Shepherd's Watch

by Angie Counios

  chapter 2

  As I step out of the lake, a ball splashes nearby, spraying me with a faceful of water, and a young dad calls out, “Sorry!” I push over to it through the surf and toss it back.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  Although it’s a simple interaction, I’ve been hyper-aware since last fall when I found myself searching for my girlfriend’s killer with this guy named Charlie Wolfe. In the past, I never really thought about my actions, especially little ones like getting a kid’s ball, and I’m pretty sure no one else did either. But now everything I do seems to hold weight for the people around me and they worry about what I’m up to. I second-guess most of my behaviour—it’s like I have to justify myself all the time.

  It’s a real head game.

  As I cross the hot sand, my sister calls out, “Yo, Aquaman! Your harem awaits.”

  I follow her gaze to a beach blanket full of tweens that could maybe be in Grade 7 or 8 if they’re lucky. One waves, but it’s all sorts of awkward. I’m completely embarrassed for the poor kid and I don’t know what to do, so I grab a towel and cover up.

  “Yeah, you better hide that before you cause an incident.”

  For a moment I forget everything. I wonder sometimes if Heather tries to get me out of my head on purpose.

  “You have no respect for hard work, sis,” I state, patting my six-pack, making sure I’ve turned away from my new fan club.

  I hear the girls giggle.

  “Could you hand me my clothes?”

  “I don’t know. It might devastate them.”

  “Please?”

  She tosses me a tee-shirt. “Fine. Ruin my fun.”

  I pull it on, hoping the tweens will settle down. “How about we grab some ice cream on the way out?”

  “Sounds good,” she says with a smile, “might cool down that ego of yours after all this adoration.”

  “Ha ha. You know what? You can shut it.”

  This only makes Heather laugh more as we walk up the beach.

  chapter 3

  The line at the ice cream shack moves quickly and when we get to the front, Heather gets the flavour of the day, pistachio, and I order a chocolate-dipped vanilla soft serve on a sugar cone.

  “Not the manliest of choices, little brother.”

  “I’ll eat it fast. Besides, I relate to it.”

  She scrunches her face. “How so?”

  “Because I’m—”

  She realizes and cuts me off. “Nope, I won’t even let you say it.”

  “Fine.” She never appreciates my humour when it comes to our mixed heritage—Dad was born in Canada and Mom’s family emigrated from Jamaica in the 1970s, making my sisters and me what I affectionately call “mocha.”

  I dig through my wallet to pay and Heather catches a glimpse of the photo of Sheri I still keep in there, but she doesn’t say a word—another reason she’s a great sister.

  We take our cones and get comfortable in the shade of a tree.

  As I dig in, I ask, “What happened to your boy, Isaac?”

  “He’s far from being ‘my boy.’ ”

  “Well, where’d he go?”

  She smiles. “Let’s just say he wasn’t my flavour of ice cream.”

  It’s good to be around her. Personally, I’m glad that Isaac isn’t in the picture this summer because it means I get a little more brother-and-sister time before she goes back to university and I start my senior year with the busy schedule that will entail.

  Heather doesn’t pry about Sheri, leaving that conversational topic up to me. She’s got great intuition, knowing I’ll talk when the time comes.

  Under the tree, out of the sun, cooling off, I listen to the breeze rustle the leaves above. Heather finishes eating, then stretches and glances at her watch.

  “We should head back.”

  “Yeah, we should.” I don’t move.

  “Yo, lazy ass. Jodi and Bryan leave today and we need to say goodbye.”

  “Fine.” I gulp down the last of the vanilla ice cream, tossing the empty end of the cone to a robin digging in the grass nearby.

  I stand and offer my sister a hand up. We walk down to the parking lot and as I climb into the hot car, I miss the freezing water already.

  chapter 4

  We pull up to the cabin.

