You can catch up with the previous parts of this short story HERE.
The election had been brutal. There was no denying it. Worse than the campaigning, the traveling, the long days, had been the media coverage; non-stop negative stories aimed at destroying Matthew Grant before he could even open his mouth. The media machine was out of control. There was no denying it, especially after that first month of campaigning when one of the state’s biggest newspapers had questioned his staff’s lack of diversity.
From there it had been combing through Matt and Liam’s social media accounts, searching for anything that would sink them in the political arena. One rogue satirical Tweet from his college days, labeled as sexist by feminists, dominated headlines for a few days, but as it always was with the current 24-hour/7-day a week news cycle, the press had turned it’s hungry eyes to another candidate, another subject the following week.
The polls showed Matt losing and big, right up until election day, but the night of the election the numbers had come in fast and furious late in the evening. Matt had won by a landslide. Apparently the silent voters, the one who didn’t want to be yelled at or condemned for their opinions, had come out in droves and sent a hard message home to the incumbent and his political party: “We’ve had enough of the status quo and of corrupt politicians with empty promises and even emptier apologies.”
Matt knew, though, that in six months he could be in the same boat and it could be his rear end with the boot of the voter against it as they shoved him out the door. Voters, like public opinion, were fickle and ever changing and some days nothing a congressman did could make anyone happy. Matt had only been a congressman for two years but he felt like it had been ten. Now he had a small idea why so many presidents went gray while in office, though thankfully he didn’t have the same pressure as a president.
He yawned, stretching his arms out as if he intended to stand up and head up to bed, but he didn’t. Instead he fell back on the couch again, remote in hand. He surfed streaming services, suggested shows and movies scrolling by his eyes, but he wasn’t really seeing any of it. His mind had slipped back to two and a half years ago, to near the end of the election when the news stories were at their worst. He was being called a racist, anti-woman, anti-this, anti-that. He had lost count of all the names they had called him during that time.
“Is this even worth it?” he asked Cassie one night in bed, snuggled close against her.
“If you can get in there and really help facilitate some change, then, yes, it’s worth it,” she assured him.
But then the win came and with it came more news stories, personal attacks against him and his family. The worst came when one of his staff members brought him an article about Cassie, accusing her of being fired from her previous job.
He was furious. “Where did they even get that story? Cassie was never fired from her job. She left to support me and be with the children.”
Scanning the story he saw a former co-worker of Cassie’s was quoted and offered only summations, not facts. Still, the headline suggested the accusations were true. It wouldn’t have upset Matt as much if it had been about him instead of Cassie. He’d grown accustomed to being accused of inappropriate acts or offensive words, or anything else the press could come up with, but Cassie?
Cassie was off limits.
Only she wasn’t off limits.
She wasn’t off limits because he had made her fair game when he’d decided to accept the party’s urging to run. He’d dragged her out into the open and essentially thrown her to the wolves. The story had been pushed to the side quickly in a few days with another news story, about another congressman, overshadowing it. The fast pace of the 24/7 news cycle was one of the only good aspects of it. It meant a story that was in the forefront one day, was gone by the next day and even though the story on Cassie had faded fast, he still felt incredible guilt about how much he’d exposed his family during this process.
He’d always wanted to protect Cassie now he didn’t know how to. The negativity was coming at him from every side in a hyper-political atmosphere that was beginning to suffocate him.
His phone rang and he glanced at the ID before answering it.
“Hey, bro,” he said to Liam. “You hanging in there?”
“Yeah. Locked myself in my office. You?”
“Yeah. Feels weird just to be sitting at home.”
“A good weird or a bad weird?”
“Both.”
“Things okay with Cassie? The kids?”
“Kids are doing great. They don’t know much about what’s going on. Cassie’s . . . okay, I guess. She seems tired.”
“Is she mad at you for all this?”
Matt laughed. “She doesn’t seem mad, really. She just seems like Cassie. She’s cooking for the kids and me, cleaning, checking on her parents.”
“Did you ask her if she was okay?” Liam asked.
“Yeah, she said she’s fine.”
Matt heard a small laugh on the other end of the phone.
“What?” he asked. “No, don’t even say it. You think ‘I’m fine’ is code for something else.”
“You know I’m not expert on women,” Liam started.
“Uh, obviously,” Matt snorted.
“But, I am learning during this that apparently when a woman says she’s okay, she’s really not,” Liam continued. “I didn’t know that Maddie was struggling, Matt. I just thought she hated me, that I was doing everything wrong, but I think she feels — I don’t know. Abandoned. She pretty much told me she feels like I abandoned her.”
Matt sighed, laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He slid his arm behind his head. “In what way did you abandon her?”
“Staying at work too much, for one,” Liam answered. “She says I worked more so I didn’t have to face us losing the babies.”
“Did you?”
“No, I . . .”
Liam’s voice trailed off and then there was a brief silence. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah, I did. When you asked me to be your press secretary I jumped at it because I knew I would be so busy I wouldn’t have to think about losing the babies, about that empty hole in the center of my chest.”
Matt sat up, propping his elbow against his knee. “Liam, I’m sorry I was so focused on the election, on me, that I didn’t notice all you were going through.”
“Dude, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I didn’t even admit to myself how much it was bothering me.”
“I know, it’s just — I’m really realizing how out of touch I’ve been with what really matters; you and Maddie, the kids. Cassie. When I decided to run I pulled all of you —”
“Matt,” Liam said. “No. You were doing what you felt was right. And it wasn’t just you who decided to run. We all decided. As a family. We knew this could be rough. Yeah, it’s a little worse than we expected with all the extra political drama going on these days, but we are still in this together. It’s okay. We’re all okay. Well, we will be okay, one way or another anyhow. None of this is your fault.”
Matt flopped back on the couch again. “I know it isn’t. But I still feel . . . guilty. I don’t know. What I do know is that all of this, this forced slow down, has opened my eyes up to what I’ve been missing lately. I don’t like that our family, or our country, is going through this, but it’s putting some things in perspective for me.”
Matt heard his brother sigh on the other end of the phone.
“Yeah,” Liam whispered. “It’s doing the same for me.”
I’m not sharing any new fiction this Friday to give time for people to catch up to what I’ve written so far.
You can catch up with all of the chapters I’ve shared so far here or at the link at the top of the page under The Farmer’s Daughter.
If you’ve already read the chapters so far, I’d love to know in the comments what you think of them and what you think should happen next.
I have also posted another fictional serial, Fully Alive, which you can find here; a short story, Quarantined; and another short story I’ve started called Rekindle.
I’m sharing parts three and four of Rekindle today. To read the first two parts, click HERE.
With the children in bed, it was just Matt and Cassie alone in the living room. Alone. Together. With a canyon of silence between them.
Matt slumped further down on the couch, drumming his fingers on the cushion. He had no idea what to do with himself without hearings to plan for, committee meetings to gather research for or statements to draft for the press with his brother. He should probably be on the phone with John and Liam, preparing their plan of action for when they got back into the office in the next week or so. He looked at his phone on the end of the couch but didn’t feel any motivation to reach for it. In fact, he didn’t feel any motivation at all to deal with his job, especially the press.
He’d already drafted a statement with John. There really wasn’t anything else to say. For now anyhow. He was sure in the next day or so he’d be getting calls from other congressmen and congresswomen looking to set up virtual meetings to draft various bills or establish plans of action for the current situation, but for now his phone had gone silent and he should enjoy the silence while he could. He would have enjoyed it, if it just wasn’t so weird.
He felt his forehead. Maybe he was coming down with that virus after all. He’d been going full bore at his job for two years straight now, but today he’d finally hit some kind of wall. He wasn’t even motivated to reach for the remote and watch television.
He looked over at Cassie sitting sideways on a chair, her legs hanging over the arm of it, her head bent over a book. She was wearing a pair of hot pink short-shorts, a loose fitting white t-shirt and her hair was falling out of a messy bun she’d piled on top of her head. Her long legs were as shapely and attractive as the first day he’d met her. His eyes followed the length of them from her bare toes to the edge of her shorts and remembered the many times his hand had traveled that path over the years.
Desire swelled in his chest as he thought about the night they’d celebrated his congressional win. She’d worn that black skirt with the slit in the side, the slit that went from her knee to the middle of her thigh. Only she hadn’t even known the skirt had that slit until she was at his victory speech and he’d laughed later in the back of Liam’s car when he had watched her try to hold the pieces together, her cheeks flushed pink. Cassie always was fairly modest in how she dressed and he knew she never would have worn the dress if she hadn’t been rushed. The election results came in earlier than expected and she’d snatched the skirt out of her closet, the skirt she’d purchased a few days before but hadn’t had a chance to try on. She knew Matt’s acceptance speech was going to be closely watched by many since he had run against a long-time congressman who had been thrown in the middle of a scandal the year before.
“I can’t believe I wore this skirt to your acceptance speech,” she hissed. “I can imagine what the press will be saying tomorrow.”
“That your gorgeous?”
“Or that I’m a floozy.”
Matt tipped his head all the way back and laughed. “A floozy? What happened right there? Did we just teleport back to the 40s?”
Cassie punched Matt in the upper arm, giggling. “Shut up.”
Back at the house, the children staying with Cassie’s parents, Matt had stood behind Cassie as she unhooked her necklace and took her earrings out.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, stepping closer, reaching out to touch the edge of the skirt. “I really like this skirt.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
His finger found the slit and slipped inside, touching the skin there, on her upper thigh.
His mouth touched her bare neck, his voice husky as he spoke. “All I wanted to do was get back here with you. No kids. All alone. Finally.”
She turned, smiling, pushing her hands into his hair. “And what can we do here, all alone?”
He didn’t need words to answer her question. His mouth found hers while he gently pushed her back toward the bed, lowering her to it.
“You okay over there?”
Cassie’s voice interrupted the memory of his hand traveling under that skirt, up that leg, that night.
“Huh? Oh yeah. Good. I’m good.”
“You miss work, don’t you?”
“Um. No. Actually. I don’t. And that weirds me out a little.”
“Oh.”
She shrugged and turned back to her book. “This break is probably just showing you how burned out you are.”
“I’m not burned out. Am I?”
Cassie was back into her book. “Mmm. If you say so.”
Matt sat up straighter and leaned forward on his knees toward Cassie.
“We haven’t spent a lot of time together lately, have we?
She glanced up from the book, one eyebrow cocked.
