Andrew was sitting on the curb, his elbows on his knees and his head hung low, when he heard a car pull up and approaching footsteps.
When Shannon stopped in front of him he raised his face to her, it was streaked with dirt and pinched with exhaustion, he still managed a little smile for her however.
"You ready to go home?" She asked. He nodded, and she held her hand down to help him up. He extended his arm, but kept his fingers curled closed, she frowned a bit and grabbed his wrist instead. She felt the pain he was in, the source of it emanating from his hands, the minute she touched him, but stopped herself from asking about it, wanting to hold off until she had him settled in the car. They crossed the parking lot and he stood by the vehicle waiting for her to open the door for him, keeping his hands, still in loose fists, pressed protectively to his waist.
Boone was watching from the far side of the seat, his eyes narrowed in concern, 'What happened to your hands?' he asked immediately, already aware that there was something wrong, as Andrew slid across the seat. 'Let me see them.'
Andrew turned them over slowly; the car bumping over the curb as it pulled out onto the road, and painfully straightened his fingers. The palms were a mess of broken blisters, oozing nastily.
Shannon gasped at the damage revealed. 'What were you doing?'
'Raking,' he responded.
'Weren't you wearing work gloves?' Boone questioned, Shannon could tell that he was struggling with himself again, fighting against the urge to take on all the blame.
'Yeah…in the afternoon,' came the chagrined reply.
Boone leaned forward to speak to the driver and requested that they stop at a pharmacy on the way home. Inside he bought some antiseptic, ointment, gauze and a couple of pairs of white cotton gloves. Once home he tended to Andrews' injuries, cleaning the wounds, smearing them with the ointment and helping him put on a pair of the gloves, silently thanking Jack and Sun again for the first aid lessons they'd given him.
It was awkward for Andrew to eat dinner with his hands all swathed, but he managed, and went to bed immediately after, totally spent from his day.
Shannon woke in the morning alone in bed. She searched for Boone in her head and found him mindlessly swimming laps in the pool. She nudged his consciousness and playfully sent him a picture of her lying naked and alone.
'Bitch!' he responded, but kept swimming.
She laughed as she got out of bed and, as was her custom, pulled on his abandoned t-shirt from the day before and her underwear. She opened the door to the hall, startling one of the house staff with the suddenness of it. Biding the woman a good morning she crossed the hall to Andrews' door and tapped on it gently.
She could sense the woman's amusement that she hadn't just gone right in his room without waiting for permission. She didn't know how fervently they respected each other's privacy, the enforced intimacy of their shared consciousness made them keenly aware of just how precious their personal space was. When she tapped again and still got no answer, she cracked the door open and peered in.
Andrew was still asleep, face down, his head turned to the right and his right hand, still in its white cocoon, palm up by his face, his left was buried, stuffed under the pillows; his right foot protruded from the blankets and was suspended out over the side of the bed.
Shannon opened the door wide enough to slip through and crossed the room. Gently, she drew one manicured fingernail down the centre of his sole. When his foot twitched, but he didn't wake, she did it again, this time getting a slight groan from him as well, the third time she tickled the sensitive skin, the leg retracted pulling the appendage back into the safety of its lair under the covers. She smiled as she sensed him coming slowly awake.
Andrew dragged his right hand down and placed the palm against the mattress, intending to push himself on to his back, he hissed in pain however as he put full pressure on it and lifted it quickly, squirming to flip himself with just his body instead.
He stretched and smiled in greeting, Shannon helped him to sit up, and perched on the edge of the bed so they could both examine his hands.
The fabric was stained where it had come in contact with the broken blisters, he moved to pull the gloves off, but she stopped him. 'They might be stuck,' she told him in response to his puzzled look. 'We should wait for Boone to do it.' When he nodded in agreement, she sent a silent summons.
Boone arrived a few minutes later, his towel-dried hair sticking up in all directions, his towel secured around his waist preventing the residual water in his swimsuit from dripping on the floor.
