She hadn’t told him that detail yet – that she was pregnant. She wasn’t sure it was something that he was ready to hear. Perhaps once his house was being rebuilt. Perhaps when he saw his life coming back together, then he’d be ready.
But would she?
I might give birth to a bear, she often thought, and her stomach would drop. Yet, then she’d catch sight of Kirk smiling, or of the way he tussled Rory’s hair, and snuck extra chocolate chips to her pancakes, even when Joe forbade him. Joe thought of a tiny little boy, dark curls and bright green eyes, flashing his father’s smile at her as they played in the snow and her heart melted over and over. Did it matter that he might grow up to be – she searched for a word.
Magical?
“Miss? I know we’re running a bit early here, but do you think you guys might be able to seat us early?”
Joe startled, turning to find a large crowd of young people meandering in, led by a pair of gentlemen, both working hard to wrangle their wards as they filtered past.
“Of course, I think we can manage that!” Joe said, gesturing for them to follow her into the closed dining room.
“Thank you so much,” the tawny haired man said as the teenagers bobbed and weaved through the tables, settling in with a bit of a roar for their lunch. “We don’t normally come through this way, but the restaurant we usually stop at has closed up in Cherryfield.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Joe said, handing a young woman with pierced septum an open menu. “Though lovely for us!”
“You guys still got blueberry pie? I remember this place had the best blueberry when I lived here as a kid.”
Joe smiled. “Best I’ve ever had.”
He beamed. “Och! You’ve made my day!”
Gracie rushed into the dining room, looking surprised, but calm, quickly moving in to take drink orders and offer appetizers. This would be a two or three person job.
The young crowd was enjoying their drinks as the two men checked on each table, at times touching shoulders, or giving pensive looks over the menu. Joe watched their demeanor, almost confused by the familiar air they carried themselves with. They didn’t seem like tour guides to a gaggle of touristing high schoolers. They treated each one as though they might treat their own family. By the time appetizers were on the table, Joe’s curiosity won.
“Excuse me, TJ?”
The light haired man’s brows shot up in a friendly expression. “Yes dear?”
“Can I ask what this group is? Are you a tour guide or something? Or is this a school thing?”
He beamed. “That would be a fun job. No, I’m a counselor, actually.”
Joe stopped a moment, smiling. “What kind of counselor?”
“Uh, maybe social worker would be more appropriate. That’s Dave over there. He’s a counselor as well, but fancies himself a tour coordinator, of sorts. We try to take everybody down to Arcadia for a sightseeing tour around this time of year. Gets them out of the home.”
Joe smiled. “The home?”
TJ smiled. “Yeah, most of these kids are in and out of the system. We run a live in program to keep them off the streets when they’re home life isn’t great, make sure they’re safe, warm – fed, as you can see.”
Joe scanned the faces of the crowd. There were children as young as twelve or thirteen, and some as old as nineteen, most of them smiling or stuffing their faces. She thought of Kirk and the college bound Billy, and smiled.
“Here,” he said, handing her a business card. “If it would be alright with your manager, we might make this our new go to lunch stop for our field trips. Sadly, not all places are so welcoming to a crowd of rowdy kids.”
“Oh, Gracie’s the one to talk to there, but I can tell you right now, I can’t imagine Tiernan or Gracie -”
She stopped, staring at the business card a moment – at the name written in white block print just under the school’s name.
“You alright?” TJ asked, smiling.
She swallowed, glancing up at TJ as he turned back toward the crowd of kids, giving a jovial warning to a louder table. “Yeah, I just need to make a quick phone call?”
TJ excused her, and she turned for the kitchen, a new found fire to her step.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“You sure you’re up for this?” Kirk’s dad asked as they rolled down the dirt road of the Fenn property.
Truly, the answer was no. No he wasn’t sure he was ready, at all. Still, it was best to get it over with. Only way to move on, he thought.
