Reconsider Me [Suncoast Society] - (Siren Publishing Sensations ManLove)

by Tymber Dalton

  “Yeah, likewise. Celia’s in with Mom. They just woke up a little bit ago.” He led them into a house that was like stepping into a time capsule. Except for the TV in the living room being a new flat-screen—and sitting on top of the old, huge console TV they’d had—not a damn thing had changed.

  Except the deep, resonant drawl of one Jason Burch would never roll through the rooms while his footsteps practically shook the house.

  Joel instinctively headed down to the hall, along to the back bedroom that had always been their parents’ room since they were kids. He found the door standing open, and Celia and his mom in the bed, both crying.

  He gave up trying to hold back his own tears and stepped inside, rounding the bed so he could get in on the other side and hold his mom between him and Celia.

  “I cain’t believe he’s gone!” she moaned, the sound shredding his heart. “What am I gonna do without him?”

  Jack had followed him as far as the bedroom door. It wasn’t a very big room, and the full-sized bed mostly filled it. “I’ll go get breakfast started,” he said. “We have to be at the funeral home at eleven.”

  Joel nodded and Jack disappeared.

  He closed his eyes, wishing he could take back the past years, wishing he’d fought harder to bridge the gap between himself and his father, wishing he hadn’t been such a fucking coward. Maybe if he’d kicked Johnny’s ass instead of doing the “sensible” thing and turning his back on him and not treating his threats as serious, Johnny wouldn’t have dared to fuck with him or his family.

  Then again, I wouldn’t have Fen.

  He felt a hand squeeze his, hard, and opened his eyes to Celia staring at him.

  “Thank you,” she silently mouthed.

  He nodded, knowing nothing he could say to her or his mom would make this better. All he could do was be there and do what he could to help them through this and, later, let Fen help him.

  * * * *

  Fen didn’t feel right following the brothers when he hadn’t been specifically invited to do so. So he remained in the dining room, staring around at the walls. A china cabinet on one wall held plates and dishes that looked like they’d never even been used. Pictures on the walls showed the family, this generation and ones before it, at different stages of life. Even pictures of a young Joel, which despite the circumstances made Fen smile when he stared at them. A glimpse of his guy.

  He could see the familial resemblance between Jackson and Joel, even more apparent when they were little kids. He knew both siblings were unmarried. Jackson was twenty-nine, Celia the middle child at thirty-two.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and took close-up pics of several of the photos, especially ones of a younger Joel. He knew he might never have this chance again and wanted something of Joel’s past for himself. Then he put his phone away as he heard someone coming.

  Jackson returned. “I need to cook breakfast. We have to be at the funeral home at eleven.”

  Finally! Something Fen could do to help! “Please, let me do that for you. Just point the way.”

  Jackson nodded. “Thanks. That’d give me a chance to get a couple of things done before we go.” He led Fen to the kitchen, showed him where everything was, and then stepped out what Fen guessed was the back door.

  It’d be easy enough. Bacon and eggs and Bisquick pancakes. He could do that, no problem. From the look of the ingredients in the fridge, he could easily whip up a frittata or something, then stopped himself.

  He didn’t want to look like a showoff. His job here was to support Joel and Joel’s family, not throw an unfamiliar monkey wrench into things.

  The coffeemaker clicked as it shut off, and Fen reached over, switched it off, then on again so the burner wouldn’t shut off.

  Rolling up his sleeves and tucking his tie into the front of his shirt, he looked around and spotted an apron hanging from a magnetic hook on the side of the fridge. From the Made in China tag on it, it was a reproduction of a frilly, old-time formal housewife’s apron, but it’d cover him from neck nearly to knees, so he tied it on.

  First he counted out eggs for scrambling, whisked them up with a few splashes of milk, added some pepper and salt, and set the bowl aside. That would go into one pan, after he cooked the bacon. There was a cast-iron griddle he could use for the pancakes, which he mixed according to the instructions on the box. Then he turned to the stove.

  His heart fell. The fridge looked like it was only a couple of years old.

  The stove, however…

  He gulped. This stove might have been new when his father was a kid.

  Maybe.

  Some of the numbers on the knobs for the front two burners had been worn off with age.

  And it was a gas range.

  Shit.

  He’d never used a gas range before in his life. Propane grill? Sure, but they usually had an igniter button.

  He tried turning one of the knobs, heard a hiss of gas, and smelled it, but saw no flame. He immediately shut it off.

  Shit!

  He didn’t want to go interrupt them, but he also didn’t want to blow up their fricking house.

  Especially with him and Joel inside it.

  So he did what any self-respecting adult male would do—

  He called his mom.

  She answered on the first ring. “Fen? Are you—”

  “Mom, I have an emergency. How do I light a stove?”

  “What?”

  “A stove. A gas stove. How do I light it?”

  “You just turn the knob. I think. The pilot light will light it.”

  “I tried that. Gas came out but it didn’t light.”

  “Well, turn it off!”

  “I already did that. How do I light it?”

  “Does the knob push, like a grill?”

  He tried. “No.”

  “How old is it?”

  “When was Eisenhower president?”

