Read Online Bringing Delaney Home (Cates Brothers #1) by Lee Kilraine - Free Book Online
Authors: Lee Kilraine
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Trying to make it through each day as it came was how she’d ended up alone in her apartment with only PBS and a bottle of cabernet to keep her company. When the stress, failures, pain, and nightmares became overwhelming, she withdrew. It was safer. She hadn’t been living the last few months, not really. It was more like existing defensively. Treading water beat sinking any day. “I’ll figure something out. Thanks for fitting me in before your first patient arrives.”
“Well, that’s when we fit in all our patients who have secrets to keep. Take some pain medication, because you might be a little more sore today. And don’t skip lunch. I’ll be home to help with supper.”
Yes, Greer. Whatever you say, Greer .
A few hours later, after trying to zone out to Sesame Street and, when that failed, soak in the tub, Delaney wandered aimlessly from room to room in the small house. It was surprising how neat the house was. It almost didn’t look lived in, but it had never felt like a cozy home and maybe that was the vibe she couldn’t shake. She was pretty sure she still hated it even though Greer had painted the rooms bright, sunshiny colors.
For her, the rooms of the house had absorbed all the ugliness of her parents’ dysfunction. She could still hear her father’s angry yelling and painful name-calling echoing off the walls. Her mother’s form a psychic shadow blending into the dark corners where she had perfected avoiding her husband’s attention, often sacrificing her daughters to the path of his anger.
Nervous energy had her poking around the house. She found her old fishing rod in the storage closet next to the pantry. Delaney ran her hand lightly up the delicate, flexible end, where a faded plastic bob dangled loosely with no hook in sight. A quick glance around the closet found her tackle box on the floor behind the vacuum cleaner. Sure enough, she opened it to find it semi-stocked. Heck, she was probably the last one to open it eight years ago. Back in high school, fishing and running had been her two escapes. She ignored the twist of her gut at the thought of running. At least she still had fishing, and just like in high school it would get her out of this darn house before the walls closed in around her.
She drove her Jeep to Parker’s Creek over on Big Pine Road. It wasn’t far and no one used the road much since it dead ended after a few houses. Parking on the shoulder of the road just before the bridge, she took her time getting out her folding canvas chair and small cooler. The steep descent down to the bank of the creek made her choose an alternate location for fishing. The bridge would be fine today. The bridge didn’t actually have a name, but as long as Delaney could remember, everyone had called it Baxter Bridge since both Mr. Baxter and his son, Junior, lived in the only two houses on the other side.
Once settled in her chair with her shoes propped on her cooler, she began threading new fishing line under the line roller and through all the guides along the pole. She took her time attaching a new hook with the only knot she had mastered, the cinch knot.
She had stopped by Lonnie’s Bait and Tackle Shop for some new line. Just like when she was in high school, the shop still had a group of cheap plastic tables where the old-timers sat over coffee and fishing stories. Lonnie had recommended a new bob and she’d raised a few eyebrows when she’d walked right by the bait bucket. By lunch, everyone in Climax would know her shocking fishing habits. But why bother to bait the hook when her goal wasn’t to catch a fish? It had never been about the fish. It had always been about finding a few hours of peace.
Speaking of peace, she’d made the mistake of asking about the best knot for tying a hook. That was when chaos had erupted. Whoa, who knew knots were so controversial? She’d slipped quietly from the shop as the “great knot debate” raged.
Once her rod and reel were ready,
“Well, that’s when we fit in all our patients who have secrets to keep. Take some pain medication, because you might be a little more sore today. And don’t skip lunch. I’ll be home to help with supper.”
Yes, Greer. Whatever you say, Greer .
A few hours later, after trying to zone out to Sesame Street and, when that failed, soak in the tub, Delaney wandered aimlessly from room to room in the small house. It was surprising how neat the house was. It almost didn’t look lived in, but it had never felt like a cozy home and maybe that was the vibe she couldn’t shake. She was pretty sure she still hated it even though Greer had painted the rooms bright, sunshiny colors.
For her, the rooms of the house had absorbed all the ugliness of her parents’ dysfunction. She could still hear her father’s angry yelling and painful name-calling echoing off the walls. Her mother’s form a psychic shadow blending into the dark corners where she had perfected avoiding her husband’s attention, often sacrificing her daughters to the path of his anger.
Nervous energy had her poking around the house. She found her old fishing rod in the storage closet next to the pantry. Delaney ran her hand lightly up the delicate, flexible end, where a faded plastic bob dangled loosely with no hook in sight. A quick glance around the closet found her tackle box on the floor behind the vacuum cleaner. Sure enough, she opened it to find it semi-stocked. Heck, she was probably the last one to open it eight years ago. Back in high school, fishing and running had been her two escapes. She ignored the twist of her gut at the thought of running. At least she still had fishing, and just like in high school it would get her out of this darn house before the walls closed in around her.
She drove her Jeep to Parker’s Creek over on Big Pine Road. It wasn’t far and no one used the road much since it dead ended after a few houses. Parking on the shoulder of the road just before the bridge, she took her time getting out her folding canvas chair and small cooler. The steep descent down to the bank of the creek made her choose an alternate location for fishing. The bridge would be fine today. The bridge didn’t actually have a name, but as long as Delaney could remember, everyone had called it Baxter Bridge since both Mr. Baxter and his son, Junior, lived in the only two houses on the other side.
Once settled in her chair with her shoes propped on her cooler, she began threading new fishing line under the line roller and through all the guides along the pole. She took her time attaching a new hook with the only knot she had mastered, the cinch knot.
She had stopped by Lonnie’s Bait and Tackle Shop for some new line. Just like when she was in high school, the shop still had a group of cheap plastic tables where the old-timers sat over coffee and fishing stories. Lonnie had recommended a new bob and she’d raised a few eyebrows when she’d walked right by the bait bucket. By lunch, everyone in Climax would know her shocking fishing habits. But why bother to bait the hook when her goal wasn’t to catch a fish? It had never been about the fish. It had always been about finding a few hours of peace.
Speaking of peace, she’d made the mistake of asking about the best knot for tying a hook. That was when chaos had erupted. Whoa, who knew knots were so controversial? She’d slipped quietly from the shop as the “great knot debate” raged.
Once her rod and reel were ready,
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