Kirk nodded and his dad turned onto Kirk’s road, rolling along the newly cleared path, the tires pounding down into new potholes from the melting snow. They rounded another corner and Kirk could see the hill where his house once stood. The trees remained around it, blocking view of the house – or lack thereof now. Terence pulled into Kirk’s driveway, and Kirk gasped.
The place where his house had stood, the structure he’d built with his bare hands years earlier, was gone. All that was left was the concrete slab of his foundation.
Terence threw the truck into park and turned to Kirk. “You alright?”
Kirk blew out through pursed lips and didn’t speak. Instead he opened the passenger side door, climbing out to inspect the wreckage.
It still smelled of burning. It still smelled of fear and adrenaline and fury. Kirk walked slowly, approaching the oil stained concrete slab that was once the floor of his garage. He moved along the outer perimeter, his grandfather and cousins, John and Deacon, making their way over from the other side of what had once been his house. They’d been there assessing the place, cleaning up the wreckage to make way for something new, and to keep Kirk from seeing the carcass of his former home. They’d made quick work of the job.
Kirk walked the perimeter of the basement wall, staring down into what he’d so long planned to make a billiard room, and imagined the space that had once been above it –, here was where he cooked Rory pancakes every morning, here was where he made love to Joe for the first time, and here was where they found the charred remains of Carson O’Neil, his body so badly broken he couldn’t make it out of the house before the flames found him. Kirk took a deep breath, turning to face the water.
“Dock stairs survived, thank god.”
Kirk chuckled, turning to give his grandfather a sarcastic look.
Patrick saw the expression and threw up his hands. “What? You remember what a pain in the ass that was! I’d build three houses before I’d volunteer to put in another set of stairs like those. Jesus.”
John and Gramps joked for a moment about the near death experience that was building those stairs. They’d both always had a knack for exaggeration.
Even so, Kirk crossed the ground where his deck once stood and touched the first bit of remaining railing, scanning down the steps toward his bobbing boat. Even from the hill above, the dark stains were still visible in the wood planks of the dock, betraying the place where his blood had spilled. He took a moment to silently thank whatever gods might be listening. Had he not put the boat in the water when the weather grew warm, Rory might have hidden in the burning house. Instead, she knew not the heat of fire, nor the smell of burning drywall and insulation. He knew those smells well. They weren’t something he wished on any child.
“You up to getting started today, then? We can always break ground now and work without you, if you need more time,” John said, speaking softly at his shoulder.
Kirk shook his head. He’d had three weeks to recover. Three weeks of living in Patrick Fenn’s double wide trailer down on Parkhurst Lake, curled up in the arms of Josephine Dalton, still making pancakes for Rory in the early morning, though his flipping skills weren’t yet what they used to be. His shoulder needed just a bit more time.
“No. I think my mind could use the work,” Kirk said.
John slapped a hand on Kirk’s shoulder, and he flinched. “That’s the spirit! Alright, brother. Let’s have a look at those new plans!”
The Fenn boys took to
work with fervor, laying the first support beams over the foundation by mid-morning. John and Deacon were busy framing walls as Kirk and Patrick laid down the first layer of floorboard. Even with the smell of fire still clinging to every tree, the building process was going smoothly and swiftly, something Fenn projects often did. There was nothing like a construction crew that consisted entirely of bears.
Kirk and the boys had the first floor completely framed by mid-afternoon, and the new layout was taking shape as they sketched in Kirk’s ideas – a bigger pair of guest bedrooms, a smaller garage, a full second story with master bedroom, and a billiard room over the garage instead of an apartment. Despite Patrick’s feigned protests, Kirk insisted on the same massive windows facing the sea. He wouldn’t dare waste this view.
The work was leaving sweat across his brow, and they were all more than ready to tuck in to some lunch when Kirk’s phone rang in his pocket.
Joe was calling.
“Hey baby. What’s up?”
“Can you steal away for a minute?” She asked.
Kirk’s brow furrowed. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“No, no. Nothing’s wrong. I just – I was hoping you could come down real quick? Maybe have lunch here, today?”
