Chapter Twenty-Two
Ezra
M y thumb hovered over the “decline” button on my phone. I couldn’t ignore him. Not again.
The grocery store loomed outside of my truck window. Ripe maple leaves swirled in the parking lot while Marigold whisked pancake batter at home. We were out of syrup and orange juice.
I told her it would only take me a minute.
With a sigh, I answered the call and put it on speaker mode.
“Ezra, it’s been too long.”
I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose. “I know, Father.”
“How are you? How’s the farm?”
This wasn’t small talk. He wanted to know the ugly, terrible things I kept secret. I couldn’t give him this burden while he was still locked away. God-willing, he’d be out in a year or two, and then we could talk in person. I’d never tell him what I’d done to keep the farm. I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in his eyes. “We’re both splendid.”
“Don’t lie to me. Your sister was here last weekend. She told me the crops were bad this year. How long have you got?”
Father understood the financial problems I faced better than anyone. He was in jail for a crime he didn’t commit, and I was outside doing something that could land me in prison. “Don’t worry about the farm.”
“Son.” His tone held a warning.
If growing pot worked, then the farm wouldn’t be in a dire predicament when he returned. This score with Jake would grant me suitable time to make money on next year’s crop. If I wanted to save enough for a down payment on land in vineyard country, then I’d have to continue growing pot on the side, surrender my dream, or pray the farm’s profits shot heavenward.
“I look forward to seeing you,” I said.
“Son, I don’t want you to end up here.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
The sound of voices, bangs, and commands filtered through my father’s silence. “The guilty party doesn’t always pay the price,” he finally said.
My gaze shot to the phone. Numbers on the screen ticked away the seconds. We didn’t have much longer. “What are you saying?” Was he finally about to admit that Duncan Shaw framed him?
Shouts rang through the speaker. “Father?”
“Hold on a second, son.”
“Stop!” yelled a faraway voice. “Get on the ground.” Shuffles and bangs screeched through the speaker.
“Father?”
A woman screamed. There was a loud crack. It sounded like the phone fell. “Jar, put that thing down.” My father’s voice.
I couldn’t do anything except listen.
“Both of you, get on the ground!”
My hands clenched.
“He says you’ll never get out.” A man’s voice. Then a grunt. A gunshot that made me jolt. Yells. Pounding feet.
“Prisoners down. Call the medic.”
The voices came through clearer. Someone must have lifted the phone off the floor.
Another voice. “We’ve got one man with a stab wound and another with a gunshot wound.”
Click.
The numbers stopped counting the seconds of the call as my phone returned to the home screen. Spots blurred my vision as my heart raced.
My father had just been either stabbed or shot. The attack sounded personal, like somebody didn’t want him released.
A woman with a baby pushed her cart past the front of my parked truck. Someone parked a white GMC across the lot. The vibration of carts being pushed back to the store hummed through the closed windows. A black Chevy slid into the space opposite mine.
A faraway feeling overcame me, like I was watching myself from above yet totally present in the moment.
I slammed the truck door, pulse pounding with vengeance as I stalked my prey. If Duncan Shaw couldn’t pay for his sins, then his son would. My father was bleeding—maybe dying —on a prison floor, and the root of his fate was tied to the man stepping out of that black Chevy.
With a swift motion, I used my fist to push Levi back into his truck before he could fully step out. “I’ll kill you if he dies,” I said.
He braced himself on the steering wheel and kicked.
I pivoted. His heels struck my hip instead of my gut. Pain exploded through my pelvis, but I didn’t let it slow me. I grabbed his legs before he could retract them and tried to drag him out onto the asphalt, but he held fast to the wheel. I punched him in the stomach, loosening his hold until I had him on the ground. The air left his lungs as his back smacked the hard pavement.
He lifted his arms, but his body was too weak without breath. I wasn’t aware of what I said as I pounded my fists into his face, chest, and abdomen. The world around me blurred into a haze of red fury.
He grunted as blood spurted out of his nose.
He dodged one of my blows, causing my fist to connect with the parking lot. Blood oozed from my knuckles as bruises formed on Levi’s face.
Red. Red. Red.
Strong hands heaved me off my target. Levi gasped, spit blood, and rolled into a fetal position on his side. The hands hauled me backward as I spewed curses at Levi.
Jackson, wearing his sheriff’s uniform and a wide-brimmed hat, appeared in my line of sight.
“Get it together, Ezra.” He nodded to whoever held me back. “Bring him to the station.”
The red haze dissipated by the time the officers escorted me away. They handcuffed me to the chair outside Jackson’s office. “You think he’s okay? Or should we put him in a cell?”
The younger officer glanced at me. “You gonna cause any more trouble?”
Fear gripped me, replacing the anger that had consumed me moments before. What if my father was dead? What if I couldn’t go to him?
The older officer patted me on the shoulder as he left.
