Ms Demeanor. Danica Winters

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       Chapter Three

      The house was a flurry of motion. Gwen and Eloise were rushing around the kitchen, pulling together a meal reminiscent of the epicurean lifestyle of ancient Greece. Every countertop was filled to the edge with food. There was everything from cold cuts and cheese to spritz cookies and rosettes. His mouth watered. The food was a far cry from what had been ladled onto his tray in prison and the little packs of chips he bought at the commissary. Dang, it was good to be home.

      His mother handed him a plate full of food, and another to Laura, as though she was just one of the gang and not someone with the ability to put him back in prison. He couldn’t decide whether it was a part of his mother’s plan that she overwhelm Laura with kindness in hopes it would keep him out of trouble, or if it was just his mother’s way. Regardless, he loved her for it.

      His adoptive father, Merle, walked into the kitchen while thumbing through a stack of mail. In all the excitement his mother must have forgotten to tell him that Rainier was home. When he finally looked up from the letters in his hands, a wave of recognition and pure joy overtook his face.

      “Son, what are you doing here? I thought you didn’t get out for another couple of days?” His father gave a questioning glance to his mother.

      “Oh, dear, I’m sorry. I meant to come get you. I just wanted to make sure that Rainier and Laura were taken care of. I’m so sorry,” she said, throwing her hands over her mouth. “I can’t believe...”

      “It’s okay, Mother,” Merle said, giving her a quick peck on the forehead before turning to Rainier. “How long have you been home?”

      He shrugged. With all the activity and questions his mother had been throwing his way, he wasn’t sure if he’d been home five minutes or five hours. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, as if the world revolved around him. He both despised and loved it, but it was almost too much.

      Even though he’d said nothing, his father seemed to understand and gave an acknowledging tip of his head.

      “We haven’t touched your room, Rainier. It’s waiting for you if you’re tired. This week we can go get you some new clothes,” his mother said, coming over and pinching the pink Hawaiian shirt between her fingers and pulling it as if she wished she could throw it away then and there. “And we can get you anything else you need to get on your feet, as well. Waylon, Christina and Winnie will be coming home later this week.” She grinned with excitement. “It’s just going to be so wonderful to have the entire family here to spend Christmas. And Laura, you’ll have to come, too.”

      Laura gaped as she glanced from his mother to him, almost as though she was checking him to see what exactly her reaction should be to that unusual invitation. “I...er...”

      “You are more than welcome, Laura,” his father said, jumping in. “You don’t have to answer us right away. I’m sure you’ve got your own family plans.”

      She looked a bit relieved, and it made Rainier’s chest tighten as some part of him wished she had agreed to spend more time with him and his family. He took a deep breath as he tried to make sense of his body’s reaction. He barely knew this woman, and their conversation had been limited mostly to business. Yet he couldn’t deny there was something, a spark, between them. It was so strong he could have sworn he felt it in his fingertips.

      Maybe it was just that she was the only person who had any real understanding of what his life had been like behind bars. She was his ally, and seemed to be the only one who could understand why he had changed.

      “I... Y-you...” he stammered, trying to say something that would be as effectual as his father, but no words came.

      Merle smiled. “Rainier and I are gonna head outside. I need to get to work on that broken spigot before the pump burns out.” His father handed him a coat, and he shrugged it on.

      He couldn’t have been more relieved and thankful for his father’s interference not just with the jacket, but with helping him to get out of the swirl of activity that made him feel so out of place.

      Laura’s face relaxed as she glanced over to him and gave an approving nod.

      “If he’s going to be home, you know we’re gonna be putting him to work,” the older man continued.

      She gave a light laugh. “That’s exactly what I was hoping for, Mr. Fitzgerald. If you don’t mind, while you all are working, I’ll take a quick look around, a brief home check.”

      “That’s fine, but please call me Merle.” His father frowned at the formal moniker.

      “Thank you, Merle,” Laura said.

      “That’s better,” his father said. “Only Mother calls me Mr. Fitzgerald, and she only does that when I’m in deep trouble.” He turned to Rainier. “Let’s get going. We’re burning daylight.”

      He followed his dad outside, and the moment the door opened and he breathed in the cold winter air, Rainier was thankful to be out of the kitchen. He loved his mother and the rest of his extended family, but he needed a minute just to be with himself in the quiet of life—an existence that wasn’t framed by steel bars.

      His father led him out to the tractor and, handing him the keys, motioned for him to take a seat. “Sometimes the best thing we can do when our world is a mess is bury ourselves in work in order to clear our minds. There are no prisons worse than the ones we impose upon ourselves.”

      The man was right. No matter how bad the nights had been when he’d been inside, the worst of them all had come when Rainier had thought about what he’d cost his family. There were so many things he wanted to say, but one in particular came to the front of his mind. “Thanks for everything, Dad.”

      It didn’t seem like nearly enough, but emotions and expressing them had never been his strong suit. It was just so much easier to bottle everything up—although that was exactly the kind of attitude that had gotten him into trouble in the first place.

      “Which spigot needs tending?” he asked, afraid of things taking another emotional turn. He’d had more than he could handle for one day.

      His father’s stoicism thankfully returned, his face taking on the smooth and patient coolness that Rainier had always loved about the man. Since he’d left, however, his father’s face had seemed to age. In fact, he noticed a new darkness in his eyes and it made a deep sadness move through him. Undoubtedly, he had played a role in those changes, and there was no going back or making things right. There was only moving forward.

      “It’s the one in the pasture. If you want to start digging, I’ll grab the piping,” Merle father said.

      His father tracked through the snow toward the back of the house. Climbing up onto the tractor, Rainier could see a dark patch of grass and soot where the toolshed had once stood.

      The tractor СКАЧАТЬ