One Big Family (Hot Alaska Nights Book 1)

by Aiden Bates

  Bastian agreed. “Plus he’s probably going to be going to jail for a long time. I’m hanging on to this like a bull dog.”

  Zachary smiled. “No one fucks with Bastian Byers’ family.”

  “No one.”

  ***

  The charges were filed a few days later, and at Thomas Nichols’ arraignment, he pleaded not guilty to all charges except extortion. His very convincing proof was the security cam that he kept running at all times. For the brief time that Zachary Kelso was his patient, Nick never touched Zachary inappropriately.

  Zachary gripped Bastian’s hand hard when they saw the proof. Nick never took advantage of Zachary sexually. Thank God.

  Their attorney gave them hugs afterward. “This is what you wanted. Now you know the truth. You weren’t physically violated by him.”

  The men thanked him profusely. “What now?”

  “He’ll get some time for blackmail, not much since he pled to it. And we will threaten a civil suit unless he voluntarily gives up his right to practice. I believe he will. No state medical board is going to want him anyway once this goes on his record.”

  Zachary and Bastian were satisfied. They weren’t litigious, they just wanted to protect themselves, their child, and their friend from future harm.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Little Stella Ansel Byers-Kelso was the light of her parents’ life.

  Even as a tiny thing, she had qualities of both of them, or so they told themselves.

  As Zachary noted, she definitely had Bastian’s coloring, his dark brown, almost black hair and his porcelain complexion that colored pink with emotion. When she cried, her cheeks turned the loveliest shade of rose, and when her alpha-father couldn’t comfort her, so did his.

  It was too soon to be sure, but they thought she might have Zachary’s eye color—so light blue that it looked like gray.

  “She’s pensive, like you,” Zachary said. “When I’m feeding her, she gets lost in thought.”

  “My love, she is four weeks old. I’ve studied child development, and I assure you, there aren’t many thoughts going on yet except for milk! and human that gives me milk!”

  Zachary had to laugh. “How dare you say such things about our beautiful child! I know that our little Stella is secretly a genius, just like her alpha-daddy.”

  “Actually,” Bastian said, “I do see her eyes move around and settle on things more than the average infant of her age. To me, that indicates creativity. Maybe she’ll end up being an artist like you.”

  Zachary smiled and looked down at the beautiful child. It filled him with warmth to hear his husband say such kind things.

  Who knew what little Stella would be when she grew up? As long as she was happy, healthy, and good, it didn’t matter. And how could she not be, when she was surrounded by so much love?

  Now that the seemingly interminable pregnancy was over, Zachary’s only complaint was the lack of sleep. She went through the night for the first few weeks, but now at four weeks, she was waking up every two hours. Bastian helped, but he had deadlines to meet with his research, so he got up once and Zachary got up twice. This meant that Zachary was exhausted during the day, with dark circles under his eyes. He limited his coffee intake to two cups a day, but secretly wanted to connect an intravenous drip.

  He couldn’t have done it with Gladys and Holly.

  Gladys had told Holly about Nick’s extortion, and how Bastian and Zachary had not only forgiven her but had helped her seek justice.

  “You sweet man,” Holly exclaimed, the first time she saw him after the revelation. “You took care of my baby girl, and now I’m going to take care of yours. You put yourself right to bed, and we will be right out here waiting for you when you get up. Formula’s in the kitchen, right? Diapers? Off you go.”

  Zachary almost cried with relief as he climbed into bed. He put on an eye mask and some ear plugs—knowing that little Stella was in highly capable hands—and was quickly enveloped in the most satisfying sleep of his life.

  It was the smell that woke him, two hours later. Some kind of something delicious.

  The scene that greeted him when he entered the living room was this: the baby tucked neatly into her little electric swing, watching Miss Holly with great curiosity, and Holly singing some bright Country song as she stirred something on the stove.

  “How was that nap, hon?”

  “Amazing. Thank you.”

