Promises Page 4

  A very eerie sore thumb.

  Shutting the garage door, she looked over again as the front light flooded part of the yard to outline a tall, lean figure.

  Jason Dawson, her new neighbour, jumped lightly off the veranda and strode across to the old ute, opening the door and getting inside, the door slamming behind him. The engine started and he backed out of the driveway onto the road, pulling out into the street and driving away.

  Probably had a date. He was good-looking in a rough, tough way, and it was Friday night. She had a date, too - with a pizza and her crazy friend. Could be worse, she thought soberly. It could be with family. That’d be hellishly worse.

  Don’t think about it.

  Too late. As she hurried onto the veranda of the house she rented and called her home for the last two years, she couldn’t help but feel a pang. She should have been in her original home, saving money for her twilight years instead of renting while saving a large deposit for her own home. She should have been babysitting her nieces, looking after their dog while her sister and brother-in-law were on holiday, spending Christmas and Easter with family. Instead, she spent it alone. Chose to, because of the bad blood that was now between them.

  “I didn’t cause it.” She shoved the door openly impatiently. “Not my fault.”

  Flicking on the hallway light, she was greeted by Arnie coming out of the lounge. He stretched, yawned and started complaining.

  “Let me guess.” She walked into the kitchen with the Siamese yowling behind her the whole way. “You’re starving to death.” Sure enough, the bowl was half full of cat biscuits, but she knew what he was waiting for. “Does His Highness want chicken or tinned salmon?”

  Arnie jumped onto the kitchen bench and stared at her.

  “I’m not a mind reader, and you’re not doing a very good job of projecting your choice at me.”

  He yowled.

  “Let’s go for the salmon, especially as I’ve just realised that I forgot to put the chicken out to thaw this morning. I’m not a good Mum. Not like…” Her voice trailed away as she opened the cupboard to retrieve a can of cat food.

  It had to be the weather. She opened the tin, scooped the fish onto Arnie’s saucer and placed it down beside his water dish. The weather was making her suddenly maudlin.

  Leaning back against the bench, she watched Arnie. Her mother’s cat, her mother’s beloved boy. Now he belonged to Izzy. Instead of being swaddled in love all day and having her mother with him kowtowing to his every demand, he only had Izzy. She loved him, did her best by him, but she had to work for a living. He’d survived, adjusted, just as they’d both had to adjust to a few shocks.

  “It’s just life, eh?” Picking up her bag, she turned and walked out of the kitchen. “And I’m an overemotional idiot. There are worse off than us.”

  In the bedroom she placed her bag in the bottom of the wardrobe and hurried into the bathroom, knowing she had time for a quick shower before Mikki arrived with dinner. A fast dry before pulling on a warm jumper, yanking on a pair of slacks and sliding her feet into slippers. Feeling more comfortable, she turned the TV on in the lounge, flipped around the channels until she found the channel she was after and grinned. Mikki wanted ghosts? She’d give her ghosts.

  A knock on the door heralded Mikki’s arrival, and it wasn’t long before they were flopped on the sofa with the pizza on the coffee table, a steaming cup of tea each, and a haunted house movie playing. Arnie brazenly begged bits of bacon from Mikki, who gave in as always, feeding him most of what was on her slices. The rain pattered on the roof, screams came from the TV, the scent of pizza filled the air and Izzy felt better.

  Nothing like a good friend to help lift the mood.

  She glanced across at Mikki. Best friends since the day they met on opposite sides of the supermarket aisle two years ago, Mikki was fun, a little crazy, convinced that the paranormal lurked in unexpected places, and went her own merry way. Generously curved, buxom, with curly red hair that was currently bundled up in a clip at the back of her head and big green eyes, Mikki had loving parents who didn’t quite understand her ideas or beliefs and a gaggle of siblings who were all married with kids. Mikki was the youngest, single, happy and dragged Izzy with her to her families’ gatherings. Mikki’s family had gathered her into their chaotic crush and fast became Izzy’s second family. The only family she was interested in being with. Yeah, she was lucky.

