She wasn’t sure, but thought that the boy sighed and his body lost its stiffness as he leaned on her and Branna bent down and held him close.I hear you, Georgie, and yes, he’s now part of me, just like he was you.
“Okay, but I’m not the pushover she was. As far as big sisters go, I’m pretty hardass.”
His chuckle was the sweetest sound. “You speak like me, but you sound different.”
“It’s an Irish accent, squirt, but I’ve been in America so many years it’s softened. Now, you get into that house and find the key to Geraldine. We need to start this bad boy up, and maybe get my purse in case we do, and we can get ice cream.”
“Wow, cool!” He ran in a flash of limbs from her toward the house, and Branna took the time to collect herself. She didn’t like excesses of emotion; they played hell with your ability to function.
She began to walk around the shed, looking at the tools that Dan, Georgie’s husband, had hung carefully along one wall. It was still immaculate, each thing in its place. Memories bombarded her. She saw Dan laughing as she tried to hammer a nail into the school project he was helping her make, saw Georgie walk in through the doors, the sun at her back, all that red hair alight with light streaking through it. Dan would drop whatever he was doing and sweep her up in his arms, kissing whatever part of her face he could reach.
“I miss you both so much,” she whispered. Her fingers touched as she moved, running down the long handle of a tool or along the edge of the workbench. This had been her haven; this had been the sanctuary that a broken sixteen-year-old had needed.
“I didn’t meet Dan, but she told me about him.”
“He was special like her,” Branna said, coming back to where Mikey now stood beside the Mustang. “Had a really deep laugh that made everyone want to join in.”
“Georgie showed me pictures.”
They worked together to remove the cover, and then there it was, the beloved Geraldine.
“Why’s it called Geraldine?”
“Dan’s mom was called Geraldine, and as they had no kids, he named his car after her.”
It was pale baby blue with red leather upholstery, and it was hers. Branna smiled, a genuine one that started in her belly and traveled through her body.
“The battery’s on the work bench… you want me to put it in?” the boy said.
“You know how?”
Mikey snorted, and she was pleased to hear the sound because her heart had just about broken hearing the pain of his cries and feeling the sobs that shook his body. She knew Georgie had given her the house because she had loved Branna, but she also realized now that there was more to that gift and that perhaps this boy had been part of the legacy.
“Georgie taught me stuff.”
“She was a pretty handy lady, that’s for sure.” Branna lifted the hood, and he placed in the battery then connected the terminals.
“Okay, squirt, let’s fire her up.”
They both climbed in, Branna turned the key, and she roared to life, which made them both laugh like crazy for some strange reason.
“I may not be able to drive this time, Mikey, with my wrist still being sore, but—”
“Is that Jake McBride?”
Following the finger Mikey had pointed out the doors of the shed, she saw the dark green pickup truck appear, Jake pulled it to a stop beside the barn and Branna refused to acknowledge how good the man inside looked as he climbed out. The sun played with his curls and surrounded him as he walked the few paces to the entrance; the expression on his face wasn’t as mean as the one he wore this morning, which made her relax a little.
“Jake loves this car. He asked Georgie if he could buy it once,” Mikey said.
“Just the once?” Branna switched off the ignition as she looked at Mikey, who was looking at Jake. She sighed when she saw the hero worship in his eyes. It was just like school all over again. He collected admirers like other people did stamps, only now, he didn’t seem too keen on keeping his collection going.
Chapter5
“You’re trespassing, McBride,” Branna said, going on the attack.
He bent to look into her open window, and she fought the childish urge to wind it up as those dark eyes studied her. Branna could see the lines around them and the small scar under his chin. This close, he was devastating—a big hunk of male that to most women would be irresistible, but she was not most women, nor was she still a besotted teenager. Therefore, Branna absolutely refused to find him anything but irritating, especially after their last encounter.
“I’m sorry,” he said solemnly.