  “I bet you feel like a million bucks. Now this is just a simple chicken soup that I whipped up with what you had. You make that husband of yours make a pot of rice when he gets home, and ya’ll are going to have a lovely little supper.”

  She washed her hands, kissed the baby, and said, “Same time tomorrow, hon,” before letting herself out.

  The next day, it was Denise that showed up.

  “I don’t cook as well as Holly, but I’m just as good with babies. Go take a nap.”

  When she left a few hours later, the living room had been dusted and refrigerator was wiped down. She left a frozen lasagna in the freezer.

  On Friday, it was Gladys.

  “Okay, I’ve never changed a diaper before, but I watched a YouTube video on it last night. Do you think she’ll poop?” She giggled but her nose scrunched up.

  Zachary let her babysit anyway, but he set his alarm for just a one hour nap.

  It was still wonderful.

  Afterwards, he and Gladys caught up.

  “I decided to see a therapist,” Gladys told him brightly. “It’s a woman who works in Anchorage, but I can have Skype sessions when the weather is bad.”

  Her nimble fingers flew over some fluffy purple yarn. She was making a scarf for Celia, the librarian, whose birthday was coming up. The material was called baby merino, and was some of the softest around. Zachary agreed that it would complement Celia’s coloring and delicate nature well.

  “What’s the point of the therapy?” Zachary asked. The baby had been changed, and he held her now on his lap. She was staring at the pattern on her daddy’s shirt.

  “Have you never been in therapy?” Gladys asked, as if surprised.

  Zachary shook his head no, but that wasn’t exactly true. After Ian’s death, long ago, he’d seen a child psychologist for a few months, but the only thing that had been truly helpful was time.

  “Oh, it’s wonderful,” Gladys said with enthusiasm. “It’s like having a best friend that has to listen to you, doesn’t judge you, and gives you excellent advice. And of course, you pay for that friend.”

  “And it helps with depression?”

  “It does. In my case, we’ve spoken about the things that I already know I need to work on. She helps me figure out how to self-actualize. For example, I wasn’t creating as much when I was—well, you know.” She meant when she was being extorted by Nick, but they had an unspoken agreement to not talk about him anymore. “The sad thing is, creating lifts me out of my depression. So I was self-defeating. I wasn’t doing the one thing that has proven to be most effective.”

  Zachary nodded. It had been way too long since he’d taken any photos. He looked down at the baby and thought, Here’s the most perfect inspiration ever, and I’ve barely photographed her.

  “What else has helped you?”

  “Well, for one thing, I can be a night owl, but I need those eight hours of sleep. So I’ve been taking some vitamins and minerals that help me rest better. And then there’s mindfulness meditation.” Gladys explained the app that she used, which helped her clear her mind. “It’s weird, I know, but I feel more peaceful after.”

  “I think I need to give that a try.”

  She nodded, but didn’t say anything. Zachary had to give her credit, she was an excellent listener.

  “This wasn’t exactly the plan, you know,” he began. “I wasn’t going to be the stay-at-home dad. I mean, I’m so in love with Stella.” He stroked a finger down the side of her cheek, and her eyes flew open. “I really do enjoy the time I spend with her. Bastia
n has these child psychology books, and did you know that, at this age, every week they do something new? All small things, but important things. It’s fascinating.”

  “But?”

  “But it can also feel kind of boring, I guess. It can’t be helped, though. Bastian’s work has picked up, and mine . . . well, there are only so many pictures you can take of the Alaskan snow.”

  “I think you need a project, Zach.”

  “Probably. But . . . what?”

  “Maybe you aren’t doing the one thing that you know to be most effective. You just said how fascinated you were with the changes that Stella goes through on a weekly basis. What about a photo series for a parenting magazine? Show her demonstrating the changes, write about them. Everyone loves photos of adorable babies.”

  He suddenly clapped his hands. Stella was so startled she jumped, and then started squalling.

