A Change In Tide (Northern Lights Book 1)

by Freya Barker

  Domestic Bliss for Kesla

  The Enforcer shackled and chained

  “Is there a problem?” I turn to her, more than a little confused. The headline is nothing other than what I’d expect from The Sun, designed to hook the reader in. A quick scan through the photo spread and accompanying article, shows nothing really offensive.

  “He makes it sound like we’re all living together in some kind of commune,” she pouts, clearly not happy.

  “What’s so bad about that?” I probe, and it earns me a fierce glare. “Look,” I try to appease. “I get that this is new to you, this kind of public exposure, but it’s old hat for me. Reporters like adding a little innuendo to get people’s imaginations going. People love reading that shit. I’ve learned not to worry too much about it, unless what is printed is blatantly untrue or damaging. This is surprisingly tame, as far as articles go. It doesn’t really state untruths, it’s just suggestive.”

  “Well, it suggests I’ve ditched my little hovel in favour of your dream home,” Mia points out, clicking to the next page where two images are set side by side, one of her cottage, and the other of my place. My house looks like a mansion in the manipulated image, whereas Mia’s cottage is made to look rather desolate and dark. I have to bite my lip not to laugh when I see Mia’s crestfallen face.

  “I happen to love your little hovel,” I try to tease a smile out of her.

  “Yeah, well, he may not have said it in so many words, but the implication I’m a gold digger is out there,” she says wistfully. “And I still live there.”

  I slide a hand up her back and around her neck, gently turning her face toward mine. “A technicality,” I point out, my nose almost touching hers.

  “Jared...” she starts, but I don’t let her finish. I cover her mouth with mine, and stop the protest I know was forming on her lips. By the time my tongue tastes her, I’ve forgotten what we were talking about myself.

  “It’s one thing to know stuff is going on behind closed doors,” Jordy says, as she comes in through the sliding doors. “But watching you two chew each other’s face before I’ve had a chance to get something solid in my stomach? That’s just not right.” With a healthy dose of drama, she covers her eyes, and stumbles down the hall to the nursery, making Mia giggle.

  -

  “Absolutely. Yes, I can be there at nine.”

  I smile as I watch Mia try and help Jordy into her canoe. My sister had made us laugh when she announced she wanted to be more ‘outdoorsy,’ but Mia had been quick to offer her help. The girls had decided mastering the canoe would be the first requirement.

  Brian’s call had come in just as they’d headed across to Mia’s dock, leaving me in charge of a sleeping Ole. He’d been in touch with the management at the Colts’ office and they were ready to firm up their offer now.

  Tomorrow is the first day of the Colts’ training camp and, apparently, they want me there. I don’t mind being thrown to the wolves right off the bat. There’s no better way to prove myself than during two days of scrimmages and instruction. Training camp generally starts with a large contingent of hopefuls but is whittled down to a viable team by the end of the weekend. After that, training starts for the upcoming season. Funny, even though I’m no longer a player, the prospect of being part of a team again is just as exciting.

  I watch the girls push away from the dock, and ease onto the lake, rocking the canoe in the process. In true big brother fashion, I’m half-waiting for the damn thing to tip over so I can have a good laugh, despite a bit of wobbling, they stay afloat.

  Grabbing the baby monitor off the counter, I head outside to the garage, where I’m hoping to find my skates. It’s been a while since I’ve been on them, but skating is as instinctive as walking, after spending most of my life on the ice. A large metal shelving unit against the far wall looks to hold all my sporting equipment, as well as a bunch of boxes.

  Curious, I lift one down. On the flap it says: Memorabilia. I pull the flap loose and open the box up. On top of what looks like a pile of newspapers is a puck wrapped in hockey tape. On the side a date is written. My first goal. I haven’t seen it since I proudly handed it over to my father after that game. I put it aside and pull out the newspapers, all featuring a different milestone in my career; that first NHL goal, selection to the Olympic team, trades, trophies. Underneath are ribbons and medals from my junior hockey and rep days. An album with every team and individual picture from the time I was six and joined my first team.

