Branna was lying down, which was a distinct disadvantage against this man; she needed to be upright so she could get a good glare going on.
“You’re asking me now, when I have a concussion and can barely form a rational thought? That’s low, McBride.”
His smile wasn’t as bright as it had once been; it was just a small tug of his lips now, and she wondered what changes had taken place in this man’s life since she’d been gone.
“Rosebud, that old thing's just taking up room in your shed. Let me get it out of your way. I’d be doing you a favor.”
“Geraldine is a 1966 Ford Mustang 4-speed manual 289 V8, McBride, not an ‘old thing,’ as you put it, and it’s mine,” Branna said, squinting up at him. His face didn’t register shock that she, a woman, knew things about a car; he just looked at her with those black eyes.
“There was always something sneaky about you, even in school. I reckon it’s just had time to develop since you left Howling.”
“I could always outsmart you, McBride. Glad to see some things stay the same.” Closing her eyes as she ran out of energy, Branna managed a small smile. “But I do thank you, Jake, for everything you did for me today, even though I may have been a bit difficult.”
“A bit?” He snorted. “You owe me, Rosebud, and payment will be a drive in that car.”
Branna was pretty sure her smile wouldn’t slip until she fell asleep.
The night was long, and by the time Annabelle woke her for the last time as the dawn was breaking, Branna thought briefly about letting the curse that was forming on her lips loose, but Nurse Smith looked tired too, so she swallowed it instead.
“Okay, Branna, that about does it. The torture is over for both of us. Now, go back to sleep, and when you wake, I’ll get you home.” Annabelle yawned after these words.
“You go get some sleep too, Belle.”
“Will do, and I’ll be right over there,” she said, pointing to the bed beside Branna’s.
“It’s good to see you again, Belle.” Branna finally found the courage to say the words she’d being thinking about through the long night. They hadn’t talked, because mostly Branna had slept, but it was still comforting to have her old friend here.
“You too, Branna. We’ll catch up soon.”
She wanted to, but it had been so long since she’d had a real friend like Annabelle Smith, in fact, probably since she was last in Howling, that she wasn’t really sure if she could still do it. She lay quietly as Annabelle settled into sleep and was soon breathing deeply, only then did Branna rise and swing her legs over the edge of the bed.
She felt like a wreck; her head hurt, she needed a shower, and her arm was in a really uncomfortable brace. Looking about for her clothes, she found them on a chair. Slowly and with one hand, she managed to remove her hospital gown and pull on her clothes. Finding some paper and a pen, she wrote Annabelle a note saying she’d gone home. Slipping on the sling that Jake had told her she had to wear along with the brace, she headed for the door.
The doors opened from the inside and then locked behind her as Branna made her way outside into the cool morning air. Shivering in her shorts and tank, she looked up and down the street. As usual, she’d reacted without thinking things through, and now it seemed she was going to have to walk home. Unlike Washington, Howling didn’t have ten taxis ready to pick her up the minute she stepped off the curb.
Making her way down the long driveway, she let the cool, crisp, and quiet morning air settle around her. Howling had always tugged at something inside Branna. Once it had made her long for what she couldn't have. Long to belong to somewhere and to someone. When she'd first arrived to go to high school, she'd been numb with grief from the death of her mother and hoped this small town would help both her and her father heal; she'd soon realized that hope was foolish.
Reaching the end of the drive, Branna headed down the main street. There was no litter or drunken people coming home from the night before; here, all was quiet. Howling was a town where you could settle and be safe. Your children would be happy and allowed to run down the streets and go to the shops without fear of something happening to them.
As the years had passed for Branna, the town of Howling had become stronger in her head, not weaker. She’d often remember things from here, places and people, and it had been those memories, along with Georgie’s wishes, that had made her leave Washington, pack up her life and come here. If it didn’t work, she could always leave, but Branna had wanted to at least try and see if she could one day call Howling home.
She heard the car from some distance, and then a worn-out, old, green jeep pulled up beside her and the window was rolled down.
“Morning, Branna.”
The man looked familiar. His close-cropped dark hair was different now; in school, it was long, reaching his shoulders. His smile wasn’t wide, but then she remembered that too as always being that way. In fact, Buster Griffin had always looked solemn, when, in actual fact, he had a dry humor that had often made Branna laugh in school. He was still built like a bull, big and solid, but strangely, he had been one of those people who she’d always felt comfortable around.
“Hey, Buster, you’re up early.”
“I own the Hoot Cafe, Branna.”
He was also not a man of many words, she remembered, which suited her just fine.
“You break yourself out?”
“I did.” She wasn't about to ask him how he knew she was back. This was a small town; everyone knew everything about everyone. Her arrival would have been telegraphed around town minutes after she’d driven through the redwoods.
“Get in then, and I’ll take you home.”
