earlier, she had been nervous that Angela would change her mind, and not come at all. She knew more than anyone how many bad memories plagues this small town for her friend.
She had cleaned the whole house in a worry fit, battling between understanding and disappointment. She had decided that if Angela didn’t show, she would completely understand. Yet, she had still had the sadness on the backburner, because she had wanted to see her friend dearly. When she had heard a small sound hit her son’s window, she had jumped right out of her skin, since she had been day-dreaming while putting Andrew’s laundry away. She had looked out the window, not seeing anything at first, and then with a small tilt of the head, all of her doubts had been put to rest. She was here.



Angela stared at her friend for a moment, wondering where her mind had wondered. She lifted her hand, and snapped her finger’s in front of Racheal’s face to bring her back down to planet earth. “Earth to Shelly. Whatever you do, do NOT go into the light!” She smiled when Racheal’s eyes focused on her once more. “The light is not our friend right now, girl.”
“Sorry about that. My mind wandered for a moment.” She looked around the yard, and then moved towards the gate at the side of the house. “I’m just so happy you’re actually here, is all. Now, let’s go inside and toast to your home-coming.”
Still wondering where her friend’s mind had gone, now warred with the last statement that had passed from the other’s lips. “I don’t know if it’s a home-coming exactly, Racheal. I only agreed to go to the reunion because of a deal I made with my aunt.”
Racheal looked back at her. “Oh? And what deal was that?”
Angela worried the pearls at her neck, and could have bitten her tongue in two for letting that slip out. She hadn’t fully divulged the circumstances of her return, and worried that she would be condemned for pure shallowness. She figured that she might as well jump head-first into the shallow water, and get it over with. “I made a deal with Aunt Mill that if I came for the reunion, she would stop saying I told you so about Steve.” And had made a certain threat that she didn’t even want to think about at the moment, let alone speak aloud about. The first had seemed like such a petty thing to agree to, all in all, but she had tired of hearing her aunt voice her opinion of her ex-husband.
“The divorce was finalized over three years ago, Ange. She can’t still be gloating.” Racheal knew how painful the divorce had been for Angela. When she looked into her friend’s eyes, she could still see the pain there every time his name was spoken. She had never liked the man herself. He had had an air of slime about him anytime she had been near him. The man just oozed it.
Steven Carter was a man who had been born into wealth, and had never let anyone forget it. He had been spoiled early on by his mother, who when was with anyone else, was rigid. He had had all the most superior schooling that money could buy, belonged to his father’s country-club, and had a charm that had women swooning at his feet. Once-upon-a-time, Angela had been one of those girls.
They had met at a charity event her aunt had been hosting, when she had been fresh out of college. She still had the fears, and the innocence that hounded her daily. When he had walked across the room to ask her for a dance, she almost stuttered. She could only nod, and accept the hand that he had offered. He swirled her onto the dance floor, and used his charm to make her feel as if she was the only one in the room. They danced for hours on end, looking only into each other’s eyes. Angela couldn’t remember how it had happened, but they had found themselves on the terrace at some point, dancing under the stars.
When it was time for her to return home, he offered to drive her, insisting that he was only trying to save her the hassle of looking for a cab on a Saturday night. She had smiled, and nearly swooned right there and then. They had talked some on the ride to her apartment, idle chit-chat mostly. When they approached her building, he parked and offered to walk her to her door. She graciously declined, yet hoped he would anyway. He hadn’t disappointed.
Holding doors for her, keeping his hand at the small of her back, he walked her to the elevator, and rode with her to her floor. Outside her door, he didn’t ask to come in, or made any move to man-handle her. He simply kissed her on the cheek, and asked to see her again before strolling away.
And she had seen him again. He courted her with flowers, and fancy dinners. Introduced her to his mother, who disapproved immediately of her prize son courting someone who was beneath them. No matter how many times her son reminded her of Angela’s aunt’s wealth, and position in the community, the old bat wouldn’t soften.
Despite his mother’s qualms, Steven Carter and Angela Hughson were married only a short month later. Angela had been too over the moon to care about those qualms.
She didn’t stay over the moon for long though. Not when she had walked in on him in bed, their bed, with his ex-girlfriend, only a year after they had said “I do.”
Yes. The hurt was still there, Angela thought as she followed Racheal into the house. She didn’t think it would ever fade, but she stored it away with the rest of her past. At some point, she knew the box would burst, leaving herself wide open and vulnerable, but didn’t dare think about what would happen if it did, now.
