Chapter 15- Finish
Oscar couldn’t seem to contain himself. He bounced in the seat as if a family of red ants had crawled up his pants legs and was gnawing away at his bunghole.
After two hours, Bad Apple believed a merciful deity had put the child to sleep for at least an hour, but he popped up like a hydrated daisy, flapping his lips.
Finally, he asked, “Oscar, can you share with me why you’re so antsy?”
“Uncle Jay is gonna grill,” he said, smiling. “I bet it is going to be juicy steaks and some sausages that we can have for breakfast in the morning before we head out on our man adventure!”
“Juicy steaks, huh? I mean we grill steaks at home,” Bad Apple said, feeling some sort of way.
“Yeah, but you don’t really know how to grill-grill,” he said. “Plus, I bet the house is gonna smell like whatever sweet treat Aunt Helen is pulling out the oven. I just know her house smells like a warm hug on a cold day.”
“That is mighty descriptive.”
“You know what else, Mr. Milton?” Oscar said, turning in the seat. “The room I’m going to sleep in tonight, Aunt Helen did something special, so I can feel comfy in it. I just know it. She cares like that. I’m excited. How much longer?”
“Not much,” Bad Apple replied.
He too wanted to see the home and also bet it smelled like memories from childhood.
Maybe he missed his annoying brothers and meddling sisters, but not enough to be around them on a regular basis.
Helen was a different story. There was a connection between them and she trusted him.
That lady didn’t trust many people, and if he’d earned a seat in her wagon to spend the night in her home without her man present, gay or not, he was again feeling some kind of way.
Apple hit the turn signal and exited the interstate.
The GPS led him down a back road where he saw nothing but trees, then a wrought-iron gate he couldn’t see through.
He checked the address again, ready to call Cranberry, but the gates opened.
The speedometer read five miles per hour as he rolled through the gates, taking in the outbuildings, the dumpster loaded with old wood and carpet, and Helen’s pickup truck. He didn’t see the Explorer.
Mustang stood on the back deck manning the grill, and Oscar grinned from ear to ear, as he held up his hand for a high five.
“I can smell sausages,” Oscar said., grinning.
Helen pointed to a parking space that Apple pulled into, parked, and cut the engine. An anxious Oscar bound from the car and up the back stairs of the decking, throwing himself at Helen. A lopsided grin was offered to Mustang, then he asked, “Uncle Jay, are there steaks on that grill too?”
“Taking them off now, Oscar,” Mustang replied. “How are you?”
“Pretty excited for the weekend,” he said. “I’ve been reading, practicing using paddles for the canoe, and everything. Mr. Ricky helped me learn to pitch a tent, and Mr. Milton showed me how to start a fire with a flint, I think it’s a flint. So, yeah, ready.”
Mustang looked to Apple as he walked up the steps and only shrugged. Helen was paying close attention to the man as well, who had brought with him two carryon bags. One was the new one she’d ordered and sent to the house for Oscar with a portion of the money he’d given her for such an item.
“Welcome to our home, Apple,” she said softly, opening the door for him to follow her inside.
A bell dinged, and she excused herself to pull a peach cobbler from the oven. The home was filled with the warmth of the scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, and the aroma of warm peaches hidden under flaky pastry dough. His mouth nearly watered as she closed the oven.
Apple noticed the kitchen towels on the door rack of the oven, taking note that they said “Neary.” Oscar for once was quiet as he walked through the house, but Apple was drawn to the photos on the mantle over the fireplace.
He moved in closer to look at the images, immediately noticing Cherry.
Then the man next to her, next to the photo of Cherry with a child and again the man next to her.
“Wait a minute,” Apple said. “Isn’t that...what is that dude’s name...Slow? Mr. Slow in Kentucky. He’s the closer in Kentucky for the Directions Crew, right?”
Mustang mumbled an answer as he brought inside the steaks on a platter to rest. The more Apple looked at the photos, the more questions he had, especially after he spotted Mark Neary.
“Hey, isn’t that Mark Neary? He’s the Marshall down in Kentucky...you’re with the Neary’s? How do you know those guys?”
“Cherry is married to my brother Michael, who is Mr. Slow,” Mustang said.
“Hold the bleep up! You’re a Neary?”
“Jarius Neary at your service,” Mustang said to his shocked face.
Helen, placing dinner settings on the table, added, “That is nothing. Cherry is my sister. Let me get you settled so you can wash up, and we can eat.”
