Chapter 4
Memphis Creed was the craw that stuck in his neck. A creature of habit, he rose at dawn on Saturday, made himself an enormous breakfast and ate it on the balcony, washing it down with some strong coffee. Sleep had been of the restless sort. That night of the castration intertwined with the guilt over sanctioning Ransom.
They wanted justice for their sister. It should have been handled differently, but they were young and strident. Ransom had taken it too far, possibly putting a target on their backs even though their quarry had no idea who had punished him. Mom could have been caught in the crossfire. Torch River was a small town, so the details could have leaked out. Right or wrong, they put it all on Ransom and banished him.
The current moved lazily along the edge of his property—land he purchased in his early twenties—on which he constructed a house from the ground up, faced with his share of mistakes and learning throughout the process. He also focused on resolving his anger, examining his motives, and making decisions about his future.
When completed, his home represented him—a simple man who enjoyed nature and the peace it gave him. Whereas the shop allowed him a creative outlet and a decent livelihood outside of the brewery and his other investments, the house was a retreat. His family was welcome and visited regularly, but the women he had casual relationships with were not. He fucked them at their places or outside somewhere and left afterward.
True intimacy was elusive. The many placements, abuse, and betrayals during his early childhood created a skeptical man.
Daphne was his last placement.
He remembered that day with clarity—the slant of the summer sun and the abundant colorful gardens bordering the large rambling river house with its wraparound porch and spacious wooded property. A large tire swing hung from a massive bough in the side yard. Nearby were a number of bikes laying on their sides. An enormous sandbox was beyond that.
She greeted him after he passed through the wrought iron gate. Tiny and dark-haired, her smile reflected in the warm brown eyes when she looked up, not at all intimidated by his scowl and large size for an eleven-year-old. “Welcome home, Javier. You’re right where you need to be. You’re staying, even though you’ll try to prove to me that you shouldn’t.” She extended a hand but didn’t touch him. “Come with me. The kids are having a snack. Are you hungry?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Daphne is fine, Javier. The kids are excited to meet you. Let’s get some food in you, and then show you your room.”
He learned to smile, laugh, and engage, and speak his mind without retribution. Always hungry but no longer fearing a tongue lashing or a beating, he asked for second and third helpings at meals. He kept his room spotless and looked for ways to repay his foster mom’s kindnesses. A tinkerer at heart, he fixed plumbing issues and made repairs. Her thanks were accompanied by a shoulder squeeze or ruffling his hair.
In time, he leaned in, seeking her approval and her insight. He called her mom and began to believe he mattered and belonged, but total trust was fragile. Daphne, Sammi, Rose, Stone, and Ransom were the only recipients, the only people he had confidence in.
Ransom shredded his trust that night on Refuge Island. Or had he? Had they set him up by agreeing to the castration? Had they set in motion the other things that followed?
We did. Fuck.He slammed the mug on the wrought iron rail, spilling coffee over his hand. He licked it off, mulling over how Ransom’s daughter made him see that long-ago-night in a new light. A night no one ever talked about.
Distraught, he had almost left Torch River when Ransom was banished but decided otherwise. Mom was recuperating from foot surgery and needed all sorts of assistance. And he also wanted to be around in case word of what had happened got back to the Narrows.
She never mentioned it. Did she know? He suspected as much, but in true Daphne form, she would play along like she didn’t and patiently wait for the truth to come out. It always did. This story had been buried for decades though, as far as they knew. How would she react?
Despite Mom helping him soften the rough edges, he was hardwired to not share too much for fear of being hurt, he remained unattached. But lonesomeness was setting in at his age.
Javier swigged down the last of the coffee and went inside, depositing his dishes in the sink. The need to hop on his Hog was strong. He stripped out of the joggers, pulled on sweat-wicking briefs and summer gear, and headed out to his bike, eager to eat up the miles. To escape the thoughts and big feelings closing in.
The problem was that his mind traveled with him, and the guilt did not subside. Fuck it.
Five miles south of the Narrows, he made a U-turn and headed to the bakery. It was early. Chocolate eclairs would still be available. He would head to Daphne’s, knowing full well she would see the treats as a sign that he needed to bare his soul. Even if he got cold feet, just being in her presence would be comforting. After all this time, Mom helped him keep his head on straight. She was the mother of his heart and conscience.
