WARNING! There is a small mention of suicide in this chapter. It is mentioned only as a "what if" but may cause some mild discomfort.

Chapter 3

I shook my head, still grinning, listening to Claire hum and cleaning up after breakfast. Once the dishes were done, I quickly retreated out of the kitchen, Claire and Sherry having come out to claim it in preparation of this afternoon's picnic.

I nursed the last bit of coffee to give myself an excuse to watch them as they cheerfully discussed what they could make that was "good picnic food". Even catching a bit of Sherry's first lesson in handling a knife and chopping vegetables.

She was adorable with her face scrunched up in concentration; razor focused on her task. Claire guided her first few strokes, correcting her grip on the handle, and watched her with patient affection.

Reluctantly, I drained my cup and shrugged into my tan coat to go assess the wood pile. They had yet to get more than a dusting of snow that seemed to melt on contact with the ground, but he knew they would need to be prepared for a storm or blizzard soon. Mother nature had been merciful to them during the month and a half long trip here and that streak of luck would surely run out.

Scattered memories of the journey from where the train had dumped them just outside of Paducah, Kentucky up the east coast to Maine flittered through my mind. Some parts dark and awash with pain, others multihued and filled with warmth, but always two colors were ever present: deep crimson and brightest gold.

'My girls,' I thought and the warmth was there again blossoming in my chest. I knew without a doubt one of two things would have happened if I didn't have them with me: I would have either ended up drowning in guilt and drink or putting a bullet in my head to stop the pain. God knows those first 48 hours after we had escaped had been some of the roughest of my life. The Night had passed mostly in an adrenaline-fueled blur with a few moments standing out in sharp relief like Claire's smile as she shrugged so nonchalantly while "just surviving" and Ada's scream as she fell. When the adrenaline had worn off the details had started to creep in… faces, names, my whole world had shattered and taken my dreams and confidence along with it or at least I had thought so at the time.

Making my way out to the wood shed attached to the side of the house I marveled again at how strong my companions were. Whenever he had started doubting Claire was right there with her eyes flashing fire and telling him again that she was only there because of his fast actions at the gas station, and Sherry would give him a hug and tell him how happy she was that he was with them.

The shame of being reassured by the small child (who had far more right than he to be a broken mess) had been a blow at first, but it got easier when he was able to help them in return. Not that he was happy when they struggled, he would have traded anything to take that pain from them, but it was nice to be able to give back; to feel useful. They really were his saving grace and he had vowed to do everything in his power to keep them safe.

'I wonder if our other children will have end up with my sandy blonde or their mother's beautiful reddish locks?' The thought pushed its way to the front of my mind, unbidden, startling me with its wishful undertone before the full implication hit me.

My ears and face blazed with heat. 'Where the hell did that come from, Kennedy?!' I asked myself in shock. 'A little presumptuous don't you think? You're not even dating, let alone married!'

As my panic subsided, I decided it was all the fault of my earlier line of questioning with Claire. I forced myself to shove everything to do with that thought into a box and get back to the task at hand.

I noticed that it had been pretty well stocked, but having never really lived in a place that relied on oil and wood for heat the half empty bay closest to the house looked worrisome and I set off to remedy that.

There had been no axe in the wood shed, so I headed to the barn. We had only opened it once when we first arrived to pull the truck we bought in New York in there and it had been well after dark. Claire had insisted that we wait until dark to drive through town. Apparently, this was basically Mayberry where everyone knows everyone and a strange vehicle in town was gossip-worthy.

I unlatched the main doors and swung one side open. The hinges groaned a bit in protest yet moved with surprising ease for a long as Claire said this place had been vacant. However, now that I thought about it, her brother may have come here first before leaving for Europe. I made a mental note to ask her about it when I went inside.

Opening the other door wide, I ran a quick eye over the Chevy parked there. It was baby blue with a white top and actually comfortable seating. I smiled at the memory of how excited Claire had gotten when she had seen it and confirmed the price with the seller.

They had saved up via odd jobs, and what they had been able to withdraw in Louisville the first few days on the road, roughly $4000 to buy them a vehicle when a regular customer at the diner Claire was waitressing at mentioned they had a truck for sale. It had been his grandfather's and they just found it in one of the old man's shed's. He had been a collector and they just wanted everything gone so they could sell the place. She had made plans to come take a look at it immediately. I remembered coming back to the Hostel we were staying in after my overnight shift and her practically bouncing on her toes.

We had gone to view it (even though I was dog tired at this point) and I remember watching her poke about under the hood and turn it over, her grin getting bigger all the while. She then confirmed again the price and looked at me with her best imitation of "pleading puppy eyes" and asked if we could get it.

