"Time to wake up, princess."
Kimbra whined under her breath, trying to curl further into herself. The salesman's deep voice was much too loud for her. Waking up with a splitting headache made her despise any small noise. She needed darkness and silence for the next few hours. Or least until the hangover wore off.
But Bud didn't back down. He walked over to one of the bedroom windows and pulled back the curtains. That let a stream of light into the room.
"Darlin' it's time to get up."
Oh, I hate you.
Kimbra pulled the blanket over her head and groaned. "Go away. Too bright. Too loud."
"Ah, no, you are scheduled to go out to the resort with your brothers today. Adam sent me up here to fetch you."
I hate Adam too. He threw you off the slopes.
She snorted. "What? Are you his little errand boy now?"
"No, I just think you should spend time with them instead of staying in bed all day."
"I'd rather stay in bed. My head hurts."
"That's what you get for drinking."
"You aren't my father, so stop acting it." Kimbra jerked the blanket off. "And don't you dare make a gross 'well, you call me daddy' comment, or I'll come over there and punch you square in the stomach." She squinted against the blinding light.
"I mean, you did that one time."
Did not.
She launched a pillow at his head, barely missing it.
It didn't phase him. "And what was your plan last night? To drink yourself to death? Wallow in self-pity?" He crossed his arms over his chest.
Actually, yes. Wallowing in self-pity sounds pretty good. Drinking myself to death sounds even better. Might as well go the whole way if I can.
"No," she sat up, and regretted it once the room started spinning. "I wanted to forget. To just stop thinking for a while. That's it."
He crossed the room, and sat on the bed beside her. "Why?"
She sucked in a deep breath. "Because I'm scared." Kimbra realized, seconds after she said it, that she had said too much. "Forget it, it's stupid." She looked away. Embarrassed. Ashamed.
"Kimbra, honey, no. It's not stupid." He reached for her hand, holding it tightly within his grasp. "It's scary. Now I won't ever fully understand what you're going through, but I'm here for you. You don't have to be ashamed of being scared. It's okay to be upset. What's not okay is drinking yourself to death just to avoid it. It's unhealthy."
"I know… I'm just scared because…"
Because dying is terrifying. I don't want to suffer like my mom did. I don't want to die in my 40's or 50's. I'm scared.
Of course… Kimbra would never tell Bud that. She had trouble even admitting it to herself. She knew it'd take years for Huntington's to destroy her ability to talk, swallow, and walk. To function as a person until it eventually killed her. It still scared her, even if she wasn't sure she had the gene.
"You don't have to talk about it right now. Just promise me you'll talk to someone when it upsets you, instead of drinking. Okay?"
Kimbra finally looked at him. "Okay, I will." Her mouth managed to form a small smile.
"Good girl." Bud took her face in his hands, moved her face towards his and kissed her. "I love you."
"I love you too."
She does this when she wants to stop thinking about it.
It had started off like any other morning. Well… except for the pain that radiated from Kimbra's head. She wanted to take two aspirins and just sleep it off. But she couldn't. Adam was waiting for her outside. They had plans. She promised. So sleep would have to wait. There would be time for all of that later.
The Samoyed pulled on a pair of black leggings and a purple sweater. She brushed out her hair, noticing her white roots were beginning to show. Great, something else to deal with when we get back to St. Canard.
She winced as the tugging motion of the brush pulling her hair made the headache worse. What the hell was I thinking last night? Drinking? You know better than that. And to make matters worse, you let Bud see you like that.
A sigh as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Slipped on a pair of flats, and left the bedroom for the staircase. She walked briskly, taking the stairs two at a time.
It was a vicious cycle. Something would remind her of the fatal neurological disease. She'd struggle, wanting to be numb for a while. Desperate to forget. Then she'd drink. Too much. Make a fool of herself. It'd only numb the pain temporarily until morning. It hit twice as hard once she was sober again.
You have got to get a grip on yourself.
