Chapter Four #2
“Well, it looks like our needs are in good hands. We want to get the cottages rebuilt and hopefully next summer we can host a camp for inner-city children at risk. Get them out of their urban environment and to the country where they can have a safe place to be kids.”
“That’s . . .” It was unexpected, was what it was, but Gus hid his surprise. “That’s a real nice thing to do.”
A shadow fell across Ford’s face, and he looked away, out over the lake.
“That a SEAL tattoo?”
The frail voice caught his attention, and Gus turned from his brother, body strung as tight as a rattler about to strike.
He met brilliant blue eyes so familiar it hurt to look at them.
Both of his parents had blue eyes; his mother’s a darker shade of navy while his father’s were Caribbean bright.
Ford, Sunday, and Oliver’s were just like Porter Boone’s, though Gus, his sister Iris, and his brother Harrison all had varying shades of brown.
“It is.”
“It’s quite an accomplishment from what I gather. To make it as a SEAL.”
“It’s not for the weak.”
The older man slowly shook his head. “No, I suppose it’s not.” He tugged at the blanket across his lap, and Gus noticed several bruises along the inside of his arm. “I apologize not being here to meet you when you arrived. I’m Porter Boone.”
“You’re sick.” There was no point in beating around the bush about things. Gus was of the mind that being direct cut out the kind of bullshit that wasted time.
“Cancer.”
The proper thing would be to offer some sort of condolence, a sincere apology for being sick.
But Gus wasn’t feeling the warm fuzzies for the man responsible for splitting up a family and tossing half of it away like garbage.
His teeth clamped together so tight that his jaw ached, and he had to work at it to calm the hell down.
“What condition are the cottages in?” Ford asked.
This was fucking weird. A part of him was pissed that neither of the men knew who he was, while the other half was relieved. He took a beat and then turned to his brother.
“The bones are good. But they’re all going to need new roofing, and windows and decking.
Three of them need the floors completely redone, while the other four can be saved.
The plumbing will need to be looked at, and the wiring needs to be redone and brought up to code.
With new appliances and furniture, you’re looking at a significant investment. ”
“That’s what I figured.” He nodded. “Get me a quote and we’ll go from there.” He reached for his son. “Come on buddy. Time to go. Misha is expecting us.”
Misha. She was still alive. Thankful for the aviators covering his eyes, Gus kept his cool. The woman had been a huge part of his childhood, and damn, he’d missed her.
“Will she have her special sugar cookies?”
“I bet she will.”
“Okay. But you promised me a boat ride.”
“We’ll fit it in.” Ford glanced toward his father. “You want me to get you squared away?”
“I’m good.” Porter nodded at Gus. “I’m sure Gus won’t mind helping me inside.”
“See ya later, Papa,” Benjamin squealed before tearing down the stairs like a tornado.
Ford cracked a smile and shrugged. “Like he needs more sugar cookies.” Then, he disappeared after his son.
Silence fell between the two men, and Gus kept his gaze on the lake. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was he was feeling, but he knew it wasn’t what he thought it would be. It wasn’t familiar.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Gus nodded. Kept his gaze averted.
“I’ve lived here all my life and that view still amazes me.” Porter Boone seemed to be lost in thought. He ran gnarled fingers through his thick head of silver hair, and Gus noticed the tremor.
“Funny the things we don’t appreciate when we’re young.
They’re the things we want the most near the end.
” Porter sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, I tend to ramble on these days. Staring down the barrel at the end of things makes a man less inclined to keep things to himself. I apologize. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. ”
“I’m good,” Gus replied lightly. “Do you need a hand or . . .”
Porter glanced up then, his blue eyes as sharp and clear as the memories in Gus’s mind. He opened his mouth and was about to say something when a woman appeared, from nowhere, it seemed.
“There you are Mr. Boone. It’s time for your medicine.
” The woman smiled at Gus as she passed by and positioned herself behind Porter’s wheelchair.
She was small, barely five feet, with short cropped purple hair and more piercings in her ears than Gus had ever seen on a woman.
She had an easy smile and kind eyes, and Gus pegged her at forty or so.
“You must be the new handyman. I’m Gina. Mr. Boone’s nurse.”
“Is that what you call it?” Porter grumbled, pulling on his blanket.
“It certainly is.” She laughed and released the brake. “Now let’s get you inside so we can look after a few things, and you can have your nap.” She winked at Gus. “Nice to meet you.”
He moved out of the way, and she pushed his father past him.
The old man glanced up as they moved by, but he didn’t say another word, and Gus watched them until they disappeared inside the house.
He rubbed at the back of his neck and then rolled his shoulders before leaving the deck.
He tossed his bag into the back of his truck and climbed inside, a glance at his watch telling him that it was mid-afternoon.
He should go back to his place and start working on an estimate.
He should check in with Walker, his business partner, and see if anything needed his attention back home.
At the very least get in touch with Dozer.
He should call his mother because she’d been blowing up his phone all morning. He should call his sister and see how she was making out.
And yet, as he put his truck in gear and drove away from the Boone home, he pointed it toward the far end of the lake.
He didn’t want to think about his fucked-up family. Didn’t want to visualize how weak and old his father looked, even if he was a bastard. Didn’t want to think about Ford or Sunday or any of it.
He wanted a cold beer. The Dock was calling his name, and damned if he was going to ignore it. He thought that maybe Faith would be working if she was well enough. Then swore and shoved that thought aside as fast as it had come.
Gus knew that he needed to keep his head straight, and Faith, the woman with no last name, was the kind of complication he didn’t need.
Because she was the kind of complication that could linger. The kind that could get under skin. And Gus had no time for that shit. He wasn’t even sure why he was in Fire Lake anymore. He’d come to this place with zero expectations, and at some point, he’d be gone. The only question was when.