The Fall

by Kate Sherwood

  Joe straightened up, still resting one hand on Griffin’s adoring head, and nodded at Kristen. He wasn’t wearing his cowboy hat, and he didn’t actually say ma’am, but the effect was still there. Then he glanced in Mackenzie’s direction. “I’m putting a tarp under your belfry.”

  It took Mackenzie longer than it should have to realize the man was answering his original question about what work was being done that day. “Oh. Okay. That’s a job worth coming out on a Saturday for?”

  “I was in town anyway, and Will wants to get that cleaned up on Monday.” Joe spoke as if each word was used against his better judgment. Now that Mackenzie was looking more closely, it was pretty easy to tell the brothers apart. There was the different level of friendliness, of course, but Joe also carried himself differently. Will was a dog and Joe was a cat, Mackenzie decided. A big cat, tall and powerful, but definitely feline.

  But he needed to postpone that sort of musing for another time. He tried to bring himself back to the topic at hand. “And will you be working on the rest of the jobs? It’s nice to see you, but I was expecting Will to be in charge.”

  “Will’s in charge.” For the first time, Mackenzie saw a hint of personality in the man’s impassive face as he twitched his lips in apparent amusement. “But he’s not good with heights. So I’m doing the tarp.”

  There was something appealing about that tiny hint of a smile. Something intriguing about the man’s quiet reserve. And something maddening about his total lack of interest. “Do you need any help with anything? I don’t want you to get hurt….”

  “I’ll be careful.” Joe looked down at the dog. “See you later, pup.” He nodded in Kristen’s direction. “Nice to meet you.” And that was it. He turned and walked away, heading into the nave of the church without a second glance toward Mackenzie.

  “He’s hot,” Kristen breathed when Joe was barely out of earshot. “Good face, great body! Those shoulders? Damn. And he’s got a twin? One gay, one straight?” She waggled her eyebrows in Mackenzie’s direction. “Both single? Get on the phone, baby, and get that brother over here!”

  “There is no way you get to have the straight brother when I can’t even get the gay one to look at me. No chance.”

  “Selfish,” Kristen said lightly, but she didn’t seem too concerned. “Now, show me your beautiful church. If there happens to be a beautiful man somewhere inside, that’s just a cross we will have to bear.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Mackenzie muttered. “I’m good at flirting! But I have no idea how to do it when the other person won’t flirt back….”

  “Sweetie, if the other person isn’t doing it back, it’s not flirting. It’s harassment.” Kristen paused long enough for the message to sink in, then smiled. “So show me the church.”

  Mackenzie did, and Kristen was suitably impressed. “I might actually go to a church like this. Not for the sermons, but just to soak up the atmosphere.” She eased into one of the curved pews and ran her fingers reverently along the smooth wood.

  “Well, not enough people around here felt that way, obviously. They closed the place because of low attendance.”

  They sat quietly for a while, watching Joe climbing his ladder in four different parts of the church to install ropes in the rafters. He was efficient, with no wasted movement or effort, and it was almost hypnotizing to watch him move, his muscles shifting under his worn T-shirt, his jeans snugging around his legs when he stretched in the right way, giving just a hint of the strength underneath.

  “Yeah, he’s a fine-looking man,” Kristen said admiringly. “But you’re right, I didn’t get a gay vibe at all. Well, except that he didn’t pay any more attention to me than he did to you.” She shifted sideways in the pew and stretched her arms out to the side, arching her back to press her breasts against the front of her skimpy halter top. “Am I not worthy of a little ogling?”

  “I’d ogle you all day long, if that was my thing,” Mackenzie assured her.

  “Maybe he’s involved with somebody, and he’s just really faithful.” Kristen sighed. “That’d be so romantic.”

  “Lorraine said he isn’t, and I’m pretty sure Lorraine knows what everyone in this whole town had for breakfast.”

  “Well, damn. I guess you’re just not his type. And neither am I.” She looked up at the arched ceiling, and in a dreamier tone of voice, she asked, “Are you really going to be able to save this place? Can you make it work? ’Cause I’m serious, I want this church available for my wedding, and I’m not even dating anybody right now. But it’s just gorgeous. Absolutely perfect.”

