Brothers

  "This place is so cool. It has so much character. I'll bet these worn brick walls have some good stories to tell." She turned back to me with a smile that made me think, Jesse was right. A shiny star had dropped from the heavens right into our lives.

  "Yeah." I nodded. "Plenty of stories. Some good. Some bad."

  "Bad?"

  She looked at the forge. Flames roared inside, making it look like a clay covered dragon, snorting fire through its one big nostril. Then she scanned the tongs and hammers on the wall. Some were tarnished with age, and hanging, as they were, against the whitewashed brick wall, they looked like medieval torture implements.

  "On closer inspection, there is some dangerous stuff in here. But I guess that makes sense in a shop where you make knives. It's not exactly a florist's shop or bakery, is it?"

  I shook my head. "Not exactly. We've added a few things, a few power tools and safety measures, but otherwise, it's pretty much the same place where my great granddad made his blades."

  "I can't imagine what that's like—having a long line of family where everyone is connected by a skill."

  "It has its ups and downs. Most people grow up and start to find things they are good at and things that interest them. Jesse and I had our futures planned long before we took our first steps."

  "Ah, I see where that could be sort of limiting. I guess I was just thinking about having a strong family connection, you know, people who are part of your history."

  "True, that part is cool." I put down my cup and motioned for her to follow. I walked to the shelf where I'd left the knife I was working on. I had already pounded out the blade. While it was still in its crude form, I would use the forge and hammer to draw out the tang.

  "Huh"—she stared down at it on my palm—"I can see where it looks like a blade on this side."

  "Today, I'm going to pound out the tang on this end. It's the piece of metal you see sandwiched between wood in the handle."

  "Oh, right. So that's what it's called? A tang." She smiled. "Almost sounds dirty."

  "Kind of does, now that you mention it."

  I headed toward the wall of tongs and pulled off the one I needed. I couldn't hold back a smile as I heard her footsteps following behind me around the shop.

  "I'm going to assume that the wild looking oven is not for cooking pizza," she said over my shoulder as I headed toward the forge.

  "No, but Jesse and Sundance have toasted marshmallows in it a few times. This is a forge. I'll heat the metal to white hot so that I can pound it into shape." I pinched the blade end of the knife in the tongs. Joelle watched with interest. I had to smile again.

  "Are you always in this happy of a mood when you're about to light metal on fire?" she asked.

  "Only when I've got a really cute spectator watching over my shoulder. Do you want to try roasting some steel?"

  "Heck yeah. Can I?"

  I motioned to the pair of gloves on the hook by the forge. "Pull those on your hands."

  As she walked to the gloves, I couldn't stop my gaze from lingering over her form, her long slender back and smooth hips, finishing in a perfect apple bottom. Even the way she moved made me hold my breath.

  I pulled my eyes away and pretended to be focused on the fire as she turned back around and pulled on the gloves. She stopped next to me and held up the gloves. They looked comical on her hands with her thin arms trailing out of them. "I think I could fit two hands in one glove. And maybe even a foot."

  "Yeah, not sure if they'll be safer or more of a hazard. Tell you what, I'll help you. Go ahead and take them off. I'm afraid they'll catch fire and you won't even notice until they burn halfway because they are nowhere near your fingertips."

  Joelle pulled the gloves off and returned them to the hook. And shallow asshole that I was, I once again took advantage of the scene.

  "O.K. I'm ready to do this. Where should I stand?"

  As soon as she asked, it dawned on me that my own devious mind had slipped this past me without me even knowing it. There was no way for me to show her how to hold a knife in the forge without me getting close to her. Real close. Close enough that I could feel every muscle in my body tighten with the thought of it. But my student was waiting, with an enthusiastic parting of her lips, an expression that was not lost on me either. I was an asshole, but I'd be a bigger asshole if I told her just to forget it. At least that was going to be my rationale.

  "Uh, you stand right here in front of me."

