Chapter 6
Chapter Six
JD
I grunt with the impact when she throws herself at me.
“Hey, you,” my sister says, beaming as she leans back in my arms.
“Hey.”
I pull her closer for another hug.
She looks good. Strong and healthy, although I miss her long shiny hair. She’s cut it short, wearing it in a messy pixie. It suits her, but I still miss the long braids she used to wear. I guess it’s easier in her line of work. I remember when we were still living at home, it would take forever for her hair to dry after a shower.
When I let go of her, her eyes narrow on me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I brush her off.
“I can see something is,” she insists.
Despite sharing a meal and a kiss that lingered until I hit my bed last night, the dream I woke up from, in the early morning hours, was far from pleasant. In fact, it was pretty gruesome, every detail still etched in my mind.
“Leave him alone, Una,” my father mumbles from his chair.
I’d hoped to delay showing up at my parents’ house as much as I could, but Una was blowing up my phone from the moment she arrived.
“Am I not allowed to ask what’s wrong with my brother?” Una immediately reacts to our father’s words.
Pa was there yesterday; he saw what I saw. Hell, we had to stand guard over that poor woman’s body for hours—making sure no wildlife could get at her—before law enforcement could get their crime team in. I’m sure her image has been swirling around his head as well.
So, I know why he made that comment, but my sister doesn’t, so all she hears is criticism and rejection. I understand both, stuck in the middle again, so no matter what I say or how I react, it’s gonna piss someone off.
I can see the shutters come down around Pa at my sister’s reaction.
Fucking eggshells.
“We were out on a search yesterday that didn’t end well,” I explain in an attempt to mitigate the damage. “Had to call in law enforcement. Was an ugly scene.”
A flash of regret skirts over Una’s face before she stubbornly sets her jaw.
“Then why not just tell me that? You don’t have to shield me, I’m a firefighter, I see my share of bad stuff.”
“Jesus, Una. Maybe because I don’t wanna be reminded of the images already seared into my memory. It has zero to do with you.”
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose against the headache already forming.
“Una, did you get your brother something to drink?” Ma asks, walking up from the basement with a couple of jars she went to grab from the cold cellar.
I’m glad she wasn’t privy to our little exchange, or she’d have a thing or two to say about that.
“I didn’t want anything, Ma,” I quickly answer her, trying to avert another possible confrontation.
I can see from the look on my sister’s face, her bristles are up at Ma’s question, which clearly rubbed her the wrong way.
“Nonsense.” My mother—the bulldozer—casually waves me off. “Grab your brother a beer, Una,” she insists, setting her jars on the counter.
Instead of objecting—which I know will get Ma going—I shoot my sister a silent plea not to engage. With a low growl, she spins on her heel and darts out to the beer fridge on the covered porch in the back. She returns a moment later with three beers, dropping one beside Pa, handing one to me, and tossing back half of the third one herself.
Ma shoots her a sharp look before turning and fixing her eyes on me. “You sit down at that table and keep me company. You can tell me what’s going on with you and Doc Richards.”
I can hear Pa’s groan, and Una looks at me with a little too much interest.
I swear sometimes living in a small town sucks. Or maybe it was those tough cowboys back at the ranch yapping, they’re nothing but giant gossips.
“Christ, Ma…” I mumble.
“Doc Richards? Who is that?” Una pipes up, taking a seat at the table across from me.
“You wouldn’t know, since we hardly see you here,” Ma snaps, getting a dig in as she transfers the contents of the jars to bowls. “But Doc Richards took over for Doc Evans last year. From what I hear, your brother has taken a shine.”
Una’s eyes bulge out at me behind our mother’s back. “You’re getting it on with the vet?”
I open my mouth to respond, but Ma is faster.
“No need to be crude, Una,” she chastises her. “She’s a nice girl.”
“The vet is a woman?” my sister blurts out.
Mom swirls around, shock on her face. “Of course she’s a woman, what else would she be?”
The pointed look Una sends me speaks volumes, but I already recognized the thin ice we are on.
“Was just asking, Ma. I didn’t realize Doc Richards was a she .”
“I figured that’d be clear, given that she is seeing your brother.”
“Fucking hell,” Pa mutters from his chair.
