The House On The Creek (34 page)
Read The House On The Creek Online
Authors: Sarah Remy
“That’s what airplanes are for. Besides, I’m thinking about taking on a few local projects.”
“Okay.”
Everett looked up at the tree. “I thought maybe you and your mom would like to move in with me. There’s plenty of room, and the house gets lonely.”
From behind the crowd Chris heard the piping of the fife and drum band, a sign that the ceremony was about to begin. For once he didn’t rush to get a spot as close to the tree as possible.
“Mom would like that,” he managed after a moment, hoping his voice wasn’t as squeaky as it sounded in his own ears. “Between you and me, she thinks of that house as her baby.”
“We’ll christen the skiff as soon as it warms up, paint her name on the bow.” Everett continued. He sounded strangely gruff, but when Chris peeked up at his face he seemed engrossed in the night sky. “Until then, there are plenty of things to do. Skiing, hockey. Your mom said maybe you’d like a pair of blades. It’s been a long time since I’ve skated. We could pick up a few pointers together.”
“Cool,” Chris wiped his traitorous nose again before Everett noticed his snuffling.
“There’s that room on the second floor at the end of the hall. I thought you might like it as your own. It’s small but it’s got a great view of the front lawn and a fireplace. Plenty of room for a boy’s things.”
Chris could see the room in his mind’s eye. The view
was
pretty neat, and he’d never had a fire place of his own.
“Like the idea, then?” Everett asked as the breeze blew the merry sound of pipes over their heads.
“Yeah.” Chris thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I like the idea.”
Everett’s arm tightened until Chris thought his ribs might crack. For a moment Chris was afraid the man might say something mushy, or ruffle his hair the way his mom did when she couldn’t think of the right words.
But Everett only smiled. His smile was like a shared secret, wide and bright and full of mischief. And that smile was even better than his hug.
Abby thought they were beautiful, her two men. With their arms linked and their faces upturned, washed in the glow of the thousands of little white lights that shone on the tree.
Everett had his arm around Chris’s shoulder, and Chris didn’t seem at all inclined to move away.
As she squeezed her way toward them through the cluster of tourists and party guests, she realized with a tiny pang that her son had grown again. He was almost as tall as Everett.
She managed to beat back the crowd and throw her own arm around Chris. “Pretty fancy, huh?”
He was pretending to be bored, but she could see the flush of excitement on his face. “I don’t think there were so many lights last time.”
“You were just knee high, last time.” She looked over the top of his head at Everett, and winked. “Wait until the fireworks.”
Everett smiled a slow, lazy grin that made Abby remember the afternoon hours they’d spent in her carved antique bed. She wrinkled her nose in return, and then ruffled Chris’s hair.
“This year the fireworks are supposed to be extra loud. Better plug your ears.”
“Mom!” Chris rolled his eyes. He ducked his head from beneath her hand.
Abby laughed silently. Everett’s mouth twitched. And then the air boomed with cannon fire, and rockets flowered overhead.
“Awesome!” Chris bounced in excitement. “I bet they use real gun powder!”
Abby could barely hear her son over the bang and pop of fireworks. Flashes of red and green and blue and yellow and white tore through the sky in spirals and petals and comet shaped blasts.
But the best entertainment stood at her side.
Chris’s breath fogged in puffs as he stared up at the sky. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his jeans, and he swayed a little on his heels. Every time a rocket exploded he quivered and held his breath until the pattern formed.
On her son’s other side Everett stood motionless, attention on the heavens. His hand on Chris’s shoulder was light. Although he didn’t jump when the fireworks exploded above his head, Abby thought she saw him blink once in wonder.
“I love you, Everett Anderson,” Abby whispered into the noise and light.
She didn’t suppose he would hear, not over the boom of the show and the shrieks of the crowd. But he did. He lowered his gaze, and regarded her across Chris’s head with such tenderness that Abby had to bite her lip to keep her heart from clogging her throat.
Then, as the display reached a final flashing crescendo, he dropped his arm from Chris’s shoulders and linked his fingers firmly with her own.
About the Author
I WRITE FICTION
to keep real life from getting out of hand, I jump pretty horses over pretty fences because it's a distraction from the real and the fantastic, I do Sun Salutations between 6 am and 7 am because I believe in discipline, and I live in an old house because I believe the best things last more than 100 years.
The House On The Creek
