Chapter 32 - Dean
Dean
“Arms up.”
Weston raised both arms. “Like this?”
“That’s how your thumbs get broken.” I readjusted his stance and moved his fists into a better position. “That’s better. See this? If I hit here, that’s better than your rib cage, yeah?” I bumped the fleshy part of his forearm.
We continued training until I deemed his blocking skills sufficient.
“I did it!” Weston blocked another punch. “I did that!”
“You’re improving. We’ll work more tomorrow.”
We stood in the Sutton living room, furniture shoved aside for practice.
“Let’s go before it’s dark. I don’t want you tripping on a hole in the ground or walking off a cliff because you can’t see as well as you think.”
“My dad told me that once,” he said. I pitied the kid, knowing how much the man’s absence affected him.
“Wise man. Another thing before we leave. Can you skin an animal?”
“My dad sometimes took me hunting. I skinned a deer once, with his help.” Weston’s nose wrinkled at the memory.
“Good enough. Come on.” I took him outside to the open garage. “It’s not much, but it’ll help your family a little. Fresh meat.”
Weston stared at the two rabbit carcasses I’d hidden behind a cooler.
“We aren’t allowed to hunt,” Weston said.
“I’m not one for following rules. Ask your mother about me. I’ll bet she has a few stories.”
“She don’t.” Weston’s voice cracked. “She appreciates what you did. Says more people around here need to be like you.”
I squatted and cleared my throat. “It’s only a couple of meals. We’ll drop more traps after this next trip. Don’t wander through town with those, you hear me? We don’t need people asking questions. Can you do that?”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
Do what the sheriff said, or you’ll end up on your knees begging to feed your family. How could I not help? “Good. Finish these rabbits if you want to feed your family tonight.”
“Thanks, I will.” Weston did the work with more skill than I expected, considering his limited experience. “Thank you again for helping us.” Bundled up against the growing cold, he set out on his walk into Deer Lake.
“You’re worth taking care of. Never let anyone tell you different,” I called out while he was still in earshot.
He’d transferred the need for a father to me, as I’d once tried with Bill Sutton. That experience influenced my relationship with Weston as much as the boy himself did.
I should go. Lily waited for me, and I missed her. Instead, I took a quick trip through the woods, ignoring a snapping twig behind me. Weston put me in an odd mood, pushing me to confront what I’d ignored. My childhood home. What purpose did visiting a rundown home filled with sore memories serve?
I stepped out of the treeline and stumbled to the ground.
The house didn’t match the worn-out picture in my head. The fresh blue paint and roof gave its careworn features new life. Those, along with the modern windows and recent landscaping, created something unrecognizable.
The place I grew up in no longer existed, leaving no trace of my unhappy childhood or unmourned father. All those years erased, and a stranger’s home stood in its place.
A second twig snapped behind me. I didn’t ignore this one.
“You can come out of your hiding spot, Henry. I know you’re there.” He’d done this since we returned from our trip, and I wanted to know why.
Henry appeared from behind a narrow pine tree. “How did you know it was me?”
“Lucky guess. Was it the sheriff or the mayor who ordered you to follow me? You aren’t here on your own. Tell me so I can get this over with.”
Henry’s throat bobbed through his red, leathery skin. “The mayor. If Sheriff Gustafson is involved, I have no idea. Me and Bill Sutton go back a long way.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“The truth. You helped that boy, and I know you did some hunting when you shouldn’t have.”
“And will you share that information with the sheriff?”
He looked over my shoulder toward the blue house. “We aren’t friends. What would I say to him?”
“Right answer.” Satisfied, I lost interest in further conversation. “You keep reporting back to the mayor. Tell him whatever you want; I don’t care.”
He stayed beside me, staring up at the same house I did.
I thought I’d been clear. “That was my hint for you to leave, Henry. Go before I change my mind.”
“I never noticed before. I figured you were like your father when we met. He grew ornery when the alcohol got in him. You aren’t like him that way. There’s a fair amount of your mother hiding in you. The way you helped that Weston boy? That’s all her. We need more like you around here.”
My mother, whose graveyard I refused to visit, even when Lily offered to join me. “Thank you, Henry. That means more than you realize.” My throat tightened.
He left, and I followed soon after. Time trickled on until I found myself back in Deer Lake, wondering how I’d managed the long distance and remembered none of it.
Julian and a stranger stood by the grocery store entrance, engaged in an animated conversation, while down the street, Mrs. Willoughby left the school property in a rush. She saw the worst in me, and I trusted her as much as I did anyone in Deer Lake.
Julian glanced at her and went inside.
The stranger moved in Mrs. Willoughby’s direction.
They crossed paths, and I stepped into the street, since there was no reason to stay.
The man held up an arm to block Mrs. Willoughby. She hugged an object to her chest and took a step back. He followed.
I didn’t move, deciding it wasn’t my problem, until the man shoved her to the ground. I ran and yanked him off her. Mrs. Willoughby stumbled, trying and failing to pull herself up.
“Are you hurt?” I took her hands in mine, lifting and steadying her.
“A little knocked around, but I’ll survive,” she said, offering me a glimpse of the object she clutched against her body. It was one of the chocolate and peanut butter cups I gave Lily.
The guy shoved an older woman because of candy?
Attacking one of Julian’s men in the street would cause problems, so I settled for lame threats when my hands itched for more. “I don’t know or care who you are. If I see you even look at anyone the wrong way, you’ll regret it. You won’t walk away next time.”
“Yeah, pal. I get it. No harm, right?” He stood, wiping dirt off his clothes. “I got away from myself. It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t,” I said.
He drifted off to whatever hell he spent his free time in. Not my problem, because Lily waited for me.
I struggled with small talk. “Lily loves that candy. I’m glad you like it.” She held the chocolate and peanut butter treat away from her as if it were poison. I tried again. “Can I walk you home?”
“You should be more careful with your threats,” Mrs. Willoughby said. “Trouble always follows you, Dean Montgomery.”
She stuffed the candy into her coat pocket and left, leaving me alone and wondering what had happened.