I manage a grunt that’s supposed to be showing appreciation. Shona smiles in the warm way she has that’s just like her daughter.
After the desert, Mr. Monroe coughs, and the talking stops as all eyes turn to him.
He looks at me pointedly. “I want you to know, son, that all of us are happy that Jake left you the house.”
I grab my notebook out of my pocket, and he holds up a hand in a hold on gesture. “Just listen, Ed, because this needs to be said.”
I glance around the table, and all eyes are on me. They’ve talked about this. This is why I’m here.
“We don’t know why Jake made his decisions, but he did. We put family first in this house, and Jake’s wishes will be respected. We want you to know, Ed, you have our full support.”
My chest aches at his words. I’ve taken a chunk of their inheritance, and all they can think about is making sure I’m okay.
I glance down at my notepad and write two words.
Thank you.
I’ll find a way to make sure the property, or the money from it, gets back to them. But I can tell they need this. They need to honor Jake.
“Do you play checkers?” Avery asks.
Amos gives a chuckle, and the gravity of the moment passes.
I shake my head. The only games I learned in my foster homes were how to break into a car the fastest and how to outrun the cops.
“I’ll teach you.” The enthusiasm in her voice is infectious, and I follow her into the living room.
“Don’t be fooled. She’s more ruthless than any of us,” Amos warns me.
But he’s grinning. And for a moment, just a moment, I feel what it must be like to be part of a family.
10
ED
The muscles of my shoulders strain as I lug another load of dusty wooden panels out of the sorry excuse for a building that Joel is going to make his headquarters. I heave the load over the lip of the skip, and it crashes onto of the other debris below. A cloud of dust puffs into the air and I turn away, thankful for the masks that Joel handed out this morning along with thick working gloves.
“Fucking hell, we’ll all get fucking asbestos poisoning.” Marcus dumps an armload of ceiling panels into the skip. Another load of dust rises into the air, and he lets out a whoop.
“Bring it on. We faced insurgents in Iraq, took down the Taliban in Afghanistan, and negated very bad men in countries I can’t mention, but it will be the asbestos that finishes us off.”
He grins under his mask, lighting up his dark brown eyes. “Bring it on motherfucker. I’m going back in to face the enemy.”
He does a duck and roll, holding one arm up like it’s a rifle. “Tucka tucka tucka.” He pretends to shoot as he ducks through the doorway with its door missing and back into the building.
Hudson and I both watch him pretend to take down a standing beam and throw an imaginary grenade into a pile of rubble.
“I think he misses the action,” Hudson says, shaking his head.
I grunt in response.
I’ve been working on the exercises Avery gave me, and I can manage a grunt in a variety of timbres. It’s amazing how expressive one sound can be. I’m wondering if I need my vocabulary at all. I could be happy grunting my way through life.
I roll my shoulders, enjoying the ache in my muscles. It’s been too long since I used my body, and it feels good to do something physical.
I head back to the rubble and grab another load. Marcus wrestles with a slab of concrete, shouting curses and pretending it’s an insurgent.
“I’ve got a live one, boys!”
