Hemmingway

“Ugh,” I moan when I walk out of the twins’ nursery and notice he ran. Didn’t I tell him not to? He knew this would aggravate me, but he did it anyway. Warming up two bottles, I slam the cupboard doors because I need a way to expel my frustration. Mumbling beneath my breath about my cowardly man running like a wuss, a masculine chuckle startles me. I yelp, pull a knife from the butcher block, swing around, and aim it in the direction the sound came from. My heart races, and a scowl forms on my face when I recognize the intruder. “Pops! What are you doing here? And why are you sneaking in here like a fucking ninja instead of knocking on the door and warning someone they’ve got a visitor?”

“I rapped on the door, but I didn’t bang on it in case the little ones were sleeping. You were busy slamming cabinets so loudly that you didn’t hear me, so I decided to come in and make myself at home.” Pops leans against the counter, examining me. Feeling like a bug under a microscope, I fidget. For a man nearing his sixties, he looks like he’s in his forties. Ma was the same way. It’s remarkable how they maintained their youthful looks.

“What’s brought you here, Pops?” I’m not trying to be short or disrespectful, but I’m already on edge after what I learned, and I need to get these bottles to the babies before they lose their calm demeanor.

“Is it feeding time?” he asks, avoiding my question by changing the subject.

“Yes,” I reply, then sigh when I grasp the fact that he’s not going to answer me until he’s damn good and ready.

“Mind if I join you, Hemmingway? I miss my grandbabies and it’s been a bit since I’ve gotten to feed one of them.”

“Sure.” I sigh, giving in, not liking that forlorn, pouty look he’s sporting. I’m a sucker, what can I say? “Follow me.” Leading him down the hallway, the sounds of Honor and Haven cooing at the other resounds through the house.

When we cross the doorway, Pops utters, “Well, I’ll be. Isn’t that fascinating? I’ve never seen babies communicate like that.”

“It’s engrossing to sit back and watch them interact. There are times I wonder if they can read each other’s minds or anticipate the other’s mood or movements. They seem to instinctively know where the other is and before the other gets a chance to wail if they’re upset, the other is already trying to sooth them with a touch or coo. It’s astonishing. Makes me miss Master,” I confess, finding my eyes misting at the revelation.

“He misses you too, Hemmingway. He’s been beside himself with worry. He’s going to be happy to see you and know you’re safe. Back home where you belong.”

“Wait? He doesn't know I’ve been found yet? That doesn’t seem fair, Pops.”

“There hasn’t been time to tell him. Their world has been turned upside down in a short amount of time. Soon you two will be reunited and have plenty of time to catch up. Besides, isn’t this going to be a wonderful surprise?”

“A surprise that may get your teeth knocked down your throat,” I warn. My brother is known for his quick temper. He doesn’t always think before he reacts. A lesson our father tried to instill into him, but it never took. Shocking considering he’s the Sergeant-at-arms for the MC, and from my understanding of his position, they’re technically supposed to think things through and come up with solutions before laying down the law.

“I appreciate your concern, Hemmingway, but I can handle your brother. I’ve dealt with his hotheadedness more times than I can count on my two hands.”

“He was most likely placating you, Pops. He typically knows when to reel it in. But when it comes to his family, he loses his mind and doesn’t always follow through with that.”

He looks at me like he’s analyzing me again, then shakes his head. Reaching into the crib, I grab Haven and hand her over to him before picking up Honor. “There’s only one chair in here. Let’s take them into the living room so we can continue talking.”

“Lead the way,” he says, taking a step back to give me room to move ahead of him. “Always let the ladies go first, Honor. After all, they hold our heart and souls and need to be watched over at all times. Ladies in general have a softer psyche that we need to covet. It’s a beautiful thing to witness. Remember this wisdom I’m bestowing on you, young man, it’ll make your life easier by tenfold.”

The last part is more whispered, causing my heart to palpitate in my chest. These are the men I want in Honor’s life as an influence, teaching him how to be a good, and caring man. Whereas he’s right about us being the gentler of the two sexes, he should also remember that some of us are just as badass as men and can take someone down with the blink of an eye. But the moment and advice he’s giving my son is valuable, worth its weight in gold, so I keep my mouth zipped.

I don’t eavesdrop any further on his other recommendations, because I know anything he shares is something he’s relayed to his own son throughout the years, and Gunner is nothing less than an extraordinary person. A man who not only treats women as an equal outside of the club setting but adores most females that enter his life. I say most because if a lady puts herself in a man’s position, by ratting on the club or joining the enemy’s ranks, he’ll treat them like he would any other threat, and eliminate them quicker than one can snap their fingers.

