A Change Of Pace

by Freya Barker

  "Guys! Come and get it!" I call out, watching the twins splash each other in their rush to get to shore, water dripping off them as they race toward us. Millie and Jordan follow a lot slower, with Boulder at their heels, still appearing to be in conversation.

  "Grab a towel and dry off first," Alex instructs his sons. "You're gonna get the pizza soggy." The boys comply without complaint.

  Good kids, these two. They chatter good-naturedly all through lunch, making Millie smile, and even managing to involve Jordan in some of their antics. By the time the troops go back out to the dock, their bellies full, the twins are walking on either side of the older boy. Millie behind them with the life vests. They plan on taking turns going out on the paddleboat.

  When I turn back to Alex, I catch him tucking his phone back in his pocket. He shrugs when he notices me looking.

  "Sent Freddy a text," he explains. "Figured maybe she could pop in on her way home. She's good with kids."

  I nod my agreement. She's probably better-equipped to deal with Jordan.

  Freddy

  The clicking of the PET scan is a lot kinder on the ears than the loud banging from the MRI. Although still claustrophobic inside the full body tube, I don't feel like my head's about to blow off.

  I thought I was just getting the MRI this morning, but it turned out they had me scheduled for both. The radiologist explained that given my history, they felt it was necessary to be as thorough as possible, and suggested a PET scan would provide a more complete picture. They'd had a cancellation this morning and since I was already there, it would be easy to slip me in. He didn't say much else, he didn't need to; I get it. This is not my first parade.

  Part of me feels guilty for lying to Alex about my appointment. Omitting information is as good as lying. I tell myself it's to spare him the perhaps unnecessary worrying, but the truth is; it's easier for me not to deal with questions before I have any answers to give. It allows me the illusion that life is as normal, without having someone throw reality in my face. Selfish, perhaps, but it's the way I cope.

  Newt flits through my mind, and I feel guilt there too. It's hardly fair to him to start something now, but a selfish part of me wants that feeling of normalcy he gives me. Being seen and treated as a person, not a patient.

  When the narrow metal slab I'm lying on is slowly pulled from the tube, the hair by my ears is wet from escaping tears.

  "Are you okay?" the technician asks with concern.

  "I'm fine." I force a smile, swinging my legs over the side. "Too much time to think in there."

  "I'm sure," she says kindly.

  She leaves me to get dressed, which I do in short order. I know it will likely be a few days, at least, before I can expect any kind of feedback from these tests.

  I hate this part—the waiting. I'd rather know what I'm dealing with, no matter what the results show. Give me something to fight, and I'll throw myself into the battle completely, but don't ask me to sit on my hands; I'm not good at that.

  I'd left it so long—too long. I'd first noticed I was peeing a lot more in February or March. I didn't think much of it, until I started leaking on occasion. At my age it's not all that uncommon, so I wasn't alarmed, figuring maybe I'd hit menopause. You'd think someone with my history would know better than to make any assumptions.

  Dr. Heikal's phone call on Tuesday, with the results of the ultrasound she'd requisitioned the week before, had been sobering. The fact she'd managed to get me an appointment for these tests just two days later, a bit alarming.

  The door opens and the woman from earlier pokes her head in.

  "You're all set to go. Your doctor should have results early next week."

  "Thanks."

  I grab my purse and make my way out of the hospital, taking a deep breath when I hit outside air. All I want to do is go home, soak in the tub, and curl up on the couch in my PJs with some mindless TV. Something funny, I think.

  I turn my phone back on to check the time and notice a text from Alex. Looks like that bath will have to wait.

  -

  Alex's car is parked next to Newt's Jeep when I pull in at the end of the driveway. I can hear the sounds of laughter coming from the back of the house, so instead of ringing the bell, I walk around the side. I stop in my tracks when I turn the last corner and see two substantive bared torsos on full display. One is my brother's, so I barely spare it a glance, but the other has my full attention. Newt, with his back to me, looks to be digging a hole in his lawn. Sweat coating the rippling muscles of his back glistens in the late afternoon sun, and despite the bottle of water I just finished in the car, my mouth suddenly feels parched. Although the brief glance I got while FaceTiming left an impression, it's nothing compared to the current view searing itself on my brain. It's so unfair men often seem to get more appealing as they age—it rarely happens for women. My reason for being here briefly forgotten, I'm mesmerized, watching the powerful muscles of his arms flex as he lifts another shovel of dirt from the hole.

