There was still a lot left to be said.
I took a page out of Deacon’s book when I heard the door open and I didn’t turn to look. I heard his boots on the deck, as well as Bossy’s claws. Then I saw a steaming mug put down on the arm of the chair as Bossy came to me and nosed my hand.
I gave her some pets and scratches, looking at the mug.
It was cocoa. Cocoa with marshmallow fluff melting on top.
I had not forgotten how Deacon could surprise me with little snatches of sweetness, like being a badass and putting marshmallow on hot cocoa (or making it at all). But I couldn’t deny it felt crazy-good having it back.
“Bed, baby,” I ordered Bossy, lifting up the cup.
She loped to the big dog bed I had out on the porch by the railing in front of the chairs that I’d thrown an old flannel blanket over. Her place in the cold when I was outside so she could be with me.
“She’s trained.” I heard Deacon say, knowing he was sitting beside me.
I took a sip of cocoa, the fluff tipping my lip. I took the cup away and licked it off.
“She knows ‘sit,’ ‘down,’ ‘stay,’ ‘bed,’ ‘come,’ ‘quiet,’ ‘be good,’ ‘downstairs,’ ‘upstairs,’ ‘play dead,’ and ‘fetch,’” I shared. “She’s great at fetch. She loves Frisbees.”
He said nothing but I felt the heaviness that came from him, my guess, this due to the fact he wasn’t there to teach her all that with me.
I drew in a breath.
Before I could ask for it, Deacon gave it to me.
“Grew up on a farm in Iowa.”
I closed my eyes tight, those seven words washing over me, beating back the January chill.
“Granddad was an attorney,” he went on and I opened my eyes. “Pissed as shit my dad didn’t follow in his footsteps. But Dad wanted to be a farmer so he bought a farm and became a farmer. Found a woman who wanted him however he came, but regardless, she loved the life.”
I took another sip of cocoa while Deacon paused and I held my cup in front of me in both my gloved hands as he carried on.
“I didn’t want to be a farmer. Got a younger sister, she wasn’t into that shit either. Dad was disappointed but he’d been a son who went his own way. He was also a man who wouldn’t push his son to go his way because he’d been the same.”
He had a sister.
I said nothing. Just took another sip.
“I played football in high school. That was back in the day when you didn’t pick one sport and train all year for it, so I also threw discus and javelin in track and field. When I was sixteen, got a job roofing during the summer. Did it when I was seventeen too. Liked it. Liked being a part of building something. Fixing something. Seein’ my work laid out in front of me at the end of the day. Understood it was my calling even if, at the same time, I didn’t really understand what a calling was.”
He paused.
I waited.
He continued.
“The man who owned the contracting company I worked for took a liking to me. Gave me a job out of high school. If I didn’t take over the farm, Dad wanted me to go to college. I didn’t do that either. He didn’t like it but understood. I graduated on a Saturday, went to work on a Monday, moved out of his house by the end of the summer. He got it. I had to be my own man and I didn’t fuck around bein’ it, so he also respected it.”
That was pretty amazing.
Deacon didn’t give me a chance to share that.
“Guy I worked for,” he kept going, “had three daughters, no sons. So when I say he took a liking to me, I mean he took me under his wing. Lookin’ back, he was groomin’ me to take over when he was done. Taught me everything about building, wiring, plumbing, foundation work, architecture. Learned it all on the job, but I learned it.”
That was how he knew how to put up gutters, that my roof needed shingles, and how to sketch a gazebo, not having any issue building it.
There was a happy shift happening inside as all the pieces of Deacon started fitting together.
“Her name was Jeannie,” he said softly and that shift halted as my stomach curled.
He didn’t speak for a while and then he launched back in.
“Met her and it was all the way it was supposed to be. Every second of it. Until she went missing.”
In shock at his words, my head jerked to the side to look at him. “Missing?”
He turned his eyes to me. “Yeah, Cassie. Missing.”
“My God,” I whispered.
“It isn’t a pretty story.”
He’d already said that and I knew it had to be, what with her being dead.
But now it seemed worse. I couldn’t imagine anyone I loved going missing. It would drive me mad.
Yes, absolutely, all the pieces of Deacon were fitting together.
I just no longer liked the picture they were forming.
He looked back to the trees.
I did too and took another sip of cocoa, sucking in melted marshmallow fluff, making it extra sweet.