by Frankie Love
"An investor for what? What kind of business are you starting? What do you need that amount of money for?"
"We want to start a distillery," Dylan says. "A whiskey distillery."
My eyes grow wide. "You mean using that old recipe of Dad's? Come on. No one wants his moonshine."
"It's good, Marley. You just never drink hard alcohol enough to know. But it'd be nice, wouldn't it, to be our own bosses, not go out for weeks, months at a time doing dangerous work on the crabbing boats? Hell, I don't want to get in some accident and die over fish. I want to do something that I care about. That I believe in."
I smirk. “And you suddenly believe in whiskey?"
"Hell, having a nice glass of liquid courage never hurt anyone. We're right by the Whiskey Mountains. It's kind of meant to be, right?”
"Maybe," I say. "Look, I don't really know what to say, to be honest. I want you guys to pursue your dreams, but sometimes," I swallow, "it would be nice if you'd be happy for me to pursue my dreams too."
"What kind of dreams do you have, Marley?" My brothers all seemed to ask.
"I want to be happy. And today that means going to visit my friend Bellamy. So I'm just going to go down to the docks and charter a boat. Okay?”
My brothers nod in understanding. "That's fine with us. Look, take some money from the drawer to pay for it."
"Oh, so now you're being all chivalrous to me?" I say, taking a bite of my pancake, my appetite arriving in full force. Maybe it's the fact that I know I'm leaving for the day, going out on the sea, getting fresh air and getting to see my friend. I need to talk to a woman. Talk to her about everything that's been happening. "Look, I hope the meeting at the bank goes well."
"All right," Jet says. "And if you happen to know anybody who has half a million dollars lying around, let me know, will ya?"
I roll my eyes. "Sure thing. You know, because of all those millionaires hanging out in the Whiskey Mountains."
Maker
The house is very nearly done. It's not much, a modest three-bedroom cabin, but I was able to ship in nice doors and windows along with high-end appliances. I even had a concrete company come out and pour a patio and a nice long driveway, and a contractor came with a crew and built a deck overlooking the water.
There are plenty of finishing touches that the place needs — like furniture. But for now, I have a mattress on the floor and a roof over my head and it's something. My friends tell me it's more than something, that it's goddamn gorgeous. I didn't pull any punches when it came to expenses. I hired the best to finish the job once I realized that I may be able to hammer in some hardwood, but I'm no master carpenter.
My friends, Jameson and Beam, and my brother Walker helped me out quite a bit, but they have lives they needed to get back to. Now they're off the hook. The job's nearly done and I'm getting in my boat for a day out at Beam and Bellamy's place. We're all meeting out there for a barbecue, and even though it makes me sad to be headed that way without Marley by my side, I'm feeling a little more courageous than I did even a few weeks ago. I'm beginning to feel like maybe I do have something to offer Marley.
I plan on heading to Riverside tomorrow after the barbecue. I figured I'll go to Beam’s, have a burger or two, spend the night on my boat, and then head her way, letting her know I won’t be able to walk away from her again. I'm playing for keeps this time and I'm going to make sure she knows it.
It's a nice day, the height of summer, and where we are in Alaska, the days are long. The sun doesn’t set until late in the night. It doesn't bother me. I've always been a good sleeper. It's the one place I can let my demons lie dormant. And today, as I'm in my captain's chair heading toward my buddy’s place, I think back to being on this boat with Marley.
I run a hand over my beard, trying to figure out just what I'll say when I head her way again. I'm not going to tiptoe around my feelings because for two and a half months, all I've been doing is thinking about her, the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, her pink lips and her heart-shaped face, her freckles and her wavy hair the color of cornfields. God, I want to be with her. I want to be hers. I want to love her, if only she'll let me.
When I get to Beam's, my friends can tell something's on my mind. Wavy's here with the babies. Jemma too. And Bellamy is all smiles because she's expecting as well.
"Look at all these families," I say. "Who the hell would have thought it?"