  “Yikes. Hold on. I’ve never used a gas stove. My friend Jill has one, but you just turn the knobs.”

  “I thought Gramma’s house had one?”

  “No, you’re thinking Great-Grandma Paul, but she never used it because she didn’t want to pay for gas. She used a hotplate. That’s how she burned down her house, she forgot about it and—”

  Fen let out a screech when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Fen? Are you okay?”

  He looked to see Joel smiling down at him.

  “Yeah, sorry, Mom. Joel startled me. I’ll ask him. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  He watched Joel reach over to a box of wooden kitchen matches he hadn’t noticed before that sat on the windowsill over the sink, next to the stove. There was also a box of long ones. Joel lit a match, turned the burner to the middle of the settings, held the match near the burner, and it fwhomped to life. He turned the fire down to a lower setting after shaking the match out.

  Joel leaned in and kissed him. “Turn it all the way off when you’re done. If you need the oven lit, come get me. It’s tricky sometimes, and you have to use the long matches.”

  “Thank you.”

  * * * *

  Joel bit his tongue not to roar with laughter over the terror on Fen’s face when he’d startled him. He’d come out to pour his mom a cup of coffee and had held back in the kitchen doorway when he’d heard Fen’s hushed and hurried tones.

  Maybe wrong to eavesdrop, but once he realized why Fen was talking to someone Joel assumed was Ivy, he had to hear how the conversation played out.

  He’d never imagined his guy wouldn’t know how to light a gas stove. The man could cook like a fine chef, had a natural talent for it.

  At least something can make me smile today.

  He poured the mug of coffee, black, and headed back to the bedroom. At least she was sitting up now, her and Celia both.

  “Fen’s cooking breakfast,” he told them as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Cel, you go get your shower. I’ll stay with Mom.”


  “Okay. Thanks.” Celia kissed her, then him on the cheek and left the room.

  His mom took the mug and held it pressed between her hands, blowing across the top before she took a sip. “Did you show him how to light the stove? It can be tricky.”

  “Yeah. He’ll be fine.” He dove in. “I love you, Mom. I’m sorry I’m back because of this.”

  “Love you, too.” She had brown eyes, not quite the color of Fen’s, darker. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to talk some sense into him. He did love you. He was just…mad. You know how private he was. He didn’t want people talkin’ about our personal stuff, and here we were like front-page news.”

  “I know. It’s okay.”

  She took another sip of coffee. “Are you doin’ okay?”

  “Not right now, no. I always thought I’d be able to talk to him at least one more time.”

  It was a tired, wan smile that creased her face. “I meant in general. Do you love him?”

  He’d posted pics of himself and Fen together on his Facebook page, set to friends-only, of course. He knew Jackson and Celia had seen them, because they’d each liked them.

  “I’m gonna marry him, Mom.”

  “How’s your business goin’? You told me you were doin’ that big engine job a few months ago.” He knew what she was doing. She wanted a distraction, and he was just selfish enough to give it to her, because it meant not having to face the harsh reality that his father was never coming back.

  “It went real good. Guy was happy, took a bunch of clients out on it. Hands out my cards to everyone. It’s brought us a lot of work. I had to hire another guy to keep up.”

  “What’s Fen do?”

  “He’s an engineer. He works for a company that manufactures stuff, like custom parts. He’s one of the ones who does the plans on the computer and then they send it to the milling machines to cut them out.”

  “How’s his momma an’ them? Good people?”

  “His dad’s a county detective, about to retire. His mom’s retired. His brother’s an engineer, too, but he works for a commercial developer. His sister-in-law is a doctor, an ENT. And wait’ll you see Snoobug.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

  “Snoobug?”

  “She’s almost twenty months old.” He pulled up a selfie. He’d been holding Naris, and he and Fen had blown raspberries on her cheeks at the same time, making her squeal with laughter. He’d snapped the pic at the perfect time, capturing the huge, chubby grin on her face and her eyes squeezed closed as she’d laughed. He’d never posted pics of her online, even though Onna and George did, because he didn’t want to risk the chance of Johnny ever possibly being able to see them.

  Just in case.

  “Aw, she’s adorable, sugar.”

  “She’s a sweetie. She fell in love with me right away, and she usually doesn’t take to strangers well. Fen’s family was trying to get him to marry me right then. They said it was a good sign.”

  She rested her head against his shoulder. “They sound like good people.”

  “They are. They love me. They treat me like family.”

  She patted his arm, leaving her hand covering his. “I hope I get to meet them.”

  “You guys have to come down to visit. We’ll schedule the wedding for then. Take a week, at least.”

  “I should sell this damn place. Your father’s had offers the past several years, good offers, and he’d run ’em off. But I’m so tired and I can’t afford to pay to hire another guy to come in and do everything your father does.” She teared up. “Did.” She shook her head. “I won’t make Jackson give up his job to run it. He makes good money in Mobile.”

  His father had inherited and run the farm, in addition to the years he’d spent working for the school board in Mobile, doing maintenance. When he’d retired, he’d been a supervisor, and started working full-time running the farm. He’d scaled it up in the twenty-plus years since his “retirement.”

