True North (The Bears of Blackrock Book 4)

by Michaela Wright

  It was old news to Sinead, but needless to say, Frances was on a tear and had cooked Sinead’s favorite – Turkey Lasagna – three times that week.

  Little did Frances know, bears tend to eat – a lot. Theron had no complaints about her mother’s cooking spree.

  “Does it still hurt, baby?” He asked, rubbing his thumbs into the sole of her still intact foot.

  Sinead glanced down at Theron who sat perched with her feet in his lap. The bandages were still covering the surgical wounds, but the rest of her toes were bare now, warmed by his body temperature and the sunlight casting in from the sunny day outside.

  She shook her head. “It’s not so bad now - as long as my feet are up.”

  Theron nodded. “Well, good, then. I’ll just carry you everywhere and we won’t have any problems.”

  Sinead laughed and turned back to the TV, happily losing herself in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves for the afternoon.

  Her crutches stood leaning against the doorjamb of the kitchen. Sinead still hadn’t used them to venture outside. Despite being locked away for two years, the last thing Sinead wanted to do was leave the quiet solace of her parents’ house.

  There was a soft humming from the kitchen as Theron suddenly shifted on the couch. She glanced in time to see him pull his phone from his pocket.

  Sinead fought to keep her attention on the television.

  Locksley! I’m going to cut your heart out with a spoon!

  “Yeah, I have a minute. What’s up?” He said, slipping from beneath her feet.

  This had gone on for the week since they left Labrador. Theron took calls from Darrell, Charlie Black, the Labrador Police, the Blackrock Police, his mother – everyone who might have information or need information about the Extension and those who’d been on it.

  And died on it.

  Sinead couldn’t tell who this call was from, yet.

  The Holdens were released and returned to their home on the reserve, and the mounted police were still in process of questioning everyone involved. Two of the men who ran from the Extension gate that night were found, but one was still unaccounted for. Officers Reed and Miller were both being charged for their involvement. Sinead had given her statement there in the clinic in Black Tickle. She’d received a few phone calls since arriving home – clarifications needed by various police officials, but for the most part, the storm was passing.

  The Holdens were home on their reserve, and the news was plastering pictures of Baird Davenport on screens across Canada, calling him a madman. It seemed all was as right with the world as it could be.

  Then why do I still feel so lost? She thought.

  “Sure, man. Yeah, I can do that. I’ll talk to Shinny, see if she’d be up for it.”

  Up for what? Oh man, if it doesn’t involve sitting on this couch eating waffles, I don’t want to do it. Ever.

  “Of course, I will. Hey, Charlie. Do you even have to ask?”

  There was a long pause, then a subtle murmur of a voice on the other end. A moment later, Theron was hanging up the phone.

  Sinead turned toward him, waiting for an explanation.

  He took a deep breath. “Apparently, Blackrock PD want a statement from me.”

  “Why would they want that?”

  Theron touched his hand to her injured foot and she winced, as much from sheer self-consciousness as pain. Theron shot her a concerned look, then leaned down and kissed the tip of one of her still intact toes. “They’re talking about reinstating him, but they want me to give a statement again – about what happened up north.”

  “Can you do it by phone?” She asked. She already knew the answer.

  “I’d rather not,” he said. “I was actually hoping you might come down with me. Maybe meet the family. Kinda have some shit I need to set straight down there.”

  Sinead shot a glance toward the kitchen and the subtle sound of her mother singing to herself as she cooked supper. It was probably lasagna, again. “I’m not sure my folks -”

  Sinead stopped mid-sentence, catching the expression on Theron’s face. He hadn’t left her side since that night – since she’d found him sitting at her kitchen table in the delirium of her near death experience. He was there when she drifted in and out at the clinic. He was there when she found herself crying in the arms of her parents. He was there when she couldn’t get up the stairs of her parents’ apartment building alone, and he was there each night when she woke in a cold sweat, crying out into the dark for someone to find her, his warmth cooking her under the blankets.