Pops sits on the couch, turning sideways and tucking one of the throw pillows underneath his arm, then gets Honor settled and begins feeding him. I sit on the chair that looks directly at the sofa, plopping my feet on the ottoman, and situating Haven where she happily accepts the bottle and begins feeding.

Pops is content and mesmerized by my son that he doesn’t utter a word to me. After a few minutes of sitting here waiting for him to tell me why he came all this way, I clear my throat, and send him a “get on with it already” look.

A lighthearted chuckle is his response. “Could’ve let me enjoy this a little while longer, Hemmingway, before we have to get into the nitty-gritty behind why I’m here.”

“You’re a big boy, Pops. By now, you should’ve learned how to multitask,” I sass, giggling at the challenge accepted gleam in his eyes.

“Nobody’s sassed me since Ma passed,” he whimsically explains, and it’s now that the blinders come off and I notice the sadness that’s tucked behind his smiles and easy-going banter.

“I wish I’d been there for you, Pops. I couldn’t get leave. They didn’t consider her as my immediate family and denied my request to come home and attend her funeral. I wanted to pay my respects in person. She was special to me. She always saw the light at the end of the tunnel and was there to take your hand before she’d guide you down the dark, dreary path.”

“There’s no one else like her,” he claims, unshed tears obstructing his throat, making his words come out gravelly.

“She was one of a kind. I’ll miss her and remember her with all the respect she’s due. I bet she and my parents are having a party up in heaven, looking down on us and pitying us for having to be down here, dealing with the assholes of the world.”

“I’m sorry for yours and Master’s loss, Hemmingway. It’s a shame that they passed the way they did,” Pops states, feeling my grief as if it were his own, down to the depths of his soul.

Pops and Ma had an instantaneous connection upon their first meeting with my parents. Which was odd, my folks didn’t allow people inside of their snugly, woven cocoon easily. They were protective of one another, as well as their kids, and always scoped new people for months, sometimes years, before introducing us to them and allowing them to become an intricate part of their entrusted circle of friends. Even then, it was low level, and they were watched with a keen eye before my parents would back off enough to let them inside the fold. I’m not sure what caused them to be reclusive, but my intuition says they were burned by someone who was important to them once upon a time. I may never know who those people were, but whoever they were, they did a number on them. And now that I’m a mother myself, I can understand their reluctance, as well as their protective nature.

Whenever my folks and I would come to town to visit, we’d stay with them. When Master spread his wings and joined the MC, I was taking community college courses, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I was still young, and naïve, back then which is why I knew I wasn’t ready to pursue anything in regard to Tyson and my would-be relationship fantasies. In the depths of my soul, I recognized the fact that I needed to find some independence and lose my youthful demeanor. I was still childlike in my way of thinking, and that wouldn’t have been an attractive trait in Tyson’s eyes back then. He needed someone mature, and worldly at his side, holding him up when the weight of his life dragged him down.

Master joined the military straight out of high school, which caused him to grow up during his stint, and it’s where he met his brothers… I think. I could be wrong, he’s never outright told me how they met, but my assumption makes the most sense. Especially since when he’d come home on leave, the clubhouse was his destination. My twin morphed, virtually overnight, from a young, scraggly teenager, to a strong, chiseled man. His drastic transition was the driving force for me to follow in his footsteps. I wanted to bloom the same way he did so I could forge forward with my girlish dreams.

“Thank you, Pops,” I answer, after coming out of my vortex of thoughts. “Have you told Master about their passing yet?”

Pops’ eyes are downcast before he answers. “I did. It’s the reason I didn’t want to add more angst to his sorrow by telling him you were found and rescued.”

“But wouldn’t that have lightened things up for him? This is my issue with what you’ve done, I don’t understand the reasoning behind why you’ve kept me being free a secret.”

“Because then, he’d want to delve into every detail of where you’ve been, what you’ve gone through, and want to see you immediately. We both are aware that when it comes to you, he acts rashly before thinking about the ramifications. The bond you two share would push him to find you, regardless of his own safety or that of his family, and that could have dire consequences. It would put on a lot of people’s lives at risk if someone was to identify him on the streets. Regardless of if I was to answer all of his questions or not, he’d still flee to try and figure things out himself. His protective instincts when it comes to you, is uncanny. He forgets all the others who need him to stick around and be rational.”

