Starting Over at Blueberry Creek--Includes a bonus novella Page 2

  Brenna gazed at the stack of college applications, just as tempting as that runt doughnut she’d devoured a moment earlier. She had only needed one more year to finish her own degree in childhood education when her parents died. Then she’d dropped out and moved back to Blueberry Creek to care for Eve, who’d been eleven at the time. Brenna had stepped into a guardian role and had taken over her mom’s catering business, working alongside their aunt Thelma. She’d put everything on hold for the last seven years, telling herself all the while that she’d start living her own life again once Eve was eighteen.

  Even though Eve had turned eighteen this past fall, she still needed Brenna, whether she knew it or not. Sometimes Eve made poor decisions, and when it was her turn to watch the catering business, like today, she slacked off on her responsibilities.

  Brenna nibbled on her lower lip. “Eve is fine,” she said out loud. “It’ll just make her mad if I show up.”

  And it was time for Brenna to let go and focus on her own life.

  Brenna tapped her fingers on the counter, trying to talk herself out of going downtown to check on her little sister. Unable to resist, she grabbed her keys and headed out the front door. She glanced over at the little yellow house next door and suppressed another impulse—this one to walk back over and snatch back her welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.

  Chapter Two

  Brenna reversed out of her driveway and drove toward A Taste of Heaven, just around the corner from the downtown strip of quaint little stores on Silver Lake.

  After a short drive, she pulled into the parking lot and sat in her car for a moment. Maybe she should take a walk downtown. Perhaps she could do a little shopping. It’d been a while since she’d had a day off. She could even go to Perfectly Pampered and get a haircut or a pedicure.

  Instead, she pushed open the door of her navy blue Honda CR-V and headed toward the back entrance of A Taste of Heaven. As she stepped through the door, the dense air immediately made her cough and the smoke detector started to shriek.

  Brenna blinked past the sudden sting in her eyes, and her heart catapulted into her throat. “Eve?…Eve!” Heart racing, she hurried toward the kitchen and located the smoke’s culprit. One of the three convection ovens along the wall had charcoal-colored puffs coming out of the back vents.

  Brenna yanked open the oven door, allowing more smoke to bloom toward her face, which only elicited more coughing. Then she snatched a mitt from the counter and pulled a tray of burned biscuits out, stashing them on the stove top. “Shh-shh,” she said, using the mitt to fan the air in front of the smoke detector. “Please stop.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Brenna whirled to face Eve, pulling the mitt down to her side as if she’d been caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar. She hadn’t done anything wrong by coming here though. And it was a good thing she’d shown up when she had. “I’m keeping the business from burning down,” she shouted to be heard over the alarm. “Where’s Aunt Thelma?”

  Eve shoved her hands on her hips. “Aunt Thelma called and said she was running late this morning.”

  “Where’s Nate?” Brenna asked then.

  Nate Trapp was a new hire. He could follow a recipe well enough, and he had a mind for business, which was a plus. He also helped with deliveries and setup.

  “He went to deliver the spread to the men’s breakfast at Sweetwater Chapel.”

  Right. Aunt Thelma usually handled that, but since she was out, Nate would have taken on the task.

  “Don’t worry. Nate and I cooked the eggs, grits, and bacon. But we forgot the biscuits.” Eve gestured at the oven. Her long red hair was pulled up in a messy bun at her nape. She’d gotten the full lot of their father’s Irish features, unlike Brenna who’d only gotten the sprinkle of pale freckles on her nose. Brenna had gotten her black hair and brown eyes from their mom, making her and Eve look as different as their personalities.

  “Great,” Brenna huffed. “The men’s group love their biscuits and now they’ll be disappointed. And thanks to all this commotion, Mrs. Roberts is probably calling the fire department from next door as we speak.”

  Eve rolled her eyes as the smoke detector finally stopped. “Yeah well, Mrs. Roberts is slightly neurotic. A lot like you.” She cocked her head to one side and narrowed her pale-green eyes at Brenna.

  Brenna stiffened. “Do you think this is funny?”

