Chapter 12
SARGE
“You have got to be kidding me!” I yelled, glaring at my phone as if it had just insulted me. When it didn’t respond–not that I expected it to–I checked at the monitors, grabbed my phone, and called my brother. As soon as his voice came through the speaker, I asked, “What the fuck, man?”
Bill’s laughter filled the cab. “Found out who the killer was, didn’t ya?”
“I never saw that coming!”
“Neither did I. You still out working the windbreak?”
“I’m plowing thirty-eight while I wait for the tree delivery.”
“When Ma gets an idea in her head, she makes shit happen immediately, doesn’t she?” Bill asked.
His tone was off, so I knew he was suspicious. I didn’t want to bring him into this mess, so I said, “She’s been talking about it for ages, and I guess she had them on hold. No time like the present, I suppose.”
“I’m surprised your buddies aren’t out there helping you.”
“This really isn’t a two-person job. I’m sure they’re up at the house bothering Ma while I work.”
“No, all four of them are working. Sully rode over to Kansas City with Parker to pick up supplies, and Frog went into town with Ford to get a part for one of the compressors. Duke is riding fence with Farley, and Okie’s going over irrigation plans with Paxton.”
“Hey, free labor is never a bad thing.”
“We’ll have to make sure Ma cooks something special to repay them, since they’re working for free. I’m sure that’s not what they came to do.”
“You know my friends tend to appear out of the blue,” I reminded him. “Happens all the time.”
Bill stayed quiet for a minute before saying, “I guess that’s true.”
“While they’re here, we’re planning to do some night fishing. Hopefully, we’ll bring in enough for Ma to have a fish fry.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“I’ll check with Ma and Starla to see which day works best and get back to you.”
“I’m not sure what I’m looking forward to more–the fishing or the food.”
“Get your poles ready, big brother. It’s time for another competition.”
“I’ve whipped your ass at every competition we’ve ever had, yet you’re still talking shit as if . . .”
I turned at the end of the row, which put me back in sight of the new tree line, and spotted not just the delivery truck, but a very unwelcome visitor. Without thinking, I snapped, “Well, fuck!”
“What’s going on?”
“Looks like the tree delivery is here, and for some reason, Satan has decided to visit. I don’t need her ass here right now, Bill.”
“Want me to send some backup?”
“All the backup, along with the cavalry and a few nukes.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Bill said right before ending the call.
“Shit. She’s been gone so long I thought she’d finally given up and moved away,” I muttered as the machine crawled down the row.
“This is the last fucking thing I want to deal with right now.” I scoffed, because that was an understatement, and added, “Or ever. If I never see that bitch again, it will be three days too soon.”
Fabiella, my crazy ex-wife, stood at the end of the row with her hands on her hips, waiting impatiently. She wore the same expression I’d seen a million times during our marriage, and the mere sight of it set me off now like it never had when we were together.
Every time I had a run-in with the Anti-Christ, I wondered what I’d seen in her all those years ago.
Then I reminded myself that without her, I wouldn’t have my boys.
That seemed to be the only reason I could find to stay even moderately civil, but she pushed that boundary every single time we spoke.
I could tell from the look on her face as I stepped down from the tractor that she planned to push as hard as possible today.
While she ranted and raved about whatever bullshit brought her out here, I figured I’d make a mental list of everything I hated most about prison and never wanted to experience again.
That was my go-to for dealing with the harpy.
But depending on her attitude–and how long her tirade lasted–those reasons didn’t feel like nearly enough of a deterrent.
“What?” I asked, walking toward her. Instead of stopping, I kept going and waved at the delivery driver, who was unloading his forklift to pull the trees off the trailer.
Ignoring Fabiella’s sputtering behind me, I called out, “Do you want me to get a tractor over here to help out?”
“Nah, I’ve got it, but you’ll need one to place the dirt once I drop them,” he said as the lift whined and lowered him and the smaller machine down to the ground.
I pulled the radio off my belt and asked one of the hands to bring a few helpers with shovels and the small dozer we used for jobs like this. Once he confirmed he was on his way, I turned around and glared at Fabiella.
“What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you!”
“Well, you’ve got about three minutes to finish before I get back to work.”
