Pirate Moon

By June Marie Saxton

Wind blew silence, rolling heavy and thick from the oceans chilly deep, and it settled around us. I stared at a puddle of blood and shuddered. I glanced toward the ocean. The moon peeked through tattered clouds and it was eerie and sad. I called it a pirate moon, yet for melancholy reasons this time. The shady acts of men and devils were often aided by the light of such dim telestial glow.
Pirate Moon is a stand-alone, must-read novel, yet it subtly culminates Saxtons other books, Dancing with the Moon, Beckon, and Into the Second Springtime. It is written in typical Saxton style, evoking sorrow, pain, radiant laughter, joy, tender romance, and quiet reflection. Pirate Moon is both the darkest and lightest of Saxtons books; cleverly combining danger and spirituality like the two were friends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 31, 2011
• ISBN: 9781463474171

June Marie Saxton

June Marie Saxton is chiefly a wife, mother, and grandmother, but she truly enjoys her career as a nutritional consultant as well. June Marie owns Bear Necessities of Montpelier, a nutritional clinic and day spa, where she provides creative concepts for healthy living. She loves and serves easily, being forever fascinated by other people’s traits, culture, and talents. June Marie plans on writing until the fun wears off. “If it’s not fun I won’t budget the energy for it,” she says, “Although I don’t see my writing passion fading any time soon.” June Marie has authored eight books: Dancing with the Moon, Beckon, Into the Second Springtime, Pirate Moon, Emerald Fire, Ball Baby, Veil of Azure Sequins, and Mach 16. She was instrumental in getting her father’s manuscript published, Whirlwind on the Outlaw Trail, by Dale B. Weston. June Marie is currently writing Confessions of a Redneck Witchdoctor, which is slated for a 2016 release.

Book preview

Pirate Moon

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2011 by June Marie Saxton. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse      08/25/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4634-7422-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-7418-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-7417-1 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011914580

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Acknowledgements

I Believe!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

About the Author

Acknowledgements

Special thanks to Shannyn Davis of Culture Photography for the cover and cover page designs. I appreciate Justyn Saxton’s cooperation in our endeavors. Thanks to Casey Saxton for technical support and Tahnee Saxton for making the Princess Blue song come to life with simple beauty. Thanks to Janalee Saxton, Diane Bethers, and Jamie Thompson for proof reading. Thanks to the fans of my books, and to all who encouraged me to continue the Moon series.

Most especially, thanks to my parents, Dale and Pam Weston for their undivided interest and encouragement on this project, as well as in every undertaking I have ever grappled with.

Names of villains, lawyers, bankers, arborists, landscapists, and environmentalists in this book are purely fictional, and not intended to mirror or portray persons representing any organizations or businesses from real life. Any character likeness is purely accidental, yet my sympathies would be extended to souls matching the villainous descriptions. If one’s character is that black, I cannot write them out of their trouble.

Books by June Marie W. Saxton

Dancing with the Moon

Beckon

Into the Second Springtime

Pirate Moon

I Believe!

This book is dedicated to my mom,

Pamela Porter Weston.

Through the goodness of her life—

Mom’s timeless caring, teaching, and ministering,

I am able to conceive of angels.

She’s always been mine.

Chapter One

I sat on one of the big rocks near the Porterville Cemetery, remembering. I looked at the empty boulder next to me, envisioning Sabrina and the way she looked the day I first met her. Of course I was smitten, what guy in his right mind wouldn’t have been? Sunlight kissed against her dark nutmeg curls, exposing fiery embers of secret auburn highlights. I doubt she even knew that a tint of red was in her hair, although her nose and cheeks were freckled with sprinkles of cinnamon.

Her eyes were hazel and enchanting, for light danced in them bewitchingly. Yes, those eyes, shielded beneath a thick fringe of black lashes, they were the hook—the feature that intrigued me most. I once saw them burn to black beneath flames of passion, and that’s a sight that will live in my mind forever—Sabrina trembling, just staring at me with wild eyes of black desire.

Her mouth was full and pretty, and honestly quite delicious. If the exquisite taste of her could be reproduced and put in a jar, the label would say Sabrina Kisses, Food of the Gods. You’re a sap, Brad Manning, I said out loud. But so what? Who cared? Certainly not the cemetery’s residents, for they were past caring about young fools and broken hearts! What was I to them? I was here celebrating my one year anniversary and I had the right to be sentimentally depressed if I wanted to be.

I met Sabrina on June first, her seventeenth birthday. She was taking flowers into the grocery store in Morgan Utah. She was trying to balance too many bouquets at once so I volunteered to help carry them into the store. It was a pleasant service project, and soon I was seated in her crazy old truck, making more floral deliveries. The chemistry was zapping right off the bat, and I was suddenly not so angry with Dad for packing me up and moving me to Morgan, Utah. We ended up here, at the Porterville Cemetery—which was just really weird and delightfully wonderful at the same time, you know? I mean, what girl in her right mind takes a guy to a cemetery the first time they meet? Sabrina—that’s who, and it impressed me.

I couldn’t help being intrigued by her—by everything about her! She was comfortable in her own skin, so sure of herself and what she was about. She was nothing if not genuine, albeit a little bossy and naïve about most things in general, her fierce beauty, for one. I asked her out while we talked, just sitting on these same rocks. That was it—I was addicted to her, and we dated every day or night for five weeks.

A horny toad clawed its way up the rock next to me just then. I remembered last year, the way Sabrina prattled on and on about the little reptiles, even catching one to show me. She liked them apparently . . . so instinctively I stretched my leg out and trapped the beady-eyed bugger just because I could. My foot rested against the miniature creeper with my mind reeling ahead in my melancholy story, and just because I was celebrating such a lousy anniversary solo, I pushed down, feeling the crunch of tiny bones beneath my shoe.

I laid back against the rock, agonizing over the reflections of last Fourth of July. I was supposed to meet my Dad for lunch at a local café. I showed up, and who was he sitting with? Sabrina and her mom, Amanda! I’d never met Sabrina’s mother, but I’d seen her photograph, and suddenly it was all crystal clear to me, my dad and her mother were engaged! While we’d been running around dating and having fun, they had too. The whole scenario was ridiculous, right? I mean, what were the chances of this happening in a million years? That was the most screwed up lunch date of my entire life.