Kimbra stepped into the living room. Her father sat in a chair by the two large windows. His nose, deep in a newspaper as always. Bud stood in front of the windows, his back to them. His hands clasped behind as he watched the snow gently fall. Neither of them heard her come down.
She cleared her throat, gaining both of the men's attention. Bud turned around, facing her with a small smile.
Loren glanced up from his paper. "Are you going out to play with your brother?"
"I guess so," Kimbra didn't necessarily refer to it as playing. That was for kids. But her father still thought of his offspring as children. No sense in ruining that for him and reminding him that his kids were all grown up now.
"Have fun then."
Her shoulders drooped. "Papa, you don't want to come with us?"
"Someone has to keep Bud company." The aged Samoyed found a way to avoid the slopes. Truthfully, skiing and snowboarding had been his wife's forte. Ice skating and hockey were his.
Kimbra then turned to her boyfriend. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us either?"
"Not really," Bud grimaced at the thought of going back out into the bitter cold. "I think I'll just stay here with your dad."
"We'll be fine," Loren ushered her on. "It'll be nice to get to know your fella. Get going. You know how Adam is when you're late."
"Dad, don't call him that."
"What do you want me to call him?"
"Just, Bud. Okay?"
"Alright, just go have fun." Loren waved her away.
Kimbra walked towards Bud and wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed herself against him. "I'll be back. I promise he's not scary." She whispered in his ear.
"I'm not scared of your father."
A lie. He was very much afraid of Loren Wulfe. The man was a best-selling author, beloved by millions. He probably had connections and could ruin Bud with a snap of his fingers. He had four older sons who could beat him to a pulp. What isn't there to be afraid of?
Not that he would ever admit it to anyone.
"If you say so," Kimbra reached up and stroked at his hair. "I'll be back in a bit, don't have too much fun without me."
He chuckled. "We'll try not to."
Kimbra pecked a kiss against the hound's mouth, releasing him from her embrace.
Bud deeply breathed as she pulled the front door open and let in a waft of spiky cold air. And then she left, the door shutting behind her. Good. Relief sagged through him. He wouldn't be thrown down the slopes today, maybe not anytime soon. Maybe never again, if he was lucky. He would rather live a few more years than meet his demise at the bottom of a ski slope.
"So, son." Loren started once Kimbra had left. "What are your intentions with my daughter?" His face was hidden once again by the newspaper. It was hard to tell whether the man was joking or not.
Bud hoped it was the latter.
Bud turned to the author, brief fear in his eyes. "My…intentions?"
"Mhmmm."
No reply. What was there to say? Intentions? What the hell did that mean? Bud didn't have any intentions, well, any appropriate ones that he could say. They hadn't been together long. Didn't have any long-term plans.
"Well… sir, I don't… I don't have any intentions."
"You're just stringing my baby girl along, then?"
"Well, uh…that's not what I meant…" He stalled, trying to phrase his question.
Loren laughed, closing his newspaper. "I'm just messing with you."
There was an inward sigh of relief.
With his own father, Bud knew to have his walls up at all times. Harrison never joked around. Always questioned Bud's actions, and then accused him of disgracing the family name with every step. For each step Bud made, Harrison would drag him three steps back.
Getting away from that mindset turned out to be difficult, even after all these years.
"O-oh, yes sir. That's hilarious."
Loren chuckled as he stood, setting the newspaper on the seat of the chair. "C'mon, I'll show you my study. Kimbra said you're a self-made businessman. It's nice to meet another."
Oh right because Loren is a world renowned author. That's totally comparable to a measly water bottle salesman.
The Samoyed led Bud to a doorway, just off to the side of the living room. He flipped the light switch as soon as he stepped inside. Bud watched as the room lit up, showcasing old bookshelves cluttered with old Nightingale merch, books, photos, and trinkets. In front of the only window, sat a large wooden desk with a black leather office chair. Piles of paper stacked atop the desk. Ten large framed posters hung on the walls.
