Chapter 2

GABRIEL

He turned the page of the latest Jack Ryan thriller, enjoying the early summer morning in the park. Grandma was focused on balancing on her left leg as she transitioned to another stance with her tai chi group. He loved the fact that Granddad was able to give her such a luxurious retirement.

His grandfather was a general practitioner who had a practice in a small farming town where most of his patients paid him with produce. Grandma had been a midwife at the hospital where he did his residency, and they had Gabriel’s dad shortly after marrying. When a hospital was built in the county, Granddad became the head practitioner, and this helped him send Adam—Gabriel’s dad—to study surgical medicine. Adam met Hannah, a neurosurgeon, and they worked together to build the family medical practice.

“It’s not working, Riley.”

Gabe looked over at the disappointment in the little boy’s voice. There were three of them bending over a picnic table staring at a soda bottle with liquid in it. The eldest, no older than twelve, looked at the concoction as he scratched his head.

“It worked in class when Mister Kramer did it.”

“Oh.”

Gabe laughed at the host of expressions the small statement held. He closed his book and walked over to the group. “Hey, guys.”

They returned his greeting, their unhappiness clear on their faces as he sat on the edge of the table and looked over the items that were strewn over its surface. The cut soda bottle, vinegar, baking soda, laundry detergent, and water reminded him of the crap he got into with his unit a few years ago.

“Bubble bomb?” he asked the oldest boy.

“Yes, sir.”

Gabe nodded as he picked up the flopped mixture. “How did you measure this, Mister…?”

“Riley Rexton, sir. These are my brothers, Ryan and Ryder.” They had the same shade of red hair and blue eyes, and Gabe could imagine the scrapes the three boys would get into. “I sorta poured it in till it bubbled.”

“Whew!” Gabe whistled. “You wanna lose fingers, buddy?”

Their eyes widened as they looked at him. “No—no, sir!”

“Safety first, ~always~.” Gabe scowled at them until they nodded enthusiastically. “Second, always measure. Whether it's baking, cooking, or making bubble bombs, you need to measure sh—stuff.”

“We didn’t bring no spoons, sir…,” one of the twins whispered.

Gabe shook his head from side to side as he considered a solution. “If we don’t have the proper tools, we improvise. Riley?”

The boy straightened his spine as he looked at Gabe who handed him some money.

“Why are you givin’ him money, mister?” Gabe smiled at the suspicious question of the one twin and ruffled his hair.

“Because he is going to that gentleman over there and buying four cans of soda—you guys are allowed to drink soda?” They nodded their heads vigorously though the suspicious boy still frowned at Gabe. “And ask him if he has two plastic cups for us.”

Gabe spied movement out of the corner of his eye and saw a woman standing just within hearing range. She wasn’t very tall but slender, and he could see by the shade of her hair that she was the boys’ mother. He nodded his head at her, and she mouthed a greeting at him in return.

He took a notebook and pencil from one of the pockets of his black field pants and set it on the table. “Do you have clear handwriting, Ryan?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Write this down.” He recited the recipe for a bubble bomb and instructed the boy to add the adjustments just as Riley set the cans on the table. He took his pocketknife and cut the closed end of a cup. “Ryder, can you measure baking soda into this?”

He watched as the boy carefully measured as Gabe rinsed the soda bottle. He gave each of the boys a task in the makeup of the bomb, showing them how to add some of the blue soda that he shook the gas out of, keeping the most volatile part for himself.

“You guys ready?” Three pairs of excited eyes flicked between him and the mixture in his hand. “Okay, go stand by your mama, ’cause this could get messy.”

He made sure they were out of range before he added the vinegar and hightailed it to the group as the mixture fizzed and bubbled. He turned in time to watch the concoction spray into the air, sending plumes of foam from the bottle, and the boys yelped and crowed in delight as though they were watching fireworks at the Fourth of July party.

“Gabriel Raphael Adam Von Ashner!” Five pairs of eyes turned to see Grandma heading in their direction. Gabe bit down hard on his bottom lip as he watched the fury in his grandmother’s steps, her freshly styled gray perm slathered in blue sludge that ran down her face and left bright trails down her cream tracksuit and white deck shoes.

“Oh no…,” he breathed. “Third rule, boys, always make sure that what goes up does ~not~ come down on your grandmother.”

***

“What other kinds of bombs do you know how to make, Mister Von Ashner?”

Gabe looked at Tracy and shook his head. His grandma had only spoken to him if he took the boys’ mother to dinner as an apology, and she agreed to babysit the boys on condition that they didn’t do any more crazy experiments. That is how he found himself sitting in the fancy restaurant, the white tablecloths so bright, they made the candles redundant. He took a sip of the deep red merlot and thought that she was really pretty.

Her creamy skin was emphasized by the burned orange blouse she had teamed with black pants, her auburn hair elegantly tamed in a fancy hairstyle. She wore a pair of dangly silver earrings with tiny roses at the ends that matched the necklace settled above her cleavage. She was a teacher at the local middle school and had lost her husband the year before to cancer.

What he had liked was that she had set out her terms as soon as they had sat down, explaining that Gabe was the first guy she felt comfortable enough to go out with but that she wasn’t looking for more than friendship. Something he readily agreed to. This led to an easy conversation between them that was honest and without the reserve of a normal date.

She raised her eyebrow as she sipped her wine making him smile. “I can possibly make a bomb from anything on this table.”

“Really?” she gasped in shock. “Like ~McGuyver~?”

This had him laughing loudly and nodding. “Something to that effect.”

She looked at him with her head tilted. The statement was simply said, and there was no trace of conceit in his voice.

“So you know sciency stuff?”

“Enough to blow stuff up, yes.”

He raised his eyebrow as she nodded. A movement behind Tracy’s shoulder caught his attention and he frowned as he followed the tall figure behind the counter of the open kitchen. The bouncing golden ponytail reminded him so much of the little girl from church. Tracy frowned as she looked over her shoulder to see what he was looking at.

“I’m sorry. The chef just reminded me of someone.”

“An ex?” she teased.

He laughed as he shook his head. He wasn’t willing to share his ~glitter girl~ with anyone yet. “Just someone I’m acquainted with.”

“Okay.” He narrowed his eyes at the easy way she accepted his answer. She saluted him with her glass. “Friends, remember? No benefits.”

Gabe smiled. “I like you, Tracy Rexton.”