I remember trying to swallow, but my Adam’s apple was all rusty and I just couldn’t make it bob. Amanda poured me a glass of water. The liquid worked like oil to a tarnished hinge, loosening me up a bit. I gauged Sabrina was as shell-shocked as I was. She held my hand under the table and I wrote I love you on her palm. Our parents babbled on and on like unsuspecting idiots, never guessing, not knowing their kids had a little somethin’ somethin’ going on.

I offered to drive Sabrina home after the meal, and Dad thought that was a stellar idea, you know, so we could get acquainted. We walked back to the river bank in her back yard and hugged and kissed and cried together. I’m not going to lie to you, I did cry! Sabrina had all of these morals, and even though I tried to convince her that we were actually really lucky, because our parents were letting us move in together, ha-ha, she refused the temptation of convenient fornication in no uncertain terms.

I can’t keep feeling as strongly for you as I do know and live with you!

Why not? Our parents are giving it a try.

Be serious! Brad, I need to keep myself morally clean. It’s a big part of my faith. I can’t fling temptation into my own path and not trip over it.

Six days later our parents said I do on a pier in my hometown of Dana Point, California. Yes, they said I do, and I wanted to say, I do too, but that’s how my girlfriend became my stepsister. We promised ourselves to just be like any normal brother and sister—and try to fight and hate each other—but Dad took Amanda away on a yacht for their honeymoon and Sabrina and I were left to our own devices. I took her to dinner at one of my favorite restaurants along the harbor, and she slipped up and told me she loved me, I slipped up and took her to the sandy, romantic beach at Doheny State Park where we started kissing, accidentally of course. That’s where her hazel eyes blazed black, and I’ll never forget the way she trembled against the backdrop of the dark ocean at night.

The surf crept up on us, and so did our feelings for each other. I knew this new brother and sister relationship would be trickier than I feared. It was intense that night, driving back to our house in Dana Point. My heart pounded as I wondered what else we might accidentally do at some point. I really hated to take advantage of Sabrina’s high morals, but secretly I also hated not to, if you know what I mean. I was smack-dab in a moral dilemma. Integrity pep talks never mean a thing until a guy’s in a position like this.

Someone was at the house when we got back. My heart sped up a notch, as I was afraid we had an intruder, for we always locked the house. You can only imagine my chagrin when Vidalia Davies, the lippy woman who worked for Amanda and Sabrina at Ashley Floral, came bounding to the door hollering, Where the hell have you two been?

Lots of emotions passed through me at that moment, confusion being a major one. At first I wondered if she’d intended to make the wedding ceremony and I was sorry that she missed it, but she blustered and thumped about how clever she was for convincing our parents that she was necessary in California to chaperone Sabrina and I. At the delivery of this revelation the main emotion firing through me was anger! So basically you’re babysitting?

"Do you need babysitting?’

No!

I do, Sabrina whispered meekly.

Darling, naïve Sabrina was so brutally honest with her babysitter! Vidalia already knew everything about us because Sabrina had confided in her in Morgan, after that terrible, fateful lunch wherein we all learned we’d become one big happy family.

I went into my room and shut the door. I leaned against it, closing my eyes for several long minutes. My ego was bruised, and my conscience stung, possibly because I really had considered frolicking away in a secret affair. The truth was simple, I needed a babysitter, too, if I was going to honor Sabrina’s virtue and stick with our firm resolve to live like a normal family.

I sulked until midnight and then I got over it and decided to make the most of the rest of the week. Sabrina and I decided our parents’ honeymoon was our last romantic hurrah, and when they returned, absolutely no more. We’d have to sever the ties then, knowing it would be extremely difficult. We wanted to savor each precious moment together before that happened. Dragging Vidalia along, we made an unlikely threesome but I actually found myself genuinely liking our new nanny.

Vidalia was as rough around the edges as they come, but she was funny too—definitely an original. I was able to charm the woman a fair amount, and she was terribly sympathetic to our plight. After our day tour of Catalina Island, Sabrina and I got all dressed up to out on the town. Vidalia said, I take it you two aren’t eating at Burger King! It looks more like you’re jetting off to the prom together. My feet hurt and I don’t want to go anywhere, but I’m worried about the two of you keeping your hands off each other. For one thing, she said, pointing at me, You smell good! Then she pointed at Sabrina who was, incidentally, dressed to the nines and making me sweat because she looked so hot, And you little missy are not helping your cause any! I haven’t seen you this dolled up, not even for Easter Sunday! I can’t blame you for wanting to go out on the town with this kid over here, she gruffed, jutting a pudgy thumb in my direction. He’s adorable and quite the smoothest little charmer I’ve come across. But . . . what the hell are you thinking? Don’t answer that, because I already know—you’re not thinking! That’s the trouble with teenagers; they don’t know how to think.

I wanted to laugh out loud at her at that moment! It was kind of funny hearing the blunt babysitter lay down her observations about us, but I could see she wasn’t done yet so I looked questioningly at her, wondering like crazy where she was headed with that particular conversation.

Fate’s been a little bit cruel, and old Vidalia’s not completely unsympathetic to your plight. I’m going to let you go out tonight. Live it up! Just remember that every spell you cast on each other must be broken, and the stronger the spell, the harder the break. If you can walk out of this house, on those terms, knowing full well that it’s going to sting like hell in about a week, then all the more power to you. I want you home by twelve-thirty. I’m not waiting up, I’m not calling, and I’m not going to come find you. You both know what I expect. If you break my trust then the rest of this trip will feel like a sentence in Baby Hitler’s boot camp. Understand?

I remember learning about Shakespearean soliloquies in high school—and that’s what you call a Vidalia Davies’ soliloquy, but she wasn’t finished yet, oh no, for her speech ended with a better zinger than Shakespeare ever thought of. Now I’m not as anciently unaware of tripped out hormones as you think I am. I remember the wild excitement of being young and in love, but I want to give you one piece of advice . . . don’t let the heat in your pants melt the sense in your head!