“No. Not really, but you’ve been busy. I understand.”
“Do you want to spend more time together? I mean, maybe you’re bored with me? Our life here together?”
Cassie laughed. “Matt, where is this all coming from?” she closed the book. “Is this because of Liam and Maddie?
Matthew shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe. It’s got me thinking a lot, I guess.”
“So? What’s the verdict? Are Liam and Maddie getting a divorce?”
Matt sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, they’ve been meeting with a divorce attorney. The only reason they missed the last meeting was because of this whole debacle.”
He looked at Cassie, watched her watching him and wondered again if Cassie would ever want to divorce him. If she did, he wouldn’t blame her. He’d dragged her into this crazy political world, under a never-satisfied microscope of public scrutiny. The same with the kids. What had he been thinking? Of his constituents? The future of the country? Or had it really just been of himself and his own desire to reach a certain level of success?
“And now they are stuck together in that house,” Maddie said with a shake of her head. “Wow. That has to be super awkward.”
“Yeah. It is. Liam said Maddie accused him of cheating on her.”
Cassie’s eyes widened. “No way.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, did he?”
“Cassie! You know Liam wouldn’t do something like that.”
“I don’t think he would, no, but . . .”
“But what? Men do those things because we’re all jerks, is that what you mean?”
“I’m not saying that but long hours, all those pretty women around, he and Maddie so distant after the miscarriages, especially after the last one.”
Matt was feeling uncomfortable with his wife’s line of thinking. He stood and walked toward the kitchen for a glass of juice. His wife really thought his little brother could cheat on his wife? If she thought that then what did she think of him? He’d been working long hours too. Around a lot of pretty women, many of them more than willing to sleep with a congressman to work their way up the ladder in their careers. Was Cassie drawing a line between the possibility that Liam had cheated to the possibility he had too?
He poured the juice and heard her footsteps behind him. “I’m sorry, Matt. I really can’t see Liam doing that, no. Your brother has just been under a lot of pressure and —”
“Being under pressure doesn’t lean to affairs every time, okay?”
Cassie raised her eyes brows and held up her hands. “Okay. I wasn’t trying to pick a fight. I was just trying to enjoy a quiet night for once with a book. I’ll leave you alone.”
Matt turned toward her. “Cassie, I didn’t mean to start a fight either. I just —”
“It’s fine.” Cassie walked to him and kissed his cheek. She stepped back and looked him in the eyes. “You just need to unwind. You’ve been put through the ringer by the media, other members of congress, and now Liam’s drama. I don’t blame you for being tense. Why don’t you go watch one of your favorite shows. I’m going to turn in early.”
“You don’t need to turn in early.”
Her mind had been made up though. She was weary of discussing Liam and politics and viruses and . . . life, quite frankly.
“I really do need to,” she said softly, already at the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. “See you in the morning, Matt.”
Matt finished his juice and shuffled back to the living room. Watch one of his favorite shows? He didn’t even have any favorite shows. Not current ones anyhow. He never had time to watch television anymore. He sat on the couch and slumped in the corner of it again, even further down this time than before.
He didn’t have time for anything anymore other than political fights and trying to put out fires. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. Dang it. What had he been thinking dragging his family through all of this? Just, seriously, what had he been thinking?
***
Cassie climbed under the covers and flopped on her back to stare at the ceiling, barely lit by the moonlight outside.
What was with all of Matt’s weird questions tonight? The situation with Liam and Maddie must be rattling him even more than she realized. She fluffed up her pillow, hugged it and tried to get more comfortable. It wasn’t working, though. Her mind was racing too much.
She was thinking about viruses and if her family was safe and Liam and Maddie and how to get groceries if they had to shelter in place and the media and what they’d be saying for the rest of the week with Matt and his staff having still worked for a week after they knew they’d been exposed to a contagious virus. She squeezed her eyes shut, took in a deep breath and held it for several seconds before letting it out again. She had to calm down.
She couldn’t deny that there were days she regretted agreeing with Matt that he should run for Congress. They both had such high hopes three years ago; hopes that they could make changes for the voters who had put their faith in Matt, while not being changed. But it was impossible not to be changed by the influences of Washington, D.C. Nothing in this city was like the small upstate New York town Cassie had grown up in and it was also nothing like where she and Matt had lived before he had been elected.
Stevensville, Ohio was small. Very small. It was also still her and Matt’s home in the summers when they left Washington D.C. behind for much needed breaks. Only that break wouldn’t be coming this year. Not with all the craziness about viruses and quarantines and freezes on travel. Cassie wanted to cry but she was afraid to because once she started, she might not stop. She was homesick for Ohio, for her own family, for Matt’s family, for the familiar she’d left behind when Matt was elected two years ago.
She sighed and opened her eyes, looking at the other side of the bed where Matt slept most nights of the week, unless he was working late and then he stayed at John’s apartment, closer to his office. She touched the side of the bed, feeling the cool sheets, thinking of how many nights they’d laid here next to each other, back to back, rarely speaking because she knew he needed his sleep, because she knew he needed to get up early in the morning, because she didn’t want to burden him anymore than he was already burdened.
But she missed him. She missed him holding her and them talking about their future, instead of him telling her about the stress he’d been under that day and then falling into a fitful sleep. She missed his hand on her cheek as he moved closer late at night, a small, mischievous smile that signaled he wasn’t ready for sleep yet.
She missed long, slow kisses, roaming hands, but as much as the physical, she missed the emotional connection they’d once had. The connection when Matt wanted to talk with her before anyone else, when he didn’t want to make a decision unless he’d asked her, and when she’d known so much about his day, his job and his life that it was as if they were thinking like one person.
“Cassie, are you sure you’re okay with this?” he’d asked three and a half years ago when he’d considered running for congress.
“Yeah. I am.”
That’s what she’d said, but she really wasn’t sure she was okay with it. She was okay with Matt wanting to help the people of his small hometown and the surrounding counties by becoming a congressman from Ohio, but she wasn’t really sure she was okay with the lives of their entire family being upended. She’d given up her social worker career five years before, deciding to spend more time at home with the children. Matt’s career as a lawyer had exploded and from there he’d become involved in county politics and then state politics. When the state’s Republican party came to him and asked him to run for Congress, he’d turned them down at first. But after several meetings, a few months of consideration, and talking to Cassie, his parents, his sister and brother, he’d decided to step into an already contentious race for the seat.
From the moment he’d announced to the day he won the seat, the lives of the Grant family had been a whirlwind. After the election, the moving began, the children were enrolled in new schools; every effort was made to ensure that the children and Cassie would see Matt as much as possible, despite his job.
The idea had been a good one, but the execution of it had started to fail within six months. Meetings, conferences, sessions that ran late into the night, and media-made emergencies were constant, taking over every aspect of Matt and Cassie’s life. Matt still made every effort to attend baseball games, dance recitals, and Saturday mornings at the park, in addition to balancing his responsibilities as a congressman, but that left little to almost no time for him and Cassie.
For the most part, Cassie was okay with being the last in line for his attention. She preferred he spend as much time as he could with the children during their formative years. This was a season of life, not a new normal. Time for them, as a couple, would come later, when things slowed down.
If things slow down, Cassie thought, panic suddenly gripping her, like a heavy weight in the center of her chest. If Matt gets reelected we could have another two years of this and maybe even another two after that. . .
She shuddered, pulling the covers up around her, even though it wasn’t that cold in their bedroom. She tried to imagine two more years, or even more, of accusations against her husband, and sometimes even her, in the press. She tried to imagine two more years of barely seeing her husband; of feeling like her husband’s nanny, even though she loved her children desperately; and of constituents confronting her husband when they were out in public, complaining about this or that change he’d promised he’d make if elected but still hadn’t been able to.
Cassie knew it wasn’t only the town she and Matt had lived in before moving here that she was homesick for, or the quiet life they’d led before he’d entered politics. She was homesick for time alone with Matt. She was tired of sharing him with his staff, his fellow congressmen, his constituents, and the press. She was tired of feeling like she was second in line for his attention, even though she knew he didn’t mean to make her feel that way.
Who knows, she thought, feeling sleep finally settling on her. Maybe this quarantine will be good for not only Liam and Maddie but for Matt and me. Maybe I’ll actually get him to myself for once.
I added a little extra to the end of what I shared yesterday for today’s special Saturday fiction. If you want to see Part 1 of Chapter 14 you can see yesterday’s post. To catch up on the entire story you can click HERE.
Pulling up to the farm store, Molly sat outside in her truck, bleary-eyed and unmotivated. She’d barely been able to sleep last night, thinking about Alex and his . . . well, weirdness and about how much she did not want to come to the farm store this morning. She propped her forehead against the steering wheel and groaned. She was in no mood to be perky and she needed to be perky by the time the customers arrived. Some days she took on the motto “fake it until you make it.” Some days, face perkiness was the only way to make it through their day.
“Is this the only milk you have?” a woman had asked last week, looking at her over a pair of sunglasses, one eyebrow raised.
“Yes, ma’am. That’s the company the local farmer’s supply to.”
“Okay, because I’m a vegan and I need something that doesn’t come from a cow.”
“Oh. Well, then . . .”
Molly had had to pause because what she wanted to say was “If you’re vegan, why are you in a store that clearly sells cow milk?” but she glanced at the woman’s cart, full of vegetables and flowers, and decided to cut her some slack. At least she was supporting farmers in her own way.
“Then, I’m sorry,” Molly said. “We don’t carry non-diary options at this time. Maybe you can try the local Weis?”
“You know this little store needs to move with the times,” the woman said unloading the items from her cart to the counter. “Milk from mammals is a thing of the past. The only ones who should be drinking cows milk are baby cows.”
“Mmmm,” Molly responded adding up the items on the cash register. “That will be $75.50.”
If the woman hadn’t been spending so much Molly might would have told her to shove off, but the money was welcome and needed in a time when local farmers were struggling. The money from the Tanner’s store didn’t only benefit the Tanners. It also benefited several families who supplied inventory – from locally raised and butchered pork, beef, and chicken to eggs, homemade furniture and hand-sewn blankets and quilts. Losing customers could mean losing income for these families as well.
Thankfully the woman left without anymore comments, though a ‘thank you’ would have been nice.
Some days Molly wondered if this would be her entire life; sitting in her family’s story, being lectured by people who called themselves “woke” about what to eat and how to live. She wondered if she’d always be just the farmer’s daughter.