  It’s small compared to the newer mansions that have been built around here recently, but it’s got character and Mom and Dad will never give it up; they love being five hours away from the city. The whole area known as Dyson’s Point was developed a few decades ago and my parents picked up the land for almost nothing after a big fire swept through a while back. My family built most of our place themselves. The main floor has a kitchen and living room with large windows that look out on the lake, while the bathroom, utility closet, and my folks’ bedroom are in the back; the second floor has two bedrooms for Heather and me, along with a bathroom. Some small cabins feel tight and enclosed, but ours has such big windows everywhere that daylight pours in and makes the place seem larger than it really is.

  The property slopes down from the ground level of the driveway to the lakeshore, and one end of the cabin is therefore built on wooden piles, which extend upward to give us a covered deck and a beautiful view over the water. It’s the best spot of all. Rain or shine, we spend our time out there, reading in the hammock, barbecuing, or watching Ollie, our golden retriever, protect his territory from a couple of very bold squirrels. A set of stairs leads down to an area that is the perfect combination of manicured and wild. Oak, paper birch, and the occasional spruce tree grow along the edges of the property around a firepit and a path that leads down to the shore.

  Heather and I climb out of the car and take the stairs up to the deck. I peer through the big windows but see no one. Then Mom laughs and we go around the corner to find her lying in the hammock, a glass of wine in her hand. My other sister, Jodi, sits on the deck beside her, legs hanging over the edge. They’re watching Dad and Jodi’s husband, Bryan, play ladder-ball in the grass below.

  “I think that’s one for Bryan!” Mom yells down.

  Dad defends himself. “Easy now or I’ll hide your favourite bottle of Merlot.”

  She takes another sip. “Just you try it.”

  I announce our arrival by jumping into the fray. “No, that’s definitely Dad’s point.”

  My brother-in-law looks up at me. “Really? You’re going to stab me in the back like that?”

  “Hey, you know you’re never too old to be punished, Tony,” Mom chimes in.

  Dad offers me a fist bump, but he’s too far away to make it happen so it’s hilariously awkward. I can’t leave him hanging, though, so I rush down the stairs to fist-bump him back—got to help the old man feel young once in awhile.

  “Thank you, son.” He shoots Mom a smug smile and she sticks her tongue out at both of us as I come back up the stairs.

  “Hey, don’t you worry, Mom. I don’t play favourites. If he tries stealing anything, I know all his hiding spots.”

  Mom raises her glass to me while Dad nods to Bryan. “He really is the worst son, you know?”

  Jodi stands, reaching her arm around me. “Little brother, the master manipulator, your treachery with our parents has earned you a spot helping me with supper.”

  Everyone applauds—except me.

  chapter 5

  Jodi and I step inside and let the screen door squeak shut.

  Making supper always seems like less of a chore at the cabin than it does in the city with its day-to-day grind. However, food prep with Jodi means that she has a big sis/little brother chit-chat planned, which, considering the year I’ve had, might not go so good for me.

  I hope to delay it as long as I can, so I pull vegetables, dressing, and bread from the fridge and hand them to her. I grab six potatoes a
nd dump them into the sink, while Jodi sneaks in beside me to rinse some peppers. I know she’s lining up a way to start into me, but a cheer from outside breaks the moment.

  Out the window, I see Dad raising his hands over his head in a ridiculous victory dance. Bryan and Heather are in tears they’re laughing so hard, but Mom’s still heckling from the sidelines.

  “God, I love those two,” Jodi says as she pushes the faucet to my side of the sink.

  “The old man plays to win.”

  She elbows me. “Can’t think of anybody else like that in the family.”

  I wash potatoes and wrap them in foil. “What? I’m not competitive.” I only partially believe my own lie.

  “Oh no, not at all: rookie of the year, mvp, team captain—”

  “Hey, that’s not competitive. That’s ambitious. They’re different.”

  “Should we go home and look at the second shelf Dad had to build for your trophies?”