With those brutal words of advice escorting us out to the car, how far wrong could we stray?

No wonder you have such good morals, growing up with her around!

Dinner and conversation were great that night. We laughed and talked about everything, and then I drove her up to a bluff overlooking the ocean. Sharing my I-pod’s earphones, we danced to Lifehouse’s You and Me. Sabrina looked perfect, wrapped in my arms, swaying to the magic of the moon.

A few days later I arranged for her to portray Jane Porter in the parade at Disneyland. Technically I’m not allowed to tell you what character I play part-time, but Tarzan is a friend of mine, wink-wink nod-nod. I’m pretty proud of my abdominal six-pack, and although wearing a loin cloth isn’t my first choice in comfort wear, the chicks seem to dig it. So anyway, putting Sabrina in the Disneyland parade—that was wild, no pun intended, and the happiest place on earth was pretty freaking ecstatic. The electricity between us was high voltage. I knew I had a problem—I had a big one. I didn’t want to be her brother, not then, not ever!

Feeling as wild and impetuous as a jungle man I said, Run away with me Sabrina. We could live at our house in Dana Point and your mom and my dad can go to the new house in Morgan and live. Nobody will even need to know there’s a scandal.

"Don’t be ridiculous, Brad! Honestly, we’re only starting our senior year of high school! I’m not getting married while I’m still in school—that’s just stupid. I mean, it’s dumb!"

Aside from my intelligence being insulted about six times in one minute, I guess I took her flat refusal pretty well. I jerked the Mustang off the highway and bounded down the beach for an hour or two, just to cool off. Truth be known, I tried to run myself to death so I didn’t have to face the pain of watching her date other guys and go twirling off with any of them, but I found out death doesn’t come easy, and I eventually collapsed into the sand, berating myself for idiocy. I caught my breath and decided to man up.

Dad and Amanda came home from their honeymoon the next day. They didn’t remain blissfully ignorant of our situation for very much longer as Vidalia clued them in. She and Sabrina had kept it from Amanda at first, just so Amanda would go through with her plans to marry Dad, but now . . . well, I guess Vidalia figured they should know.

Dad jerked me by the arm out to the car. We drove down to the marina and Dad laid down the law. Brad! This is insane, do you hear me?

Yes sir, but we had no idea you two were dating each other.

I realize that, and Amanda and I feel terrible about this, but it’s got to stop, do you understand me, Brad? I’m serious! Cut this thing off now or you’re staying in California with Grandpa Haskel. I’m not kidding about this. One misstep in Morgan and you’re on the first plane back here.

That night management called, apparently one of the other Tarzans broke his wrist, and they needed me to cover. So I stayed in sunny southern California alone while the rest of the bunch went back to Morgan. I was good for my word and purposefully left my phone off, not calling Sabrina, or even chancing a text, fearing any message would be intercepted anyway.

I drowned my sorrows beneath lots of adrenaline rushes; surfing, parasailing, sport fishing, and a few crazy parties with my friends. I let myself flip over every bikini on the beach, and I lied to myself like the world could heal my broken heart. After waking up with a bad hangover, I realized that a pounding headache did make the heartache go away. Being bad didn’t suit me, and after the first week, I mostly found myself at home, manically exercising or doing yard work. I spent two nights at Grandpa’s, finishing a car model.

Nearly three weeks later I flew into Salt Lake City. That was the first I’d seen Sabrina and it was really awkward. She still didn’t know our parents knew anything about us because they hadn’t said a word to her, just me. I guess Dad figured that if I straightened up there wouldn’t be a problem, but really, they didn’t need to talk to Sabrina, for the fates were taking care of her just fine. (Yes, that’s right . . . you do detect a hint of sarcasm.) Sabrina’s broken heart was practically better than new, and there was a new man in town.

Seriously, when I say man, you should believe me! He was twenty-five and used to work for Sabrina’s father back in Raymond, Idaho. He made his move the same night I came back to Utah, and presto-chango, no problem for Sabrina to revere me as anything other than a brother after that night. Chantry Cantrell was a super-charged white knight on a powerful, bionic steed. His armor was gleaming and wonderful, and I was just a kid in a loin cloth—with airbrushed ripples enhancing my physique. Chantry didn’t need enhancing.

In fact, so brilliant was he that he turned down a twelve million dollar professional baseball contract, just to take a coaching and teaching position in Morgan High School. So awesome was he, Chantry was the recipient of the Pac-10 Conference New American Hero Award. A fifty minute documentary highlighting his successes in collegiate baseball was produced and circulated throughout the United States, and possibly even Japan and Puerto Rico. Sabrina was his draw, apparently. He’d waited patiently for her to grow up, and just as she was nearly there, he sensed a little somethin’ somethin’ going on with us, and he felt compelled to make his move.

Chantry is six foot seven, for crying out loud! I’m five foot eleven. I can’t compete with that! I have a great tan, but Chantry’s half Shoshone . . . um . . . gee I wonder which one’s revered as the bronze God? Sabrina once swooned, Chantry’s so incredible! He’s smoking, smoldering hot and I’ll never get tired of looking at him. Yes, he’s tall, dark, handsome, sizzling, smoking, smoldering, and on and on. Chantry took the phrase tall, dark, and handsome to a new level. His eyes are black and his manner is often broody and mysterious. That drives women nuts! My eyes are blue and I’m never broody. I sulk occasionally, like right now for instance, but it’s not the same thing, as it drives women nuts in a different way . . . like they want to spank me and put me in timeout.

To top it all off like a fat red cherry, Chantry is a great guy! I’m serious; he’s trustworthy, honest, sincere, patient, witty, talented, capable, all of it! My sister couldn’t have found a better husband, for Chantry Cantrell really is the hero type. You heard me . . . I said husband. The offer of marriage was apparently not dumb, stupid, lame or ridiculous while rolling off his satin tongue, and they were married in March during spring break, nearly three months ago. Of course there was a little controversy with the fact that he was her history teacher, but so awesome is Chantry that he was able to skillfully guide the school, community, and the universe to support them in their plans for a blissful eternity.

