"You remember coming out here?"
Jonah nodded. "We had fun, eh?" He walked to the opposite side of the bridge. It was just big enough for one car to drive across at a time, and truthfully it wasn't any longer than a car length anyway. The river fowed in from one side, the manmade banks surrounding it with large slabs of rock. The water fowed under the bridge and out to the opening to Lake Temiskaming, past the small power generator station.
A lifetime ago they used to come out here with the beer Neil had charmed out of old Mrs. Taggert. It was weird now to think about the fun they used to have in this very spot, all laughing like lunatics and daring each other to pull crazy stunts. Smiley and Jackson, Jonah and Neil. Once upon a time the four of them had been nearly inseparable. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even talked to any of them. Probably the last time he'd spoken to his mom. Fuck. He didn't want to be here.
Both men stayed silent, Jonah trying to fgure out what to say. He assumed Neil was lost in memories, but he may just as well be trying to fgure out how to make a clean escape.
Neil stepped to the other side of the bridge, crouching down and running his fngers over the gravel. Picking up a smooth stone, he grinned at Jonah.
Heart pounding, Jonah tried to dredge up a smile in return. This was one of the reasons he'd started to avoid Neil that last year of school. They'd been in Grade 13, so damn close to graduating, all talking about where they were going to go for university.
Hell, it wasn't as if any of them had plans to stay in the TriTowns. They all wanted to get the hell out and start exploring the world.
It was around that time that Jonah had frst started realizing there was a reason his palms got sweaty and his knees weak whenever Neil came around.
It was the same reason he couldn't risk spending time with his friends. Every time they started talking about the girls they were interested in, he didn't know what to say. If he could have told anyone it would have been Neil.
The fact that he still didn't know how Neil would react at the admission scared the living daylights out of him. He couldn't risk losing his respect.
Now look at him. He hadn't even seen him in person in ten years. Nearly a lifetime.
"Did you hear Smiley had a kid?" Neil turned, finging the rock into the river. They both watched it skip before sinking.
"Yeah, Rita-Anne said something about that. I can't believe he managed to get some woman to look at him, let alone decide to procreate."
Neil snorted. "I went to his wedding, you should have seen the look on his face. The dork was petrifed, but he was so damned happy. He's got stars in his eyes every time they're together. Hell, I can't come up here without him cornering me somewhere and showing me pictures of his little one. Cute kid."
"Yeah?"
"Looks a lot like his mom."
"Thank God."
"Thank God."
Jonah started, laughing a bit at the comment made in unison. They'd used to do that back then. Finishing each other's sentences, saying the same thing at the same time.
"You ever see Jackson around?" he asked, trying to distract himself.
"Last I heard he moved down to Michigan. Working in some mine. Mom keeps track of all those guys. She's always telling me what everyone's up to."
"Must be nice." Damn, he shouldn't have said that.
"Hmm."
"So, why Gravenhurst? You didn't want to live anywhere else?"
Neil shrugged, bending down to pick up another rock. He threw it before answering, his words slow to come. Jonah was used to it, found himself falling back into the familiar patterns of youth. Neil always had taken forever to speak.
"Had to for the team. We're based out of the Gravenhurst offce. I mean, we move around a lot when we're on our rotation but for the most part, the majority of diving is done around the area. Approximately 80% of our calls are within a 400 km radius from Gravenhurst, so it just makes sense to have the team stationed there."
"You like it?" he asked, curious about what made Neil tick now.
"It's challenging. I never thought I'd be doing it but I really like it. Never thought I'd make the team, either, but it all worked out for the best. What about you? You like what you do?"
Jonah turned away, looking out over the lake. "It's not easy,
but I like working with the kids. They've had a lot of shit in their lives, but most of them are good kids, they just need a bit of guidance."
"Never thought you'd be a social worker. I tell you, could have knocked me over when mom told me what you were taking in university. Then to fnd out you work with troubled kids. Didn't see that."
Jonah bristled. "What did you think I'd be doing?"
"I don't know. Business or something. Actually, I always fgured you'd stay here. Get a job in the Tri-Towns."
"That will never happen."
Neil walked up beside him, studying him quietly. "Why'd you leave, Jonah?"
Shocked that he'd ask that, Jonah didn't know what to say. Shaking his head, he lowered his gaze to the ground. He couldn't say anything. Didn't know what would come out of his mouth if he tried right now.
Neil must have gotten the hint. "I'm glad you're back. I'm at mom's house with the hellion, David. If you want to get together, give me a call. I'm sure Smiley would love to see you."
"Thanks."
"See you around, Jonah."
He nodded, watching Neil walk away from him, tension in his shoulders.