Wavy laughs. "Oh, Maker. I've heard a few things about your new place, that it's been built with a family in mind. Maybe you'll stop teasing us for laying down roots and you'll plant some of your own."
I shrug, "I have a mind to do that."
We spend the early afternoon around a fire pit, shooting the shit and catching up. Beam and Bellamy had the best time in Mexico on their honeymoon and Bellamy doesn't stop talking about it. It's cute. Makes me wonder where I would want to take Marley for our honeymoon, trying to picture the kind of place she'd like.
Bellamy grew up on the streets. She's had a hard ass life and I hate the role I've had in that. But seeing her now, talking about swim-up bars and margaritas and the all-inclusive resort they stayed at, it makes me really fucking proud of her and Beam for making it work.
By the time Beam finishes grilling the burgers and hot dogs, Bellamy excuses herself. "Sorry, I'll be right back, but I think Marley's here."
She walks away before I can say any more and Jameson pulls out a bottle of whiskey. "Hey, let's have a drink before we eat."
Walker grins. "Sure. What are we toasting?"
"I don't know. That we're all here, happy, healthy?”
"It's good enough for me," I say as Jameson hands out a round. We all take a drink and grimace. "Damn, it's hard to find good whiskey out here."
"I know, right? You'd think there'd be some better shit that's made in the region, but I can't find any. Every time I'm out, I pick up a bottle, but nothing has seemed to sit well with me."
We chuckle, finishing the shots and then setting the glasses aside as I try to brace myself for what comes next. Marley is here. Did the guys know she was coming?
I appreciate Jameson's gift of liquid courage when I needed it most. And as Marley walks up to the patio where we are all relaxing, my heart starts to pound. She is even more beautiful than I remembered. It’s like she goddamn glows.
She’s walking toward us with Bellamy. They're whispering and I tense. It’s time to step the fuck up.
Standing, I wipe my hands on my jeans, and my brother looks over at me. "You got this, bro," he says, and I shake my head, hoping he's right.
"Marley came just in time for lunch," Bellamy says. "You hungry, honey?"
She nods slowly, her eyes locked on mine. “Maker, I didn't realize that you were going to be here," she says, stammering and looking around the circle.
Bellamy smiles. "Yeah, isn't that great? He just showed up. The guys all wanted to get together. You know how the boys can be."
She nods. "Yeah. I do know how boys can be."
"That's right. You have three brothers, right?" Jemma asks.
Marley nods. "Yeah. I do. Well, it's nice to see everybody again."
Her eyes dart between the women and I wonder what she's thinking, if she regrets showing up here. "How did you get here?" I ask, my voice gruffer than I'd like.
"I chartered a boat. When I called Bellamy earlier, she said that I could stay the night, so I think I'll call the same guy to come back out tomorrow to pick me up."
"Good timing," Wavy says. "We're staying the night too.”
"Hey, that was super smart of you guys to build those yurts down by the water. With the three of them, you'll be able to host lots of barbecues over the years,” Jameson adds.
Beam smiles with pride and we dish up our food. We head to some picnic tables that Beam built underneath the tree house and while holding a paper plate, I pull Marley aside. "Hey, it's really good to see you," I say.
She nods slowly. "I really had no idea you were going to b
e here."
"Are you angry I am?"
She shakes her head. "No, not at all. I'm just a little caught off guard."
Jemma calls out for Marley. "Come sit next to me," she says. "I'm dying to know if you have any recommendations for photographers in Riverside. I really want to get portraits done with Jameson."
Marley smiles tightly at me. "We'll talk later?" she says, asking it like it's a question.
I nod tightly, wanting to do so much more than talk. She walks away, sitting with the ladies, and I head over to the guys who are still discussing the fact that all the whiskey in Alaska tastes like shit.
"Hey," I say, "maybe we can do something about that."
"What do you mean?" Walker asks.
"Well, I was telling you how I want to figure out something to invest in," I say. "I want to do something that means something, and hell, having a good drink of whiskey means something to me."
