A Change Of Pace

by Freya Barker

  This doesn't shock me. She probably doesn't realize that I've seen my share of respectable, wonderful people cave under any one of those traumatic experiences. She had a fucking tsunami of them.

  "Okay."

  She looks confused at my lack of reaction. "I was pretty messed up, Newt."

  "I'm sure you were, and the fact you managed to pull yourself off that ledge is only a testament to your character. Did you really expect me to think anything else?"

  Another snort.

  "Well, yeah. Who'd want their kid treated by a therapist with that kind of history?"

  "Any of them with half a brain. Who's better qualified to help their emotionally challenged kids than someone who actually knows what they're talking about? Someone who's been there and lived through it?"

  Her mouth falls open and I suppress a smile. It's clearly not a viewpoint she's considered.

  "Huh. I never thought of it like that."

  "Good. Glad we got that sorted." I pick a rib off my plate. "Now eat. Dinner's getting cold."

  Freya

  I feel lighter. Relieved.

  With Newt I can let go of that shield I hold up with everyone but my brother. I can be honest, which is why I feel I can voice the concern that's been nagging me. I wait until we're doing dishes; I wash and Newt dries. We're talking about places we've been and places we still want to see, when I see an opening and take it.

  "What if the biopsy comes back positive? Who says I won't slide back down that hole?"

  "I do," Newt says, barely breaking stride as he grabs the next plate from the drying rack. "'Cause you won't let it happen, and you've got your brother and me to remind you."

  I drop the sponge in the soapy water and turn around, sliding a wet hand around his neck and lifting up on my toes to touch my lips to his.

  "Ewwww." I didn't hear Millie come in, but apparently the dogs did, since they're already crowding her at the front door. Newt swivels around. "I didn't need to see that," she adds with dramatic flair, and her dad laughs at her.

  "Then how come you almost fell through the window spying, when I kissed Freddy earlier?"

  She shrugs her shoulders in response, as she walks into the kitchen and dives straight into the fridge.

  "How come you're home this early anyway? Thought you guys were going to stay for the fireworks?"

  "Jenna's little sister got sick. She was puking her hot dog all over the sidewalk. Gross. I'm pissed we're missing the fireworks, though."

  "Mind your mouth."

  "Sorry, Daddy," she immediately apologizes, before turning to me with her eyebrows raised and a silent oops on her lips.

  I'm guessing Jenna is the name of Millie's new friend, and it strikes me that even just in the past few days, she sounds more like a real teenager than the sullen girl I first met in the student counsellor's office at school. Whether it is their move here, new friends, maybe even our talks—and it's probably a combination of all the above—I'm glad to see more of the real Millie every day.

  "You know what? We might be able to see some of the fireworks off your dock, at least the big ones. We can leash up the puppies and drag some chairs out there," I suggest. "The bugs shouldn't be too bad right now."

  Fifteen minutes later, the first faint booms of fireworks sound in the distance as we're all looking to the south, in the direction of Parry Sound.

  "I can't see anything," Millie complains.

  "Maybe we're just too far to see fireworks, but you don't get skies like this in the city, Sweet Pea," Newt points out, tilting his head back to look at the stars.

  "Did you know, if you spot a satellite and you keep looking for ninety minutes, it'll come around again?" I remember spending many nights sleeping under the stars when I was young. My brother and I would sometimes go camping in Killbear Provincial Park, not too far from here.

  "That fast?" Millie discards her chair and flops on her back on the dock.

  "Isn't it amazing? Always makes me feel so small. So insignificant in the grand scope of things."

  "Let's get rid of these chairs," Newt suggests, moving the chairs out of the way.

  He lies down on the dock next to his daughter and motions for me to lie down on his other side. He finds my hand, entwines our fingers, and whispers in my ear, "You are not insignificant."

  I turn my face and find him studying me intently. For a moment we get lost in each other’s eyes. No words are exchanged, but volumes are spoken.