  “The fact that my sister doesn’t trust me with the job she begged me to do? No. It’s a little insulting, actually.”

  “You fill our shop with smoke, and now you’re giving me the guilt trip?” Brenna shook her head but the guilt trip had worked. Her insides twisted uncomfortably because she should have let Eve run the shop without interfering. She knew that, just like she knew she needed to apologize and leave right now before this argument gained momentum.

  “It’s not our shop. I don’t want it. It’s yours.” Eve pulled her apron off and flung it on the butcher-block-style counter behind her.

  Too late.

  “Looks like you’re no longer taking the day off so I will. Bye, sis.” Eve headed toward the back entrance where Brenna had entered only a few minutes earlier.

  “Wait!” Brenna called. “I’m not working today!”

  “Should’ve thought of that before you drove here to mother me,” Eve called behind her. “I mean smother me.” She slammed the back door behind her.

  Brenna sighed as she reached for the apron that Eve had discarded and pulled it over her head, preparing to make a new batch of biscuits. Even though the apron was light, it felt like a shackle weighing her down.

  * * *

  Luke glanced over at Brenna’s house as he cranked the truck’s engine and reversed out of his driveway. Guilt pinched under the Sweetwater Springs Fire Department logo on the chest of his T-shirt about the way he’d treated her. He didn’t deserve the doughnuts she’d brought him, which was why he was bringing the rest to the station.

  The crew would appreciate it. They were all young and endlessly hungry, a lot like a bunch of high school boys. When Luke had interviewed for the assistant fire chief position six months ago, he’d been intimidated to step into an authoritative role as the new guy. A few of the guys had given him a hard time at first, and one still did most days.

  He drove a short distance and then parked behind the firehouse.

  “You’re thirty seconds late,” Chief Brewer called from his office as Luke walked in with Max matching every step.

  Luke lifted the box of treats. “I come bearing food.”

  “Forgiven.” The chief stood and followed Luke and Max to the small kitchen behind the garage, where Luke laid the box on the table. The chief looked at it for a long moment. “Made with love.” His gaze jumped back to Luke. “By Brenna McConnell, I presume.”

  “A welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift,” Luke explained.

  “You moved here five months ago,” Chief Brewer pointed out, just like Luke had to Brenna herself.

  “I know. I guess neither of us made an attempt to get to know one another.” Or actually Brenna had on multiple occasions but Luke had dodged those efforts.

  “I worked with her father, you know,” Chief Brewer said, leaning against the counter along the wall.

  Luke had already gathered that bit of information and had seen the pictures of Aidan McConnell on what Chief Brewer called his wall of fame, a space dedicated to honoring all the firefighters who’d come and gone at the Sweetwater Springs Fire Department.

  “I was the first one on the scene of her parents’ accident too,” Chief Brewer added.

  Luke hadn’t learned that tidbit yet. “What happened to her parents?”

  He only had to see Chief Brewer’s expression to know that whatever happened had ended badly.

  “Accident on Forest Grove. Her mom was driving and had to pull over because of a migraine. She called Aidan, who was working that day. It wasn’t a fire department call, just a family emergency, so he was the only
one who went. When Aidan arrived, he told his daughter to climb into the cab of his truck. Then he tended to his wife.” Chief Brewer paused before finishing the story. “An oncoming vehicle hit Jane’s car a moment later. It didn’t even slow down.”

  A sick feeling blanketed the bottom of Luke’s stomach. “They both died?”

  “Yep. Fortunately, Eve was safe in Aidan’s truck. Not unscathed though. She saw everything. As you can imagine, there was a degree of lashing out after that.”

  “That’s awful. Where was Brenna?” Luke asked.

  Chief Brewer grabbed a doughnut from the box on the table. “She was grown and living on her own by then. After the accident, she came back to Sweetwater Springs to care for Eve.” He bit into the doughnut and shook his head as he chewed and swallowed. “Those girls are like family to me. I was good friends with their dad. He’d want me to grill you if you’re thinking about dating his oldest daughter.”