Looking for something else to concentrate on, she let her eyes scan the large kitchen she had been led into. White cupboards and walls were toned down with accents of blue in the counter and curtains. Gleaming wood floors lay beneath her feet, bringing a feeling of comfort into the room. She remembered sitting at the counter that separated the dining room and kitchen as a teenager, talking endlessly with Racheal. They had always been able to talk non-stop, and sometimes annoyed Racheal’s family with just that. Angela smile at the memory.
“I still can’t believe your parents decided to move to Florida. They’re not even old.” She exclaimed.
Racheal turned from the refrigerator with a bottle of wine, and beamed. “Well, when Alan got the baseball scholarship to Miami, they figured they needed a change of scenery. I think they just wanted to make sure they were still young.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and uncorked the bottle. “They go dancing in clubs every weekend.”
Angela laughed at the image, Seeing Racheal’s parents doing exactly that. “I always loved watching your dad sneak kisses with your mom when he thought we weren’t around.”
“I remember thinking the same thing when I spent the night at your house and saw your parents. They were always so in tune with each other. Like—“ She cut off. The flash of sorrow that she saw in Angela’s eyes had stopped her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out. God, I’m so stupid.”
Angela shook her head. “No. I’m fine. It’s nice to remember them that way. They were good together. And with me.”
Racheal opened a cupboard, and took out two wine glasses. Fingering the stems, she figured a change of subject was in order. “So, are you ready to see everybody at the reunion?”
Remembering that was why she was in town, Angela gave a mock shudder. “God, no. It’s quite displeasing to know that we graduated high school ten years ago. Makes me feel old.”
“I know what you mean. I wonder if any of those hags who stuck their nose up at us wound up ugly.”
“I doubt it. We couldn’t get that lucky.”
“No we can’t.” She conceded. “In fact, I know of one that hasn’t. I see Deanna Crawsberry at the PTA every month.” She screwed up her face to show her disgust.
“No way.” Angela said, surprised. The ex-head cheerleader had made her and Racheal’s lives a living hell since kindergarten. She was surprised to hear that Deanna hadn’t pursued the modeling dream she had always boasted about doing.
“Yes way. In fact, she’s the head of it. And she doesn’t let anyone forget that little fact either.” There was a slight tone of resentment when she said it.
“Didn’t she want to be a model? I remember her always bragging about all of the covers she was going to be on.”
“She was. For a brief month after graduation, she had gone to New York. She came back after that month, claiming she was over that dream. The way I hear,” Racheal paused for effect, and leaned in real close over their wine glasses, as if it was a major secret. “she was rejected by every agency she went to.”
When a brilliant smile spread across Angela’s face, Racheal knew she had succeeded in cheering her friend up a bit. With that, she let one slip onto her face as well, one that was genuine this time around.
“Serves her right.” Angela smiled smugly into her glass as she sipped her wine.
“Well, maybe. She’s resorted to making everyone who’s on the PTA’s life a living hell.”
“How did she get on the PTA anyway? I can’t really picture Deanna as the motherly type.” Angela thought about that. No. She just couldn’t get the image to sit right.
“Besides her inherent sense of snootiness, and yes that is a word,” she added before Angela could correct her word choice. “she’s very good with her son. In fact, Andrew and Luke are very good friends.”
Quirking an eyebrow, Angela stared at Racheal for a moment. In the more quiet lighting of the dining room, Angela noticed things in her friend’s face that she hadn’t seen then they were in the glaring sunlight.
There were bags under her eyes that made her wonder if she was losing sleep. In the smooth skin of her forehead, Angela saw the faint lines of worry, and in the eyes. Yes. The eyes told the whole story, where her smile rarely reached them, and a sense of sorrow that always broke Angela’s heart. These were only things that were able to be spotted by someone who really looked. She was surprised she hadn’t looked sooner.
She reached out to grip Racheal’s hand in hers in a familiar, comforting gesture. “How are you holding up, Rach?”
Racheal didn’t pretend not to know what Angela was talking about. They had been through too much together not to understand what the other meant. They had often been told that they shared the same mind, and they never denied it. So, she should’ve known that Angela would see the hidden meaning behind the statement about Drew and his friend. She always knew how to read between the lines. “I’m holding.” She blew out a breath, and rose to look out the window. Her wine glass forgotten on the table.