Some of them he easily recognized. Posters of the covers from the Nightingale series.
Whispers in the Dark
Red Sky
Brimstone
Revelations
A Lonely Night
Suspicious Minds
Exile
Entropy
Daybreak
He didn't recognize the final one. Its colorful hues and dark outline of Detective Nightingale sent a chill down his spine. It stood out from the rest.
Loren sat down at the desk, sorting through the drawers.
"Was this where Nightingale was written?" Bud asked, peering curiously over his shoulder at the papers on the desk. Most of them were letters from Sterling Publishing.
Was Loren working on something new? Wasn't he retired? Kimbra said he didn't write anymore.
"Most of it, yes." The older man didn't look up as he rifled through the drawer contents. "I wrote outside sometimes or whenever I traveled. I always carried a large notepad with me for that purpose."
He then motioned to the walls of the room, not looking up. "The posters are covers for the books, by the way. I'm sure you knew that."
"I never saw this one before." Bud pointed out the most colorful poster, the one without a name.
Loren finally looked up to where Bud had focused his attention. "Ah, that's the cover for Everafter."
"The final book." Bud hadn't meant it to come out in a whisper. It just felt like something you didn't speak of. Forbidden.
"I went through seven covers before I found one that Lucille liked. She's… well… she was picky."
Bud glanced at the older male with a bit of interest. "Kimbra said that Nightingale was written for her mom."
"It was. I wanted something to distract her when her Huntington's started to show."
Bud didn't say anything as he waited for Loren to continue.
"It all started when I began telling her this story about a detective at night." He shook his head and smiled. "She became so invested in it that she begged me to write it down."
Bud still said nothing as Loren kept talking. Just stood there, listening. It's the only thing he knew to do at this moment.
"It's how I wrote Whispers in the Dark. And then I jokingly sent it to my publisher when he kept asking what my next book would be. He loved it, and asked for an entire series." Loren fidgeted with his blue sweater's hem and refused to meet Bud's eyes. "I didn't want to publish it. It was written for Lucille. It was hers."
"Then why did you do it?"
"Because she said I should. That maybe someone else is having a hard time and needs an escape. That Nightingale could give them that." Loren tried to make his voice sound normal. Not all choked up that it sometimes became when he discussed the topic. "It's why I can't publish Everafter. It's hers, and she never had the chance to hear how it ended."
"You miss her a lot, huh?" Was all Bud could say after what felt like several minutes had passed.
"More than you could possibly know." Naturally, there was a reaction. Loren shifted in the chair, not taking a liking to the conversation.
So he changed it. For his own sake. He didn't want to think about his dead wife anymore. "You're a decent man, Flud. Sorry, my boys have been so rough on you."
And Loren R. Wulfe meant it.
"It's fine."
Not really.
"They're just overprotective of their baby sister, you understand. Right?"
A sympathetic expression crossed Bud's features. "I get it, I have a little brother myself."
Yet, you did jack shit to protect him. Some older brother you turned out to be.
"You're always free to hide in here if you like." Loren gestured with a hand around the study. "None of them come in here anymore."
Just like you never came back for Colin. How you never visited him or asked about him. Selfish jerk you are, Bud Bernard Flud.
Bud pushed the thought aside.
It wasn't something he liked to dwell on.
Adam Wulfe had always been a bit of a nuisance. Their mother had said he inherited it from their father. Loren swore he had never been that bad. He placed the blame on their uncle Nicholas. Who then placed the blame on their great-aunt Gertrude. No one knew exactly why Adam turned out the way he did. Pretty much a mystery no one was bothered to solve.
Kimbra didn't dwell on it long as she swung her feet. Watched the dozens of tourists ski down the slopes. Wasn't sure why Adam insisted on riding the ski lift if they weren't even going to be doing any of that today.
"Shouldn't you be down there, working?" She gestured vaguely with a hand.
"I have employees for that," Adam responded, looking down as well. "I just wanted to ride the lift with you."