  She didn’t want to lose that, not even for a night. Even in the warmer world of Halifax in the Autumn, she’d rather sweat through the sheets than feel the cold of his absence.

  “You have to go?” She asked.

  His face changed, instantly. He was smiling. Her tone had given her away.

  He nodded. “I do. Do this for me, and I will go anywhere you want. Anywhere in the world, you name it, and it will be done. Even if you pick some hot as balls hell hole, I’ll go there for you, and I’ll have a smile on my face the whole time.

  Sinead smiled. “Ok, then. I’ll think of somewhere enormously unpleasant.”

  Theron patted her knee and hopped up from the couch, pulling up a number on his phone. She listened as he snuck down the hall toward the front door of the apartment. “Yeah, man. It’s all set.”

  Sinead sat there for a long moment, staring at the TV. She hadn’t watched television in two years. She hadn’t done much of anything in two years. She’d taught out of ratty old Encyclopedias and scratched out words with stones. She’d made due. Now, as she sat in the warmth of her mother’s kitchen, the luxury of having so much felt almost crass.

  She thought of Pearl Holden fretting at her bedside as she came out of surgery, or Darrell clutching his baby sister to his chest when they were finally allowed into her room at the clinic – and the way Bunny’s face lit up with tears in her eyes to see that Sinead was ok.

  Sinead touched her knuckle to her eye, fighting to still the tears that were coming.

  “You alright, honey?”

  Sinead startled, turning to find her father standing by the kitchen door. She shook her head. “Yeah,” she said, but her face contorted and she began to cry.

  “Hey, hey, now. You’re alright, chicken. You’re alright. We got you. You’re safe.”

  She shook her head again. She knew all of that – so well in fact that it kept her awake at night. Feeling safe wasn’t the problem.

  “The doctors said you might feel sad off and on. It’s apparently a symptom of a lot of people who survive hypothermia.”

  “I know. I think I’m ready for it to go away.”

  Kevin chuckled and slumped down onto the couch beside her. “I bet.”

  He ran his hand over her unruly hair. She hadn’t brushed it that morning. Her father’s beard was showing more gray than it had last she saw him, two and a half years earlier, and he was wearing his glasses all the time now. Still, he had a full head of sandy brown hair, and stern, but gentle blue eyes. She’d missed that sternness in the months of being locked on the Extension. The way a somber look from her father warned her he was about to have words with someone – that he was about to make everything better.

  She was a grown woman, but she felt like a child all over again whenever her father entered the room.

  “Is something wrong? Are you and Theron alright?” He asked.

  Sinead swallowed, startled by the question. “Yes, yes. We’re good. We’re wonderful. It’s just -”

  Kevin tucked his fingers under hers and watched her face. “What is it, honey?”

  Sinead glanced back toward the kitchen door, knowing her mother would be there. Mrs. Dalton stood just an inch shorter than Kevin Dalton, and her strawberry blonde hair was still as vibrant as Sinead remembered. She was sure that was helped by a bottle of Clairol, but that mattered little. Her mother looked just as beautiful as she had in her hallucinations. Sinead remembered the gentle,
maternal way that her mother stood by, teaching her to cook, to write in cursive, to crack an egg.

  Sinead gave her mother a sad smile. “Mom, Dad? You’re not going to like this, but I have to tell you something.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THERON

  Karen stood in the kitchen, fuming. “It’s the only place we can offer you, right now. You’ll be safe there.”

  “I’m not going to fucking Canada!” Theron yelled, appalled at the mere notion of having to leave home again. He’d lived in Boston for years, driving home the five or six hours every weekend so he could shift and hunt – be free.

  “I’ve already called my Uncle Bill. I left a message that you were coming. He’ll let mom know,” Karen said, her voice wavering with anger. “You should be grateful! After what you did -”

  “What right do you have to scold me? It’s not like you were here to teach me any better. You fucking left!”