“Every day I look at Drew, and I see him. I see Ed in my son’s eyes, and I think, just for a moment, that I haven’t lost him at all. She ran a hand nervously through her hair, not knowing how to explain things. “And when I’m alone at night, I reach over thinking I could curl into him, but all I feel is the cool sheets beside me. At those times, I can’t help but blame God for taking my Ed away from me. I keep wanting to end it all, just so I could be with him once again.
“Then, when I get up in the middle of the night to do just that, I pass by Drew’s open door. I always leave it open, because he’s been having nightmares lately, and I want to be able to hear him if he calls for me. I’m drawn to it, and just stare at him sleeping for an hour or more, knowing that I can’t go through with it. Then I blame God even more.”
Feeling a hint of panic, Angela rose to stand next to Racheal, for support she told herself. Really, she admitted only to herself, she did it to settle her own fears. “Rach.” She turned her friend towards her, so that she would be able to show her just how much she meant what she had to say. “I never knew you to be a religious woman, but I understand your need to put the blame somewhere. But, I never want to hear that you want to end your life again. You hear me?” Angela shook her, putting an edge to her voice. “Never.”
“I can’t help it Ange. I just miss him so much.” Racheal collapsed into Angela’s arms, sobbing.
Rubbing a comforting hand over her back as she let the tears fall, Angela’s heart broke even more. “Shh, honey-chile. I understand. Shh. It’s ok. Just let the tears fall.” She rocked back and forth gently, hoping the motion would soothe. “Ed was a great guy, and he loved you with all of his heart. Drew too. I know it hurts to know he’s not coming back, and I bet, if he could, he would do everything possible to get back to you. I know it.” She pulled Racheal back a short distance to look into her eyes once more. She smiled gently. “if I didn’t think he’d want to, I would never have given my approval to you to make him my brother-in-law.”
As she hoped it would, the inside joke reduced some of the sadness from Racheal’s eyes and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.. Next thing she knew, she was wrapped in a hug again, this time without the tears. “Thank you.” She heard her friend murmur.
Hugging back, Angela could only say, “Anytime, honey. Anytime.”


They stood that way for awhile. For how long, neither of them knew. But with each passing moment, Angela could only think that for this, she would come back more. Despite the demons that continued to flag her. She needed to keep this contact with her friend to keep Racheal safe, and to keep her own sanity.
Once they’d seated themselves again, with another glass of wine, they smiled at each other. “Alright. We need to liven the mood a bit, Honey-chile. Tell me, where is my beautiful nephew?”
“With Luke. They have a scheduled sleepover.”
Shaking her head, Angela took a sip. “I’m sorry, but I still can’t see Deanna as the motherly type. And I definitely can’t see her hosting a sleepover for two seven-year old boys. How do you let him go over there?”
Racheal smiled again. “She and I both see that the boys are good foe each other. What with Ed gone, and Deanna and her husband’s messy divorce, we figured they belonged as friends. We also came to the conclusion that we can’t stand each other.”
“Here, here.” She raised her glass in salute.
“So we acknowledge each other briefly when either of us has to see each other. She holds her tongue about our past, and I hold mine about the many guys she’s taken to bed.” She sent a wink Angela’s way.
“She’s still at it?” Angela asked shocked, yet not really surprised. It had never been a secret in high school about the looseness of the most popular girl in school. She always figured that was the reason for her popularity. Yet, she could not believe that with a son, Deanna would continue with her wild ways.
“Oh. She’s very discreet about it, or so she thinks. But this is still a small town, and there is of course, gossip.”
“So tell me, who is the woman consorting with now-a-days?” She had asked the question, trying to make it sound off hand, but inside she was more curious than the cat that was killed from it.
Racheal wasn’t sure she should tell her friend. The man Deanna was hooking her claws into now could bring up some memories she knew Angela wouldn’t like to think about. Especially, since they had already been so emotional with each other, and Angela hadn’t even been here two hours.
On the other hand, she thought it would be easier if she told her herself, instead of her finding out at the reunion. Yes, that was definitely the better idea. “You sure you want to know?” She inquired before diving in head first.
“What do you mean, do I? Of course I do. He has to be a real loser to let Deanna hook her claws into him. He must—,” She trailed off when she noticed Racheal wasn’t looking at her, but at her glass. Suddenly, Angela realized why Racheal had been apprehensive to tell her. She didn’t like the answer. She didn’t like it one bit. She stared as she said, “You can’t mean she’s seeing him, can you?”
Racheal had the gull to look innocent as she simply said, “Him who?” and it made Angela’s blood boil.
