If Gideon learned to trust himself, Blake would know more love than most kids could dream about. He was such a good man.
Haylee went to lift the kettle off the stove, then buckled over, gripping the edge of the stove for balance.
“Ma? Haylee!” Sage said, the stud in her eyebrow twinkling in the morning light. “You okay?”
“Of course.” She put a hand to her side, then dropped it quickly. “What time is your appointment tomorrow?”
“Forget it,” Sage said. “I’ll find someone else.”
“For what it’s worth,” Jamie said, eyeing Haylee’s midriff, “I suggest you clear your calendar. If Aiden was here, you’d get a spanking. And not the good kind.”
“Bite me,” Haylee said. “I’m fine.” She straightened up, raised both arms and did jazz hands. “See?”
“Whatever.” Jamie refilled her coffee and opened the paper. What about pregnancy, she wondered, turned previously normal human beings into irrational aliens?
But when Haylee stroked her belly in that casual gesture so full of love, Jamie’s ribs contracted. She swallowed. She’d seen it in Sage, too. Haylee would fight to the death for her child. For either of them. As would Sage for Sal.
Was that how Lana felt about Blake? Was that what Gideon was up against?
But what about his fatherly passion? Didn’t that count, too?
It made her head hurt, to think about the meaning of family and of all the ways that caring and fear and jealousy and ignorance and love made people hurt each other so badly.
Yet, she still wished she was part of it, that someone felt about her the way Aiden felt for Haylee, or Haylee for Sage.
She imagined what it might be like, if Gideon fought for her like he was fighting for Blake. If he placed her inside the circle of his life, instead of keeping her on the outside.
In the background, Haylee and Sage discussed their plans for the next day and Daphne kept working behind them, deep in the rhythm of kneading the mound of dough in front of her.
The yeasty, slightly sweet aroma coming from Daphne’s workstation, combined with the toasting bread, made her stomach growl.
Huck came in, Sal bouncing on his hip. The little girl had apples in her cheeks, and a string of drool shining between her lip and the front of her sweater.
“Here’s your mama, little angel,” Huck crooned, handing the baby over. He wore a bright fuchsia beanie this morning.
“Huck!” called Daphne, her voice overloud thanks to the earbuds now back in her ears. “Did you bring in the eggs?”
“Just about to do so, ma’am.” He tipped his head and exited the kitchen.
Olivia wandered into the kitchen then, her hair still wet from the shower. “Is Daphne making cinnamon buns?”
Haylee nodded.
Sage swirled her finger in Haylee’s direction. “Haylee look a little off to you, Liv?”
“Hm. I don’t know.” She tilted her head, evaluating her niece. “You feel okay, Haylee?”
In the office, the phone rang. Everyone ignored it.
“I’m fine. Tired, that’s all.” Haylee spread peanut butter on her toast, then stared at it, as if it had suddenly lost its appeal.
“Well, Jamie and I think she looks like crap.” Sage plopped the baby into a nearby playpen and handed her a toy to chew on, then went back to poring over her syllabus.
“Very helpful.” Haylee nibbled a corner of toast, massaging her side again. Then, she set her mug down on the table and bent over again. A low moan came from her.
The phone kept ringing.
“Does this not bug anyone else?” Jamie said, getting to her feet.
Olivia waved a hand. “Let it go to voice mail. Haylee? Oh, my. Either you just peed yourself . . .”
“Holy shit!” Sage hollered. “Daphne!”
Haylee looked at the floor with horror. “But I’ve got three weeks left. This isn’t supposed to happen yet. I’m not ready. I’m working!” She sounded utterly outraged.
“Too bad, missy.” Daphne smoothed Haylee’s curls away from her neck and took her other arm. “Babies come when they come and we welcome them. Got it?”
She’d said something similar when Sal had arrived.
“Ahhhh!” Haylee moaned.
Olivia tossed Haylee’s cell phone to Sage. “Call Aiden. Tell him to meet us at the hospital. His baby’s coming.”
