Sure Shot (Brooklyn #4)(55)

Dave used to heat up cans of soup and stew for me. I think he mastered Kraft dinners at some point, because I remember watching him sprinkle packets of powdered cheese over pasta.

“Hey, Zara?” I ask spontaneously.

“Hmm?” my sister-in-law asks as she pours the pasta into boiling water.

“Someday will you teach me to cook a few things? Just to get me started.”

“Sure!” She throws a smile over her shoulder. “That would be fun.”

“Thanks,” I say gruffly. And then I reheat the cider for Dave and myself. Because even a dummy like me can use the microwave.





Outside, the evening is cool, and the light is gone. Dave is splitting wood in the glow of the porch light. It gets dark early in Vermont in November. But I love the cool, crisp air and the scent of pine on the breeze.

While my brother does hard physical labor, I’m sipping a mug of cider and thinking deep thoughts about what I might want to learn how to cook.

Life is good.

Dave stands another log on a wide, flat stump. Then he lifts the ax high and splits it with one sharp blow.

I cackle. “I swear this is better entertainment than a playoffs game. Who knew you’d turn into a lumberjack with an ax?”

“Not an ax. A maul.”

“What’s the difference?”

“A maul is heavier and duller than an ax. It splits the wood by force, not blade sharpness.”

I crack up again. “Who knew, big brother? Who knew.”

“You go ahead and have your fun.” He flashes me a smile. The stupid man doesn’t even care that I’m teasing him. That’s how much he loves Vermont. “Want to try it?”

“Are you kidding? I’d probably lose a limb.”

“Nah. Come here. Quick, before we have to go in for dinner.”

Reluctantly, I set down the mug of cider and stand next to Dave.

He hands me the maul with a grin that says he knows I’m nervous but also too stubborn to say so. “Let gravity do all the work. So long as you keep your eye on the log, and your body out of the way, there’s nothing to it.”

I lift the maul overhead. It’s kind of heavy, but I don’t complain. Then—taking care with my aim—I let it fall to the cut end of the log.

I’m too tentative. Instead of splitting the log neatly in two, the maul just sticks into the log’s top. When I tug on the handle, the log lifts with the maul’s blade.

Now it’s Dave’s turn to laugh. He takes the maul from my hand, aims, and brings the whole mess down onto the stump with a bang. The log splits neatly away from the maul. “Try again.”

“No. My drink is getting cold.”

“Dare you.”

“Asshole!”

He cracks up again. Neither of us will ever refuse a dare. Bravery was our sibling code. Because it took an act of bravery just to walk through the door every night. We had the kind of childhood that people don’t talk about in polite company.

When I watch my brother stacking all those wedges of wood he’s just split, I feel like I can see two different people. There’s the happy father splitting wood for his new wife and their three fireplaces. And there’s the frightened boy who’s desperate enough to break his own face to save us both.

The back door opens. “Dinner in five minutes!” Zara calls out before disappearing inside again.

I stand up quickly, because when someone calls you to dinner, you go.

“Hang on,” he says. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

My stomach dips, and I don’t even know why.

Dave turns to me with a smile. “We’re having another baby in May.”

Oh.

“A baby,” I echo. “Oh, wow.” It takes a second for the news to sink in. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it coming.

“Yeah, my teammates were right on target with their teasing.” He chuckles. “This time it’s a little boy.”

“Oh! Congratulations!” The guys in Brooklyn had some kind of pool going to bet on how soon after Dave’s retirement he and Zara would have a second child. It’s funny when a cliché comes true.

But my insides are swimming in turmoil.

The existence of my brother’s first child had been a huge shock. For two years after his first tryst with Zara, Dave hadn’t known he had a child with her. That drama is over now, and I’m happy for them.

So why do I feel so gutted right now? “Congratulations,” I choke out.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“In May,” I say slowly, turning it over in my mind. While I’m watching the playoffs, my brother will be welcoming his baby son into the world. This time he’ll be there at the hospital, encouraging Zara to push.

Then I’ll go to the Baby Gap and buy one of everything from the baby boy side of the store. I’ll fly up here to hold my nephew, who I will love the moment I lay eyes upon him.

And when I go back home to my quiet Brooklyn apartment, my yearning for a family of my own will become even more clawing and desperate than it already is.

“Bess? Hey.”

“Mmm?” I manage to look up eventually.

“Are you okay?” My brother is frowning at me.

“Perfectly,” I say quickly. “Of course.”