  "Hey, what's that?" Millie wants to know and I lift my head slightly to look beyond Newt. She's pointing to the north where just now, a faint trail of green starts forming, running parallel to the tree line.

  "Auroral Borealis, it's pretty rare, especially in the summer. I've only seen it up here once before, when I was a teenager," I explain, watching as the Northern Lights slowly swirl through the sky, changing colour.

  "What causes it?"

  "It's actually small charged particles that are released in an explosion in the sun's outer atmosphere. When those particles hit the atmosphere around earth, it creates this light."

  "That's so cool." Millie smiles at me before turning back to the light display.

  "Beautiful," Newt rumbles, giving my hand a squeeze.

  By the time the last streak of light fades in the sky, the puppies are restless. We let them have a pee on the grass before heading in.

  "Bedtime, Millie," Newt announces when we get inside, pulling his daughter close to kiss her head.

  "I should go too," I share, after a quick glance at the kitchen clock. It's almost eleven thirty. I have a full day ahead and euchre tomorrow night, which will likely be a late one as well. "Night, Millie."

  "Night, Freddy." She untangles herself from her dad's arms, walks straight up to me, and surprises me by throwing her arms around my neck for a hug. "That was better than fireworks," she whispers in my ear, before darting past me and up the stairs.

  When my eyes find Newt, he's leaning on the counter, a warm smile playing on his lips.

  "Can I have one of those?" he asks.

  "I can do you one better," I promise, walking straight into his arms, my head tilted back for a kiss.

  "Wish you could stay."

  "Me too, but I have to work tomorrow."

  "I know."

  He helps me gather up the dogs and walks me out to my car, his arm slung comfortably over my shoulder. Feels nice—connected.

  With the dogs tucked away in the back of my car, Newt turns me so my back is against the car. Both his hands come up to hold my face as he softly kisses my mouth; first one corner, then the other, before he gently tugs my bottom lip between his. I feel the wet tip of his tongue trace the plump flesh, before releasing it.

  "That was a good night," he whispers, his mouth just a hair away from mine.

  "I'm sorry for almost ruining our first date with my sordid story."

  He snorts, backing away slightly so he can look me in the eye. "You're kidding, right? I think incredible sex before dinner, the trust of a beautiful woman during, and a phenomenal light show under the stars with my girls after, qualifies as probably the best possible first date in the history of first dates."

  TWENTY-ONE

  Freddy

  "So what's this I hear?"

  I've barely set foot in Don Cherry's and Maggie comes charging up.

  I contemplated skipping again, after a frustrating day, but then I'd just be sitting at home, giving my mind free range to churn. The distraction of a game of euchre is much better.

  I had Nicholas in again, who apparently was caught sniffing glue from a paper bag on school property with a bunch of equally intelligent contemporaries, among whom one Billy Baldwin. Guess his father wasn't able to keep the kid in check as he said he would, although I doubt less than a full set of shackles would've kept that kid from seeking out trouble. Hearing he now hangs with Nicolas does not bode good things.

  I see Nicholas as salvageable, whereas Billy is pretty much a lost cause. I hate to say that about
kids—even though he just turned eighteen, and is now technically an adult—but Billy has crossed so many lines in his young life, I just can't see him finding his way back.

  The boys were tagged by security, who called in the cops. The added mark on young Baldwin's record is not going to gain any favours with the judge, who has to decide his fate in the assault case. Anyone with an ounce of common sense can see the writing on the wall.

  Even Jim, who popped into the office over lunch—offering apologies again which I swiftly dismissed—seems to have clued in. He seems to be making some strides, having been at the courthouse this morning for an emergency hearing. The judge apparently took one look at the police reports—Ella's assault of a police officer and Billy's domestic disturbance and assault charges—and signed off the on temporary custody order for Jordan immediately. In the meantime, I managed to get him a referral for Billy with a psychiatrist in Barrie, who works with young adults in the correctional system. Jim was pretty dejected when I reminded him since Billy is now legally an adult; there is no way to force him to go. He has to want it.

