Page 19 of Wood Riddance
I’d get there. I’d build my business and make Merry proud.
Cresting the hill, I banked around the south side of the river. Jude would be home, so I headed in his direction. He was painfully predictable. It drove me crazy, but it suited him perfectly. He was the quiet, creative one. Always playing his damn guitar or out hiking in the woods with his dog. He was the complete opposite of Noah, his twin, who was an adrenaline junky. That kid was always climbing mountains, surfing big waves, or jumping out of planes. Since birth, he’d been scaring the shit out of my mother almost daily. He was currently in California, working as a woodland firefighter and ignoring all the family drama back east.
The twins were only four years younger than me, and yet we’d never been close. Despite their differences, they had always had one another and still texted every day. We were lucky if Noah called on Christmas, but Jude always knew what he was up to.
I knocked on the door, and in response, Ripley barked. The mutt was his best friend and protector. Jude had found her in the woods while working at camp last year and had brought her home.
She followed him around endlessly. She’d even tried to climb into the crane with him once. When the door swung open, the first thing I did was give her ears a good rub. She was sociable and affectionate, the exact opposite of Jude.
If a Bernese mountain dog had a baby with a feral wolf, Ripley would be it. But she was a good girl and took care of my brother, so I couldn’t complain when she jumped on my chest and put her paws on my shoulders. I didn’t mind that she was the size of a small horse. Honestly, she was the perfect Hebert-sized dog.
“Running?” Jude asked dryly. His sandy brown hair was cropped short and his round glasses were perched on his nose. Today’s funny T-shirt read:Middle Earth’s Annual Mordor Fun Runand featured a giant eyeball. I wasn’t totally sure what it meant, but it was probably something highbrow and nerdy.
“Yes. You gonna let your big brother in? Maybe offer me a glass of water?”
In response, he shrugged and stepped away.
“Wow. Mom really lowered her standards with you,” I teased, stepping over the threshold.
He punched my shoulder and turned toward the kitchen. Ripley was on his heels the whole way there and sat, watching him with so much love and affection, as he pulled a glass down from the cabinet.
His house was a tiny cape up past the river. He had bought it a couple of years ago, before everything went to shit. It was neat as a pin, as always, displaying his meticulously organized collections of guitars, records, and comic books. It was Jude in every way.
I was proud of all he’d done at such a young age, but it stung a little that my younger brother had become a homeowner before I had. Back in my Navy days, it had barely crossed my mind. Moving every couple of years and leaving Alicia and Merry at home while I deployed made renting ideal. Now, though, I was hitting my mid-thirties and I had a kid. It was time to plant those roots. And I’d wanted to, but that was yet another plan that had been derailed by my father.
After chugging the glass of water, I refilled it and set it on the counter while I unhooked my weighted vest and hung it on the back of one of the wooden kitchen chairs.
“Gus is headed over with dinner,” Jude said, taking a small stack of white plates out of a neatly organized cabinet. “You should stay.”
Pursing my lips, I waffled. I’d told myself recently that I should spend more time with my brothers. But my day had already been long and unpleasant. The last thing I needed was more arguing.
Things between us all had been strained lately. There were six of us Hebert boys. Gus was the oldest, and he’d worked side by side with Dad for years. He’d done everything my father asked of him. Worked every grunt job and bent over backward to please him in the hopes of someday taking over the company. Dad, of course, sidelined Gus in favor of his own brother, Paul. Even so, Gus had remained loyal and dedicated to the business.
Owen was the next oldest, and like me, he’d hightailed it out of Lovewell the day he turned eighteen. He hadn’t so much as spoken to my father in years, and he rarely came home to visit, despite my mother’s frequent requests. He’d made a name for himself as an accountant-turned-corporate CFO in Boston.
Then there was me, the middle child. The ADHD nightmare. The Navy had mostly straightened me out, but clearly, I was still a work in progress.
The twins came next, and they had never been particularly close to dad. Probably because they were so young when our parents divorced. They’d spent most of their time with Mom, and Dad had always overlooked them, instead giving the majority of his attention and money and love to Cole. Not that they minded, they did their own thing, which usually involved getting lost in the woods and Noah coming home with some kind of terrifying injury.
And the youngest, my half brother Cole, was off playing hockey.
Not pro. Semi-pro.
Despite the loads of talent he possessed and all the lessons and coaches and expensive equipment my dad had provided over the years, my brother had not been called up to the pros. After college, he had been drafted by the Boston Blaze in the third round, but he’d spent the last seven years languishing in the minor leagues with a few stints in Europe.
Cole was more likely to be found partying than training, which explained his career stagnation. He wasn’t too far away—Rhode Island, maybe?—but he didn’t take much interest in our family or the business, and I hadn’t seen him in years.
Gus and Jude were close, despite their seven-year age difference. They both worked for Dad and lived for the timber business. Both were still struggling to accept what Dad had done. I was the outsider here, the interloper.
“No thanks.” I shook my head. “Wanted to hydrate before I headed home.”
“Don’t do that,” he said. His eyes were full of sympathy behind the lenses of his glasses. “Stay and talk to us. We live in the same tiny town, yet I never see you. This place isn’t much, but it’s better than your sad apartment. Eat pizza, drink a beer. We can start a fire out back later. Come on, stay.”
By the time he’d finished talking, my chest was tight with emotion. Jude was a man of few words, so those few sentences were akin to an epic monologue for him. And it tugged at me. Things had been so strained and awkward. Especially given how differently we all felt about Dad.
“Things have changed so much. We’re not some big happy family…” I said.
Jude put the plates down on the counter with a heavy clank and stared at me. “But why can’t we be? Why can’t we do things on our terms?”
