Page 9 of Deacon

Aiden doesn’t reply—he was gearing up to chew me out about being jobless.

“I’m just gonna go wash up,” I say, backing up. “Then I’ll make dinner.”

Aiden jerks his chin. Bittern has gone back to staring at the wall. I put my head down and go upstairs to put my purse and coat away. In the bathroom, I splash my face with cold water and tie my curls on top of my head to keep them away from the stove.

I drag myself into the empty kitchen. Through the window, I see Aiden standing on the side porch—my favorite place when he’s not occupying it. Bittern sits on the bench just outside the door. He’s smoking again.

I put pork chops on the stove, fry potatoes, and make biscuits. Aiden and Bittern are still outside when I start plating food and drizzling it with gravy made of pork grease and flour. In the distance, I hear Ryland’s truck come up the drive and rumble to a halt.

They all have these big trucks with huge wheels now. I had to get into Aiden’s a few days ago, and Ryland laughed at me because I was too short to climb in. Bittern silently helped me up. He has to pretend he’s not too nice to me in front of Aiden, but I saw him give Ryland a shove.

The front door swings open. I get Ryland’s plate, fill it, and put it down. He walks in and sits down at the head of the table. There isn’tmuch to say about Ryland, except he’s a less intelligent version of his father.

I stare at him sitting in Aiden’s seat.

“What’re you looking at?” He cocks his head. He’s tired, like he’s been working hard all day. I know they’ve been clearing land on the northern side in preparation for paving a road.

The side door kicks open, and my stepfather appears, smelling of winter and cigarettes.

“She’s looking because she’s well trained enough to know you shouldn’t be sitting in that fucking seat unless you’re paying the bills,” says Aiden.

Ryland gives me a dirty look and moves. Aiden takes his patriarchal throne, leaning back and spreading his knees. Bittern sinks down at his brother’s other side. I set the plates down, along with a beer each. Finally, I sit down with my food.

“Go get me a bottle opener,” says Aiden.

I get up, taking the opener from the counter and handing it to him. Ryland leans back, freezing me with his stare.

“I’d like a cold glass,” he says.

Obediently, I go to the fridge. I put three glasses in there earlier, but they’re nowhere to be found.

“Did anybody take the glasses from the fridge?” I ask.

“I did,” says Aiden. “I needed the space.”

“Put another in,” says Ryland.

I’m unsure what he wants me to do. It’ll take a good ten minutes for the glass to get cold in the freezer. Ryland cocks his head, like he’s daring me to disobey in front of Aiden.

Bittern coughs, hitting his chest with his fist. He’s got bad lungs from the mines, and on top of it, he smokes worse than a chimney.

“Stop fucking with her,” he rasps.

Ryland’s lip curls. “It’s all in good fun.”

Bittern jerks his head at my chair, and I go to sit down, but Aiden lifts a hand.

“Get the salt and butter while you’re up,” he says.

Silently, I go to the fridge again, but the butter dish is empty. In the laundry room is a secondary freezer, so I go there and dig through until I find another pack of butter. The men are talking when I get back, and I’m glad they’re not focused on me. I warm the butter and set it by Aiden with the salt.

I sink down, and Bittern gives me a look, like he’s trying to apologize for the others. I offer the tiniest smile back. My food is cold, but it’s still good. Eyes on my plate, I cut some pork and put it in my mouth.

Chairs scrape back. Aiden and Ryland get up, Bittern at their heels, their plates and beer bottles empty.

“Let’s get the barn locked up,” Ryland said. “Fucking cold out.”

They leave, and the house is silent. I eat steadily, surrounded by the mess of dinner. I’m at peace inside because I met my little goal and found a job, which means when I wake up, I get to leave this house for eight wonderful hours.

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