by Freya Barker
CHAPTER SEVEN
Syd
I love cooking. It’s been so long since I’ve been behind a stove but it appears I’ve forgotten little. When I looked for something hearty to make the kids before school, I spotted the bin of flour in the pantry and it all came back to me—pancakes. I made way too many, but I figured maybe Gunnar would want some when he comes back, Viv too. Covering the baking tray with tinfoil, I place the pancakes on top and slide them into the oven to keep them warm before sitting down with a cup of coffee from the big pot I finally figured out how to work.
I feel like a million bucks. How’s that for irony? My only ‘home’ burns down with all my earthly possession inside and I may well be in trouble with the police for evasion, but for the first time in years, I feel like I have the tools for a new start. That is if Gunnar doesn’t toss me out on my ass. Even that possibility doesn’t stop the slow building feeling that I’m at the beginning of something more. The fire seems almost cathartic—cleansing—burning up any remainder of my past and setting me free. Of course I still have a roof over my head to consider, which isn’t much of a worry, but oddly enough I feel little anxiety over that at all. I’ll try to get into the Florence House shelter on Preble Street for tonight. It’s a bit of a hike, and although it’s not a long term solution, it will be a warm place to lay my head at night for now. That is if they have room to take me in.
“I have a proposition for you.” Gunnar stands in the doorway with his hands on his hips. His comment pulls me out of my thoughts and I’m momentarily startled since I hadn’t even heard him come in. Huh. I’m normally very attuned to my surroundings out of self-preservation and I’m surprised at how easily I’ve let my guard slip. His words excite me for some reason and I tilt my head, looking at him.
“Proposition?”
“Yes,” he confirms, a frown marring his forehead, as if he’s unsure himself about what he’s thinking. “It would appear we’re each in a bit of a pickle and there may be a way to solve both of our issues.” He moves into the kitchen and pours himself a coffee before sitting down at the table in front of me. I don’t say anything, just wait for him to continue. “But first, you have to explain to me why you were avoiding the hospital and the cops last night. Are you in trouble with the law? ‘Cause if you are, I don’t know if this is going to work.”
I swallow hard, trying to figure out how much, or how little, I can get away with sharing. How much can I trust him with? Although he scared me at first, nothing he’s done since has given me any reason to believe he is anything but a caring father and a considerate boss. Besides, the man may well have saved my life last night. I owe him. “I’m not in trouble,” I try, but judging from the look on his face, it’s not enough.
“Need more than that, Syd,”
Fuck. Okay, I didn’t really expect that to fly, so I venture on carefully. “I, uhh ... I don’t want to be found.”
“You running away from someone?” His entire demeanor changes before my eyes; lips in a straight line and eyebrows scrunched together. “Are you in danger?”
I quickly shake my head. “Not in so many words. I just need to leave my past where it belongs, and that’s behind me. It wasn’t a good place for me.” I carefully gauge his reaction.
“You know you’re being evasive, right?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve been on my own for a long time—years—and I’m not used to sharing anything.”
Gunnar glances at his folded hands on the kitchen table, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “That doesn’t come as a surprise. You’ve hardly been forthcoming.”
“I’m sorry.” His head shoots up and he pins me with an angry glare, making me turn away.
“Enough with the ‘sorry’ already. Gotta stop apologizing for everything.”
“Okay, I’m sor—, I mean, I will. Stop, that is. At least I’ll try.”
The little smile is encouragement enough for me to give him a little more. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Things I can’t ever make right.”
“I get that, but there’s always a way to make amends or turn things around. Hell, I made the biggest mistake of my life marrying my ex, but if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have my kids.”
I’d like to tell him that my clouds don’t have that silver lining, but I keep it to myself instead. With a deep sigh and a hint of disappointment, he seems to come to terms with the fact that I’ve shared about all I’m comfortable with.