Walking into the store through the backdoor she heard her Aunt Hannah talking in the office.
“I am nervous about the meeting, yes. And I’m nervous because I don’t know how we are going to come up with the money to pay off this loan.”
Molly paused outside the closed door.
What loan?
“Let’s talk to Bill and see what can be worked out,” her Uncle Walt said softly.
“I would have talked to Bill a long time ago if I had known what was going on,” Hannah said curtly.
“Hannah, Robert told me he explained why —”
“I know,” Hannah interrupted, her voice less tense than before. “I’m sorry. I’m just anxious. I’ve been looking at the numbers this morning. They aren’t great. I’m worried we won’t be able to do this, Walt.”
Numbers? What numbers? Molly’s mind started racing. Was the farm in trouble? And if so, why hadn’t her parents told her?
Her hand hovered over the door handle and she thought about walking in and asking Hannah what was going on, but thought better of it. If her family wanted her to know what was going on, they’d tell her, and, to be honest, she felt too drained to add anymore to her mental que to think about.
She continued her path to the front counter where Ellie was already loading the cash register.
Ellie glanced up as she counted. “Fifty, seventy . . . Hey, Mol. You look wiped today. Eighty…rough morning in the barn?”
“No, just . . .tired.”
Molly didn’t feel like talking about all her worries with her brother’s attractive girlfriend, even though she’d known Ellie for years and they were only a couple of years apart in age and she considered Ellie a friend.
“Ninety. One hundred.”
Ellie shoved the final bill into the drawer and wrote down the amount on the sheet next to the register.
“Looks like a nice day ahead,” she said. “That will probably bring out the gardeners.”
Molly groaned. “Oh no. With gardeners come all the weird questions about which tomatoes I think are best and what kind of squash grows better in what month? You would think after all these years working here I would know.”
Ellie shrugged. “I don’t know either. I just refer them to your aunt.”
Molly’s aunt. That word sent her back to think about what her aunt had said, about the loan and numbers. She sipped the coffee she’d brought with her in a tumbler and sat on the stool behind the counter.
She wondered again why her parents hadn’t said anything to her about it all. Then she wondered if Jason even knew. Were they trying to shelter her? She didn’t need to be sheltered. She needed to be told the truth.
“So Jason is taking me out this weekend for our anniversary,” Ellie said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Oh yeah? Where to?”
“He won’t tell me.
Molly hated the look of excited anticipation in Ellie’s eyes. Every year on June 24th for the last four years Jason took her out for dinner to celebrate their night of their first date after he came back from college. And every year on June 25th, Ellie relayed how wonderful the night had been but in a tone tinged with disappointment. Molly still couldn’t understand what was taking Jason so long to propose to Ellie.
They were perfect for each other. Ellie and Jason were both farm kids, for lack of a better term, both Christians, both loved sappy romantic movies (though Jason refused to admit it), and both wanted to continue farming, either on a farm of their own or on the Tanner’s farm. Molly was tired of facing Ellie Fitzgerald’s forced smile overshadowed by sad eyes every June 25th. She needed to ask Jason what the deal was already. Why was he dragging his feet on proposing to the woman that Molly, and he, knew was the only woman for him?
***
Franny couldn’t get over the size of her grandson. He now towered over her when he’d once been small enough for her to sit on her knee and hear about his day. She guessed him to be over six foot now and maybe — she tipped her head and looked him up and down as he placed a box on her counter — maybe 210 pounds, with a good amount of that weight being muscle.
“So mom sent some of her famous chicken soup over,” Jason was saying, sitting a large sealed bowl on the table. “Biscuits and a side of carrots too.”
He might be big now and speak with a deep, mainly voice, but Jason was still Franny’s sweet boy and she was proud of him the same way she was of Molly.
“That’s very nice, hon’” she told Jason. “You tell Annie thank you for me. What happened? You get the short straw and had to take your cantankerous grandmother dinner?”
Jason laughed, bending down and kissing Franny’s cheek. “Now, grandma, you know I love coming to see you. Aunt Hannah has a PTA meeting tonight so mom offered to cook some dinner to you and I actually asked to bring it.”
Jason sat on the chair across from his grandmother and leaned back, stretching a long leg out in front of him. Franny braced herself. It looked like he was going to launch into a heart-to-heart and she wasn’t sure she was up to it this evening. He folded his hands across his stomach, and she was reminded again how much he looked like his father; her serious, thoughtful oldest son Robert.
And like Robert, Jason didn’t pull punches. “So, what’s going on with you, Grandma? You know you can tell me. I’ve noticed how down you’ve been and we’ve missed you in church.”
Franny avoided his eyes, stirring her spoon in the soup. “I’m fine, Jason.”
“You’re anything but fine. Out with it. Is it your eyes?”
Darn it, that Jason. He always was observant. To a fault in this case.
“How did you know about my eyes?”
“I’ve noticed you bumping into tables when I’ve been here, squinting through your glasses.”
She cleared her throat. “Well, yes, I am concerned about them.”
“Do you think it could be macular degeneration?”
“I don’t know. I’ve heard of that but I’m not really familiar with it.”
“Ellie’s grandma has it. Her eyesight is slowly detorating. But maybe yours isn’t that bad. We can go see Dr. Fisher and it could turn out you just need a prescription.”
“Ah, now. Speaking of Ellie —”
“Grandma, we’re talking about you right now.”
“We’ll get back to that. Let’s talk about Ellie and why you’re not proposing to her.”
“Grandma…”
“Jason, honey, she’s the girl for you. You believe that, right?
Jason laughed softly and cleared his throat. “Yes, Grandma. I really do.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Jason softly groaned and covered his face with his hands, leaning his head back. “Grandma. . .”
“Don’t let her get away from you, Jason. Do you hear me?”
Jason looked at his grandma, his face flushed but a smile tugging at his mouth. “Yes, ma’am. I do, but right now we are talking about your eyesight. I can drive you to Dr. Fisher. Let’s find out what’s going on. It may not be as bad as you think, okay?”
Franny sipped from her glass of water, a small smile flicking across her lips. “Okay. I’ll make you a deal, Jason Andrew Tanner. I’ll let you take me to Dr. Fisher if you agree to propose to that lovely Ellie.” She reached her hand out toward her grandson. “Deal?”
Jason tipped his head back and let out a deep laugh. He shook his head and chewed his lower lip for a moment, rubbing his chin as he looked at his grandmother’s hand. He couldn’t lie to himself; he was scared to propose to Ellie in some ways, but he knew his grandmother was right. Ellie was his best friend and the only woman he could imagine being married to.
“Yeah, okay, grandma.” He took her hand gently. “Deal.”
I wrote Quarantined as a short story back in April. I’ve decided to combine it with a follow-up story called Rekindle and release it at some point on Kindle Unlimited as a novella under the title Quarantined. I shared the first part of Rekindle about a month ago, but instead of linking to it, I thought I’d just share part one and two here today.
Matt Grant tapped the end button on the screen of his phone and laid the phone on the coffee table next to his laptop and paperwork. He rubbed his hand across his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a tension headache pulsating in his temples.
He’d just got off the phone with his assistant press secretary, John Chambers. They’d drafted another statement for the media, answering accusations that Matt was still at work in his office in the House of Representatives.
“Just make sure they know I’m at home, self-quarantining, just like my doctor told me to,” Matt had told John, more than a touch of annoyance in his voice.
“I’m making sure,” John said. “I’m assuring them all of us are safely locked away now. Just like the critics seem to think we should be, even though our preliminary tests are inconclusive. I doubt this will satisfy them, but we can try.”
With the statement to the press out of the way, Matt’s mind wandered back to his brother Liam, who he needed to call and check on. Liam’s preliminary test had been positive, which was what had triggered this latest scandal in the first place. Matt was sure Liam would be fine but there was a small part of him that worried about his little brother catching the virus that was sending others to ICUs across the country. Matt wasn’t only worried about Liam’s physical help though. He was also worried about his mental and emotional health.
Liam had told Matt months ago that his marriage was in shambles. Matt had barely listened, sure his brother and sister-in-law would work things out. Matthew knew Liam still loved his wife Maddie, and Maddie still loved Liam. If they didn’t still love each other they wouldn’t be struggling so much with the idea of divorce.
It couldn’t be easy being quarantined together during a pandemic with all the issues they had with each other but Matthew was glad they were. Maybe they’d work out some of those issues and save what had been a great union at one time. As it was, their divorce proceedings had been delayed because of the pandemic. As Matthew saw it, this was a way for them to buy more time and truly be sure the divorce was what they wanted and he told his brother as much on the phone just now.
What made Matthew uncomfortable wasn’t only that he could hear pain mixed with longing in his brother’s voice when they had talked on the video call. It was also that he wondered, worried even, that maybe his marriage was bleeding out in the same way his younger brother’s had and he had been too wrapped up in himself to realize it.
Matthew and Cassie hadn’t had a lot of time alone lately. They actually had barely had time to even speak lately.
Their life had been a runaway train since the election two years ago and now it was picking up speed again as Matthew’s re-election campaign was underway. In Washington he faced daily drama and conflict whether he wanted it or not. Becoming the youngest head of the Intel Committee four months ago hadn’t helped slow things down any either.
Then there was this crazy never-before-seen virus that seemed to come out of nowhere a few weeks ago and now had him at home with his family, waiting to see if he developed any symptoms after being exposed to it more than a week ago and maybe again a few days ago. He was convinced if he had the virus, he would have developed symptoms by now, but he stayed home to make sure things looked good to the press and his constituents. Making sure things “looked good and right” to others seemed to be 90 percent of his job anymore, leaving little room for him to actually do good and right and accomplish the things he’d been elected to do.
All the drama in the House of Representatives left him little time to focus on Cassie or the kids and he regretted that. He regretted it even more when his brother’s march toward divorce had become a growing reality. He’d never pictured Liam and Maddie divorced. They were the perfect couple. They’d weathered some hard storms, but Matthew had been sure the challenges would bring them closer together. In fact, he thought it had but now he realized he’d been too wrapped up in the campaign and job to notice how much they’d actually drifted apart.
Sure, Liam, as his press secretary, spent many late nights working with him, but he imagined when he went home he and Maddie made up for lost time. Instead Matt had just learned that Liam had been working at home as well, passing out in his office, leaving Maddie alone most of the time, writing her romance novels and reaching for companionship on social media.