  Mackenzie flopped against the back of the pew. “I have no idea. The whole project was so much easier when I had Nathan’s deep pockets to help me out. I mean, I would have reno’ed the basement right away, hired a team of gardeners to restore that jungle outside….” He held up his blistered hands and showed the ground-in dirt that had resulted from his own attempts at gardening. “Had money for an ad campaign….”

  “But you still would have been stuck in a nontrendy area. Unless Nathan was going to go into the hotel business, you still would have been working someplace where guests can’t stay over, which means they can’t really drink at the reception, which means… good luck getting anyone to have their reception here. And even if you figure that out, you’re still someplace where there’s nothing for guests to do in between the wedding and the reception. What was the plan for all that back then?”

  “The plan was to not care all that much,” Mackenzie admitted reluctantly. “I was supposed to be a pampered boy toy who ran a quaint gay wedding chapel as a hobby. I didn’t need to make a living; I would have been happy just to break even.”

  “Maybe it’s time to walk away,” Kristen said gently. “Circumstances have changed. Maybe you need to change with them.”

  “But then what happens to the church?” Mackenzie was surprised to realize how strongly he felt about this. “I mean, it didn’t cost that much. I could cover the mortgage payments while I wait for it to sell, especially if I’m back in the city, working. But who’s going to buy it? Is someone going to turn it into a house? Because that’s not what this place should be. It should be somewhere for the community to come together, somewhere for… it doesn’t have to be worship, but it should be about connection, right? It should be… it’s special, and it should stay that way.”

  “Have you talked to the chamber of commerce?” It was a new voice in the conversation. Joe Sutton was still halfway across the church, but his words carried to them with volume and clarity that made it clear he must have been able to hear everything they’d been saying since they’d entered the room. He stepped closer, and there was another twitch of his lips, another near smile as he watched them realize how much he’d heard. But he didn’t comment on that. Instead, he said, “Will’s part of it. Local businesses working together. Something like this could bring a lot of money to the area, so they’d probably be interested. You need somewhere for people to stay, so maybe there could be B&Bs.” He shrugged. “And there’s people doing crafts up here.” He caught Mackenzie’s gaze with a look of warning. “Not just grandma crap. Potters, and wood carvers, and a guy working with glass over near Mossberg. They sell down in the city, mostly, so your trendy friends wouldn’t be slumming too hard. There’s folksy stuff too—quilts or whatever. You could set up a studio tour for people, between the wedding and the reception, and collect a commission from the artists. Get a cut from the B&B people too. Maybe you could handle the bookings for them and earn a bigger percentage that way.” He stopped talking almost abruptly, like a monk remembering his vow of silence. Then he shrugged as if he’d decided he could afford to share a few more words. “You’re right. This shouldn’t be somebody’s house. It should stay special.”

  “The chamber of commerce?” Mackenzie asked. He tried to sound less like an excited kid. “They could help with all of that?”

  “They could help with some of it.” Joe took a step backward, out of the conversa
tion. “They meet every other Tuesday night. You should give Will a call; he’d know more.”

  “Those are great ideas,” Mackenzie said as Joe retreated. He wanted the man to stay, to share more ideas and local knowledge. It was no longer annoying that Joe wouldn’t admire Mackenzie as a sex object; now it was annoying that Joe wouldn’t keep helping him with the business plan. “Thank you. Look, you heard what we were saying, and I’m sorry if you were offended. But, seriously, no subtext. We’re going to have drinks in the garden, and it’d be great if you could join us. We could bounce ideas around. You know what I mean about this church being special; it’d be really useful if you could help us keep it that way.”

  For a moment it felt like Mackenzie had won. But then Joe shook his head. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot of work to do today. I just stopped in here to do this one job.”

  Mackenzie couldn’t think of a way to counter that. “Okay,” he conceded. “Thanks for the ideas. I’ll definitely be giving Will a call. And sorry again, about… you know.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” And there it was, the little spark of connection, the recognition of a common trait as the man grinned at Mackenzie. “Never hurts to do a little ogling.” But the connection shut down just as quickly as it had been made. Joe was back to business as he said, “Another ten minutes in here, probably, and then I’ll be done.”

