by Brandon Witt
Travis laughed. It was the first time Wesley had heard the sound. He liked it. “He’s more than a little retarded. I’m betting he’s the reason Dunkyn’s tooth was cracked.”
“Dad. I’ve told you not to say that word.” Caleb didn’t raise his voice at all, but did have the hint of lecture that only a teenager can master.
“Sorry, bud. I forgot. Old dog, new tricks.” Travis actually did sound sorry, and maybe a little embarrassed. It wasn’t a sound Wesley would have associated with the man.
With one hand still scratching Dolan’s belly, Wesley reached out and rubbed behind Dunkyn’s ear. The dog tilted his head, pushing into Wesley’s hand. Dolan, realizing the human’s attention was split, increased the ferocity of his “swimming.” Wesley forced himself to look up at Travis. “How’s Dunkyn doing? I should have called to check on him.” For the second time, Wesley hadn’t been able to force himself to call Travis’s number.
Travis offered a small smile, though his tone still sounded embarrassed, as if he’d just gotten reprimanded by Caleb again. “He’s doing great. No problems. I’m not letting him chase Mr. Walker’s buffalo, just like you said.” He paused and cleared his throat, though he hadn’t sounded hoarse. “Thank you for coming in early to help him.”
Typically Wesley would have offered some smart-aleck remark, like that Travis hadn’t given him much of a choice. “No problem. I’m just glad Dunkyn’s doing well. He’s in great shape for a dog his age. I can tell you really love him and take care of him.”
Travis looked flustered and didn’t reply.
“It says a lot about somebody. How they treat animals.” Wesley wanted to kick himself. He was flirting. What was wrong with him? Right in front of the man’s kids! The straight man’s kids!
“Dad takes really good care of animals.”
Wesley followed the sound of Caleb’s voice, but the boy wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at his dad, unadulterated pride on his face—an atypical teenage expression, if Wesley’s teenage nieces were to be trusted.
Avery looked at him, her previous mood forgotten. She looked from Wesley to the still manically wriggling dog. “Dolan! Get up! You’re going to ruin your Lost Boy outfit!”
Dolan scrambled to an upright position and shuffled into Avery. Caleb pushed him back and uttered a soft whisper. Dolan sat down, then crossed his front legs over Caleb’s shoe.
Wesley eyed the boy. So similar, yet so different from his father. “You’ve got quite the touch. With animals and kids.”
“He sure does. I always say he reminds me of Dickon from The Secret Garden. Caleb is kinda magical.” Wendy was back, washing away any remains of awkwardness between the men. Or at least overpowering it.
Caleb flushed at his aunt’s words, but the hue was nothing compared to what she elicited next.
Wendy motioned across the street. “Caleb, hunny, why don’t you let Avery take care of Dolan for a bit and you go see what the kids at the youth group are up to?”
Caleb peered over his father’s shoulder, inspecting the growing group of teenagers like they were an alien species. “No. I’m okay.”
She tried again. “It sounds like they’re having a good time.”
He grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like a good time, Wendy. Can’t you hear that music?”
Travis laughed, triggering another rush of warmth from somewhere inside Wesley. “That’s my boy. If it ain’t country, it ain’t music.”
Wendy rolled her eyes. “You’re a lot of help.” She turned her attention to Wesley. “I was just talking to Mei-Lien. She said her granddaughter is over at the youth building tonight. Weren’t you telling me that you knew Mei-Lien’s daughter when you were a kid, or something like that?”
“Um, yeah. I doubt we’d even recognize each other, though. Why? Do you think she’s over there too?”
Wendy gave him an exasperated look that was nearly as withering as if it had come from Avery. “I doubt that Mei-Lien’s thirtysomething daughter hangs out at the youth building, but you can check if you want, Wesley.”
“Dad?”
Travis stopped messing with Mason’s raccoon ears and looked over at his oldest son. “Yeah, bud?”
Even in the dim light, Caleb’s increasing blush grew more visible. “Can you watch Avery? I think Dolan might need a walk.”