Matthew and Liam’s parents had been the perfect example of a stable, loving marriage. Married 54 years, Tom and Phyllis Grant made it clear each day how much they loved each other. Sure, they had argued, even in front of their children, but those arguments had been resolved usually before the sun had gone down and with a fair amount of ‘making up’. Matthew and Liam, and his sister Lana had been grateful the majority of that making up had gone on behind closed doors.
Standing from the couch to stretch, Matthew looked out the window at his own three children playing ball in the backyard and felt a twinge of guilt. Getting pregnant and carrying three babies to term had been easy for him and Cassie. They’d never had to face the heartbreak of not being able to get pregnant or of a miscarriage. Matthew felt like he’d taken being able to become a father so easily for granted.
He looked around his living room, well decorated with expensive furniture and commissioned paintings, and thought about how much of his life he had taken for granted, especially lately. He’d taken for granted the newer model car he drove, the highly-rated bed he slept on, the full refrigerator, and even fuller bank account.
He rubbed his hand along his chin and turned toward the kitchen where Cassie was making a late lunch for him and the kids. Her dark brown hair fell to her waist in a tight braid, the bottom of it grazing the top of the waistband of a pair of red workout shorts. Her favorite T-shirt, featuring Johnny Cash wearing a cowboy hat, fit her medium build well, hugging all the areas it should, especially for the benefit of her husband admiring the view that he hadn’t admired for a long time.
He watched her stirring the taco meat in the skillet and his gaze traveled down her legs and back up again, thinking about the first time they’d met in an English lecture at college.
“Pst.”
He’d leaned over the desk to try to get her attention, but she was intently focused on the professor. He had tried again.
“Pst.”
She glared over her shoulder at him.
“Do you have an extra pen?” he whispered.
She rolled her eyes, ignored him, tapping the end of her own pen against her cheek gently as she kept her eyes focused forward.
“It’s just,” he leaned a little closer so he didn’t interrupt the other students. “I left my pen back in my dorm room and I want to make sure I’m taking notes.”
He was glad he had leaned a little closer. She smelled amazing. What was that perfume? He had no idea but it was intoxicating. Maybe it was her shampoo. The fluorescent light from the lecture hall was reflecting off her luxurious black strands of hair and he pondered what it would feel like to reach out and touch it. But he didn’t reach out and touch it. That would be weird. Even a 19-year old college freshman like himself knew that.
A year later, though, he was touching that soft dark hair while he kissed Cassie for the first time outside her dorm after their third date. And over the years he’d sank his hands in that hair in moments of tenderness and moments of passion. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched his wife and thought about a few of those moments, including that time in the back of his new car after he’d landed that job at the law firm in Detroit.
He could deny it. It wasn’t only the material things of his life that he had taken for granted. He had also been taking Cassie for granted. For far too long.
***
Cassie Grant turned from where she was cooking lunch for her husband and children and watched her husband pace back and forth in the living room.
She knew he was worried about the situation with the virus, the way his office had been thrown into the middle of an unexpected scandal. She was sure he was also worried about whether he’d develop symptoms of the virus, pass it on to the children, and if his other staff members would be infected, now that it looked like Liam’s test for it was positive. Too little was known about how the virus affected the majority of people, although early reports stated that most cases were mild.
And then there was Liam and Maddie’s marriage, which was about to end. Matt and his brother had been raised by parents who had been married 54 years. The brothers and their sister weren’t a product of divorce and Cassie wondered if the prospect of Liam’s marriage ending was weighing on Matt’s mind along with the virus.
Cassie wasn’t sure what her husband was thinking anymore, though, because Matt hadn’t been talking to her much lately. He’d been busy at the office, putting out fires, which seemed to pop up several times throughout the day, thanks to a 24/7 news cycle that never let up.
She couldn’t deny that she missed seeing her husband. She missed their date nights and family movie nights and him just being around the house when she needed him. But she knew that he was doing what he thought was right to try to make a difference for the people who elected him.
Turning the burner down she leaned back against the counter and watched Matt turn and look out the window where their children were playing. Her gaze fell on the back of his head, on his soft brown hair and she remembered with a soft laugh that day in college when they’d been studying in a private room on the first floor of the university library. The love seat they were sitting on was soft, plush, light maroon.
Papers and books were spread out in front of them and Matt was debating the importance of some moment in history to the future of something or other. Cassie didn’t know. She’d tuned him out long ago. She’d been watching him, though, amazed at how impassioned he was about the topic at hand, at the muscles in his jaw, at his long, strong fingers, at a strand of hair that had fallen across his forehead that she desperately wanted to push to the side. And she’d definitely been watching his mouth, his lips looking amazingly kissable.
Cassie was sick of listening to him quite frankly.
“Cassie, don’t you see that —”
Matt’s words were cut short as Cassie leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his, touching the side of his face gently. She pulled back and looked at him, her mouth still inches from his.
“Oh. Um. Okay. Was I talking too —”
“Just shut up, Matt.”
He laughed softly and she caught his mouth with hers again, sinking her hands into his hair, moving closer to him at the same time he moved closer to her.
He slid his arm around her and held her to him gently as the kiss continued.
“So, I guess you weren’t only interested in me as a study partner,” he said breathlessly a few moments later.
“Is that the only way you were interested in me?” she asked, her fingers still in his hair, playing with it.
A grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “What do you think Cassie Henderson?”
She answered with another kiss, and they leaned back against the seat as they kissed, forgetting they were in a study room in the library.
Three years later they were married, a year later their first, a boy, was born. That had been 15 years ago and now they had three children, an expensive home in the suburbs of Washington, D.C., and Matt was a U.S. Congressman while she stayed home with the children, her career as a social worker long behind her.
Sure, some of that initial passion was gone, replaced with the everyday and the mundane, but Cassie recognized this as a season – a season during which marriage became more about comfortable moments and less about desire. It wasn’t that she didn’t have desire for Matt; it was just that they never seemed to have time for it anymore.
She startled out of her thoughts, smelling something burning.
“Oh no!”
She rushed to the stove and turned it down, smoke billowing from the skillet where she’d been browning meat for tacos. She moved the skillet to another burner and groaned. It looked like they’d be having peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch today.
The blaring of the smoke alarm only made the humiliation that much worse.
Matt rushed into the kitchen, waving a newspaper at the smoke. “Whoa there! Let’s not add burned down house to our list of bizarre occurrences for the month.”
“Sorry. I guess I got distracted.”
Matt pulled the battery from the fire alarm. “No big deal, right? It might can be salvaged.”
He grimaced at the charged edges of the meat in the pan. “Or maybe the dog would like a treat.”
Cassie sighed. “I’m not sure even Barney should eat that. Anyhow, I’ll make the kids some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You want one?”
“You know what? Yeah. I haven’t one of those in years. Crustless?”
Cassie shook her head. “What are you, 6?”
“Just for sentimental reasons,” Matt said with a wink. “My mom used to make them that way for me.”
Cassie pulled the bread out of the bread box and Matt slid the peanut butter and jelly across the counter.
“So, being quarantined with me has to be pretty boring for you, huh?” he asked.
“Not really,” she said with a smile, spreading peanut butter on slices of bread. “But it is weird seeing you here this time of day or, well, much at all.”
Matt winced softly. “Ouch.”
“Well, it’s not your fault. You’re busy.” He couldn’t read her tone of voice but sadly it seemed more apathetic, more along the line of “that’s just the way it is” than anything else.
Matt leaned back against the counter, sliding his hands in his dress pants pockets. He looked at his dress shoes, chewing on his bottom lip, thinking. First, he thought about how absent he’d been in his family’s life. Then he thought about how he was quarantined at home but for some reason he was still wearing dress shoes, a dress shirt and tie, as if he was on his way to a meeting or a congressional hearing. He had apparently forgotten how to relax, unwind, and kick back.
He cleared his throat. “I guess I can go to change into something more comfortable. It doesn’t look like I’ll be doing anything business related for a few days anyhow.”
When he returned wearing a pair of sweatpants and a Garth Brooks t-shirt the children were already around the table, munching on sandwiches and drinking chocolate milk.
“Daddy! Sit next to me!” his youngest, Lauren, called, tapping the back of the chair next to her.
“Okay. I can do that.”
His son Tyler eyed him over his glass of chocolate milk as he drank from it. At the age of 13 he waffled between being interested and detached most of the time Matt interacted with him.
“It’s weird seeing you here,” Tyler said bluntly as Matt sat down.
Matt looked into his son’s bright blue eyes, noticing the acne starting to form along the top of his forehead near his closely cropped hairline.
Matt wasn’t sure how to take the comment. Did Tyler mean “good weird” or “bad weird”? Should he ask? Did he even want to know?
Luckily, he didn’t have to decipher his son’s meaning for long.
“But it’s a good weird, right?” Cassie asked, as if she could read Matt’s mind, and after 15-years of marriage, she probably could.
Tyler grinned. “Yeah. It’s a good weird. Just weird.”
Gracie, the middle daughter, smiled sweetly at Matt and then giggled around a mouthful of sandwich.
“I like you being here, Daddy.”
Matt smiled back at her, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his. “I like it too, sweetie. Maybe something good will come out of all of this, huh? At least you will all see me a little more often.”
His gaze focused on Cassie and he saw she was watching him, but again he was having a hard time reading her feelings. Was she happy they’d all be spending more time together? Or was the extra time with him simply a reminder for her how much she didn’t need him around anymore?
I worked on this book this week, finally feeling creative after shutting off the news and social media. I probably wrote 1,000 words Tuesday night, saved and shut off my computer, only to discover that the computer, which saves to Microsoft OneDrive, had not saved any and I mean ANY of my changes that I had worked on for hours that evening.
I had been saving for hours and all of it was gone when I opened it up right before bed to add something. I normally email a copy to myself but it didn’t matter because none of the changes had saved so the emailed copy didn’t have any of the changes or additions either. I have no idea why it happened but now I am working on rewriting entire chapters, fixing errors and rewriting rewrites.
Some days I just want to give up on this silly writing thing but then I remember that no one really reads my stories or books anyhow so this whole writing thing is really just a hobby and I should not be upset by a hobby. Ha! A hobby is for fun so I had fun going back and rewriting all that I had lost and I will be rewriting much of it again in the future when it is all complete.
