by Lena North
Bo’s eyes crinkled in the corners, and he pressed his lips together slightly but he didn’t say anything, and after a stunned silence, Gilmore murmured something about checking on the food and left the room.
“I saw your drawing in my cousin’s shop,” Murielle said sweetly, and added, “It must have been good for you to practice, and I’m sure you’ll improve over time. It wasn’t bad at all, in spite of the lines being rather crude.”
All the men straightened, but I started laughing.
“Thank you,” I said happily, “It’s a chalkboard in a coffee shop, so crude is what should be there. And I’m so sorry I had to wipe out absolutely everything that you had done, including the gridlines you used when you tried to make it straight. I didn’t need them at all, but I hope it won’t be too much trouble for you to draw new ones.”
I kept my cheerful smile, holding her angry gaze and wondering what she’d say next when a low voice startled me.
“Baby.”
I turned, and my smile went from fake to genuine in a heartbeat.
“Miller,” I sighed. “Don’t tell me it’s time to eat already? We’re having such a good time here.”
“Let’s eat,” Gilmore boomed from the buffet, answering my question, and I jumped up with a girly squeal.
“Food!”
“Yes!” Bo cheered and helped Sloane up from the couch.
“Baby,” Miller repeated on a sigh, but when I looked at him, he was smiling sweetly, so I did too and then we joined the others at the buffet table.
Dinner was excellent, and the mood was great. Murielle stayed by her husband’s side, and I stayed away from them. To my surprise, she seemed to be friendly with Carson, although a short, whispered conversation with Bo made his brows lower, and he stayed away from her after that. She hadn’t been very nice, but I mostly felt sorry for her, being a part of that big lovely family but not appreciating it, and thus not being appreciated.
“I hear you’re going to Thend next week?” Gilmore asked me, and I smiled at him.
“Absolutely,” I said.
I had told Miller a little about my family earlier that day. When I explained that things had not been good when I left, but that I felt ready to go back and face Reuben and my foster brothers, he’d immediately offered to go with me.
“You’re from Thend?” Hare asked.
“Absolutely,” I repeated, and giggled at his surprise, although I understood where it came from.
Thend was a small cluster of houses on the northern tip of the plains, tucked in next to the mountain range. There were farms spread out in the area, but the population was sparse, and they were poor. As in, dirt poor struggling each day to survive poor. They were also mostly dark-skinned, and stocky. My pale shade of pasty beige and wavy, brown hair was very different, and when Hawker had likened me to a mosquito, he hadn’t been entirely inaccurate.
“I was a foster child to a family there for several years,” I explained.
“How depressing,” Murielle drawled.
Miller moved, but I put a hand on his arm.
“My foster mother struggled with cancer for three years, and then she died, so yes, Murielle. I guess you could say it was depressing,” I said quietly.
Something passed through her eyes, and her mouth twitched.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, to my surprise. “I didn’t mean –”
“I know,” I said. “It’s easy to accidentally hurt people with words, but there are things that hurt worse.”
There was another long uncomfortable silence, but I refused to be the one breaking it.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, and I smiled at her.
“It’s okay,” I said.
“When do you want to go?” Mac asked. “Wednesday would be best for me to be here, but I can shift things around.”
“Wednesday works for me,” Miller said calmly, and since everyone had stopped glaring at Murielle, I smiled happily.
“Wednesday it is,” I exclaimed, but then my brows went up. “Don’t look, but I think we have a secret agent spying on us,” I stage whispered with a grin.
“Althea, for heaven’s sake,” Murielle snapped immediately and looked over her shoulder at her daughter who quickly disappeared behind a corner. “Excuse me,” she added, and we watched her in silence as she marched across the floor in long angry strides.
Wilder made an annoyed sound and Hawkers brows had lowered, though I didn’t know if they were upset with Althea for sneaking around past her bedtime or with Murielle for being so ridiculously angry about it.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I didn’t think it was such a big deal, I shouldn’t –”
“It isn’t a big deal, Mary,” Hawker said. “Murielle is the only one who thinks so,” he added with a long look at his brother.
“How about dessert?” Sloane interrupted, and I smiled at her.
“Absolutely,” I said and nudged Wilder. “Let it go,” I murmured, and she sighed.
We ate enormous pieces of cheesecake, and slowly the irritation faded away and the mood was good again in a way not even the return of a stone-faced Murielle could cut through. Miller had his arm around me, and I leaned my head on his shoulder, on the brink of falling asleep when I heard Gilmore.
“Here it is,” he said, and there was a thud on the table in front of me.
I opened my eyes slowly and saw exactly what I thought I’d see.
The Johns’ family Bible.
“No,” I said.
“Baby,” Miller muttered, although it sounded as if he was laughing.
I focused on Gilmore instead and smiled at the old man.
“I will not marry anyone today, you know,” I said quietly. “We can all accept that fact, or things will become embarrassing. Either way is fine with me, but I really would prefer a dignified acceptance.”
“Mary,” Hawker sighed. “You’re expecting Miller’s child. You’ll be living with him. You’re building a life together…” he trailed off, and I stared at him, wondering if the man was out of his mind. Then he smiled confidently and added, “Marriage is a celebration of love, isn’t it?”