I didn’t think I was so bitter, but I just remembered squashing the poor little horny toad, right in the height of my pity-party. I moved my leg and the limp little creature fell with a reverent, dead-sounding thud to the ground. Now why can’t I be one of those swaggery gruff guys who can step on lizards with reckless abandon and not feel bad about it? Search me, but now here I am, digging a shallow grave between two rocks, burying an innocent reptilian corpse and feeling like a black-hearted villain.

Speaking of villains, did I mention Larielle Pritchett? Back in November she shot my beautiful sister Sabrina. Chantry Cantrell saved Sabrina, basically. He drove her down from a mountainside just after a flash flood washed the roads away. I told you he was the hero type. I meant it! And Sabrina really is a special ward of the universe, as the fates were trying their darnedest to tend her. A selective finger of lightening hissed from the sky and killed Sabrina’s would-be assassin. I’m certain that steam rose from my birth-mother’s charred body during the remainder of the storm, but . . . that’s a story for a different day.

In the distance, down across the grassy green valley, I saw vehicles pulling into Chantry and Sabrina’s new residence. The home was Sabrina’s graduation present from Chantry, and he gave it to her just last night after the family celebration at our house. Amanda was nearly busting out of her skin, aching to be a fly on the wall when Chantry unlocked the front door and carried his young bride across the threshold. We’d all been in on the surprise for weeks, but as usual, Sabrina was clueless. I could only imagine her surprise! This morning the Cantrell’s are hosting a birthday cookout for Dad and Amanda, Chantry’s parents, Sabrina’s Grandpa and Grandma Ashley, Vidalia and her new husband Phillip Masters, Vidalia’s spindly sister, Vandaline, my Grandpa Haskel, and me.

It was time for me to wrap up my pity party, but first there was something I had to do. With my head bowed reverently, I said, Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to pay our last respects to this poor little horny toad, who innocently met with chaotic peril earlier this morning when he became trapped beneath a shoe. The wee creature’s untimely demise has caused sorrow in the heart of the perpetrator, and he solemnly swears to never harm another creeping thing unless he himself is in imminent danger of a bite or sting. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, we’ll mourn this lizard for our sorrow is just. Not exactly Psalms, but poetic enough for a three inch reptile.

I walked away, chuckling at my idiocy. Of course I’m theatrical, that’s my job. I was feeling better and my heart was lighter. I guess I just needed to take a mopey-dopey timeout before moving on.

Chapter Two

Sabrina’s grandpa, Joseph Ashley, was helping Chantry flip pancakes. It was serious business with these Idaho boys, let me tell you! I’d never before seen folks get so excited about it. Chantry said they were cooking to Aunt Jemimah standards, and I was like, Why is she coming to breakfast?

Phillip and Dad were manning the hash brown grill while Randy Cantrell cracked eggs into a Dutch oven. Grandpa Haskel played the part of overseer, just looming around, making pleasant conversation. I stood next to him just to have a place in the world.

Good morning, Brad. Out celebrating all night, were you?

I thought about my gloomy pre-dawn hours at the Porterville Cemetery. Could a pity party really be classified as a celebration? Well, I hedged, trying to look mischievous and full of big ideas.

Hey now, that’s my boy—you’ve just got to live with zest and imagination while you’re young enough to handle it!

I smiled at Grandpa Haskel. He was a splitting image of Geppetto, complete with bushy white brows, snow-topped head, and wire rimmed glasses. He was an animator for Disney—had worked on masterpiece greats like the Aristrocats, Robin Hood, Sleeping Beauty, One Hundred and One Dalmatians, Alice in Wonderland, Sword in the Stone, and on and on. He was teaming with personality and passion for the magical moments in life. He would be so sad to learn his great grandson was a dud. I set a mental goal to un-dud-ify myself before another minute passed.

Vidalia went thumping by with a large planter in her hands. Let me get that for you Vidalia.

Oh thank you, Brad. Sabrina’s had her eye on this big planter at the shop, but it would have overwhelmed their old apartment. I figure she’ll be thrilled to own it now.

We knocked on the back door. Sabrina flung it open, squealing instantaneous delight at the offering. Oh Vidalia!

I peered through a tangle of healthy green leaves, trying to maneuver inside my sister’s new house without doing damage. I was highly camouflaged—like a moving bush. I felt like a hunter in a cartoon, sneaking up on Sabrina’s coffee table. I set the large offering down. Happy Birthday, Sabrina.

Her dimples popped and she grabbed her head in her typical, excited fashion. Oh Brad! Can you believe all of this? She swept her arm around her new living room, still struggling to take it all in.

The guys and I helped Chantry move all of this stuff in here. I’ve actually been here a lot the last few weeks. I’m at least a dozen up on you, Sabrina.

Oh well, what else is new? Would you mind carrying this into my bedroom? I’d like to see how it looks from the plant ledge in there.

I followed her like a good servant boy, hoisting the heavy planter onto a built-in ledge above the window. How’s that?

I love it!

I turned around to see if she really did love it, and I noticed a whole flurry of rose petals scattered on the carpet near the bed. Looks like you christened the bed with a proper ceremony.

Sabrina blushed and stammered, not knowing what to say. She tossed her head back and forth. None of your business!

Yeah, but we razzed Coach when we saw the rose petals scattered across your pillows. Very romantic, your husband. I’m sure Danforth and Trey will tease you about it, too. Gear up.

Amanda waddled from the hall. Chantry’s mother was right behind her, as well as Sabrina’s Grandma Ashley. Hi Mom, I called. She smiled at me warmly. I call her Mom to her face and refer to her as Amanda around other people. It seems strange to get to have a mother, but Dad really found me a good one this time. Too bad I had to wait until I was seventeen to get her. I hugged her petite and very pregnant frame. How are you feeling?

Huge! Honestly that’s how I’m feeling; grotesque and engorged—ready to pop.

Maybe you’ll have this kid today—on Sabrina’s birthday.

