He was sitting in front of the computer at his desk the next morning, a spreadsheet of the prior months' financials up on the screen, when she appeared at the doorway. He'd already packed a lunch for Andrew and gotten him his breakfast; the boy was in the kitchen eating.
"Hey," she smiled at him. "Thanks for letting me sleep in."
He turned his chair to the door, smiling warmly. "No problem, you're not used to my hours again yet, there was no point in waking you so early."
She moved to stand in front of him. He reached out with his hands to grasp her waist, pulling her onto his lap. She straddled him, lacing her fingers through his hair and kissing him, hungrily.
"Boone, I'm ready to go, and…" Andrew stood in the doorway and stopped when he saw them.
She jumped up, guiltily, "I, uhm, that is…"
"Hey, bud, so you're ready?" he seemed so casual about Andrew catching them in compromising circumstances, an occurrence that still made Shannon extremely uncomfortable. It struck her as highly contradictory. She'd always been the exhibitionist, and Boone conservative and shy. She supposed it was because he was used to living with the boy, while to her, it was a completely new, and somewhat bizarre experience, to which she was still trying to adapt.
"Yeah, dude, totally ready." He smiled in fun at his answer.
"Shan, can you take him, please?" he asked. "I'm so far behind, with taking yesterday off and all. My bike keys are on the board beside yours. And don't forget to drop off Mr. Perkins' cinnamon buns. They're in the bag on the counter." He reminded.
He'd had his bike set up for two, while hers was a still a single seater. "Sure, of course," she replied.
They grabbed their stuff and headed out to the garage, she backed Boone's bike out onto the driveway and Andrew got on behind her. After stopping at the customers' house they pulled up in front of the school.
She'd gotten off the bike and had her back to the entrance, so she didn't see the teacher approaching. "Mr. Carlyle?" the woman queried.
Andrew had tucked her ponytail down into her jacket during the ride, not wanting her hair flying in his face. She was almost exactly the same height as Boone, and dressed in her leathers the woman couldn't be blamed for not realizing that she wasn't the boys' father.
She turned, and removed her sunglasses. "No."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, the bike and all, I just assumed you were Andrews' dad." The woman appeared a little flustered.
"What did you need Boone for?" she questioned.
"Well, we're supposed to go on a field trip today, and he filled in the permission form, but forgot to sign it. I was watching out the window and thought I'd catch him." She explained.
"I'll sign it, I'm his mother." She reached out for the piece of paper.
"His mother?" the teacher repeated, somewhat skeptically.
"Yeah…" she started.
"But, Shan." Andrew interrupted, "Aren't you Boone's sister?"
"What?" she looked at him, mystified.
"I said, aren't you Boone's sister?" he repeated.
"Well, yeah, I guess." She frowned, not knowing where he was going with this.
"So, that makes you my Aunt, doesn't it?" he persisted.
The teacher snatched the permission form back out of her hand. "Oh no, I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head, "Only a parent or guardian can sign."
"But I'm his mother." She glared at him.
"I…don't know." She looked at them, strangely.
'Look, kid,' she thought at him, 'I don't know what you're pulling here, but if you don't want to go on the field trip, just keep it up.'
'I don't care about the stupid field trip,' he smirked at her, having much more fun at the scene he was causing, than he could possibly have during yet another dull, boring field trip to the zoo. "My Aunt can't sign for me?" he pretended to be close to tears.
"No, I'm sorry Andrew, you'll have to stay behind." His teacher wondered why his Aunt would claim to be his mother.
'Screw you,' Shannon thought at him, "I'm sure he'll enjoy a day in class, much more than a field trip, see you after school, nephew."
She complained bitterly about it to Boone when she got home. He just started laughing. "It's so you." He commented. He refrained from pointing out that she had admitted to being his sister.
"What?" she looked at him.
"You love to do that to people, embarrass them in public, don't you remember the incident that led me to get this." He indicated the silver bracelet on his left wrist hiding the tattoo he'd gotten shortly after their wedding.
"Yeah, I suppose. I'm still pissed at him, though." She shrugged, and indicated his wrist. "I can't believe you still have it, that you didn't get it removed or changed after I left." He'd considered it, but even with her gone, it didn't change the simple truth of what he'd had permanently written on his skin. "Let me see it."
He looked at her strangely, almost a little afraid, she thought to herself, before shaking his head no. He crossed his arms across his stomach, pressing the insides of his wrists protectively against himself, and dropped his head to stare at the floor. She reached forward, and pulled his left arm towards her. In spite of his negative response to her request, he gave no resistance as she turned his arm over. The faint scars started somewhere under the silver band and ran lengthwise up his wrist, mute accusation of what she'd driven him to do. She slid the bracelet off his wrist to reveal "Shannon's", barely marred by the aftermath of the long gone stitches she knew they must have sewn into him. She assumed the right one bore the same marks. She replaced the bracelet and let go of his wrist. He pulled it back against his body and drew a shuddering breath. They were silent for a few minutes as they each dealt with what they were privately thinking. He finally raised his head to look at her.