“A walk? We’re walking all over downtown. Don’t you—”
Wendy reached across the circle they’d formed and grasped Avery’s hand. “Come here, Tinker Bell. You can play with Nutmeg and help me pass out candy while your skunky Lost Boy gets some exercise.”
“Yay! Can I have some candy too?” Tinker Bell clapped her hands.
“Of course, dear.” Wendy made a shooing motion toward Caleb, who promptly took off down the street, Dolan at his heels. She waited until he was several yards away, then turned to her brother. “Seriously?”
Travis looked at her in confusion. “What’d I do?”
“Haven’t you realized how nervous Caleb gets anytime Ashley’s name is brought up?”
His confused expression only increased. “Who the hell is Ashley?”
“Mei-Lien’s granddaughter, you idiot.”
“Well what does she have to do with—oh!” Travis craned his neck to watch Caleb’s and Dolan’s retreating forms, then looked over at the group of teens at the youth building. “He’s going the wrong way.”
Wendy rolled her eyes again. “Of course he is, with us all watching him. Mark my words. By the time you’re ready to go home, you’ll have to swing over there to pick him up, whether or not they’re playing country music. And you have the nerve to talk about Dolan.”
“Ashley’s nice. I like her hair.” Mason turned shy eyes up to his father.
Travis smiled at the boy. “Even you’ve met Ashley.”
Mason nodded, but offered no more reply.
“She and Mei-Lien come into the store sometimes. Ashley always plays with Mason and Avery.”
Travis turned back to look at the crowd past Rose Petal’s Place, apparently trying to locate Caleb. “Huh.”
Without warning, Wendy turned to Wesley. “So I was thinking. I’m making tacos tomorrow for dinner. You should come over and join us.”
Travis’s head whipped around, his eyes wide as he stared at his sister.
Wesley had a similar reaction, and it took a couple of tries before he found his voice. “Oh, I don’t want to be a bother. You’ll have your hands full.”
“Nonsense! It’s the least we can do for how you helped Dunkyn and all the help you’ve given me tonight. Plus, it’s not any harder to make tacos for six than it is for five.”
Wesley shook his head, refusing to look in Travis’s direction. “No, Wendy, I don’t want to be—”
“Come over around six, or earlier if you want. Bring a six-pack. Travis would like that. We’re not taking no for an answer.” She looked over for confirmation. Glared over, actually. “Are we, Travis?”
Travis managed to croak out a response. “No. It’s the least we can do.”
Chapter Nine
BY THE time Wendy turned her old Ford Contour off Airport Road and into the garage, it was past midnight. After pulling the keys out of the ignition and opening her door, she caught her reflection in the rearview mirror. She leaned closer, the lighting from the yellow bulb on the car’s ceiling harsh against her skin. With stubby, ring-encrusted fingers she smoothed out the lines around her eyes. “You’re getting too old to stay up this late, girl. Time to get some heavy-duty night cream.” In the back of her mind, she could hear her mother’s voice preaching about the sin of vanity. Wendy smiled at her reflection. “And maybe some new eye shadow while you’re at it. Something with glitter.”
Turning from her reflection, keeping the car door open by pressing one cowboy-boot-clad foot against it, she twisted, reached into the backseat, and picked up the small carrier. She peered in at Nutmeg. “Come on, sweetness. We’ve had a big day. Let’s get to bed.”
; Once out of the car, she shut the door carefully, lest she wake one of the kids. The pile of Halloween crap in the backseat called to her through the window. She paused, considering. It was either unload it now or in the morning before she took the kids to school. Screw it. Morning it was.
Wendy trod quietly from the garage into the dark house, silently making her way through the hallway, kitchen, and living room, stepping around the maze of furniture she knew like the back of her hand.
If it hadn’t been for the warning of Dunkyn’s snores, she would have yelped at the hulking silhouette in the recliner. “For crying out loud, Travis. What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?”
Her brother grunted.
Dunkyn woke at the sound of their voices and padded over the carpet to sniff noses with Nutmeg as Wendy set down the carrier. “I thought you’d be back down to help me clean up stuff after you got the kids to bed.”
“Figured you had your new best friend to help with that.”