Anyhow, to catch up with the story, you can click HERE or at the top of the page. This is a work in progress and as always there could be errors, typos, plot holes, etc. that I will hopefully fix in the final draft. My other works of fiction are linked to at the top of the page as well and both of my books are currently on Kindle Unlimited: A Story to Tell and A New Beginning.
The serene scene of cows grazing in a field bright with golden sunlight was in stark contrast to the direct view Molly had of a grieving Alice Stanton. Alice’s hands were pressed to her face, the tears she’d fought to hold back for much of the day spilling down her cheeks and through her fingers.
Alice, a small woman with long dark brown hair streaked with graying highlights that fell to the middle of her back, was known by many in town as usually being upbeat and optimistic in situations others found too overwhelming. Today, though, Alice was the one overwhelmed.
Her cheeks were splotched red from crying and her usual upbeat demeanor had crumbled under the pressure of her family’s financial strain. Her body trembled with each sob and it was all making Molly feel awkward, unsure how to respond to Alice’s tears. But then Molly did what she’d want someone to do for her if she was in the same situation: she pulled Alice into a hug and let Alice cry on her shoulder while stroking Alice’s hair.
The Stanton’s farm had fallen on hard times three years ago and instead of trying to survive another year they had given up, like so many other farmers, filing for bankruptcy and choosing to sell off their animals, equipment and land.
“Oh, Molly,” Alice said as she lifted her face and tried to dry her eyes with an already soaked, crumpled tissue. “I can’t believe this is really happening to us.”
Molly looked across the Stanton’s field at the tractors and farm equipment lined up in rows, people walking around the items, looking at them thoughtfully, studying them, discussing their worth. Behind the farm equipment were rolling hills, fields filled with cows that were also being bid on, and beyond those fields, other farms dotting the landscape, some of those farms on the verge of bankruptcy as well.
“That’s our life for the last 30 years,” Alice said in disbelief, looking out at the large crowd and the auctioneer setting up his booth. She gestured at the scene with one quick movement of her hand that she returned to the cross necklace, clutching it tightly. “There it all is – set up for strangers and neighbors to pick through and pick apart. It’s so surreal.”
Fresh tears spilled down Alice’s face and Molly felt the sting of tears in her own eyes.
“What will you and Jim do?”
Alice shook her head. “I don’t know for sure yet. I picked up a job at the bank and Jim has an interview at the meat packing plant next week. Isn’t that ironic? He couldn’t afford to produce milk and meat himself so now he’ll have to work packing some factory farm’s meat.”
The auctioneer started the bidding on the Stanton’s hay baler, rattling off its attributes and suggested prices in a quick paced tone, almost too fast for Molly to keep up with. The men standing in front of the auctioneer trailer were a mix of mostly men, some well-dressed while others had obviously driven straight from the barn to the auction.
The well-dressed were usually from the corporate farms, having driven two or more hours. Molly looked at them like vultures come to feed on dying carcasses of the small family farms. She knew she shouldn’t think that way. They had their place in the world too, but Molly agreed with her dad and other small farmers who worried about the loss of quality and safety in corporate farming. Then there was the questionable care of the animals and the reduced profits for small farming operations when the bigger farms moved in. Molly didn’t know how it all worked really, but small farms were all she’d ever known and she felt a fierce loyalty to them.
Molly knew from past auctions that many of the farmers from the family farms didn’t want to bid, not because they couldn’t use the equipment, but because they didn’t want to see their neighbors go out of business. And in some cases, the bidding farmers wondered if they might be next and if they should waste money on equipment they’d soon be selling themselves.
“This was a four-generation farm,” Alice said softly, watching the auctioneer. “Jim’s grandfather took it over from his father, who died very young from tuberculosis. This was all Jim ever wanted to do, from the time he learned to walk, pretty much. If this is this hard on me I can’t imagine how devastated he has to feel about all of this. He won’t even talk to me about it. He’s so matter-of-fact about the bills and how we are too far in debt.”
Alice found another tissue in her jeans pocket and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“I just wish he would talk to me about how he is feeling,” she said, blowing her nose. “I worry about what holding it all in is doing to his health.”
Molly’s chest constricted. She understood Alice’s worry for Jim. Molly had the same worries about her father who rarely spoke about how situations his family had faced or were facing him made him feel.
Alice lowered her voice and leaned closer to Molly. “Did you hear about Larry Jenson?”
Molly shook her head.
“He couldn’t take the pressure,” Alice whispered tearfully. “He felt like he’d let his family down when the farm failed last year. His wife found him two nights ago in the barn, a bottle of pills in his hand, an empty glass that smelled like whiskey next to his body. The coroner told his wife he’ll most likely rule it a suicide but he’s waiting for the toxicology report.”
Molly gasped. “Oh my gosh! His wife and family must be devastated.”
Alice nodded. “She is and I think that’s one thing I’m worried about with Jim. If he won’t talk to me about how all this making him feel, maybe he won’t talk to me if he’s thinking of . . .” Alice shook her head, closing her eyes briefly. “I can’t even bare to think about it.”
Molly laid a hand on her shoulder. “You won’t have to,” she said, hoping she was right. “Just keep an eye on Jim and be there for him. When he’s ready to talk he will. I’m sure he’s just keeping quiet now to make sure he can get what needs to be done done.”
Alice turned her head, wiping the tears from her face. “I’m going to go make sure they have enough hot dogs and snacks for the bidders. If I cry anymore my eyeballs will fall right out.”
Molly watched Alice walk back toward the barn and bit her lower lip, wondering when the day would come when her family auctioned their life away. She turned and watched her dad walking with other farmers, studying equipment, contemplating about quality and price. Jason and Alex stood at the back of the crowd talking to a small group of younger farmers and Molly recognized one of them as Jason’s former classmate Jeremy McCarty. The McCarty’s had been farming their land with a head of 250 dairy cows for three generations, but Jason had said the family was considering selling out and moving to Kansas within the year.
“This is a fine harvester,” the auctioneer said. “Three years old. Great paint job still. Well taken care of. Let’s start the bidding at nineteen. Nineteen thousand. Nineteencanigetnineteen? Nineteennineteennineteen – Nineteen in the back. Can I get twenty-twenty-twenty? Twentytwentytwenty – twenty-one. Twenty two thousand-twenty-twothoussandtwentythreecanigettwentythreeandtwentytwentytwenty -three! Twenty-three!”
The bidding went on like that for the rest of the afternoon while Molly served buyers hot dogs and soda and agreed with other farmers that the day was one of sadness; the end of an era. This was the first auction Molly had been to, but she knew there had been others in recent months and she knew there would be more. The faces of many of the farmers who walked by were etched in worry, eyelids drooping from late nights of crunching numbers.
“Sold off half the herd last month,” one farmer said to another, standing in the doorway of the barn where a makeshift concession stand had been set up. “If we can save some money this year, I’m hoping to bring some more cows back.”
“I saw the most recent reports from the dairy bureau,” the other farmer said. “The numbers don’t look encouraging.”
Both farmers shook their heads.
“This is all I’ve ever done,” the first farmer said. “It was all my dad and his dad ever did. I can’t imagine what I’ll do with myself if I have to finally pack it in.”
His friend laughed, clapped him on the back.
“How about finally retire and take Eloise on that cruise she’s always wanted?”
“I get sea sick, but even if I did go, what will I do with myself after we get back?”
The farmers stood, hands shoved in their overall pockets, silent for a few moments, and looked out over the field full of farm equipment, buyers and curious onlookers weaving around each other.
“Welp, best get back to the barn and milk what’s left of my cows.”
“Yep,” the other farmer nodded, still looking out at the auction. “Need to get back and make sure mine are all in the barn for the night.”
The two men parted ways, heads both down, deep in thought as Molly watched them. She sat on the stool behind the table and felt a strange heaviness in her chest. The idea that these men, so much like her father, could no longer live the lives they had hoped to broke her heart and made her world feel upside down.
She sat down on the stool behind the table, opened a bottle of water and watched the trucks pull in and out of the Stanton’s side yard where a makeshift parking lot had been set up.
She had been considering walking away from farming, seeing what the world was like beyond her parent’s corn fields, but at the same time she dreaded the possibility that in the near future she wouldn’t even have a choice if she wanted to be involved in farming or not.
“Whatchya thinking about?”
Molly startled at the sound of the voice to the right of her. She looked over to see Alex grinning, his black cowboy hat tipped low on his head, a black sleeveless shirt revealing his tanned muscular biceps. She wasn’t sure when he started wearing that hat, but every time she saw him in it, it flipped her stomach upside down.
Alex had come to their farm a city slicker, but he should have been born a country boy as fast as he had adapted to life on the farm.
She shrugged as an answer to his question, then thought for a moment about how to answer.
“Alice was just telling me about Larry Jenson, this local farmer . . .”
Alex cracked open a Pepsi and sat on a stool next to her.
“The one who offed himself? Yeah. Jason was telling me about that.”
Molly’s eyebrows darted up, and Alex knew he’d said something wrong.
“Offed himself? Really? That wasn’t very sensitive, Alex.”
“Oh. Sorry. I mean —”
Molly sighed. “It’s okay. You can’t help being insensitive. You’re a man.”
“Ouch.”
“Anyhow, it’s just — I mean, Mr. Jenson had to be really down to do that, you know? What if —”
“Molly, your dad would never do that, if that’s what you’re thinking, and neither would Walt. You know that.”
“I don’t know. Do I? If things got bad enough and —”
Alex shook his head. “Not going to happen. No more thinking that way, okay? Your family has a good thing going. They’ve got the farm store, the rain has finally let up, there should be a good crop this year. Everything is going to be okay.”
He looked over at her, reached out and laid his hand against her shoulder. “No more worrying, okay?”
His hand on her skin flustered her for a moment, but she managed to nod as she looked at him.
“Okay. I’ll try.”
She pulled her eyes from his, her heart pounding.
She watched the farmers walking by the open barn door, cars pulling in and out of the field that was serving as a makeshift parking lot.
Alex watched too.
After a few moments of silence, he looked at her again.
“So, if you’re done worrying, I’m heading back to see how much equipment your dad is going to make me haul out of here when he’s done bidding.”
Alex’s grin as he stood to leave not only lifted her heavy mood, it made her feel almost giddy. She leaned forward on the stool, propped her elbow on the table, her chin on her hand and welcomed the distraction of watching him walk away. Now one wore a pair of jeans as well as Alex Stone.