“All right, here’s what I’m thinking. I need someone to help me look after the kids after school; someone who will be here to check on homework, make sure they’re fed and all that. They seem to like you and it looked like you handled them just fine. You don’t have a roof over your head and need a place to stay. The apartment upstairs has been vacant since I bought the house and I only use it to crash when it’s been a particularly busy night and I don’t feel like going home, or to give the kids a place to sleep when plans get fucked up like they did yesterday.”
A hint of excitement sparks in the pit of my stomach and I know it must show on my face because he smiles and shakes his head. “You think you can keep doing your work and take on the kids after, then it’s yours. We’ll consider that payment for the childcare.” I can feel my face cracking open with the unfamiliar smile that I can’t hold back. I’m nodding furiously, making Gunnar chuckle. “There may be times where the kids need to crash there for a few hours though. That gonna be a problem?”
Hell no! Not a problem at all, although I would agree to just about anything right now. Could it be I’m this lucky? I know I don’t deserve this, but I’m not stupid. I’m not gonna turn this down. Overwhelmed and a bit teary-eyed, I look him straight in the eye. “Not a problem, and thank you.”
“You crying? Christ, please don’t cry. I don’t need none of that.” He looks distinctly uncomfortable and now it’s my turn to chuckle. “I’m hungry,” he says, quickly changing the subject. “Got any of those pancakes left over?”
“Yup. Still warm in the oven.”
“Then load me up, woman. Oh, and make sure to pile up a few for yourself as well. You’re too damn skinny—that’s gotta change.”
That’s how Viv finds us a little later; chowing down on breakfast in companionable silence. I load her up with the last few pancakes and while she eats, let Gunnar fill her in on last night’s events and our agreement. After she fusses over me to make sure I’m fine—which I am, save for a few singed hairs, a small burn on my arm and a sore airway—she hands me a bag of clothes, full of stuff she swears is too small for her. With the bag, the toothbrush, and the toothpaste Gunnar picked up, I run upstairs to clean up and change while Viv offers to take care of the breakfast dishes.
Standing under the hot shower, washing away the lingering smell of smoke, I feel myself coming down a little from the emotional high I was on earlier. Sure, my immediate issues seemed to be resolved with the offer of a roof over my head. Hell, it’s more than I’ve had for a very long time, and the new purpose the work gave me sparks some hope for a future, but the risk of getting too close to these people only looms larger. Already Viv has sharper eyes than I’m comfortable with and Gunnar and his kids are finding ways to slip under my skin. The place where my heart sat frozen in my chest for so long is becoming too warm a place. Caring. It’s a dangerous emotion; the beginning of something that cannot end well. It’s a vulnerable place where if I let my guard down, heartbreak can only follow. There was a time when hope and love were feelings I took for granted, in the form of an innocent little boy whose big eyes showed all the wonder and beauty of the world around him.
“Mommy, why do dogs have four legs and we get only two?”
The dark-haired little boy is sitting at the breakfast island, coloring a crude picture of a speckled puppy in his book.
“Not sure, baby, but I think it’s so they can run faster to catch the ball. Besides, we get two arms to make up for it.”
“But I want to run faster,” he s
ays, a little frown creasing his high forehead.
“Hmmm, but then you wouldn’t be able to give your momma such special hugs now, would you?”
Reaching over, she picks up the child in her arms where he clings like a monkey, his spindly arms wound around her neck. Smiling at his strong squeeze on her, she bends her head to blow a raspberry on his exposed little neck, causing him to giggle out his healthy belly laugh.
A door slamming downstairs brings me back to the image in the fogged up mirror in front of me. I suck in a breath of air in an attempt to clear my chest of the heavy weight that rests there. With a corner of the towel, I wipe away at the condensation on the mirror and find a vaguely familiar face; eyes wet with tears. Furiously I wipe at them and swallow down the blackness that threatens to overwhelm me. Not now.
In a hurry to escape the destructive thoughts, I get dressed as quickly as I can in a pair of cargo pants and another staff T-shirt from the bag Viv gave me and make my way downstairs.