  Those were the words Theron had been waiting to say – for years. And they were among the last words he said to his mother before leaving for Labrador, the Extension, and weeks of fearing he’d never have the chance to make it right.

  He’d kept those words to himself for so long, watching Maggie suffer, grieving their sister, Candyce, with his father, all while his mother remained absent. Yet, there she was in his father’s kitchen, pacing back and forth as she ripped him a new asshole for being careless, and he let her have it.

  “Don’t speak to your mother like that,” Maynard had said, rising from the table.

  “Maybe, if you were around, Candyce wouldn’t be dead. Did you ever think of that?”

  Theron cringed, remembering the words that turned his mother’s angry expression to grief. A moment later, she’d stormed out of the house in tears. Though Theron knew every word he said was true, he still hated himself now for saying them.

  Theron sat in the passenger seat of John Fenn’s truck. John sat silent, waiting for Theron to move. He’d been sitting there for a good ten minutes now.

  “Sorry,” Theron said, finally.

  John shrugged, patting Theron’s knee. “Don’t even worry about it, pal. You do what you gotta do.”

  Yes, Theron, he thought. Do what you have to do.

  Theron was fresh from the police station, relaying yet again the events of that night outside Kilikut.

  Baird went for the gun. Officer Black shot him before he could go after anyone else.

  They bounced various questions –

  Had he been personally threatened by Baird Davenport?

  Did he see the shot fired?

  Was there any reason why the other officers were claiming an Indian woman – Pearl Holden - did the shooting?

  Theron just shook his head. “I don’t know. I suppose maybe they think making us sound dangerous might make them look better? They could’ve picked a better person to try to pin it on. I mean, she is like seventy something. Eighty something. I’m just saying.”

  The officers nodded, took notes, then just before letting Theron be on his way, they asked one more follow up.

  “So, how did you do it? That prank down at Parkhurst?”

  Theron snorted, softly. “If I told people that, you’d have people calling in about Polar Bears all over the state.”

  The officers chuckled and teased Charlie as Theron made his way out of the station. Charlie shot him a surprised, grateful look before he was dragged back in to be questioned himself.

  Now, Theron was sitting in John’s truck staring at his parent’s house. Theron took a deep breath. He’d spent part of his afternoon in a police station and yet, the thought of seeing his mother was far more terrifying.

  “So, you want me to bring Shinball over in a half hour?”

  Theron nodded. “Yeah, that should be good.” He stopped, laughing softly to himself. “Shinball?”

  John shrugged. “Yeah. I was thinking Shinsplints might be good, too.”

  Theron shook his head and climbed out of the truck. He gave the hood a pat. “Alright, I’ll see you in a few. Thank you, John. Again.”

  John rolled his eyes as he threw the truck in reverse. “Of course, nerd. We’ll keep her company til then.”

  Theron watched John’s truck disappear down the road. Sinead was settled into John’s living room couch, her feet up on a pillow as Janice and Catherine Fenn fretted and fussed over their peg-legged guest.

  She’d be fine. He had no excuse not to go inside. Theron took a deep breath and slowly made his way up to the front door.

  His hand had no sooner hit the knob than the door swung open, blowing his hair up around his shoulders from the force of its wake. Karen Talbot stood there in the open doorway, her eyes red and puffy, her brow heavy. Theron saw the pain on his mother’s face and felt his throat grow tight.

  “Mom. I’m so -”

  She snatched hold of the lapel of his coat and yanked him into her arms. Theron stiffened for an instant, feeling his mother’s embrace – an embrace he’d learned to live without as a young man – and suddenly he felt like a twelve year old boy again.

  “I’m sorry for what I said, Mom.”

  Karen’s face was buried into the crook of his neck, her hair in his face, smelling of incense smoke and coconut shampoo. “You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all.”

  Theron let his arms tighten around her middle and felt the long forgotten sway of her hug, rocking him from side to side as she settled into the embrace for the long haul. She wouldn’t be letting go anytime soon.