In the bathroom Shannon watched Boone as he ministered to Andrew carefully loosening the fabric from the boys' wounds, and peeling the gloves off. Surprisingly, he'd not been too adversely affected by the results of their punishment on their son. She'd half expected another round of self recriminations yesterday, but other than telling Andrew that maybe he'd learned to wear gloves right from the beginning next time, he hadn't said much. She chalked it up to Andrew's enthusiasm about how well he'd done that day, and in spite of his hands, how much he'd actually enjoyed himself. Boone had smiled his best lopsided grin in response to Andrew's realization that Boone had known all along that his "punishment" was probably going to turn out to really be anything but, he was aware that the kid loved being productive and also spending time in the company of adults. Still, it had taught him a lesson and given him time to reconsider his actions, prompting him to apologize to them both again.
After Andrews' shower, Boone applied a thin layer of the balm again and, instead of the gloves, wrapped gauze around his hands.
Downstairs in the breakfast nook, Grant made his usual morning appearance, asking after their plans for the day.
"Farmers market," Boone replied. On their second and final day of touring wineries, the couple had passed a sign advertising just that, and of course Boone was eager to visit it. "Do you think the chef would mind if I prepared dinner tonight? Frank's coming in this afternoon, isn't he?" Boone wanted to make a gesture of thanks for his hospitality; what better way than using his natural talents?
Grant assured him that the chef would welcome a night off and, to answer his question, Mr. Jackson was expected mid-afternoon.
"Great," he nodded, then smiled as a further idea occurred to him. "Would you like to join us as well?"
"How about everybody, Boone?" Andrew suggested. "They've all been really nice to us."
"Do you think Frank would have a problem with that? Maybe he doesn't throw dinner parties for his house staff?" Shannon directed her question to Grant.
"Mr. Jackson often has functions for us; he likes to think of us as his extended family, I'm sure he'd be very pleased. But that means there would be almost three-dozen people," Grant cautioned, "isn't that putting you out?"
He looked puzzled as the three of them laughed, then joined in when Shannon told him what her husband did for a living.
"You've got high expectations to live up to, then." He commented on parting.
With the empty travel and saddlebags, Boone estimated that they'd have enough room for everything he was going to need to prepare the meal that night. He didn't want to take the car again; the whole idea behind this trip was that it was supposed to be a motorcycle holiday.
They found the concentration of open air local vendors easily; the two of them trailing along after Boone as he let the selection fuel his imagination for a proposed menu. He discussed his choices with his "pack animals" for the day, making sure to include both Shannon and Andrew in the family outing. After purchasing almost the entire stock of chicken breasts from a free-range organic poultry farmer, asking the woman to hold them in her refrigerated truck until his return, he finally finished his purchases. He'd spied a food vendor of interest as they'd meandered through the stalls and redirected them to it now that his mission was complete.
Seeing the frozen yoghurt truck Andrew laughed and exchanged a weighted look with his dad that Shannon didn't comprehend. Once they had their treats of choice, the three headed to a picnic table where the two of them recounted their memories of Sundays spent together exploring their local market during Shannon's absence. Though there was no parading circle of dispirited equines topped by cranky or excited children wobbling in the saddles at this one, it was close enough to what they remembered that it evoked their long discarded recollections easily. They were experienced enough storytellers, developing the talent over the year as they'd shared their past with Shan, that they readily brought the instances to life for Shannon, making her feel almost as if she'd participated herself. She felt a small pang of regret, as she did whenever they told her of the things that she missed, but as she shared their excitement with them, her pleasure quickly overrode it.
Once they'd retrieved the perishables and carefully stowed them for the short trip back to the estate, they mounted the bikes and headed for their temporary home.
An hour later, the groceries packed away, Boone shooed the rest of his family out to the pool while he stayed in the kitchen doing a little bit of necessary prep work for his planned feast.
Andrew was half way across the room, happily contemplating different ways he could descend the slide when Boone brought him up short with the caution that he was, under no circumstances, to get his hands anywhere near the water.
The pronouncement even startled Shannon, who stared at him almost as incredulous as Andrew.
"But…but…how am I supposed to do that?" He cried.
"I don't know, but you've got open sores on those hands. You even think about not keeping them dry then that's the end of this vacation, right then and there." Boone went on to explain his reasoning; then finished with a final entreaty, "I'm not trying to be mean, Andrew, just please?"
Andrew nodded in agreement, seeing the sense of it.