  “Then sell it. Not right this minute. After a couple of weeks, let things settle. Ivy used to be a real estate agent. I’m sure she’d be happy to come up and advise you so you get a good deal.”

  “Ivy?”

  “Fen’s mom. She sold real estate before she retired.”

  “I’m…I’m just so tired.”

  “Do you feel like coming out to the kitchen and meeting Fen?”

  She patted her hair. “Let me get a bath and get dressed first. I’ll be out shortly. The kids spent the night last night so I wasn’t alone.” She stared around the bedroom. “I never told you this, but I didn’t want this place. I wanted your father to sell it, but he promised your grandfather he’d take care of it. I didn’t make that promise.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. You don’t need to decide today.”

  “I want my family back.”

  She’d been a housewife, a farmer’s wife. During the day, she’d run things around there, been there for them as kids when they’d come home from school, the mom who always volunteered for stuff at school.

  She’d started going to community college for accounting when she’d gotten pregnant with him…

  While she’d never made him feel guilty about that, Joel always had, a little bit.

  “Get your shower and come on out and meet Fen.”

  “Okay.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Joel rejoined Fen in the kitchen, slumping into one of the chairs at the smaller table there. “Thanks, babe,” he hoarsely said.

  Fen leaned in for a kiss. He had the bacon done and was nearly finished with the stack of pancakes. The eggs wouldn’t take long to cook, so he was holding those for another minute.

  “Of course.”

  Celia, her brown hair damp and pulled back into a ponytail at the base of her neck, walked into the kitchen.

  Fen felt nervous tension jolt through him, but she smiled and walked over, plucking at the apron. “Nice fashion statement. You must be Fen.” Then she hugged him, hard. “Thanks for bringing him.”

  “It’s okay. Like I told Jackson, I wish the circumstances were better.”

  She nodded, sniffling and sitting next to Joel. “Where is Jackson?”

  “He said he was going to go do some chores,” Fen said. “Breakfast will be ready in about five minutes.” He gave the eggs one more whisk and poured them into the same pan he’d cooked the bacon in. He’d found an old coffee can in the fridge with grease in it, and had added the hot bacon grease to that.

  “Oh.” She walked out the back door, leaving it standing open. Fen could see the back porch out there. She cupped her hands to her mouth and hollered, “Breeeeaaaaakfaaaaast!” Then she returned, pouring herself a mug of coffee before sitting.

  One day, Fen knew, this would all be amusing in a retelling of events.

  Today was not that day.

  Finally, the whole family was at the table, which Fen had already set with plates he’d found in the cabinets there, and they started eating. He wasn’t really hungry, since they’d had an early breakfast, plus he’d nibbled a little while he’d cooked, a couple of pieces of bacon and the sacrificial first pancake, which he’d accidentally scorched on one side before he’d gotten the hang of fine-tuning the temperature on the burner.

  As he started scrubbing the mixing bowls and utensils he’d used, he knew enough not to scrub the cast-iron griddle and pan. He wiped them both out with paper towels and left them on the back burners, where they’d been sitting.

  The phone kept ringing, too. It’d started after Joel had returned to the kitchen, and while the family ate, Fen took over, taking messages and relaying that they were going to make the arrangements shortly. He suspected they’d be inundated with visitors that afternoon as word got around.

  Jackson finished eating quickly so he could grab a shower. Then Celia, Jackson, and Joel’s mom all piled into the backseat of Fen’s car, while Joel gave Fen directions to the funeral home.

  “Mary Southerington called me last night,” Joel’s mom said. “She said
she’s gonna have the ladies’ Bible study group at church bring food over today. And the cousins will be coming over starting tonight, I’m sure. We’re gonna need to go to the store. I think there was a sale down at the Walmart on paper plates and stuff this weekend. I saw it in the paper.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” Fen said before Joel could even answer.

  “Thank you, sugar.” She sniffled. “This don’t feel real.”

  Fen wasn’t prepared for the dozen or so relatives who were awaiting their arrival at the funeral home. Fen had pulled up to the portico to let everyone out before going to park. When he walked into the main entry, he nearly turned around and walked out again.

  Joel was talking to a man who, from his jeans and T-shirt, Fen knew likely wasn’t an employee of the funeral home.

  He felt someone tap him on the shoulder, and turned to spot an older woman standing there, older than Joel’s mom. “Do we know when the funeral is yet? I need to call my other sisters.”

  “Um, no, sorry. That’s why we’re here.”

  “Can we go see him?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Can one of you take me back to see my brother?”

  Fen felt like he’d dropped into an episode of The Twilight Zone. “Ma’am, I don’t know. We’d have to ask someone.”

  “Well, don’t you work here?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Fen.” Thankfully, he heard Joel and offered the woman a smile. As he walked toward Joel, he heard the woman say to an equally ancient woman standing next to her, “I thought that boy worked here from how he was dressed.”

  Oh, boy.

  * * * *

  Joel was glad he’d looked for Fen and was able to rescue him before his Aunt Gloria latched on to him. He reached for Fen’s hand, lacing fingers with him as he started introducing him to people.

  When it came time to make the arrangements, he realized half the room wanted to join them and have input when it was time to talk to the undertaker. Joel finally put his foot down.