After a breakfast of French toast and sliced fresh oranges, Boone filled his backpack with what he'd prepared for lunch. He'd had a brief window of opportunity before he'd left for Rob's restaurant the night before and had taken full advantage of the time to get as much accomplished as he could. All that was left for him to do the following morning was basic assembly.
They drove to the hill, and found Brian without any trouble, waiting at the prearranged spot. He had them practice, for the first hour on the bunny hill, what they'd learned the day before; then headed them over to a steeper, longer slope.
After they got off the chair lift and gathered at the top of the hill, Shannon suddenly remembered that they were having company for dinner, but had completely gapped telling Boone. He was none too pleased at hearing the news just then, but at least she hadn't waited till five minutes before they were to arrive before informing him. Now, as well as having to focus on the lesson, he was going to have to plan a suitable meal for double the people he'd expected to feed. Mildly pissed at her, he headed the board down the slope, just needing a few minutes to himself. They watched as, yet again, he made it to the bottom without falling.
"A natural, I tell you." Brian commented.
"Yeah, a natural idiot," Shannon said. "He's been reading up on it; no wonder he's better at it than us. I saw his book last night. If anyone needs an "Idiot's Guide" to anything, it's Boone, fucking dick." She muttered the last two words under her breath.
They waited for him to rejoin them, when he did the morning's lessons proceeded.
Most of the morning passed without incident. The three of them all enjoying the experience and doing their best to follow Brian's instruction.
Unfortunately, Shannon ploughed into a guy late in the lesson. She'd been yelling at him to get out of the way, but he was wearing a PMD, and the volume must have been up high enough that he didn't hear her. They both went down in a heap and rolled a fair distance down the hill.
Boone and Andrew watched from the bottom of the slope, until both Shannon, and her unwitting victim, sat up on the hill. They headed for the lift as Brian descended to her position. By the time the two reached them, the other guy had already skied off, and Brian was dusting her off.
Boone could tell she was embarrassed, so didn't try to pull the whole 'concern' thing with her. "You want to pick a guy up Shan; I think there's better ways to do it than attempting to send him to the hospital. How'd you tell he was even your type before you flattened him?"
"Funny," She made a face at him. "Stupid idiot, they shouldn't allow morons like him on the hill."
Boone and Andrew exchanged a glance; of course she'd be blaming the other guy.
Brian had already determined what mistake she'd made that led to the board getting away from her, so he explained it to her now.
Boone narrowed his eyes, looking at her while Brian talked; there was a mark high on her left cheekbone. When the guy finished, Boone asked her if she remembered anything hitting her face.
"My face," she put her hands up to her cheeks and started to feel around, "No, not my face! Why are you saying that, what's wrong?"
"Stop," He chuckled at her reaction. "You've got a red mark on your cheek that's all."
Her hands fell to her sides.
"But, I think it's going to bruise, Shan." Boone pulled his glove off and reached out and grabbed her chin softly, tilting her head, assessing the minor damage. He also used the moment to admire how beautiful she was.
She was good at hiding things, but Boone could tell that she was still a little shaken by the collision. He glanced up at the sky and guessed the time as shortly after noon. 'You're tired.' He told Andrew.
'No, I'm not.' The boy frowned, not looking at Boone, guessing that if Boone was telling him this silently there was a reason for secrecy.
'You are if I say you are.' Boone metaphorically mentally kicked him, under the table.
"I'm kind of tired," Andrew finally got it. "Can we break for lunch now?"
At the bottom of the hill, Brian automatically headed for the same building they'd eaten in the day before.
"We're not going to the restaurant?" Boone asked, innocently.
"You mean you didn't bring lunch?" The man seemed a bit distressed. He'd been looking forward to whatever Boone had prepared for that days' noon meal, having described, in great detail, to his wife the night before what the guy had pulled out.
"I brought lunch." Boone assured him, grinning mischievously. He handed his snowboard over, so the guy could lock it up, and headed for the car to retrieve his backpack.
He'd made grilled shark steak sandwiches, on whole grain buns, with tarragon and dill sauce. There were raw veggies with a low fat dip, and for desert, bite sized pieces of fruit for scooping up the honey drizzled yoghurt.
Brian looked up at Shannon, "Can I keep him?"
"Hands off, he's taken." She rested her hand on her husband's thigh, squeezing it. 'God, but I love you.' She smiled at him.
'And they say a way to a man's heart is through his stomach.' He smiled at her, shyly.
They finished the rest of the day, by the end of the afternoon Boone and Andrew were actually doing small, minor tricks with their boards, and Shannon had finally gotten the hang of the thing. Brian figured that by the end of the next day they'd all be pretty equally proficient.
He extended an invitation to his house for dinner to them for the next night, although he added the disclaimer that the food wasn't going to be anywhere near as good as Boone's. Boone told him with a smile, that he wouldn't share that particular admission with Brian's wife.
They parted company, agreeing to meet tomorrow at the same time and place as that morning.
They stopped, once again, at the market and the liquor store, Boone picking up the ingredients for that night's dinner that he was missing.
She hovered around the counter as he made up a batch of his oatmeal, pecan cookies, reaching into the bowl as he put it to one side, snagging a nut loaded finger full of cookie dough.