The guys all crack up. "Here, here," Beam says, raising his can of beer.
"So you want to invest in some sort of whiskey business?" Jameson asks. "Because I might know some guys."
"Yeah?" I say, thinking he probably does have the connections, considering he's the one who is from this neck of the woods.
"Yeah, there are some guys out in Riverside who are looking to open a distillery. They have some capital, but need more. I heard they're going to some banks and looking around. They want to run it, but I can get you their names if you'd like," he tells me.
I nod. "Yeah, that sounds about right. I mean, hell, making whiskey in the Whiskey Mountains seems like destiny, doesn't it?"
Everyone nods. "Sure does. And hell, coming here feels like destiny too,” Beam says.
I couldn't agree more because being here in Alaska feels like coming home. I look across the yard, over at Marley at the table with the ladies. My heart tightens because being with her is like coming home.
I don't want to miss my opportunity to tell her that tonight.
And hell, tonight, I'll do more than tell her. I'll show her because she's not leaving this island unless she knows exactly where I stand.
And I plan to stand by her side the rest of my life.
Marley
Everyone who was over, spent all afternoon talking and catching up on the patio. Right after dinner, I consider pulling Bellamy aside and telling her what's going on with me. But when I came here today, I wasn't anticipating the whole Whiskey Mountain crew to be together. With everyone here, I'm less sure of myself. Now telling Bellamy before I tell Maker feels wrong, like I'm betraying him, which is crazy all things considered. He hasn't tried to get in touch with me once. It hurts thinking about that. But then I think about the way my brothers pummeled him to the ground. Did more than split his lip, they cracked my heart in two. And so why would Maker come back to me, come back to Riverside to get his ass kicked all over again?
I wish my brothers had gone easier, or I wish that Maker had fought harder. It's not that he didn't give it his all but I know he was holding back. I know he didn't want to fight. I know that because I still believe, after all of this, that Maker is trying to be good, to be honorable. Maybe these are just lies I'm telling myself, because after Wavy gets her babies to bed and everyone is sitting around a bonfire, they start talking about the old days. And even though I know there is so much pain laced in those memories in California when Maker was in charge of a drug ring, there's some sentimentality over some parties they all had, some nights out they shared, even if Jemma and Bellamy were paid escorts on those evenings.
But I know they're all too scared to touch too close to the truth where it stopped being fun nights out and started being hurtful, painful, filled with shame. The laughter dies out as everyone seems to be reminiscing on the past and their role in it. I've never felt less like I fit in in my entire life.
"Fuck," Jameson says, "sometimes I wish I'd been in California with you guys." His words remind me that he's from Alaska, same as me. He knows my brothers, but I doubt he knows who I am.
"Nah," Beam says, "you wouldn't have wanted to be there. You figured it out a long time ago, staying in the mountains."
Jemma nods in agreement, taking her husband's hand. "It's true, Jameson. I know it sounds glamorous and fun. Fancy yachts and fancy food and fancy clothes, but it was lonely."
"Lonelier than the mountains?" Jameson asks.
"A different kind of lonely," Walker says. "The kind of lonely that comes when you're in a crowded room and yet you feel like you're all alone. That's what it felt like to live in California."
Maker stiffens, running a hand over his beard, looking deep into the fire. And I want to leave. Part of me wishes I hadn't come at all because being reminded of where Maker comes from makes me question everything. I think of the baby inside of me, about the father they will have, a man who has killed, who has cheated and lied. Has he paid enough for his sins, I wonder, to change for good? I don't know.
Maker clears his throat. "I would never want to go back to that time," he says. "I fucked up more than I want to admit and I know I haven't properly apologized for all that’s gone down."
Bellamy shakes her head. "No, Maker. You saved my life."
Wavy speaks up too. "And you were there when we needed you."
Jemma nods. "It's true, Maker. You may have had a dirty past but it seems like you've come clean now."
"And you guys will really forgive me after all that shit, after all that pain and trouble?"