Kirk pursed his lips, taking a deep breath. He glanced toward his dad, knowing full well Terence Fenn would let him borrow the truck if he asked.
Was this it? Had she finally realized and taken a test? Was she finally going to tell him she was pregnant?
He’d smelled it on her since he first woke up in the hospital, that subtle cozy sweetness of a woman when she’s with child. He’d known before a test would, before a doctor could decipher. He hadn’t known how to break the news to her himself. How do you tell the woman you love, the woman still trying to come to terms with what you are, that she might be pregnant with a creature just like you?
He’d thought it better to wait. He’d stopped fearing that she would leave, but this? This would be interesting.
“Yeah, I can come down. What’s up?”
Joe shuffled on the phone, her attention elsewhere for a moment. “Just come down quick, ok?”
With that she was gone, and Kirk pocketed his cell phone as the entire Fenn crowd gave him the side eye.
Blackrock Tavern was bustling in a manner he’d never seen before on a weekday – or any day for that matter. The energy was high, young people milling about by the doors, smoking cigarettes or popping gum. There was every manner of technicolor hair, pierced noses and eyebrows, and as he slipped past them into the restaurant, Josephine rushed toward the door to greet him, grabbing him by the hand to lead him into the crowded dining room. He glanced around the room at all the kids and suddenly had a moment – holy shit, I’m going to be a dad.
He swallowed, audibly.
“Here, come here,” Joe said, dragging him toward a booth. “Alright, sit there. Don’t move.”
Then Joe was gone, leaving Kirk to listen to the ruckus of a good twenty kids.
“Did you hear the new Imagine Dragons album?”
“No, I don’t listen to that crap.”
“Crap!? Dude, you don’t know what livin is!”
Kirk chuckled to himself, scanning the faces around him as surreptitiously as he could. They looked like punk kids, many of them, but there didn’t seem to be any strife, no anger or malice etched on anyone’s face. They were laughing, joking around, getting along the lot of them.
He spotted a young girl in the corner, her hair dark and curly, her face buried in a journal as she scribbled away. He wondered what she might be thinking, whether her thoughts were hopeful or not. He thought about Rory, what she would look like with his hair and his eyes, and he smiled to himself.
“Holy hell! You gotta be kidding me!”
Kirk startled, turning toward the sound of the voice.
“Is that Kirk Fenn? Holy shit, you got tall!”
Kirk stood up from the booth, his brows furrowed. He met the gaze of the beaming man, his blond hair floppy and free as he approached, his hand out to shake Kirk’s.
“Yeah, so I’m told. How’s it going?” Kirk asked, shaking the man’s hand.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
Kirk frowned, staring at the man’s face. The eyes burned into him with a strange familiarity, but Kirk simply couldn’t place it.
“TJ Brand? Though I think I still went by Timothy when I knew you.”
Kirk’s mouth fell open, but he couldn’t speak.
Timothy slapped Kirk’s shoulder as a young man came over to TJ’s side, asking if he could retrieve something from the bus. “Sure, I’ll send Dave out with you. Hey, say hello to this guy, will ya? This is Kirk Fenn.”
The young man turned to Kirk, offering a handshake. Kirk still couldn’t find words to speak.
Timothy shook the young man by the shoulders, familiarly. “Kirk was my only friend when I lived in Blackrock. He used to get teased just for being near me. He was a tiny bastard back then, though.”
The kid’s eyes went wide. “I know how that is. Why’d he get teased for being near you?”
Kirk struggled to speak. “Kids can be assholes.”
The young man snorted, softly. “You don’t have to tell me.”
With that, Dave escorted the boy out of the dining room, leaving Kirk to the mercy of his memories.
“Wow, man. It’s great to fucking see you,” Timothy said, this new, laid back air carrying through his cadence. He was no longer the timid and emotional little boy. He’d turned into the kind of man you meet while surfing, or hiking the Appalachian Trail, talking about the wonders of nature and spirituality. “Man, how’ve you been?”