  “All right, enough.” I want to make a snappy comeback but draw a blank.

  Jodi scoffs, “Yeah, if I were Heather, you could razz me about all my achievements, but I was the troublemaker, so you’ve got nothing on me.”

  “How did our parents ever survive you, Jodi?”

  “You should thank me,” she chuckles. “I laid the groundwork for you and Heather.”

  “Wait,” I glance over, thinking back on all the difficult talks Mom, Dad, and I have had over a hot beverage, “tea time?”

  Jodi grins. “Yup.”

  I shake my head, smiling. “Now I know who to blame.”

  “Or maybe the one to thank,” she winks.

  I finish the potatoes and move on to helping my sister cut the veggies.

  “So, how’s Mike doing?” Jodi asks. “He still have a crush on our sister?”

  “Not bad. And of course.”

  “What’s he doing for the summer?”

  “He’s got a job roofing with his uncle.”

  “Ouch, tough gig. Bryan was doing that when we first met.”

  “Really? Mr. Architect was a roofer?”

  “He is of the firm belief that the best way to understand something is by doing it.” She chops away at the carrots. “He also helped build houses for low-income families.”

  I’m impressed. I never thought of him as the type. “Well, Mike thinks he’s all manly and will get the girls by doing it.”

  The door swings open and Bryan enters. “Doing what?”

  Jodi leans in to give him a kiss. “Tony’s buddy Mike is roofing for the summer.”

  He takes a cucumber from the pile. “Ugh, I don’t miss those days. Hot sun, angled roofs. My calves hated me.”

  Jodi smirks. “Yeah, but what about your hot construction body and all the chicks you picked up?”

  “Gah, I don’t need to hear these things!” I groan.

  “Fine,” my sister says, grabbing Bryan’s beer for a swig.

  I watch the two of them interact, crisscrossing back and forth in sync with each other, her hand touching his waist, him giving her a peck on the cheek. I miss having someone like that and quickly force the thought away. “So, Bryan, you had enough of the World Ladder-ball Event?”

  “Man, that was epic. Your dad plays for keeps.”

  Jodi grins at me, but Bryan leans into her. “Reminds me of someone—”

  “What?”

  “Ms. Scrabble Queen? The destroyer of Monopoly? The killer of—”

  She cuts him off, “Okay, fine. Our whole damn family is competitive.”

  I chuckle. “Roasted.”

  Bryan stares out the window. “Ah, but look at them.”

  Jodi and I watch. Dad’s telling an animated story, and Mom and Heather are completely entertained, smiling hard and laughing loudly. Mom leans in and kisses Dad. It’s awesome. Even during this last year, the two of them have stayed solid.

  “Ben’s got it figured out,” Bryan says as he gives Jodi a friendly hip-check, “I need to learn his secrets.”

  Jodi pulls out a stack of marinating chicken from the fridge and hands it to him. “Secret number one: go light the barbecue, get the meat on.”

  “And secret number two?”

  “Bring your wife another beer from the outdoor fridge.”

  “Barbecue, meat, beer. Got it.” He pauses at the door. “Tony, want one?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “I don’t think so,” Jodi pipes up. “You aren’t even a senior yet.”

  “I will be in less than two months. Besides, it’s not like I’ve never had one.” I glance at Bryan, hoping to negotiate.

  “Don’t look at me. I regret even offering.”

  I turn to Jodi, awaiting her final decision.

  “Leave it until supper. See if the old people offer you one,” she suggests.

  It’s a fair strategy and I don’t argue.

  He goes outside and Jodi pulls down the oil and spices for the salad dressing before asking, “How’s Charlie?”

  There it is—the question she’s been biding her time and building toward. She wasn’t around when everything happened, so all she has to go on are stories from the rest of the family.

  “I’m not sure.” I’m not trying to avoid the question; the trouble is that I really don’t know.

  “Aren’t you two friends?”

  “Yes,” I pause. “I think so.”