My reply was, "you're the mechanic, if it breaks can you fix it?". She had laughed and said that she could so I agreed to the purchase. $3500 for an old 1971 truck that was probably a gas guzzler, but it made her happy. Of course, what she failed to say until we had signed the papers (using our actual names for once) and driven away was that this truck was a 1971 Chevrolet C/K Action-Line and were about as rare as finding a four-leaf clover. It had been well taken care of and had a lux interior. It was also worth about twenty grand.

They had left town a few days after that. Staying only long enough to collect their paychecks and buy some more permanent supplies. We had been living very sparsely until then. Now we were finally moving under our own power and on our own terms. He had been right though; the truck was a gas guzzler…

Looking over the barn showed it was clean, if a little dusty, and in good working order. There were four stalls, a loft, and at the back corner I found another door that opened into what was once a garden with a chicken coup nearby. There was also another wood shed I hadn't spotted right away that had a few axes and a chopping block (an old tree stump) set up within sight of the cabin's kitchen window from my guess as I could occasionally see a flash of reddish-brown hair whip past.

The covered back porch had two chairs on it and I absently wondered whether or not her parents had sat out there watching the young Redfields play when they used to come out here. Another question I'd have to ask Claire.

There were already larger logs stacked in this wood shed and it didn't take me too long to select a few to start splitting. I hung up my coat and got to work. My shoulder would sporadically give a little twinge, but it had healed rather well by now. Claire had taken very good care of it. Honestly, I had no idea how she knew most of this stuff and she'd usually just brush off my questions about it with a wave and a joke about being "indecisive", but it was very impressive.

I was lost in my thoughts and the physical exertion for an unknow time when the sound of a vehicle coming up the long drive reached my ears. Instantly tense and alert I stopped chopping and rested the axe in the block, casually leaning on it with one arm while reaching to my holster with the other and resting my hand there.

The cloud of dust morphed into an old ford driven by what looked to be an older man in a cowboy hat. I left the axe where it was and walked slowly towards the front yard to intercept him. I didn't want him too near the cabin with the girls inside. Even so I was only about 100 feet away when we met.

The gentleman was indeed wearing a worn cowboy hat over gray hair and looked to be in his late 50s to early 60s. He wore scuffed cowboy boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt when he alighted from his truck with a shotgun hanging open over his left arm. His gaze was serious as he looked me up and down and drawled, "hey there, Sonny. What brings you to these parts?"

My hand still rested on Matilda in my holster, but nothing about this guy registered as overly threatening. More like he was protective and reserving judgement for my answer. I opened my mouth to reply when a happy shout had my head swiveling back towards the cabin. Claire was waving excitedly and running out to meet us. All of my instincts warred with me in a panic; I wanted to hide her away from this gun-toting unknown element, yet if I acted on that it would look suspicious. I ground my teeth in frustration and just readied myself to act if needed.

Returning my focus to the newcomer, I saw that he had visibly softened and was even smiling as Claire approached.

"Mr. MacGregor! It's so lovely to see you!" Claire called as she got closer.

The man now identified as Mr. MacGregor shifted the gun off his arm and set it on the seat of his truck. "Well, well, if it isn't little Miss Redfield. How are you doing, sweetheart? It's been, what, eight years since you've come to visit?", he asked and held his arms out.

Claire ran into them and gave him a huge hug. I stiffened a bit, annoyed, but relaxed and took my hand off my sidearm. "How is dear Maggie? And how ever did you know I was here?" She asked him.

MacGregor laughed, "she's doing just fine and will be even happier when you stop by the house, young lady. As for your other question…" he pointed to the smoke coming from the chimney.

I let them catch up for a minute, but something about seeing him with his arms around Claire was really irritating me and I cleared my throat to remind them both I was still here. They both looked my way and Claire broke away from him to come grab my hand and drag me closer. I had to admit that her hand in mine went a long way to soothing my earlier irritation.

She flashed me a smile. "Leon, meet Hugh MacGregor. He's our closest neighbor and has been a long-time friend of the family."

I reached out my hand to shake Hugh's. He reached forward and took mine in a firm grip as Claire finished her introductions, "Mr. MacGregor, this is Leon Kennedy, my.. husband!"

The pause was small and barely noticeable, but it was the title she chose that threw me for a loop. I had been expecting "friend" not "husband". The box I had filed away just a few short hours ago threatened to open and it took considerable force to keep the lid in place.

Hugh looked at us skeptically, then directed his question to Claire. "Married? Aren't a little young there, darlin'?"

Claire got this little smirk on her face and I caught a mischievous gleam in her eye when she slid closer to me and wrapped her arm around my waist, my own arm draping protectively around her slim shoulders (had she always felt this delicate?), further scrambling my thoughts. "As a very wise woman once said to me: 'When it is right, it is just right'," and flashed me a large grin. Her smiles are infectious and I can't help but return it.