In the kitchen I find Matt and Denise have arrived. “Morning.” Both their heads turn in my direction, and I’m met with a smile from Matt and a rather blank stare from Denise. Wonder what’s up with her.
“Hey Syd,” Matt says, “did you see the burned shed in the alley? Damn, we’re lucky the flames didn’t jump and take the pub with it with that wind last night.”
My eyes flick to Viv who gives her head a little shake, assuring me these two have no idea that was my home. I decide to try for a neutral answer. “Very lucky,” is all I say.
Easily distracted, Matt turns back to his coffee and the conversation with Viv I obviously interrupted. Not so much Denise. She observes me with her head slightly tilted to the side, as if waiting for me to trip up. I remember her saying she’d thought I looked familiar, and a sudden fear that she might connect me with the burned out shed has me hurrying out of the kitchen to get started on my chores. Bad enough that two—well, make that three since Dino seems to see right through me—people who already know more about me than I’m comfortable with. I certainly don’t need Denise and Matt as added risks to my full exposure. It hasn’t even been a week since Viv caught me and already my tightly controlled, self-imposed, solitary existence has unraveled.
“The fuck? Again?”
A now familiar voice sounds behind me as I’m on my knees, on the floor of the men’s washroom, picking up the discarded hand towels that missed the garbage. This time, instead of scurrying away, I giggle as I pull myself up on the sink. A disgruntled Gunnar is right behind me with mild irritation making place for a reluctant grin on his rugged features.
“Fuck, Syd. Do I have to clear my washroom schedule with you before I can take a piss?”
“All yours, boss. I’ll move next door,” I chuckle as I squeeze past him. But the chuckle quickly dies on my lips when the brush of our bodies sends unexpected tingles down my spine. A quick look up reveals the deep jade color of his eyes, darkened with heat. Whoa. Tilting my head down, I try to hide the flush staining my cheeks.
“Thanks.”
I hear the word behind me—uttered in a low growl—before I let the door to the women’s washroom slam shut behind me. I lean my head back against the door and blow out a big breath. This is getting a little bit dangerous.
Gunnar
Holy shit.
I’m pretty sure she felt that zing too, and I’m happy she seems to choose to ignore it as well, but there was no mistaking the physical response or the bright blush on her cheeks. My mind immediately travels to flushed cheeks for an entirely different reason, like having Syd underneath me after I’ve made her come a time or two. As soon as the image pops up, I stamp it down. Not going there. I can’t have that, even at the bottom of my wish list, let alone on top. Probably just the lack of action lately. Maybe it’s time to find a willing body to help me exercise these thoughts right outta my head. She’s too young, or at least I think she is. She’s so damn tiny. Emmy is at least as tall. I wonder how she was ever able to survive on the streets. Of course she’s plenty smart from what I can tell, and although shy and quiet, she doesn’t allow anyone to mess with her, judging from the treatment she handed that sleazeball, Jack Barnes. Which reminds me, I should probably put a bug in the cop’s ear about him. I have a suspicion that he may have been hanging around, looking to get back at me, or maybe even Syd. He could’ve been waiting for her to get off and followed her, but I just find it hard to believe someone would intentionally try to harm someone in such a horrific way, no matter what may have happened. If it’s arson, I’d be more inclined to think it was something else driving it; that they weren’t aware of anyone inside when they torched the shed.
As if on cue, the phone rings on my desk.
“The Skipper.”
“Gunnar Lucas please?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Sergeant Winslow of the Portland Police Department. We met last night?”
I vaguely recognize his voice, “Yes, I remember. What can I do for you?”
“I just received a call from the fire inspector. The preliminary investigation shows arson is likely the cause of the fire. Mr. Lucas, were you aware that shed is listed as your property?”
What? I never knew that. Never even bothered to look twice. I always assumed it was part of the small charter company that’s housed in the building across the alley in the back.