My sentiments exactly.
I glance at the oven timer to see how much longer before the enchiladas are done, so I can dine and dash the hell out of here.
“In that case,” my sister drawls, the calculating gleam in her eyes not particularly reassuring. I discover how accurate an assessment that is, when she adds, “Why don’t you invite her for dinner tomorrow night? I’d love to meet her before I head back.”
From the wide smirk on her face, I can tell she is right pleased with herself. I can’t believe she is throwing me under the bus to get the focus off her and let her know with a dirty look. Not that she’s at all impressed.
“Great idea,” Ma predictably agrees. “Ask her. Or I can always call her myself.”
“Ama…” Pa warns from his seat. “You’re meddling.”
“I am not. Is it a crime to be happy at least one of my children is giving me hope, maybe one day, I’ll be blessed with grandbabies?”
I love my mother, but there are times I wish I lived at the other side of the fucking country. I can try and deny anything is going on, but that’s just going to make Ma more determined.
I catch a glance from Una.
“Please?” she mouths across the table.
I close my eyes and shake my head. I want to expose Janey to our dysfunctional family dynamic as much as I want a root canal, but I know it would, at least temporarily, divert attention from my sister.
“She’s probably busy,” I mention, in a last attempt to stop this runaway train.
Ma has a ready answer. “You won’t know ’til you ask.”
I hum in response and leave it at that.
After dinner, which was surprisingly uneventful as family meals go, I take my leave. Una walks me out to my truck.
“Are you going to invite her?”
I stop and turn to her. “I will, but with full disclosure.”
Una looks a bit alarmed. “What do you mean by that?”
“She’s a nice woman and I’m not going to pull her into a situation she is not prepared for. If she agrees, she’s gonna do it knowing what she’s in for.”
A brief struggle plays out on my sister’s face as she processes my intent to share her secret. Her expression settles on resolute.
“Fine. Tell her. It’s gonna be a matter of public record soon anyway.”
She abruptly turns back toward the house, leaving me to wonder what the hell that was all about.
Knowing my sister, probably nothing good.
Janey
Despite feeling flattered, my knee-jerk reaction was to say no.
The excuse of being too busy seems an easy out these days.
I mean, it’s true, I am busy, but it’s not an excuse to shut out the world and stop living your life. I could end up like my dad, a stroke at fifty-six, and everything he worked so hard for his entire life, gone. That was almost nine years ago. Dad is still around, but the farm is gone, sold to pay for the small bungalow my parents bought in Eureka, and to cover his medical bills.
My parents are well into their sixties, and their life now is not even close to what they’d envisioned and planned for their retirement.
I’m like Dad, a workaholic. Never leave for tomorrow what you can do today. It was a principle I was raised on as it pertained to chores and work ethic. I never realized until Dad had the stroke, it could translate just as easily to enjoying what you can today because tomorrow is not guaranteed.
It’s only one of the reasons why I ended up agreeing to have dinner tonight with JD and his family. Another reason, of course, was that turning down a dinner invite to the parents could be construed as disinterest, which is far from the truth. But after the background JD provided, and his transparency about the situation I was walking into, there was no way I could refuse.
Besides, I’ve met both his parents and like them. James comes across as stoic, but I’ve seen the wrinkles left by laughing plenty, and the small tugs at the corner of his mouth betraying a sense of humor. His son is obviously cut from the same cloth. I’ve encountered Ama mostly from a distance, except after that breech delivery when she fed me breakfast. As intimidating as she seemed at first, I could sense the big heart she tries to hide behind a stern exterior.
It doesn’t mean I don’t have butterflies dancing in my stomach as JD takes my hand and walks me from his truck to the front door of his parents’ place.
The gorgeous woman who opens the door is clearly his sister. They share the same dark eyes and generous mouth. She grins wide and pulls me into an unexpected embrace.
“I can’t tell you how excited I am to meet you,” she whispers next to my ear. “And I apologize in advance for the spectacle you’re about to witness.”
“Uh, nice to meet you too,” is all I can think of to say, a bit flummoxed by the odd apology.
“All right, Una,” JD rumbles. “Unhand her already.”
