Boone was impressed with the selections in the backpack as he laid out their lunch. He told Shannon she'd chosen most wisely indeed. The ice cold non-alcoholic apple cider he poured out from the thermos quenched their thirst fully; their pre-lunch extracurricular activity had left both of them a little parched.
As he opened container after container, making appreciative noises as he carefully peeled the lid back from each one, she pushed the information to the back of her head that she'd simply chosen one of the offered prepacks in the menu at reception, only giving enough thought to her random selection to ensure there be some kind of fish included. When he opened the tomato and garlic sardines with a "whoa" she was pleased that she'd gone to enough trouble to ensure that his precious seafood obsession had been satisfied.
They lingered over lunch, Boone leaning back against the bole of a tree, Shannon sitting on the edge of the blanket, not wanting to get grass stains on her shorts. She had her left hand on his jean clad ankle as she delicately speared the tasty treats he'd served her with her right. It was a bit awkward as she struggled to cut an asparagus spear with only her fork, but she needed the physical contact with him. They smiled at each other frequently. It felt like they'd renewed something over the past two days, leaving them somehow shy and tentative as they shared the picnic, almost like they were in the early stages of dating, though of course they'd never actually dated, at least not each other.
Boone packed up the remnants of their meal and pushed through the bushes again, holding the foliage back for her. He reluctantly led the way back down the path, the end of their brief respite looming closer. Shannon reminded him again that they could stay the extra day if he wanted, but he declined, just as she'd known he would. She didn't feel slighted that he regretfully turned down another day of alone time; she knew it was just his sense of duty and his awareness that they'd already stolen two unexpected days. That didn't stop him, however, from ravaging her again once they got back to their room.
They lay sweaty and spent, breathing heavily, sprawled on the bed, duvet flung almost into the ensuite. Shannon rolled onto her side, fingers drawing small patterns on his smooth chest. His grey eyes stared at the ceiling, though she was sure they weren't quite seeing anything.
'You sure about not staying till tomorrow?' Shannon asked, but all she got was a whimper in response.
The packing didn't take long. Once they were done, Shannon left him to do a final check and told him to meet her at the front desk. Boone gave the room the once over then removed their personal items from the safe and shoved his wedding band back on as swiftly as he could, pocketing her jewellery and hoisting the duffel over his shoulder.
Shannon was chatting with the front desk clerk when he reached the lobby. It was the same woman who had checked them in. He stood patiently at first, anticipating a rapid end to the conversation now that he was by her side, but it didn't happen that way. The receptionists' eyes kept flicking over to glance at him as he waited, lingering on him a moment longer each time, he frowned a bit at her scrutiny; he was still clueless when it came to his effect on women. He started shifting impatiently from foot to foot as Shannon kept the dialogue going.
"What!" She finally demanded turning on him.
Boone flinched, "Uhm, are we going?"
She huffed a sigh, "Yes alright."
"These are yours." Boone stuffed his hand in his pocket and retrieved her jewellery, holding it out to her. When she extended her hand he placed the items carefully on her palm.
"Oh," he made a small noise as she made a motion to put the items in the side pocket of her shorts.
"What, Boone, just what?" Shannon rolled her eyes.
"I just…that is…aren't you going to put them on?" He asked.
This time she both huffed a sigh and rolled her eyes, "Fine!"
He wondered what had happened to the intimacy they'd just shared, but he knew she always put on a front when she had an audience. He decided to just go with the flow and not take her suddenly tough demeanour personally.
While she was sliding the rings back on her left hand the woman behind the counter couldn't help but catch the sparkle of the exquisite solitaire diamond that graced her belated engagement ring.
"What a lovely ring." She commented. "Your husband certainly knows how to please a lady."
"That he does." Shannon turned to smile at him. "Don't you Boone?"
He grinned and shrugged a little embarrassed.
The woman jerked her head to look at him, startled. "You said she was your sister!" She blurted.
His eyes widened with incomprehension, had he really, he wondered?
"You didn't!" Shannon turned on him. His obvious lack of an answer turned her to the woman behind the desk. "He didn't!"
She nodded.
"When, you idiot?" He was still without a clue. "When?" She demanded, turning back again.
The receptionist recounted his admission from when he'd been going for ice.