  After today, I'm so glad Newt doesn't have a son. Boys are cocky and reckless at that age. The testosterone is potent—and so is the stupidity.

  "So?" Maggie repeats when I don't answer fast enough for her liking.

  "Sweetie, I don't even know what you're talking about." I walk up to the bar, in desperate need of a beer, and she hurries after me.

  "Newt Tobias. The new resident silver fox, who apparently you snatched from Phyllis' clutches?"

  "Say what?"

  "When I got here, Mandy dragged me into the ladies’ room and told me that Phyllis told her she was seeing the guy when you inserted yourself, and he broke it off with her." Maggie's eyes twinkle as she tells me this.

  My mouth is open; I can't even begin to respond to this kind of playground antic. I toss back my beer and immediately ask for another.

  "I'm not even going to justify that with a response," I finally manage, "but I will say that woman is so far up her own ass, it's a miracle she's still walking."

  Maggie snickers and gives my shoulder a shove.

  "Chill out. Everyone but Mandy knows Phyllis is full of crap, but what intrigues me is the possibility you have snagged yourself that good-looking hunk'a man who was in here two weeks ago? Is he coming tonight?"

  I love Maggie, I do, but there are times I just want to stuff her mouth with a dirty rag and slap some duct tape on it. Seeing as that would probably be frowned on, I'd do best just to give her something.

  "Look, this is all very new so I'd appreciate it if you could keep it to yourself. We've had all of one official date. And no, he's not coming tonight, at least not that I'm aware of. Now can we go play some euchre?"

  After a night spent dodging Phyllis' glares, and trying hard not to break my own two-beer rule to have another one instead of the water I've been sipping, I call it quits at eleven.

  At home I do a quick check of the barn, then let Boulder and Bijou outside for a quick pee, before I head up to bed. I check my phone for the time when I slide under the covers. Eleven forty. I'd promised Newt to shoot him a message when I got home, no matter what time. I hope he has his ringer off when I shoot a quick text.

  "How was it?" he asks, when I answer the phone on the first ring.

  "The euchre was fine, some of the company...not so much."

  "Let me guess, Phyllis was there?"

  "Got it in one, Sir," I quip and he chuckles.

  "Sir, huh? I kinda like the sound of that." His deep voice is dripping with innuendo and this time it's me snickering.

  "Not in this lifetime, Bozo, dream on."

  "Not even a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs? You can call me Bozo if you prefer—you don't have to call me Sir."

  I laugh at his antics and can't stop the yawn from escaping.

  "Tired?"

  "A bit."

  "Okay, then I'll let you go, we can talk about your day, and what me and my fuzzy handcuffs have planned for you, tomorrow. Sleep tight, Frederique."

  "Night, Bozo."

  The last thing I hear is his chuckle before I drift off to sleep.

  -

  First thing this morning, when I park in front of the clinic, a furious Ella is in my face. I'd seen the Mustang parked, but didn't put two and two together until I see her marching toward me. I'm just getting Boulder out of the car when she grabs me by the shoulder and swings me around. The dog growls deep in his throat, and I have to close the door again to keep him contained.

  "You set him up to do this," she hisses, waving a wad of papers in my face. "Just waiting for the right time to get back at me, didn't you?"

  "Ella, I don't—"

  "Served me with a temporary custody order at the crack of dawn. Told me I wasn't fit to be a mother, that the only good I ever gave him was Jordan. He said he was going to make damn sure, from here on in, my son would be looked after properly. With your help," she rambles, her eyes wild.

  I don't see it coming when she clocks me on the side of my face with a closed fist. I stumble back, slumping against the side of my car where Boulder is going nuts, barking and clawing at the window.

  "Hey!" Behind Ella I see Jess running across the parking lot toward us.