“You know damn well, him who! Liam Daniels.” She rose abruptly to pace the dining room. Her disgust with the subject at hand wouldn’t allow her to sit. She just simply couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t allow herself to believe it. “That bitch has her eye on him, doesn’t she?”
“Unfortunately, babe, he has his eye on her as well. They’ve been seen in public a lot lately.”
“Anywhere particular?” She wasn’t sure why she needed to know, just that she did.
“The bar on main. McKinney’s.” The look in Angela’s eye had her regretting having mentioned the bar. The look told her that they would wind up doing something stupid. They always did when she got that look in her eye. “Now Angela, don’t go doing anything stupid.” She held a hand up to block the objection that was going to come out of her friend’s already opening mouth. “Yes, you know you were thinking of doing exactly that. You had that look in your eye.”
“I don’t know what look you’re talking about.” Angela pouted.
“Yes you do. You forget babe, I know ever expression on your face. Now, what you had with Liam is in the past. He has every right to see whom ever he chooses. Including, Deanna.”
Wanting to object, but knowing Racheal was right, Angela let it go. “I know. It just makes me so mad. I hate his guts for everything he did to me the summer before I left, but I still can’t get past him.”
Knowing that another change of subject was in order, yet again, Racheal grasped at the first thing that came to mind. “Okay, why don’t we go get your bags out of the car, get you settled, and then have an all girls night. We’ve got the whole house to ourselves.” She wiggled her eyebrows in a Groucho Marx impersonation, and had Angela laughing.
“My bags are staying where they are, because I’m due to check in at the inn down the street soon.” She glanced at her watch. “Make that ten minutes.”
“Oh, no you don’t. You’re staying right here, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Rach, I can’t stay here. I’ll just get in the way.”
Racheal just stared. “Do I have to go get Drew’s jump-rope, tie you up, and carry you to the guest room? Because I will if I have to.”
Angela looked her friend over, and quickly swallowed a smile. Instead, she stared dead at her, and quirked an eyebrow. “I’m stronger than you.”
“That was the old me, babe. I’ve gotten stronger in the past ten years, with raising a son and all.” She could still see Angela hesitate, so she brought out the one thing she knew that would make her cave. “If not at my insistence, then for Drew. He’s been waiting for you to come all week. He’s missed his auntie Angela.” For extra measure, she poked her lip into a pout and batted her eyelashes.
Oh, her friend knew how to fight, Angela thought, and fight dirty she did. Racheal knew that she would do anything for her nephew, and had used it to her advantage. Angela seriously regretted teaching her that trick back in high school. So, the trick had worked, and her mind was now changed. “Fine. You win. Let me go get the bags, and once I dump these, we’re going out.”
“Is that so? And where would we be going?” Racheal asked, following Angela to the door. She was afraid she already knew the answer.
Walking fast, as not to look into Racheal’s eyes, Angela merely muttered, “McKinney’s”
Stopping to stare up at the ceiling, she threw up her hands and chased Angela out the door. She had known that was the answer, and now knew that tonight was going to be a very interesting night.



McKinney’s was a low-key establishment, settled on the corner of Main and Barberry. Although, as low-key as it was, it was still the town’s favorite place to sit around, with friends or alone, and enjoy a nice cold drink.
From the outside, it looked like an old, comfortable cottage with its deep green exterior, and roof tiles made of wood. Hedges wound around the sides, enclosing the building as if offering protection. A stone walkway made of large stones led to an entrance that was flanked by stone pillars, and a large wooden door. No, from the outside it certainly didn’t look like a bar, but once you stepped inside, it was a whole new ball game.
The walls were planked in wood, as if to match the roof, lending a patron the feel of stepping into a rustic lodge. They were also covered with framed photographs of the famous and the athletic. Traffic signs, old-fashioned washboards, and a mix of other eclectic treasures were among the photographs.
Flat-screen televisions were in multiple amounts throughout the room. Some set to sports, others set to CNN, or the local news.
The bar itself, though, was the pride of the establishment. Its cherry oak surface gleamed dominantly in the center of the room. Its shape was unique in itself, where it laid in a circle rather than straight across. Bottles of every kind of alcohol graced the shelves in the middle, each stacked in precise order.
Behind the bar, Liam Daniels watched as regulars, and new-comers alike wandered through the door. Many sat at the bar in which he was working, but some others opted for the privacy of the tables and booths that were strewn about the place.