“Hello to you too, brother dear,” his sister returns as she releases me and focuses on JD, who shakes his head at her, wearing a barely-there smirk.
I’m led into the house, where we find James and Ama working side by side in the kitchen. James greets me with a simple, “Doc,” and a nod, but Ama goes right into hostess mode.
“JD, get our guest a drink, yeah? Beer, ice tea, lemonade, water?”
“I wouldn’t mind an ice tea, thank you. Can I do anything to help?” I add immediately.
“We’re almost done. Hope you don’t mind game meat; James made his venison poyha.”
I’m not sure what poyha is, but it looks like some kind of meatloaf James is cutting in thick slices. It is being served with some kind of succotash—a blend of pan-roasted corn, lima beans, squash, onion, and red peppers—dirty rice, and some kind of apple slaw.
“Sounds delicious,” I mumble, accepting the glass of tea JD hands me.
“I hear you’re working the rodeo?”
I turn to James. “Yes. Phil Jericho called and asked if I would. I’m not sure of the details but, apparently, Mackey Livestock is under some scrutiny, and rather than let them bring their own vet, Jericho thought it prudent to get an impartial vet instead.”
“Animal cruelty. Heard about that,” James comments. “And I’m pretty sure Jericho is more concerned with his reputation than he is with the welfare of the animals. Always covering his ass.”
“You don’t like him,” I conclude, taking a sip of my tea.
Ama snorts. “Understatement of the century. Their rivalry goes way back. Have you heard of Indian relay racing?” she asks me.
“Three-horse relay with one bareback rider? Yes, I’ve seen it. Quite impressive, and dangerous.”
“Yeah. James and Phil were daredevils back then. Always trying to beat each other, until one race—JD was a toddler—James got trampled and ended up with half a dozen broken bones. I told him if he ever got in the ring again, he’d seen the last of me. I’d walk and take our boy with me.”
“Only fucking way for that bastard to win that trophy from me,” her husband grumbles. “Steered his horse right at me. Once a cheat, always a cheat. Watch yourself around him.”
Apparently, the injury extended beyond the physical, and that part hasn’t quite healed. A man’s ego is a fragile thing. I curb the grin that wants to form.
“So noted.”
“Dinner,” Ama announces, passing out dishes of food to carry to the table.
I end up with the bowl of dirty rice and set it on one of the trivets on the dining table. Then I’m directed to take the seat next to JD, who is sitting across from his sister. It reminds me a lot of growing up at the farm, sitting down at the table for family dinners. Instead of passing around the bowls of food, the plates are sent around, and whoever is closest to a dish doles out a portion.
There’s a strange energy at the table, and I think it’s coming from Una. She hasn’t really said much since I walked in the door. When I catch her eye across the table, she shoots me a nervous little smile.
“Eat,” James orders, when everyone has their plate in front of them.
I immediately dig into the poyha, which I’m very curious about. It looks like meatloaf, but has some whole kernels of corn, and the moment I put that first bite in my mouth, I’m immediately in love with the savory flavor with a hint of slight tangy sweetness I can’t quite place.
“This is delicious,” I tell James. “It has an almost sweet aftertaste”
“Chopped cranberries,” he volunteers. “Pairs well with game.”
“It sure does.”
“It’s Una’s favorite,” Ama shares. “Her father made it in honor of her.”
My eyes dart to JD’s sister, who looks like she’s sitting on pins and needles.
“I have an announcement,” she suddenly blurts out.
In the dead silence that follows, I feel JD’s hand squeezing my knee under the table. I have a feeling whatever it was she apologized for at the door, we’re about to find out.
“Una…” JD says softly in a cautionary tone.
But she ignores him.
“I’m getting married.”
JD’s fingers dig into my knee and silverware clatters on a plate, as this news apparently comes as a surprise for the family. A good one, judging by the look on Ama’s face, who is clearly smiling behind the hands she presses to her mouth.
“I had no idea you were seeing someone,” Ama exclaims. “Who is he? Why didn’t you bring him to meet us?”
The long pregnant pause is filled with so much tension, I’m on the edge of my seat. Una darts an anxious glance at her brother and at me, then straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin, before focusing her attention on her mother.
“Her name is Rachel.”
From beside me I hear JD’s soft, “Fuck.”