  "Hey, Sis!"

  Alex's voice startles me and I force my gaze to my brother, who is smiling a shit-eating grin at me. Busted.

  "Auntie Fred! Look at me!" Luke is waving his arms, jumping up and down on what appears to be a boogie board in the water. His antics cause him to lose his balance, and to the hilarity of all, he tumbles with a splash in the water.

  I'm grinning myself, as Boulder comes galloping toward me. I greet him properly before making my way over to where the guys are working. I cast a glance at the dock, where the other three kids are still heckling Luke, who is trying to get back on the board. I spot Jordan, as lively as the other two. I'd been concerned when Alex asked me to come over to check on the boy. Clearly, whatever is going on hasn't stopped him from having a good time.

  "What are you up to?" I notice it's not a hole, but a ditch they are digging.

  I try not to notice Newt, leaning with his arm on the shovel, his chin resting on top, closely watching my approach.

  "Dog fence," Alex answers.

  "I forgot. How far along are you?"

  "Just finishing up this side, down to the lake." This time it's Newt responding and I'm forced to look into his amused eyes. "We'll probably weigh the line down in the water. I want it to loop around the dock."

  "We saved that for last, gives us a chance to cool off, ‘cause it's hot as hell," my brother contributes. "Did you bring your bathing suit? We could probably use a hand."

  Wiping perspiration off my forehead, I wish I had it with me; a dip in the cool water would be nice. "No. I came straight here. I could use a cold drink, though, and can I use your washroom?" The last I direct at Newt.

  "You know the way." He gestures at the house. "Cold drinks are in the fridge, help yourself."

  I open the sliding door and am hit with near sub-zero temperatures; at least it seems that way. Feels great to get in out of the heat. The air in my car is barely cool, let alone cold, and I'm reminded to get that checked out soon. One of these hot days, it'll just crap out on me altogether.

  The powder room is off the entranceway, and I note again the purely utilitarian decor. No frills: no fancy toilet paper, scented candles, or pretty bottles, but just a plain bar of Dove on the side of the sink, and a grey hand towel on a hook.

  When I come out of the washroom, I hear a noise coming from the kitchen.

  "Beer, water, or ginger ale?" Newt asks when I round the corner. He's leaning into the open fridge appearing to take stock. I note he hasn't bothered putting on his shirt. Not that I mind.

  "Ginger ale sounds good."

  He pulls out two beers and a can of Vernon's, along with a large package wrapped in brown butcher's paper.

  "Fresh sausage," he explains when he sees me looking. "I ran out earlier to pick up something easy for us to eat. I've got two tubs of macaroni salad, a bunch of tomatoes, a big bag of pre-mixed greens, and two pies. Don't judge me." He grins at my raised eyebrow. "I'll prove my cooking skills another day."

&nbs
p; "Not judging. I'm just amazed at the quantities. And you've already proved your culinary skills to me, or have you forgotten?" I ask, tilting my head slightly. I feel a blush creep up my cheeks when I realize I'm flirting.

  Newt leans in over the counter separating us. "Not likely," he answers with a deep rumble I can feel on my skin.

  A little flustered at the intensity in his eyes, I quickly change topics. "So what's going on with Jordan?"

  "His mom dropped him off here out of the blue. Kid looks like he's had a beating, but she tried to sell it like he fell and hurt himself while roughhousing. I'm not sure what is going on. I didn't get a chance to question her because she took off like a shot. I was gonna try and talk to him, but Alex suggested maybe letting you. You're the pro."

  "Is he hurt?" I ask with a worried glance at the dock.

  "Black eye, bump on his head." Newt shrugs. "He appears to be fine. Been keeping up with your nephews all afternoon."

  "But he hasn't said anything?"

  "About what happened? No, and I haven't pressed the issue, even though I'm itching to lay into someone."