Boone turned away from them, but Shannon could see his knuckles working, flexing white with the strain of keeping his composure. When he'd said that he felt like he'd turned a corner and was going to be okay, Shannon certainly hadn't expected a complete about face in just a few days. She didn't know where he was drawing the reserves of emotional strength from that he was exhibiting, but she was completely astounded by it.
As soon as they'd both left the room, Boone leaned forward, bracing himself on the counter and shaking, feeling almost as exhausted as if he'd just run a marathon, still determined to do his best to fight against his inner demons. He been too weak for far too long, he wasn't sure how long he'd be successful in his battle but he'd sworn a promise to himself to try.
When he joined the others out by the pool, he smiled at Andrew's creative solution. The boy was standing in the pool, deep enough in the water that the edge of the pool deck, against which he leaned, came to mid-chest. He had his schoolbooks spread out on the dry surface and was paging through one of the texts, his exercise book and pen to one side. As Boone watched he picked up his pen in his left hand, the one that had suffered less from his day of labour, and made a quick note, his bandaged hands, high and dry, just as instructed.
Boone paused to lean down and ruffle his hair as he passed, giving Andrew a chuckle and an approving grin.
Boone had moved from the pool enclosure up to the impressive outdoor kitchen set-up, which mirrored that of Franks' other house, when he felt a vibration, closely followed by a resonating whump, whump, whump. A commuter helicopter suddenly appeared over the roof of the mansion, the bulk of the structure having undoubtedly shielded the cacophony of its approach.
'Frank!' Andrews' excited announcement sounded.
When the man had said he'd fly up for a few days of their weeks' vacation, Boone had assumed a small private plane landing at a local airstrip and a brief limo ride; the possibility of a helicopter hadn't even entered into his imagination.
Shannon raised herself up on an elbow and shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun as she also regarded the craft.
Andrew closed his schoolbooks and ploughed his way through the water hastily, wanting to greet his friend, and, Boone surmised, to ask for a bit of a free ride. The thought of his son in an overgrown inverted eggbeater in the sky almost sent him into fits, though he wouldn't have prohibited it. He needn't have worried, however, the minute the couple disembarked and cleared the area the vehicle rose quickly into the air and sped away. Shannon could sense Andrew's disappointment, as he slowed his headlong dash across the lawn and proceeded at a slightly slower pace, his parents now following in his wake.
Minutes later, greetings exchanged, Grant, who'd responded to the unmistakeable arrival of his employers, preceded the couple into the house so they could get settled leaving the Carlyle's to return to their previous activities.
It didn't take long for Frank and Rene to change into casual wear and join them in the rear grounds. Boone left his station, accompanying the older couple as they passed the barbecue set-up, and waited until they were all settled and a staff member had left a tray of drinks and appetizers before hesitantly advised them about that evenings plans, breathing a sigh of relief at their enthusiastic endorsement.
The first of the guests started meandering into the yard in the late afternoon, by early evening the party was in full swing. Boone was in his element as he expertly prepared the Greek inspired menu he'd planned, receiving lots of assistance from various eager participants. There was a girl, probably in her late teens Shannon estimated, who glommed on to him at first sight, quickly agreeing to perform any chore he set her, in exchange for the opportunity to remain in close proximity to him. Shannon and Andrew watched her with amusement, Boone completely oblivious to her infatuation as usual, while she shamelessly flirted with him, until her mother realized what was going on and rescued her from any further self-humiliation by dragging her away. She spent most of the rest of the evening pouting, watching him whenever she thought she could get away with it without notice.
The meal was received with fervour by all age ranges in attendance, and praise heaped on the chef. Boone blushed in embarrassment, but graciously accepted the compliments with much more ease than he would have exhibited even just six months ago. Shannon and Andrew beamed at him proudly, and Shannon kissed him soundly, making sure they were in clear view of the teenaged hussy first, however.
When all of the guests had left except for Grant and the five residents of the house, Frank suggested after dinner drinks on the patio. Rene excused herself, pleading fatigue she headed for bed, Andrew quickly rising to tag along with her, the excitement of the day had left him tired as well. The four remaining indulged in some of Frank's most prized cognac, even Boone sipping at a glass with his coffee, though he nursed his one measure for the remainder of the evening, while the others had several. It was more early morning than late night by the time they followed Rene and Andrew's example and dragged themselves inside, Grant heading for his residence in one of the smaller homes on the estate, after bidding them a good night.