“Well, no. I had no idea. This place has been in my family, going back many years. When I bought my folks out, I never had reason to check the deed. We used the same lawyer.”
“I see. Well, I assume you’ll be putting an insurance claim in now?”
Wait a fucking minute. I can see where this is going and I’m not liking it one bit.
“Is there something you’re implying here, Sergeant Winslow? As I said, I had no idea the shed was part of the property, and frankly, I have no idea whether it even falls under the current insurance policy.” I work hard to keep my temper under control, knowing it wouldn’t do me any good to let it loose.
A deep sigh sounds through the phone. “I’m not sure I was implying anything, Mr. Lucas. I’m simply following up on some information that came our way this morning.”
The hair bristles at the back of my neck. “What kind of information?” I bite off.
“Can’t really go in to that with you, Sir. This is an active investigation at this point, but let me just say that we will make sure to take a closer look at the source of the information.”
A list of possibilities runs through my mind, not the least of which is Jack, but I’m reluctant to talk about him because it involves revealing Syd. So who else would be on my relatively short list of enemies? Cindy, probably, or at least she will be when she finds out I’m going for full custody, effectively cutting off her money train. A picture of the guy who’s come in a few times asking questions pops into my head, but other than being nosey, he hasn’t made me feel that uncomfortable so there’s nothing to indicate he should be considered an enemy.
“Please do, because I’m not sure who’d benefit from passing on false information to you guys.”
“Leave it with me, Mr. Lucas. I’ll be in touch.”
With that, he hangs up, leaving me stewing behind my desk. Days like these, I wish for a normal nine-to-five job. Seems like the devil always shits on the same heap.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gunnar
“Dad? Can I go over to Tasha’s house after school?”
“What about homework?”
“That’s what I’m gonna be doing—we have a project due tomorrow.”
I stick my head around the bathroom door to look at Emmy leaning against the wall in the hallway with a cheeky little smile on her face.
“Tomorrow? And you wait till now to start on it?” To say we’ve had an easy time of it since the kids were dumped off by their mom a few weeks ago would be an exaggeration. Cindy dropped them off, saying she was going out of town and she still hasn’t returned. She called last night and upset Emmy whe
n the girl tried to get her mom to say when she’d be back. When I took the phone from Emmy to get some answers, she hung up on me after yelling, “It’s none of your business”! Still a bitch. If I had any doubts before about hitting her with a full custody claim, last night took care of those.
I’ve been in touch with my lawyer and the application is being drawn up. Not only that, I’ve been passing on all the little bits of information the kids have dropped about Cindy’s behavior. More than once, Emmy’s apparently had to clean up after her drunk-ass and that shit’s not okay with me. The kids’ve been keeping a lot of stuff that goes down at their mom’s house from me. I get it—she’s still their mom—but hearing that she spends most of her time while the kids are with her, drunk out of her mind, makes me see red.
If not for Syd, who’s been taking care of them after school, I might’ve lost it a few times. Dealing with the custody issue, the aftermath of the fire, as well as the looming prospect of a restaurant chain moving in on the other side of the wharf—something Tim discovered for me—I barely have the energy or patience to deal with anything else. That woman seems to have the magic touch with my kids, listening to their afterschool chatter and making sure they keep up with their schoolwork. She even feeds them before Mrs. Danzel—their long time babysitter who stays with them five nights a week—comes and picks them up.
That’s another thing to put on my list: solve my staffing issue so I can have some more time with my kids. Christ.
“Dad?” My daughter’s voice penetrates my thoughts. “Did you hear anything I said?”
“Sorry, girl. Just have a lot going on. What was that?”
“I said I did work on it with Syd. Me and Tasha each had to do part of it on our own and then finish it together. It was assigned for us to work on as a team, so can I go?” I have to hide the smile that threatens to break through. Emmy’s hint of attitude is an almost welcome sign after how withdrawn she’s been since her mom took off.