  “We’ll leave you to it,” Mackenzie suggested, and Kristen stood up obediently. “But we’ll be in the back if you need anything.”

  Joe nodded his understanding and immediately returned his attention to the task at hand. Mackenzie and Kristen went back downstairs to pull their bottle of wine out of the ancient fridge in the church’s spartan kitchen. Mackenzie grabbed two plastic cups, then added another, just in case.

  Kristen grinned at him. “Optimist.”

  “Did you see him when he smiled?” Mackenzie was barely whispering, newly paranoid about the acoustics of the building. “I thought I might pass out.”

  “He has a very nice smile,” Kristen admitted at normal volume. “And a tight tushy, broad shoulders, and… oh my God, a brain!”

  “Yeah,” Mackenzie said regretfully. “One that tells him I’m not his type.” He bent down to get a consolation kiss from Griffin. “At least you love me, right?”

  “I don’t know if you’re talking to me or the dog, but, yes, we both love you. Now let’s go drink.”

  They made their way out to the patch of garden that Mackenzie had gotten mostly under control and sat on lawn chairs as they drank their wine. Mackenzie had his eyes closed, relaxing in the sun’s warmth, when a sudden yelp was followed by a drawn-out series of pained yips coming from somewhere at the back of the property.

  “Griffin!” he yelled. His wine glass tumbled to the ground as he jerked himself out of the canvas chair. He looked around wildly. “Griffin!” He saw no sign of the dog. Mackenzie ran to the top of the ravine at the back of the garden, peered around a decrepit shed that was on his list for destruction, and saw Griffin on the ground, rolling and rubbing his face. At least he was moving. But as Mackenzie drew closer, Griffin raised his head and Mackenzie gasped.

  “Are those quills?” Kristen asked from behind them. “Oh my God, are those from a porcupine?”

  “Oh, baby,” Mackenzie said. He barely had the presence of mind to look around for the porcupine before approaching his whimpering dog. “Oh no, Griffin.” He looked back at Kristen. “What do we do? We can’t… we need a vet, right?”

  She glanced back over her shoulder, and her whole body relaxed. “Oh, thank God,” she said to someone coming around the side of the shed. “Griffin’s hurt.”

  Joe Sutton appeared a moment later, took one look at the dog, and shook his head. “Damn,” he said. “That’s a good nest of them. He must have gone back for a couple tries.” He squinted a little. “He’s got some in his paw too. I guess he took a swat at the thing, or maybe it caught him with its tail.” He looked at Mackenzie. “We can try to pull them out, but there’s a lot of them, and near his eyes. I’d take him to the vet. Have you got one up here?”

  “No,” Mackenzie said, trying not to cry. He couldn’t stand seeing any living creature in pain, and when it was one he loved it was much, much worse. “Do you?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Joe crouched down next to the dog and held his hand out cautiously. “Some dogs bite when they’re scared, but he doesn’t seem like the sort. Which is good, ’cause we’d have a hell of a time getting a muzzle on him through all those quills.” He looked at Mackenzie, and his voice was gentle as he said, “This isn’t a big deal. It’s scary, I guess, but dogs get into porcupines all the time. The vet’ll sedate him, pull the quills, and maybe give you painkillers and antibiotics or something. He’ll be good as new in a few days.”

  Mackenzie nodded and tried to collect himself. Joe knew what he was talking about. This would all work out. “Okay,” he said. “What should I do?”

  “Can you carry him? Keep him from pawing or rubbing; he’ll just push them in deeper. I’ll call the vet and let them know we’re coming.” Joe checked his watch. “I think they’re still open.”

  “What if they’re not?” Mackenzie wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

  But Joe didn’t look too concerned. “I can call Tim at home. He owes me a couple favors. But he’s probably still working.”

  Mackenzie knew what he was supposed to do. He was a grown man, and he should thank Joe for his help, say he could take care of it, and then do so. But Griffin was trembling, staring up at him with confusion and need in his big brown eyes, and Mackenzie had to use all of his strength and self-control in order to properly comfort his dog. So he didn’t object to Joe’s mastery. He just wrapped his arms around Griffin’s thin body and lifted him as gently as he could. Kristen fussed around them, useless but concerned, and Joe pulled his phone out as they walked to the car.

