The Bears of Blackrock, Books 1 - 3: The Fenn Clan

by Michaela Wright

  Kirk walked across the room as quietly as he could, and slipped under the covers behind her. Before he could settle there, Joe reached behind her, grabbing his hand to pull it around her. Kirk’s heart pounded in his chest, feeling her warmth against him, the subtle scent of agitation still drifting from her skin. He let her pull his arm around her and Rory, and settled into the contours of her body. Despite his pounding heart, he melted into the space there, the scent of them surrounding him as he listened to Josephine fall asleep in his arms.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Joe watched Rory walk into school, glancing over her shoulder toward them every few steps as though she expected her mother to change her mind. Joe half wanted to. She felt foolish letting Rory go back to school. She felt foolish to think that she could stay in Blackrock, knowing Carson had found them.

  The police cruiser was parked just outside the front door, the school informed backwards and forwards of the threat. Still, Joe couldn’t help, but imagine the worst. Why wasn’t she on the road, crammed into some cheap jalopy or some stolen car, roaring across the border into Canada, New Hampshire, West Virginia – anywhere, but here?

  She turned back to the truck and looked through the glare of the windshield at the reason.

  Kirk sat there, watching her, waiting for her to return, to bring her home, to work –wherever she might choose. She averted her eyes, unable to look at that face for too long for fear he might read her thoughts.

  “You sure you’re alright?” He said when she climbed back into the truck.

  No. She wasn’t sure, but what choice did she have?

  “Mr. Arsenault won’t let me take part in the concert if I don’t go to school, Momma!” Rory had protested that morning. Joe wondered if any other child had ever pleaded to go to school before that morning.

  Joe relented, despite her nerves. Rory needed to go to school. Life had to go on. It was either time to run, or it wasn’t. She’d chosen to stay.

  Or the choice had been made for her the first time Kirk Fenn flashed her that smile of his.

  Officer Shanehan waved at them from his cruiser as they drove past, heading back toward Falkirk’s Seat and the Blackrock Inn and Tavern. She still wasn’t sure she’d be going to work that day. The Blackrock police assured her they were canvassing the area, checking local hotels for a man matching Carson’s description. So far there’d been no sign of him or his car in any of the neighboring towns. It didn’t matter. Joe was sure it was only a matter of time before he reappeared. She’d failed to do the one thing Carson required of all the people in his life – she hadn’t obeyed him, and he would punish her for it, by whatever means necessary. Even after all these years, he would punish her.

  “Should I bother going by the tavern? I can take you straight home, now.”

  Joe glanced over at Kirk. He was wearing his puffy navy blue jacket, a read ski hat, and his beard was growing shaggy from several days without a trim. Still, he was beautiful to look at – a solid, yet soft thing in a jagged world.

  She swallowed. “Are you going to work – if you take me home?”

  Kirk glanced her way, then shook his head. “No. I’ll stay with you, if you like.”

  Joe exhaled, betraying her relief. He patted his hand on her knee. He’d noticed.

  They drove along the winding roads, a distance of only five miles taking almost half an hour. The back roads of Maine never led anywhere quick. Joe was becoming accustomed to this corner of the world, recognizing each corner by its trees or its potholes. She sat in the passenger seat, drowning beneath the weight of the silence between them. It was as present as a third person, sitting between them, glaring at her in judgment. They were halfway into Falkirk’s Seat when she finally spoke.

  “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday.”

  Kirk’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, but he nodded. “Thank you. Apology accepted.”

  She wanted to feel relief, but somehow this wasn’t enough. He hadn’t yelled at her. He hadn’t denied her his warmth, and the sense of safety his presence brought her when she asked him to sleep at her side the night before. When she woke that morning feeling his body beside hers, cooking away like a furnace beneath the covers, she almost cried. She’d wanted to curl into his arms, press her face to his chest and weep there, warm and safe. She’d berated him with such fervor, wanted to hurt, wanted to punish him for making her think for even an instant that something good might be possible – that her life could be more than simply moving from place to place, trying desperately to hide from memories. Yet it wasn’t his fault that she’d felt that way in his home. It wasn’t his fault that Rory slept easy under his roof, that she always had a full belly on her way to school, that she always knew someone would be there to meet her from the bus. How could a man with no children make a child feel so safe?

  “I’m sorry as well.”

  Joe startled, turning toward him to refute this apology. He had nothing to be sorry for.

  “I shouldn’t have responded the way I did,” he continued.

  “No, no. I was out of my head. I deserved it. I deserved so much worse.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t find words. What kind of man apologizes for being righteously angry? This wasn’t normal, was it? Resolution? Acknowledgment? Wasn’t he going to punish her? Revel in the guilt he could cause? Make her jump through hoop after hoop, all in the hopes of appeasing his righteous indignation?

  God damn it, Kirk Fenn. What are you?! She thought.

  He pulled up outside the gate of the Fenn property and hopped out to open it. Joe sat in silence, searching for something more to say. She wanted to believe this forgiveness was real, but every memory of Carson stirred fear. Joe had only ever known kindness as a calm before the storm – as a false reprieve before the world collapsed around her and her true punishment began.