Jamie stood there, not sure what to do, as a flurry of activity erupted around her.
She heard the phone click over and then, from the office, a tinny voice, someone leaving a message.
It was Lana.
She ran to the room and played the message.
Lana couldn’t reach Gideon on his cell and she needed to talk to him. Immediately.
* * *
Ezra and Gideon looked up together at the knock on the slaughterhouse doorframe.
“Jamie,” Gideon said. “What are you doing here?”
She looked around the room and swallowed. “Lana called. She wants to meet you in town today. She’s on her way, now.”
“What? Today?” He glanced down at himself, the plastic apron, the rubber boots. “I can’t see Blake today. Did she say what it’s about?”
“No. You didn’t answer your phone so she called the house. Go on.” She nodded and took a breath. “I’ll find someone to cover for you.”
“Who?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said, pulling the ties at his back and slipping the apron over his head.
He glanced at Ezra.
“Go on,” the man said. “Your boy is more important. Haylee’s on her way anyway, right, Jamie?”
Jamie folded the apron and hung it on a hook. “Yeah. And I think Liv or Daphne will come down, too.”
He didn’t like the way Jamie wasn’t meeting his eyes. Something was up, but he’d figure it out later. Trust Lana to pull something like this, just to put him off his game.
He returned her call while changing his clothes. She and Elliot were coming to Sunset Bay and thought he’d like the chance to see Blake while they ran their errands. As expected, she’d been very unhappy about Blake’s last visit to the ranch but was trying to be reasonable. He could see the boy now, at the time and place of her choosing. If it wasn’t convenient, she said, that was fine.
But Gideon understood. It was this or nothing. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes,” he said.
He got in his truck and headed for town, to the small park on the beach where Jamie taught her classes in the summertime, got himself a coffee, and sat down to wait. This was what the next ten years of his life might be: trailing along after Lana, taking the crumbs of time with Blake she offered, never sure when it might be revoked.
How could he possibly expect Jamie to live like this? It wasn’t fair to her. Gideon could do it, but eventually, she’d want a life of her own. A life of their own. And what would that look like?
He couldn’t imagine.
Their vehicle arrived, with Hudson at the wheel. Gideon watched as Lana got out to help Blake with the seat belt. Today she wore jeans and boots, and her hair was pulled back in a simple tail.
Gideon waved a greeting from his seat but didn’t approach, unsure of his reception, unwilling to do anything that might jeopardize the tenuous cease-fire.
He watched as Lana knelt down and pulled Blake to her tightly, pressing her cheek against his golden hair for a long moment. She kissed him three times in quick succession, then stood up. Her boot caught on a stone and she nearly stumbled backwards, but Hudson caught her elbow. She held on to him and even from the distance, Gideon could see her shaking.
She was afraid, he understood that now. Everyone was afraid. Fear was one of the biggest drivers of human behavior. He’d learned that in prison. As a motivator, ambition paled in comparison to the primitive need to cover your plate, to guard your possessions, to protect what you have, who you love. Loss was the big equalizer.
Hudson kept hold of her, patting her hand, putting his face cl
ose to hers. Blake said something up to them, and they both squatted down to the child’s level, each with an arm around him, making a circle, a triumvirate, a closed unit with him squarely on the outside.
Then they rose, and stepped back, finally returning Gideon’s wave.
Lana was still shaking and her cheeks sparkled in the sun. Elliot’s shoulders were slumped, his hand slightly outstretched, as if he wanted to snatch the child back but knew he couldn’t.
“Hey, Blake,” Gideon called out in a voice like a rasp.
The left side of his chest felt hot and itchy, and the muscle beneath his eye was twitching again. He didn’t want to feel sympathy for them. If Lana hadn’t shut him out six years ago, none of this would be happening. He was justified in feeling angry. He was Blake’s rightful father. He wasn’t the bad guy here.
It was easier, cleaner, to stay angry.
But he couldn’t. They loved Blake. Both of them. Lana and Elliot.
