Page 35 of Grouch-ish

Brock nods once more, finally lifting his head higher but avoiding my eyes as he slips off his coat and hangs it on a hook like he’s part of our very small family. The camel-colored jacket looks right at home among the other jackets and scarves hanging off the hooks, and when Brock kicks off his boots, but places them in a cubby hole beneath the bench, I marvel at their rightness there as well.

He might need this farmhouse as much as me to know he’s welcome and worthy.

“I’ll Be Home For Christmas” plays on the small sound system Dad has installed in the kitchen area. I’d been listening to a holiday playlist as my final farewell to the Christmas season, and suddenly my eyes well with tears.

Instantly, Brock is before me. His brows pinch in question but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he takes my hand and gently pulls me closer to him. To the sound of Bing Crosby crooning, we sway in the space between the dining table and the living room.

For too long, being home has been a dream. Living closer to my dad. Returning to myself.

But now I’m here. Where I’m meant to be.

Maybe Brock is meant to be here, too.

Day 6

Six balls a dropping

December 31

Chapter 10

[Pear]

I wake to a fresh layer of snow covering the ground and no sign of it letting up anytime soon. However, the day isn’t completely gray.

“I’ve decided today should be a cheat day,” I announce as we eat oatmeal sprinkled with cinnamon and a dash of milk for breakfast on the morning of New Year’s Eve.

“You’re springing the inmate?” Brock teases. His beard has grown fuller since his arrival. The white more prominent than the black and complementing his hair which is more ink than silver. Despite being indoors, he’s wearing a baseball cap, backwards. And I want to climb him like a chimney.

“I’m giving you a rest. Besides I had six gates a leanin’ on the list, but after the fence posts, I realize winter isn’t the best time to repair fencing.”

Brock sits up straighter. “But is there still something that needs to be done?”

“Another day.” I wave, appreciating his concern, almost eagerness, but dismissing it.

“So, today’s plan is . . .”

“Snowmobiling.”

He pauses, his spoon suspended in midair. “Are you serious?” He sounds like a kid given the present he wanted most for Christmas.

His enthusiasm forces the smile on my face to grow. “You worked hard on fixing the slides and you mentioned needing to test them. I’m certain Dad has a pair of snow bibs that would fit you.” I’m not certain what Brock will do about footwear as his construction boots won’t cut it in the billowing drifts, but he hasn’t appeared to care.

“This will be amazing. I can’t remember the last time I went snowmobiling.” Suddenly, he’s shoveling down the oatmeal he earlier protested, warning me he wasn’t an oatmeal kind of guy. Apparently, he’s a new fan.

“Okay, fireman. Slow down.”

He stills a second, pausing the swirl of his spoon around the oversized mug, and stares directly at me. “I just want to clarify, I’m not a cheater, even if we have a cheat day.”

Surprised by this admission, I blink twice. “Of course.”

His gaze holds on my face. “I’m loyal to a fault, I guess. It’s why I want to prove myself to Cap. The department is where I want to be. Where I want to stay.”

I nod once. “Totally understandable. Your secret is safe with me.” I wink.

Dad won’t need to know we took a day off. In fact, explaining all the days is going to be difficult, but that’s a problem for day thirteen. Not today.

After Brock’s bold statement, he rushes to finish the rib-coating meal and rinse out his mug. Then he disappears into Dad’s room to change into layers of clothes. I, on the other hand, take my time to finish my yummy oatmeal and sip my hot chocolate, once again laced with peppermint.