“That depends.”
A bit of silence fell, and Gabe waited, letting Jasper think.
“On how many, and whether Ellis wants to come down there with me. I don’t want him to. Don’t want him to mix with the kind of guys he knew in prison, but he’s his own man and gets to decide, so we’ll see. As to your head—” Jasper paused, and Gabe thought he could hear Ellis’ voice in the background. “Sure, keep it on straight, but that doesn’t mean you can’t let your heart have a voice in all of this. You’re only human, you know.”
“I am, I guess.”
“You can only do your best, right?” On the other end of the line, Jasper yawned, and Gabe distinctly heard Ellis sayC’mon, Jasper, it’s time for bed. “Get some rest and just take it as it comes. I’m here if you need to talk.”
“Goodnight, then,” said Gabe, and he hung up when Jasper did.
He was lucky to have a friend like Jasper, who’d come the army, same as him, and who had a level head on his shoulders. And he knew Jasper was right. He could only do his best.
But that advice, even as he walked back to the tent, turned off the lantern and crawled into his cot, wasn’t enough to keep him from thinking about Blaze.
Chapter8
Blaze
“Didn’t you hear it?” asked Tom. “It’s the breakfast bell.”
His eyes opening wide, Blaze sat up with a gasp, reaching for his jeans, which he remembered tossing at to the end of his cot. There was a chill in the air, a sense of dampness. Outside of the tent, beyond the tied back tent flap, he could see a mist weaving among the tree branches. Above, somewhere, a bird was singing.
All of which seemed to be doing its very best to break through his sense of panic.
In prison, if you missed breakfast, the hours until lunchtime would stretch out so long you felt like you were going through hell. Not that the food was any good, but it was something, and at least in the cafeteria, with each man concentrating on his food, nothing bad usually happened.
Sure, fights sometimes broke out when one guy figured that another guy had already had his share of chocolate pudding, but Blaze always made sure to stay out of the way, in case a chest-shoving argument turned into one where secret shivs were pulled out and used with great energy.
He scrambled into his clothes, half-lacing his boots, scrubbing his eyes as he followed Tom along the grass-trampled path that was beginning to seem more familiar. And already he could smell something frying, fresh-brewed coffee and, along with Tom, followed his nose to the mess tent.
As he sat down at the table near the front, to be waited on by Del, he wondered why he’d ever balked at the idea of doing his parole at a place like this. Maybe the bad thing was still headed his way, but with the sun shining brightly, turning the air outside the mess tent to gold, he didn’t think it would happen today.
Besides which, Gabe came and sat down directly across from him, bringing up memories of the night before, Gabe’s smile as he built the little bonfire, his obvious pleasure as he gestured to his men that they should sit and relax.
And now, there seemed a little space around the two of them, where they weren’t team lead and parolee. They were just two guys who happened to be working a summer job together, one of whom smelled amazing and looked freshly shaved and the other who had hair hanging in his eyes and wasn’t quite awake yet. Blaze scraped his hair out of his eyes and looked up at Del as he poured him a cup of coffee.
“Uh, thanks,” said Blaze.
“Don’t get used to it, sonny,” said Del in a jocular way. “And by that, I mean, by next week, we’ll have a coffee urn for you to use.”
“Okay.” Blaze took a sip of the coffee, which was so good it made him sit up and take another sip.
“No cream or sugar?” asked Gabe. He was doctoring up his coffee until it was the color of coffee-flavored ice cream.
“No?” The response became a question, because in Blaze’s world, the last two years of it, anyway, if the boss man decided that you should like your coffee sweet and soft, then that’s how you would have it.
“Probably better for you that way,” said Gabe. He took a sip of his coffee and sighed, leaning forward, his hands cupped around the white china mug. “But I have a sweet tooth.”
“Oh.” Blaze didn’t know what to say to that. In prison, the less you shared about your personal life, the better. Back at the Butterworth trailer, they all already knew each other’s secrets. But in the valley, what was the protocol?
Blaze was saved from having to think too much about this as Del brought out a platter of pancakes, and he could watch Gabe soaking his stack of three pancakes with enough butter and syrup to turn them to mush. Watching Gabe dig into his food was its own secret pleasure and, as his lips glistened as he chewed, he did not seem at all secretive or embarrassed. Or that he minded that Blaze was staring at his mouth—
Blaze looked away, at his breakfast, at the pile of pancakes and the three links of nicely fried sausage that were all his, and that didn’t have any mold on them either.
He stole another glance or two or three at Gabe while he ate, but pretended he was more interested in who got one of the sausages that Wayne said he didn’t want. In the fact that the butter dish held real butter, and that the offer of freshly brewed coffee was endless.
After breakfast, contented and full, Gabe led the way in bussing their table, and then took them to the supply hut for gloves and safety helmets and vests. Then they went out beyond where the fire pit was to an open space beneath the trees and just about right next to the river.