"Yeah, Maker, we do," Walker says. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'll say it as long as you need to hear it, brother. We've all fucked up in our own ways."
Jemma laughs. "Well, Wavy never really fucked up. She was always kind of the perfect girl."
Wavy shakes her head and even through the fire I can see the pink on her cheeks, the embarrassment at being called out. "I'm not the angel. Isn't that Marley Grove?"
"Marley Grove," Jameson says. "I didn't realize. Are your brothers Jet and Gavin?"
I nod. "Yeah, and Dylan. I was wondering if you would put two and two together."
"Hot damn," Jameson says, and he chuckles. "Okay. I think it all makes a little more sense now."
"What do you mean, makes more sense?"
"Oh, nothing," he says, "it's just Maker spent the last few months talking about this girl that's too good for him and now I understand why. I didn't realize you were Marley Grove."
Bellamy scowls. "Jameson. Don't say that."
Maker looks down into the fire, not meeting my eyes.
"I think you've had too much to drink," Jemma says. "Jameson, you need to hold your tongue."
He kisses his wife. "You're telling me what I need to hold?"
She laughs, "You're bad."
"I could get worse," he says.
"Oh my God, you are such a troublemaker. Listen, Marley, Jameson doesn't know what he's talking about."
"He does though, doesn't he?" Maker says, speaking up. "There's a reason I didn't come after you. It's because you're way too good."
"Hey," Wavy says, cutting in uncharacteristically. "I think you guys should go talk alone. I feel like these other men, Beam and Jameson and my darling husband Walker, have had too much whiskey tonight and I don't want them to say something their wives will regret. So I'm calling it a night. Walker, you're coming with me. Let's go check on the babies. Thank you again, Bellamy. This was such a fun night. I'll be sure to get up in the morning to help you with breakfast."
Walker and Wavy leave and the other two couples stand.
"Sorry," Jameson says. "I truly didn't mean anything by it. I wasn't trying to start anything. And I reckon everyone's right. I have had too much to drink, too much shitty ass whiskey."
Jemma grabs him by the collar and drags him away, and Beam and Bellamy pause. "I'm glad you came, Marley," Bellamy tells me, "and I hope this isn't getting too awkward." She looks between me and Maker.
I shake my head. "No, I'm fine. I'll just stay down at the yurt?"
; "Yeah, your bag's already in there." We had dropped it off before we came up to the barbecue.
"Thank you," I say. "I'll be up to help for breakfast too. I'm pretty good at making bacon and pancakes."
"Perfect," Bellamy says, giving me a quick hug. "And, Maker, you be nice."
Beam shakes his head, lifting his hands in defense as if he had nothing to do with it.
And he walks away, leaving us alone. The fire's nearly out and Maker tosses some water on top of it, killing the last of the flames. "That got awkward," I say.
"It did," Maker says stoically.
"I never would have come here if I'd known."
Maker looks up then, sharply. "You wouldn't have? Because here I am wanting to believe that if you knew I was here you'd want to be here more than ever."
"There might be some truth in that," I say, "but…"
"But what?" Maker asks. "You're mad at me?"
"Do I have reason to be?" I ask him.
"I wanted to come to Riverside to see you. I was planning on coming tomorrow, though I doubt you believe that now."
"I believe you when you tell me things," I tell him. "I believe in you," I say more firmly.
"Why? You listened to everyone talking tonight. I fucked things up 100 times over."
"Yeah?" I say. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?"
"Maybe," he says, strain in his voice. He stands, walking toward me and I get to my feet, looking up at him.
"I wish you would have come back for me," I tell him honestly, plainly.
"Your brothers hate me."
"So?" I ask.
"So, I didn't want to get my ass handed to me again. And beyond that, I didn't want my being there to hurt you. I care too much about you, Marley. I don't want to see you hurt on my account."
"Then don't hurt me," I say. "Instead, kiss me."
And so Maker does. Without wasting time, without hesitation, he lowers his mouth to mine and he kisses me, sweeping me off my feet all over again.
Maker
