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    Topher Lydon
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Carter's Vanguard - 21. Chapter 21

Brody was smoking a cigarette on the porch watching as Will trimmed back the over-enthusiastic growth of the bush at the end of the garden. He casually flicked his ash as he relaxed with Plato's Republic balanced across his knees as he read, occasionally looking up to criticize Will's pruning.

"Not too much!" he warned.

"Yes, dear," Will muttered. "It's like we're married, you know."

Brody looked up from his book and arched a surprised eyebrow, "Do I look like a hockey player? You're the puck bunny around here."

Will gestured threateningly with the pruning shears, "Careful you, I know how to use these."

"Now that would be a crime," Brody commented.

"Some might call it justice," Lisa said as she turned into the driveway, a basket of muffins in her hands. She gave Brody her usual cold greeting, but there was no spirit behind it.

"Bitch, please!" Brody protested, looking hurt.

"Call me a bitch again, playful or not, and I'll be the one doing the pruning," Lisa stated flatly with a smile.

Will chuckled to himself and tried to pretend he was cutting more of the branches. Not paying attention he began to snip, watching the two former lovers stalk each other like lions.

"I brought a peace offering," she said, holding up the basket. "Banana muffins."

"You brought me some of your mother's muffins?" Brody asked, smiling as he looked into the basket.

"No, I made these myself..."

Brody's face was priceless: that look halfway between fear and stark terror. If Lisa's mother baked the best muffins in town, her daughter undoubtedly made the worst. Will had found that hilarious; in home economics Lisa's muffins had been classified as biological weapons of mass destruction.

"Well," Brody faltered, trying to find something witty and cool to say, "I just had breakfast, but I'll try them at lunch..."

"Well, they're a peace offering," Lisa said handing him the basket. "I'm trying to say I'm sorry."

Will wondered if her intent was really to make peace, or to poison Brody. He chuckled as he wrestled with a stubborn branch, it just wouldn't clip like the others. Absently he put more effort into it, still not paying attention.

"Well, there's fresh coffee," Brody said, gesturing to the house.

"Thanks," Lisa said awkwardly; she'd obviously thought this through, but now that she was there, she seemed uncomfortable and unsure of herself. "So..." she said, glancing at the steps.

Brody shifted over to let her past, holding up his coffee cup, "If you're heading that way anyway..."

She took the mug, giving him a look that said she was still highly suspicious of him, just as a loud crack splintered the air.

Will jumped as the bush he was working on came crashing down on top of him in a shower of leaves and branches. He tried to struggle free, finally coming up with twigs and leaves stuck in his hair. He looked startled at the pruning shears, then at what was left of the bush and realized he had been a little too enthusiastic in his clipping and had cut through the trunk.

Brody stood up, clapping slowly. "Well done," he said sarcastically, while Lisa tried not to laugh at him.

Will scowled darkly and pulled some leaves out of his shirt, tossing them aside as he began to curse loudly his own stupidity. Both Brody and Lisa were now laughing at him openly. "Ok, enough," he said, muttering darkly as he began to pick up the branches of the recently departed bush and began to stuff them into a trash bag. "It's not that funny."

"Yeah, well from over here it's hilarious," Brody said, sitting back down on the steps. "So, idjit, whatcha gonna do now?"

Will stuffed another branch into the bag and stared at the bush stump sticking out of the ground like a stricken finger, looking horribly barren in the unusually lush garden. Brody's grandmother, who had left him the house when she had passed, had loved her garden and Will in turn had taken to tending it. He was slowly realizing that it was now very much his garden and that pretty soon it would be following the bush into oblivion if he kept going the way that he was.

"I, uhh..." He chewed his lip, "Well, this is going to suck."

Lisa emerged from the house with three mugs of coffee and handed them out, touching Will's arm reassuringly, "Well, at least we won't be short firewood this winter."

Will sipped his coffee staring about him at the garden; he did like it but the way his luck was (grade A klutz that he was) this was probably going to be short-lived. He could probably slowly switch the flowers and things to plants that were low maintenance, like bushes...

He glanced at the pile of branches that had once been a bush; okay, maybe not.

Then an idea hit him; he smirked to himself as he walked into the house and made a call.

* * *

Little Peter stared at the devastation of the yard wrought by a mad Brit with hedge clippers. He was decked out for the sun: khaki shorts and this nightmarishly garish Hawaiian shirt with palm trees and flamingos on it. His bright blonde hair spilled out of a visor cap making him look for all the world like a Californian surfer, and he could have passed for one were it not for his tinny Ontario accent whenever he spoke.

"What happened to the bush?" he asked in wonder.

"I think he killed it," Brody said, looking up from his book again. Lisa had moved a deck chair from the back garden and was sunning herself on the lawn, smeared in cocoa butter and wearing a bathing suit as she lounged. She was settling in comfortably to what she felt as her rightful place at the house; she was, after all, part of the family.

Little Peter hadn't looked once, confirming Will's suspicions, but that wasn't why he'd invited the kid over. He sucked in a deep breath and rested his hands on his hips, "Well, as you can see, I have a bit of a problem."