  Joelle stepped around, but was understandably wary of the angry red hot glow coming from the forge. She backed up, and her bottom brushed against me. I clenched my jaw for a second to remind myself that I had no right to react physically.

  I couldn't stop myself, though, from breathing in the scent of her hair. I'd stuck some soap in the bathroom before she'd gone in to take a bath. It was the same bargain brand soap that Jesse and I used, but somehow, it smelled like expensive perfume on her. Her silky hair brushed my face as I leaned forward to help her hold the tongs.

  Joelle was concentrating hard on the task in front of her, which helped me focus too. I had to shut down the man side of my brain. Joelle didn't make that easy. My hands covered hers as she gripped the tongs. We pushed the steel blade into the fire. Instinctively, she leaned back against me to avoid the heat on her face. Her back settled against my chest, and after a few minutes, she relaxed in the circle of my arms.

  She had a good solid grip on the tongs, but I kept my hands over hers. I told myself it was for safety reasons, but I knew that was bullshit. Damn that Sherry and her fucking sixth sense. She took one look at Joelle and knew that having her stay with us wasn't going to be a good idea.

  "Zach," she said over the roar of the flames.

  "Yeah?"

  "My face is melting."

  I held the tongs, and she ducked out from under my arms. It was both a relief and a disappointment.

  Her cheeks were pink from the heat, and it brought out the gold specks in her brown eyes. "I can now say that I stuck metal in a forge. I can also say that I was a big wimp about it."

  "You did great for your first try. And this forge can be pretty intimidating when you're standing in front of it."

  Joelle tucked her hair behind her ear. For the first time, I noticed a fading hickey on her neck. I made too big of a point of looking at it, and she discretely pulled her hair back off her ear. The pink in her cheeks darkened again, but she didn't bring up the mark on her neck. Something told me it had to do with the jerk she left back home. I thought about Jesse's comment last night, about his urge to keep her safe, and I knew exactly what he was talking about.

  I pulled the blade from the fire. It glowed white with heat. I walked it over to the anvil and placed it across the top. Joelle stood a few feet back, with her arms folded and her face full of interest. Normally, I wasn't a big fan of people hovering or watching me work, but I would have been happy to have her stand around all day. I lifted the hammer and began to pound.

  Joelle startled at first but eventually moved closer to get a better view of the molten metal on the anvil. I turned the knife back and forth after ten blows to keep it even and flat. The clang of the hammer was absorbed in the thick brick walls, but it was still not an easy sound to get used to if you were new to it.

  I motioned with my chin to the pair of headphones on the wall. We used them, occasionally, when a bad hangover or long night out made the noise unbearable. Joelle walked over and took them off the wall. She pulled them over her head, dropping her long bangs even lower on her forehead. It was hard to tell her age. She looked young, maybe early twenties.

  I pounded the metal. The reverberation pumped up my arm, making me work harder to mold the piece to the right shape. I glanced up only for a second and noticed that Joelle was no longer watching the piece of metal pinched between the tongs. She was watching me, my face, my arms, my hands.

  The metal was cooling enough that I needed to head back to the forge. I lowered the hammer. The sudden lack
of sound was as loud as the clanging. I turned back to the forge.

  "I'm in awe," Joelle said as she took off the headphones and hung them on the wall. "That takes a lot of strength." She stepped closer. "I know this is bold." She reached up toward my bicep. "But do you mind?"

  It took me by surprise, but I managed to stutter out a 'go ahead'. Her fingers curled around the back of my arm and squeezed. "I guess it makes sense that you would need arms of steel to hammer steel."

  I laughed. "Guess so."

  She glanced toward the door. "I saw some bread and eggs in the refrigerator. Mind if I make us some breakfast? Or have you eaten? I'm starved."

  "Shit, what kind of host am I? I put on coffee but didn't even think to ask if you were hungry. And of course you'd be hungry. Eggs would be great. And the aroma might penetrate my brother's beer soaked dreams. He needs to get his ass out of bed and get to work."

  She pointed her thumb behind her. "Great. I'll get it started."