Alex tried to push Molly’s worries from his mind as he walked toward Robert and Jason. He whole heartedly believed that Robert Tanner would never leave his family, in any way, no matter how tough it got, at least not on purpose. Still, Molly’s concerns were contagious.
He had been noticing how tired Robert had been looking lately, but he wasn’t about to mention it to Molly or Jason. Alex had tried to step up more, offering to take on jobs Robert would normally do, hoping it would encourage Robert to slow down. Instead, Robert had replaced the jobs with different jobs, never slowing down, always on full-speed. Alex had acted confident with Molly, but inside he worried like she did that all the pressure of running a large farming business would finally break the man he’d come to think of as a father figure.
***
“So, when were you going to tell me about the financial trouble the business is in?”
Robert’s back was to his sister but he didn’t have to see her to know that Hannah was standing with her arms folded across her chest, her leg cocked to one side, and a tight scowl pursing her mouth into an angry frown. He inwardly groaned and titled his eyes toward the heavens, silently praying for an interruption.
He and Bert, her husband, had talked last night about telling her about the issue with the loan so he knew this moment was coming. Bert had even called an hour ago to warm him she was on the warpath. Bert had already had his hide chewed and it hadn’t been pretty. Robert knew he was next.
He had hoped she would find Walt first, but Walt told him last night he’d be an hour away today, picking up supplies for the farm store at a partner farm. Walt had a way of avoiding conflicts by making himself hard to find.
“Well?”
Robert cleared his throat before turning away from the tractor he’d been preparing to climb into. It was obvious it was time to face the music with yet another woman in his life.
He turned and saw his youngest sibling standing in the exact way and with the same expression he had pictured in his mind. “Good morning to you too, Hannah.”
“Robert, I can’t even believe that you and Walter and Bert kept this from me. I had every right to know what was going on. I’m a full partner in this business.”
She was doing that thing now where she pointed one finger down at the ground at the end of every sentence and emphasized every other word.
“Hannah, I know. It was wrong. I just – we just —”
“Didn’t want me to know because you thought you could fix it on your own? Because I’m a woman? What?” She placed both her hands on her hips, her nostrils flared.
“You know that’s not why.”
Hannah’s light brown hair, now streaked with blond highlights from exposure to the sun, was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and her brown eyes were flashing with fury.
Robert was a mild-mannered man who often spoke softly and was rarely angered. He remained calm when others weren’t and normally Hannah admired this quality but today she wanted to see some actual emotion from him, to see a response behind his normal calm, closed off demeanor.
“No, Hannah, that wasn’t it at all.”
“You need to be honest with me this time, Robert. Don’t keep hiding things from me.”
With a heavy sigh Robert sat on a square bale of hay near the barn door and leaned forward slightly, arms propped on his knees. “Walt and I wanted to protect you because of how hard Dad’s death was on you. We planned to pay things off at the end of this summer with the corn harvest, but as you know, that’s not going as planned. We were going to talk to you once we had the money to take care of the shortfall. Until then we tried to shield you so you wouldn’t have to face anymore stress. You’ve been the main one caring for Mom, we saw how hard you tried to act like Dad’s death didn’t affect you, but Hannah . . .”
He looked at up at her from where he was sitting, saw her mouth was still pressed into a thin line. “Walt and I know it almost destroyed you. We didn’t want that to happen again. We didn’t want to see you hurt and worried again. We thought we could handle it. We were wrong. I’m sorry.”
Hannah’s shoulders had already started to relax as she listened to her brother and her face was less pinched than before. She sat next to him on the hay bale, not sure whether to yell or cry. The emotions she had been shoving inside for the last year chose for her.
Robert reached over and squeezed her hand as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Hannah.”
She nodded and accepted the wadded up handkerchief he handed her, blowing her nose into it and wiping her eyes.
“I know you didn’t mean to keep me out of the loop. It’s just — I always feel like I’m the last to know everything. I was the last to know that Daddy was sick. No one wanted to tell me when the doctors said his heart was in worse shape than they thought. And now here we are, possibly losing our livelihood and I’m in the dark again.”
Robert shook his head. “We’re not going to lose the business, Hannah. It’s going to be fine. Walt and I,” he took her hand again. “and you, will go over tomorrow and talk to Bill and we will work out a plan, like we should have in the beginning.”
Hannah nodded, sniffing and blowing her nose again. “Okay.”
She looked at her brother, tears glistening in her eyes. Seeing her in such a tender moment, so vulnerable and emotional, was unnerving to Robert. Hannah was always the strong one, the determined one, the one who seemed to have it all together, even though she was the baby of the family. Even at their dad’s funeral she’d been composed, strong, and had only cried once, briefly, in front of everyone else.
He knew from what Bert had told him, though, that the tears had flowed, hard and fast at home, locked in her room at night or in the bathroom when she thought no one could hear her or see her. Robert didn’t know why his sister had always fought so hard to hide her emotions but he was glad to see a part of that wall breaking down now, even if it did make him uncomfortable.
“We need to talk about Mom,” she said finally, after a few more moments of tears and blowing her nose.
“She’s still pretty down, isn’t she?”
Hannah nodded. “I’m worried about her, Robert. She has little interest in anything anymore. I can’t get her to go to church. She complains all the time.”
Robert knew all of this already. He’d listened to his mom complain about a variety of people and situations in recent months. He’d also listened to her refusals to attend church with him and Annie, instead saying she didn’t feel well and would rather read her Bible at home.
“I’m not ready to lose Mom too.” Hannah choked out the words. “But I think she’s just given up since Daddy died.”
Robert slid his arm around Hannah’s shoulders and pulled her gently against him. “I’ll go talk to her. All we can do right now is love her through this.”
Hannah nodded against his shoulder and blew her nose again.
She looked at the soggy handkerchief crumpled in her hand. “Is the handkerchief you always have shoved in your pocket and blow your nose on all day?”
Robert sighed. “Yes. It is, but I haven’t used it yet today.”
Hannah wiped her eyes with the corner of the handkerchief. “Oh. Thank God. Men are so gross.”
This is an excerpt from my Novella Fully Alive, currently in progress. I have not edited or rewritten the fiction posted here yet and do so before I publish it later on Kindle, so there are bound to be typos, plo. To read the other parts of Fully Alive, click HERE.
Josefa woke with a start, cold sweat beading across her forehead. She tried to remember where she was, the only sound her rapid, pulsating heartbeat . She looked around and slowly her room began to take shape in the moonlight. She’d had the nightmare again. The one she’d had night after night. The nightmare of that day in Jerusalem, when her family had been there for Passover.
The day Yeshua died.
The day five years ago when Yeshua had been murdered on Golgotha.
She remembered it like it had been yesterday.
Voices full of rage echoed within the city walls.
“Crucify him!”
Her father had trembled next to her with shock, anger, confusion. He pulled and her younger brother close. “Keep walking. Don’t stop.”
Her mother followed, tears streaking her face, sobs shaking her body.
“Father, why would they do this?” Tears soaked Josefa’s face as the crowd enveloped her, jostled her into other people.
She didn’t understand. Why were the priests of this city demanding the death of the man who had brought her back from the dead? What had he done that deserved death?
She screamed in protest, but no one could hear her and if they could, they weren’t listening.
“It’s not true! He saved me! He brought me back from the dead!” She tried again, her throat raw, her voice hoarse. “He gave me back my life!”
A man shoved her hard to the ground.
“Shut your mouth, you blaspheming liar!”
Saliva dripped down his chin as he screamed. A tremor of fear rushed through Josefa and she looked away quickly. It was as if he was possessed. Maybe he was.
Jairus stooped to protect her and swung around toward the man, anger clouding his vision. “Never touch my daughter!”
The man was screaming again, standing over her and her father. “You are nothing, Jew!”
“I am a leader in the synagogue, I am a holy —”
More people were shouting at Jairus and Josefa now, shouting at anyone they felt were followers of Yeshua.
“You are nothing!”
“Blaspheming scum, go back to whatever city you came from.”
“Do you follow this man? Then you should be put to death with him.”
Jairus jerked his head toward an open area near the city wall.
“Myriam, Ephra, Josefa, come. We must leave.”
Josefa turned to follow her family but paused, looking over her shoulder at the yelling crowd, at the sudden appearance of Yeshua through the crowd, struggling to walk under the weight of what looked like a large piece of wood. She watched in horror as he fell onto the stones, the wood on top of him. Blood dropped onto the dirt from his face, his hands, everywhere. Josefa couldn’t see any of Yeshua’ skin that wasn’t bleeding.
She broke from her father’s arms and stood along the edge of the crowd as Yeshua walked by, reaching out, her fingertips touching Yeshua’ bloody garment, hanging in rags off his shoulder. She jerked her hand away and held it to her mouth as she began to sob.
“Yeshua. Yeshua,” Josefa choked out. “I believe in you, Yeshua.”
Yeshua looked at the ground as he fell again, and she wondered if he even knew she was there. A Roman soldier dragged a man from the crowd and tossed him to the ground in front of Yeshua.
“Help him! Pick up the cross!” the soldier demanded.
As the man helped lift what the soldier had called a cross, another soldier lifted Yeshua to his feet. They watched the scene together and Josefa’s heart raced as Yeshua stood slowly, raised his eyes toward the crowd and found her gaze.
His eyelids were swollen, blood running in rivulets from what appeared to be thorns bent into the shape of a crown on his head. He looked at her with an unfocused gaze as he hooked one arm around the man and the other around the wood. Hot tears stung Josefa’s eyes, rushed down her cheeks as Yeshua moved his gaze from her and looked back to the ground, shuffling his feet forward in step with the other man.
A strong hand gripped her wrist and pulled her backward, through the crowd. She looked up into deep blue eyes, a smooth face stained with dirt under a Roman helmet. The soldier’s face was young, but his eyes were old. She expected a rebuke but instead his voice was gentle, filled with compassion.
“You must leave this area. It’s not safe for young girls like you.”
She could hear her father calling for her, but Josefa couldn’t seem to pull her eyes from the soldier’s.
“Come, Josefa!” Jairus said sharply, prying the soldier’s fingers from his daughter’s wrist. “Let’s get away from here.”
Her father’s voice was breaking with emotion and when she looked up at him, he was rubbing the back of his hand across his face.
“I can take no more,” he whispered hoarsely.
She looked up and the soldier had turned and was following the crowd, to where she didn’t know.
She followed her father and they found the rest of their family waiting for them by the city gates.