Peter nodded mutely, Mister Carter was understating things a bit; from the looks of the garden it had been dying steadily for a couple of years. The grass was patchy and the flowerbeds needed work. Peter's mom took great pride in her garden, dragging his brother and him to the Canadian Tire garden center every weekend so that she could pick up supplies. Even if his brother preferred to play baseball and horse around, Peter enjoyed the time he spent with his mother in the garden; it was quiet and it was just them; he'd learned a lot from her.

He shyly looked up at Mister Carter who still had a twig sticking out of his hair, which made him look funny.

"Well," Mister Carter continued glancing down at him, "I figured I'd offer you ten bucks a week and turn you loose in the garden and see what happens." He scratched his ear and looked about him helplessly, "If you want to earn the cash."

Peter nodded as he bent down to poke the soil of the flowerbeds, feeling how dry it was. He looked up. "Okay," he said quietly.

"Great," Will said, glancing back at Brody who was watching the exchange over his book. Hopefully, exposing the kid to some of his friends who had no concept of shyness whatsoever might help coax the kid out of his shell and give him a bit of confidence.

Peter was fast becoming Will's pet project, probably because he felt for the kid; he knew what he had to be going through, trying to figure out who he was on his own. But if Brody could have such an impact on an awkward Brit maybe he would do the same for a wannabe surfer.

"Well, go nuts," Will said with a shrug, taking a draught on his coffee as he walked back to the open garage where the tools were kept. He jumped as a horn beeped at him and the Mustang pulled into the driveway. Will waved at Andrew as he and Jared climbed out of the car, both in hockey jerseys.

"Game on?" Will inquired, as he set the mug down on the cluttered work table and began to look for nails. With Peter working in the garden that left Will with the time he needed to fix the porch.

"Nahh," Andrew said, coming up behind Will to wrap his arms around him and rest his chin on Will's shoulder. "We were just down at the hockey camp."

Will looked surprised, "I thought you'd turned Uncle Hubert down."

"It's only on the weekends," Andrew shrugged refusing to let go of Will as he just held on loosely. He watched as Will picked through a bucket of nails and pulled down a hammer.

"Well, I'm glad," Will said with a smile. "You're happiest on skates."

"Nope," Andrew said squeezing Will tightly. "I'm happiest right now."

"Oh, get a room," Jared said with a grin and a roll of his eyes. "You two are utterly disgustingly in love."

Will grinned as he picked up the hammer and turned to face Andrew, "I really should fix the porch."

"Uh huh," Andrew said, still not letting him go.

"Well, that would require me actually getting to the porch," Will stated, looking down at Andrew holding him in place.

"Uh huh," Andrew said with a grin.

"Uh-oh," Will stated, knowing all too well that look in Andrew's eyes.

"Uh huh," Andrew said, his grin getting broader, and he pulled Will in tightly against him as he huffed to blow the hair out of his eyes, grinning like a maniac.

"Oh, I am so in need of new friends," Jared exclaimed dramatically as he walked out of the garage to join Lisa and Brody in the garden.

"I think you scared him off," Will said smirking, still holding the hammer.

Andrew kissed him and Will dropped the hammer as he was pushed back against the workbench, Andrew's hands already roaming to the buttons of his shirt. He pulled back a second and grinned again as he reached up to pull a twig from Will's hair, holding it up questioningly.

"Don't ask," Will said shaking his head, feeling the edge of the workbench digging into his back. "Now, get off me," he said smiling as he pushed out of Andrew's embrace. "Later. I have to fix the porch."

Andrew advanced on him again as Will picked up the hammer, circling back around Brody's truck that was sitting in the middle of the garage, "Look, can we talk about this?"

"Uh-uh," Andrew said, still grinning playfully as he lunged to try and catch Will. Will quickly dodged away dancing out of reach as he grinned back.

"Okay, okay, look; later, I promise..."

"Uh-uh," Andrew repeated, taking another lunge as Will made a dash for the open garage doors.

The two collided and went sprawling end over end, wrestling on the front lawn. Andrew, being naturally more athletic and used to tussling his entire life, easily pinned Will beneath him by straddling his chest and keeping his knees on Will's arms.

Will looked up helplessly. "I surrender?" he sounded hopefully.

Andrew smiled down at him. "You always do," he said with a smug look.

Will turned his head to where Lisa, Brody and Jared were trying hard not to laugh at his current predicament. Bewildered, little Peter just stared, a hose in his hands that he had been using to water the flowerbeds.

Will chuckled, "Peter McCormick, Andrew Highmore."

Peter offered a small wave, still not quite knowing what to make of it, but a smile played across his face when he clued in.

Andrew smiled and got up, helping Will to his feet. "Hey Pete," he said, brushing Will down to clean off the dust and dirt. "Welcome to the madness."

Will endeavoured to regain his dignity, walking over to Peter and clapping him on the shoulder, "Peter's going to be taking care of the garden."

"Cool," Andrew said nodding to Peter. But that look changed to surprise as Will plucked the hose from Peter's hand and turned it on Andrew. "Hey!" he bellowed, soaked to the skin in seconds.

Will smirked as he handed it back to Peter, "That ought to..." He jumped as Peter grinned and turned it on him. The thirteen-year-old grinned like a madman as Will leapt away from him.

The water fight only escalated from there, as college students, high-schoolers and junior high kids all devolved into elementary school screaming and chasing after each other with water.

p style="text-align: center;"> THE END
Copyright © 2010 By Christopher Patrick Lydon; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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