  "Dad? When's dinner?" Millie comes in through the sliding doors; all three boys close behind.

  Josh immediately comes to me, slipping his arms around my middle. Smiling down, I hug him to me, before lifting my eyes. I have to work hard to keep my face impassive when I catch my first glimpse of Jordan's face.

  "Can you say hello properly first?" Newt admonishes his daughter, who grins in my direction.

  "Hey, Freddy," she complies, before coyly turning back to her father. "So, Dad? When's dinner? We're hungry."

  "Starving," Luke adds dramatically.

  "We'll be eating soon," Newt promises.

  Jordan doesn't say anything, he just looks at me from behind his taped up glasses. I smile. "Hey, Jordan."

  "Hey, Ms. Marchand." His response is polite, but the tone is flat. He's known me almost since birth but is clearly wary.

  "I see you met my nephews?"

  I ruffle Josh's hair when he lets go of me and darts out the door, Luke following behind him. Jordan looks after them longingly before turning back to me and nods his head in answer to my question.

  "Millie?" Newt catches his daughter's attention. "Can you give Alex his beer? I'm gonna get the grill started." Newt sends me a meaningful look as he ushers his daughter outside, leaving me with the boy who has fixed his gaze on his bare toes.

  "Jordan," I draw his attention, waiting for his eyes to come up and meet mine. "Want to tell me who hurt you?" His eyes immediately dart back down to his toes.

  "I can't...I...I mean there was...I did it myself. I fell into a wall," he stutters.

  "I see. It looks painful. Did you have a doctor look at it?"

  "Mom put ice on it." The look he throws me is almost defiant. "She says it'll go away in a few days."

  "I'm sure she's right. So lucky your mom was home when this happened."

  He nods timidly, checking out my response from under the rim of his glasses. This kid is far from stupid, he knows I'm on a fishing expedition, and he is trying to gauge how little he can get away with sharing.

  "I remember back in high school, your dad had a black eye one day. He didn't walk into a wall though, he was trying to catch a pass playing football and ran straight into a goalpost."

  "Dad did?"

  "Absolutely. Just remind him, I'm sure he'll tell you. He hasn't seen you yet, has he?"

  "He's working."

  Before he realizes it, he's answered one of the questions I had.

  "What about Billy? Does he have a summer job yet?" I try for another, but this time I come up short.

  "I don't know. I should go," he adds quickly, before I can probe any further. "I think Luke is calling."

  I watch as he darts outside, runs across the lawn and straight into the water.

  "Any luck?"

  Newt is standing right outside the door. I grab my ginger ale and join him by the grill. Making sure Millie is out of earshot, I answer quietly, "He says he fell into a wall. I don't believe him for a second."

  "His mom told me he hit the coffee table."

  "I'm calling Jim. His father," I clarify when I see Newt's confused look. "He's an OPP Staff Sergeant heading up the Parry Sound detachment. It's about time he stops hiding behind his desk and looks after his boy."

  FOURTEEN

  Freddy

  "I'll keep the porch light on, Sis."

  I roll my eyes at Alex's wiggling eyebrows.

  It was my suggestion to stay until Jim can come pick up his son. He'd been less than friendly the first time I called, trying to blow off my concerns. But when I called the second time, after trying to reach Ella without success, his tone had changed. Apparently he'd not been able to get hold of her either. He mentioned being up to his eyeballs in the aftermath of a road rage incident that landed a man in hospital, but he would come around as soon as he could get away.

  I'm staying because Jim is more likely to listen to me. Call it a gut feeling, but something tells me he and Newt will not exactly hit it off, despite their shared backgrounds in law enforcement. Already Newt has little respect for the man—which I completely understand—and Jim doesn't like another alpha male sniffing around his territory.

  I wave off my brother.

  "You're a pain in my ass. Now take those boys home and put them to bed, Luke is already drooling on your upholstery."

  "Appreciate the help today." Newt steps up behind me and reaches around to clasp my brother's hand.

  "Anytime. Kids had a blast."

  We watch until his tail lights disappear at the end of the driveway. When I turn to go inside, Newt stops me, his arm pulling me close as his mouth comes down on mine.