  By the time the movie was finished the rain was teeming down.

  Izzy picked up the empty pizza box. “Stay the night. The bed in the spare room is made up.”

  “Good idea.” Mikki’s yawn almost split her face. “It’s late, and watching that horror movie while living beside a haunted house might have brought out bad vibes.”

  “You think the ghost will prefer this house?” Izzy shook her head. “Doubt it. My house is nowhere near as fancy as next door.”

  “It’s not fancy. It’s haunted.”

  “It won’t be any longer if the ghost comes here.”

  “I could burn some sage-”

  “You light that crap up, you can go home.”

  “When something floats above your bed tonight, just remember I had the power to stop it.”

  Izzy rolled her eyes.

  ~*~

  “Izzy. Iz.”

  “Mmph?” She burrowed deeper under the Doona.

  “Wake up.” An insistent hand shook her shoulder.

  Blinking, she pushed the Doona down and reached out for the lamp. “What?”

  Mikki smacked her hand away from the lamp. “Don’t!”

  “Oh for…” Sitting up, she could just make out Mikki beside the bed. “What?”

  “There’s something next door.”

  “Huh?” Izzy pushed a heavy lock of hair off her face. “You mean someone. It’s probably Jason returning, he went out before you came.”

  “Nope. I heard something.”

  “Mikki-”

  “I’ll show you.” Mikki darted off. “And don’t turn on the lights!”

  With a groan, Izzy got up, shivering as the chill bit into her. The bed was warm and much more inviting than peering through windows at unseeable things that were figments of Mikki’s overimaginative imagination.

  “No more,” Izzy muttered. “No more horror movies for Mikki.”

  Managing to find the slippers where she’d left them beside the bed, she slid into them. Unfortunately, with the lamp off she couldn’t find her dressing gown, so she staggered out of the bedroom into the hallway. Eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness, she managed not to collide with the walls or furniture. “Where are you?”

  “Here!” Mikki hissed.

  “‘Here’ where?”

  “My bedroom.”

  The spare bedroom was at the front of the house. Izzy joined Mikki at the window. Mikki had the curtain pulled aside and the window partly open, letting the scent of rain and a chill breeze come through the security screen.

  “Look.” Mikki pointed at Jason’s house.

  Standing beside her, Izzy peered out. “What am I looking for?”

  “There. See?”

  “No.”

  “Look closer at the window at the side of the house towards the front.”

  Izzy leaned forward, Mikki right beside her.

  “I can’t see anything.”

  “Look! The window where the light is shining through.”

  “Huh. So what?”

  “Look at the curtain.”

  As Izzy studied it, she saw the curtain in the window start to twitch wildly.

  “There!” Mikki’s hand on Izzy’s shoulder tightened. “See that?”

  “Yeah, but-”

  “Why would your neighbour be yanking the curtains?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s drunk?”

  “Even if drunk, why yank the curtains? Look at them.”

  Izzy had to admit it was odd. The dull light inside backlit the window. The heavy curtains were partially drawn aside,
the lace curtains creating a hazy view of the room beyond.

  “Bit careless leaving the curtains open,” she commented. “Any prowler can see what he has-”

  “Oh my God!” Mikki shrieked.

  Izzy cringed as her friend’s voice rang in her ears. “What? What?”

  “Look at the bottom of the window!”

  “It’s just boards-”

  “No, you nong! On the other side of the window. Inside the house.”

  Izzy peered closer. Okay, the curtains were still swaying wildly, but what had caught Mikki’s horrified attention? What had - “Holy crap on a stick!”

  “I know!” Mikki shook Izzy’s shoulder. “How did he get over there?”

  “Get over there? How did he get out of here and how did he get in Jason’s house?” Horrified, Izzy watched Arnie swinging off the curtain. “What the hell…?”

  The Siamese swung, claws hooked in the lace curtain before he ditched the curtains and clung to the flywire screen, his body clearly outlined as he happily surged to the top of the window. Then, before Izzy’s horrified eyes, he scrambled back down to disappear from sight.