  Yet as Kirk hopped back into the truck after shutting the gate, he reached across the front seat, squeezing her knee. “What’s wrong?”

  She watched him, trying to break through the façade of his gentle gaze and find the true intentions beneath. She couldn’t find anything.

  “You’re not mad at me?” She asked.

  His brow furrowed. He looked down at his hands, thinking. “No? I admit I’m a little hurt, if I’m being honest, but no – I’m not mad.”

  “I’m so fucking sorry,” Joe said again, her throat tightening. “I didn’t mean it.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you did. It doesn’t really matter in the end.”

  “It does!”

  He snorted softly. “Naw. If I’m hurt by something you said, it means I believe there to be truth in it. And that’s on me.”

  Joe stopped, staring at him in disbelief.

  He drove down the dirt roads toward the water, careful to miss the growing frost heaves and pot holes. By the time they pulled into his driveway, Joe was fighting tooth and nail for the right words to say – to fix it.

  Kirk slumped back into his seat, the truck idling there in the driveway. “Do you really think of me like that? That I have a Peter Pan complex?”

  Joe took a breath, but it caught in her throat. “No. I think you’re – I want to think you’re wonderful.”

  Kirk seemed startled by this. “You want to?”

  Joe nodded. “I do. I’m just – I’ve been so wrong before.”

  Kirk blew out through pursed, making the sound of a mildly agitated horse. Then he nodded. “When I was in seventh grade – eighth grade I think – I got picked on a lot.”

  Joe frowned at this thought. “Seriously? They weren’t terrified of you?”

  He smiled. “No. I was a tiny kid back then. Late bloomer, as they say, so I was smaller than all the other kids. And I was a Fenn – which is pretty much guaranteed social assassination so – quite the equation for abuse in Blackrock. Fenns aren’t exactly the most accepted crowd around here.”

  Joe ached at t
he thought of a baby Kirk being bullied, but she didn’t speak.

  “There was this kid named Timothy Brand that came into my class about halfway through the year. He was a bit ragged around the edges. Never dirty, but his clothes were a bit shabby, hair a bit wild. There was a small crowd of these douche bags – kids who bullied me and anyone else that looked vulnerable. They locked onto Timothy from his very first day.”

  Kirk stared down at his hands, fidgeting in his lap. “This one kid, Josh Pinelli, went up after weeks of bullying him, and gave him a friendly pat on the back, saying let’s let bygones be bygones. For a second, Timothy and I thought his abuse was over. I saw Timothy smiling and felt almost jealous right before the laughter started. That fucker, Josh Pinelli, had stuck a piece of chewing gum to the back of Timothy’s shirt.”

  Kirk stopped for a second, pinching his lips between his teeth. “I’d seen what the asshole kid did. I knew the gum was there – but I didn’t do anything. I didn’t stand up for the kid. Didn’t sneak over and let him know that Josh Pinelli was a cocksucker and help him clean up before he was humiliated – I just watched.”

  Joe felt her chest growing tight as the timber of Kirk’s voice changed.

  “I was too afraid to draw attention to myself. I knew if I stepped up, I’d get my ass beat, or they’d tease me. Call me ‘Jerk’ Fenn, the crybaby. He was my friend, but I stayed quiet and let the kid go through it alone.”

  Kirk’s eyes began to well up, and Josephine found her heart screaming, wanting to reach for him and pluck these memories away. Instead, she listened.

  “Finally, Josh Pinelli was teasing the kid in the middle of Reading class, saying, ‘why don’t you ever take a shower?’ This poor kid decided to defend himself, turning around and saying, ‘I live in a foster home with a bunch of other kids. We don’t all get a chance to take a shower everyday.’” Kirk paused, pressing his thumb to the bridge of his nose. “I hadn’t known this. Timothy and hadn’t hung out outside school, so I didn’t know what his home life was like. Finding this out kinda messed me up, but it only drove Josh on further. The abuse got so bad, Timothy was taken out of school. I’ve no idea what happened to the kid, but those words – knowing that he was already going through something like that outside of school – they stayed with me forever.”

  Josephine’s eyes spilled over, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “A year later, I hit my growth spurt, and Josh Pinelli lived in abject fear of me everyday for the rest of his school life. I think he could sense that I was just waiting for an excuse – any excuse – to beat the kid to a bloody pulp.”

  “Did you? Beat him up?”

  Kirk forced a smile. “No. Kid’s been in and out of jail for the past decade though, so karma finds a way, I suppose.”

  Josephine nodded, frowning.

  “I guess I got to an age – I hadn’t found a woman who I wanted to have children with, and I had this beautiful house to myself. I’ve been on calls with the fire department where kids were taken in from rough, rough lives. It just felt like the right thing to do - as my sorta penance for failing Timothy, I guess. I built those bunk beds and took the courses to become a foster parent. Didn’t want another kid going through that school, getting teased for something like being in the system. They’ve already got enough to worry about, you know?”

  Joe’s breath shuddered as she exhaled. She imagined Rory living in an overfilled house full of kids, all of them at sea, at the mercy of the system. What would have happened if Kirk wasn’t the man he was? Without him, where would Rory be if Josephine hadn’t survived the crash? Her heart broke silently, all over again.

