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CHAPTER ONE
Nine handed the cut logs to Gaspar, placing them alongside the other wood they’d spent the morning splitting. In fact, they’d split enough wood to last the entire winter for everyone. They’d felled trees, cut trees, sliced trees, shaved trees, chopped trees, split wood, made kindling. They’d done it all.
When they were finished, they sat on the picnic tables between the cabins, taking a long swig of the hot coffee left for them by Lauren and Sara. There was a plate of warm cookies as well, which were gone before the first swig of coffee. Tailor and Alec finished their pile then it was Miller and Bull. The senior team was all together, chopping wood and feeling completely useless and unneeded.
“Anybody else feel like a useless errand boy?” frowned Bull.
“Fucking sucks to be retired,” growled Nine. “I don’t know what I expected, but this sure as shit isn’t it. Chopping wood, washing dishes, cutting grass. I don’t mind doing that shit, but when that’s the only thing I have to do all fucking day, it starts eating at me.”
“We’re hardly retired,” said Gaspar. “We help the boys all the time. I mean, in a passive sort of way.”
“Not enough,” said Nine. “Fuck, we’re all still in our prime. We’re in great physical condition. We still have our health, eyesight, and, for the most part, speed. Why are we sitting here wasting away?”
“Wasting away?” laughed Antoine. “We’re hardly wasting away. We’re doing what we promised our wives we would do. We slowed down, and we’re spending more time with them. Look, I know it’s hard, but we’ve done our time getting shot at by bad guys, avoiding bullets and knives. I mean, fuck, how many times have you been nearly blown up? How many times have you been shot? Stabbed? Nearly run over or drowned? I, for one, am happy for the pond and the fact that my dick still works and keeps my wife happy.”
“Are you sure she’s happy?” smirked Baptiste. His brother flipped him off as the others laughed, shaking their heads at one another.
“I just think we need to find something to keep us busy. All the time. Maybe volunteer or some shit. I mean, I know we do a little of that, but it needs to be something more. Something bigger,” remarked Vince.
“How do we do that, dumbass. We can’t show our faces like we used to,” said Code. “Besides, if you have a face like Angel’s, no one forgets. And if you have a face like the Robicheauxs, everyone remembers!”
“Thanks. I think,” frowned Gabe.
“Look, it’s the holidays. Thanksgiving is coming up, and we always do stuff for the boys’ home. But maybe we do more this year,” said Angel.
“What do you mean?” asked Ghost.
“I mean, maybe we expand it beyond the boys’ home and do the school as well. We have kids that are in long-term dormitory with one parent, sometimes no parent. We could ask Irene and Ruby if there are some needy kids in the Parish. We have the means; we’re bored as fuck. Let’s do something.”
“Kids nowadays are into electronic shit,” said Miller. “I have no idea what to buy them, and to be honest, I don’t like getting them hooked on that stuff. Besides, that would be just throwing money at a bigger problem.”
“Yea, you’re right. They like their electronics and games and shit,” laughed Ian, “but we have the most brilliant tech people in the world. Let’s create some next-level electronic shit for them that will blow their little minds. Make it totally about learning and not some jacked-up game that will suck their brains dry, making them dress up and play weird shit.”
“It’s not weird shit. It’s called cosplay and kids, and adults, really get into it. Those games have their place, and kids learn from those as well. But let’s mix it with traditional things,” said Antoine. “Let’s build rocking horses for the bebés, maybe make some dolls for the girls, board games made from real boards. That kind of shit. We could put some electronic components to it. Maybe the doll records and speaks back, or the rocking horses actually make neighing sounds or the sounds of hooves.”
“Should we be cussing so much when we’re talking about kids?” asked Baptiste with a grin.
“What the fuck? They’re not here!” growled Gaspar.
“Fine, but you know that Père Noël is watching,” frowned Gabe. Gaspar stared at his little brother, shaking his head. He started to laugh, and the other brothers laughed with him.
“Inside joke?” asked Ghost.
“No, man. When Gabe was little, he always tried to stay up and wait to see Santa. He would sneak down and sit at the top of the steps every fucking year. He’d watch the plate with the cookies and the glass of milk, waiting to see if it disappeared. One year, he actually drew a line on one of Mama’s good glasses to see if any milk was gone. He’d even put out reindeer food.
“I’d find him around two a.m. and carry him back upstairs. In the morning, I’d come back down, and there he was, asleep on the steps again,” smirked Miller.
“Pierre, you know it was all of us. Alec did it too. Besides, I saw him. None of y’all believed me, but I saw him,” said Gabe.
“That’s true, that’s true,” he nodded. “We all tried to find Santa, but apparently, Gabe was the only one who actually caught him in the house putting out presents. Man, Mama and Pops always made Christmas amazing. No matter how much or how little they had that year, we had a great Christmas morning. And the food, man, y’all know the food was always off the charts.”
“It was great because of the love in our house. They made it special talking about magic and the spirit of Christmas. Back then, Grandpére Robicheaux was still living here. He was something else. But that love, that was something no one could duplicate or buy. Love between all of us, especially Mama and Pops,” said Gaspar, squeezing his brother’s shoulder.
“That’s what we can’t make,” said Angel, looking at all the men. “We can’t make those children see and feel love if it doesn’t exist in their lives now. We can’t help them to know what a stable home feels like, or the love of a mother and a father.”
“Yes, we can,” said Trak.
“Fuck me!”
