MUTELY, Gideon took his place at the supper table. This caused no particular notice as the Rivers had grown accustomed to his reticence. Come dessert, a golden pound cake— which Gideon could personally vouch had been baked to perfection— was brought to the table. Once again, off Cricket went, spoon waving and tongue scolding. Fort caught the blame this time and, having been on the wrong end of Ember’s pranks more than once, he in turn rounded on his younger brother. The whole thing struck Gideon as hilarious.
“What are you laughing at?” said Fort peevishly.
Gideon tried to answer, but it was no use.
“It was you,” Lee realized. “You’re the one pinching Cricket’s food.”
Gideon nodded and, in very civil French, offered his apologies to Cricket, though it took some effort to squeeze the words around the burble of his amusement. This gesture of honesty earned him a profuse reprimand in a language he did not know, but it suited the task well.
“You’re a brave man to come between me and food, Gov,” Fort said, claiming Gideon’s share of the cake.
It was joshing, not threat and, with mischievous still lighting his features, Gideon made no complaint. He accepted the cook’s verdict too– clearing and washing the dishes on his own.
When the last plate had been stacked and the last pot hung, Cricket sent Gideon to the sitting room with a tray of coffee. The boys were sprawled on the floor by the fireplace. Ember and Fort sat on either side of a chessboard. Lee, perched nearby, guitar in hand, passed his fingers over the strings without apparent effort, creating a soft, ambling melody. Ember reached for a rook and Lee hit a dissonant cord.
“You keep out of this,” Fort objected. “It’s bad enough with Aspen here putting in his two cents.”
“Me?” said Lee innocently. “What’d I do?”
“Don’t even try it. You let Ember make whatever move he wants.”
Lee leveled an accusing finger at Fort. “You only say that because you normally get the help.”
The older man batted Lee’s hand away. Under cover of this playful argument, Aspen nudged Ember to move a bishop.
“I saw that! I saw that, Aspen!” Fort cried, and the biggest brother piled into the oldest, pinning him to the floor, much to the amusement of the youngest brothers.
“Get his boots,” Fort directed.
“Don’t you dare, Emberlee!” Aspen warned, squirming ineffectually under Fort’s greater weight.
The twins fell happily to their work; Aspen was only beaten when they all ganged up on him.
“I give!” Aspen relented, prematurely and wholeheartedly.
“You know when we were kids and you kept telling me actions have consequences?” Fort asked, as he struggled for a better grip. “Well, brother, you were right.”
They had Aspen’s boots off by then and despite his protestations– or possibly because of them— they applied themselves to tickling his exceptionally sensitive feet.
Gideon stood stock still in the kitchen doorway, witness to this brotherly camaraderie, and found his heart was not so completely smashed to dust and blown away with the wind as he had thought. A tiny shard was still intact and caught in his throat, choking him.
Cricket watched Gideon's face drain of color and was not surprised when the gathered-up stray abandoned the coffee and retreated outside.