  "Been waiting to do this all day," he mumbles, his lips still on mine.

  "We shouldn't...the kids," I manage, looking at the house.

  "Are upstairs in Millie's room."

  His head drops down for a repeat, when we're suddenly hit with headlights. I try to move out of his hold as an OPP cruiser comes up the driveway, but Newt doesn't let me get far, he keeps his arm firmly anchored around my waist.

  As I'm sure was intended, Jim takes notice as he steps out of his vehicle, raising an eyebrow at the picture we must make.

  "Where’s my boy?" Are the first words from his mouth as he walks up to us.

  "Jim, I'd like you to meet Newt Tobias, Jordan is friends with his daughter, Millie." I quickly make introductions, hoping to disarm the instant tension between the two men. Stepping to the side, I watch them shake hands reluctantly, taking the other's measure.

  "Jordan is upstairs with Millie," Newt explains. "Why don't we go out back? We can fill you in."

  By the time we bring Jim up to speed, his knuckles are white around the beer bottle Newt wordlessly handed him, and his head is hanging in defeat.

  "I never laid a hand on the boy," he mumbles. "Been tempted with Billy, but Jordan is a good kid. Smart too, smarter than the rest of our little fucked-up family combined."

  "Wouldn't trust him around my girl if I didn't think he was a stand-up kid."

  Jim lifts his eyes to Newt with a nod. "My wife, was she drunk when she dumped him on you?"

  "Don't think so. I dropped your son off at home once, and she looked under the influence then, but not this time."

  "Haven't been home much lately. Fuck...I've even slept in my office to avoid going home. Always fighting—I figured it'd be easier just to stay away. Avoid confrontation. Thought it would be less stressful for the kids. Never once did I consider..." He shakes his head.

  "Of course not." I place a soothing hand on his arm. "And to be fair, we don't know for sure what happened, but maybe this is a wake-up call."

  "She's gone, you know?" he announces, sounding crushed. "I drove past home on my way here, and she's gone: car, clothes, some pictures and belongings. Gone. No note, no anything. Just up and left me with the kids."

  Newt

  "Jesus," I his
s.

  I shouldn't be surprised at the fucked-up things people do, I've seen enough evidence of that in my career, but I'll never understand how someone can just abandon their kids.

  "I'm so sorry, Jim."

  The man lifts his gaze to Freddy, who has empathetic tears brimming in her eyes.

  "Figured you'd think I got what I deserved," he tells her, "given what I pulled on you."

  "That was another life, Jim. A long forgotten and long forgiven one."

  The reason for his initial hostility suddenly becomes a little more transparent. I was off the mark thinking it stemmed from a brotherly need to look out for Freddy's well-being. There's obviously more to their history than just growing up together in a small town. More to it, it's clear at some point he did Freddy wrong, and that gets my own protective hackles up.

  "I just never thought she'd leave the boys."

  "What?" All of us turn to the sliding door, where Jordan is staring at his father, Millie in the shadows behind him. "Mom left?"

  "Hey, buddy." Jim sets down his beer and pushes out of the chair. Jordan takes two steps forward and is caught in the large man's embrace. The poor kid loses it with his face pressed to his father's uniform.

  Behind them, Millie looks lost. "Come here, Sweet Pea." I wave her over and pull her on my lap when she gets close enough. Just like I did when she was younger. At first it seems she'll bolt, but then she leans back, settling in my arms.

  "What's going on?" she whispers, her eyes fixed on the shaking shoulders of her friend.

  "Seems Jordan's mom dropped him here and then bailed."

  -

  It's close to eleven by the time the OPP cruiser pulls out of here, a very subdued Jordan sitting beside his dad in the front seat.

  Freddy had taken Millie and Boulder for a walk, while I cleaned up inside, giving Jim some time alone with his son. The kids then headed upstairs with the drinks they'd come down to get, and finished watching their movie, while we had another beer by the fire.

  "He maintains he fell," Jim states, shrugging when Freddy asks whether he was able to get the kid to talk. "I'm not buying it for a second, but I'm not gonna push it now."