She paused at his tone, for once not really certain what it meant. She’d expected some resistance over inviting Wesley for dinner, but Travis sounded more than irritated. His words rang of accusation. “If you’re talking about Wesley, then, yes, actually. He did stay and help put everything away, and he even helped Iris Linley with a couple of things, if you can believe it. He’s a nice man.”
Another grunt.
“He is. I’d think you’d think so too, seeing as he saved Dunkyn’s life.”
“Nothing Cheryl Fisher couldn’t have done if she’d been there. Probably would have fixed him the first time—without surgery.” Travis pushed off his knees, letting out a groan as he stood.
In the dim light, he looked so much like their father, like a bull trapped inside a man’s body. Though their dad would never wear a tank top like Travis had on—much too indecent, according to their mother. Wendy had a moment of déjà vu as she looked at him. He used to be more gentle, not so angry. Before. “If we’re gonna talk, let’s turn on a light or something. I feel like I’m talking to Dad. It’s freaking me out.”
“We’ll do dinner tomorrow, Wendy, just so we won’t be rude. After that, though, stay out of it.”
Even in the shadows, she could see his eyes flash. He’d never spoken to her like that. It reminded her of her ex, with all his demands, all his chauvinistic mannerisms. Coming from Charles, all it would have done was elicit a fight, which described the last ten years of their marriage. In her brother, it was too new. An unnamed guilt whispered to her. “Travis, I’m sorry if you’re angry. That wasn’t my intention. I just thought I saw—”
“I don’t care what the fuck you think you saw, Wendy. Mind your own damned business.” He slapped his thigh. “Come on, Dunk. Time for bed.”
She stood statue-like as she watched him go. Her feelings stung; she was angry at herself for not fighting back at the way he’d spoken to her. She’d sworn no man would ever treat her in that manner again. She’d never expected it from her brother.
Travis turned slightly toward her just before his shadow disappeared into his bedroom. “It’s fine if you need a new best friend, Wendy. You do what you need to do. But just because you want one, doesn’t mean I do.” Then he was gone. He and the dog.
Her tentative anger vanished at his words. She should have realized. As soon as Travis had introduced Shannon to the family when they’d met in high school, she and Wendy had become like sisters. Wendy had been one of the few never to feel Shannon’s temper. The only disagreements they’d ever had were around Shannon pushing Wendy to leave Charles.
New best friend. Of course. No wonder he was mad. Most days Travis seemed as if Shannon had just died the day before. Since he wasn’t moving on, he would take it as a betrayal if she did.
Wendy let out a sigh and picked up Nutmeg’s carrier before starting down the hall to her room. How she ached for her brother, for the kids—for all of them, herself included. She’d lost a sister. She silently patted her brother’s door as she walked by, whispering a soft prayer. Still, if he ever spoke to her like that again, she’d kick the big oaf in the balls and tell him it was from her and Shannon.
She could almost hear her sister-in-law laughing.
BY THE time lunch rolled around, though she’d started off the morning angry at her brother, Wendy had hashed through her feelings and once more separated Travis’s words from those of her ex-husband’s. She’d called and invited Jason over for dinner as well, as much a peace offering between Travis and her as any real desire to have Jason there. She loved him, almost as much as a brother, so he was always welcome, but if she’d been right about what she’d noticed the night before, Jason’s presence wouldn’t help the situation.
By the time Travis and the kids bustled into the house, both dogs crashing after them, Wendy was back to being angry. Well, not angry, she decided. Determined. True, Travis might not want her interference, but that was just too bad. Too fucking bad, to steal one of her brother’s favorite words. If he was being stubborn, too much of a hardheaded man to pull his head out of his ass, then she’d do what she felt needed to be done.
By the time the seven of them sat down to dinner, Wendy had moved from feeling simply determined to a certainty that she was justified in her involvement in pushing Travis to stop living on pause. She’d made Shannon promises, and she intended to keep them.
“So that running outfit doesn’t itch?” Jason managed to make his words clear, despite the huge mound of taco in his mouth. “What do they call that again? Spandex? Looks like it would make your junk itch.”
