Considering he was the oldest, there were more pictures of him than any of his sibs. And because he’d been precocious—or so he’d been told—and an inquisitive risk-taker to boot, Ellen Sothard wasn’t running out of fodder anytime soon.
“…and you should have seen the look on Trask’s face when he found out his brother had told on him.”
For cripes sake. Trask had been fourteen years old when that incident had happened, and he still didn’t think it had been that bad.
Borrowing baby Julian’s oversized, plastic tub to see if he could paddle to one of the offshore islands had seemed like areally goodidea at the time. Until it hadn’t. Luckily, when the flimsy thing sank, he’d only been fifteen feet or so off shore, and had easily swum back to where seven-year-old Vincent, whom Trask had been charged with watching for the day, stood laughing like a loon.
The real trouble had started later that night when his mother had begun looking for the missing tub. Trask denied all knowledge of it, of course, but Vince had more than gleefully ratted him out.
Why? Because he could.
Vincent had always, from the get-go, been a ball-buster, and he continued in that capacity to this day. If there was trouble to be had, drama to be stirred, Vincent always remained at the helm of said shenanigans, while also being the number one culprit.
Trask didn’t know how Vince had survived in the Navy for so many years. If his brother had served under Trask, the consummate troublemaker would have been court-martialed ages ago.
Trask tuned back into the conversation to see if he needed to debunk anything that was coming up, but found they were still on the tub incident.
Jett was giving her opinion. “…funny, because in the short time I’ve known Trask, I’ve observed that he doesn’t lie,” she speculated to his amused mother. “He prevaricates andavoids, but from what I’ve seen, he can’t outright fib.”
She’d noticed that, huh?
“Because he learned his lesson with that tub,” Ellen chortled, taking full credit. “We grounded him for a month that summer,andput him in charge of giving Julian his baths until school convened in the fall.”
Yeah.Trask remembered that well. Being grounded had been a total bummer, and a real wake-up call. He’d lamented all the fun he’d missed out on that summer. And getting stuck at home without friends being allowed to visit had been utterly miserable. Trask had vowed then and there never to lie again.
Something he’d stuck to.
But giving Julian baths? That had turned out to be great fun, and had established a solid bond between him and Jules that remained unbreakable to this day.
He couldn’t wait for Jules to separate from the military and join Diver Downeast. Trask had been working on him via texts for several weeks, and seemed to be making some headway, so it might not be long.
“If you two are finished,” Trask finally huffed as the pair started in on a rash he’d gotten when trying to prove to friends that he wasn’t allergic to poison ivy. He threw down his napkin. “I’m sure Jett is exhausted after her long day, Mom. We need to grab some sleep so I can get her back to her plane first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Oh,” Ellen Sothard sighed heavily. “You have to leave us so soon?” she posed to Jett. “I was hoping to get to know you better.”
Yeah.Trask didn’t doubt that. His mother clearly thought that if Jett hung around, she and Trask might become an item. She was a softie where her boys’ happiness was concerned, and Trask knew she’d worried about him since he’d been home, and hoped he’d find the love of his life like half his brothers had.
But…Not happening.
“About that…” Jett began.
Trask stiffened his spine.
What the hell was the spitfire up to?
“I’ve been thinking. Since I haven’t exactly found employment yet, and my father is selling my childhood home…” She glanced at Trask with a hastily manufactured bravado before turning back to Ellen. “…my skills and my amphibious Cessna might be of use to your sons’ new business.”
While Trask gaped, Jett continued.
“All I’d need to do is find a place to live and an airfield nearby where I can tie down, then I’d be more than willing to stick around.”
Guy Sothard cleared his throat.
Oh, no he wasn’t…
“We’ve got plenty of spare bedrooms here at the house until you can find something that suits you better,” his father offered.
And was he…?
