Page 8 of Snow Blind (The Technicians #14)

H elen arose early on Wednesday morning, driving over to Mark and Ruth Neary's home to start the holiday baking. Ruth Neary, the adoptive mother of her man Mustang, and a true Southern Belle, began her holiday baking the day before Thanksgiving. This tradition meant the sweet potato pies, cookies, and pound cakes would be handled today, freeing the oven for the mac and cheese, ham, and turkey baking on Thursday for the big dinner.

However, since neither she nor Mustang would be attending Thanksgiving with his family, she wanted to bring a bit of home to him. It also helped to not have to do all the baking herself to take to Bad Apple's for dinner. In Helen's mind, it was a win-win.

Three hours later, loaded with a loaf pan pound cake, two sweet potato pies, and a dozen of Ruth Neary's famous peanut butter cookies, Helen headed for home. The two-hour drive from Louisville to Plainville wouldn't take much effort. She managed to wrangle a bit of cookie dough from Ruth as well, so that when her man came in from work, their home would be filled with the warm scents of holiday cheer.

To add to her list of making things cozy, when she left Antioch, she stopped in Naperville at a Wayfair Outlet to pick up items for their home in Indiana. Helen wanted to nest and put in touches which made the place feel as if she lived there. Too much of her life with Cherry had been temporary, from military duty stations, temporary housing, and renting places they could leave in a hurry if necessary. For the first time in her life, she was setting down roots.

She would have a favorite chair, a painting picked up at a local art show to hang in the guest room, or aprons for special occasions when they had over friends and family. Remorsefully, she didn't want to admit to looking forward to having Thanksgiving with Bad Apple, because it meant being honest with the sad state of her life with Cherry. They had holiday dinners, but most times, it was a sad bird that came in a pre-ordered meal box that was stuck in the oven and baked for 45 minutes. Now, she was planning and preparing meals from scratch, which actually tasted decent - thanks to Ruth Neary.

The drive home filled her head with happy thoughts. On her next break, she would order a new embroidery machine for the house along with a craft cutter, sewing machine, and one of those wall units for all of her crafting supplies. The next trip home, she'd set up her crafting room. This trip, she planned to work on the guest room for when her father came for a visit. The hall bathroom needed a bit of jazzing up, and the kitchen needed to say a woman lived in the home. Plus, she had a rug for the living room to kill the echo.

At the gate for the home compound, Helen entered her code as the gates opened just enough to allow her truck to drive through. She pulled around the house to the back door, parking the truck to unload the goodies. The keys jangled as she opened the door and raced to the panel to disarm the systems. A loud sigh escaped her lips.

"It feels good to be home," she said aloud.

Slowly, she began to unload the truck. The baked goods came in first, followed by the small bag of groceries for supper plans. Next, she dragged the rug into the home, moving the coffee table and rolling it out. It added immediate warmth to the space without too much color to overwhelm his male senses. A plush throw she tossed over the back of the couch, as she returned to the car, taking out items and placing them in their new homes.

"This Ficus is really needed in that corner," she said aloud, adding the plant. In the other corner she added a lemon tree, and in the master bedroom, she put in a snake plant. "Now the guest room."

A new rug, throw pillows, and a painting over the bed of two intertwined hands were hung. Fresh drapes hung at the windows and satisfied, she made herself a cup of tea. At a quarter of four, Helen checked her watch and began the prep for the arrival of her man.

Dinner would be simple, consisting of a hearty vegetable soup with chunks of beef, cheesy toast, and a side salad, which paired well with the bottle of Shiraz she grabbed to go with the meal. For an added touch, she set the table and lit a couple of candles. A quick shower and her favorite maxi dress were what she had on when the chime sounded to the back door and Mustang entered the home.

He looked at the table, inhaled the scent of freshly baked peanut butter cookies, and spotted the rug in the living room. His eyes went to his woman next. The smile which covered his face said everything Helen wanted to hear from him without the use of words.

"Welcome home Baby," she said, "dinner's ready. Get comfy, drop your gear and come tell me about your day."

"My day just got amazingly better," he said, opening his arms.

Helen walked into the embrace, kissing him with gusto. Mustang held up a finger. There were matters on his mind which needed taking care of before any sweet love could be made, plus the table looked amazing and dinner smelled wonderful.

"I missed you," he said softly, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"All I could think about was getting here," she said. "I spent the morning with Ruth baking, so I have two sweet potato pies and her sour cream pound cake."

"Oh, you did, did you?"

"Yes. We can leave one pie here and take one to Apple's for Thanksgiving," she said.

"Or we can take it all and share the bounty," he replied, walking over to pull out the chair for her to sit. "This looks just wonderful, Helen. I needed this. It was a rough couple of days."