  “Trish? Hey, it’s Joe Sutton. … Hi. I’ve got a dog with a face full of porcupine quills. Can Tim take care of it? … No, not Red. Not this time. He’s a friend’s dog. … Yeah, thanks. We’ll be there in about five minutes.”

  They were at the parking area by then, and Mackenzie paused in indecision. But Joe was still in charge, pulling open the back doors of his crew cab pickup truck. “I’ll drive. Mackenzie, let me hold him for a second while you climb in, then I’ll pass him to you. Kristen, can you just keep an eye on his paw and his head, make sure he isn’t brushing the quills against anything? They’re barbed, so the deeper they go in, the harder they’ll be to get out.”

  Mackenzie tried to smile as he let Joe lift the suffering dog from his arms. “Thank you,” he said.

  “He’s going to be fine.” Joe waited for Mackenzie to scramble into the back of the truck, then carefully maneuvered the dog in through the door. Kristen watched from the side, then raced around to the passenger door and jumped in.

  Joe made sure Mackenzie had a good grip on the dog before he swung the door shut and climbed easily into the driver’s seat. It only took them a few minutes to get to the vet’s, and then there was a blur of activity as Mackenzie carried the dog inside and held him while he was examined.

  “We’re going to give him a full anesthetic,” the vet said. “It’ll make it easier to remove the quills and less traumatic for him. He’ll wake up with a sore face and a bit of a hangover, but no memories of people hurting him. You can stay while we’re putting him under if you like, but then you’ll need to go to the waiting room.”

  “I can’t stay with him?” He looked down at the paperwork the assistant had handed to him and signed it without reading.

  “We’ll be more efficient without you,” the vet said bluntly. “And once he’s asleep, Griffin won’t know whether you’re here or not.”

  “Joe’s in the waiting room,” the assistant said. She smiled softly. “He’ll keep you company.”

  Mackenzie wasn’t sure what relationship the assistant was imagining between himself and Joe. “He thinks I’m
an idiot, getting this upset about a few porcupine quills.”

  The assistant’s laugh was more like a snort. “There are people up here who might judge you for that, but Joe Sutton is not one of them. The man looks after his animals like they’re his babies.”

  “And looks after that baby like he’s the future king of England,” the vet added with a smile of his own. He and the assistant were busy with their hands as they chatted, preparing whatever solutions they were going to use, shaving a little patch of fur off poor Griffin’s front leg, and finally slipping a needle into that naked skin. Mackenzie could feel Griffin’s body relaxing almost immediately.

  “We’ll probably be about forty-five minutes,” the assistant said, “and then a while longer for the anesthetic to wear off.” She had her hand on Mackenzie’s shoulder and gently guided him toward the door. “We can keep him overnight if you want, but that’s not really necessary as long as there’s someone at home to keep an eye on him. He’d only be getting checked on every other hour here, so if you can be with him—”

  “I can be,” Mackenzie said fervently. He wasn’t sure he would ever let the dog out of his sight again. “And I can call you if anything goes wrong? Is there a list of things I should be looking out for? Is there an Internet site you’d recommend, or some reading about aftercare, or… anything?”

  The assistant smiled. “We’ll give you a sheet to take home, and it’ll have emergency numbers on it. If you want any other details on helping dogs recover from quills….” They were in the waiting room now, and she smiled sweetly in Joe’s direction. “You’ve got an expert right there.”

  Joe didn’t stand, just nodded laconically in her direction. “It’s getting so I don’t need you at all, Trish. And without Red… no more overtime pay for you.”

  “I could survive.” Her tone got a bit more businesslike. “We’re looking at an hour or so. You’re all going to wait?”

  “We drove over together,” Joe said.

  Shit. That was true. Joe had said he had things to do, and instead he’d been hijacked into this adventure, and now he couldn’t leave because he was the only one with a car. “We could go back to the church,” Mackenzie said reluctantly. “While he’s asleep. You could drop us off and we could come back in one of our cars.”