It would definitely be easier to remain angry at Hudson, but Gideon knew, from the way the boy talked about him, that he treated them well, that Lana was happy with him, and that all three of them were excited about the upcoming marriage.
And he could read it in the man’s body language, how much love he had for them. And how afraid he was of losing them.
They were—all of them—working from a fear of loss, he realized. Right or wrong, he’d triggered this, by finally dealing with his own loss.
Blake held his backpack against his chest and curled over it protectively as he walked to the picnic table, and that’s when Gideon saw the hitch in the boy’s gait, the way he rose onto his toes at the end of each step. It was exactly how he himself walked. Jamie was right—the boy did have something of his father in him.
“Hi, Gideon,” he said without a hint of a smile.
He cleared his throat. “You ready to have some fun on the beach with your old man?”
He gave Gideon a cautious glance, his eyes wide and watchful. His knuckles white where he gripped his bag. “Okay.”
A bubble of pride welled into the itchy place in his chest. His blood flowed in those small veins, his DNA in every tiny cell. They were alike in ways that couldn’t be taught or untaught, but simply were.
He’d find common ground. He’d build a relationship with his son. He’d earn Blake’s love and a place in his heart and finally ease the ache of failure.
Then Blake turned to wave at the couple still holding each other beside the car. In his small, thin voice, he called out, “Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad.”
Dad.
* * *
After Gideon left, Jamie stood in the stainless-steel room, listening to the reverberation of the metal door echo off the stinky walls. He was heading to town, for an impromptu meeting with Lana. Whatever it was about, she guessed it wasn’t good.
As soon as he was out of earshot, she turned to Ezra. He wore the same long, white waterproof apron and heavy rubber boots that Gideon had just removed.
“Are Haylee and Olivia on their way?” he asked. “I want to get it over with.”
She cleared her throat. “They’re not coming. Liv and Sage just took Haylee to the hospital. She’s in labor. Daphne’s looking after Sal. I’m it today, Ezra. Sorry about that.”
While she spoke, his gentle features went from confused to concerned to excited and finally landed on what she could only interpret as sorrowful kindness. “You didn’t want Gideon to know.”
“He needs to see Blake.”
“He would have stayed. He would never have asked you to do this.”
“Of course he wouldn’t.” Her throat was tight. “I hope I’ll be helpful.”
“Jamie.”
“I can handle it.” Tears dripped off her chin and she wiped them with her shoulder. “Let’s just do it, okay?”
Ezra looked at her for a long moment. “It’ll be fast.”
“I know,” she said, her voice thick with dread.
“He won’t feel a thing.”
She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. Then she lifted her head, inhaled deeply, and pulled up to her full height and met Ezra’s concerned gaze. “I’m ready.”
Outside the shed, the rest of the cattle grazed calmly, their big brown eyes untroubled. They led the animal to an area out of sight of the herd, around a corner and into the stainless steel room, where a stanchion stood at the ready. The steer walked in without complaint, having been acclimated to the device often for routine procedures, always accompanied by copious positive reinforcements and treats.
“Good man,” Jamie said in a shaky voice. “Good boy, Charley.” He slapped a thick pink tongue against her arm, leaving a clear trail of drool, like a baby.
Ezra patted Charley on the head, gave him an alfalfa pellet, then applied two electrodes to his head and sent two hundred volts of electricity into his brain.
The steer died without ever knowing what hit him.
Afterwards, Jamie walked back to the main house without so much as a drop of blood on her to provide evidence of her activity. Her arms ached, her legs felt numb, her chest hollow, empty.
She wandered into the kitchen, sank onto a stool, and rested her head on her arms.
“It’s done?” Daphne asked. She, more than anyone, knew what it had cost Jamie to do this.
Jamie didn’t eat meat, but most people did and she understood that. An animal like Charley would feed them and their guests for most of a season. It was an annual procedure that no one looked forward to, but the solemnity with which they approached it seemed somehow appropriate. Respectful of the earth and the creatures on it.