"Want to talk about it?"

"No, I want instead to give you this," he said, bending to one knee. From his coat pocket, he pulled out a velvet box, opening it to show it to her. "I know you can't wear it when you work, but I thought it would be nice to wear it this weekend."

Mustang slipped the ring on her left finger. Her small hands showcased the sparkling diamonds which accented the platinum setting. Helen smiled, and from her pocket, she also removed a velvet box, presenting it to him.

"Those chicks in your office also need to know you're taken," she told him, removing the diamond encrusted band to slip on his left hand.

"You got me an engagement ring?" he asked, looking down at his hand. For shits and giggles, he held up his hands and began to fan his face like to was trying to prevent his mascara from running with his tears. "It's so sudden. Yes, Helen. Yes, I shall marry you. I'm so happy right now. So happy. I need a moment."

"Oh, shut up," she said, laughing at him. "Let's eat before dinner gets cold."

****

R IGHT AT 8 A.M., MUSTANG , driving a black GMC Yukon, departed the compound, preparing for the five-hour drive to Janesville, Wisconsin, for Thanksgiving dinner with what he assumed to be a newfound couple of friends. For his own peace of mind, as a backup, he booked a local hotel room in case shit got weird. This was different for him and the first outing as a couple for him and Helen.

"Practice run for Christmas," she said aloud.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"This is our first outing as an official couple," she told him. "It can be a practice run for Christmas and having to explain to the family what is happening between us."

"I don't have, or rather we don't have, to explain shit," he said. "We are consenting, grown ass adults. Besides, when I tell Mama Ruth I have moved two hours away, the rest, she's not going to care about."

"True," she replied, enjoying the comfort of the leg room of the SUV. "Is this a rental?"

"No, I bought it to haul home all that shit you're planning to buy for Christmas," he said, "plus, didn't really want to drive five hours in the Cobra. I’m getting too old for that shit."

"I like it," she replied. "Roomy. Do you think we can make out in the back?"

"Shit, I have enough leg room where we can get freaky up front, if need be," he replied laughing. "Put on some tunes and let's enjoy the ride. It's good to be out of the office."

"Man, that is an understatement," she added, thinking of Passion Fruit locked in with Bryan for the weekend.

The hours zoomed by as the Yukon ate the miles of the road, arriving in Janesville right at noon. The old farmhouse had a new life with a fresh coat of paint. The barn, which had been a doorless, falling-in mess, now possessed doors and the camper where Ricky had been living had a home. In the garage, she could also see Bad Apple's black Ford F-150, aimed at a side door, while Ricky's truck was parked in front of his camper. In the drive, where Helen instructed Mustang to park, a second small car sat. Helen didn't recognize the vehicle and decided not to speak about it.

Helen removed the cake and pies from the back seat, turning to find Bad Apple on the porch that no longer leaned to one side. He provided her a nod as Mustang rounded the vehicle to help Helen with the goodies. They walked up the stairs to be greeted.

"Mustang, Cranberry."

"Apple," Helen said, and Mustang provided a nod.

"Stephen has made snacks, a charcuterie board, finger sandwiches and other stuff, I have no idea what half of it is," Apple said. "Ricky is grilling the turkey, so I have limited hopes on that turning out well. If push comes to shove, we have potatoes and green beans, so we won't starve."

Mustang watched his eyes and asked, "You need help with anything?"

"Yes, a second turkey; if you can get one of those, then dinner may be saved," Apple said, opening the door for them to enter.

The pink chairs she'd purchased were still at the window, along with her teacup and a fresh steaming pot of hot water.

"Aunt Helen is here!" A young black man said as he barreled around the corner.

"Hello, Jeffrey," she added, opening her arms for an embrace. The young man looked good. He wore new sneakers, sported a fresh haircut, and wore a button-down shirt. "This is Jay."

"Hey, Uncle Jay," he said, extending his hand for a shake, which Mustang accepted. "Nice to meet you. Aunt Helen, you may have to go into the kitchen and help calm Stephen down. He's completely off the rails and has overwhelmed himself."

Just as he said the words, Stephen entered the space, filling it with sparkles, fairy power, and wearing what could only be considered his Cowboy Carter tribute. Mustang didn't react to the young Asian boy dressed in all white, including chaps and a cowboy hat.

"Aunt Helen!" Stephen squealed. "The green beans still need to destringed! Oscar has peeled away all the potatoes instead of just removing the skin. Mr. Ricky is completely ruining the turkey by putting it on the grill, and a bitch is about to pop a blood vessel."

Helen held up the box. "I have pound cake, peanut butter cookies, and two sweet potato pies," she said, passing the box to Jeffrey.