“What are you telling people about me?”
“I haven’t spoken your name to anyone in years,” I replied honestly.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“No, I’m serious. I call you all sorts of things, but never your government name.”
“Obviously, you have, because I met a man today who was all about chatting with me until I told him my name.”
“And you think I’m the only ex of yours with a reason to talk shit? I thought you were smarter than that.”
“When I told him my name was Fabiella, and I lived next to the Brick farm, he burst out laughing and then got up and walked away.”
I couldn’t even begin to guess which of my club brothers had done that, but I knew they’d heard enough about my ex-wife–including how much I hated the fact that she still owned the parcel of land that should have been mine–that they’d steer clear of her unless there weren’t any witnesses.
And then they might do something I’d be forever grateful for.
I shook off that pleasant daydream and went back to my list.
“I’ll have you know that I . . .”
I’m too old to sleep on an uncomfortable mattress. After just one night, my back would lock up for a week, and a life sentence would probably kill me.
“And every single time I . . .”
As much as I’d appreciate a few days of peace and quiet, I knew damn well I’d go batshit in solitary.
“He barely says a word to me when I see him . . .”
And the food! That shit damn near killed me. I felt like hell for weeks trying to adjust, and then we’d go on lockdown and it was sandwiches for fucking days. Oh, hell no.
“And I know it’s because of your mother . . .”
It would kill Ma to lose me again, even though she’d completely understand why I lost my shit and had to go back.
“Do you know what she told . . .”
Hell, I’m surprised Ma hasn’t already made the death of this soul-sucking quicksand look like a horrible accident.
“I’ve had about enough of her shit, Graham! You tell her . . .”
Considering how calmly Ma reacted to a bucket full of bloody clothes and a half-dead man on her couch, I’m almost sure she’s done some shit I don’t know about and probably never will.
“And who is that bitch?”
I snapped out of my thoughts about my mother’s possibly nefarious past when I realized the backup Bill had sent was none other than our Ma and the gorgeous woman I couldn’t get out of my head.
“Time’s up! You need to go!”
“How deep did you dig those holes, son?” Ma asked. “Do I need to call a priest to get the swamp-rat demon back through the portal, or can I stuff her through it myself?”
“Don’t threaten me and stop calling me a swamp-rat!” Fabiella said, glaring at Ma before turning her attention to Starla. “Who are you?”
“Back up there, Fatal Attraction,” Starla said, giving Fabiella a once-over as she sauntered towards us. I was so shocked at her words that I couldn’t even react when she put her hand on my chest and tiptoed up to kiss me. “Hi, honey. Are you ready for lunch? I brought you something special.”
I heard Fabiella growl at the same time Ma snickered, but I was still too stunned to speak.
Every woman I’d dated–and even a few I’d only thought about dating–had been so intimidated by Fabiella that they’d never consider going toe-to-toe with her.
Yet here was sweet Starla throwing down the gauntlet like she was ready to start a war.
Fabiella and I divorced more than twenty years ago, but she still believed she held some kind of power over me. I hadn’t touched her for months before my prison sentence because, somewhere deep inside, I knew she cheated on me–and the saddest part was that I hadn’t cared.
Honestly, I still didn’t. The woman could bang every member of our town’s new rugby team, the senior citizens’ bowling league, and every guard and convict in the nearby federal prison.
The only reason I might care was the worry that every time she used the shower in that dump she called a home, her skanky ass might taint the aquifer and poison our crops.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“You’re still here? Shoo. Go on, now,” Starla ordered, waving her hand as if she were batting away a pesky insect. “The grown-ups are talking, and I’m sure you’ve got some poor schmuck to blow for gas money.”
Ma didn’t snort this time; she howled with laughter. To make matters worse, the man on the nearby forklift did the same damn thing. This situation could go horribly wrong or make my dreams come true, and right now, I wasn’t sure those outcomes were any different.
Fabiella gasped in shock. “Did you just . . .”
“I did, I’ll do it again, and I don’t need you flapping your knob-slobberers like it’s up for fucking debate,” Starla scoffed. “I told you to get going, and I meant it. Go home and think about your life choices while you call your doctor for another round of antibiotics.”
“You bitch!” Fabiella shrieked.
