Under An Adirondack Sky. Karen Rock
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but he needed to wake up and realize what else he might be missing in life than work hours.
“I understand. But you’re needed here, too,” she said, touching his tense arm lightly. They both stared at Connor, who, unlike the rest of the teens, still lingered outside, toppling rocks off a low stone fence. “More than you know.” She turned on her heel and headed inside before she said more than she should.
The time would come for brutal honesty, but it started with peeling off layers.
And when it came to Aiden, she felt like she’d barely scraped back the skin.
“THE BURGERS AREN’T READY. They’re too raw.” Connor stuck a fork in one of the meat patties sizzling on the barbecue grill for the retreat’s first dinner. Puffs of beefy steam rose from the faded red apparatus. “See? Still pink.”
“Diu diyu!” cried a yellow bird. A finch, recalled Aiden, picturing the name beneath the picture on the Adirondack birthday card his brother Liam had sent him last week. His thirty-first. Different year. Same exact life. Who would have thought? Then again, why would he imagine otherwise?
The chirper flew to and fro among the branches of the pines and birches lining the clearing behind the farmhouse. His round yellow body flashed in the last of the evening’s sun like a winged ball of gold.
Aiden eyed the browned patties, then peered back at his phone. He’d volunteered to grill the meat, rather than take on one of the other cooking chores the Sikeses doled out, so he could make another call. So far he’d managed to get a signal long enough to check in with Mary Ann, but it’d cut out before he could tell her they might be getting low on Guinness. What if they ran out before she arranged a fast delivery? The White Horse had the best tap in SoHo. He couldn’t let a stupid camping trip threaten the business’s reputation...which Aiden already struggled to maintain.
“Turn off the grill,” he ordered, without looking up. After he hit Redial, the bar’s number flashed on the screen.
“No.”
Aiden pressed his lips shut, but an angry exclamation leaked out of him, anyway. If Connor had to go a day without saying “no,” “whatever” or shrugging, how would the kid communicate? Then again, he barely spoke as it was. Or he barely spoke to Aiden, at least.
“Do it, Connor.”
“No. I’m not making people sick. Ever heard of E. coli?” His brother’s dark eyebrows slanted and met above his narrow nose, his face turning as red as the acne on his left cheek.
When Aiden’s call connected, he stabbed a finger toward the grill, then brought the phone to his ear before turning away.
“Mary Ann?” he shouted, despite the pre-twilight hush. The smell of grass and flowers and moist earth permeated the clearing’s still air, competing with the burning charcoal fumes. “Mary Ann?” When only a pinging sounded in his ear, he swore and immediately hit Redial once more.
A whoosh whistled behind him, followed by a blast of heat. Aiden whirled and shoved his cell in his pocket.
“What the hell?” He lunged for the flaming grate, which was engulfed in a grease fire. Why hadn’t his brother turned off the heat when Aiden told him to?
Connor jerked back and his oversize feet tangled so that he stumbled into Aiden. They both went down.
Red and orange licked the darkening sky. Behind them, the crash of pots and pans, followed by the group’s jabbering, floated from the open kitchen window.
Aiden hurtled to his feet. “Stay down,” he ordered Connor, who lunged upward anyway. Of course.
While Aiden’s eyes darted in every direction, searching for something to put out the fire, Connor slammed down the grill hood, then shook his hand.
“Are you an idiot?” Aiden grabbed his brother, concern making his heart race. “Why the hell did you do that?”
The teen jerked away and snapped off the gas burners.
“Are you hurt? Let me see your hand.”
“It’s fine,” insisted Connor, though his face looked pale. His lips tight.
“Show it to me.”
Aiden reached around his brother’s back and grasped his thin arm. They scrabbled and grabbed, pushed and yanked.
“Let go of me!”
“Stop being an—”
“Is everything all right?” called a familiar voice. Aiden’s teeth ground. Of course Rebecca would appear at the worst moment. She needed to see the times he and Connor played cards, watched an action show, went to a ball game—only Aiden couldn’t remember the last time they’d done any of those things. Not in a long, long time.
His brother spun away, panting, and crossed his arms, hiding the hand Aiden needed to see. How badly was he burned? Faces appeared in the window behind Rebecca and a girl around Connor’s age rushed outside to join them.
“What happened?” repeated Rebecca. A breeze whispered through the trees and tossed blond strands against her high cheekbones. Her blue eyes darkened as they flicked between him and Connor.
“What’s up with your arm?” asked the girl. She marched to Connor, her black braids swishing across narrow shoulders clad in a T-shirt with some kind of Japanese symbol he’d seen Connor wear. “Let me see it, idiot.”
Rebecca stepped near. “Connor, you need to show us.”
He shrugged, but allowed the women to cluck over him as they examined his hand. Aiden stepped closer and peered over Rebecca’s shoulder.
From the wrist down, Connor’s hoodie hung tattered and burned, but his skin looked only pink. Relief swept through Aiden.
“How did you—I don’t—why aren’t you burned?” blurted Aiden. He glanced at the smoking grill, then met Rebecca’s wide eyes.
“I pulled the sleeve over my hand before I grabbed the handle.”
“You should have let me take care of that,” Aiden growled, his fear morphing into anger.
“You weren’t doing anything,” Connor spat. “Like always.” His eyes filled with the usual disapproval he had for everything Aiden said or did. Hard to believe that his brother had once looked up to him. Made him feel like a hero. When had that changed? A pang of regret twisted Aiden’s gut.
“I was looking for something safe. I have more experience with grease fires than you.”
The girl’s head snapped around and she whistled as she stared at the smoking grill. Heat radiated off the metal and bent the air around it.
“Yeah. Right,” scoffed Connor. One side of his upper lip rose. “Daniel burns his grilled cheese sandwich almost every night.”
“What? Daniel doesn’t make himself a grilled cheese.”
“That’s what you think.”
Aiden opened and closed his mouth. Before she’d gotten married, Mary Ann had watched the kids at night. Now, he depended on Connor. Big mistake. His littlest brother working the stove? Not acceptable.
“We’d better get you inside and put on some burn cream. Let’s save this discussion for later,” coaxed Rebecca, giving Connor a winsome smile. “Would you like to come inside with me?”
“No.”
Her mouth didn’t move or droop. If anything, she looked more aggressively cheerful than ever. “Why not, Connor?”
How do people speak and smile at the same time? Aiden wondered. Was that something they taught you in psychology school?
“Because we need