Gil accepted the phone, looked down at the suspect’s picture. He swallowed hard, blinking as he recognized the familiar face of the boy in the image of the man.
“Gil?” Luke frowned. “You know him?”
Gil had always thought this day would come; the time for keeping his father’s secrets was over. Now it was up to Gil to trust someone with the truth.
Beginning with Sheriff Luke Saxon.
“Gil?” Luke said again.
“Yes, I know him.” Gil took a deep breath and then said, “That’s my half brother.”
* * *
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The Secret Santa Project
by Carol Ross
CHAPTER ONE
On a good day, texting was only slightly more tolerable than a visit to the dentist. So composing this particular message was more like a root canal without the Novocain. Cricket analyzed what he had so far.
Hey, can you give me a call when you have a minute? I’d like to chat.
No, that didn’t sound right. They weren’t besties meeting for lunch. Deleted chat. Added talk. Rearranged.
Any chance you could give me a call? I’d like to talk to you about something important.
Hmm. Talk might imply that he wanted to have a conversation. Like a heart-to-heart with sentences that included I feel or what I’m hearing you say is... Never a good thing, and definitely not the goal here. Especially with the way his last encounter with Hazel had gone. Even now, the memory of what had happened in Florida made his stomach churn with the hot acid of regret. That didn’t mean Cricket wanted to talk about it, though.
For reasons known only to his deceased mother, Lynette, Cricket had been dubbed Jiminy Malcolm Blackburn at birth. According to his father, Frank, she’d barely lived long enough to fill in the name on his birth certificate. He also maintained that they’d previously agreed on David Malcolm, but she’d changed it at the last second, and who was he to argue with a woman who’d just suffered through untold agony giving birth to his child? If Frank’s tale could even be believed. Cricket’s older brother, Lee, had been too young to remember any of these details.
Regardless, growing up with a famous cartoon insect as his namesake could have set the stage for a rough childhood. And likely would have if his surname hadn’t already ensured as much. Blackburn was a true badge of dishonor in the small town of Rankins, Alaska, where he’d grown up.
Years of staying out of trouble had managed to fade the stigma somewhat, but with a criminal con man for a father and a thief for a brother, it was always there. Lurking like a shark beneath the surface, waiting for the next opportunity to strike. And frequently, a story about yet another scam or theft or arrest would arise and unleash the gossip monster all over again. Cricket often imagined he could feel the less charitable townsfolk watching, waiting, wondering how far the apple had truly fallen from the tree.
A lifetime of weathering this fallout had made Cricket extremely cautious. He trusted very few people. It was a tricky balance trying to keep a low profile while fostering a positive reputation in a community this size. He’d learned at a very young age that words, once spoken, could never be taken back. Texting, in his opinion, was even worse than talking; phrases were misconstrued, statements spun. Every mistake or misstep indelibly recorded.
Bringing him back to his current dilemma. Hazel. He’d phoned her twice now, and she hadn’t answered or returned his calls. That probably told him all he needed to know. Likely she was still upset with him, which was fair. Although this was business, he reminded himself as he deleted the entire message and started over.
Call me. We need to talk.
That sounded like the precursor to a breakup.
He ground out a frustrated sigh. This was ridiculous. He shouldn’t be agonizing over a simple text to a woman he’d known her entire life. If it were any one of her three sisters, he wouldn’t even hesitate. The Jameses were like family to him. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Hazel didn’t feel like family. And hadn’t for a very long time.
Ten years since “the incident” that still filled him with regret and from which he knew he’d never completely recover. He’d tried to move on. Over the years, he’d dated plenty of women, hoping someone would take her place. One unsuccessful attempt had followed another until, ultimately, he’d accepted his fate.
What had happened in Florida a few months ago only proved how little progress he’d made with Hazel. They’d argued. Yes, he’d started it, but he’d also apologized. Then, foolishly, he’d taken her in his arms, and before he knew it, a simple hug had turned...intense. He’d almost kissed her. Again. As if he needed the memory of another kiss, and the long-ago promise he’d broken, to keep him up at night. This time, at least, he’d resisted. Was he proud of how he’d walked away and left things? No. And undoubtedly, that was the source of her anger. Was she that upset, though? Enough not to return his calls?
Finally, he settled on a simple Call me. I need to talk to you.
With a final grumble, he hit Send, set the phone aside and turned his attention back to the computer monitor, where he didn’t see things getting better anytime soon. Not without help. Ideally, Hazel’s help.
The familiar stomp, stomp, stomp of boots shedding snow sounded on the front mat outside the entrance of the newly appointed office of Our Alaska Tours. He looked up to see Tag James come through the door, here to fetch him for their outing to Glacier City. Today was the first donation pickup on behalf of Operation Happy Christmas, a charity Tag’s mom, Margaret, had started and in which Cricket had played an integral part.
“Hey, buddy, you ready?” Tag asked.
“Yep. Rebekah said we could pick up the load anytime after three.”
“Sounds good.” Tag walked forward and leaned on the reception counter, behind which no one yet worked. Our Alaska Tours wasn’t officially open for business. They were slated to launch this spring, but unfortunately, they were behind schedule—the reason he needed to talk to Hazel.