  That’s when it dawns on me that these boxes came from my parents’ house. Brian had taken charge of packing up most of their belongings after they died. I hadn’t been in any shape to tackle that task. I’d been too busy trying to stay upright for my sister’s sake. These must’ve been in storage with a lot of my other stuff. I’d taken to storing things I didn’t need in my everyday life, to make it easier to pick up and go. I’d lived in a number of different apartments, in different cities, over the years. Always with a minimum of clutter. I used to tell myself it was more convenient that way, but I realize now it was more than that. Unpacking my baggage would mean setting down roots, and I wasn’t ready for that.

  By the time Ole’s little whimpers sound through the monitor, I’m sitting on the floor of the garage, every last box pulled down from the shelves and the contents spread around me. My life spread out on the cool concrete. As I get up to see to my nephew, I wonder if maybe I’m ready now.

  “Hey, little man,” I murmur in his downy hair when I lift him from the bed. He’s not crying, just complaining and I soon discover it’s because of a soaking wet diaper. Poor kid’s romper is drenched. “Let me clean you up, buddy. I’ve got something to show you.”

  Mia

  “That was fun, but I’m sure my arms will be sore tomorrow,” Jordy says, as we pull the canoe up on the dock.

  “Mine will be, too,” I admit, feeling the slight pull in my muscles. “Only a few weeks without my daily exercise and it feels like it was my first time.”

  We paddled straight to Jared’s dock. Jordy wanted to get home, since it was close to Ole’s next feeding. I follow her inside the house and turn to the kitchen while she continues to the nursery. I down a glass of water, while checking the fridge for something to make for dinner. I wonder if Jared is in his office, it’s awfully quiet in here.

  “Where the heck are they?” Jordy comes out of the back hallway, confusion on her face as she turns down the other hallway, leading to Jared’s office and bedroom.

  “Nothing?” I ask when she reappears seconds later.

  “I don’t get it.” She moves to the front door and I follow behind. Jared’s car is still parked in the drive, as is Jordy’s, so they can’t have gone far.

  “Hey,” Jared’s voice rings out. He’s in the garage, the door is halfway up, and he’s sitting amid a big mess on the floor, Ole in his lap.

  “What are you doing?” Jordy wants to know, walking ahead of me.

  “Looking through some stuff I didn’t even realize was in here,” he says, handing Ole to his mom. He started squirming the moment he heard Jordy’s voice. My attention is drawn to an opened album, showing a picture of a young boy with a toothless smile.

  “Is that you?” I ask, as I lean down to pick it up to study it more closely. Undeniably Jared, with the same clear eyes and mischievous smile, minus a couple of front teeth, and no older than maybe seven.

  “He was cute then,” Jordy says looking over my shoulder. “I’m gonna feed this boy. You guys figure out dinner?”

  “Sure,” I mumble, a little absentminded, as I flip to the next page. It’s not until I no longer hear her footsteps that I realize how easily that slipped out. The assumption I’d be here for dinner, as if I belonged here. My eyes find Jared, who is looking up at me from his perch on the floor. “You were cute,” I say a bit uneasily. I’m not quite sure how to place the look he is giving me.

  “Were?”

  “Cute is not a word I’d associate with you now
,” I point out.

  “Thank fuck for that,” he groans, but does it smiling. “Come sit.” He clears a spot on the floor beside him and I sink down, clutching the album in my lap.

  “What is all this?”

  “Stuff I haven’t seen in years. Not since my parents died. My entire career up to that point is in these boxes. They kept everything.” Despite the smile on his face, I hear the pain of loss in his voice and scoot a little closer.

  “They were proud of you,” I gently suggest, rubbing my hand along his spine.

  “That they were. Of both of us,” he says, pointing out another few boxes left on the shelf. “Those are Jordy’s. I doubt she’s ever seen them.”

  “So how did they end up here?”

  “Brian shipped it all from storage when I moved in.” I watch him idly flip a puck between his large fingers like a coin, a sad smile on his mouth. I put my head on his shoulder and flip a page of the album.