Stephen was looking at Mustang. He pointed at the muscle-bound man, prompting Helen to say, "This is Jay."

The young man pouted, asking, "Can Uncle Jay man a grill to stop Mr. Ricky from ruining my perfect Thanksgiving?"

"Hey, I can try," Mustang said. "Honestly, I must say I'm impressed you're wearing all white and have no food stains on you. So, whatever you need us to help with, point and we can make it happen."

"Oh God, I think I love him. Jay. Uncle Jay, whatever, please go stop Mr. Ricky," Stephen said.

"I have no idea who Mr. Ricky is, but point me in the direction," Mustang said, smiling at Helen.

A boy, whom Mustang recognized, also appeared, making a beeline for Helen, but stopped when he saw the big man. "I remember you," Oscar said. "I remember you."

"And I remember you. You look good. You feeling, okay?"

"I guess; lots of drama around here," Oscar said. "Pretty noisy. Screeching. Meltdowns. Every. Day."

"Must be rough," Mustang said.

"Dude," Oscar said, emoting with his entire face before looking at Helen. "I heard cookies. Did you say cookies?"

Ricky entered from the newly built deck into the kitchen. Outside, lots of black smoke hovered around the grill. Bad Apple only shook his head. Mustang headed towards the back door, stopped by the deep voice of Ricky.

"Are you him?"

"I am Jay," Mustang said. "The fire seems a bit high; mind if I take a look?"

"Look all you want, but I got it," Ricky replied defensively.

"Awesome," Mustang nodded. "Have you ever heard of the three-smoke method for grilling large game birds?"

"The what?"

"Mind if I show you?"

"Three smoke method?" Ricky said, following Mustang out the back door. Helen turned to Bad Apple, smiling at him.

"He's a menace with anything other than a hammer, but he tries," Bad Apple said, giving a bit of a forced smile. "You look good. Nice ring. Has a date been set yet? We will want to be there."

"Of course," she answered. "Things seem to be going well."

"For the most part," he answered, taking a seat in one of the pink chairs, waiting for her to join him.

They shared a cup of tea, and nothing more was said. Mustang appeared in the kitchen asking Stephen for spices, seasonings, and vinegar water for the grill. Stephen, in return, passed Mustang a beer to go along with everything else he asked for, plus a tapas plate of finger foods. Helen joined him in the kitchen to finish preparing the holiday meal.

She fussed and fawned over the dining room table and the setting. Helen marveled over the souffle when it came out of the oven, she held nothing back praising Stephen's mac and cheese with the crunchy topping. Jeffrey went on about the Thanksgiving decorations and Stephen calmed down, bringing it all together.

Mustang became the conquering hero, entering the back door with the turkey spatchcocked on a platter, flattened and grilled to perfection. Helen found herself pleasantly surprised when the white van rolled up as Pear arrived, bringing drinks.

"Pear, this is Mustang," Helen said, making the brief introduction.

"I see you Cranberry, okay now," she replied, nodding at Mustang, who said nothing. "And he's wearing a ring. Go ahead, Sis!"

Helen looked at Mustang, who was back pretending as if he were crying and fanning his eyes to stop the tears. Bad Apple saw it and found himself laughing. Ricky wasn't amused.

"You married our Helen?" Ricky asked.

"Yep," Mustang said, staring him in the eye.

The standoff lasted a minute. Mustang didn't break his stare and Ricky finally blinked. "You saved the turkey, so I will forgive you."

"Good to know," Mustang replied, as everyone came to the table for dinner.

Bad Apple blessed the meal. Food passed left. Food passed right, and Mustang was pleasingly surprised at how good the meal actually tasted. He told Stephen well done and even helped with the cleanup after dinner.

From the vantage point of standing away from the group, he was able to observe the woman he planned to marry. Each time one kid left her side, another popped up. When it wasn't a kid, the odd woman with the wild hair took a seat. The woman moved and Ricky sat with Helen, followed by Apple, and finally Oscar who popped in between chats for hugs and cuddles. Mustang, sitting alone at the table enjoying an after-dinner coffee, noticed the boy watching him.

"This should be interesting," Mustang said under his breath as the boy approached.

Oscar asked, "You liked that dinner?"

"It was well done," Mustang replied.

"Yeah, sometimes Stephen tries things that don't go together and we end up with tummy aches," Oscar commented. "This was okay."

Mustang added no words, allowing the air between them to settle down, so the boy could say what was on his mind. Whatever it was, he'd already decided he wasn't taking any kids, not this one, or any other ones. However, he was fair, and he'd listen.

"Mister Jay, you got any kids?"

"No."

"You want any?'

"You offering?"

