Sticks & Stones
Page 6“Okay, Deuce,” Zane agreed. He liked him already; he seemed like a friendlier version of Ty. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Deuce drawled, grinning. “Come on in,” he invited as he turned and threw his arm around Ty’s shoulders. “Mom’s fluttering,” he said to his brother, trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.
“As long as she’s cooking while she’s doing it,” Ty muttered. “I’m starving. Did you get a new car again?”
“You like it?” Deuce asked.
“No,” Ty answered candidly with a shake of his head and a glance back at the Lexus.
“It has Bluetooth,” Deuce answered with a grin, unperturbed. Ty groaned and shook his head.
Zane walked up the steps behind them, rubbing his hands together to ward off the slight morning chill. He’d pulled the jacket off when they’d gotten in the truck at the last rest stop. He’d known it would be cooler up here, but it had to be a good twenty degrees cooler here than in DC. He spared another look around and shook his head. It was so totally different from any other place he’d been—Washington, LA, Baltimore, New York. Texas. Especially Miami.
Ty stopped at the door and looked back at him. “Welcome to West Virginia,” he murmured as he held the screen door open. The smell of frying bacon and fresh bread wafted out to them.
Zane nodded and followed Ty inside, where it was quite a bit warmer, and the smell of the bread made his stomach growl. “Oh Lord. Fresh-baked bread.”
Ty sniffed at the air as he tromped through the house toward the back, where the dining room opened up into a large kitchen. “Morning,” he greeted as he stepped into the kitchen.
The woman at the stove turned and smiled widely. Ty went over to her and hugged her close, kissing her on the cheek as she patted his back without letting go of the spatula in her hand. She was a tall woman, the top of her head hitting past Ty’s broad shoulders, and her round face was almost devoid of wrinkles until she smiled. Her graying hair had once been the same color as Ty’s, and her eyes were a bright, striking green.
She stepped back from Ty and took his face in her hands, the spatula smacking against his temple. “’Bout time you got here,” she said to him. She looked over Ty’s shoulder at Zane and smiled again. “You must be Zane,” she said as she unceremoniously pushed Ty aside. She went up to Zane and pulled him into a hug as well, just like he was another son she hadn’t seen in some time.
Zane’s eyes widened in surprise, and after a beat he halfway closed his arms around her, not sure what to do. “Uh. Hi,” he said weakly, patting her shoulder gently.
“Zane Garrett, Mara Grady,” Ty introduced with a smirk as he met Zane’s eyes.
“Nice to meet you,” Zane said as she patted his back, oblivious to his discomfort. Then she turned away and bopped Ty in the head with her spatula.
“Ow!” Ty protested with a surprised laugh.
“Shoulda been home months ago,” she scolded. “Sit down, Zane dear, breakfast is almost ready,” she said in a much sweeter voice.
Zane swallowed a laugh, although he didn’t even try to hide his smile. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, pulling out a chair on the far side of the table next to the wall so he’d be out of the way.
Ty sat down opposite him, grumbling. “You got bacon grease in my hair,” he said to his mother as he rubbed at his head.
“Serves you right,” Mara responded. She tossed the spatula into the sink and fished out another from a nearby drawer.
“Where’s Dad?” Ty asked as he made a rude gesture at Deuce. Zane could feel his smile grow wider.
“Went up to the mine early this morning; someone called about some kids messing with the gates,” Deuce answered. At the mention of the mine, Ty tensed visibly, and he nodded and looked toward the back door uncomfortably.
“If he’s gone much longer,” his mother said to them, “I want you boys to go fetch him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” both brothers answered in automatic response. Zane had seen Ty snap to attention for Dick Burns before. He’d always assumed it was some latent response from his military training. But it clearly went back further than that.
He also noticed Ty’s reaction to hearing about the mine, and he remembered what little Ty had told him about growing up here. Ty had always been scared of the mines, afraid of something happening to his father while he was there, and terrified of being trapped in them himself. After his experience in New York and being buried in a dark hole where he thought he’d never see light again, the thought of going into those mines now had to be outright terrifying. Zane had to admit Ty hid it well.