  “But you don’t know what he’s up to?”

  “Nope.” I haven’t got an answer and it bothers me.

  “You two don’t hang out?”

  “Well, we did. Sort of.” This is getting messy.

  “Doesn’t he text?”

  “Not so much. He’s private.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s hard to explain. He’s just a different kind of guy, Jodi. He’s not the same as someone like Mike.”

  Jodi finishes up the dressing and sets it on the counter beside the salad and veggies. She quietly assesses what’s been done and what we still need to do—but she isn’t done with me.

  “When’s the last time you heard from him?”

  I ponder the question. “Couple of months.”

  She looks out at our laughing parents. Mom grabs Dad to give him a big smooch on the lips. “Mom and Dad seem to like him.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if Mom and Dad felt sorry for him.” I’m surprised to hear myself say it.

  “I don’t think they’d do that. I think they care about him, but it’s different, you know?”

  I nod. She’s right. We aren’t about pity and Charlie isn’t either.

  She hands me her beer and I take a sip. It’s delicious and I like that she’s offered—but I know it comes with a price.

  “So, he’s not around much anymore?” she asks.

  “No, not really.” I take one more swallow, trying not to push my luck.

  She glances out at Mom and Dad, then back at me. “Good, because if you ever pull the kind of crap that you did in the fall again, you’re going to have to deal with me.”

  “Jodi—?”

  “No, Tony. I might’ve driven them a little crazy back in the day, but if something bad happens—”

  “Nothing bad is going to happen to them.”

  She stops, shaking her head at me. “No, you idiot. I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about you. The only reason you’re still alive is dumb luck. If something happened to you, it would destroy them, you know that? And you and Charlie chasing after a serial killer? That’s about as stupid as it gets.”

  She takes her beer back. “If you do something to yourself, then you do something to this family. And if that happens, you and I are going to have a moment far worse than any tea time with Mom.”

  I know not to take her warning lightly.

  She gulps the
last of the beer, dumping it into the collection of empties. She’s at the door before she looks my way. “You coming?”

  My mind spins. “Sure… right behind you.”

  chapter 6

  We sit back in our chairs with our bellies full, the remnants of a delicious summer meal growing cold on the table.

  Bryan puts his hand on Jodi’s back and gently rubs it. “Well, boss, should we get packed and on the road?”

  She leans into him. “As long as you drive while I sleep, sure.”

  I smile, remembering the long road trips we’d take as kids when Jodi would claim big-sister status, sprawling out across the back seat of the minivan, sticking her younger siblings together in the middle row.

  Dad tosses up his arms. “But who’s going to clean up?”

  I roll my eyes because I know he’s hoping I’ll do it, but Mom intervenes. “You are, old man.”

  Heather and Jodi smile and nod, pointing at him as well.

  “And why is that? I’m the Ladder-ball King.”

  “Yes, exactly. And it got you out of making this meal,” Mom adds.

  He groans. “The servants of Alexander the Great wouldn’t get away with this mutiny. Or Hannibal!”

  “Or Tutankhamun. Yes, we get it.” She picks up plates, stacking them on her arm. “But at least you have your Cleopatra to help.”

  “I think I’m being taken advantage of here because I’m the oldest. Or is it the best looking?”

  Mom kisses him on the cheek. “How about all of the above?”

  “Fine. But this is the last time,” Dad grumbles before pushing away from the table and going into the cabin to work. “And it was Mark Antony and Cleopatra, not Tutankhamun.”

  As the screen door plunks shut, Jodi eyes Mom. “You knew that, didn’t you?”

  “It’s always good to know how to get something out of your spouse.” Mom winks at her as she follows Dad inside.

  Bryan eyes Jodi. “You don’t do that, do you?”

  “No, of course not,” she says, taking his hand in hers, but I’m sure she’s not being entirely honest. Jodi pulls him out of his chair and they go in to finish packing.