Jamie had seen guests fall apart at the sight of a two-day old chick found squashed by the automatic feeder, people who would, that same night, tuck into Daphne’s roast chicken, their minds seeing no connection between the two. She had lived with kids whose bones and flesh were built on the tidy, grocery-store wrapped packages of other animals, and because they saw no blood, they were able to perpetuate the disconnect.
The privileged ones were, in some ways, worse off than the street kids, whom she’d also known, because they were unaware that death was a part of life. They weren’t allowed to attend funerals, for fear of trauma. They weren’t given pets, too much mess and work. And then, when someone they cared about actually died, they fell apart.
They never learned to handle the devastation of loss because they were never allowed to discover that they could. That life went on. That we all have a time and a purpose and that they, too, could survive and embrace what time they had.
“It’s done,” she told Daphne. “Any news on Haylee?”
The cook shook her head. “No. Could be a long day.” She exhaled. “It changes you, doesn’t it?”
Jamie nodded. “It’s only right.”
Taking a life should change a person. She thought of the old hunting traditions of thanking the creature that had given its life for the survival of the tribe. She’d borne witness. She’d been with Charley at the end; she knew the animal had suffered neither pain nor fear. She’d honored the animal’s sacrifice by facing it with him.
This did not make it easier, but it was honest, at least.
“A good life and a humane death,” Daphne reminded her. “It’s the best we can do in a fallen world.”
“I guess.” She wanted to go to bed and sleep for days.
“It was a good thing you did.”
Jamie made a sound in the back of her throat that could have been a laugh or a sob.
“You really love that man, don’t you?”
She pressed her eyes closed, feeling the tears behind them. “I wish I didn’t. It would be so much easier.”
“Nah. You’ve never been one for easy. Here.” Daphne slid a large slice of pie her way. “You look like you could use it.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
An intense alignment today. Keep calm and
carry on.
—Gideon’s horoscope
When they came to retrieve Blake, Gi
deon immediately saw the anger in Lana’s stride. Elliot stood beside the car, the rear door open, as if he couldn’t wait to get Blake safely back into his care.
Lana hugged her son and sent him off.
“Bye, Gideon,” Blake said.
They’d had a nice walk, collecting sea glass and chasing birds. But the boy’s face lit up now as he scampered to Elliot.
“How could you, Gideon,” Lana said, standing with her back to Blake. Her voice shook with fury. “I trusted you with him.”
Gideon took a step backward. “What?”
She threw a newspaper onto the picnic table. It was open to the Letters to the Editor page.
“That woman of yours,” she said, her words ending in a hiss. “She hurt a kid. Right here, on the beach. There were witnesses! She’s being charged with child abuse, Gideon. And you let my son be with her.”
The bottom fell out of his stomach. He grabbed the paper and scanned the entry she’d circled.
It was the mother whose children had been nearly pulled in by the rogue wave. Red flames edged the periphery of his vision. “These are lies, Lana. There were no charges. I was there. I saw what happened. Jamie saved those kids. If she hadn’t been there, that little girl might have been hurt a whole lot worse than a dislocated elbow.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I won’t have her around my son.”
The breath left his lungs. His knees buckled and he sat down heavily on the concrete bench. He had no words.
Lana had plenty. “I gave you a chance, Gideon. But I have to put Blake first. Did you know he’s having nightmares? He’s starting school in a few weeks and he’s not sleeping properly. He’s asking me if Elliot will still be his dad, if we’re still getting married, if he did something bad to make me cry.”
Her voice broke. She looked away and hugged her arms to her chest. “Please, Gideon, let him go. Let us go. You’re trying to be something you’re not. How many people are you willing to hurt before you give up?”
* * *
Jamie walked along the shoreline, kicking at random rocks, listening to the surf, letting the crisp briny flavors of the air flood her senses. She couldn’t bear to be on the ranch right now. Not only was she dreading the news Gideon might bring, but she was still shaken by the image of Charley sinking to his knees, a sentient creature gone in an instant.
Driftwood Creek Page 24