Watching people come in and out of the bar he had worked so hard at creating, had a sense of pride welling up inside of him. If someone had asked him five years ago if he saw himself owning a bar in his hometown, he would have laughed in their face. Now, he decided that the choice he had made three years ago, was indeed, the right one.
Five years ago, Liam Daniels was at the top of his game with the Chicago Police Department. Being a cop had given him a great deal of pride in himself, such as this bar did right now. He had lived the dream created in his youth, and never looked back. Until two years earlier, when a young woman whom he was supposed to be protecting, decided she didn’t want the protection any longer, and hadn’t lived long enough to see the sun set that night.
Later, much later, he had learned that it wasn’t his fault, but he still felt the blame. So, handing in his resignation, Liam packed up his desk, handed in his badge and gun, and found his way back home.
Damn. It felt good to be back though.
As the door opened yet again, Liam looked up from the drink he was pouring, and swore under his breath. His easy feelings he had moments ago vanished when he saw who had come through the door.
What was the damn woman doing here? His brows furrowed in frustration.
Before going over to the woman that had been causing him a great deal of distress, he pasted on a smile, served the customer his drink, and tapped one of his employees on the shoulder to let him know he needed to take care of some business. He indeed, in his mind, needed to take care of a certain business he should have taken care of as soon as it had become an issue.
Walking out from behind the bar, Liam tugged off his apron, and walked to the blonde that had just walked in. As he did, she smiled and sealed her lips over his when he finally made it to her. Wanting to be unaffected, but still feeling a touch of desire, he kept his body still, and his hands fisted at his sides. She, however, didn’t seem to notice, and kept herself draped over him like a wet blanket even after she broke the kiss.
“Hey, handsome. Miss me?”
“Deanna. What are you doing here?” he said through gritted teeth.
“Why, I came to see you, of course.” She said on what had sounded like a purr. The sound grated at his nerves, yet created an unwanted stirring in his libido. He had to mentally scold that libido for being so trigger-happy. Deanna Crawsberry was just too much trouble, and he had no room in his life for her kind of complications. “I know you said you couldn’t come out and play tonight, but I figured I could change your mind by the end of the night.” She gave a sly smile, intended to melt.
“No. What I said,” he took her by the arms to put her at arms length, “was there we were finished.”
Luke saw her lips start to form a pout, and knew cutting things odd wasn’t going to be easy. “You don’t mean that Liam. You can’t possibly.”
“Yes. I do.” He ran a hand through his hair in an agitated gesture.
“But we’re so good together.” Deanna said with a whine to her voice. One she had adapted for when things weren’t going quite her way. If she would only get it through her brain, Liam thought, that none of it was going to go her way.
“Were.” He corrected. “As in past tense, Deanna.” He took a step back, and started to turn to walk away, but something held him back. Later, he would admit that he had always had a hard time seeing an expression of hurt cross a woman’s face, but for now he just needed to get her out of his bar. Away from him. “Listen. We had some good times heating up the sheets. But that heat has cooled, and I have no desire to keep it going. So, if you’re going to be here tonight, it’s going to be as a paying customer. Got it?”
He nearly winced when he saw her shock from his statement immediately turn to anger. She was better off angry with him, than in his hair trying to seduce him every which way.
He should have expected the slap, though. He knew he had been callous in what he had said, but the burn on his cheek, where he knew a Deanna sized handprint now laid, turned his detachment into a slow anger.
“Go home to your kid, Deanna.” He took her by the arms, and turned her toward the door, giving her a slight push towards it. “I have a business to run.”
“You’re going to regret this, Liam Daniels. You will never be able to find another woman who can fuck you the way I did.”
Liam stopped in his attempt to be nice, and get her out of the door before his anger took over. He stared at her for a moment in shock at her words, then shook his head in defeat of doing things amicably.
“You just keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. Maybe one day your wish will come true.” He said as he turned and walked back towards the bar. Before he made it behind the wooden barrier, he heard a high-pitched scream, and hoped to hell none of the glass would break.
Without breaking stride, he walked back behind the bar, grabbed his apron and secured it around his waist. He knew she would leave, if not for her hate for him. She didn’t disappoint, because then he heard receding footsteps on the wood floor, and then the slamming of the front door. He figured she must be truly pissed, since the door was heavy, and would take a lot of strength to slam.
But right now, he needed to prepare for the Thursday night crowd, and didn’t have time to think about her right now. So he promptly shoved the whole incident into the storage locker in his brain, and went back to work.