"Jesus Boone! You have to stop calling me your sister, we've been married for almost ten years, you doof." Shannon smacked his arm soundly.
"Sometimes you still call me your brother." He protested.
"Only when I mean to intentionally," she gritted her teeth at him.
He knew it wasn't true but prudently decided not to point that out.
"Explain the truth to the woman, Boone, now!" Shannon demanded.
He did so, apologetically, adding a Carlyle Enterprises smile at the end, to cement his explanation of their non-incestuous relationship firmly in her head, flashing his perfect teeth.
White, ivory, beautiful, grey eyes, perfect skin, button nose, single freckle, what? A stupid grin on her face, she was lost in his smile, just as she had been on Friday evening.
"Oh fuck!" Shannon pushed him back with irritation as she recognized the smitten and absent look in the woman's eyes, Boone may have been clueless about his looks but he still knew how to work a room. "Look at me. He's not my brother, he was but he's not anymore, we're married," at that she shoved her left hand under the woman's nose flashing the rings the woman had noticed earlier, the same ones that had started this whole conversation.
She started back, "Uhm, right, of course, sorry!" She stammered for a while longer but gradually regained her air of professionalism. She finished checking them out, thinking all the while about the wildfire of gossip that had started about them, and the partial bucket of water that she was going to get to thrown on that particular blaze.
Handing Shannon the final receipt she added her usual farewell, a trifle hesitantly, that she hoped they had a pleasant stay and would be back soon. As mercurial as always, Shannon's ire had already evaporated, much to the woman's surprise she enthusiastically voiced their intention to return.
"Come Boone," she headed for the glass lobby doors, Boone in her wake, giving the receptionist once final glance over his shoulder, adding a small smile and a shrug of his shoulders as an apology for the whole scene that had just played out.
The little car leapt out of the parking lot like a wild stallion suddenly given back its freedom, Shannon shifting rapidly through the gears as she headed them back towards home.
Boone sat, nervous as always with Shannon driving, in the passenger seat, his hand wrapped tightly around the handle of the armrest. He suddenly realized that his degree of tension wasn't anywhere near as extreme as he normally experienced, he really had unwound quite a bit over the weekend. It then struck him how, uncharacteristically, he'd relaxed at the spa almost immediately, totally unlike the snowboard vacation they'd gone on in March. He hadn't let himself unwind until almost the last day that time, though to be fair, it had been a far more physically and mentally demanding holiday as they all learned a totally new sport. He'd gone through varying degrees of feeling uncomfortable these past two day at the retreat, to be sure, mostly because of his aversion to being the centre of attention, and his long standing belief that he didn't deserve it, but for the most part he'd pushed real life to the back burner without a second thought.
Once again he thought about what a great idea it had been, but, not wanting to stoke her ego any more than his other two admissions of the same thing had done, he kept it to himself. Shannon must have picked up on it anyway; she slid her hand off the gearshift and stroked his thigh giving it a gentle squeeze, smiling one of her best smiles at him.
Andrew's head suddenly appeared over top of one of the lower run of shelves at the store. Joan had him currently employed restocking some of the candy and gum selection for her. "They're almost home!" he announced excitedly.
Joan glanced over at him from the front counter where she was processing a long time customer's phone order, and gave him a smile. The only shopper present was back in the concentrated juice section, his head deep in the frozen food case. There was no way he could have overheard the boys' somewhat odd statement, even if he had picked up on the strangeness of it, Andrew was always very careful, Joan knew.
"May I…?" He held up a hand and pointed at the door leading to the house, the rest of the question unspoken.
"Of course, dear," she gave him permission.
He was off quickly, entering the residence and heading for the back door. He guessed that they were just a few minutes away.
He was waiting by the back door as Shannon pushed through it, talking over her shoulder at Boone, nagging as usual. "Boone, seriously if you don't get that fixed I'm going to go right thought it one of these days." The automatic garage door opener had been working sporadically at best lately. "Hey!" She exclaimed at their son, happily, "Miss me?"
"Nah," he kidded, as she ruffled his hair, he leaned around her, while he had missed her he was looking for the person he'd really missed the most. "Boone!"
"Hey, buddy, I missed you." Boone pulled the boy into a hug. Andrew had held back a bit; now that he was older he wasn't really sure what was appropriate any more. He loved his dad to pieces though, and returned the embrace without reserve, his face pressed against Boone's chest, his arms wrapped around his waist.