“We must leave, Jairus. It’s no longer safe,” Myriam whispered, trembling.
Jairus pulled her close and nodded. “We will go and collect our things from Lieber’s and begin our journey this evening. I will see if I can convince him and his family to come with us. The Romans are thirsty for blood this day.”
“What are they going to do to Yeshua, father?” Josefa asked, fear shivering through her.
Jairus shook his head. “I don’t know, Josefa. Keep walking.”
Jairus’ brother declined traveling away from Jerusalem, begging Jairus to remain for Passover.
“Traveling on Passover is forbidden. We will be safe here on this side of the city. The Romans are only taking care of a troublemaker, a man who called himself the Son of God.”
“But Uncle Leiber —”
Jairus scowled at his daughter. “Josefa. Be silent. Go prepare the afternoon meal with the women.”
All these years later, Josefa still remembered how darkness fell later that day, how the ground shook and she fell to the dirt courtyard outside her aunt and uncle’s home in fear.
She screamed, reaching out for something to hold onto but finding nothing. As the ground rose up beneath her, the sun darkened and she couldn’t see her parents or anyone else.
“Yeshua! Yeshua! Help me!”
Bricks fell from stone structures around her, striking her and then blackness settled over her and all was still.
“Josefa!” She woke to her mother’s voice that day and again, five years later, she heard her mother call to her. And again her mother took her in arms and again she told her everything would be okay and prayed over her, asking for Adonai’s protection
I shared the first part of this chapter yesterday. You can find the rest of the chapters HERE.
And, guys (ladies mostly), let me tell you something! I just noticed on Amazon that I got my first negative review on my first book! It’s like a right of passage. I have a feeling I’ll get more because, well, I’m not the best writer ever, but I don’t even care. I know, you’re thinking: “What is wrong with this woman? She’s happy she got a negative review???”
Well, not necessarily, no, but I’m happy that it doesn’t bother me like it used to. In the last few years (especially since I lost my aunt in 2017) I have realized what is most important in life and what others think of me isn’t one of those things. I see the fact I’m not too worried about it and laughed while reading it as progress in my life.
As I read his words out loud to my son I just kept laughing: “It was free and it still cost too much.” I should be crushed, but everyone has different tastes and I’m just learning about all this writing stuff so I’m good with it. So thanks, Anthony, I needed that and the rest of your review (which went on a bit too long, if you ask me.) The fact I drove someone to sit and write a review, even a negative one, makes me smile. I do wish he’d given me a little more constructive criticism than it wasn’t worth his time, but, oh well, I’ll hope for a more passionate negative review in the future.
Alex breathed in deep the smell of hay and the musty smell of female cow as he leaned his head against the cow’s side while he hooked up the milking machine the morning after the rummage sale. Growing up in an urban area outside of Baltimore, he never thought he’d enjoy the comfort of a cow, the warmth of a barn on a crisp spring morning.
He didn’t have to look up to know Molly had walked in behind him. He clearly recognized her footsteps, something he had memorized, much like the way her nose crinkled slightly when she laughed and the way she blew her bangs out of her face when they fell across her forehead while she was working in the barn.
Her footsteps stopped behind him.
“So,” she said and he heard a tinge of aggression in just that one word. “What was that with Ben yesterday?”
Alex shrugged, keeping his eyes on his work.
“I was just harassing him.”
He stood, rubbed some dust off Daisy’s side, his back still to Molly.
“He seemed like a real jerk so I wanted to mess with him.”
Molly cleared her throat. “Well, yes, he is a little jerky – sometimes. I guess.”
She stopped short of asking him why he had acted as if they were dating. She felt the conversation they were having was awkward enough.
“Okay,” she said. “I need to start the milking on the other side, so . . .okay. And thanks for fixing the truck and driving it back to the house.”
Alex reached for the udder cream, not looking at her as he treated Daisy. “Yup. No problem.”
Molly turned away from him and rolled her eyes to the ceiling, silently mocking her anti-climatic exchange with Alex. She had intended to find out not only what the deal with Ben had been but what the recent change in his behavior toward her was about, especially since Liz had been pestering her with questions about it since yesterday during the rummage sale.
“Was he trying to act like you two were dating?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you two dating?”
“No!”
“You would tell me if you were dating right?”
“Liz . . .”
“Well, would you?”
“Yes, Liz, but we’re not dating.”
“So, what was —”
“I have no idea, Liz.”
“You’re going to ask him, right?”
Molly had slapped her forehead against her hand while Liz watched her with wide eyes. “Yes. I will.”
And she had asked him.
He’d given her his answer and now she was going back to work in the barn. She was letting it go. She wasn’t going to push the issue.
Pausing at the bottom of the hayloft she leaned back against the ladder and let out a long breath.
She knew no matter how hard she tried she wasn’t going to be able to let it go, at least in her mind. She knew she’d keep wondering what was changing between her and Alex and if he noticed it too.
Yes, Chapter 11 is broke up into two parts for the blog this week because, to me, this chapter is too long for a blog, but not too long for a book. No idea what I’m talking about? Me either, but I rambled about chapter size last week on the blog and still couldn’t decide how I feel about long chapters.
I will be sharing part two tomorrow because, quite frankly, some of my readers need a good, light distraction right now (and luckily my fiction isn’t too hard hitting.)
Alex woke from a sound sleep to someone pounding on the front door. It was his morning off from the barn. The morning Taylor Bundle came to help out and Alex got to sleep in but missed out on joking with Molly.
“Jason! Are you in there!? If you’re sleeping in, well, get up!”
Alex rubbed his eyes, listening to Molly yelling from the front porch. He threw the covers aside, hoping something hadn’t happened at the farm.
He staggered down the stairs in a pair of old sweatpants and it wasn’t until he had unlocked the door and swung it open that he remembered he’d forgotten to grab a shirt.
A strange rush of energy pulsated through the center of Molly’s chest at the sight of a bare-chested Alex standing groggily in the doorway.
“Hey,” he said, mid-yawn. “What are you doing here?”
“Um. Oh. Hey.”
Molly’s mouth was suddenly dry, and she felt a rush of warmth in her cheeks as she struggled to remember why she was standing on Jason and Alex’s front porch at this time of the morning. She seemed to have forgotten who she even was for a moment.
Good grief. Alex even looked good yawning. Her eyes fell on a small tattoo on the skin just below his tanned collarbone. An eagle sitting on a globe. All these years working with him and she’d never noticed he had a tattoo. She’d seen him with his shirt off before, but she’d never let her eyes linger. Why had she never let her eyes linger? She might have enjoyed the hard work in the barn more if she had.
She noticed he was looking at her, his hair ruffled, one eyebrow cocked, waiting for her to answer his question. He’d asked her a question. What was it again?
“Oh. Yes. I was — I mean, I’m on my way, or I was on my way to the rummage sale but the truck broke down down the road and I didn’t want to, — well, Jason was closer than going back to get Dad so I was hoping I could talk to Jason.”
Alex yawned again and leaned against the door frame.
“He took Ellie out antiquing or something. I don’t remember what he said, exactly. I was sleeping. Or trying to. You want me to look at it?”
“No. Well, yes, but actually I need a ride to the rummage sale first. Mavis has me on the baked goods tables this morning and I don’t want to listen to her scold me about being late if I don’t show up on time. Any way you could drive me to town?”
Alex rubbed his fingers across his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to wake up more. Alone in the truck with Molly. While groggy.
This might be fun.
“Uh . . . yeah . . . just let me throw on a shirt and I’ll be right out.”
No need to throw on a shirt, Molly thought.
“Yeah, sure,” she said out loud. “No problem. Take your time. I’ve still got a bit before I’ve got to be there.”
Molly turned back toward the road as Alex shut the door and let out a long breath.
Take your time. Getting a shirt on. Covering up all that beauty.
What a way to start a day. First, a broke down truck, which was a bad start, but then seeing Alex shirtless, a definite improvement.
“Why would a woman from church scold you for your truck breaking down?” Alex asked when he climbed into his truck next to her ten minutes later.
He pushed his hand through his hair and, unfortunately, had pulled a t-shirt on. He was eating a piece of toast as he shifted the truck into drive and pulled onto the dirt road.
“What do you mean?”
Alex shrugged. “I mean, she’s a Christian. Shouldn’t she be all nice and stuff? And forgiving?”
Molly looked out the window and leaned against her hand. “Well, yeah, she should but . . . well, sometimes human nature gets in the way I guess.”
Alex shoved the last piece of toast in his mouth, talking with his mouth full. “She sounds like she should read her Bible more.”
Molly laughed. “A lot of us should read our Bible more, but yeah, she should.”
Fencing and cow pastures rushed by and Molly thought about how even she should be reading her Bible more.
“You should get rid of that truck, you know.”
Alex shifted topics of conversation as quickly as he did gears, and it made Molly smile as she looked at him.
“Why?”
“It’s a piece of junk.”
“I like my piece of junk.”
“You could get a nice sedan or something.”
“Out here? And why? Because I’m a girl? So, you think girls shouldn’t drive trucks. Is that it?”
She smirked at Alex, waiting for his response. He looked out through the windshield, his arm hanging lazily over the steering wheel, grinning. She recognized that look well; a look that said he was about to roast her like he often did in the barn.
“You know it’s not because you’re a girl,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road. “You’re one of the manliest girls I’ve ever met.”
Molly didn’t even hesitate to ball her hand into a fist and smashing it straight into his upper bicep, her eyes narrowed and her jaw tight, but a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
He laughed loudly. “What? You are! You burp louder than most guys I know, and I know women say they don’t fart but that time you blamed it on the cow? Yeah, I didn’t buy that for a second.”
“I didn’t fart!” Molly cried through the laughter. “It was Betsy!” Alex was laughing harder now.
“That poor cow,” he said. “She gets blamed for so much of your gross behavior.”
“My gross behavior? You spit loogies on the ground all the time.”
“It’s not my fault I have an abundance of phlegm.”
She laughed and pushed at him gently with her hand.
“I didn’t need to know that, Alex Stone.”
Alex smiled, glancing at her, enjoying the sound of his name when she said it. They laughed for the rest of the drive, harassing each other about various sounds they’d made while working in the barn, or jokes they’d passed back and forth that probably shouldn’t have been said at all.
Molly wiped tears of laughter from her eyes as Alex pulled into the parking lot. She opened the truck door as he parked it in front of the basement door.