  She’d never been so grateful for a man – for another person – as she was for Kirk Fenn.

  She swallowed hard. “I’m so fucking sorry for what I said.”

  Kirk shook his head. “It’s alright, Joe. I understand why you said it. I just didn’t want you to think – I just wanted you to understand. I would love to be a father. I’d be one now if I’d met the right woman. Didn’t want you thinkin I was some -”

  “I never did. I never thought that.” She stopped, floundering a moment. When she finally found words, they felt so brutally insufficient as to make her cringe. “Thank you so much, Kirk.”

  He stopped, finally looking at her. He shook his head. “You don’t need to thank me.”

  “Yes I do,” she said, barely managing to force the words out. They sat there in silence a moment, the weight of his words still heavy in the air.

  Kirk followed her into the house when the spell finally broke. Joe moved about the place with a new trepidation, as though this were her first day all over again. Kirk made his way to the kitchen, offering a sandwich, a drink, a cup of coffee.

  Joe stood by the kitchen counter, watching him there at the sink. She glanced down at her phone, careful to keep it close in case Rory’s school called. She felt almost reckless letting Rory go back to school the next day, but Patrick had made a good point – Rory didn’t deserve to live in fear. Rory deserved a normal childhood, with normal friends, and normal school days. If Josephine could spare her pain and fear, she would. Rory didn’t need to know the cruiser outside the school was for her. She didn’t need to know that there was a manhunt going on for the man who could claim to be her father. Rory deserved to finish her art project on time, and enjoy indoor recess playing Connect Four and watching Disney movies. She deserved to perform in her first band concert. She deserved a normal life.

  “And so do you, Josephine,” Patrick had said.

  Still, she watched her phone with the focus of a death row inmate watching for a call from the governor.

  Joe wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She stood just inches from Kirk now, watching him do the mundane, daily things he always did, all the while wanting to be close to him again, the way she’d felt that morning. Here in his kitchen, under the roof where he showed her only respect and consideration, under the roof where her daughter was made to feel at home when life could have wholly imploded around her. Why had she turned on him so? Why had she destroyed the nicest thing to happen to her since the birth of her daughter, in the matter of just a few moments? It wasn’t everyday a man like Kirk came around. She knew that well.

  Yet, she feared such intimacy. She feared that a gesture of loving touch would be unwelcome. How would a man respond to her wrapping her arms around him while he washed a plate less than 24 hours after she assassinated his character?

  Carson would have spurned her for simply washing the dishes incorrectly.

  “You sure you’re not hungry?” He asked suddenly, startling her from her silent self-flagellation.

  “Do you regret what happened yesterday?”

  Kirk’s hands went still on the counter, his sandwich only half made. He glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t look at her. “What do you mean?”

  Joe licked her lips, taking a deep breath. “You and I. What happened in your truck, I mean.”

  Kirk wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and turned around, leaning his hip into the counter. “No, Josephine. Not at all. Why? Do you?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  Silence returned, but neither moved. Josephine heard the sound of an old clock ticking away on the mantelpiece in the living room. It was the first time she’d ever noticed it.

  “I haven’t been with anyone, well – in a long time,” she said finally.

  Kirk nodded. “Honestly, neither have I.”

  “Really?” She asked, and her tone betrayed a hopefulness. Somehow knowing Kirk wasn’t carousing around with women in his free time made her feel less vulnerable.

  He shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve tried a couple times, when I was younger. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized I’d just as well be alone than with someone who doesn’t - you know.”

  “Who doesn’t what?”

  “Who doesn’t feel right,” he said, crossing his legs at the ankles.

  Joe exhaled in a jaded snort. “I haven’t even tried. A
few guys have put the moves on, here and there, but – I always end up saying no. Something about them would turn me off, make me think ‘Oh, there’s a red flag. Oh, that guy’s gonna turn into a controlling asshole in a few months,’ or ‘He’s gonna resent coming second to Rory.’ And I’d turn them down.”

  “All of them, huh?”

  Joe nodded. “Every single one. I haven’t been with anyone since -”

  Joe stopped. It was the first time she’d ever come close to admitting this detail of her story to anyone. Yet, somehow telling Kirk felt right – felt necessary. If she was going to say yes to anyone, it would be Kirk, and if she was going to say yes, she needed him to know.

  “The last time I had sex was when Rory was conceived.”

  Kirk’s eyes went wide, and Joe instantly felt smaller. Would he think her unappealing now? Did eleven years of celibacy make her seem undesirable, like the rest of the world had overlooked her for so long, she was some dried up prude? It was her that turned the men down. It was her choice to remain celibate. Celibate came with no snags or snares, no unhealthy relationships to weigh her or Rory’s life down. Sure, she’d been lonely much of that time, but loneliness was far more appealing than some unhappy sham of a relationship. Would Kirk understand that?

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offense, it just surprised me,” Kirk said, and Josephine realized her thoughts had played on her face.

  “It’s ok. I don’t know why, but – just felt like I needed to tell you.”