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Marcus gives me a modest smirk. “Pen thought your idea was good.”
“Genius,” she corrects, then leans closer and lowers her voice. “Honestly, I’m contemplating sending him to the shelter and keeping these guys here.”
“I heard that.” He knocks her shoulder with his as he heads for the workbench.
She turns, hands on her hips. “They’re better company than your cranky ass.”
Marcus stretches both arms up, flexing his defined shoulders before flipping her the bird behind his head.
Six sets of youthful eyes swing my way, bringing me back from a vivid reminder of what his naked chest and piercings look like. One could say it was finely sculpted… maybe even lickable.
If one was paying close enough attention, that is.
Various tools drop in succession, and their worn shoes smack the freshly packed dirt as they descend, forming a circle filled with radiant, youthful faces.
“Easy, guys,” Penelope gently cautions as they squeeze past each other.
“Hi!” a young boy with deeply tanned bumpy skin greets me. “I’m Tobias.”
“My name’s Yennifer,” the youngest girl says beside him.
One by one, they offer their names with eager smiles.
“Heather.” I take my time shaking each hand. “I see you guys have been hard at work.”
“Yup!” Yennifer beams. “We’re pretending to be pirates, and Marcus is our captain.”
In the middle of rolling a thick length of rope, he gives them a hearty, “Aye.”
They giggle, answering him with a resounding, “Arrghh!”
Penelope wears a proud, motherly smile. “These guys are getting good practice for helping withT’slasta.”
“We get to gather wood for the bonfire thishh year,” a boy by the name of Rhydan whistles through a mass of crooked teeth.
“What’s lah-sta?” I ask, testing each syllable on my tongue.
Tobias’s hands move excitedly. “A great, big, amazing com… commem…”
“Commemoration,” Penelope finishes sweetly.
“Yeah!”
“It starts nexshht week,” Rhydan says. “You sh-should come.”
Their eagerness to include me melts my insides like putty, but going to festivals or getting any more acquainted with Augustine than I already have risks damaging my mission.
Marcus slings a bundle of plywood over his shoulder and promptly inserts himself into our circle. “All right, back to work, ya bunch ofscallywags, before I make ye walk the plank!”
Speak of the devil.
The younger kids squeal with laughter when he squints an eye and curves his finger in the shape of a hook.
“I’ll go get us some water,” Penelope says. “Think you can co-captain the ship for a bit?”
Marcus props the plywood against one of the stalls he’s reframing before making sure each pirate has an age-appropriate task.
“Yeah,” I half-mutter. But by the time I pry my eyes off him ruffling Tobias’s hair, she’s gone.