"Do you even do anything here?"
"Yes, I do, matter of fact." He shot back, turning to her.
"What? Rolling around in the snow?" She smiled sweetly at him, knowing it would get under his skin.
"No!"
Kimbra could tell he was getting irritated, but couldn't resist pushing him just a bit further. "Let me guess, you're down there making snowmen?"
"Shut up."
"Why do you ride this thing anyway? We aren't even snowboarding."
"Sometimes I just ride it to taunt the other riders."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, watch this," he quickly moved his head towards the other side of the lift, where a couple was being taken in the other direction. "Hey! Are you going the wrong way, or am I?"
A white wolf scratched the back of his ear. Looked at Adam before responding. "I think it's us."
"See?" Adam nudged his sister with a shoulder. "It's funny!"
She released a small whine from the back of her throat. "You're such a child." Feeling embarrassed by her brother, Kimbra hoped he wouldn't do that again.
"I'm fun, unlike you." Adam said, matter-of-factly.
"I'm loads of fun." She argued back.
"Says who? Dad?"
"Bud thinks I'm fun!"
A snort pushed its way from Adam's mouth. "I don't even know why you like him. He's dreadfully boring."
"He's good to me. I love him."
Still can't believe I'm saying that, and I actually mean it.
"Gross, but if you ever want me to kick his ass, I will."
She laughed, not doubting him in the slightest. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks."
The day for the two turned out pleasant. They rode the ski lift for some time. Adam would point out new changes he had made to the resort. Kimbra's snarky remarks about it threw them into bickering. Nothing new. Yet, Adam's demeanor changed once he stepped into his office at the lodge. His hands immediately reached for his desk, picking up a brown envelope. Blue eyes barely skimmed over the sender address before he trashed it. A painful expression set in the Samoyed's face.
And then Kimbra's smile fell.
"Adam, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. Nothing, why do you ask?" He moved things around on his desk for what seemed like no apparent reason. Couldn't get a damn thing past her, he thought.
"There is, now tell me." She pressed him in irritation.
"There's nothing wrong!"
She had heard that line too many times. Said it plenty of times herself. Which made it even easier to know that Adam was lying.
Kimbra grabbed his hands, and held them, making her older brother look her in the eyes. "Something is wrong, I know you."
Adam shook his head, trying to free himself from her grip. Trying not to look her in the eyes. When he realized it was of no use, he finally blurted out what was bothering him.
"A big oil company is trying to buy out the ski resort for drilling."
Of everything she'd expected him to say, that wasn't it.
The other Samoyed blinked a few times, releasing him. "You wouldn't sell."
Adam took a deep, steadying breath. "At first, no. I refused." His exhale was long and deep as he dropped his head into his hands. Sitting down in the office chair. "They started calling me every day, making offers."
"Put your foot down and remind them your mind hasn't changed."
"I have! I do!" Adam said, letting his elbows rest on the desk as he dropped his head in his hands once more. "But it's hard! They're ruining me, Kimbra."
"I don't see how they're ruining you."
"Haven't you noticed there's fewer people here this year?"
There was usually a larger crowd at the Brittlesburg Ski Resort. She never thought much of it, though. It happens.
Kimbra took a deep breath and softened her tone. "Well…yeah, but I thought it was just a slow season."
Adam threw his head back, as if the next few words were nothing more than a chore to him. "No, business has been getting worse. No one wants to come anymore. There's been an outpour of bad reviews on our site. I think the company is doing it to run me out of business."
The pain on his face was clear. He knew they were fighting a losing battle at this point.
"Adam, you can't let them get away with this."
"What do you expect me to do?" It came out as a shout. His harsh tone of voice totally unfamiliar.
A pause, then he spoke in a quieter voice. "How the hell am I supposed to fight back against a large corporation? I'm just one guy, Kimbra."
That was not what she wanted to hear. She wanted to hear him be enraged, ready to fight back. Ready to stand his ground. But he just sounded tired, ready to give up and let them win.
