7. Patrick
Iknew my mom could handle herself and keep Ariella safe since she grew up on this farm, as did I. When my father retired from the Navy Seals twenty years ago, he eventually joined us here and settled back in. During my childhood, his missions took him away for such long stretches of time that it made sense for us to stay in Montana while he was stationed in California.
It wasn’t just my parents’ relationship that was long distance for the last ten years of his career, but also the one between him and me. We didn’t have video conferencing with Skype or Facetime back then; phone calls, letters, and dial-up emails were the primary ways for us to stay connected. When he was stateside for long periods, we would go and stay with him in California. For his shorter stints, he would come here to see us. Since I was homeschooled until the sixth grade, it was easy for us to pick up and go. It wasn’t until my grandfather passed away, leaving the farm to my mom, that tough decisions had to be made. My father had to decide what was more important to him: his career or his family. The family won by a wide margin.
“Son, she’s in good hands with your mother. You don’t have to keep looking back every five seconds to see if she’s there,” my dad says, smiling.
It’s not that I think she’s in any real danger, but the glint in my mom’s eyes hinted that she was up to something. It’s that glint that has me more worried than anything else. “I’m not so sure about that, Pops. Did you see the look in Mom’s eye before she took Ariella out back?”
“I may be old, but I’m not blind. Of course, I did,” he says.
“First of all, you’re not old, Pops. You’re seasoned. And second, if you saw ‘the look,’ why aren’t you going to do anything about it?” I retort.
“And what, pray tell, do you expect me to do? She’s got a gun, and no one can stop your mother when she sets her mind to something.”
“Is Charlie going to hurt my mom?” Alex asks with a worried expression, not understanding that my Dad was kidding around.
“No, she’s not going to do anything to your mom. My Charlie is just having a woman-to-woman talk with…” he starts to say when he’s interrupted by the sound of gunfire.
Bang!
I drop the suitcase I’m carrying and immediately sprint in the direction I last saw Ariella and my mom go. “Watch after Alex!” I yell back at my dad. As soon as I round the corner of the house, I see Ariella lying on the ground, halfway buried in the snow. She has a hold of my mom’s gun, which my mother is carefully prying from her hand. Jessie, Jerry, and Savannah come running from the bunkhouse, their weapons still in their holsters and hidden underneath their jackets.
I turn in circles, looking around for any signs of danger, yet seeing none. I yell toward the team, “Did you guys see what happened?” They all nod, but I can tell that they are trying to hold back their laughter. I don’t see anything funny about the situation. When I notice Ariella’s body convulsing, I run over to her to give first aid.
“Honey, please tell me what’s wrong.” I didn’t mean for the name to slip from my lips, but I doubt she even registered what I said as she continues to shake uncontrollably. She grabs her stomach and rolls over to her side, and it’s then I realize she’s not convulsing. She’s laughing…hysterically.
Savannah walks over and looks down at Ariella. “Nice shot! I don’t think you got him, but he’s running scared now!” She holds out her hand to Ariella to help her up. Once Ariella has regained a modicum of control, she looks up at Savannah hesitantly but takes her hand and accepts the gesture of assistance.
“Thanks.” Dusting the snow from her bottom, it takes everything in me not to stare at the spot she just wiped clean.
Scared and fueled by adrenaline, I pull her to me and hug her tight, letting my fear release slowly. It’s not until Savannah clears her throat that Ariella pulls away and looks mildly embarrassed. I want to hold her forever if she’ll let me, but instead, she apologizes to Savannah as if she wronged her somehow.
“Will someone please tell me what happened?” I ask, my tone demanding.
“Calm down, Son. Everyone is just dandy. There was a coyote about 100 yards out, edging the tree line. He was skulking about, but he was easy to spot through the bare trees. My guess is he was planning on trying to raid the chicken coop. When Ariella told me that she had never shot a gun, I thought I would let her shoot mine for fun. She wasn’t expecting the recoil and fell backward. It was pretty funny to watch,” my mom explains.