"Hey," he exclaimed, smacking her across the knuckles with the wooden spoon.
Shannon laughed and retreated from arms length with her prize, pulling bits of it off and popping them into her mouth.
She was seated now at the kitchen table and watching, fascinated and more than a little worried, as Boone sliced some washed, unpeeled potatoes. He was turned away from the counter, talking to her, not looking at the flashing blade as it cut even, regular slices, guiding the knife by touch alone. She had no idea how he did it, the quickly moving blade, and his seeming inattention, frightening her. He finished the one he was working on, and grabbed another, repeating the process, still enthusing to her about their day. He reached out for another, but encountered empty space and turned back to his work, surprised that he'd cut them all without even realizing it. "Oh, I'm done," he muttered.
"How is it you haven't severed all your fingers by now? You are such a klutz usually." She'd made the comment before.
"Good knife skills, I guess. Maybe I owe it to Locke for starting me off right." He shrugged.
"You ever wonder if he's still alive?" Shannon questioned about the sole survivor who'd voluntarily stayed behind.
"Oh, he's alive, I'd know it if he wasn't. After you, he was my closest bond. Even given how far away he is, I'd feel it if he was gone." Boone looked contemplatively at the floor. The pair stayed silent for a minute, lost in their musings.
"Can you still throw a knife? I know you were really good at it." She broke the quiet.
"I can still throw mine, I don't know about just any knife, though." He practiced the skill sporadically, whenever the urge came to him.
"Try now," she gave him a lopsided grin, and challenged.
He frowned at her, and started rummaging through the knife drawer, hefting different ones in his hand. "This is pretty juvenile, you know." He pointed out. "If you ask me to ride a bike with no hands next, I'm gonna refuse."
Shannon chuckled at his analogy.
Finding one that felt like it had decent balance, he asked her exactly where she had planned for this demonstration, or possible catastrophe, depending on the outcome. He wasn't about to fling it into the drywall of the rented chalet; that was even if he could hit the broadside of a barn with the thing.
She thought for a minute, as did Boone. "Fireplace log," they said in unison, laughing that they'd both come up with the same answer at the same time, Boone getting caught up in her fun.
They headed into the living room. Andrew was playing video games with the headphones on and was oblivious to their presence. Shannon pointed over to the pile of firewood. Boone gave her one last look of amusement, shaking his head and rolling his eyes; then flung his arm out, flicking his wrist and releasing the knife. The blade came to rest, stuck an inch or two in, in exactly the spot for which he'd aimed.
Andrew jumped and turned from the T.V.; he'd caught the motion in his peripheral vision. He looked to his right, at his parents, Shannon appeared slightly chagrined, Boone completely horrified, then to his left, at the knife stuck in the log, not more than a foot from his head. His mouth hung open in astonishment. He turned back to them, and gave them a nasty look, removing the sound buds from his ears. "If you're trying to get rid of me, you could have tried something a little more subtle. I think the police would probably rule out suicide, if they found me with a butcher knife stuck in my back." He put the gaming controls down, and stood, looking more than a little upset. "I'm going to my room, to see if I packed my Kevlar vest." He gave them another nasty look as he pushed between the two of them, leaving the room.
"Jesus, fuck. We probably should have told him to move before I threw the knife." Boone grimaced.
"I was sure you weren't going to miss, so I didn't even think about it." Shannon explained.
"Maybe you were sure, but I wasn't. Damn, that was irresponsible. I can't believe I let you talk me into that. Christ, I still can't say no to you, I'm such a doof." He rubbed at his forehead. "I need to go and apologize to him. Oh, my god, I can't believe I did that."
"You finish dinner, they'll be here soon; I'll go apologize." She turned and went up the stairs.
She found him in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed, a pissed off look on his face. "Andy?"
"Don't 'Andy' me." He seemed near tears, his arms were wrapped protectively around himself; he was rocking back and forth.
"It wasn't Boone's fault." Shannon apologized.
"You don't think I already know that? I'm a kid, not an idiot." He shot over his shoulder.
"I just…he was…we were in the kitchen and…" She fumbled for words.
"Stuff it." He was already calming down.
"He wouldn't have killed you, you know." Shannon explained, needlessly.
"I already said I wasn't an idiot." Andrew replied sarcastically.
"I'm sorry. I got him wound up, and," she shrugged "sometimes he doesn't think when I get to him. And then I get so swept up in what I've manipulated him into doing that it just gets out of hand."
"He's flinging knives at me, and you think it's something that 'just got out of hand?' Somehow I've got a different view. And just why are you still tricking him into doing things? He's not your lap dog, Shan, he's my dad, and I need him." He pleaded with her to understand.
"I know, baby," Shannon pulled him into her arms. "I fucked up again, big time. It seemed so harmless, just a little challenge, and it was, nothing bad actually happened. I know I should have stopped him before he threw the knife. I saw you sitting there, but I just knew he wouldn't miss, not Boone. He wouldn't have even attempted it, if he thought there was the slightest change of failure, you know he would never dream of putting you in actual danger."
Andrew pulled away from her. "You really are a terrible mother."
"You're a really good kid." She offered in exchange.
"Yeah, I guess, no thanks to you." He responded.
The doorbell sounded.
"The Cooper's are here." She, thankfully, seized on an out.