  "Sounds good."

  I watched her walk out, a spring in her step that once again made me smile. And that's when it occurred to me. It wasn't just the luscious lips, the breath stopping curves and the eyes . . . holy hell those eyes. It was the girl. She'd just gone through what seemed like an ugly bunch of shit, with an abusive guy, a guy so creepy she'd jumped a train just to get away from him. But even after all that, she was full of spirit and humor and smiles. It wasn't just the way she looked. She was the whole damn package. Maybe I wasn't such a one track minded asshole after all.

  10

  Jesse

  The shower didn't do enough to wash away the effects of staying out too late and drinking a few more than necessary. Every morning that I got up feeling like shit, I told myself never again. No more staying out late and guzzling beer when I had to get up the next morning and pound steel. So far, I hadn't listened to myself once.

  A pretty voice was always nice to wake up to and Joelle's was exceptional. Especially when she was singing. She was doing something in the kitchen, something that was making my mouth water.

  I stepped into the kitchen. Joelle was stirring eggs in a frying pan. She had on the jeans and a sweater. I missed seeing my flannel shirt wrapped around her. Delicious was the word that came to mind, only it wasn't all about the aroma swirling around the room.

  Joelle heard me enter and flashed me a smile as she looked up from the stove. "Morning."

  "That voice of yours is a whole lot better than an alarm clock."

  She gasped. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you with my silly crooning?"

  "Not at all. My stomach woke me. It told me—there's something real good happening in the kitchen so get your sorry ass out of bed." I walked over to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup.

  "I hope I don't let your stomach down then." She added some salt and pepper to the scrambled eggs.

  "Anything I can do to help?"

  "Nope. I've already let Zach know they're almost done."

  Bear barked once from the back stoop. I walked over and pushed open the screen door. "Guess you were smelling those eggs too, buddy."

  "Is it all right if I put a spoonful in his food bowl?" Joelle asked.

  "He'd be insulted if you didn't."

  I sat down at the kitchen table with my coffee and watched with great interest as Joelle walked to Bear's food corner with a spoonful of eggs. She stood over the bowl and blew gently on the eggs to cool them. My day had barely started, but I figured watching her purse those lips and blow on those eggs was going to be the best damn thing to happen all day. Aside from hearing her sing again.

  Joelle patted Bear and laughed as he sucked in his treat with one snort.

  "Do you always sing when you're cooking?"

  As she tucked her hair back behind her ear, I caught the pink in her cheeks as she focused on the frying pan. "I can't believe you caught me singing again." She glanced toward my feet. "For someone wearing big work boots, you walk like a ballerina. I didn't hear one footstep in the hallway."

  "I was trying to avoid noise." I pointed to my head. "Too long of a night."

  "Then I apologize again for the clamor in the kitchen."

  I leaned back in my chair. "No need. That smile of yours has already wiped away any of the ill-effects of too much drink and not enough sleep."

  Joelle turned shyly back to the stove. "And to answer your earlier question about my singing—" She reached for a plate, piled it with eggs and carried it to the table. I knew I was staring like a fool, but she was hard to look away from.

  "When I was young," she continued as she filled the next plate. Zach walked into the kitchen, and she set a plate down for him. "Lolly, the woman who raised me, would tease me for always singing. No matter what time of day and no matter what I was doing, even if it was some drudge-filled task like washing dishes or finishing math homework, I would sing."

  Zach had entered in the middle of the conversation, but he listened with interest.

  Joelle pulled out the third chair and sat with her own plate of eggs. "To tell you the truth, that habit of singing and humming all the time had vanished in the last few years. Guess it's back."

  "These are the best damn eggs in the world." I shoveled another forkful into my mouth.

  "Glad you like them. They are my specialty. In fact, they are my only specialty."

  "You've mentioned that Lolly raised you." Zach leaned forward and took a piece of toast from the plate.