The older man threw his head back and laughed loudly. "Figures you would use my wife's words against me!" He managed at last. His next words were cut off though at the sound of the door opening again and Sherry's voice calling out for Claire.

A brief flash of panic showed in Claire's face before the smile was back and she was calling Sherry to come join them. She quickly threw me a pleading look and turned again to address our neighbor. "This is our daughter, Sherry. She is from Leon's previous marriage."

I was mostly lost to where any of this was going, but I nodded dutifully. I supposed since we were both blonde Claire thought we looked enough alike to pass as father and daughter. Since Hugh obviously had known Claire most of her life the "new" elements naturally belong to me as they couldn't be argued.

Sherry reached us and instantly turned shy as she seemed to do whenever we were around unfamiliar people. She fit herself in against Claire and I and I placed my other hand on her shoulder to reassure her we were right here with her. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Claire do the same.

He gave us an appraising look and for a moment my heart picked up and I wondered if he could see through our bluff, but whatever he saw must have convinced him on some level because he smiled soon after. Kneeling down to get level with Sherry he held out his hand to her and introduced himself.

She shyly shook it and looked uncertainly up at Claire. Claire smiled and told her that Mr. MacGregor had been good friends with her grandparents and had known Claire since she was a year old. Sherry's eyes had grown very wide and she immediately asked him if this was true. Delight replacing shyness when he confirmed it.

This prompted Sherry to launch into several questions about Claire as a girl and I couldn't help but be enthralled. Here was a bit of Claire that was new to me. A bit of what shaped her into the enchanting and resourceful woman she was today. So captivated was I that the sound of thunder cracking made me jump and tighten my grip instinctively on my girls. Looking up I was startled to see angry grey clouds moving in.

Hugh huffed out a breath, "that was the other thing I was coming by for. We have a storm moving in and I wanted to be sure the place was locked down properly. You have everything buckled down?"

He surprised me by addressing me directly. Feeling a bit like I was being stared down by one of the academy instructors I very nearly snapped to attention. "I need to shut the barn back up, but I believe everything is order, sir," I replied.

I could see I was missing something in the way his eyes narrowed slightly. Claire piped up just then to cover my naive mistake. "Sherry and I were going to take care of the shutters once Leon finished with the wood, and move the lawn furniture under the eaves."

The older man nodded and said his goodbyes. Claire pulled away from me to give him another hug and I immediately felt a huge sense of loss. I preferred her there, tucked into my side, and safe. 'Get a grip, Kennedy!' I yelled at myself internally, nearly missing Hugh's invitation for dinner the day after tomorrow and the girl's imploring looks.

"Sounds like a plan. I look forward to meeting this Maggie you've spoken of. Especially if my Claire is going to be quoting her." I couldn't help teasing her a bit. Afterall we were married now… and was rewarded by an adorable blush spreading across her cheeks.

With a laugh and another firm handshake, Hugh took his leave, and I slowly came back to reality and my original worry over our preparedness for a storm. We got busy closing up the barn, securing shutters, stacking the cut wood from this morning, and moving the picnic table and chairs under the front eaves. Small pebble like hail started falling almost as soon as we had finished and we rushed into the house all but collapsing on the sitting room furniture before breaking into laugher.

We were all in good spirits until Sherry gave a cry of dismay causing both Claire and I to rush to her and ask if she was alright. "I'm fine, but our picnic!" She whimpered. The sound broke my heart and I told her could always do it once the storm passed when Claire jumped up suddenly and declared we could do it right now. I looked at her skeptically, not following how that was to happen with the heavens currently emptying itself outside.

My heart skipped a beat as she gave me a wink and a challenging smile, "oh ye of little faith. Just you watch." And then preceded to give instructions on moving the furniture about. When we got done with everything Claire asked for it was not only glaringly obvious, but there was something almost magical about what had once been just a cozy living room.

In the middle of the room was spread a white and blue speckled blanket with cushions to sit upon and all of the amazing looking dishes the girls had prepared. There was fried chicken, potato salad, corn on the cob, baked beans, and sliced fruit (the oranges had been cut to look like little bunnies). Several of the random silk plants around the house has been pulled in (stuffed teddy bears tucked under or in them), along with a forest green quilt from the closet, to create the illusion of a green yard. There was a pitcher of iced lemonade with three tall glasses next to it, and a stack of folded red napkins.

Sherry was beyond ecstatic about it all, and I was just (once again) left in awe of this girl in which I found myself now sharing a life (for however long we would be allowed to have it). I knew in the back of my mind that this couldn't last, even as I sat and ate and laughed like nothing else mattered but this moment… and to be honest, nothing else did. For a few precious hours we were a family, happy and content to be with one another.