I opened my mouth, and couldn’t get a sound out. Was he for real?
“Uh, Dad,” Wilder whispered loudly.
“Quiet,” he said gently.
“Dad,” she insisted.
“What?” he asked impatiently.
“Sloane,” Wilder said and twitched her head toward the woman next to her father.
Sloane was grinning widely, knowing that he’d put his foot deeply into a pile of manure, and clearly looking forward to what would come.
“Sloane, what?” he asked with his brows high on his forehead.
This made Mac bark out laughter, but Wilder lost control of her temper.
“Sloane is expecting your child, you’re living together and work around everything so that you have a life together,” she hissed, and added, “I haven’t seen you exchanging any vows.”
“This is true,” Sloane murmured, and added lazily, “I guess we’re not ready to celebrate our love, Hawker?”
I bit my lip, and since Miller’s chest suddenly shook I knew he also had a hard time holding back laughter. Hawker turned slowly toward Sloane and raised his brows.
“You want to get married?” he asked.
“Not really,” she said. “But I don’t get why Mary must celebrate her love when you don’t have to.”
“I’m the justice of the peace, remember. I can’t very well marry myself,” Hawker muttered.
“Aha,” Gilmore boomed so loudly we all jumped. “You forget that I am one too. We can schedule it for any time that works for you both? This weekend perhaps?”
“Da,” Hawker said exasperatedly.
“Or any other time that you think is suitable. If I remember correctly, it wasn’t difficult…” Gilmore continued, frowned, and muttered, “I think that a few witnesses were required?�
��
“I’d be more than happy to bear witness to the blessed nuptials,” Miller said calmly, although I felt his belly quiver.
“Nuptials! I totally adore nuptials! Please, Gilmore, can I be a blessed witness too?” Bo exclaimed gleefully, and loudly.
“Excellent,” Gilmore said and turned to his son who looked like he was ready to explode. Gilmore immediately narrowed his brows and barked, “Hawker Patrick Johns, I’m sure you wouldn’t dream of insulting Sloane and would be happy to accept her hand in marriage. After all, I think I heard you said that marriage is a celebration of love?”
When Hawker said not a word, his father grunted, “Answer me, boy.”
“Yes,” Hawker hissed. “I –”
“Excellent,” Gilmore interrupted and turned to Sloane. “And you,” he sighed, “The beautiful Sloane Parks. You would make him a perfect wife, which is something I’m sure you would agree to too?”
She stared at him, and he grinned.
“Yes?” she said although it sounded more like a question.
“Yes,” Gilmore boomed. “I think that was it.”
There was a stunned silence, and I heard Miller make a strangled, hoarse sound.
“Well?” Gilmore said impatiently, “What are you waiting for, son? You may kiss your bride now.”
“But…” Hawker was for once speechless.
Then Wilder started giggling hysterically, and jumped to her feet, raised her empty beer bottle, and shouted, “To the happy couple!”
Loud, uproarious laughter echoed through the room as we all cheered for the newlyweds, but when we sat down again, neither Hawker, Sloane or Gilmore had moved.
“You married us, Gil?” Sloane whispered.
“I think so,” he replied.
“Yeah, Sloane,” Hawker said. “He did. Witnesses. Our full names, mentioning marriage, and we both said yes.”
The stunned silence that ensued was deafening. I had assumed it was a joke on Hawker’s behalf, and when I saw Wilder’s face, I knew she’d thought the same.
“Dad…” she whispered, but his eyes were on Sloane.
Suddenly he smiled a little, looking very sweet as he did, and then he murmured, “I love you, babe. I would have asked eventually.”
“I wouldn’t have accepted,” she snorted.
“You would have. Eventually,” he said, and murmured, “Sloane Johns.”
She reared back and raised her brows.
“You’d better believe I’ll hyphenate,” she said haughtily, and added, “Da will be furious when he hears about this.”
“Yeah,” Hawker agreed, with no little amount of satisfaction in his voice.
Cheers erupted again, although this time the laughter was out of happiness, and our congratulations to the stunned couple were heartfelt, although mine was perhaps a little smug. Murielle said all the right things, but she kept it short, and it didn’t seem sincere.
When we’d settled on the couches and chairs again, Hawker muttered, “Hyphenate, my ass.”
“Sloane Parks-Johns,” Sloane said. “It sounds dignified.”
“It sounds ridiculous.”
“It actually does sound nice,” Jinx said. “I think I’ll –”
“No,” Dante interrupted her calmly.
“But it would –”
“Nellie. No.”
She turned to him and grinned, “Okay,” she said.
“What the –” Miller said and stared at Dante as if he’d never seen him before. “She agreed. Just like that.”
“Mill, please. I don’t run around swinging my fists and cursing all the time, but I get what I want when it matters,” Dante said, smiling calmly. Then he added smugly, “I don’t see a ring on your girl’s finger.”
Hawker started laughing, and I could tell that Miller tried hard to hold his anger, with no success at all.
“Shit,” he muttered, but he did it laughing.