  "She did. She was awesome, brimming with charm, and she had so many sayings and chants to go along with every turn in life. I always talk about her raising me, but she was the only mom I ever had. My real mom was only sixteen when she had me. Lolly was an emergency room nurse, and one night, a girl walked in sickly and thin and crying. She was carrying a baby swaddled in newspaper. It was me. Lolly, who had more compassion than ten people joined together, took her in. Even though she didn't have much herself. Most of her money went to her own grown son, who was constantly in trouble. Rory, that was my real mom's name, took off in the middle of the night, leaving me with Lolly. Lolly tried to adopt me, but she was unmarried and didn't have much to her name, so she stayed my foster mother until—" Her voice trailed off. "Anyhow, I figure if my mom hadn't abandoned me and left me with Lolly, I would never have lived to see the age of two."

  Zach sat forward for a napkin. "Lolly sounds like she was quite a woman."

  Joelle looked at him with an expression that was pure admiration. Damn my brother for always knowing exactly what to say.

  "She was." Joelle grew quiet as she stirred her eggs around, seemingly losing interest in them. "I was in my senior year in high school," her quiet voice broke the silence. "Lolly was working the night shift in the emergency room. I'd spent the evening studying for a math test and I fell asleep on the couch with my book and notes piled on my chest. The phone rang and startled me so bad, my note cards flew in every direction."

  Almost as if he'd sensed the emotion in her tone, Bear walked over, sat down and rested his big head on her lap. I slipped Zach a look, which he returned with the same disbelief. Our dog was head over heels in love. Who could blame him? I was watching her tell the story, and the whole damn time I had to fight the urge to circle around the table and pull her into my arms.

  She patted Bear's head. "I can remember looking at the clock on the wall. It was two in the morning, and I thought, who the hell would be calling at this time? Then the terror struck, that flash of fear when you remember that middle of the night calls are always bad news. I tossed my book away and made a clumsy grab for the phone. On my way to answer it, I'd somehow managed to convince myself it was just Lolly calling to tell me she would be later than usual or that she was having coffee with friends after work. But the man's voice on the other side of the phone shattered those hopeful moments." Joelle had to work hard to lift her gaze to us. She favored each one of us with a faint smile. "You two are so damn polite, just stop me when I'm boring you."

  I reached across and took her hand. It
was a simple gesture, not one I'd planned or given any thought too, but something about the move caused Zach to tense up next to me. I passed it off as him just trying to be boss and keep control of things.

  "Like I told you last night, there isn't one damn thing about you that's boring." I let go of her hand and flicked a quick sideways glance my brother's direction.

  Her throat moved with a swallow as if she was working up the words. "The man on the phone was a police officer. Lolly had been helping the paramedics as they rolled in a gun shot victim. Before the glass doors slid shut, a man walked in with a shotgun and fired a bunch of rounds. Lolly's protective instinct kicked in, and she draped herself over the bloodied man on the gurney. She saved him but she took a bullet in the back. She died a few minutes later."

  Zach and I had the same reaction. Stunned silence. I was the first to find my tongue. "Shit, Joelle, that story is something else. I was just expecting something like a heart attack or maybe a car accident, but shit . . ."

  Joelle took a deep, steadying breath. "Losing her was like having every light in the world go out all at once. I guess that was why it was so easy for Bobby to fill the hole in my heart. I just needed someone, anyone. Only it wasn't long before I realized he couldn't fill my heart. He could only keep me from being alone. It wasn't long before I realized that being alone would have been far better." She forced a smile, it wasn't her real smile, the one that lit the room, but the other smile. The one people wear when they are trying to hold back the hurt. "That's why you two are so lucky to have each other."

  Zach put down his fork and sat back. "Yeah, even though I have to put up with this knucklehead every day, not sure I could do life without him."

  I tossed the crust of my bread onto Zach's plate. "Backhanded compliment but I'll take it."

  Joelle's chair scooted back. "Well, I've rambled on enough. I'll clean up the mess I made."

  I got up. "Nope, you cooked. I'll clean. Besides, I'm in no hurry to get out to the shop."