A Promise for Her Love (6 page)

 

 

Elaina Lee
lives in the Deep South with her husband and their two boys, ages three and fifteen. Elaina began writing at a young age, when a teacher brought to her attention books didn't write themselves.
In 2011 her debut novel titled
Written in Blood
won the Golden Rose Award for Best Romantic Suspense.
Her other titles include,
First Kiss, To Urn Her Love, A Very Southern Affair
and her latest release,
A Promise for Her Love.

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

Caylie Abrams blew a chunk of blonde hair from her eyes and tried to position the overstuffed paper bag on her hip. Where the heck was her brother when she needed him? The windows were wide open, and her front door probably unlocked; he surely heard her pull into the drive. She'd only texted him eight times before pulling in, informing him she needed help with the food he'd eat before she had a chance to.

Knee lifted, she attempted to balance the bag on her thigh while she reached for the trunk. Even with her fingers stretched as far as they could reach, the tips just touched the edge of the door. The muscles in her face bunched together and she reached a little further. She'd grasped just enough to pull down the trunk when the bag teetered, toppling over and spilling oranges, eggs, and bread onto her drive. Seething anger rolled inside her chest as her teeth clenched. Great! Perfect. Absolutely wonderful.

For a second she considered throwing the entire bag onto the ground; almost everything was ruined anyway. But she still had some good food left, and she didn't have any money to waste. The oranges were still salvageable, the bread maybe. She set the bag on the now closed trunk, took a deep breath and then knelt and gathered oranges. A passing car squished one her precious oranges in the road, and another attempt at calming herself failed. Well, she certainly wouldn't be going without citrus. Kyle could be the one to forgo his morning fruit.

She threw the remaining oranges in the sack, her gaze continuing to go to the flattened one in the road; it's juicy guts splattered over asphalt. With a final huff, she snatched the end of the lopsided loaf of bread and stood. Six more months and she wouldn't have to deal with this crap anymore. Kyle would officially be an adult, have to fend for himself, go to school, get a job, find a home. Of course, she was dreaming. Most kids stayed at home for a year, maybe more. But she could hope. Perhaps he wouldn't be like most kids; he'd be like her and wish to spread his wings the second he could.

On the narrow walkway to the small porch, she balanced the paper sack on her left hip, while the bread swung in her right hand. The heavy click of her heels up the stairs accompanied her angry exhales. "Kyle!" she shouted before she reached the door, knowing he could hear through the open windows. "Kyle, open the door!"

Thirty seconds later, she still waited. She pounded the tip of her heel into the door and screamed for her brother a third time. Nothing. Darn him! Carefully she set the bag down and then dug in her pocket for keys. Her eyes widened in alarm. Her heart began to pound. Where were her keys! She dropped the bread and searched her other pocket only to find it empty. Oh no, no, no, no! She jogged down the steps to her car.

A quick yank on the handle found it locked, and with sinking shoulders, she shaded the window with cupped hands and saw the keys resting on the seat. They must have fallen out of her pocket. Tears welled in her eyes. She couldn't afford to pay a locksmith to come unlock her car. However, she also couldn't miss a day of work. She'd have to figure something out.

Dejected, she dragged herself back to the porch. The door opened and Kyle's head popped out. Disheveled sandy-blond hair hung into his eyes and almost covered his ears. She wished that mop he thought was a style completely covered his ears, so she wouldn't have to see the ugly holes he'd marred his body with that he considered cool.

"Hey sis, whatcha doin'? Was that you knocking?"

"Yes, it was me," she bit out.

"I was kicking some orc butt. Sorry, didn't hear you."

"That's okay. I just spilt the groceries and locked my keys in the car."

"What?" His eyes widened and he shoved past her down the stairs. Sighing, she picked up the bag, not in the mood for the teenage tantrum that was about to erupt. They only had one car.

Inside was just barely cooler than out, air not a necessity yet. When the thermometer broke ninety outside, she'd turn the air conditioner on, but until then, they'd deal. They always did.

A new stack of bills waited on the counter. Dryness in her throat made it hard to swallow. How many would she have to put in the 'Can Wait' pile this month? She had a few months left on Kyle's social security. After that her bills, and her parents, would become her burden to solely bear. Shaking her head, she began to unload the groceries. She couldn't think about that right now.

The door slammed and she pretended as if she'd heard nothing. Footsteps pounded up the stairs, paused, and then came thundering back down. "How am I supposed to get to school tomorrow?"

She shrugged and placed the remaining oranges in the hanging fruit basket. "I don't know. Call a friend or take the bus."

"How are you going to get to work?"

"Call a friend or take the bus, I suppose."

"Caylie..." he whined, his shoulders swooping low before he slumped onto a bar stool.

"Look," she bit out, her teeth grinding together, "I can't help the keys are stuck in the car, and unless you have a hundred bucks to pay someone to come out and pop my lock, we have to figure out other ways to get around, at least until payday."

"Jonah can come out," he offered. He grabbed an apple from the basket and then proceeded to roll it between in his hands. "He knows how to get into cars and stuff."

"You mean he's a car thief? You're hanging out with thieves?" Alarm made her chest tighten, but she'd learned long ago not to freak out. The teenage emotional scale was sensitive to others. The slightest variation could have disastrous consequences. So she tried to act concerned, yet disapproving.

"Not really hang out... we're just friends. But I know he'd do it."

For a split second, she actually considered his offer. Free and probably more professional than someone she'd pay. But then she'd be giving a troubled teen validation and experience he didn't need. She shook her head and unloaded boxes of noodles and rice into the cupboard. "No, that's not right or okay. We'll just have to make do."

"Come on, you know we can't ride the bus for two weeks. That's hours of wasted time."

"It's the perfect opportunity for you to get caught up on your work. You'll have nothing better to do, will you?"

"And what about your work? You don't have hours to throw away."

"I don't do that work for pay but for hobby. I can take the lost time."

"You should do it for pay, Caylie, you're so good!"

She shook her head and folded the bag down. "I couldn't. That's my heart and soul in those sculptures. I couldn't stand for someone to hate them or to even place a value on them."

"I've looked... you could get over three hundred for each."

For each little dragon, gnome or fairy she could get almost as much as she made in a week? She blinked. "Where did you see that?"

He leaned forward, and the apple stopped rolling. "I did a search. There are a ton of people selling those types of things and none even come close to how good yours are. They look real, like they'll come to life if you stare at them long enough. All these people—" He blew a raspberry. "I've seen cartoon drawings that looked better. And they were selling as fast as they could post them on the sites."

"For three hundred dollars?"

"Yep, which means you could charge more if you wanted."

Caylie chewed her lip. "I'll think about it, okay?"

He hopped off the stool so fast she jumped, her hand flew to her chest. "I have something for you."

"For me? What?"

He flashed a grin, one that showed her why he was always single with a different girl on his arm each week. "I'll go get it, just wait here."

As she waited, she didn't know whether to be excited or concerned. The last time Kyle gave her a 'gift', she'd had to feed and potty train it until she found the critter a home. Something she still carried guilt over. And while she could have afforded to feed the cat, kitty litter, shots and inevitable vet bills were a different story. Hopefully this present didn't breathe.