"Why'd you have to do this, Mom? Why now?" He fung his coffee cup into the lake, watching it bob away on the current. "I wish I could hate you. I wish... well, fuck if it matters what I wish. Isn't that the morale of our little story? You can never come home. That was your rule, wasn't it? Well, I guess I'm about to break it, Mom. Welcome home, Jonah. Welcome the fuck home."
chAPteR two
It had been a decade since he had last turned down the road to his house, but it all seemed like yesterday.
Hell, even driving through town had been like an uncomfortable trip to the past. A few new faces, a few more residents in the cemeteries, but overall, it was exactly the same. He didn't know how to deal with it.
Even the fateful trip to the coffee shop had been fraught with too many things that reminded him of his old life. The one he'd run away from.
Actually, that wasn't true. It wasn't the same. It never would be again. He'd only been back for two hours and already he couldn't stand the silence.
Getting off that plane and driving North had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Never again would he be welcomed by his mother's cheerful voice. Never again would he smell freshly baked bread in that kitchen, have his fngers smacked for sneaking a loaf. He would never get chastised for breaking a window, never feel her arms embrace him.
There was still so much left unsaid between them. So many things he wished he'd been able to fx. He'd left home after graduation and he'd never come back. Never even looked back to be honest.
He'd always meant to return one day. He was happy in Calgary. He never wanted to live in his father's house again.
He'd just never imagined the reason for his homecoming would be to bury Mom.
Up ahead he could see the house, the cheerful yellow paint like sunshine to his mood. He had always loved... what the fuck?
Flowers lay strewn over the lawn, clumps of soil and broken petals pushed around by the wind. He was barely aware of getting out of his vehicle, couldn't remember running to the fower beds.
His mother's pride and joy. Ruined.
Who would do something like this?
Shocked, he made his way to the back door, knowing it would be open. His mom had never locked the door when he'd lived here. He was guessing that hadn't changed. Sure enough, the door opened on his frst try.
The smell hit him frst. Garbage, decaying food. He wasn't sure he wanted to go inside. What had happened here?
"Dad?" he called out.
Stepping up the four steps into the kitchen he couldn't believe the sight
before him. It was a complete mess. Broken dishes, food lying around. He was afraid to take off his shoes, who knew what the hell was on that foor.
Turning the corner, he reached the living room, crying out at the destruction to his mom's crystal animals. He bent down, touching one broken swan, tears swimming in front of his vision.
"So, the proverbial fag has returned." The voice was slurred, but it did nothing to dilute the pain in those words.
Jonah sighed, his shoulders tensing. "Hi, Dad."
"Don't call me that!" his dad hissed. "You're no son of mine. Little pansy assed freak."
Unwilling to let his dad see how much that hurt, Jonah straightened from the foor, picking up the shattered swan. He turned, simply staring at the man who had raised him.
His hair was a wild tangle, something the old man would never had let happen before. He stank of booze, his clothes disheveled. He smelled like he hadn't had a bath in the last week and a half. His father was listing to the side, the bottle of bourbon pulling down his right arm. Scratch that, the empty bottle of bourbon. Christ, no wonder the old man smelled like a distillery.
"What'd you do in here?" He swept his hand out, indicating the destruction around him. He didn't understand this. His dad had been the most controlled man he'd ever met. This... this was a broken shell in front of him.
"Get out of my house!" Michel swung out with his bottle, not even coming close but Jonah stepped back anyway. Glass crunched under his shoes. He had a feeting thought that his mom would tan his hide if she found out he was wearing shoes in the house and then the pain of memory flled him. He couldn't breathe for a moment, overcome with the realization that his mom wouldn't ever tan his hide again. It was nearly too much. He chest seized, a hard weight pressing in on him.
"Dad..." He didn't know what to say. He knew how much his father must be hurting.
The bottle few past his head, smashing against the wall. Jonah ducked, feeling the small shards ricochet against his back. Christ.
"Damn it, Dad, cut it out! Look what you're doing to Mom's house!"
"Sortez! Get out of here now!"
The back door slammed open, pounding feet up the stairs and into the kitchen. "Uncle Michel?"
Jonah glanced to the door in time to see his spitfre of a cousin enter the room, a haggard expression on her face. "Jonah! Oh, mon petit chou-feur, comment sont vous? When did you get here?"
"Reet." He held open his arms, hugging his cousin close. Inhaling her familiar scent, he was reminded again of his mom. They smelled the same. Oh, God, he couldn't do this. "J'ai été meilleur," he whispered into her hair.
"I know, petit chou-feur. I know. It will get better, though, you know this." Rita-Anne sniffed, burrowing her face into his chest. He tightened his hold, grateful that someone wanted him here. "How long?"
"Few hours. I went to Tim's frst."
She gave a watery chuckle. "Naturellement."
"Rita-Anne, get that fag out of my house. He isn't staying here."
Rita-Anne pulled back, frowning fercely, holding on to Jonah's shirt. Her eyes were shadowed, deep circles evident. He wanted to fold her up again, but he knew better when she had that look on her face.