"Yeah, me too," Andrew pulled back and looked up at Boone, easily recognizing his dad's healthier glow, the deeply furrowed lines that had radiated from the corners of his eyes and mouth on Friday now gone. 'You had a good time.' He thought, happy to be able to revert to their private method of conversing.
Boone nodded, 'It was great.' He fell into it just as easily.
Shannon already had the fridge door open and was pulling out bottles of water. Once again it had been hot and dehydrating in the little convertible sports car. 'Catch doofus.' She pitched one at Boone; he fumbled it, but surprisingly didn't drop it. Snapping the safety ring on hers she chugged half of it in one go.
Andrew followed after them as they headed upstairs to unpack.
Andrew and Shannon sat on the bed side by side, sharing the rest of her water as Boone moved busily about the room emptying the duffle, the two of them describing their weekend to the boy; Shannon, with relish of course, detailing with exacting minutiae, Boone's episodes of humiliation.
'So what about you?' Boone asked leaning back against the dresser, his unpacking duties dispensed with.
Andrew shrugged, looking innocent, 'I did, you know, stuff, you know.'
'No, we don't know.' Boone chose not to extract the information; he respected the boys' privacy, Shannon however, did not, and started to chuckle.
Andrew shot her a pissed off, and decidedly guilty, glance.
'Tell him,' she urged.
He cleared his throat and settled on what he thought was the thing that would alarm Boone the least. "Well…uhm…Joan had a family thing on Saturday, so I kind of hung with Steve," he stated; Steve was Joan's husband.
Boone was immediately on yellow alert at Andrews' obvious discomfort and chagrined expression; Shannon just rolled her eyes that her kid couldn't dissemble more convincingly.
"And?" Boone lead, not knowing what horrific admission was coming next, only knowing that one was.
"We, uh, we kind of went to KFC for lunch." His shoulders hunched and he flinched, knowing what his dads' reaction would be. He really hated Shan for making him do this when they'd only just gotten home, though he knew he'd have to cop to it eventually.
Boone turned an interesting shade of green and pushed off the dresser. "W…w…what?"
"Well, I said I could only eat fish and chicken, but I forgot to say about the deep fried thing and so he thought he was doing okay, and I only ate a couple of bites, cause it was really gross, and then I picked off the crispy stuff and the skin, cause it was so slimy, but then it was better, and I didn't throw up, and I only had a few fries, and the cole slaw was really good, I ate mine and Steve's." He finished hopefully, the run on sentence having been absolutely stupendous in his consideration. He'd tried to minimize the impact on Boone by racing through it, not unlike ripping a band-aid off with a quick yank.
"You're killing me." Boone pressed his hand over his mouth as if he'd eaten the crap and was about to hurl. He leaned back against the piece of furniture again, trying to put as much distance between himself and the transgressor as possible, as if Andrew was actually advancing on him threateningly, brandishing a drumstick of the Colonel's extra crispy.
"Tell him the rest." Shannon directed, laughing at each word.
Boone's eyes widened, from her obvious satisfaction, what Andrew had left to say was going to be even worse. Had they gone for nitrate and fat filled sausages from one of those street vendors? His stomach flipped at the thought.
"Well, uhm." Andrew's face screwed up and he bit his lip, the rest came out in another rush. "We went flying, Steve's a pilot, he has his own plane, it's not a Beechraft, at least I don't think it is, it's a bit smaller, but he had a delivery to make, so I went with him, and I got to sit in the co-pilots' seat and he let me hold the controls for a minute, and I used the radio, and it was really fun, and we…we didn't crash," he ground to a stop as he added the last part needlessly, obviously they hadn't crashed.
As Andrew rushed through his admission Boone stared at him, horrified, his breathing increasing until he was almost hyperventilating, as his knees gave out, he slid down the front of the dresser, bumping over the protruding handles to wind up sitting on the floor.
He continued to stare at Andrew, transfixed, as, however much he didn't want to, he nonetheless replayed again and again in his head his own experience in the Beachcraft. Though he hadn't flown in one, he'd most certainly crashed in one, and the thought of his son in a small private plane, terrified him boundlessly.