“Thanks for the lift,” she said climbing out. “I can get a ride home after I’m done.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I should come in and see if they’d have anything I’d want.”
Molly shut the truck door and leaned on it to talk through the window. “I doubt it, unless you need a new purse or some heels”
Alex shrugged. “I don’t need those, no, but Jason said they have some electronics this year. Maybe I’ll come check it out.”
“Okay,” Molly said, turning toward the church basement door. “I’m heading in. I’ll see you there.”
Alex leaned his head against his hand, smiling, watching her walk away for a few moments before pulling his truck into a parking space.
Inside, the baked goods table was already half-filled and the rest of the tables were set up and ready for customers.
“There you are!” Maddie whispered loudly when Molly approached the table. “I was afraid you weren’t coming and then I’d be stuck listening to Mavis complain all morning about your failure to keep commitments.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “She’d already started that speech, huh?”
Maddie nodded. “Of course. I’m heading back to the children’s section. Pray for me.”
“I definitely will.”
Molly straightened the cakes and cookies, displaying them along the table, separating each kind of cookie and each style of cake and then propping up the pies so people could see them better. She waited for the first customers of the day and watched Alex walk through the electronics aisle, looking over old computers and stereos.
On the tables spread across the basement, various items sat on tables for sale; old televisions, lamps, pots and pans, dishes, books, sunglasses, toys, video games, and even a motorcycle helmet. A few early birds were already perusing the merchandise that, if sold, would help the church with various projects throughout the year, including putting a new roof on the church.
Molly had attended the Spencer Valley United Methodist Church since she was a child up until a year ago. Her parents and grandparents had always attended the church. Molly, however, had fallen in love with a church across town that featured more upbeat music and a younger congregation over all. Even though she no longer attended the church she continued to help with fundraisers and other events, which was why she couldn’t avoid Mavis’ overly critical eye.
She liked the church and the other people who attended, though, including Maddie and the new pastor and his wife. Joe and Emily. They had arrived at the church a little less than a year ago, shortly after her grandfather passed away and about the same time her grandmother had stopped attending church.
Molly liked Pastor Joe’s easy going demeanor and outgoing personality and Emily’s sweet nature. Molly couldn’t pinpoint why but she felt a sadness in Emily when she talked to her and she wondered it was because Emily still felt out of place in her fairly new surroundings.
“Well, hey, I didn’t expect to see you here today.”
The familiarity of the voice made Molly turn her head to see if it could really be him. It could be and it was. Ben Oliver was standing in front of her with a broad smile, looking surprisingly even more handsome than the last time she had seen him five years ago at his grandmother’s funeral.
His hair was cut high and tight, his dark brown eyes sparkled, and a small dimple pricked the skin next to his mouth when he smiled.
She now wished she hadn’t rushed out of the house so quickly, throwing on a Confederate Railroad t-shirt and a pair of jeans and pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail on top of her head.
She tried to act non-plussed by his presence. “Ben, hey. What a surprise. Jason said you were in town.”
“Yeah, just came back a couple weeks ago.”
Molly decided to look busy. She straightened the cookies and stacked a couple of the pies. “Staying long?”
Ben nodded, watching her work. “For good actually. I’m opening a law office in Waverly.”
Waverly was a half an hour from Spencer Valley. And half an hour away from Molly, which she was fine with.
“Oh. So, you’ll be living there then?”
“I’m not sure yet. For now I’m living with my parents while I look for a place, either here or there. Actually, I’m here today with my mom.” He laughed. “She’s looking for a new purse.”
He smiled and picked up a bag of cookies. “Hey. You always made amazing cookies. Chocolate chip if I remember right.”
Yes, Ben, I did make cookies. For you. Like it mattered.
“Yep. I used to. I don’t really make cookies anymore.”
A woman with dark brown hair hanging down her back and a strained expression on her face approached the table. Two young children hopped up and down beside her while she held their hands tightly.
“I want the chocolate ones!” A little girl with blond curls cried.
“I want peanut butter!” Her brother said loudly as he hopped in place.
Molly guessed their ages to be about four and them to be twins. Their mother looked exhausted as she let go of their hands and struggled to open her change purse. “I’ll take one of each.”
Molly slid them across the table and accepted her money, watching them shove cookies into their mouth as they darted toward the toy section.
“Wow,” Ben said watching the children leave. “That was – well, a lot of energy.” He smiled at her and she felt the old familiar rush of warmth travel from her stomach to the top of her head.
“Did you make anything on this table?” he asked.
“Just some cakes with my mom. They’re the ones over there.”
“Oh man. Those are your mom’s cakes? I’m definitely getting one of those. Her cakes are one of the highlights of my youth.” He walked to the other side of the table and began to look through the cakes. Over his shoulder Molly saw Alex studying a laptop, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
This is insanely awkward, Molly thought to herself, unable to shake the memory of Ben’s comments about her the day in the convenience store. Stop pretending to be nice, Ben.
She was grateful to see Liz walking toward her a few moments later, a broad smile on her face, an attractive pink bag hanging over her shoulder.
“I told you I wouldn’t leave you to deal with Old Battleax on your own.”
Molly tilted her head toward Ben, her eyes wide.
Liz looked at Ben, back to her and then mouthed. “No way. Ben? What is he doing here?”
Molly shrugged and rolled her eyes. Liz flung her purse on the chair next to Molly and placed a hand on each hip. “Well, well, well,” she said loudly. “Benjamin Oliver. Surprised to see you show your face here in Spencer Valley again.”
Ben smiled broadly as he looked at Liz, the container carrying one of Annie’s chocolate cakes in his hand. “Liz! Hey! You look great!”
“Ben, hey. You still look like a jerk.”
“Liz!” Molly hissed.
Ben laughed softly and shook his head. “It’s okay, Molly. Liz has never liked me, if you remember.”
“Liz has never trusted you,” Liz shot back with a scowl. “And rightly so, I’d say.”
Ben slid the cake across the table toward Molly. “People can change, Liz. Learn from their mistakes.” He smiled tightly. “Don’t you think? Hey, how’s Gabe doing?”
Molly winced internally. This was getting messy.
“I left him,” Liz said coldly.
“Oh, well, see we do learn from our mistakes, I guess.” Ben smirked and Molly shook her head because it was apparent he still had his quick tongue.
Molly placed the cake in a bag, watching Liz and Ben watch each other, feeling the tension in the air.
“That’s $4.50,” she said quickly to interrupt the stand-off.
Ben’s charming smile had returned as he turned toward Molly, handing her a $5 bill. “Keep the change,” he told her. “It’s for a good cause. And listen, Molly, I’d really like to talk to you sometime. If you have time? I didn’t expect to see you here today, but I had planned to track you down at some point.”
Molly nodded outwardly but shook her head inwardly. “Yeah, sure, that would be fine. I’ll be around.”
Out of the corner of her eye she watched Alex sauntering toward the table, a used laptop under one arm and a cowboy hat propped on top of his own. As if the awkward moment couldn’t get even more awkward.
“Well, you were wrong,” he said to her cheerfully. “It turns out they did have a couple things I wanted.”
His gaze traveled from Molly to Liz’s tense expression and then to Ben standing awkwardly with a bag of cake in one hand and his wallet in the other.
“Oh, hey, did I interrupt something?” Alex asked.
“No, not at all,” Liz said. She tipped her head at Ben. “Ben here was just leaving.”
Ben? Alex looked Molly’s ex-boyfriend up and down, taking in his light blue polo shirt, tan khakis, brown leather belt and dark brown loafers. He wanted to laugh out loud. This was the great Ben Oliver? He definitely looked like a lawyer – overdressed, sneaky, and weak.
“Ben,” he said with a forced welcoming smile. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Ben looked surprised. “Oh? You have? I’m sorry. You are . . .”
“This is Jason’s friend Alex,” Molly said quickly. “He works for Dad.”
She cleared her throat and focused on some crumbs on the table, brushing them away.
“Ah, a farm boy, eh?” Ben grinned and looked from Alex to Molly. He winked. “Does he say ‘As you wish?’ to you?”
Molly’s face grew warm. She knew what Ben was referring to, especially because The Princess Bride had been her favorite movie to watch with him when they had been dating. Wesley, the farm boy, would always say “as you wish” to Buttercup, the farmer girl, when she’d ask him to fetch something for her, and in the book the author wrote that “as you wish” was code for “I love you.”
Ben had never said “as you wish” to her.
Molly started to speak, but didn’t even know how to respond. Was Ben mocking her? Was he mocking Alex? She wasn’t even sure at this point.
Alex laughed and slapped Ben on the back with one solid movement of his hand. “Oh, Ben. You’re just as witty as Jason and Molly described you. Of course, that’s what I say to Molly. I mean, who wouldn’t be honored to travel through the Fire Swamp with someone like Molly? Right?”
He smiled at Ben a little longer than Molly felt he needed to. She caught Liz smirking on the other side of Ben.
Ben laughed a laugh that sounded slightly nervous. “Right. Of course. Very funny.”
“Well,” Alex said with an exaggerated sigh. “I would love to stay here and talk more but I’ve got manure to shovel, cows to milk, hay to fork into the stables. You know, all those ‘farm boy’ things we ‘farm boys’ do.”
He turned quickly toward Molly and slid his hand under her elbow, leaning close to her. “I had fun this morning. See you later okay?”
He winked, brushed his mouth against her cheek, and walked through the door, leaving her and Liz staring at him in bewildered surprise.
“Oh,” Ben said after a few moments. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you two were …”
“He’s just a co-worker,” Molly blurted.
Liz smothered a snicker behind her hand and sat in the chair behind the table.
Ben nodded and shrugged. “Oh, okay, well —”
“Molly, there are more cakes in the kitchen that need to be brought out.”
Mavis’ spoke over Ben and Molly was grateful for the interruption.
“No problem, Mavis. I’ll be right there.” She turned to face Ben. “I’m so sorry. Duty calls. Catch up later?”
Ben nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. Sure. No problem.”
Molly walked quickly back toward the kitchen, her face ablaze with shock, embarrassment, and confusion. First, seeing Ben out of the blue and then Alex acting weird.
What in the world was Alex even doing? Was he trying to make it look like they were dating? For what purpose? For whose benefit? For hers? For Bens? . . . for his? She didn’t know what he was doing but she knew she was going to have to talk to him about it later at the barn. And Molly knew Liz was going to want to talk about it as soon as she arrived back at the table with the extra cakes
