Western Spark

A Doozy - Part 1

Author's Note: This is part of the ongoing prequel to the West Brother's trilogy, and is Brett and Peony's story. It came from a moment in Western Flame where Peony is talking about her first kiss with Brett, and she called it "a doozy!" - It prompted me to write out what that was like for our favourite surrogate mom and the man who caused a giant mess that ultimately brought a family together. 

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It was quarter past eleven when Peony finally finished up the freezer meals, stuffing them one by one into the giant upright freezer. The click of her permanent pen as it closed echoed in the walk-in pantry. Surveying the gleaming, brand new kitchen through the narrow doorway, she let out a breath, surrounded by the canned goods, spices, and a myriad of staples crowded in on the shelves.

She noticed they were low on basmati rice and made a mental note to add it to the shopping list as she stretched. Her back was killing her from standing for so long.

Rosy had left the kitchen sparkling after dinner, and Peony was loathe to dirty it up again, but she'd wanted to lay in some good casseroles for when calving season started. No one had time to sit for a meal then, and Rosy usually went to Cuba around the same time, so cooking was not as necessary. Often it would be on the counter with a note, and the boys and Liz would dive in when they got into the house late, microwaving mounds of food and eating in the back den, staring dumbly at the television, too tired to even form thought.

As she quietly closed the door to the pantry and moved over to the sink to begin cleanup, she took in the bright stainless steel appliances, the squeaky-new cabinet doors. Brett has spared no expense. Less than six months after Veronica had died, he hired Rosy as a cook for them, and then dropped the bomb that he was renovating the entire house.

It was as if he wanted to erase all visible traces of Veronica. He succeeded. Except for pictures and some of the furniture and decor, the house felt brand new and void of her tasteful, personal touches.

The boys had moved out to one of the bunkhouses while the house was torn apart, and Brett had literally lived in his war room, the only room he didn't want touched. New carpet and tile—new everything—had gone into the main areas, the master suite had been gutted, and both boys got new bathrooms. Brady hadn't wanted one, but Brett had just gone and chosen it all for him when he refused to pick finishes.

What a teenager needed with a giant soaker tub, Peony had no idea, but Brady—and Tanner—now had one along with fully tiled, spacious showers.

The kitchen was the showpiece unto itself. Peony was in love with it, the luxury of the countertops, the storage only half full of what they had in the last kitchen. She and Rosy had been pinching themselves the first couple of weeks just simply being in the room, let alone cooking on the complicated gas stove with dual ovens, or stowing groceries in the giant restaurant-calibre fridge.

Peony missed Veronica even with the renovations. He could change all he wanted, but her memories were still part of this place, and the people who lived here.

The back door of the mudroom slammed just as she was finished wiping down the counters, and Brett strode in, rumpled, his hair spiking in all directions. Like always when he came into the house, his presence entered before him, and Peony drew a quick steadying breath, awaiting the maelstrom both from him, and because of him.

"Rough night?" she asked, moving to the cupboard where she kept his Macallan and whisky tumblers. He stopped and leaned on the counter, his face a thundercloud, frown firmly in place.

Peony kept it light purposely. He was a man still grappling with the secrets festering in his consciousness, she was sure of that. He spent more time in that damned war room than anywhere else.