The two men sat down at the booth and conversation began to flow. Kirk confessed his recent troubles, Timothy inquiring of Joe after catching Kirk glancing at her more than once. Kirk almost blushed.
Timothy shared his own story, that he’d become a counselor to troubled kids after graduating college, and was married with two children of his own. Kirk found he had butterflies in his stomach after Timothy pulled up a snap shot of his twin boys on his phone. Kirk smiled. That would be him soon enough. He fought not to let the joy crack his expression. After another few moments of catching up, Dave called across the dining room for the kids to make their way back to the bus. It was time to go.
Timothy rose from the booth. “Alright. Gotta get back to work. They’re good kids, but they’re not exactly the easiest to herd, if you know what I mean.”
Kirk nodded, standing up to shake Timothy’s hand good-bye.
“Hey, man,” Timothy said, his demeanor changing just slightly as they said their farewells. “Not to get weird or anything, but – I need to thank you.”
Kirk’s eyebrow shot up. “For what?”
Timothy took a deep breath. “The last time I saw you – that was probably the darkest time in my life. If you’d told me the next home I’d end up in would be the family that adopted me, I’d have called you a lunatic.”
Kirk pursed his lips, giving a polite nod as he fought not to betray his emotion.
“And I’ll be honest with you, man. I almost didn’t make it through Blackrock. I just want you to know, you got me through. It was good to have a friend.”
Timothy held out his hand again for one more handshake. The handshake turned into a hug that ended with both men breaking away without eye contact.
“Your lady has my number, man. I expect to see you here next time we come through.”
“You got it,” Kirk said. And with that, Timothy was out the door, jovially yelling at one of his charges to put a fire under his ass.
Kirk took a deep breath, taking in the disaster area that was the Blackrock Tavern dining room. Gracie and Joe appeared at the double doors. Gracie’s expression betrayed exasperation, but Joe was just smiling at him. He had to look away.
Damn it, that woman can see right through me, he thought.
A moment later, Joe slunk her arms around his middle,
kissing his still sore shoulder. “How’s the house? Are you ok?”
Kirk grabbed her hands, pulling her arms around him tightly. “It’s coming along. It will take some time, but it may very well be better than it was.”
Joe squeezed him, drawing a satisfied groan. “I know it will be. Do you have to head back, then?”
Kirk nodded, turning around to embrace her, kissing the top of her head. She smelled of split pea soup; the day’s special.
“Alright, well. I had Tiernan pack you something to go, so lunch wasn’t a complete loss.”
He opened his mouth to protest this, but she just smiled up at him with a smug, self-satisfied gleam in her eye. He couldn’t help but laugh. Her orchestrations had lightened his mood more than he could ever express, and she could tell. “Cheeky bugger,” he said.
He kissed the top of her head again, then her lips, letting the kiss linger a moment longer as he held her in the dining room.
Gracie hollered in the distance for them to get a room.
He gave her one last peck, smiling down at her. “I love you, beautiful.”
She smiled. “You do? When did that happen?”
Kirk smiled, giving one more kiss, then he turned for the dining room door, snagging a to-go bag from Gracie as she hauled back into the dining room for another round.
“You gonna help, Dalton, or are you just gonna stand around ogling my brother’s butt?”
Joe laughed. “Both.”
Joe began gathering plates, and Kirk slipped outside, setting his lunch onto the passenger seat before starting up the truck.
“Hey, sweetheart!”
Kirk looked up toward to tavern door and smiled as Joe waved out to him. “What’s up?”
“What time will you be done tonight, you think?”
Kirk shrugged. “Whenever you need me to be, why?”
Joe chewed her upper lip in a nervous tick. “I have something I wanted to talk to you about, later. If you’re awake and functional.”
She smiled, and Kirk smiled right back. He already knew damn well what she wanted to tell him. He couldn’t wait to hear it from her lips.
The Bears of Blackrock, Books 1 - 3: The Fenn Clan Page 27