Bennett The Brave

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Dude," a voice called to me through the haze of sleep, "C'mon Bennett, your dad wants you." I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. Eddie Parnell stood in front of me, wearing a robe and long-johns, trying to shake me awake. I grunted my acknowledgement and slowly sat up, rubbing my eyes. Neal was already seated at the edge of his bunk, pulling slippers onto his feet. Grinning, he leaned over and pressed the mattress down with his hand near his butt and let out a long, musical fart.

I snorted, not really smelling anything, and pretended to gag. Pinching my nose, I leapt from my bed, circling around to the back of the room to wake up Garrett. As I came around the center bunks, I saw Eddie standing there, transfixed, his jaw agape, blinking his huge, round eyes. I followed his gaze to Garrett, who lay on his back in his bunk, a very proud morning-glory jutting up from the jumbled blankets; a bead of clear liquid glistening like a rhinestone, at the gently pulsing tip.

"Garrett!" I barked, making Eddie jump, "Dad wants us for something." Garrett huffed out a sigh and turned in the bed, his stiff rod retreating out of sight as he did. I swatted Eddie on the butt, "C'mon Eddie, did Dad say what he wanted?"

"Uh, yeah," he blinked as he turned to me, "guess we got a shitload of snow last night, and all the guys gotta help dig out." Neal threw on a robe and followed us out to peer over the railing into the great room and survey the snowy scene beyond the windows. It wasn't quite as I expected. As I descended down the stairs, into the warmth thrown off by the fireplace, the room became darker. Gray snow covered all the first floor windows, blocking most of the incoming light. The power appeared to be out, and the adults were milling around with coffee cups, a moody quiet subdued the room.

"Whoa Nelly," Neal whispered at the rail above me, before coming down the stairs. My dad emerged from the kitchen, already dressed in his outdoor clothes. He motioned us boys over to him.

"Morning gentlemen," he intoned in his best naval officer voice, "As you can see we got a significant snowfall last night, so we have some things to attend to urgently." Whenever he addressed me like that, for some reason, I felt really important. I stood a little straighter and noticed the other boys following my lead. My dad looked over my shoulder as Garrett, his hair still askew from being awakened, came down the stairs, "Ah good, Garrett, I need you to do something."

"Uh, sure," Garrett said, his voice husky from sleep, "what's up?"

"Got a call from old Mr. Koslowski down the road, he and his wife are snowed-in and need someone to clear them out. Think you're up to the task?"

"Of course," Garrett shrugged, "I should probably take them some wood too."

"Good thinking, " Dad said, "let's get some breakfast into you boys; then you can grab some shovels and help the other men to dig us out."

We all dove into our plates of eggs, bacon and toast whipped up for us by my mother, before we thundered up the stairs to change into our winter clothes. While we ate, Dad cleared the rear door to the kitchen, and made a path to the barn. Garrett fired up one of the snowmobiles, attached the wood sled to it, piled on a bunch of wood, grabbed a shovel and motored off into the frigid morning.

As I came back downstairs, I saw my father talking to one of the men.

"I'm sorry," the fellow was saying, "but as a surgeon, I cannot do this sort of work. If I were to injure my hands, it would be to the detriment of my career." Dad did not look very happy.

"I see," he said calmly, the taut muscles in his jaw betraying his anger.

"Besides," the man continued, "I did not come here to work. I paid good money to spend time away and relax, and that is what I mean to do."