I’m ready.

It’s too wild, really. I always wanted a mother and siblings, used to pine away for them when I was a kid. It’s so weird that I’m getting all of that now, just as I’m ready to leave home—kind of makes me want to stay. Does this baby have a name yet? Or am I going to have to keep calling him Baby Stewie? My reference to the Family Guy’s ugly kid usually made Mom flinch.

Poor Amanda! I managed to sabotage every name she came up with. She was leaning toward BR names, since she and Dad had Brad, Bree (which is what they call Sabrina) and Sabrina’s twin brother Brian. Brian died at birth, but Mom still refers to him like he’s sitting with us around the dinner table, and who’s to say he’s not? The last seven months were spent hearing her suggest names to Dad, Brekenna, Brooklyn, Brielle, Brandi, Bridgette, Brynne, and then she found out it was a boy, and I heard lists like, Bronson, Bridger, Brayson, Brandon, Brighton, and Brig . . .

The women filed into the guest bedrooms, eager to continue the tour, but Sabrina and I were still standing near her enormous planter in the bedroom. Happy anniversary, I suggested wickedly.

Wow. That’s heavy, isn’t it? Our lives have come a long way in one year. Sabrina smiled, her pretty mouth turning pleasantly. Her freckles were skipping across her nose in a merry manner and I couldn’t help grinning at her.

"Yes, a long way . . . one year ago, if you’d have told me that I was meeting my future I probably wouldn’t have believed it. But now, here I am with a mother, a sister, and a very tall and dashing brother-in-law, the incredible Mr. Cantrell, and I am about to meet a new little brother. That’s a major year, I guess."

"Oh you and the incredible Mr. Cantrell—you be nice! Chantry’s my man."

So I’ve been told. I couldn’t help digging, just a little.

Sabrina’s nose wrinkled at me. I have a graduation present for you. I let my whole face light up like a little kid on Christmas. Oh Brad, you’re so dumb! She retrieved a wrapped package from her closet and handed it to me.

I tore the paper and ribbons to find my portrait, the one Sabrina sketched of me one year ago today. I was lounging on one of the rocks at the Porterville Cemetery. On our first meeting I didn’t know Sabrina was such an artist. She showed the portrait to me about a month later, and at that time I asked her for it. No, she said, always and forever I want to remember how you looked on that day. Apparently she no longer cared.

Thanks, I said flatly. Really Sabrina, you shouldn’t have.

Chantry insisted. She pinched her lips together, trying to reign in raucous laughter, but I choked and we blasted together at the sick humor of our twisted history.

You’re too kind, I said robotically, making her laugh some more.

"You’re such a good brother to us that we want you to have it," she answered just as plastically.

I have a confession to make.

What’s that?

I was at the cemetery this morning.

Suddenly the merriment faded and Sabrina sobered, looking pained and sorry. Brad—

And I did something I’m ashamed of.

What?

I smashed Mushu. You know that little dragon that guards your ancestors? I killed him—on purpose.

Why on earth did you drive all the way up there to kill a harmless horny toad?

Because I’m a very bad person.

Sabrina’s eyes rolled, Oh for crying out loud!

I just went up there to get some closure.

We’ve gone over this nine hundred times. I’m married, Brad! And I love Chantry like a husband and you like a brother and friend.

Hence the dead horny toad, I got the short end of the stick. It was funny and dumb, sad perhaps.

Sabrina breathed in slowly. Move on, Brad. She stepped around me, making her way to the kitchen.

Done, I whispered.

The Cantrell’s new lawn was nice, and several quaking aspen provided shade. Chantry motioned me over to his grill. Raise your right hand in the oath, he said. "Now repeat after me, I promise in the name of all that is golden, light, and fluffy, and known as pancake, that I shall do my best." I repeated the words while the others laughed. Chantry handed me a spatula and went inside for a minute.

Through the window I saw him slide his arms around Sabrina’s waist and swing her around gently. He loved her so well I could surely not fault him for that. He came back out of the house carrying extra chairs and Sabrina followed with two pitchers of orange juice.

Here Breezy. Sit in this chair; it’s got the birthday girl’s name written all over it.

Thanks Chantry, but do you need me to help cook something?

No cooking allowed on your birthday.

Cover your ears, Vidalia! Phillip called. This young buck is making the rest of us look bad.

Don’t tell me to cover my ears, you damn fool! Why don’t you open your eyes?

Phillip winked at his new bride. Wow, this really had been a year for weddings! Vidalia and Phillip were married last October. They were teenage sweethearts, separated by Phillips stint in Viet Nam. Vidalia went through one failed marriage to a bum, and then hit a good one, but her second husband Keith died of cancer only months after their wedding. Phillip’s first marriage to a Vietnamese girl was a shambles, being destroyed by cultural differences and his old alcoholic tendencies.

The fate-torn couple had miraculously been reunited in California last summer as Vidalia chaperoned Sabrina and me. I’ll never forget that night because Sabrina and I felt like the chaperones. A few days later Vidalia rode back to Utah on the back of Phillip’s Harley Davidson. Now they drove his and hers bikes, and I spied them parked in the driveway while I flipped pancakes.

Grandpa Haskel offered the blessing on the food when everyone was ready. He loved to pray and remembered to bless each dear soul and their cousins before saying amen. I was ravenous!

Chantry handed Grandpa Haskel a plate. Sorry this isn’t a little blue tea plate, but perhaps you can make magic on red Chinette?

I love disposable dishes and Chinettes are indubitably the best.

Breezy always talks about eating popcorn and cookies off your little blue dishes.

Haskel smiled broadly in Sabrina’s direction. She brings me honor by remembering our adventures together, she does. And Chantry, has she mentioned our supper of cucumber sandwiches and sliced tomatoes?

Yes! Sabrina interjected, I told him I found your tomatoes to be a delicacy of bursting red—a sumptuous gift from the garden of goodness.

Haskel’s eyes sparkled. "As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what she said! And Chantry, it was that kind of delightful talk that merited her one shiny automobile for school, and lovely new furniture for her stunning home! Continue to error on the side of spoiling your bride, for she’s deserving of it, every bit." He clapped his hands together enthusiastically.