Tag was Hazel’s oldest brother, and his oldest friend. His first friend, his best friend since first grade. He’d been the one to give him the nickname Cricket because Tag went by a nickname, too, and thought being called Cricket would be “supercool.” Beyond that, though, Tag had never cared about any of Cricket’s names, first or last, or what they implied. His pedigree, his poverty, none of that mattered to Tag. Or to the rest of the James family, for that matter.
That same often-hungry, without-prospects poverty might have prevented Cricket from participating in the everyday activities typical of a small-town Alaska childhood if it hadn’t been for Tag. His friend had handled this obstacle the same way he did almost everything in life: with generosity, discretion, casual
efficiency—and extreme loyalty.
When it came time for a game of basketball, snow-machine ride, hike, fishing trip or whatever the boys had set their sights on, and Cricket didn’t have proper-fitting sneakers or a warm-enough coat or the right gear, Tag would give him something from his own closet. Or borrow something from his cousin Bering, or one of his sisters, and loan that to him. And when Cricket had been skirting the edge of the foster system, it had been Tag’s parents who’d taken him in.
Bering, who was also a close friend and Cricket’s business partner in the newly formed tour business, entered the office only seconds behind Tag.
Crossing his arms over his massive chest, he nodded toward the monitor and
asked, “What do you think of Hazel’s suggestions?”
Cricket considered the two men standing before him and wondered, as he often did, where he’d be if it weren’t for the James family. No place good, that was for sure, if he were to base the probabilities on his own family’s history. Instead, with hard work and the encouragement of Tag and his parents, Margaret and Ben, he’d become an airplane pilot. And then a helicopter pilot and finally a business owner.
Tag’s sister Hannah was his partner in JB Heli-Ski, a backcountry adventure ski company for which Cricket also piloted. After Tag, she was his closest friend. The rest of the year, Cricket flew clients into the backcountry for Bering’s other business, a guide and outfitter service, and for Tag’s air transport company, Copper Crossing, which flew just about anything anywhere it needed to go.
This new partnership between him and Bering, while taking him in a different direction, felt like a natural evolution. The formation of Our Alaska Tours was also one more tie binding him to the James family. And one more reason to keep his distance from Hazel, the James woman who could unravel it all.
Keeping a literal distance usually wasn’t too difficult. Her life as a travel writer and blogger meant that typically, thousands of miles separated them. Ironically, it was her expertise in that field now forcing this point of contact.
And this latest bout of Hazel anxiety must, as always, remain his secret and was not the aim of Bering’s question, which he now addressed with a wryly delivered, “Ghost tours? I didn’t even know we had ghosts in Alaska.”
Tag laughed.
A smiling Bering said, “Emily says these tours are very popular everywhere right now.” Emily was Bering’s wife and director of Rankins’s tourism bureau. She’d been filling them in on popular tourist draws. “And you have to admit, it’s interesting. You guys know Kerry Cottons, right? He says Gold Bend’s history is spooky that way. Maybe we could tack on a day to the coastal tour—for the mining history, not the ghosts.” Kerry was a fellow pilot who lived near the historic old mining town a short boat ride away from Juneau.
“We know him,” Cricket said. “Great guy. Honestly, Hazel’s entire proposal is full of interesting ideas.” Mostly. Some of them seemed a little out-there, but Bering had asked her for any and all suggestions, and she’d delivered.
“I agree. What do you think about her recommendation to hire someone?”
“Why don’t you just hire her?” Tag joked. “I’d love for my sister to quit wandering around the world all alone and come home for good.”
“We’d all love that,” Bering concurred.
Would we? Cricket silently pondered. He could barely handle being in the same room with her without giving himself away. How would he manage to live in the same town? Then again, Tag had a point, too; at least they’d know she was safe.
He had to admit that Bering’s idea to seek her advice about their tours had been a good one. He could see now that they should have done it months ago. Technically, they’d planned to in Florida, but then there’d been the argument followed by a crisis involving her brother Seth, and the opportunity had been lost.
Nevertheless, the clock was now ticking to get their tours finalized in advance of the travel season. Cricket felt responsible for the delay. Partly, anyway. There’d been plenty of other obstacles they could never have foreseen. All of them heightening his anxiety as money and time had been invested, commitments and promises made. He needed to fix this, get them back on track.
Expression turning thoughtful, Bering asked Tag, “Do you think that’s possible? That she’d want a job?”
“No.” Tag sighed. “It’ll never happen. Traveling is her life. I don’t think we’ll ever get her back here for good.”
Cricket tried to decide if Tag’s declaration caused him more disappointment or relief. He said, “I texted her, asking if she had time to discuss some of this stuff.” Or, at least, that was what he planned to ask her when she called him back.
“Great,” Bering said. “Maybe we can set up a video call.”
Cricket agreed. Until then, they had a load of Christmas donations to fetch.
Pushing to his feet, he looked at Tag and said, “Let’s hit the road.”
Copyright © 2021 by Carol Ross
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ISBN-13: 9780369714251
Building a Surprise Family
Copyright © 2021 by Anna J. Stewart
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Building a Surprise Family Page 23