  “Maybe Jason let him in?” Mikki queried.

  “But how did he get out of here? You were asleep and Arnie was on my bed when I switched off the lights.” Izzy turned and dashed from the room. “Never mind that, I’m getting my cat back right now!”

  Chapter 2

  Slouched on the sofa, Jason watched his mother ironing the shirt. Lora hummed happily to herself as he studied her, seeing her in a new light.

  Her grey hair swung around her shoulders in a neat bob, her lined face was relaxed, her tall, slim figure dressed in slacks and a frilly-fronted blouse. Low-heeled pumps on her feet. She looked elegant, happy.

  He remembered when her hair was confined in a tight bun, her face showed tension, and her clothes were from the second-hand shop and often patched. Most of the run-down farm’s money was spent by his father on alcohol. Ray Dawson wasn’t a happy drunk, he was a vicious bastard when he got a skinful and he took it out on his wife. He smacked his sons around if he could get hold of them, too, but Brand and Jason had learned early to run, just as Lora had stepped in often to take the brunt of their father’s drunken rages. The Dawson brothers had evolved into troublemakers, and Jason still cringed at the thought of how they’d been heading down the same pathway as their father.

  For Jason, however, that had ended the day Brand raised a hand to Lora. The fight between him and his brother had been vicious but it hadn’t ended there. Nope, his brother had then started in on a woman Jason admired from afar, and the resulting fight had ended with Jason in hospital with busted ribs. Then he and Lora had left and turned up here at Uncle Harris’s house.

  Jason had learned a trade, earned honest money and saved, and his cousins had taught him to laugh, to not take offence so fast, to take a joke and give one back without wanting to crack heads and get angry. Meanwhile, his mother had slowly grown out of her shell, no longer flinching at raised voices. Slowly her shoulders straightened, a smile came back to her face, and she got a job at a florist.

  Hell, Jason hadn’t even known his mother had been a florist before she’d met Ray Dawson and her whole life had taken a turn for the worst. It was only through Aaron that he learned that Lora had married Ray against her family’s wishes, and it had been her pride that had made her cut all ties with her family so they wouldn’t know how bad her life had become.

  But Uncle Harris had taken them in without a word of recrimination. Lora still lived with her brother, doing the housework and taking care of the boys until they all left - Blue for the Army, Luke and Jason sharing a bachelor house until recently. Aaron had left home before Jason and Lora had arrived, but he was still close to his family, visiting most weekends or dropping in during the week.

  Yeah, he thought, his mother finally had a life. She apparently also had a boyfriend. He winced. Boyfriend? That sounded just so wrong.

  “Okay, Jason, what’s on your mind?” Lora continued ironing.

  “Nothing.”

  “Uh huh. Boy, I can feel you staring at me. Now what’s the problem?”

  How to say this delicately? Un-accusingly? Without sounding judgemental?

  He cleared his throat. “Um…I heard about your date.”

  “Ah.” Sliding the shirt onto a coat hanger, she hung it from the door knob. “Yes.”

  “Who is he?” Realising how that sounded, Jason tried again. “I mean, how long have you known him?” Because that sounded better. “I mean, I don’t remember you mentioning him.”

  Laying one leg of the trousers on the board, Lora continued ironing. “I’ve mentioned him before. Jim comes in to buy flowers.”

  “The weedy bloke?” Okay, she could handle a weedy bloke.

  “No, silly. The ex prize fighter.”

  Oh shit, that didn’t sound good. “He’s a fighter?”

  “Ex. He hasn’t fought for about twenty years.” She cast Jason a smile. “Fighting is for younger men.”

  “Yeah, but Mum, a fighter?”

  “Ex.”

  “Ex fighter. Whatever.” Jason pushed upright. “Fighting. That’s not something a sane person does.”

  “Son, there’s a difference between beating up women and kids, and fighting in a ring.”