I love your Grandpa Haskel, Amanda said near my ear. That little man totally rocks.

You should hear him sing Lady Gaga.

Mom smacked me on the seat of my pants and called me a smarty. I couldn’t really argue with that.

We were cleaning up tables and chairs when Amanda’s water broke, and that rewrote the rest of our day. Dad loaded her into the car very quickly, instructing me to stop at the house for her bag. I don’t why women’s bags are so prerequisite to having children, but it seems to rank right up there with boil some hot water.

Ride with us, Chantry offered. Surely you’ve been out all night—I’m worried about you driving.

I consented and they picked me up about thirty minutes later. I climbed in the back seat of Chantry’s jacked up, candy-apple red Dodge truck, and tried to catch a few winks on our way to Ogden, but Sabrina was excited and jabbering. Oh my heck, I cannot believe this!

Yeah, our new little brother is making his grand entry to the world.

Your mother looked terrified to me, Chantry said, looking into his side mirror, weaving in and out of heavy traffic on the freeway.

Well . . . the last time she went through this experience she had mixed results, Sabrina answered. I lived, but Brian—ooh, poor Mom! That must have been so awful. I can’t blame her for having anxiety over it.

"Yes, it was awful, Chantry said, and his mouth pulled into a tight line. The whole valley took the news like a fist to the gut."

Oh yeah, I forgot you would remember that.

I was just a kid, but I do remember it. I also remember standing in the weeping rain at the cemetery before the tiny casket was lowered into the rocky Raymond soil. It was sad and the only bright spot in the whole thing was the fact that you were wailing from your Dad’s arms, letting the whole world know you were alive and well. Chantry kissed Sabrina’s hair, mumbling something soft that wasn’t meant for my ears so I snuggled against the seat and tried not to listen. Or look.

When we got to the hospital, Amanda was in a birthing room and we all joined Dad for the wait, exiting whenever nurses came in to check on her progress. The hours passed, one, two, three, and nothing too exciting happened. Then in the fourth hour, stuff started moving and Chantry and I were shooed into the waiting room. Amanda requested Sabrina stay with her. I want you with me, Bree.

Chantry played snake on his cell phone and I zonked out for a few zzz’s. After my two hour nap, Chantry shook my shoulder. I looked up to see Sabrina, barreling out of the delivery room doors. She was wearing scrubs and crying. My heart hit the floor before bouncing again into my chest. What’s wrong?

He’s beautiful!

Oh, so these were jubilant tears? He’s okay?

Oh Brad, he’s beautiful! He’s so perfect! Chantry gathered Sabrina in his arms at the good news. "Chantry, it was so awesome! I’m telling you, seeing that little life come into the world—it was just so amazing! I want one."

Chantry said something against Sabrina’s ear and she smiled, nodding her head. His hands then slid in a protective manner over her lower abdomen, and I realized she must be pregnant. I was in on their secret, but I wouldn’t let on. I’d be all smiles and act surprised when they got around to telling people, but I must say, the incredible Mr. Cantrell didn’t waste any time. Oh well, Sabrina seemed ecstatic, and my own Grandpa Haskel said Chantry should give Sabrina everything she wanted.

Dad came out of the doors then, and he was crying too. Gee, this birthing business was tough stuff—the woman must not be the only one who suffered. Dad, are you alright?

I’m great! Your brother is amazing.

When can we see him?

Ten minutes. That’s what the nurse just told me. They’re just cleaning him all up and assigning him a beanie to keep his little blond head warm.

He’s a blond?

He looks like Brian—that’s what Mom said, Sabrina interjected. He’s so cute!

Does this damazing child have a name? I had fashioned a new word, welding damn and amazing together at Christmastime last year. It stuck and I couldn’t break myself of the habit now.

I’ll let Amanda introduce you.

Soon we crowded into a room. Amanda held a little bundle wrapped in blue. Meet your new brother, Brad. She turned him around so I could see and I got a big lump in my throat. I couldn’t help the tears that stung against my eyelids like hot darts, for all wrapped in soft flannel lay the little brother I always asked God to give me. As a lonely boy I used to play along the shoreline at Dana Point, hoping to find a baby had washed ashore from a shipwreck or something. It was one of my childhood fantasies and it all came flooding back with a wallop. I wiped against my cheeks with the back of my hand.

Baby Stewie? I asked, trying to divert the attention away from my emotional reaction.

This is Porter James Manning. Isn’t he handsome?

Porter? Chantry and I asked in unison. That’s not a BR name.

Mom shook her head, her golden hair spilling against her pillow like sunshine on snow. No, this is Porter, named after my maiden name and your dad’s middle name. He’s a perfect representation of both of us, I think.

He looks like Brian?

A little bit—but look at this chin and his mouth, Amanda said, trailing a finger softly against my brother’s little face, Doesn’t that look just like you and your dad’s?

I didn’t know, but he was great looking little man. Sabrina and I reached out at the same time to touch his tiny cheek. It was sort of awkward, but good too. This baby welded us together like a real family. Suddenly I saw Sabrina with new eyes. She was my sister.

Chapter Three

The sounds of soft coos came from the nursery. It used to be Sabrina’s suite, but now it belonged to my little brother. I loved the sound of saying my little brother, and said it a lot for personal satisfaction. The décor had been painted into scenes of The Hundred Acre Wood, compliments of Grandpa Haskel. Not every kid had a real Disney animator paint authentic murals on his walls, but this wasn’t just any kid! This was my little brother.

I stepped around to his basinet and lifted him out. Hi Porter, how’s my little buddy today? He squirmed against me. What? You need your diaper changed? That’s why you have a mommy, but you have a big brother to take you to her. That’s right, I cooed like a lunatic. Geez, I didn’t even care if I sounded sappy. My little brother and I found Mom in her room. She smiled when she saw us. I told Porter and he squirmed some more, happy to know he was loved.