Mara set down a platter overflowing with biscuits, warm slices of fresh bread, bacon, and sausage links. Then she set down a bowl of grits, two jars of what looked like homemade jam, and two pitchers of orange juice. Last came a bowl full of scrambled eggs.
She tapped Ty in the back of the head as he reached for a piece of bacon. “Manners,” she reminded as she wiped her hands on her apron before beginning to untie it. “You go ahead and load up, Zane, you’re going to need a full stomach to deal with these two all day,” Mara advised.
Zane nodded but stood up. “I need to take a quick break first. We didn’t stop much during the drive,” he explained.
“Out that door and first tree to the left,” Deuce told him as he pointed at the back door.
“Put a sock in it, Deacon,” Mara scolded. “It’s the door under the stairs, dear,” she told Zane as she sat at the head of the table.
As he walked out of the kitchen in the direction she’d pointed, Zane got a better glimpse of the rest of the house. It was a typical old farmhouse with scuffed hardwood floors covered by handmade rag rugs. The plaster walls were covered with neatly framed black-and-white photographs; some of them had to be a hundred years old, and some of them were new enough that Ty was wearing his FBI windbreaker in one.
Zane looked at a few of them, stopping for a little longer when he found a photo of Ty in uniform. He looked much younger, and while it was the same hard, unsmiling face he’d seen in every Marine’s photo, there was a hint of something in the hazel eyes that Zane didn’t think he’d seen in Ty before. He couldn’t quite place it. The man did look good in a uniform, that was for sure.
Zane stared at it for a long time before pulling himself away and going to find the staircase.
“Grandpa!” Zane heard Ty exclaim in a pleased voice from the kitchen.
Zane shut the door with a smile. About five minutes, later he stood in the doorway of the kitchen again. An old man had joined the table, and he sat next to Ty, holding his hand and patting it affectionately.
“Grandpa, this is my partner, Zane,” Ty said as soon as Zane sat. “Zane, Chester Grady.”
“FBI agent, huh?” the old man said to Zane with narrowed eyes.
“Most of the time,” Zane admitted.
“Won’t hold that against you,” Chester said. “Yet,” he promised.
“Behave, you old goat,” Mara chastised. “We’ll start without your daddy,” she told the rest of them with a frown. “He better be stuck in a hole somewhere,” she grumbled as she bowed her head.
Zane glanced around the table as he slowly crossed his hands, figuring a prayer was coming, and his eyes stuck on Ty, who looked even more tense than before.
“One of you say grace,” Mara ordered after waiting for one of the brothers to take the lead. Ty looked up, meeting Zane’s eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but the screen door creaked and interrupted him.
“Those damn kids are gonna blow themselves up down there,” the man who entered pronounced as he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on a hook beside the door. “Morning, boys,” he said, as if having his sons there for breakfast was nothing unusual.
“Morning, sir,” both men responded in unison.
“Dad, this is Zane Garrett,” Ty added with a nod to his partner. “Zane, Earl Grady,” he introduced as Ty’s father came over and patted Ty on the shoulder in greeting.
Earl was an imposing man, tall and broad-shouldered. The man made Ty look like the runt of the litter. His graying hair was cut short and neat, and he was clean-shaven and almost as devoid of wrinkles as his wife. Zane decided it must be the altitude.
Earl reached across the table to offer his callused hand to Zane. “Hello, sir,” Zane greeted as he stood to shake Earl’s hand.
“Good to meet you, son,” Earl responded as he shook Zane’s hand. His voice was deep and gravelly, with the same twanging, almost hoarse quality Ty’s was apt to have at times. His accent was more pronounced. “Ty has told us absolutely nothing about you,” he informed Zane as he sat at the other end of the table, opposite his wife.