“We didn’t mean to scare you, Pat. I just wanted to see what it would be like. I knew I wouldn’t hurt the coyote, but Charlie only wanted to scare him away. We didn’t see any harm with me shooting in such a wide-open space,” Ariella explains.
Savannah clears her throat. “It’s not a bad idea to get her some training on properly handling a gun in case she needs to use it. I can teach her the basics,” she suggests.
I shake my head. “If we do our jobs right, she should never need to use one.”
This time, it’s Jerry who steps forward. “I agree with you one hundred percent, Pat.”
“Thank…”
He puts a hand up to stop me. Apparently, he’s not done. “Like I was saying, I agree with you. She should never need to use it, especially if we do our jobs right. We’re good at what we do, but you and I both know that when someone is determined enough, they can still get past our defenses. Ariella should be prepared in case she has to use one. If she finds herself in a situation where using a gun is her only recourse, that is not the time for her to be figuring things out.”
He’s right, and I don’t like it. “Fine. Tomorrow, Savannah and Jerry can take you and Alex to the small range we have set up on the back of the property. Jessie and I will do perimeter sweeps and check for gaps in the surveillance.”
Ariella puts her hands on her hips. “I didn’t agree to letting my son learn how to shoot a gun. It’s far too dangerous for him.”
Charlie puts a hand on Ariella’s shoulder. “Patrick has been shooting with me since he was seven years old. I still have his .22 caliber rifle, which amounts to nothing more than a pea shooter. It’s as important for Alex to know basic gun safety and how to handle one out on a farm. He’ll be under constant supervision, and you’ll be with him every step of the way. We’ll stop if you get uncomfortable or he’s not listening to directions. But trust me, it’s a good skill for him to have up here in the wilderness with all the wild animals roaming around.”
“Great. So we don’t have to just worry about the bad guys. Now, we have to concern ourselves with lions, tigers, and bears. Oh my!” Ariella says with sarcasm.
“Well, in all fairness, it’s more like coyotes, mountain lions, and bears,” says Jessie with a head tilt and a smirk.
“Oh, thank you for clarifying. I feel so much better now. Whew!” Ariella says, wiping her brow mockingly.
“You should. Lions and tigers are far worse than coyotes and mountain lions. Okay. Coyotes are pretty aggressive, especially in the winter,” Jessie remarks.
I growl out, “You’re not helping, Jessie.”
She throws her hands up in a placating gesture, “Fine. Fine. I can tell when I’m not wanted. Charlie, can I go inside and help with dinner?”
With that, everyone turns to make their way inside the big house. My mom quickly puts everyone to work, assigning tasks like a drill sergeant. No one complains because they can smell their reward roasting in the oven.
I see my mom talking privately with my father in the other room while we set the table, make drinks, and place fresh-baked rolls in the basket. He bobs his head a few times, glancing at Ariella and Alex. I see a small smile form on his lips, and I know whatever scheme my mom has cooked up now involves my father. I try not to sigh. I’m well aware that my mom likes to play the matchmaker with all the lovely ladies in town. She could give Amelia, Ethan’s wife, a run for her money. That’s saying something because Amelia is a professional matchmaker and makes an exceptional living from it.
When she walks back into the kitchen, my dad in tow, I tell her in a low voice, “Whatever it is you’re thinking of doing, Mom, don’t.”
“What are you talking about, my dear boy? Do you honestly think I would meddle in your personal life?” she asks sweetly.
I know her well enough to answer, “Yes. Without hesitation.”
She puts a hand to her heart, “Well, that hurts.”
I put an arm around her shoulders and kiss her temple. “If it were anyone else, I would be upset by the intrusion. Yet, with you, I know it comes from a place of love. But, Mom, I need you to let Ariella and I work things out in our own time and in our own way.”
“I just want you to be happy,” she pretends to sniffle.