  “Tell me about this one...” I point to a picture of Jared, lying sprawled on the ice, in front of a team of grinning boys, a large trophy in the middle. I can feel the low chuckle vibrate in his body, as he drapes an arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer.

  “The OMHA championship trophy.”

  I listen to the rumble in his chest as he recounts his first real taste of success, and every one after. It becomes clear to me how much he’s lost. After the death of his parents, his career was what kept him grounded, and now that is over, what does he have left?

  “I have my sister, and Ole, and more than I’d hoped for in you,” he says softly, correctly guessing at my thoughts as he wipes a pesky tear from my cheek.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Mia

  “Where are you going?”

  I turn around from the open door to find Jared behind me, a scowl on his face.

  He’d been in Barrie the whole weekend and had just come home, just as I was cleaning up our dinner dishes. I’d offered to stay with Jordy, when he told us he had to head out Saturday morning and would likely be gone until Sunday night. In hindsight, Jordy would’ve been fine on her own, since John showed up midday on Saturday. He left only when Jordy started dozing off on the couch, close to midnight, and was back again first thing this morning, with coffee and pastries from a bakery in town. I tried not to look when he said goodbye to her this afternoon, his arms tight around her waist, and hers wrapped around his neck as they spoke softly with their foreheads touching. He was scheduled for afternoon shifts the next few weeks and wouldn’t be able to see her as much as he’d like.

  “Home.”

  “Why?” he asks, genuine confusion marring his face. I drop my bag and close the distance between us. I lift my hand and stroke the scruff on his jaw.

  “Because I live there,” I tell him gently. “Things have calmed down since the article came out. Jake says things have been quiet at the gate, and I think I need to go home.” I know I’m not explaining myself well when his expression turns back to a scowl.

  “I thought you liked it here.” His words are forced out between clenched teeth, and my other hand comes up, soothing the other side of his face. Pushing up on tiptoes, I press my lips to his chin.

  “I love it here. I love being here, but this is not my home. I can’t just walk away from what has been my life and slip into yours. I’m only a short walk away.” I open my mouth to say more, but decide against it. I could tell him that staying with him would feel more like a convenience and not a wish or a need. That living together with him, his sister, and a baby would have to be a choice we all consciously make. I could say that despite the size of the place, it would likely get crowded, especially now that Jordy has John in her life as well. I might point out, all three of us are trying to find our feet again, find our own worth, and we might need some time to ourselves to do that. But somehow I don’t think Jared’s open to hearing all my reasons. It’s not that I don’t want to be with him, it’s just that I need for him to ask for all the right reasons. He’s used to getting what he wants, and I want him to work for what he needs.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I mumble into his neck, as I hug him to me. A hug he isn’t returning. “Come on, Griffy,” I call out to the dog, who reluctantly gets up and lumbers out the door behind me.

  “My door is open, Jared.”

  -

  It’s harder than I thought, leaving him standing in the doorway, knowing he’s following me with his eyes. Dusk is setting in, making it dark in the shadow of the trees. Part of me wants to turn around, but I know that won’t help anyone in the long run. All that’s happened this summer forced us together at high speed. Extreme circumstances can’t be a solid basis to build a life on, right? I can’t deny my feelings—heck, I know down to my core that Jared loves me as he says he does—but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t listen to my gut, and my gut says this is the right thing to do. For now.

  Griffin is dragging his ass, clearly unhappy about leaving his cushy spot in front of Jared’s fireplace, but when we emerge from the path onto my driveway, he takes off running.

  “Griff!”

  I’m not surprised he doesn’t listen. He’s been cooped up in Jared’s house most of the weekend and didn’t venture too far whenever I let him out. He probably needs to reestablish his territory, and I leave him to it, walking up my steps and pushing open the door.

  Even though the days are no longer stifling hot, the air inside my house is pretty rank. Dropping my bag, I rush around to open all the windows, in an attempt to blow out the smell. It’s only been a couple of days since I was here to pick up a few things, and I swear it didn’t smell then. When I get to the bedroom, the smell is worse. Much, much worse, and it’s buzzing with flies. I flip on the light switch and am almost gagging in my rush to the window, only to find it already open, the screen on it torn. What the hell?