  “Don’t worry about me, sir. I’m not interested in anything romantic.”

  Chief Brewer clapped a hand on his back. “I’m not sure how their father would feel about his baby girl volunteering with us either. I’m sure that possibility never even crossed his mind. But I must say, Eve is determined and a big help on the scenes.”

  The more Luke thought and talked about the McConnell women, the more he regretted being so abrupt with Brenna earlier. She was only being friendly but he was so guarded when it came to beautiful neighbors now.

  Maybe he’d go apologize after his shift. He didn’t need to roll out his welcome mat to everyone who lived on the creek, but if he planned on staying in Sweetwater Springs, he guessed it was smart to be in the good graces of the people who lived directly beside him.

  “It’s my shift,” Luke said, returning his attention to his boss. “What are you still doing here?”

  Chief Brewer shrugged. “My wife is upset with me. I can’t seem to do anything right these days. Sometimes the station is my home away from home.” He chuckled softly. “Anyway, I don’t want to step on your toes.”

  Luke shifted restlessly, eager to get started on the list of things to do today. “You should take up a hobby that’ll get you out of the house.”

  “Maybe so. I’ve never been one of those guys who can spend their day at the golf course. Not sure what other hobbies I’d pick up. Maybe fishing.” He looked at Luke. “Anyway, don’t take any flak from Ryan today, all right?”

  Ryan Johnson was a young firefighter with an attitude. He didn’t want to do his chores around the firehouse but he was a skilled firefighter. When the adrenaline hit his veins, he became a different version of himself.

  “You should have a sit-down with him. Being a firefighter is more than working the scenes. It’s also about what happens behind the scenes.”

  Chief Brewer chuckled. “Oh, I’ve talked to him more times than I care to count. Believe it or not, his attitude has improved since he first started working here. Can’t expect someone to change overnight. He didn’t have the best upbringing, you know.”

  Luke knew that Ryan’s dad was in jail. If you considered that, the young firefighter’s poor attitude was a minor complication. He kept an honest job and stayed out of trouble. Luke certainly understood the heavy weight of carrying your past on your shoulders. “I’ll keep an eye on him today.”

  Chief Brewer bent and patted Max’s head for a long moment, his tone of voice growing soft. “You’re the best firehouse dog we’ve ever had. The bravest one too.”

  “He’s the only dog the station has ever had, right?” Luke asked.

  “Doesn’t make that statement any less true.” Chief Brewer straightened. “Well, I guess it’s time for me to go home and make nice with my wife. Maybe I’ll stop by A Taste of Heaven and see if I can get something of Brenna’s that’s made with love.”

  “Not a bad strategy,” Luke said.

  “Take notes. One of these days you’ll be in my shoes.”

  Not anytime soon, and not with Brenna McConnell. Although Luke did intend to make a point of being friendlier to his beautiful neighbor the next time he saw her.

  * * *

  Exhausted, Brenna unlocked her front door and stepped inside later that night. As she walked down the hall, she found Eve exercising in the front room. She was watching someone on TV pound drumsticks on the ground and then in the air. Brenna thought she remembered the aerobic activity being called Pound. She remembered because it reminded her of pound cake, which she only baked on Thursdays for Mrs. Hoveland’s bunco group.

  As Brenna walked into the kitchen, she breathed in the aroma of a myriad of spices coming from the Crock-Pot meal she’d set up when she’d woken early this morning.

  Eve stopped drumming the air and walked around to prop her elbows on the kitchen counter and stare at Brenna.

  “How was your day?” Brenna asked.

  “Boring.”

  Brenna decided not to mention that it wouldn’t have been if she’d stayed and worked the kitchen. Instead she pulled down two plates for dinner. “Well, my day was fine too. Thanks for asking.”

  “I didn’t ask,” Eve said dryly.

  “It’s called sarcasm. You know it well.” Brenna scooped the chicken and vegetables onto the clay plates her mom had cherished once upon a time. She’d purchased them from a local pottery artist in the valley, and she’d loved serving meals on them back when they’d been a complete family with a mom, dad, and two kids.

