Mike
laughs so hard his eyes scrunch up around the outside and look like little
squinty slits.
Alison has a sudden wave of nausea. “Oh.”
Bella asks, “Hobbs, where’s the head?”
“Through the kitchen.”
Alison makes a dash for the kitchen and disappears into the
other room.
Dan says to Hank, “Maybe you should’ve left her at the spa.”
Hank defends, “Hey, she’s a trooper. She came along and it—”
The front door bursts open! Violent winds and sheeting rain
blast into the room along with the four Burne brothers. Around the dinner
table, mouths drop open and eyes widen. Gravel slams the door behind them. Even
with their oversized trench coats, they are drenched. Gravel’s stringy hair
clings to the sides of his cheeks. Kent’s baseball cap sits sopping and tilted
forward on his forehead. Their handguns are out of sight tucked into the back
of their belts and in their coat pockets. Ben is holding the carburetor from
the outboard motor. As the door slams, thunder claps loudly, and Julie jumps.
Ben takes a quick measure of the dumbstruck group and begins genially.
“Gee, folks, so sorry we startled you. Our engine gave out
and we were lucky to find you in this storm. A guy could drown standing
straight up out there.”
Hobbs ask, “You fishermen?”
Ben answers, “Yes, sir. Blue Marlin, Mako. My brother here
(indicating Kent) held a record on a Giant Tuna for a while.” Ben is calm,
smooth, and believable to the core.
Dan looks interested, “That so?” Kent nods as the room
relaxes. Theo crosses to the dinner table.
“Fishermen always welcome here,” Hobbs says.
“Gee, thanks.” Ben smiles. His blue eyes sparkle kindly and
his grin is broad and sweet. “We’re much obliged.”
Theo has trudged over to the table where he sticks his
fingers into the stew pot, takes out a large chunk of meat, and puts it in his
mouth. Ben notices the disgusted looks and he adds, “Ah, sorry, about my
brother, Theo, he skipped lunch and he’s well…” affectionate emotion rises up
in his voice, “he’s special.”
“He can’t talk,” Kent explains.
Hank experiences a rising alarm. Even with Ben’s calming
words, the guys just don’t look like fisherman. A clutching feeling in the back
of his neck travels down his spine. He will wait just a minute for Alison and
scoot them back to the cabin.
“You fellas should dry out by the fire.” Mike says.
“We’re only staying a moment. Carburetor’s dirty I guess.”
He puts the melon-sized carburetor on the floor of the lodge. “If I could just
get a good toolbox so I can get into it and clean it out.”
Off the kitchen, inside the tiny bathroom, between the noise
of the pounding rain and intermittent thunder, Alison is throwing up. She hears
nothing from the other room. With her head over the toilet, she rests her chin
on her fist and wishes she could get it together. Why is her body sabotaging
her this way? Where is her reliable sangfroid? This whole adventure is becoming
one long embarrassment.
* * *
Chapter Eleven
In the main room, Ben is savvy enough and manipulative
enough to make almost everyone comfortable, but this is not the case with the
other Burne boys; even on their best behavior, their true selves seep out like
pus. The air in the room is unstable with growing unease. Hank taps Jimmy’s
hand and says, “Let’s go back to the cabin and finish unpacking.”
“Okay, one sec.” Jimmy lays out a napkin and reaches to put
some brown bread in it to take back to his mom.
Kent turns to Dan and Mike and brags, “I caught a storm like
this once off the coast of Guava.”
“Guava is a fucking fruit,” Gravel tells him derisively. The
language is oddly harsh and suspicion crawls around the table. For Hank, dread
settles like a fist in his throat. Gravel looks to Jimmy and says, “Uh, excuse
my French there, kiddo.” Hank slides to the edge of his seat as tension rises
in his body. He doesn’t want to spark anything but he
laughs so hard his eyes scrunch up around the outside and look like little
squinty slits.
Alison has a sudden wave of nausea. “Oh.”
Bella asks, “Hobbs, where’s the head?”
“Through the kitchen.”
Alison makes a dash for the kitchen and disappears into the
other room.
Dan says to Hank, “Maybe you should’ve left her at the spa.”
Hank defends, “Hey, she’s a trooper. She came along and it—”
The front door bursts open! Violent winds and sheeting rain
blast into the room along with the four Burne brothers. Around the dinner
table, mouths drop open and eyes widen. Gravel slams the door behind them. Even
with their oversized trench coats, they are drenched. Gravel’s stringy hair
clings to the sides of his cheeks. Kent’s baseball cap sits sopping and tilted
forward on his forehead. Their handguns are out of sight tucked into the back
of their belts and in their coat pockets. Ben is holding the carburetor from
the outboard motor. As the door slams, thunder claps loudly, and Julie jumps.
Ben takes a quick measure of the dumbstruck group and begins genially.
“Gee, folks, so sorry we startled you. Our engine gave out
and we were lucky to find you in this storm. A guy could drown standing
straight up out there.”
Hobbs ask, “You fishermen?”
Ben answers, “Yes, sir. Blue Marlin, Mako. My brother here
(indicating Kent) held a record on a Giant Tuna for a while.” Ben is calm,
smooth, and believable to the core.
Dan looks interested, “That so?” Kent nods as the room
relaxes. Theo crosses to the dinner table.
“Fishermen always welcome here,” Hobbs says.
“Gee, thanks.” Ben smiles. His blue eyes sparkle kindly and
his grin is broad and sweet. “We’re much obliged.”
Theo has trudged over to the table where he sticks his
fingers into the stew pot, takes out a large chunk of meat, and puts it in his
mouth. Ben notices the disgusted looks and he adds, “Ah, sorry, about my
brother, Theo, he skipped lunch and he’s well…” affectionate emotion rises up
in his voice, “he’s special.”
“He can’t talk,” Kent explains.
Hank experiences a rising alarm. Even with Ben’s calming
words, the guys just don’t look like fisherman. A clutching feeling in the back
of his neck travels down his spine. He will wait just a minute for Alison and
scoot them back to the cabin.
“You fellas should dry out by the fire.” Mike says.
“We’re only staying a moment. Carburetor’s dirty I guess.”
He puts the melon-sized carburetor on the floor of the lodge. “If I could just
get a good toolbox so I can get into it and clean it out.”
Off the kitchen, inside the tiny bathroom, between the noise
of the pounding rain and intermittent thunder, Alison is throwing up. She hears
nothing from the other room. With her head over the toilet, she rests her chin
on her fist and wishes she could get it together. Why is her body sabotaging
her this way? Where is her reliable sangfroid? This whole adventure is becoming
one long embarrassment.
* * *
Chapter Eleven
In the main room, Ben is savvy enough and manipulative
enough to make almost everyone comfortable, but this is not the case with the
other Burne boys; even on their best behavior, their true selves seep out like
pus. The air in the room is unstable with growing unease. Hank taps Jimmy’s
hand and says, “Let’s go back to the cabin and finish unpacking.”
“Okay, one sec.” Jimmy lays out a napkin and reaches to put
some brown bread in it to take back to his mom.
Kent turns to Dan and Mike and brags, “I caught a storm like
this once off the coast of Guava.”
“Guava is a fucking fruit,” Gravel tells him derisively. The
language is oddly harsh and suspicion crawls around the table. For Hank, dread
settles like a fist in his throat. Gravel looks to Jimmy and says, “Uh, excuse
my French there, kiddo.” Hank slides to the edge of his seat as tension rises
in his body. He doesn’t want to spark anything but he
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