"I'm sorry, I'm an idiot." He smiled faintly.
"I'm sorry you're an idiot too." She smiled softy back and reached out to run her hand through his hair. She sighed and sat in the extra chair, not knowing what to do with herself.
He tried to get back to work, but her presence made it extremely difficult. He wasn't used to working with someone watching over his shoulder. "I'm trying to find a mistake. I've screwed up the numbers somehow."
"The numbers?" she asked laughing.
"No, not the numbers." He answered, exasperated.
"4, 8, 15," she started.
"Yeah, 16, 23, 42." He finished. "Can't you find something to do?"
"Like what?"
"Well…there's laundry," he suggested.
"I'm sure it'll still be there when you get around to it."
"But most of it's yours! You pretty much emptied your suitcase into the hamper when you unpacked." He protested.
"Most of it's mine?" she mused. "Well then, make sure you're careful not to let the colours run." She warned.
"I'm not your maid." He shook his head at her.
"No, brother dear, you're not, but I imagine you'll wash my clothes." She stood. "I'll leave you alone, to focus on your fascinating numbers."
He went looking for her just before lunch, to see if she wanted him to make her something to eat. He found her in the den, seated on the centre cushion of the couch, where she always used to sit to read before she'd left. She was staring blankly into space. As he approached he saw that she had his letters. Most of them were on the cushion to her right, there were two to her left, and one open on her knees.
The first one was dated November 19th, 2008. It would have been their third wedding anniversary. She'd opened it, expecting it to be a printout, but it was handwritten, as had the other two she'd managed to work her way through. She instinctively knew that the rest would be too. Each one was full of his acerbic wit and sarcasm. There were no pleas for her to come home, no mention of the horror he'd gone through. They were carefully written, no mention of his love for her, his desperate desire for her to come home, that was all evident in what he hadn't written, not what he had.
They all ended the same, not with a wish that she be safe, but with a phrase that turned his wit back on her. "God help the world, now that you're loose on it again, Boone. No "All My Love," no "I Miss You," There was nothing to indicate how he felt. She knew he must have carefully considered each word, before he wrote it.
"Shan?" he looked at her, not getting a response. He tried again, "Shannon?"
"I need to be alone." She didn't look at him.
"Shan, I…" he started.
"Boone, alone means with you not in the room." She still didn't turn her head.
He looked at her silently for a second, then went back to his office; any thought of hunger completely gone.
It was perhaps half an hour later when she appeared at the doorway, "Boone?"
"Yeah," he looked up at her, expecting a comment about the letters.
"I'll be getting to that laundry now." She wasn't looking at him. She looked sad and pensive.
"Okay." He frowned at her as she turned from the door.
He kept a careful watch on the clock, not wanting to miss picking Andrew up at school. At 3:30 he went looking for her, finding her out in the gym. She was on the cross trainer, her eyes were closed as she exercised. He could see the sweat seeping down from her hairline. He laughed quietly to himself when he realized she was wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of his shorts. He waited until she sensed his presence, not wanting to startle her. "All my stuff was in the wash." She explained her attire. "I didn't think you'd mind."
"No, of course not," he laughed again. "I have to go get Andrew at school, do you want to come?"
"You're fucking well right I want to come, the little asshole deserves what I've got planned for him." She replied.
"Oh, God, no Shan, he's a kid, is it really worth it?" He shook his head at her response.
"I'm just going to throw on some jeans, I'll be right back. And we're going to straighten out this whole "Aunt" thing with the school." She shot over her shoulder as she headed for the house.
They stood in the school office, waiting their turn, Andrew sitting on a chair by the windows. They'd waited for him out front. He'd smirked evilly at her, as he'd come out the door, he'd spent the whole day enjoying the memory of that morning's amusement. Boone had added to it when he asked him if he wanted to give Aunt Shannon a kiss hello.
Over Boone's shoulder, she suddenly noticed the teacher from that morning, coming in the door. "Kiss me."
"What?" he was sure he'd misheard her.
"Kiss me," she repeated, "now!"
"Shan," he looked around a little wildly, "this is a school…you don't…"
She grabbed his head and pulled it towards her, kissing him passionately.
Andrew stared at them, mortified. At home, in private, she couldn't even sit on Boone's lap without being flustered when he came in. Here, in his school, she was kissing him like he was giving her CPR!
He finally pulled away. "Shannon, what the hell?" he whispered.
She ignored him, smiling instead at the woman, as if just noticing her. She was staring at them, horrified. "My brother and I just came to pick up my nephew. I hope your field trip went well." She said, innocently.
"Oh, my God," Boone, and Andrew, both groaned.