  The distraught woman is completely oblivious and leans into me screeching, her spit flying in my face, "With your help!"

  "Hey!" Jess shouts louder when she reaches us, stepping between the raging woman and me. "Back the fuck away from her." Despite the extreme situation, or perhaps because of it, I giggle at Jess dropping an F-bomb. She'll use an occasional darn, or bloody hell, but she has to be really pissed for the last. I didn't think fuck was part of her vernacular. The short older woman is occasionally a pain in my ass, but under the surface she's always had my back. As is evident from the way she puts herself in harm's way on my account. "The police are on their way," she warns Ella, who slowly seems to come to her senses and looks almost confused around the parking lot. "I suggest you back off."

  Her eyes come back to Jess, before dropping them to me.

  "He never could get over you," she whispers, fat tears now running down her face, and I have a hard time not feeling a pang of compassion for the woman. Shoulders slumped; she turns around, walks to her car, and gets behind the wheel.

  She still sits there a few minutes later when emergency vehicles, sirens blaring, come rushing onto the parking lot. I'm on my ass on the pavement, my back against the rear wheel of my car, and Boulder is still barking like mad inside. Jess is crouched in front of me, using the bottom of my shirt to press against my cheekbone where apparently, Ella's diamond ring cut a gash in my skin. I don't really feel it. Not yet. I assume it's the adrenaline still coursing through my body.

  The irony doesn't escape me though.

  Her engagement ring apparently still has the power to make me bleed.

  Even almost fourteen years later.

  -

  Next comes a call from Alex, just as Jim drops me back off at the office where I'd left a poor, distraught Boulder with Jess to manage the clinic.

  Both Jim and Jess had insisted I be looked over at the hospital, despite my assurances I never lost consciousness or hit my head. He was waiting for me when the ER doctor finished setting three small stitches to close the gash on my cheek. Since the police station was virtually on our way back to the clinic, it was my suggestion to finish up the paperwork right away. Normally, I might not have pressed charges, but I'd had a little time to consider if maybe that black eye Jordan sported not long ago was a result of his mother's temper and not his brother's after all. Regardless, it seems a no-brainer that Jordan should not be left in such an easily violent environment—at the very least not unsupervised—so I filed the charge.

  "Hey," I answer my phone, "can I call you right back? I'm just getting out of my car."

  "All I want to know is if you're going to be around tomorrow night? I have a meeting with a new client in Barrie for three o'clock, and by t
he time I'm done, I really don't feel like driving the four hours back to Sudbury. And that is best-case scenario. I thought maybe I could do half, crash at yours, and head out early Thursday morning for the second half?"

  "Sure thing. I should be around. Do I count on you for dinner?"

  "Don't worry about that, I'll pick something up for us on my way through town."

  "Sounds good. See you then."

  I hang up and turn to Jim. "Thanks for the ride."

  "I can't seem to stop apologizing to you," he says, a guilty look on his face. "I swear I didn't think she—"

  Cutting him off with my hand on his arm, I shake my head. "I realize that. Now please stop wasting time apologizing to me, and focus on who's really important here—Jordan."

  I wait until he nods his assent before getting out of the cruiser.

  Inside, Boulder greets me like I've been away for months, instead of a couple of hours, and I end up sitting on the floor with him all over me. Of course the poor dog never got the chance to make sure I was all right before I was whisked off, so I get why he needs to sniff every inch of me.

  Jess peeks her head in my office. "I've rescheduled this morning's appointment for next week. You just have the visit to Serenity this afternoon, but I'm not so sure you should go with that face."

  "Meh." I wave her off. "It'll be a good story to tell the old folks."

  "Whatever you want. Oh, and I think there's a message on your phone."

  Jess had apparently taken the stuff I'd dropped in the parking lot—keys, purse, and my phone—and left them on my desk. As soon as her head disappears, I grab the phone and dial voicemail.