"Don't know. It would be cool to have a dad," Oscar said. "The kids at school are always talking about their weekend plans. It would be cool you know, to say, yeah, me and my dad, took out the...what do you call the boat, you know, for two people, with the sticks, which go like this."

He pretended to use oars as an example of what he was trying to show Mustang.

"A canoe?"

"Yeah, canoe," Oscar repeated. "What is the verb for using a canoe?"

"Canoeing."

"Yeah, I would be like, me and my Dad did some canoeing this weekend at the lake," Oscar said. "You canoe? Or do you go...canoeing?"

"Yes, I have a couple of canoes," Mustang said.

"You got any kids?"

"My answer hasn't changed since you asked two minutes ago," Mustang replied.

"Yeah, I know, but hey. Mr. Milton says a man has to state his intentions and be honest," Oscar explained.

The boy intrigued him, as well as did his thought processes. He was engaged and wanted to see where he was leading him in the conversation. Mustang asked, "What are your intentions and what are you being honest about?"

"Chaos," Oscar said. "Every day here is chaos. Jeffrey is driving and has a girlfriend. Stephen, well, is Stephen, but they are older and will be leaving soon."

"You worried about that?"

"I'm worried about who will come in to replace them," Oscar said. "Last week, a new kid showed up. He had crazy eyes. Mr. Milton couldn't let him stay. He was too far gone. The streets damaged him, and he made me feel unsafe. I want to feel safe."

"You're not safe here?"

"I have a lock on my door, but Mr. Milton sleeps downstairs," Oscar said. "The next kid...you know, it only takes a second to catch you off guard. Then he's in my room. I want to feel safe. Hey, you got any kids?"

Mustang was listening to what the boy was saying and possibly asking for, but he wasn't sure. "You offering?"

"I want a dad, but I want to feel safe," Oscar said. "I want to go to bed with my door open if I want to, come home from school and there are no more kids in the house that may want to harm me. I want to go canoeing on the weekend, fishing, and go to my dad’s job while he brags about me to the folks he works with. I don't want much, just a chance. I want a dad. You want a son?"

"How do you know I'm a good person or if I will make a suitable Dad?"

"Aunt Helen," he said. "She don't stand for no bullshit. You can't be her man and be on some bullshit. You have to be right to be with that lady. Think about it; let me know."

"Think about what?"

"Me being your kid," Oscar said. "You can teach me stuff and help me with homework, and I can be your partner in life."

Mustang found himself smiling, intrigued, and again, fully engaged with the boy. He asked, "My partner in life?"

"Aunt Helen is not going to watch sporting games with you, go fishing, or help you clean the canoe," Oscar said. "Partner. You keep me safe; I keep you safe."

"You're going to keep me safe?"

"There are times in this life when a man doesn't need to walk alone. I'll walk with you, have your back, keep you safe," Oscar explained.

"You can't do that for Mr. Milton?" Mustang inquired.

"He's broken," Oscar said. "His heart is in the right place, but he doesn't know how to give love. Aunt Helen keeps looking over at you with this look in her eye. She loves you, and you must know how to give love back, because she's not with the bullshit. You know how to love. I want some of that. Like I said, let me know. I'm a good kid. Won't be no trouble."

"You repeat yourself a lot," Mustang said.

"People don't hear me the first time, so I have to make sure what I'm saying is being communicated," Oscar said. "We have the weekend to try it out. Then we can go from there."

"And if my answer is no?"

"I’ll try again on another day," he said, looking Mustang in the eye. "I will also give you my Christmas wish list before you go, in case, you know, you feel like getting me a present."

"Hmm," was all Mustang had to say as the evening came to a close.

The downstairs guest room had been completed as well as the en suite bath, giving them privacy from the family. The bed was too small and Mustang's feet hung over the edge. Helen snuggled up next to him.

"You canceled the hotel room?"

"Yes."

He remained quiet, lying in the dark, holding her close. "They all love you. Even that Ricky guy, who I may have to fight before the weekend is over. He keeps eyeballing you in a way that makes me want to punch him in the face," Mustang whispered. "I think he's in love with you."

"He's also in love with Apple."

"Didn't see that coming."

"Why do you think they all love me, Jay?"

"Easy," he said, giving her a squeeze. "Because I love you too."

"I love you as well," she said, leaning into him.

"Oscar asked me to be his dad," Mustang said.

"Hmmm," she mumbled, saying no more.

"Nothing to say?"

"No," Helen said.

"He wants us to try it out over the weekend," Mustang said.

"Hmmp," she repeated and drifted off to sleep. Helen had nothing more to add to the conversation right now. Oscar was right. If he and Mustang were a good fit, the weekend would tell, and Jay would need to make the decision of whether he wanted to take on that task. She wouldn't say one way or another.

Whatever he decided, she'd support.