Chapter 22 Knight
KNIGHT
My axe thuds the stump of the tree, splitting the log into two perfect halves.
The air is rich with the smell of cedar, woodsmoke, and rain.
The pumpkins in my mother’s garden are nearly the size of boulders now.
The image of an epic Jack-O-lantern forms in my mind’s eye, and I decide to harvest and carve one up tomorrow.
“Bronwin!” Lachlan shouts, leaning over the back railing of the porch.
I raise my head and give him a wave in response. I hadn’t seen him there. I hope this isn’t about the goddamn rosebushes out front again. The man was too anal for his own good.
“Why don’t you come inside a minute, son,” he calls out.
And I nod, setting down my axe. Sliding off my work gloves, I lay them on the stump next to the discarded axe. I run my hands through my hair, which is unruly with sweat and rain, and head up the pathway toward Pearson House.
I approach at the back door and wipe my shoes thoroughly on the mat. Lachlan stands there, waving me inside.
“Come on in, son,” Lachlan begins, “I want to talk to you. Let’s have a game.”
As he moves to lead me into his study, I notice he is thinner than the last time I saw him—just last week. His expensive cashmere sweater hangs loosely on his shoulders, and he seems to move with a new sort of stiffness. Or is it pain?
“Scotch?” Lachlan asks me, already knowing the answer.
He busies himself with the bronze bar cart in the corner of his study.
“No thank you, sir.” I say, giving him my usual reply.
“One of these days, I’m going to convince you to have a drink with me, Bronwin.”
I chuckle. “We’ll see, sir. Every once in a great while, I’ll imbibe. I usually save it for a very special occasion.”
He hums, nodding. Lachlan knew what my father was.
He had undoubtedly heard his rage, seen the evidence of his violence.
He could probably guess as to why I generally stayed away from the stuff.
Though, he never pressured me to talk about it, and never pressed the issue.
Lachlan never said more than he needed to. I liked that about him.
Lachlan clears his throat before saying, “When your days are as numbered as mine, son, every day is a special occasion.”
Fuck. I suppose that’s true.
I nod again and incline my head to him, politely accepting the glass of branch water he proffers me.
Lachlan takes a seat in one of the two chairs in front of his large mahogany desk. He gestures for me to do the same. Lachlan spins the chess board around and centers it in the middle of the coffee table. We sit in comfortable silence for a moment as I ponder my first move.
“Things are moving quickly now,” Lachlan says softly under his breath.
I hum in reply, before moving my pawn.
“Katherine will come back. I’m sure of it. She’ll most likely open up a practice in town.”
I nod again. Thinking of Katherine, here, close to me once more… it was almost too sweet to hope for. Though, if she did return, it would be because Lachlan was gone.
“But Katherine will also not understand, you know. She will be alone and scared. It must all be handled delicately.”
Lachlan was a complex man. He loved his girls but was also distant, cold, and proud.
As a retired detective, he knew his shit and he knew how to dig up shit on others.
But I’m not certain that he ever fully got the hang of being a nurturing father.
I wonder how that affected Kat. God, did I wonder.
What was she like now? My mind wanders as my knight captures one of Lachlan’s pawns.
A low grumble escapes his lips and my mouth tugs upward in a crooked smile.
Regardless, Lachlan Pearson was an unfailingly decent man.
He had known exactly what my father was, yet he never treated me or my brother any differently for it.
Instead, he was exceedingly kind to our mother and even gave her extra bonuses around Christmas time to help out once dad was finally gone.
“I understand,” I say.
“And if everything goes awry, call Rachael. Now she… she will not want to budge. Too much bad blood there for her. But when push comes to shove, she’ll come through. If not for me, then for Katherine.”
Lachlan knew his girls. I’d give him that. Was he warm and fuzzy? No. But he was solid, and there, and he had provided for them all these years.
I lean back in the plush leather chair as Lachlan takes his time with his next move. He always slowed down the pace of the game just as I was gaining momentum.
My eyes fall to the black and white picture of Katherine that sits in a frame on his desk. Taken in her senior year of high school, after I had already escaped my home and joined the Corps.
Her long, dark hair lay in a stylishly tousled braid over her shoulder.
Her round wire-rimmed glasses only accentuated the fullness of her cheekbones, and delicate arches of her eyebrows.
The expression in her eyes held a layered mixture of determination, hope, and sadness.
God, she was so fucking beautiful, it hurt. I missed her.
Lachlan’s gaze follows my own.
“Katherine has always been something special, hasn’t she?” he asks quietly. “Her dedication to helping others, supporting them in their darkest moments.”
He always had a way of reading my mind. Probably one of the reasons I always felt so comfortable with him.
“She is so special, sir,” I whisper, my voice suddenly feeling thick in my throat.
“Mm,” Lachlan agrees. “She will need help and guidance, son. Protection. And most of all, a partner. I trust that you will be that for her. I also trust that you will wait for the opportune moment to let her know,” he adds.
I nod solemnly. “You have my word, sir.”
“You can call me Lachlan, son,” he reminds me.
“I know that sir,” I say, my eyes returning to the board between us. I move my remaining knight to c7.
He smiles as he moves his rook forward. A long stretch of silence unfurls before us as Lachlan sips his scotch, and I do the same with my water.
“How much time do we have left, sir?” I ask.
And a long while passes. Lachlan’s grey eyes lift to search my face. I’m unsure that he will even respond to me at all when his tired voice finally breaks the silence.
“Not too much longer now at all.”