A shadow fell across Ford’s face, and he looked away, out over the lake.
“That a SEAL tattoo?”
The frail voice caught his attention, and Gus turned from his brother, body strung as tight as a rattler about to strike.
He met brilliant blue eyes so familiar it hurt to look at them. Both of his parents had blue eyes; his mother’s a darker shade of navy while his father’s were Caribbean bright. Ford, Sunday, and Oliver’s were just like Porter Boone’s, though Gus, his sister Iris, and his brother Harrison all had varying shades of brown.
“It is.”
“It’s quite an accomplishment from what I gather. To make it as a SEAL.”
“It’s not for the weak.”
The older man slowly shook his head. “No, I suppose it’s not.” He tugged at the blanket across his lap, and Gus noticed several bruises along the inside of his arm. “I apologize not being here to meet you when you arrived. I’m Porter Boone.”
“You’re sick.” There was no point in beating around the bush about things. Gus was of the mind that being direct cut out the kind of bullshit that wasted time.
“Cancer.”
The proper thing would be to offer some sort of condolence, a sincere apology for being sick. But Gus wasn’t feeling the warm fuzzies for the man responsible for splitting up a family and tossing half of it away like garbage. His teeth clamped together so tight that his jaw ached, and he had to work at it to calm the hell down.
“What condition are the cottages in?” Ford asked.
This was fucking weird. A part of him was pissed that neither of the men knew who he was, while the other half was relieved. He took a beat and then turned to his brother.
“The bones are good. But they’re all going to need new roofing, and windows and decking. Three of them need the floors completely redone, while the other four can be saved. The plumbing will need to be looked at, and the wiring needs to be redone and brought up to code. With new appliances and furniture, you’re looking at a significant investment.”
“That’s what I figured.” He nodded. “Get me a quote and we’ll go from there.” He reached for his son. “Come on buddy. Time to go. Misha is expecting us.”
Misha.She was still alive. Thankful for the aviators covering his eyes, Gus kept his cool. The woman had been a huge part of his childhood, and damn, he’d missed her.
“Will she have her special sugar cookies?”
“I bet she will.”
“Okay. But you promised me a boat ride.”
“We’ll fit it in.” Ford glanced toward his father. “You want me to get you squared away?”
“I’m good.” Porter nodded at Gus. “I’m sure Gus won’t mind helping me inside.”
“See ya later, Papa,” Benjamin squealed before tearing down the stairs like a tornado.
Ford cracked a smile and shrugged. “Like he needs more sugar cookies.” Then, he disappeared after his son.
Silence fell between the two men, and Gus kept his gaze on the lake. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was he was feeling, but he knew it wasn’t what he thought it would be. It wasn’t familiar.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Gus nodded. Kept his gaze averted.
“I’ve lived here all my life and that view still amazes me.” Porter Boone seemed to be lost in thought. He ran gnarled fingers through his thick head of silver hair, and Gus noticed the tremor.
“Funny the things we don’t appreciate when we’re young. They’re the things we want the most near the end.” Porter sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, I tend to ramble on these days. Staring down the barrel at the end of things makes a man less inclined to keep things to himself. I apologize. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m good,” Gus replied lightly. “Do you need a hand or . . .”
Porter glanced up then, his blue eyes as sharp and clear as the memories in Gus’s mind. He opened his mouth and wasabout to say something when a woman appeared, from nowhere, it seemed.
