Live (The Burnside Series): The Burnside Series by Mary Ann Rivers Page B

drive. She was confident accelerating along the on-ramp, merging the limousine into traffic. Her gaze darted from the mirrors to the other cars. He drove, of course, but had never quite felt comfortable on the wrong side of the road, and had only ever really needed to drive in the States. She looked serene while driving, and wise.
    “Yes. Two brothers and a sister. Sam’s the oldest, he’s a doctor. Then there’s Sarah.” She paused then, pressed her lips tight together. Took a breath that made Hefin think she needed it. “Then me, then my little brother PJ. They all live here in Lakefield. Actually, they all live in the same neighborhood we grew up in. We Burnsides are well rooted.”
    “Your mum?”
    “She died when I was almost eight. She’d had this horrible chest cold. It didn’t go away, then it got worse. I think with four kids, it’s hard to find time to get in to the doctor. Dad came in from a late job one night, some corporate party, and found her collapsed in the kitchen; we kids were already in bed. She died a little later in the hospital from a major complication of pneumonia.” Her voice stayed even while she shared this, but her hands got tight on the wheel.
    “I’m sorry, Destiny, that’s hard.”
    She glanced over at him, gave him this small smile that made her seem young. “You know, for some reason, it doesn’t bother me when you call me by my full name. I think it’s your accent.”
    He coughed out a laugh. “Nothing wrong with your name.”
    “A lot to live up to.”
    “Maybe. More likely that destiny just is what it is. Nothing you have to do or live for.”
    She laughed. “Very deep.” She signaled to exit. “You know, I kind of hate talking about my mom. I know I love her, but the older I get, the more the love feels like these really awful and sad memories but it’s just because I can’t remember things as well, and honestly, everything I remember is good things. And I hate it when I try to talk about her and find out from Sam or Sarah that I’ve got it wrong. That I remembered somethingwrong, or wasn’t really there and I’m just remembering someone else’s story or a picture, or something. So then, I don’t want to talk about her at all. I don’t know how much of my mom I have.
    “Ironically, the one thing I do have is her name. Her name was Marie, and I’m Destiny Marie, and Destiny was this name she loved and a total capitulation on my dad’s part because he thought it was hokey. He’s the one who started calling me Des. And now I think the full name is hokey because I lost my mom so young and heard Des a thousand times more than I ever heard myself called Destiny.”
    As the limousine bumped along the access road to the field complex, Hefin took a long drink of tea, hoping the hot sugar and caffeine would go down and find some words for him to say. Because he wanted to say something.
    What she shared, about her mum and dad, about what she had of her mum, well, that was a real thing. It had been so long since he had known some real thing about another person.
    Before he could think too hard, he said, “Maybe I should call you Destiny, then. All the time.”
    She slowed to a stop in front of the main building of the complex. Looked at him as he tried to breathe sense back into his body.
Jesus
. “All the time, huh?”
    “Sure. I think it … Suits you.”
    “How much time is all the time?”
    Oh
. Here was why endless brooding and hardly talking to anyone was an advantage. Less chance of finding yourself square in a corner. “Just … Any of the times I would call you anything. Let’s say.”
    She laughed. “Sure. Let’s say.”
    He took a very long drink of tea, as much good as it was doing him.
    She moved to a parking spot a long ways from the front so she could take two spaces. She still had a kind of wry smile on her face. He’d like to kiss it right off.
    “So, Hefin, what next?” She unsnapped her safety belt and turned full toward him. Her