  “Oh, sorry, baby!” he whispered, scooping her off his lap and rocking her. “That’s one of the developmental milestones. Jumping when she’s startled. I just got excited.”

  “By my idea?” Gladys’s eyes were just as big as Stella’s and she looked thrilled with the possibility.

  “No, but close! Want to help?”

  Gladys looked at him like he was crazy to have to ask.

  Soon, they were dragging props and equipment down to the hall to the elevator with Stella attached firmly to her father in a sling.

  It was the first time that Zachary had felt motivated in weeks. He knew that much of it was due to the help from the women in the building, allowing him to catch some sleep. But big thanks was due to Gladys for kindling the creative flame.

  He wanted to write an article and take photos, not about developmental milestones, but about a stay-at-home omega-father creating a relationship with his daughter. It would be about his own personal milestones, learning to balance the love for his child with the difficulties of losing himself a little bit in the process. Perhaps he would find himself again with this work.

  Within half an hour, Zachary had set up a makeshift studio in an empty corner of the rec room and was snapping away.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  There was very little that the residents of Stellar Landing liked more than a good party. There was the annual Christmas party, as well as smaller parties for less-exciting holidays, the “orphans Thanksgiving” for the people who couldn’t go back to the mainland. There were back-to-school parties and graduation parties and dances for the fifth-, eighth-, and twelfth-graders. There were luaus in both summer and winter, and in July, there was the one outdoor party when they set off a beautiful fireworks display. (And of course, there were those crazy swingers’ parties, but those weren’t exactly advertised on the bulletin board by the church.)

  There hadn’t been a baby born in the building in a few years, so now there was going to be a baby shower. Everyone agreed that they would wait until the spring, when Stella was a little older, Zachary was feeling a little better, and Bastian’s research had a lull. Stella was three months old on the day of the shower.

  As Zachary got her dressed for the event, now in a size six-month dress, he contemplated how much had changed in just the past few months. The baby was growing like a chubby little weed and smiling all the time. It wasn’t just gas, either! She was a happy baby. Bastian was able to spend more time at home during the day, enjoying getting to know his little girl. And Zachary was feeling more creative, inspired, and fulfilled than he had in a while.

  His article “Omega Father and Child” was purchased by Parenting magazine for a pretty nice fee, and had been very well-received. Then they asked him to make it into a blog on their website. The magazine wanted to become more inclusive, and the intimate and beautiful photos of the handsome young father with his precious baby girl seemed like a great first start. Next to the photos were Zachary’s honest—sometimes almost painfully so—observations about being a full-time parent.

  One of the reviews of the new feature stated that Zachary “pulled back the veil on parenthood, exposing it’s joyous highs and its painful lows, when all too often, we are told that the only good parents are happy, patient parents. Thank you, Byers-Kelso, for finally telling the truth.”

  The blog had been sort of like Zachary’s own version of therapy. The readers of Parenting listened to him and affirmed him.

  Shortly after the blog appeared online, he was contacted by a well-known documentarian. The filmmaker flew into Anchorage, took Zachary and Bastian out to a very nice dinner, and told them that he wanted to create a film about the “new alpha and omega parenthood” (a phrase which both Zachary and Bastian thought was ridiculous), that of modern, educated men who eschewed their traditional upbringing.

  “I’m not sure we’re doing that,” Zachary admitted over post-dinner drinks. He thought about how he had changed Stella’s diaper probably fifty times that day, and had gotten into an argument with his husband about it. “Sometimes this feels a little too traditional.”

  Zachary and Bastian said no to the film. They didn’t need the money, and they didn’t desire the fame. It was fun to be courted like that, however, and the offer gave Zachary some leverage. Soon he’d be making more money from his blog.

  The extra income allowed him to hire a babysitter for a few mornings a week without guilt. It was just Denise, and she was thrilled to do it. Zachary was able to head out into the wild and take photos. Just for him.

  Life had gotten better than he’d expected.