  Those memories seemed so far away and that family seemed so different from the small duo that existed now.

  When Eve didn’t respond, Brenna continued talking. “We catered the men’s breakfast at the chapel, as you know. I made some more biscuits, and Nate ran them over once he got back. Then we did an impromptu hospital event at lunch. We also had a few potential clients walk in and inquire about booking their upcoming events with us. It was a good day.”

  Brenna swallowed as another memory of her mother during the evenings growing up played in her mind. Every night, her dad would ask their mom how her day was, and she’d answer the same way every time. Those same words rose in Brenna’s throat and tumbled over her lips, bittersweet as she reminisced. “Everyone was happier when they left than when they walked in.”

  Eve huffed. “I’m happier when I leave a room with you too.”

  Brenna froze. Her large wooden spoon dripped hot chicken gravy to the plate below, making a mess, but she didn’t care. Her blood pressure was no doubt spiking because she was seeing starbursts in her field of vision. With an aggravated growl, she tossed down the spoon with a clunk against the plate.

  Eve straightened. “Sorry,” she said but her tone didn’t sound at all sincere.

  “Do you know how hard I’ve worked since Mom and Dad died? I quit college, gave up the life I was planning, and moved back here for you. I’ve cleaned house and cooked dinner and helped you through middle and high school. I lost my fiancé in order to be your guardian.”

  Eve didn’t even bat an eyelash. “I didn’t ask you to do any of that.”

  Brenna’s mouth dropped open. “You’re my sister. You didn’t have to ask. But I would think you’d have a little appreciation. I’m tired of your ungrateful, uncaring attitude toward me…I’m sick and tired.”

  “Well, I’m tired of how overbearing and controlling you are. You’re always trying to run my life. Get your own life!” Eve shot back.

  “What?” Brenna asked.

  “You used to be my fun, older sister. Now you’re just…” Eve shook her head. “You’re no fun to be around at all.” She looked pleased with herself for saying something she knew would hurt Brenna.

  It did hurt. Brenna looked around the kitchen, suddenly desperate for some kind of release. Something that would make her feel better. Her gaze landed on the basket of fruit on the counter in front of her.

  Apples are too hard…ditto with the oranges.

  Finally, she lifted a banana from the basket and peeled it with shaky fingers.

  “W
hat are you doing?” Eve asked in a mocking tone.

  “Being a sister,” Brenna said, her voice trembling. She knew the thoughts running through her head were wrong. Eve was an adult now, that was true, but barely. And Eve was just in pain and taking it out on Brenna, just like she’d done for the last seven years. It was natural. Expected even.

  But Brenna was in pain too. She still missed her family. And most of all, she missed her sister who was standing right in front of her.

  Brenna broke a piece off the banana, pulled her arm back, and launched the piece across the room.

  “Hey!” Eve squealed, barely dodging the flying fruit.

  Brenna broke another piece of banana off and repeated her action. This was completely irrational—she knew it—and it felt incredible.

  Eve ducked. “Have you lost your mind? Are you crazy?” Eve took several retreating steps, which was probably wise because Brenna had another half of a banana left, and she planned to use it. In fact, there was a full bunch in the basket.

  She should do this more often. It felt amazing.

  “Stop it, Brenna!” Eve demanded.

  Brenna froze, her arm in the air, a piece of banana primed. “Will you sit at the table and eat dinner with me tonight?”

  Eve’s lips pinched. “After you threw banana at me? No way. I’m calling Aunt Thelma and telling her that you’ve gone off the deep end.”

  Brenna dropped her arm down by her side. “We don’t need to bother Aunt Thelma with our problems.”

  “I don’t have a problem. You do.” Eve grabbed her bag and marched toward the front door. “Enjoy eating your dinner alone,” she said as she slammed the front screen door behind her.

  Brenna stared after her sister for a long moment, her eyes burning and the banana still in her hand. It was squishing out of the peel now because she’d squeezed the life out of it. The same way everything seemed to be squeezing the life out of her, and had been for a long time.