  “You think?” He stared at her worriedly. “He’d have to have a disposition towards violence.”

  “Wrong.” Calmly she swapped the trouser legs and continued ironing.

  “You don’t think smacking the crap out of someone is violent?”

  Pausing, Lora looked at him.

  The silence between them lengthened for several seconds until he shifted uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “Honey,” she said gently, a touch reprovingly.

  Great. Jason inwardly rolled his eyes. She was reminding him of the fights he got into before his uncle and cousins had straightened him out. “I think it might be different.”

  “Why? Because I’m your mother?”

  “Because he chose fighting for a living.”

  “Actually, he never made a good living out of it. He still worked as a delivery man. Never made the big time.”

  “Do you realise how much worse that sounds? Jim was a fighter and a delivery man. It sounds like he got rid of bodies for the Mob.”

  “You watch too much TV with Luke.” Carefully hanging the pants over a hanger, Lora placed it beside the shirt. “Jim is a nice man. We’re only going out for dinner.”

  “Will you be back by ten thirty?” Jason asked bluntly. “How about I drop you off at his house on the night and pick you up?”

  Laughing softly, she strode up to Jason and patted his cheek gently. “I’ll be fine. Harris knows.”

  That made Jason feel marginally better. “What’d he say?”

  “That I was old enough to make up my mind who I dated.” Lora strode out to the kitchen.

  Following right on her heels, ignoring Aaron who sat at the kitchen table working on his computer, Jason queried, “Oh?”

  “Yep. Plus as soon as he knew Jim had asked me out, he was waiting outside the florist shop the next morning for Jim to turn up. Before he could get in the door Harris was grilling him.” She laid the iron on the sink to cool. “I didn’t even know until Jim walked in grinning. Harris was at the door, gave me the thumbs up and walked off. I knew straight away what he’d been up to.” Lora walked past Jason back into the lounge. “So Jim has Harris’s seal of approval.”

  “Cautionary seal.” Folding the ironing board, Jason carried it into the hall to place in the linen cupboard.

  “It wasn’t necessary, though. I’m fine.”

  A thought occurred to Jason. Seeing as how both Luke and Uncle Harris knew, that meant that Aaron also knew. Jason grinned, feeling a little better. No doubt his older, quieter cousin had done a full background check. When it came to family, Aaron was like a dog with a bone. Not always a good thing, but definitely not
a bad thing. Like now.

  He waited until Lora returned from taking Harris’s clothes to his bedroom before asking, “When are you going out?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow?” Shit, that was quick. “Where?”

  “The Marley Rose restaurant.”

  “What time?”

  Lora levelled a stern look on him. “You’re not going to turn up, are you?”

  Jason frowned. “No.”

  “Good. I’m not an idiot, Jason. I might not have gone out with another man since we left Gully’s Fall, but I still have a life.” Arms folded, she regarded him.

  “I know. I know.” He shrugged. “I just…you know, it’s weird.”

  Her expression softened. “It’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”

  “I won’t.” He would.

  “You will.”

  Jason just looked at her.

  Lora smiled. “I’d like you to meet him.”

  Hell yes. “Sure.” That had been his intention all along, to be right here when Jim showed up to date his mother. He managed a cool nod.

  “He’s picking me up at seven o’clock.”

  “I’ll be here.” Half an hour before, in fact.

  Lora walked out, smiling.

  Jason veered into the kitchen to find Aaron pecking away at the laptop on the kitchen table.

  “Before you ask,” Aaron said without lifting his gaze from the screen, “Jim Mason is fifty years old, is the delivery man for several florists, and has a clean law record apart from several driving fines from his twenties. He’s a light drinker, widowed when he was thirty, no kids, has almost payed off his own house in a nice suburb of the city, owns his own car, pays his bills on time, has a small but growing amount of savings, likes a quiet life, prefers picnics to night clubs, and has a dog that is always on time with his vaccination shots and has a clean bill of health at the vet. The dog farted last night.”

  Jason dropped into a chair opposite him. “You made that last part up.”