The Mechanics of Mistletoe by Liz Isaacson

Author:Liz Isaacson [Isaacson, Liz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AEJ Creative Works
Published: 2020-10-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Bear was sweating when he woke on his birthday. He’d thought the HVAC had just been old in the previous homestead, and Micah had assured him that he’d never be hot if he didn’t want to be in the new house. It had two air conditioners, for crying out loud.

Bear still blew a fan every night, because he’d gotten used to the white noise, and it kept the roosters from waking him before the sun came up. The fan wasn’t blowing right now, though, and he didn’t remember getting up to turn it off in the night.

He hadn’t woken up sweating since the new homestead had been finished, so something was definitely wrong. He padded through the rooms where he lived and into the kitchen. No one was there, and no clock told him the time from the stove or the microwave. “The power is out,” he said. The house sat in deathly silence, and Bear took a moment to think through it.

Ranger probably hadn’t gotten up yet, because he had to set six alarms that went off every ten minutes to get up on time. He still used a digital alarm clock for that, and with the power out, his alarms would be off too.

Bear heard footsteps on the stairs, and a few moments later, Bishop entered the kitchen. “It’s so hot,” he said.

“Power is out,” Bear said, still standing there.

“No coffee?”

“I doubt it,” Bear said.

“Can we run the generator?” Bishop looked at Bear with such hope in his eyes, and Bear didn’t want to argue with his brother. There wasn’t a pressing situation like there had been with the tornado, and he finally nodded.

“I’ll go fire ‘er up,” Bishop said. “And make the coffee.”

“I’ll go get Ranger out of bed.” Bear and Bishop separated, and Bear really hoped that the power being out wasn’t an omen of what his birthday would be like.

He moved through the foyer to the stairs and stopped, looking back to the front door. Someone had taped an envelope about the size of a greeting card there, and his name had been written on it.

His heart flipped over and started beating faster. Stepping over to the door, he swallowed and told himself to be calm. It was definitely Sammy’s writing—he’d seen her receipts plenty of times—and she’d likely just taped the card there when she’d left last night.

He had no reason to go into the foyer, so she’d known he wouldn’t see it until this morning. He smiled as he pulled the card down and flipped it over. He opened the envelope and pulled out the card.

A picture of a teddy bear sat there, holding a heart with a five in it. Bear started to laugh at Sammy’s drawn-in four in front of the five, and he opened the card.

Happy birthday, Bear! Sammy had written. Keep your eyes peeled around the ranch today to stay safe. See you tonight.

She’d drawn a heart, which made Bear’s heart do somersaults, and then signed her name. That was loopy, with rounded humps for those M’s in her name.

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