I wasn’t eager to leave for California, and I dreaded every passing day, for it took me closer to my departure. While my friends couldn’t wait to get out of Morgan to face life on their own, I yearned to stay and be part of Porter’s reality. I knew I’d now cry when I left and probably get homesick a lot.

Amanda fed the little guy and then she gave him a bath. His gross looking umbilical stump wasn’t off yet, so he couldn’t submerge and really enjoy it. You’re gonna like it when you can dunk under, I told him. I’ve already bought you some fun tub toys. It’s going to be awesome! Maybe I’ll get you some snorkel gear for Christmas.

You’re the most attentive brother I’ve ever seen.

Do Porter a favor?

Amanda’s honey colored brows rose expectantly.

Don’t let him grow up all alone. Have another kid soon. It sucks being an only child—just ask Sabrina.

Your dad and I feel the same way. We will try.

I don’t want to leave Morgan now.

I know. Come home often Brad. This is always your safe harbor, you know?

Thanks for being the mother to me that my own mom chose not to be.

That afternoon I went to the school and watched Morgan’s American Legion team whoop up on Bear River. Sabrina was keeping the team book in the dugout. She’d become the mother of the team, which was hoot since she was younger than some of the players. My good friend Danforth Wycliff MacL’main was on the pitcher’s mound and doing well, throwing fast balls, curve balls, and quirky knuckle balls. Trey crouched as catcher with Justyn playing first, and Dawson Gregory manning the shortstop position. They were my group, basically. Sabrina’s best friends, Lyndi, Tahnee, and Delphinia Blue sat by me on the bleachers.

Lyndi and Trey had a little somethin’ going on. Every time Trey performed well, Lyndi said, Don’t hate me but that was epic.

Shut up, Tahnee finally requested. Enough, already!

See, now you hate me even though I asked you not to.

I don’t hate you.

"But you do think my man is hot? Epically hot?"

Whatever. Tahnee’s eyes rolled. I think Sabrina’s man is hot.

Sabrina’s man is a man, I piped. Pretty sure Trey just started shaving last semester.

Whoot! Whoot! Sour grapes from Brad, he’s jealous because Trey’s Lyndi-licious girlfriend is no longer available, Lyndi teased. You should have fought harder for this diva. She thumped herself on the chest.

Delphinia laughed at the exchange. You guys are funny.

Delphinia was born with down syndrome and her beautiful spirit was easy to love. She made me feel better just being near her, and I suspect she had that effect on a lot of people. She was one of my first solid friends when school started last year. I asked her to homecoming, and it sort of started a dating heyday for Delphinia. A girl like Delphinia is guileless and willing to take you for exactly who you are. I didn’t want the stress of asking a girl and having her think we were going steady or something. I was the new kid, and that can be dangerous—because you’re fresh meat in a stagnant pond. I hated to end up in some chic’s permanent lunch box like tuna on rye.

Danforth threw three strikes on the third batter and Chantry clapped from the dugout, taking easy strides toward third to coach the bases as the Trojans went up to bat. He nodded at his players, letting them know they were doing well. Justyn was leadoff batter and watched for the signal. Coach Cantrell fired an interesting string of motions toward him and Justyn nodded, then adjusted his hat and stepped up to the plate. The ball was wild, whizzing over the catcher’s pad, smacking into the backstop with a clatter. Delphinia jumped. I smiled at her.

The pitcher looked frustrated. Chantry clapped his hands, encouraging Justyn to launch one, but also to buoy up the pitcher. Come on. I was impressed with his coaching abilities. I saw Sabrina grinning in his direction.

Our coach is nicer than anybody’s coach, Delphinia said. His name is Chantry and I call him Mr. Cantrell. Sabrina married him and I was in her line. I held flowers.

We all stood together, didn’t we Delphinia? Tahnee asked.

We had new shoes and new dresses and Sabrina made our flowers at Ashley Floral because she works there.

That’s right, Lyndi said.

Brad was in the line too but his flower was stuck to his tuxedo. He was Mr. Cantrell’s Best Man.

Lyndi grinned impishly. Yes, but standing next to Chantry he looked more like the Best Kid.

I find absolutely no humor in that remark, I said.

The ball came whirring toward the plate and Justyn connected with a powerful smack, driving the ball toward a hole between the left and center fielders. He boogied to third, sliding beneath the baseman’s tag. Morgan fans held their breath at the call. Safe! The umpire cried. Chantry nodded, clapping roughly. Trey stepped up to the plate, watching for his sign. He nodded at coach and bunted, the ball rolled haphazardly down the first base line, hopping and skipping like a tired track star.

The pitcher scooped it up, throwing to first. Trey was out, but Justyn scored, so the bunt worked nicely on that play. Delphinia however, was not a fan of such strategies. For darn sakes Trey! Next time you hit that ball harder! Like Justyn did!

We chuckled softly. Did that make you mad Delphinia?

Yes! Trey needs to swing that bat. No more of these whiffly hits!

Epic RBI, Trey, Lyndi called.

Bryce stepped up the plate, digging his cleats into the sand, trenching his feet in an itchy stance. Come on Bryce! Delphinia hollered. Don’t do it like Trey!

Trey’s head bobbed out of the dugout. Cut me some slack, Delphinia, sheesh!

Lyndi winked at her boyfriend.

Trey! Coach hollered. Get your head in the dugout and your mind on the game!

Trey’s head disappeared from view and we snickered softly. Hmph! Lyndi whiffed, pretending to be miffed. "Coach Cantrell’s always telling the guys to keep their minds on the game. I want Trey’s mind on my game."

Shhh, Tahnee threw an elbow into her friend’s ribs, always taking every sport extremely seriously. Her commitment to utter focus was excellent.

Bryce swung twice, missing. Delphinia buried her face in her lap. Her melodramatic reactions were just as entertaining to me as the game. The pitcher’s head came up, as his confidence climbed back up and dusted itself off, but Bryce nailed a solid hit on the next throw, bashing the pitcher’s self-esteem to bits.

Danforth was cleanup batter, stepping to the plate fourth in the lineup. He was a solid kid with a barrel chest and big arms. Let’s go Dan! I hollered.