Zane’s brows rose. He was mildly surprised, first by being addressed as “son” and second by Earl’s comment about his presence. “Ah.” He looked to his partner sitting across the table from him. “You did tell them I was coming, right?”
“Yes,” Ty answered defensively.
“Oh, don’t you worry, dear,” his mother said with a pat of Zane’s hand. “Earl, say grace so Zane doesn’t starve,” she ordered. She bowed her head again as Earl said a few words over the food, and then as soon as he was done she lifted her head and started passing around the dishes. “Eat up,” she invited.
Giving Ty a dubious glare, Zane picked up the serving fork and started filling his plate and then offered the platter to Deuce, who took it with a murmur of thanks and dished out his own breakfast before passing it to his father.
“So Zane, Richard tells me you two have had some interesting times,” Earl Grady said as he took the platter.
“Richard? Richard… Burns?” Zane asked, his fork pausing over his plate. Earl looked up from his plate and raised one eyebrow. “Interesting times,” Zane quickly answered. “If you were reading about them, I guess,” he added.
“Reading about them,” Earl repeated as his eyes traveled to Ty. “That what you been doing, son? Sitting behind a desk and reading about them?” he asked his son.
Ty sighed and sat forward to lean his elbows on the table. “Dad, don’t be silly,” he said with practiced patience and sarcasm. “You know I don’t read,” he assured his father.
Earl smiled slowly before passing the platter on around to Chester. “You like desk work, Zane?” he asked, his voice still mildly curious.
Zane screwed up his face in distaste. “I’ve done more than my fair share.”
“Hell, Mara, I’m just being friendly,” Earl protested.
“You’re interrogating them,” Mara corrected. “Eat your bacon,” she ordered. She patted Ty on the head protectively as he took the platter from Chester and started scooping food onto to his plate. He didn’t even react to the gesture.
Zane wondered if Ty was a mama’s boy. He tipped his head to the side, watching them as he picked out a piece of warm bread, and thought maybe so. Not that he would ever voice that opinion to Ty until he was good and ready to die. He supposed, though, with a father as imposing as Earl Grady seemed to be, his sons would need a protective and loving mother. With a soft hum, he started picking up jelly jars and examining them.
“That there’s plum jelly, and the other’s cherry, honey, you help yourself,” Mara told him. “You like hiking, Zane? I’ve never met one of the boys’ friends who could keep up with them on the mountain,” she went on cheerfully.
“Haven’t done much hiking, I’m afraid, unless you count running around out on the flats,” Zane said as he peered into the jars and finally chose the cherry. “And that was a long time ago.”
Earl and Mara both stopped what they were doing and looked at him in surprise. Chester began to laugh delightedly as he continued eating. Zane glanced among them, waiting for an explanation.
“You’ve never been out on the trail?” Earl asked dubiously.
“Sure I have. Just not in the mountains,” Zane said, glancing between Earl and Ty.
“He’ll be fine, Dad,” Deuce said through a mouthful of food. “If I can do it, so can he,” he pointed out with a tap of his knuckles on the table.
“Gonna be cold out there,” Chester interjected gleefully.
“Maybe you boys should think about not going,” Mara said. She sounded worried.
“Zane’ll be fine, Ma,” Ty assured her, unconcerned as he looked at Zane. Zane shrugged with one shoulder, not sure what Ty wanted him to say. Ty cocked his head and gave him a quick wink, and Zane gave him a small smile in response.
“Well, Zane, you must have proved yourself somehow,” Earl observed wryly. “The last person Ty took on the mountain was Recon. And we carried his ass back home.”
“He got bit by a snake, dad,” Ty said in protest.
“Well, hell, you told the dumbass not to poke it,” Earl argued. Ty pressed his lips together tightly, trying not to laugh as he looked back at Zane.
“I’m betting it’s cool enough not too many snakes will be out,” Zane said dryly. “But I’ll do my best not to poke them.”
“You do that,” Earl said with a nod. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">