“He is hotheaded and impulsive,” I retort. “But I still don’t like it, Pops. It feels deceptive, and he’s already mistrustful of people who hide things from him, this may not come out the way you’ve contemplated. He holds a mean grudge. It takes forever for him to lower his walls and let someone back in that’s betrayed him.”

“I haven’t betrayed him!” Pops’ boisterous shrill has both babies whimpering. Pops flinches and I cringe, but they don’t progress into unruly fits and soon afterward become placid, so he carries on. “Sorry for shouting, but I haven’t, Hemmingway.”

I shake my head, dumbfounded that he doesn't see it. “Put yourself in his shoes and think about how you’d take it.” Then I make a statement that hits below the belt and has him squirming on top of grimacing. “What if someone held that back from you if it was about Luca, Charlee, Gunner, or Ma? Would you view it as someone protecting you, or would you see them as being disloyal by taking the decision of how you’d react away from you? Would you feel they’d robbed you of the relief, and easing your pain from knowing that your loved one is safe and sound, even if you can’t see them right away?”

I feel like a downright bitch bringing Ma into this would-be scene. But she’s the only person I could consider using, outside of his kids, that pragmatically, would accelerate my point, and drive it home with a force that he can’t deflect.

“Shit,” he hisses, this time watching and being considerate of his tone. “He’s going to be livid, filet me, and make me feel every grueling inch of my flesh being severed.”

“Then fry you,” I counter, being cheeky. When I see how upset Pops is, and witness the crestfallen look on his face, I try to alleviate his worry when it comes to how severe the fallout’s gonna be. Knowing my twin, it’s going to be worse than we can fathom. “Eventually, he’ll remember you’re our family, and simmer down, I’ll make sure of it. I just wanted you to backtrack, take a second to reassess how you handled things, and see it from his perception.

“I’ll fix it, Hemmingway. I’ll stand tall and take responsibility for what I’ve done, then I’ll deal with the implosion after he has a chance to ingest it. I’m not too proud to admit when I’ve screwed up. This time, it was a catastrophic mistake. I’ll express how sorry I am and validate his anger. Hopefully, one day, he’ll understand why I made the decision I did.”

“He will. He’s had good role models to show him how it's beneficial to stand by his family’s side when they mess up. Even when it’s a stupendous mistake like you’ve made. He’s learned how to let bygones be bygones and overlook others’ thickheadedness, and misplaced, but well-meaning faults. Even our patriarch can fall from his pedestal every once in a while after misjudging the ledge’s width, before stepping off, and taking the plunge. We’re human, and none of us are perfect. Life would be boring if that was the case. With you voluntarily acknowledging your gigantic fumble, it’ll lay the foundation toward his forgiveness. And he’s a good man, Pops, just like you. He’ll do the right thing after he’s cooled down.”

“You believe that, huh?” he asks, a spark of hope swirling in his eyes.

“Down to the very marrow of my bones,” I insist with no ounce of hesitation, believing in my brother’s ability to be empathetic and lenient. As soon as I punctuate and highlight the fact that it was done from a place of concern and vexation. As a bystander, I can see the flip side of the coin, and am sympathetic to both parties involved.

“As soon as Tyson wraps up with the Aarons, we need to pack up and get gone. Things are heating up between the Alvarez and Crumley organizations. War is on the horizon, and I won’t let y’all be stuck out here in Timbuktu without reliable or obtainable backup. This endeavor is going to tie up all of my resources, which means I’ll have no disposable men to come assist you two if y’all run into trouble. I won’t be able to concentrate on the task at hand. I’ll be absorbed with worry about you two, day and night, fearing that you’ll be spotted and exposed, without me being able to do a damn thing about it.”

While we’ve been chatting, the babies have consumed their bottles and have been burped. The urgency behind Pops’ masterminded proposal means I need to get busy packing our things, make sure they're within our sights, easily reached for a quick escape, and ready to be transported at a moment's notice.

“No better time like the present to get things gathered and crammed into bags,” I suggest, gingerly standing so I don’t disturb Haven who’s fast asleep, and walk toward the nursery and bedrooms. “Chop-chop, Pops, we’ve got shit to do.”

“Feisty, just like Ma,” he reminisces with a chuckle. “It’s nostalgic, Honor, that’s what it is. Looks like my wife’s strong demure and spunky wit will live on through all the ladies whose lives she touched. Their men need to pull their bootstraps up, they’re going to be dredging through some muddy waters.”

His memorandum, regarding our men, has me smirking. They may be stagnate and stuck in a shit creek without a paddle, but once they come out of the murky waters, the make-up will be worth the chaff they felt.