“What do youthinkyou should do?” asked Gabe, now.
Marston had no idea, so he shook his head and took a long swallow of the black coffee. “I have no idea.”
Off to Marston’s left, beyond the dense trees, Kell was still asleep in Marston’s tent. Or maybe he was waking up with a sleepy yawn as he scraped his dark hair out of his eyes. Wondering where Marston was. Thinking about a shower. Breakfast. The day’s work.
“You do your best,” said Gabe, not seeming at all irritated that he had to answer for Marston. “Do the work you signed on for. Be a decent human being. That’s who you are anyway, so that’s what you’re going to do. But most important, follow your heart.”
“My heart?” Marston straightened, not sure if he was hearing right. Was he being given permission? Could he and Kell stay together?
Gabe gave a low laugh as he shook his head, downed a swallow of coffee, then cupped his hands around his mug.
“Giving you responsibility for him was the smartest thing, I think,” said Gabe. Then he looked at Marston and smiled. “He lights up when he’s with you. And you light up like the moon just thinking about him. Like you are now.”
“Really?” Shock rippled through Marston’s body.
“I think you’re good for each other, in spite of you being all hangdog about it,” said Gabe. “At this point, you’re just fighting your own happiness. Quit fighting it or by golly, Iwillfire you.”
“I want to apologize for causing such a ruckus,” Marston said, remembering his promise to himself. “Driving off last night, making you guys feel you had to come rescue me.” For that’s what it had been, a rescue, pure and simple.
“It was a fun outing, and the guys had a good time,” said Gabe. “But next time, give me a little warning, because there wasn’t enough Outlaw Pale to go around, and I had to drink your shitty bodega beer.”
With a gusty sigh, Gabe hauled himself to his feet and, carrying his now-empty mug, marched up the wooden steps so he could be first in line at the breakfast buffet. Everybody else came tromping through the woods in various stages of wakefulness.
Lastly, but most definitely not leastly, came Kell, tucking in his shirttails as he walked, his head on a swivel as he came closer, because he was looking for someone. Someone who was, to Marston’s delight, himself.
“There you are.” Kell moved into a trot, hurrying over to Marston as if it had been days, maybe even weeks, months, since they’d last seen each other. Being wise, for all his young years, he didn’t fling himself at Marston and demand hugs and kisses in front of everybody, though Marston could see in those green eyes that he wanted to. Rather, he grabbed Marston’s hand and hauled him to his feet, mug and all.
“Did you get your talking to?” asked Kell as he hurried Marston up the wooden steps and got into line behind him.
“I did,” said Marston low, over his shoulder. “And I apologized, too.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” said Duane’s voice ahead of him in line. “Just bring more beer next time, will ya?”
Marston’s shoulders wanted to curl forward, as if anticipating the accusation that he’d screwed up all over again. But then general shouts rang out. This one wanted Coors, another one wanted pale ale, someone else, Gordy, perhaps, wanted Stella and nothing but Stella.
General good nature accompanied these requests, as if the only irritation was that Marston had not suggested sooner the kind of outing they shared the night before. And with more variety. Snacks, also, please. Pretzels and chips and dip, maybe even a charcuterie board. This last, of course, was a suggestion from Royce.
A bit dazzled, Marston kept his head down as he took what he wanted from the buffet. As he carried to the table his heaping pile of pancakes and covered pitcher of maple syrup, most assuredly real and not fake, he tried to imagine the day when he might complain about being surrounded on all sides by ex-cons grabbing for the butter, and team leads trying to set better examples by waiting their turn, the whole of it like a rowdy class out of control because the substitute wasn’t paying attention.
Today wasn’t that day. Tomorrow, and a whole host of tomorrows, didn’t look good either. And that was just fine by him. New but fine. He could get used to this.
“We need to get some volunteers to dig holes for those sign posts,” said Marston, doing his best to focus on work and not the shining green eyes gazing at him with a bit more than a little adoration.
What a head-turning, heady feeling it was. Strange and new and yet, at the same time, soothing. Bolstering. It made him hungrier than he could remember. More alive. More aware of everything around him, from the hustle to grab the last bit of bacon from the platter one of the cooks brought to their table, to the general consensus that Royce should let them know when the next meteor shower was going to be, and could he make sure that there were enough blankets and reclining lawn chairs for everybody?
Royce seemed agreeable, which was when Marston asked again for volunteers, and, to his surprise, got three: Duane, Tyson, and Wayne.
That made five to do that task, which would make it quicker than if it had just been him and Kell doing it. Filling the holes with cement and placing the sign posts would be hard work too, but nothing like actually digging the holes.
It was like having a group of friends all around him, which also was new. Gabe had been right from the first. The valley was magic and now that magic was pouring all over Marston, soaking into his soul, lighting him up, bringing him to life.
“You ready?” he asked Kell, standing up with his tray in his hands. “Let me wash this syrup off my hands, and we can head out.”
They headed out, grabbing gloves and shovels from the supply shed, and then the two posthole diggers from the pavilion. Marston felt buoyed up by the fact that, at least for the day, he had a whole team to work with, and yes, they worked hard, but he made sure they took breaks, and followed good safety habits and, basically, they acted like a regular work crew, and not a bunch of ex-cons trying to skate by on as little effort as possible.
It was when they returned to the pavilion so they could set aside their tools and wash up before lunch that Kell paused to grab his cell phone and stood to one side to make a call. Which was to Bede, Marston guessed, so he couldn’t begrudge Kell that, since Bede had kept Kell safe while in prison.
Afterward, Kell came up to him, watching as Duane, Tyson, and Wayne sauntered off into the woods, headed for the mess tent and, for the first time that day, they had a private moment to themselves.