Let’s go, let’s go, let’s rodeo! Delphinia called, charming the opposing fans and our crowd alike.

Danforth fouled the first pitch off to Timbuktu. That one’s in the river, the umpire chirped pleasantly.

Danforth looked back to Chantry for guidance, reading the signal. He looked like he was going to bunt and Delphinia was having a nervous breakdown, protesting the whiffly hits when Dan connected solidly, smacking a line-drive with a nice single.

One away, one away, one away! An annoying mother from the opposing team kept chanting. Look for a double play!

If only she had a megaphone she could really rub me the wrong way, Lyndi whispered. It wasn’t the woman’s words, but the shrill tone of her voice that worked like sandpaper against the sunshine.

To Lyndi’s surprise—and all of ours, really, Delphinia stood up and hollered, Quiet lady! We don’t want our boys getting out, can’t you see?

Tahnee’s cheeks colored and she quickly turned Delphinia around, forcing her to sit down. Fold your arms Delph and pretend you’re in church!

"I can’t cheer reverent-lee and quiet-lee," Delphinia muttered gloomily.

Chantry gave me a wild look, imploring me to control my friends but I just shrugged, grinning. What could I do?

With Dan on first and Bryce on second, Dawson Gregory swaggered to the plate, spitting like a big-leaguer and adjusting his cup. Hey Dawson, they make special creams for that, Lyndi called. Blessedly the batter ignored her. The pitcher threw a hard ball. Swing and miss.

Aah, Delphinia moaned reverently.

The pitcher wound up, delivering a screwy-looking knuckleball. Or maybe that was a screwball? I was fairly new to baseball, but at any rate, Dawson swung . . . and missed. Oh, Delphinia sighed quietly.

Dawson cast a worried look back at Chantry. Confidence! Hit the ball, Daws! Let’s go— He motioned the proper form for a good swing. Follow it through, come on! The tall coach clapped his hands together in his typical way. Meanwhile, Bryce took a long lead off of second, baiting the pitcher into flustered throw. Bryce took off for third and Dan shot to second. A game of cat and mouse ensued. The second baseman whizzed the ball to the third baseman and so Bryce hit the skids and skedaddled back toward second, while Danforth scampered awkwardly to first. The overzealous third baseman chucked the ball back to the shortstop, hoping to trap the fleeing mouse, but the throw was too high and so Bryce shot again for third and Dan thundered to second. This little chain of events delighted Dawson and he forgot his worries and swung hard on the next pitch, catapulting the ball over the fence in left-field. We sprang to our feet, and I noticed Chantry go vertical in some sort of glory-hallelujah leap, for Dawson’s batting slump was over!

Bear River’s coach called for a timeout and walked out onto the pitcher’s mound to parley with his players. Soon the frustrated pitcher traded spots with the first baseman and the new pitcher warmed up on the mound. A few of the warm up pitches were wild and Delphinia complained, I wish Mr. Cantrell would send a batter up while these bad balls are coming.

Lyndi grinned patiently. Delphinia, Chantry can’t call any batters until the umpire says.

Then somebody should tell the umpire to say.

A junior boy, Jentz Call, was the next batter up. The new pitcher’s arm was very accurate in striking Jentz out. Oh that pitcher was just tricking us, Delphinia said sadly. He’s good.

Two away! Two away! the shrill fan called.

Denny Francis was next and the pitcher hit him in the shoulder. That riled Delphinia and she flew to her feet, crying, That’s a bad sport! Be nicer to Denny next time. His little sister has bad eyes!

Tahnee’s cheeks flamed red beneath the muffled laughter of the crowd. You’re too honest, Delphinia.

I’m supposed to be honest.

Yeah, but I hope you don’t get us beat up.

Mr. Cantrell won’t let anybody hurt us. He’s big.

Well . . . Delphinia had a point there. Baseball with Delphinia was definitely a riot! Anything was apt to go zinging out of her mouth, and her passion for the sport was undeniable. Do you like baseball, Delphinia?

Yes I do!

You’re usually kind of shy—but not at baseball games?

Nope. Not when I’m cheering.

"Well I think you’re the fan of the century. Will you let me buy you a chocolate shake after the game? Or would you like a cheeseburger from Steph’s Drive-in?

Can I have both?

Sure, whatever you want.

Can Tahnee come too?

Absolutely! We’ll have a triple date, I guess—just me and my two best girls.

And Lyndi can come too, Delphinia persisted.

Sorry Delph, I’m going to Ogden with Trey because that’s how I roll, but don’t hate me for it.

Don’t you be mad at Tahnee and me, Delphinia goofed. We’ve got Sabrina’s brother! Me and Tahnee do our own rolling, thank you very much.

Aydrick McCabe popped a few balls skyward, three of them flying foul before he adjusted his stance, drilling a low line-drive toward third. Denny zoomed for second, flying headfirst into the bag to keep from being tagged out by the quick throw of an agile third baseman.

A sophomore boy I didn’t know very well rounded out the line-up. He ticked the ball one direction and the other, and in-between his batting attempts, Denny baited the new pitcher into throwing the ball back to second a few times to keep him on base. This boy is getting a very long turn, Delphinia observed.

Tahnee’s shoulders rolled with quiet laughter. Oh Delphinia—you’re a real gem.

Come on! The real gem hollered, forgetting about reverent-lee and quiet-lee cheering. Get a move on this game! I’m hungry!

The crowd stifled outright laughter and the umpire shot an amused glance over his shoulder. The sophomore looked toward Chantry, begging for help. Chantry gave a simple head nod of confidence and one hand clap, which meant, Come on now!

The ball whizzed in and the bat connected with a sharp crack! The sophomore took off running, leaving fiery streaks on the baseline. Denny scored. Aydrick made it to third and the sophomore grinned from first, eager to run the bases. That brought Justyn back to the plate, and the anxious mother from the other team whined about the Trojans hitting around the batting order.

Justyn was setting his feet in anticipation of a pitch when Delphinia hollered, Time out!

To Tahnee’s embarrassment, my chagrin, and Lyndi’s dubious delight, the umpire