Oscar had gotten quiet, making Apple look for the child, and he discovered him in the hallway, his cheeks coated in tears as he looked at the images on the wall.
Concerned, Apple raced forward, stopping short when he also spotted the images, especially seeing the one of Oscar and Mustang.
Oscar focused on the image of him and Mustang making the desk.
“Are you okay son?” Mustang asked.
“I look so happy,” Oscar said. “I look like a normal kid making a project with his dad. It’s beautiful. Aunt Helen, did you take these pictures?”
“I did.”
“I don’t see one of you and Mr. Milton,” he pointed out.
“I haven’t chosen the one I want yet to go on this wall right here,” she said, pointing. “I do have a spot for it all picked out. Come on, let me show you to your room. Apple, yours is there, and Oscar you’re here. The bathroom is in front of you, so snap to.”
“Yes Ma’am,” they both said as Oscar walked into the room.
Disappointment hit him hard when he didn’t see any furniture, just a bed and a shelf with a few books. There wasn’t even a building block set in the room, but then he caught himself. “She is going to let me and Uncle Jay build the furniture for the room.”
He walked out, happier than a clam.
“Your house is awesome,” he announced as he went to the bathroom and washed his hands. “Even the soap smells cool.”
Apple didn’t have much to say as he took in all the cutesy shit with monogramming, matchy-matchy, and warm colors. All of it was fine, but for the damndest reason, he wanted to see her weapons cache and the craft room.
“I saw that,” Helen said to Apple.
“What? I didn’t say nuffin’,” he said, laughing.
“I don’t have a weapons cache yet; my 007 credentials only arrived a day or so ago,” she said. “I’ve only had one assignment which was a fetch and deliver, which paid squat, so no real ducks to help fill my pond.”
“If it is okay with your husband, I can gift you a few tools,” Apple said.
“Naw, I want to build the storehouse a piece at a time,” Helen replied. “There were two questions on your face; what was the second one?”
As dark as the man was, Helen saw him blush. “The craft room. Does it have bookcases with stacks of fabrics with hidden compartments to hold weapons?”
“Yes, it does,” Helen said, laughing. “I’ll show you after dinner though. I’m hungry.”
Mustang didn’t say much during the reunion. He noticed the ease Helen had with Apple, even more so than with him. It didn’t make him uncomfortable, more so the opposite. In this man, she’d made a friend, a person she could go to, a person she trusted. Therefore, Mustang trusted him as well.
“I can hear you thinking over there, Mustang,” Apple said across to the table.
“I can say it out loud,” Mustang replied. “My wife is at ease with you, which she isn’t with any man, not even her own father. It says a lot about you as person, but even more about you as a man.”
Apple watched his expression closely as he made the next statement, “Does it bother you I am batting for the other team?”
“You plan to batter up in my home?”
“Of course not,” Apple said, offended at his words.
“Then, we’re cool,” Mustang said. “Oscar and I will head out tomorrow for the weekend, and I can feel confident that while I am away, you and Helen will get a lot done on her office, which she can show you in the morning.”
“Good enough,” Apple said.
Oscar, eyeballing the steaks, asked, “What are we doing in the morning Uncle Jay, and what time are we heading out?”
“Noon,” he said. “We will reach the campground at two, set up the tent and cots, maybe get in some fishing for our dinner as well.”
“Are we gonna canoe?” Oscar asked. “I’ve been practicing.”
“Yes, we have to load all that up in the morning as well,” Mustang said, doling out the steaks.
After a quick prayer, nothing was heard but the clacking of forks and knives to ceramic. Apple looked up and nodded his head at Mustang, who had no idea what that meant.
“You can grill-grill,” Apple said. “These steaks are actually succulent. I don’t use that word often, but they are simply delicious.”
“Thanks,” Mustang said, scowling.
“I want that peach cobbler. Aunt Helen, please tell me there is vanilla ice cream to go with it,” Oscar said.
“I have vanilla ice cream,” she replied.
Oscar stood up. “I’m sorry, Mr. Milton, but you can return to Wisconsin without me. I’m staying here and getting fat!”
Everyone at the table laughed, but Mustang knew the boy meant it. He hoped the weekend went well for the two of them and based on the child’s reaction to seeing the photo in the hall, perhaps, this is where he belonged. He only hoped the weekend for his wife and Apple was as productive.
When he returned, he again was at a loss for words for what two fruits had made happen in less than 48 hours in one small bowl with a few nuts.
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