“I am happy. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”
She pats my cheek lightly. “Go wash up and take Alex with you. Dinner is almost ready.” I don’t make a fuss because my stomach roars with hunger at the mention of food. I call Alex over and tell him we need to wash our hands. He happily obliges, and soon, we’re ready to sit down at the dinner table.
“Can I sit next to you?” he asks as we approach the family dining room. The table can seat up to twenty, which came in handy when there used to be a lot of ranch hands.
“Sure. But I thought you would want to sit next to your mom.”
He lifts his tiny little shoulders and says, “She can manage without me for one meal. She’ll understand.” I try not to laugh, but a small chortle escapes me anyway. He gives me a toothy grin and then sits in the chair beside mine. Savannah sits on his other side while Ariella takes an open seat across from me.
“Shall we bless the food?” my dad asks. We all join hands and bow our heads as he begins to pray.
“Our Heavenly Father, we thank You for the many wonderful blessings that You have bestowed upon us. We thank You for the safe travels of everyone here tonight and for bringing Ariella and Alex to our humble abode. We pray that while they’re here, they will feel safe, secure, and at home. We promise to treat them like the family they are. Thank You for the food and all of Your provisions. In your name, Amen.”
We all chime in with an “Amen,” I see a twinkle in my father’s eyes as he asks for someone to pass the potatoes.
Conversation ensues around the table until my mom asks a question I’ve also been meaning to ask. “Ariella, I have a question for you. You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal, but I’m also far too curious to refrain. So, please forgive me in advance for my bluntness.”
Ariella puts down her utensils and folds her hands together in her lap. “By all means, ask.” Her slightly turned-down lips indicate that she may already have an idea of what my mom’s question will be.
“Okie dokie. When you arrived here today, and my son was introducing you, he used the last name of Argos. You said it was still Caras. Why didn’t you take…” My mom searches through her mental Rolodex for the Prince’s name.
“Kiernan?” Ariella asks.
“Yes, Kiernan. Why didn’t you take his last name when you eloped? I remember it was all over the news and in the gossip rags.”
Ariella’s eyes narrow slightly at my mom’s question, but I don’t interject because it’s something that has been niggling at me as well. With Alex calling his father “Kiernan” rather than “Dad,” things aren’t adding up for me.
The silence in the room is deafening as we wait for her answer. When she does, it isn’t what I was expecting.
“There are a couple of reasons. One, it isn’t necessary when we are both diplomats for our respective countries and the people are familiar with who we are. But the second and most important reason is that we were never married.”
If there was ever a ‘mike drop’ moment for me, this is it. My cutlery falls on my plate as I stare at her dumbfounded. No one says a word except for Savannah.
As the only one in the group besides my parents who has even a remote bit of knowledge about my relationship with Ariella—and even she doesn’t know it all—she says, “This is better than any reality television.”
Ariella ignores her and looks at me with pleading eyes while mine are beginning to blur with unshed tears. The one and only time I have ever cried was when my grandpappy passed away. When she starts to speak, I hold up my hand and shake my head.
“Excuse me. I need to leave.” I have never walked away from anyone or anything until this moment, but I’m afraid if I speak, I’ll say something I’ll regret. Placing my napkin on my mostly full plate, I get up from the table and head outside.
Once I’m in the brisk, cool air, it doesn’t take long for my walk to turn into a run. I’m not sure what I’m running from or what I’m running to. All I know is that I don’t feel in control and need to let someone else take the reins while I clear my mind. I run and pray. When I get to the edge of the property, I let out a primal scream and drop to my knees to pray some more.
“God, why would you keep her from me for all these years? Did she not love me enough? Why did she fake a marriage when she knew I was waiting for her? It’s not fair!” I know I sound like a petulant child, but I feel like I’m being punished.
My answer comes via a memory, the words I spoke to Savannah thrown back at me, “That’s because He has something better planned than what you desire. Trust Him to know what’s best.”
Trusting Him to know what’s best, I eventually manage to pick myself up off the ground and head home.