  I don’t see it until I turn to the bathroom. The still shape of what looks to be a bobcat, is covered with flies, the dark stain underneath its body evidence its death was a violent one. Although normally quite a bit larger than a domestic cat, this one is abnormally swollen as a result of decomposition. Not only that, there is dried blood on the walls, on my bed, all over the carpet. It looks a bloodbath in here. Desperate for some fresh air, I rush past it and straight outside, taking in deep breaths, and struggling to fight down the bile.

  In my years living here, I’ve found the odd dead mouse or chipmunk inside, but never an animal quite this size. Or encountered a smell quite this pungent. I longingly look across the water at Jared’s house, where the air is at worst tainted with a hint of Ole’s diaper, but nothing like what’s festering inside my cottage. Only one way to get rid of it, and that is get rid of the body.

  Armed with a flashlight, I find a shovel in the shed behind my RAV and grab a large bucket. When I walk out, I spot my compost bin open, the lid hanging off to one side. Damn bear must’ve come back. Instead of heading back inside, I round the side of the house to have a look at the outside of my window, which appears to have been how the cat got in. I find Griffin pacing underneath, his nose sniffing alternately up in the air or on the ground below. I shine my light and see a smear of blood on the outside sill, along with a few, long claw grooves marking the logs just below. They look too big to have been made by the cat. I’m guessing there was a pretty pissed off bear, who may not have been too happy finding a bobcat digging through his next meal. Clearly the cat thought escaping inside my house for shelter was a good idea, but not before the bear got him good.

  Satisfied to have solved that mystery, I grudgingly head back inside, keeping Griffin outside for now. God knows I don’t want him rolling around in dead bobcat.

  It’s already pitch black when I roll the last big rock on the bobcat’s grave, a fair distance from the cottage in the trees. I could’ve tossed the carcass in the underbrush somewhere, but Griffin seemed much too interested, and I was afraid he’d drag it back to the house. So instead I dug a hole, only to realize that wouldn’t be a
deterrent for my dog. The rocks covering the shallow grave would have to do. I grab the flashlight and head back, allowing myself that hint of doubt that’s been nagging me all night long. Did I make the right decision coming back here? And that is immediately followed by the next: Will Jared understand?

  I don’t hear anyone approach, so when a large body suddenly appears in the beam of my light, my heart almost stops.

  “Everything okay?” Jake’s deep voice is a bit of a disappointment. I guess I’d hoped it might be Jared.

  “Other than the heart attack you just gave me? Yes, I’m fine.” The rumble of his chuckle is pleasant enough, but his voice sounds stern.

  “Sorry, but when I saw a light in the trees, I had to investigate. Make sure you’re safe. Jared called earlier, letting me know to keep a close eye on your place.”

  I’m not sure what to make of that. Not sure how I feel about that. I wanted to make sure I’m a choice and not a convenience for him, but maybe I’m neither? Ugh! I’m driving myself insane with self-doubt. Jake is staring at me intently, and I realize he’s waiting for some kind of explanation.

  “Oh, uhh...found a dead bobcat inside,” I explain, waving at my house. “I had to get rid of it.”

  “That happen a lot?” he wants to know, his gaze turning to the cottage. I shrug my shoulders, even though he can’t see, and my eyes follow where his are fixed.

  “My first bobcat,” I mumble, as I step around him and walk back to my house.

  The stench is a little less overwhelming when I get inside, thanks to the open windows and the bottle of bleach I scrubbed into the floor, but my bedroom is still not habitable for now. Instead I take a quick shower to get the stench off me and pull both the bathroom and bedroom doors closed. I grab a quilt from the living room, I open the sliding doors and settle in on the couch in my screened-in porch.

  With the soft lull of the water lapping at the shore, and the fresh scent of pine and lake in my nose, it doesn’t take me long to drift off. My last thought is how much I already miss those strong arms.