I had to call my mother. I was working to drag the chair toward a phone when Jackson stomped in and barked, “Sit down.”
I did as he commanded.
He paced in front of me, saying nothing, hat in his hands. Then he went on a tirade. “Levi claims you attacked him without being provoked. Bystanders say you repeated ‘I’ll kill you’ as you beat him. Is this true?"
“Call the state prison. Find out if my father is alive.”
Jackson set his hands on his hips as I told him what I’d heard on the phone. “I’ll see what I can find,” he said, then he disappeared into his office.
The next thirty minutes felt like a year. Mother needed to hear the news. Marigold would be worried. I had to get off this blasted chair and do something .
Jackson walked out. “Samuel King is in stable condition. They won’t release any further details.”
I slumped with relief.
“Ezra, you assaulted someone.”
“Is Levi pressing charges?”
“An officer is driving him to Elizabeth Shaw’s house. I don’t know what state he’s in. Let me make another call.” He closed himself in his office again.
Jackson returned and uncuffed me, granting relief to my wrists. “You’re free to go.”
I took two steps backward to put distance between us, rubbing the broken flesh of my knuckles.
“Elizabeth Shaw is speaking on behalf of Levi. She says they won’t press charges. You got lucky. I don’t want to see you here again. Understand?”
There was no denying his military background at a time like this. “Yes, sir,” I said.
I walked the few blocks to my truck and then sped home, parked in front of Mother’s house, and ran inside.
She met me at the door. “What happened? Levi was brought here in quite a state. They say you attacked him.”
I explained the phone call but intentionally left out the part about me losing control. “If we leave now, we can be there by early afternoon.” Never mind that I hadn’t visited my father in over a year.
She rushed to gather her belongings.
“I’ll be right back,” I yelled after her.
I ran to my house. As I entered the kitchen, I spotted Marigold sitting at the island listening to music, a mug of steaming coffee in front of her. When she saw me, she jumped up and turned off the music. “Where have you been? I tried calling, but . . .” She noticed the blood oozing from my hand.
I strode toward her and gripped her shoulders. “Someone attacked my father in prison. I need to bring Mother there now. Will you be okay alone for a night or two?”
She couldn’t stop looking at my hands.
“Listen,” I said, grabbing her attention with my voice. “Will you be okay?”
“Y–yes.”
I hated that she saw me as a monster.
Maybe I was.
For the hundredth time, I wondered how I could ask a girl like her to love me. How could I expect her to stay when she didn’t even know how my hands were bloodied? I couldn’t explain it to her. That would give her a reason to hate me even more.
I kissed her forehead and then packed a bag.
Mother met me in front of my Bronco.
Marigold stood on the porch, watching as I drove away.
Marigold
Movement at Beth’s house caught my attention as Ezra’s Bronco faded into the distance. We’d hardly spoken since I came to stay with Ezra, but the frantic activity behind her windows compelled me to approach and tap on her door.
Her hair had escaped its bun, creating a wild frame around her face. “Yes?”
“Is everything okay?”
Her expression twisted in concern. “Where’s Ezra?”
“He just left with Courtney. Something happened to his dad.”
“Perhaps we can forgive him then.”
“ Forgive him?”
“He just beat Levi in the grocery store parking lot. He’s inside if you want to see him.”
The blood was Levi’s? I wanted to slap Ezra across the face. How could he?
Beth and I stood in silence, enveloped by the crisp November air. Levi and I hadn’t truly spoken since the day I’d left, and I felt like a limb was missing in his absence. Could I forgive him for his falsehood? The more pressing question lingered: did he even want to see me? The girl who had left him for the man he hated. The man who had just drawn his blood.
No, he wouldn’t want to see me, and neither was I prepared to interact with him. “Is he okay?”
Beth clenched and unclenched her fists. She was like a momma bear who was willing to go to war for her son. “He’ll heal eventually, but this is the worst I’ve seen him.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, unable to stay in her presence. I ran down her steps and then forced myself to walk. As my feet carried me away, it felt like my heart was split into two halves: one with Levi and one with Ezra.
Ezra and I had grown close.
Very close.
Close enough to share a bed.
In a few short weeks, we’d gone from friends to lovers, and I didn’t want to lose him. Yes, I loved him—but I couldn’t dismiss what he’d done to Levi.
Was it safe for me to love a man like Ezra?
The nagging doubts clawed at me, threatening to unravel my world once more. I had nowhere else to turn.
I crossed the dirt road to a fallow field and continued my brisk walk away from Levi. Facing him would be too much for me to handle. He would ask why I’d remained with Ezra, but I couldn’t answer that question. I wasn’t sure if I would continue to live with him after this.
Three times he’d come to me bloodied, and never once had he given me an explanation. I couldn’t help but wonder . . . would he hurt me if provoked? Was I safe with Ezra? He’d been gentle and kind, but something lurked within him that I’d never seen.