  “I heard from Grandma Pearl what they did to you. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I was sending you into danger. I didn’t know.”

  “Mom, I know that!”

  “I should’ve stood by you. I should’ve been there for you. I’m so sorry.”

  Theron’s breath caught in his throat. He could hear the apology for their argument just a few weeks earlier, but carried on its shoulders was so much more. There was air clearing around them, air that had been heavy and clouded since he was twelve years old.

  “Tell me you’re alright. Tell me they didn’t hurt you too bad,” Karen said, finally pulling away to look up into Theron’s eyes.

  He felt small in her gaze. “I’m ok, Mom. I wasn’t there long.”

  “They said that bastard shot at you.”

  “He did, but he’s gone now.”

  Karen turned back toward Maynard who Theron realized was hovering just a few feet behind his mother. Theron had to look away from his father. The sight of the older man’s concerned expression shot through Theron like glass shards. His mother had been gone much of his youth, but this man – this man with this same concerned expression had been there every minute of it all. There to scold him for getting in trouble with the cops, there to sit with him when a girl at school broke his heart, there to teach him to drive, to hunt, to be a man.

  Theron felt his eyes welling up and turned away from their worried faces.

  Maynard clapped his worn hands, softly. “Come in, son. I cooked you something. And where is this girl? I was told there would be a girl.”

  Theron made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, quickly coughing to cover it up. “Yeah, she’ll be here soon.”

  Theron’s parents sat him down at their kitchen table and let him chit chat. Not about the Extension. Not about seeing Karen’s formerly estranged mother shoot a man point blank in the chest. Not about his nightmares and his worries. None of that.

  He was grateful. Words couldn’t express how grateful he was.

  After a twenty minute run down of all the drama, or lack thereof, going on in and around Blackrock, there was a heavy knock at the door. Theron hopped up from his seat to greet their visitor, excited for his parents to meet Sinead.

  “Hey, cuz.”

  Theron’s mouth fell open as Darrell hefted his duffle bag up over his shoulder.

  “Darrell!? Oh my goodness, look at you!”

  Karen Talbot surged past Theron to embrace her nephew, pulli
ng him down to her level to ‘get a good look at him.’

  Theron glanced back at his father for explanation, but Maynard just turned for the kitchen to refill his coffee mug.

  “Come in, sweetheart. Come in. We’ll get you set up in Maggie’s room. I can have her come by and clear out the closet if you need it.”

  “No, no, Aunt Karen. I’d be fine with the couch. Don’t even worry about it.”

  “Dude, what is going on?” Theron asked, shooting a look from each face to the next.

  Karen turned to Theron with a look of disappointment. Clearly, Theron’s feigned chagrin for his cousin didn’t please her. “Your cousin Darrell is going to stay with us while he takes classes up at the University.”

  Theron glared at Darrell as a smile crept across his face. “No shit.”

  Karen was pouring Darrell an unrequested cup of coffee a second later, slumping down in a chair across from him to complain about how skinny he looked.

  No shit he looks skinny, Mom. He’s been in an internment camp for two years.

  Theron didn’t say these thoughts out loud as the front door rattled again with Sinead’s arrival.

  The Talbot kitchen and living room grew loud with a sense of celebration and welcome. Karen found Sinead simply wonderful, as she repeated many times, and she fawned over Darrell off and on as Maynard demanded Sinead let him set her up in his favorite recliner. She accepted the kindness, looking rather silly as Maynard stuffed a couple extra pillows under her injured leg. Theron didn’t bother stepping in to save either of them. He’d so rarely seen his parents like this, part of him wanted to sit back and enjoy the show. Who knew when they’d be this elated by his presence again?

  When he had kids, probably.

  Theron shot Sinead a sideways look at this thought.

  The mere notion had warmed him from head to toe. He wondered if his children would get her light eyes or red hair.

  Chances were no, but still.

  Jesus, Ther, you’ve known her less than a month. Calm the fuck down.