Playing hide and seek and using the closet as cover.
Waiting at the counter in the kitchen while a fresh apple pie cooled.
“Hey, Gus. You’re back.”
Sunday appeared from the living room and smiled. “Ford’s not here. He had to run back to the city for a couple of days. Some emergencies at the office.”
“I was hoping to see your father.” The words tasted like sawdust, and he couldn’t quite meet her gaze. “He’s expecting me.”
“Dad’s sitting on the lower deck. It’s sunny and warm there. Pretty much his favorite spot.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“Walk through the kitchen. It’s easier than going around the house and don’t worry about your shoes.” She gave a wave. “I’m headed to town.”
He watched until she disappeared. She moved like a dancer, he thought.
Once outside, Gus crossed the deck and took the stairs that led down. Porter wasn’t on the lower deck, so he continued ontothe stone path and spied the elderly man sitting on the dock, his wheelchair perilously close to the edge. As he approached him, Porter turned to the side.
“I’ve lived here my whole life and still marvel at the sight of this lake and the forests that surround it. Makes a man feel small.”
Gus walked over to him and stood at his side. “I imagine it doesn’t look much different than it did hundreds of years ago.”
“You might be right. Man has a habit of destroying the things that he loves, and luckily this piece of the world has been spared that fate. It will need a strong united front to keep the wolves at bay; our family has always had to fight to keep this lake pristine. To keep development from touching its shores.”
“You’ve done a good job of it.”
“We own most of the land surrounding the lake and a good portion more. The few cottages we’ve allowed are leased to folks who live in town. We take care of our own that way. We share what we have with those who deserve.”
It was a strange conversation, and Gus was trying to decide the best way to bring up what it was he’d come for when his father caught him unawares.
“Ford will need you, August. There’s a fight coming for this family.”
Everything in him stilled at those words and when Porter wheeled around to face Gus, he was shocked to see the gray pallor on his skin. The yellow in the whites of his eyes. The man was more than sick. He was near the end.
“You have his eyes,” Porter said softly, his own filling with tears. “I knew the moment we met exactly who you were.”
There it was — confirmation of sorts.
“I . . .” Fuck if he could clear the lump from his throat. He looked away and took a moment before turning back. “Do you think Marshall is my father?”
Porter’s gaze fell to the blanket across his lap. He smoothed it out and. “You remind me so much of him. The way you walk and carry yourself. The sound of your voice. It’s like looking at a ghost. A memory of a man I loved more than any other.” Porter met Gus’s eyes with an unwavering look. His voice was strong, so there was no mistaking his meaning. “The simple answer is that I don’t know. We both loved your mother, and she loved us back.” His father exhaled a shaky breath. “What Idoknow is that you’re a Boone, and that’s all that matters.”
Gus let that settle. He put his emotions in a box and locked it up for good. “I wasn’t sure why I came here all those weeks ago,” he admitted with a shrug. “For the longest time Fire Lake was nothing but a pin on a map. A place that didn’t matter all that much.”
“Did you find the answers you were looking for?”
He considered this and then nodded. “For the most part.”
“Misha?”
He nodded. “Mom filled me in on the rest.”
“Your mother and I have a complicated history. But there was love; I want you to know that.” Porter’s shoulders straightened. “At one time, anyway. You’ve grown into a fine man. I’m ashamed not to have been a part of it.” His voice was barely a whisper. “For that, I’m sorry.”
“What did you tell Ford and Sunday? That day after we left.”
Porter’s hands shook, and he fiddled with the edge of the blanket that sat across his lap. He kept his gaze on the water. “I told them that their mother had left and wasn’t coming back. That she’d taken the other children to start a new life without us. I was bitter and angry and hurt, and I wasn’t strong enough to deal with it like a man, so I made her the villain in our story. But being that dark does things to a person. I took it out on everyone including myself and this was not a happy house.” The air rattledin his chest when he exhaled. “I’m sorry now, of course. For all of it. But those are hollow words, and I don’t expect forgiveness.”