A copse of trees loomed in the distance with a muffled outline behind them. I changed course to a two-track that wound toward the structure.
Since moving to the farm, I’d spent my time in the main farmhouse, the garden, and the serene orchard area, with frequent trips taken to the truck graveyard. Our days were spent enjoying campfires in the backyard or strolling through the orchards and fields. I’d lived within a few acres, and it had been beautiful. Tranquil.
Until today.
As I trudged forward, arms wrapped tightly around myself to ward off the November chill, a weathered barn emerged from behind the trees. Fresh tire tracks imprinted the soil at my boots.
Strange.
I’d never noticed a truck on this drive. The temperature seemed to drop as I entered the trees. The usual sounds of nature faded away—no more wind rustling through fields or cars humming on distant roads; only an eerie silence enveloped me with every step I took, amplifying each footfall in the unnatural hush. I squeezed my arms tighter around myself.
The tire tracks stopped abruptly at double barn doors. Glancing around, I cautiously advanced toward them. A padlock and chain denied entry.
Frowning, I reached out to inspect the lock. The barn looked old and seasoned with worn wood and faded paint, but the lock appeared new and shiny. I gave it a tug. It clanked but stayed in place.
Surveying the exterior of the structure, I noted that besides the locked doors, the only other possible entrance was a window perched high above them. I circled the perimeter and found remnants of a past celebration—four paper plates bearing the inscription “Mr. & Mrs.”, two red solo cups, a smattering of wooden furniture, and a ladder that looked more decorative than functional.
This must have been where Lillian’s wedding took place.
The ladder wasn’t too heavy to carry to the front of the barn. Wood clattered against wood as I hefted it into place. Fortunately, it was tall enough to get me to the window.
Now, the real test: it’s durability.
With cautious steps and bated breath, I ascended slowly. The ladder wobbled as I neared the top. I slowed and took the rungs one careful step at a time.
The window appeared newer than the barn. Probably an upgrade for the wedding. I pulled the latch, hoping to find it unlocked.
The hinges screeched as it opened, and I darted my gaze around. The woods remained quiet and still.
Careful not to push the ladder away from the wall, I clutched the sill and hiked my leg over the side and onto a loft. The inside of the barn felt warmer than the outside, like there was a heat source.
I crept across the wooden boards to a rickety staircase, careful not to make a noise— although I was almost certain I was alone. It would be impossible to padlock the door from the inside.
At the bottom of the stairs, I observed a series of tents against the right wall. The heat was radiating from them. I almost tripped over a toolbox on my way to a tent. The clatter of metal on concrete made me stiffen. I waited for someone to assail me, but nothing happened.
The tent stood tall and rectangle, too narrow to sleep in. Curious, I unzipped the side.
Cozy plants filled the interior. The other tents contained the same greenery. It didn’t take a botanist to recognize them.
And faster than the snap of a finger, the padlock made sense. Ezra’s secrecy made sense. His wounds made sense.
He was growing marijuana.
Marijuana was illegal in Tennessee.
And if he was growing pot, that meant he must be selling it too. If he was both growing and selling, he knew people who were willing to break the law. People who would give him a busted face. Or worse.
“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,” I whispered.
I knew he wasn’t telling me the entire truth, yet I’d allowed my disagreement with Levi to propel me into a relationship with him. Falling for Ezra was easy. He was handsome and well-respected. Plus, he adored me.
But I knew better. I was smarter than this.
His secrets grew in this barn. Who had smashed his face? Why was he doing this? I’d never seen him smoke a joint, and he’d never once mentioned pot or CBD oil to me.
Tears misted my eyes. This discovery didn’t surprise me. A salty drop ran down my cheek as I admitted to myself the truth: I’d been holding back my love for him.
It was easy to think I loved him when he cared for me. When we were natural friends. When we had fun together. I liked him. He let me bloom.
But he kept this from me. He’d shared his hopes and dreams, sure—but not this. His secret.
I hurried up the stairs and back down the ladder, tears blurring my vision. What should I do? I couldn’t keep living with him and pretend to love him with the same ferocity he loved me.
I no longer trusted him.
The discovery made me wish to see Levi.
After returning the ladder, I ran across the field to the house and knocked on Beth’s door. No one answered. I checked the driveway. Her truck was gone. She must have driven him back to the cabin.
I sank against the door and sat on her porch. What should I do now? I could drive to him, but the tears wouldn’t stop trickling down my face. Tears of shame and embarrassment for deceiving myself. Driving might not be the best idea.
Ezra’s house loomed next door.
If I left Levi because of a lie, I should leave Ezra for the same reason. He might be discovered and arrested. He was the sheriff’s brother-in-law, for Pete’s sake. What did he think he was doing?
He wouldn’t be back until at least tomorrow.
I had time to decide what to do.