He sounded almost willing to sell to them.
"Who are they?"
"Russell Oil Co."
Never heard of them.
"Do you want me to—"
"No," Adam sternly said, holding a finger up. "I don't want you getting involved in this. I can handle it on my own. Don't say a word to anyone about this, okay?"
It hurt that Kimbra couldn't help her brother. That he refused it. She didn't understand why. But she had to respect his wishes.
"Okay…"
Adam clenched his jaw, dropping his head slightly. "You know Sterling is trying to pressure dad into a Nightingale movie?"
She didn't like how quickly he shifted topics.
"I know. I heard him on the phone yelling at them about it."
"They call him almost every week." Adam paused, looking at her for a long moment. "He's so tired. I feel bad for him, I do, and I know I'm not making things any easier for him…" He sounded apologetic.
"Adam, it's okay, he probably appreciates the distraction."
"I just don't want him to know that I know. I don't want him to know about Russell Oil Co. I can't worry him more than he already is."
"I swear I won't tell him." Kimbra held a hand over her heart, raising the other. "Scout's honor."
Adam rolled his eyes, but gave his sister a sad smile. "And he misses you, a lot. He doesn't say it, but I can tell. He roams around the house a lot. Not only that, but he barely goes into town anymore."
"I miss you guys too." She said softly, trying to maintain an even tone of voice. Crying in front of her brother would be pathetic.
"Then move back here. I know you aren't happy in St. Canard. You complain about it all the time."
"It's not as easy as it sounds."
"Sure it is!" Adam leaned forward. "Just quit your job. Pack up and move back here. Easy-peasy."
"It's not that easy…"
"It is!"
"No, it's not. I have responsibilities in St. Canard. A job. People need me there. I can't drop it all just because I'm homesick. I just… I can't do it."
A sigh and an eye roll. "Kimbra, you have got to let yourself be happy for once."
Funny enough, she had been trying and failing at that her entire life.
Kimbra dropped on the bed in the guest room. She let out a loud, dramatic groan, throwing her arms out on the bed. Taking up as much space as possible.
Bud didn't pay much mind to her as he flipped through a book. "How was your day?"
"Eh, fine, I guess. Yours?"
"Good, actually. Spent it with your dad."
That peaked her interest. "Oh? How did that go?"
"Your father likes me." He said, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Don't let it go to your head."
"Too late." Bud grinned at her amusedly. "He's already calling me son."
"No he's not."
"He did," he closed the book, setting it on the nightstand beside the bed. "How was the day with Adam? You gotta give me more than that."
Truth be told, I'm not sure what's going on.
"Russell Oil Co. is harassing him into selling them the ski resort." She explained tiredly, running her fingers through her hair. "They want the land for drilling."
Bud blinked a few times, not grasping what the problem was. "Isn't that a good thing? They'd probably pay a hefty amount for it."
Kimbra dropped her hand in shock. "Are you serious right now?"
He didn't understand. "What?"
She sat up with a frown. "Turn the whole businessman personality off for a second."
"Kimbra I don't—"
"Turn it off."
"I just think—"
"Is it off?"
This is utterly ridiculous, Bud thought.
"It's off."
"Good, but anyway…" Kimbra bit the inside of her cheek, stressed. "He doesn't know what to do."
"I'm sure he'll figure it out." Bud scooted close to his girlfriend, wrapping his arms around her waist. He stuck his nose into her soft hair.
She leaned against him, comforted by the affection. "Mhmm, maybe."
And then he felt her draw away. He released her reluctantly, wondering what was wrong. Kimbra didn't even give him the time to ask.
"I'm going to take a shower before dinner," she gently caressed his face before stepping out of the room.
Kimbra didn't want to admit that her heart worried about her brother and father. It wasn't fair what was happening to them. It really wasn't. She shouldn't burden Bud with that sort of thing.
Not like there was anything either of them could do, anyway.