“If you don’t start moving in the next three seconds, I’m going to say ugly things that will make you cry.”
Fabiella shot me a wide-eyed look, then turned back at Starla. Without another word, she stomped off toward the rattletrap golf cart she used to get around her property.
Without thinking, I dropped to one knee. Starla’s eyes went wide with horror right before I asked, “Starla Ready, will you marry me?”
◆◆◆
“Pop, you’ve set the phone lines on fire today!” Garrison said as he walked toward me with his brothers close behind.
Grant hooted with laughter. “Did your girlfriend really call Mom a disease-infested lot lizard?”
I heard my brothers laughing inside the barn and grinned. “I’m not sure Starla’s quite ready to put a label on our relationship.”
“Even though you already proposed?” my nephew Tobias called out from the shadows inside the barn.
I walked toward the barn with my sons following me, both of them twittering like little kids who’d gotten away with something big. “She avoided my question.”
“Ma said she didn’t completely avoid it.
While she shut off the alarm on her watch, she calmly asked him if he’d bumped his head or felt feverish,” Gabe added.
“Mom called after she got home and was so freakin’ mad she couldn’t even form a complete sentence.
When she finally managed it, she asked what made Starla think she could talk to her like that. ”
“And what did you tell her?” my brother Jack asked from his seat on a hay bale next to our brother Paul.
Gable chuckled. “I said, ‘Apparently, she did,’ and then Mom hung up on me.”
I hated that my sons didn’t have a good relationship with their mother, but that wasn’t on me–that was all her.
Fabiella wasn’t anything like the woman I fell in love with, or at least the woman I thought she was.
After we married, I quickly discovered she had no interest in settling down.
She only went through with it because she was pregnant with our first child.
I had to admit she tried, at least for a few years, but then she stopped caring what anyone thought of her choices and lived exactly how she wanted.
She’s still that way. She only talks to our sons when she wants something. If she needs help moving furniture or wants a loan, she suddenly remembers the “mom card.”. The rest of the time, she went her own way and ignored everything else.
That became glaringly evident when she basically traded custody of our three sons for a plot of land and a seasonal cut of cash, depending on what my family’s hard work brought in at harvest.
“She’s gonna come back swinging,” Bill warned. “She never lets anything keep her out of the fight for long.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” I muttered, already worried about what Fabiella might do–not just to me, but to Starla. She wasn’t above fighting dirty. Her track record made that clear. She’d made plenty of people’s lives a living hell when they crossed her.
Just last year, she’d made it her mission to close down a bakery in town because she felt insulted when the counter employee offered her sugar-free options.
In Fabiella’s mind, that implied the young woman was calling her fat.
Luckily, she caused such a stink that someone posted about her accusations on Facebook.
The post brought other people out of the woodwork with tales of their own run-ins with her.
The backlash boosted sales at the bakery so much that the owners not only kept the original employee who had served Fabiella, but they also had to hire two more workers to keep up with demand.
I was positive that Ma and her cronies had a lot to do with that turnaround, and I knew that gave them joy.
They’d been with Ma through the ups and downs of my arrest, my time inside, and the years she spent raising my sons.
The way Fabiella so carelessly threw away her own children was such a foreign concept to Ma.
Ma would throw away her own life to care for anyone in her family, and she’d developed a bone-deep hatred for my ex that rivaled my own.
“We’ll see if we can chill her out,” Grant promised.
“If nothing else, we can just piss her off and take the focus off Starla for a while,” Garrison added. “Shouldn’t be hard.”
“Don’t wade in on my account,” I warned. ”And from what I saw today, I’d say Starla can hold her own against your mother.”
“Her own?” Bill chortled. “From what I heard, we should charge for ringside seats. I wish I hadn’t missed it. I know the wives would have loved to witness Fabiella shocked silent for any length of time.”
Bill was right. Now that my boys were adults, my sisters-in-law didn’t bother hiding their disdain for Fabiella, whether to her face or when her name came up in conversation.
I was sure that once we finally got everyone together and Starla met the rest of the women in my family, they’d hail her as a hero.
I already felt that way about her, and I planned to show her exactly how much I appreciated her stepping in today the second we got a minute alone.