"Michel Chevalier, you should be ashamed of yourself! Auntie Jane would not allow that language in her house." She let go of Jonah, placing her hands on her hips, staring down his drunk father.
This hadn't been an easy week for any of them, he knew, but he was starting to guess that things had been tough for her. She lived next door, would have been expected to take charge of things after his mom died. Why hadn't she cleaned this mess up? She hadn't been shocked at the state of it, so why was it still like this?
"Both of you get out!" The old man picked up a paperweight, one of the items that had survived his destruction. He fung it carelessly, the heavy glass gouging a hole in the hardwood foor.
Jonah finched, his reactions a fraction too slow. If he'd thrown that a little harder it would have hit Rita-Anne.
Okay, enough was enough. "Assez! Fuck ostie, get a grip and stop this. You think this is what she'd want? You destroying everything she treasured, the things she worked so hard putting together? Assez! Enough!" He clenched his fsts, two seconds away from punching the old man in the face. His mom would be so ashamed to see her house like this.
Michel turned his back on him, the straight spine a familiar sight. Well, some things never changed.
"Come on, Jonah, you can stay with me. Henry won't mind the company."
"Watch your husband, Rita-Anne, wouldn't want this fag crawling into bed with him."
The words cut deep, but Jonah wouldn't let that show. Ignoring his dad, he walked into the kitchen, unable to look around. He nearly ran down the stairs, aware of the raised French voices behind him. Rita-Anne was ferce when she got riled up.
A blond man stood next to his rental car, lips pressed together.
Henry Bradford glanced at Jonah, waiting for him to come closer before holding his hand out. "Jonah, I'm sorry about all this."
"Thanks, Henry." He grasped Henry's hand, taking note of the sorrow flling his blue eyes.
"Should I go rescue him? She sounds mad."
Jonah chuckled, the sound freeing up something inside him. "You married a hellion."
"Yeah, but it was worth it. You staying with us?"
Another piece loosened in his chest. He hadn't even realized it had been there. This easy acceptance meant the world to him. "If it's okay with you. Dad said something about me crawling into bed with you, though, so you better watch out."
"Hell, if your feet are warm you're welcome to hop in. Reet has the coldest feet I've ever felt, no word of a lie. The woman waits until I'm all sleepy and then she tries to tuck them between my legs. Instant icicle, I'm telling you." Henry mock shuddered, a huge smile on his face.
"Yeah, yeah. I can tell how much you hate that."
Henry shrugged. "Got a bag?"
"Just the one."
"Think we should move your car before the old man realizes it's yours and attacks it with the remains of the fower bush?"
Jonah rubbed his chest, looking at the remains of his mom's pride and joy. "How long's he been like that?"
"Since she was admitted to the hospital. I'm sorry we didn't call you sooner, but she said she was fne. I had no idea this was going to happen. It was just so fast."
Yeah, that sounded like his mom alright. "It's okay."
"No, it isn't, but you're with family now. We take care of our own." Henry smiled at the spitfre coming out of the back door, holding his hand out for Rita-Anne. Not saying a word, Jonah retrieved his bag from the car, following them down the sidewalk and up the pathway to the small house they owned.
chAPteR thRee
Jonah inhaled deeply the minute he stepped inside Rita Anne's home. Freshly baked bread, cinnamon, nutmeg. Just the way his mom's house was supposed to smell.
"How's everything going?" Henry asked, gesturing for him to drop his bag at the back door. Rita-Anne instantly disappeared down the hallway leaving the two men alone.
"It's been better. I wasn't sure I'd be able to get time off, but luckily one of my co-workers stepped up."
Jonah slid off his shoes, walking sock-footed into the kitchen. Rita-Anne's house was set up almost identically to his parent's home. A small bungalow, the front door opened up into the living room, but no one ever used that. Instead, everyone came in through the side, directly into the kitchen. The side door opened into a tiny landing where a staircase led downstairs and three steps led up into the warm room. It in turn led to the living room and a narrow hallway where three bedrooms and a single bathroom completed the living space.
At home, Jonah had always lived in the basement. His dad had built a small room for him in the mostly unfnished lower level, just the place a teen-aged boy needed to get some space. It had been nearly as long since he'd been in this house, but already he could see the changes Henry and Rita-Anne had made. Her parents used to live here, befor
e moving south to Toronto. The cupboards looked brand new, gleaming marble covered the counters. It was all done in neutral gray, a far cry from the brown and yellow it had been the last time he'd been here.
"Don't you automatically get time off for a parent's death?"
Jonah shrugged, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table and sinking down onto it. "Easier said than done. I mean, sure, I get the time off, but if I can't fnd someone to fll in at work then I'm SOL. Hard to argue with that."
"I guess." Henry sat across from him, passing him a beer. He hadn't even seen Henry grab the bottle.
Broken Rules Page 2