“Jason Baker, shut your mouth. We’ve got kids at the table. One of them a little girl, if you recall.” Wendy glared at him, cursing herself for inviting him for the hundredth time since he had arrived. Wesley had shown up just a few minutes before Jason, and it had been awkward enough, but when Jason arrived, an unnamed tension she didn’t understand filled the house.
Jason looked at her, unabashed, intentionally taking another huge bite of his taco before addressing her. “So what? Avery was there. She saw it already.”
At her name, Avery’s red head popped back up above the table line from where she’d been sneaking food to Dolan. “What’d I see?”
Jason motioned toward Wesley with his taco. “The vet’s junk bobbing up and down as he was running.”
Travis glared at his friend. “Jason, for fuc—for crying out loud, shut up.”
“What’d I see?” Avery looked back and forth between the men, on the verge of a fit at not being let in on whatever the secret was.
Wendy looked away from Wesley’s scarlet face and patted Avery’s arm. “Nothing, hunny. You know Uncle Jason sometimes doesn’t make any sense.”
Jason leered at her. “Hey now. You don’t have—”
Avery cut him off. “What’s junk?”
Jason howled with laughter.
“I’m going to kill you, Baker.” Travis’s voice sounded like he meant it.
Caleb kept his eyes on his plate when he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “Avery wasn’t out there, remember? She was inside with Wendy.”
Jason wiped tears from his eyes. “Oh right. It was just us boys witnessing the good doctor’s junk flop—” Jason stopped speaking abruptly, flashing a glance toward Wesley, then following Caleb’s tactic and finding something fascinating on his plate, his face growing scarlet.
Wendy looked at the faces around the table. All three men staring down in shame. Avery growing closer to outrage every moment she wasn’t answered. Only Mason looked up at Wendy. His voice was barely more than whisper. “Dr. Ryan ran by and met Dolan while we were carving pumpkins.”
Wesley looked up, first at the little boy, then at Wendy. He let out a humiliated sigh. “You can imagine what my running clothes look like, Wendy.”
She hesitated for a moment, looking around at Wesley, Mason, Jason, and back again at Wesley before it finally clicked. Unconsciously she covered her mouth as she began to chuckle. “Oh no. Spandex? Really, Wes
ley? Spandex?”
Forgetting his earlier embarrassment over talking about Wesley’s junk, Jason waggled his eyebrows in her direction. “Not just spandex, Wendy. Purple-and-yellow spandex. And little pink shoestrings too.”
Wendy gaped at Wesley. She tried not to laugh. She really did. Maybe it was the trying to hold it in that caused the massive snort she issued before throwing her head back in laughter. Within moments almost everyone at the table was dying with laughter, even Caleb. The twins weren’t sure why they were laughing, but they laughed. Only Wesley and Travis remained silent.
When she was finally able to breathe again, Wendy shook her head at Wesley. “And you’re worried about the Miata? Oh, sweetie. Good thing you’re cute. I’d pay good money to see that, though.” She paused, considering. “Actually if you’ve been jogging around town like that, I’m surprised I haven’t heard anything about it or seen pictures.”
“I only run in the evenings.” Wesley’s sheepish tone made her start laughing once more.
“Bud, with as bright as your running getup is, it ain’t ever gonna be dark enough outside to keep a lid on that.” Jason rose up and leaned across the table to smack Wesley on the shoulder.
The gesture surprised Wendy. From Jason, of all people. He was not unkind, but he was about as enlightened as the livestock he tended. Travis met her gaze from across the table, then looked away. It seemed she hadn’t been the only one to notice.
Jason scooped up the plate of butter-fried flour tortillas as he sat back down. “Just don’t wear ’em when you come pick up the feed for Cheryl’s next week. I don’t think the old-timers could handle it.”
Wesley finally looked the other man in the eyes. “When I what?”
“When you pick up the feed. Cheryl always swings by the first week of the month and gets all the pet food she sells at the clinic. She didn’t tell you about that?”
“Yes. She did, actually. I have it on the calendar for Tuesday. Pick up the food from Cedar County Feed. I just didn’t know it was your place.”