  “Zach?”

  He heard Bastian come into the condo.

  “In here, Bast. You need to get ready for the shower.”

  Bastian filled the door frame. His baby girl saw him and her face broke into a brilliant, toothless grin. She loved her alpha-daddy so.

  He was holding a letter.

  “I’ve got some . . . interesting news.”

  “In an actual paper letter? That’s unsettling. Nothing good comes in envelopes.”

  “I think it’s good news. But you may disagree.”

  Zachary gave him a look. They’d had this conversation before: say what you need to say, no one here is a mind reader.

  “Do you remember a few months ago, when I was talking about the Mars colony simulation in Hawaii?”

  Zachary nodded. He didn’t really, but he felt he had a good excuse. The past year had been just a little crazy. Besides, he liked to hear Bastian talk about nerdy stuff.

  “I—I applied for a grant. And a job. And I got it.”

  Zachary thought about what he’d said as he finished putting on the baby’s socks.

  “Let’s just skip past the part where I accuse you of doing all this without consulting me. What does the offer entail, and what do you want to do?”

  It was an exciting offer, Zachary had to admit. They wanted Bastian to observe, research, and test the subjects in the colony in a similar way that he did in Stellar Landing, and develop systems to keep the inhabitants healthy now and, ultimately, if and when they went to Mars.

  “This is a real thing?”

  “Yeah. We talked about it. They live in a dome in drastic isolation, and live with the same restrictions they’d have on Mars. The current group hasn’t been outside their dome in three months. I wouldn’t be part of the simulation, I’d just be observing them, and communicating with them via computer. Making sure they weren’t suffering from seasonal affective disorder, or whatever the Mars version of that is.”

  “What’s the pay?”

  Bastian held up the letter, his finger underlining the offer that NASA had made him.

  Zachary’s brows shot up. It was three times what Bastian was getting from the university for his current research. “What’s the down side?”

  “Three months there, three months here. Starting in July. You and the baby can join me, when you think she’s ready, or when you are free to leave your work. If you want.”

  A smirk appeared on Zachary’s mouth, despite his best efforts. A change had also come over their re
lationship. There was a nice give and take now. They were back to appreciating not only each other’s part in their romantic relationship and parenthood, but also each other’s passion and work.

  “Let’s talk about it more tonight, okay? Go get ready for the baby shower.” He winked at his alpha, though, to let him know that he was, as always, on his side.

  The party planning committee, as they were affectionately known, had outdone themselves again. The theme of the shower was “Spring,” because everyone had been looking forward to the sun coming out again. Thank goodness, it wasn’t like last year, with big storms still threatening them. No, it was chilly outside but very sunny, and the forecast said they would be snow-free until October. Paper flowers were strung along the ceiling, pastel balloons hung from every possible perch, and brightly colored punch filled bowls around the room.

  Zachary and Bastian looked their best, of course, but they joked to each other that they may as well be chopped liver. It was clear that the star of the show was Stella. The smiling tot with thick black curls was beloved. There was a high chair set up for her at the table, which was decorated like a little throne.

  “That has to be the work of Gladys,” Bastian said.

  After greeting everyone, there was food. Zachary got over his Mexican cravings, and instead, there was pasta primavera, ambrosia salad, and tiny wedge salads in cups with bacon sprinkled on top. Pulled pork sliders, veggie burgers, and three-bean salad was on the other end. Food for the many children in attendance was on another table: mini peanut butter sandwiches, cheese soldiers, and fruit cups.

  Zachary found his creative friend in the crowd—not hard, since Gladys was now sporting brilliant green hair for spring—and shook his head at her, as if to say, “You’ve done it again, friend, and you even outdid yourself.”

  She winked back and blew him a kiss.

  It struck Zachary again and again, not just at this party, but on a daily basis, that he loved living in Stellar Landing. The people surrounding them truly cared for them and their daughter. There was comfort, acceptance, and even love here.