Everyone got ready to leave shortly after that, and since it wasn’t very late, Bo and Carson decided to drive the few hours home instead of staying with what had turned out to be the newlyweds.
Miller laughed all the way home, and when he locked the door, he started again.
“Miller, it was sweet,” I told him.
“That sneaky old man,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” I said. “His brothers seemed happy,” I added.
“They like Sloane.”
“I don’t think Magnus’ wife likes Sloane,” I said quietly.
“No, baby, she doesn’t,” he replied and looked searchingly at me. “She wanted Hawker, and thinks she settled for Mags.”
“That’s sad,” I whispered.
“She’s a bitch,” he said, and when I wanted to protest, he insisted, “She is, honey. I’ve known her all my life and avoided her most of it. Hawk stayed clear of her, and the rest of us did too.”
“The rest of you?”
“Honey, she knows about the birds. Most people in the village has no clue, but some know, and she figured it out somehow. She wanted one.”
“A bird?”
“Sweetie, no,” he said gently. “One of the men from the families. She wanted a child who had a bird.”
“Why?” I asked, not getting what she would gain out of that.
“Don’t know. Power? Importance? Feeling special?”
“But that’s ridiculous,” I said.
“Oh, Mary,” he chuckled, “I love you so.”
“I love you too,” I said, and since he leaned down I tilted my head back.
Later we were in our usual position in bed, and I was tucked tightly into his side.
“What did you discuss in your secret huddle?” I asked.
“Huddle?” he asked.
“Powwow? Conclave? What do I know what you call your secret get-togethers?” I said sleepily.
“Meeting would be a good word,” he chuckled. “We talked about the code sheets and Francesco Fratinelli.”
“Code sheets?”
“The papers Willy left for Wilder. Jinx thinks it’s some kind of code, but she had no clue how to decipher them and went on forever about keys and substitution methods. Olly will see if he can find someone we can trust.”
“Olly?”
“Yeah. He knows a bunch of computer geeks, though they’re mostly hackers, so he wasn’t sure, and we can’t exactly publish the sheets on the net.”
“Why not?” I asked curiously.
What a strange world they lived in, talking about bad guys and hackers as if it was nothing unusual at all.
“Because –” He stopped speaking and after a while, he murmured, “I actually don’t know why we can’t.”
“So, do it. Pretend it’s to filter out applicants to some fancy project at that research center Jinx is planning. Make it into a competition, and say that the ones who send in the right answer will have a chance to get an interview with her. If someone figures it out, they will absolutely not tell anyone else, for fear of losing out on the possibility to meet the famous Jiminella Sweetwater.”
He got up on an elbow and stared at me.
“What?” I asked.
“We spent a lot of time discussing what to do with the damned sheets, while you were covertly insulting Murielle Johns,” he murmured. “Next time, I’ll insult Murielle, and you can sit in on the meeting.”
Chapte
r Eighteen
Mansion
When we walked into my apartment, it felt like I had been away for a lifetime. So much had happened and I sighed as I stood in my small one bedroom place, in a dingy apartment building on the south side of Prosper.
I’d given notice, and the landlord was letting me out of the lease immediately so we would pack everything up, although I suspected that I’d want to throw away most of it. The furniture was the cheapest second-hand things I’d been able to find, and since I’d made sure my waitress jobs included free meals, there were only a
few basics in the kitchen.
Carson and Bo had wanted to come with us, but I’d declined, saying that it would be quick and their help wasn’t needed. I’d tried to get Miller to stay with his brother while I sorted out my things, but that had apparently not even been worth replying to because he’d just snorted and moved me to the passenger side of his car.
“I want my car,” I muttered when we’d been on the road for a while.
“Baby, don’t call it a car,” Miller said with a pained expression on his face. “Hurts to hear that piece of sh-”
“So you said already,” I snapped. “But it takes me from point A to point B, and it has four wheels, so it’s clearly a car. It’s also the only thing I can afford.”
“Mary,” he started, but I knew what he was going to say, or at least I suspected that I knew.
“No.”
“Ba –”
“No. No Mary, or baby, or honey. You are not buying a car for me.”
“Wasn’t planning to,” he said.
“Really?” I asked, feeling a little bit stupid, but mostly very surprised.
He was silent for a while and then he muttered, “Okay, yeah. I was going to say that you could use this one and I’ll drive the bike. It’ll be too cold for the bike in a few months so –”
“Miller, no. I can’t accept that. I’ll do my final exams, then I’ll figure something out. I’ll try to sell some of my illustrations, or if there’s an opening at the museum in Twin City, I could commute from Norton.”
“You can’t commute to Twin City, honey. You’ll spend at least two hours in that crap vehicle you own, every day, and then when the baby comes, what’ll you do?”
Shit. I hadn’t thought about that.
“I love you,” he said gently.
“I love you too,” I replied quietly.
“Good. We’re in a relationship, you're being stubborn, but we both know you’ll eventually be my wife. You’re going to have to accept that I’m going to pay for shit.”
“The house, yes. My own clothes and what I drive – no. I have to contribute to our family, Miller.”
He stretched out a hand to grab mine so abruptly I jumped, and then he raised my hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles gently.