* * *
Memphis knocked again. A shiny, newer big-ass black truck was parked in the yard under a large oak. There was no drive. She parked the GTO behind the truck and approached the impressive post and beam house. It was a surprise after being at his shop and seeing him at the Wake. She expected a lot less.
He had to be home. It was seven-thirty on a Saturday morning. Quiet. Maybe Javier Cabrera had an overnight guest, and they were still asleep, or going at it. She knew his full name now and where he lived, having asked the same nice woman at the diner yesterday, and was happy that she had found the man Pops wanted her to talk to.
She closed her eyes, imagining it was her underneath him as he pumped into her, then opened them, gasping and flushing. What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t go for older guys and I’m not here for that. Yes, you are.
She ordered rosemary-honey scones and two coffees-to-go at the diner instead of having breakfast there, hoping to catch him and talk. A peace offering for getting off on the wrong foot and a thank you for the ride back to the inn last night. That ride, though short, jettisoned all sorts of naughty vignettes into her sleep—of her and him in the sheets, the river, and the woods.
Memphis was exhausted and horny as hell.
She knocked again. Frustrated by no answer, she walked the wraparound porch, her jaw dropping when she reached the back. The view was stunning. She dropped into one of the chairs at the table and decided to enjoy a scone and coffee. Where he lived was so peaceful. A haven. Who would ever have guessed that the handsome surly dude had it in him to live in such incredible surroundings? She could live here and never look back.
Memphis lost track of time was getting ready to help herself to the other coffee when she heard footsteps.
“Javi?” A woman’s voice called.
Oh shit.She was caught red-handed making herself totally at home. What had she been thinking? She stood abruptly, then froze, unsure where to scuttle off to and came face-to-face with a petite, very fit older woman with a new-age vibe.
“Well, good morning. Seems I’m interrupting my son’s morning. But I’m here.” The white-headed woman settled in another chair. “You are?”
“Memphis, ma’am.”
“Nice to make your acquaintance. I apologize for the assumption. Frankly, I was surprised. He’s never brought a woman here.”
How does she know that?“I didn’t catch your name.”
“I’m Daphne. Kayce. I was up early and thought I’d surprise Javi and have coffee. Talk. How do you know my son?”
Her son? “Your son?”
“Yes. Well, Javi allowed me to claim him as such. I fostered him and his brothers and sister. I raised them with my daughter Samantha. She goes by Sammi or Sam.”
“I met Sammi last night. She’s very nice. Would you like this scone? It’s from Daphne’s Din— Is that your place?” Memphis needed time to process all of this. She had landed right in the thick of her father’s family.
“It used to be. My daughter Rose has it now. I’d love a scone. Left hungry. Are you going to drink that coffee?”
“No ma’am. I brought it for Javier, but it seems he isn’t here. I wandered back and lost all sense of time.” She glanced out at the river and back at Daphne. “The view …” she said, as an explanation.
“Yes, I understand about losing time. It’s pure solitude here. Javi showed me this property and his plans after he bought it. I watched him build his home.” Daphne swept her hand in a large arc. “All of this had been good for him.” She sipped her coffee, watching Memphis with interest. “How do you know him?”
“I don’t really. I arrived in Torch River yesterday.”
“That pretty Goat with the Texas tags is yours?” Few referred to a GTO by its affectionate nickname given by muscle car enthusiasts.
“It was my father’s. He had it restored. I helped him work on it.”
“Was it always red?”
“From what I understand. He bought it the year he turned sixteen. Came across it at?—”
“McCamey’s Garage.” Daphne finished, nodding sagely, and wearing a wide smile. Her eyes watered. “He loved working there. He was so excited about that bucket of rust. He wanted one like the one I had when he was younger. The other kids teased him, but he told them, ‘Just you wait.’”
“Yes.” Memphis blinked rapidly at the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.
Daphne grasped Memphis’s hand across the table and squeezed it. “Tell me about my Ransom. He up and disappeared one day. My heart hasn’t been the same since. How is he?”