by N. C. Reed
“Dungeons and Dragons, I'm sure,” Gordy snorted. “It's a nerd game,” he explained when his grandparents looked at him.
“Oh, I love Dungeons and Dragons!” Janice almost shrieked. “Think they'd let me play?”
“I'm sure they would have asked you if they knew you played,” Alicia nodded.
“Mister Leon, can I-” she began, turning to Leon.
“Yes, yes, of course you can,” Leon was genuinely agitated. “I've told you before, girl, you ain't got to ask me to do stuff! You're a grown woman for goodness sake!”
“Don't be mean,” Marla Jones told him at once. “She's showing you respect. That's all.”
“Well, I ain't used to getting any respect,” Leon grumbled as he fought to hide his embarrassment. “Caught me by surprise.”
“We 'll teach her how to deal with you, Old Man,” Clay offered and everyone laughed.
“You're all in it against me,” Leon mumbled. “All of you.”
“I think I 'll walk over with you if you don't mind,” Samantha said and Janice nodded at once.
“Sure!”
“You want to go, Abby?” Samantha asked, turning to look at her friend.
“No,” was the simple reply.
“Oh. Okay then,” Samantha was clearly disappointed but didn't let it stop her. “Come on then Janice.”
“I 'll walk over with you two,” Gordy offered, getting to his feet and picking up his rifle. “See you all tomorrow,” he told everyone.
“Tell Pancho to let me know if they need me to catch a watch,” Clay ordered and Gordy nodded as he held the door open for the two girls. Soon only his flashlight beam showed where they were.
“That 'll end in a fight right there,” Leon predicted.
“Think so?” Clay asked.
“Know so,” Leon nodded. “Unless they decide to share him,” he cackled.
“Pa, that's enough of that talk,” Angela scolded. “That's my grandson we're talking about.”
“Wait and see what I tell you,” Leon was adamant. “Unless one of them gets hooked by some of that new crowd, you see if I'm wrong.”
“She already said that's enough, Old Man,” Marla Jones was dragging Leon to his feet. “Hush your fool mouth and let’s go. Brick, see if you can get this worthless carcass on his feet.”
“Yes ma'am,” Brick was fighting laughter as he helped Leon up, to much squawking from said 'carcass'.
“All of you!” Leon complained yet again. “Good as I've been to all of you and you all join forces against me!”
Laughter followed the trio out. Soon it was just Gordon and Angela, Clay and Lainie, and Abigail.
“Well, I'm headed home,” Clay said suddenly. “Ready to go?” he asked Lainie.
“You bet,” she smiled but Clay just nodded and started for the door. Sighing, Lainie followed, her smile gone.
Abigail got slowly to her feet and left the outdoor kitchen without a word or a glance back. Angela just shook her head as she and Gordon extinguished the lights and banked the fires.
“That girl's stubbornness is going to cost her everything around her if she don't change,” she said as the two of them got ready to go inside the house.
“Yep.”
-
She waited until they were inside their cabin before speaking.
“Clay, how long are you going to be mad at me?” she asked softly.
“I'm not mad,” he said at once, shaking his head.
“Then is this,” she motioned between them, “going to be how it is from now on? You speaking to me only when you have to? Freezing me out?”
“I've been trying to watch what I say,” he admitted. “I don't know what I can tell you so I have to weigh my words before I speak. That's all.”
“You don't have to watch what you say to me!” Lainie's exasperation roared forth. “While I may have gone about it wrong, I was only trying to help you!”
“After I told you clearly that I didn't need any help,” Clay nodded, still infuriatingly calm. “I'm not stupid, Lainie. You were projecting your issues with your parents and your mother's boyfriend on to me because I got drunk on New Years. You assumed, without any facts to back that assumption up, that I was in danger of becoming addicted, being an alcoholic. No proof said problem existed, no previous experience with me to point to, no prior convictions the cops would say. First time since you've known me that you've seen me drink more than a beer or two.”
“And I made the mistake of telling you that in addition to being a good time it helped me sleep,” he rubbed his head slowly. He kept rubbing his head for a minute before stopping, hands falling to his side.
“This isn't the first time you've rushed to judgment on me, Lainie,” Clay pointed out. “Maybe I should be asking how long you're going to treat me that way?”
“That's not fair,” Lainie's voice was soft. “We agreed that we would act as if that never happened.”
“I didn't mention anything in particular, either,” he kept his voice reasonable. “But can you at least admit that you were projecting other people's issues on to me? Or do we pretend that didn't happen either?”
“I was just trying to help you,” she grated out.
“Keep saying it often enough, long enough, and it becomes the truth, that it?” his voice was infuriatingly calm. “You sound like a broken record. I told you then, I'm telling you now just like I've told you since; I don't need help. I don't have a damned drinking problem. Like as not I won't have another drink at all for months! Now is that something a damn alcoholic or addict would be able to say? You make it sound like I'm some kind of sot, Lainie. All because I was stupid enough to admit something to you. So, I'm watching what I say. I don't want you trying to 'help' me with something else,” he made air quotes with his hands.
“All I was trying to do-”
“If you say 'help you' then I swear we are gonna have a problem,” Clay's voice had real anger in it for the first time. Lainie was caught up short by it.
“I'm tired of defending myself against some kind of phantom 'problem',” he told her. “Not going to do it anymore. There is no problem. I'm not in denial, I don't need help. I made a stupid decision to admit something to you and here we are. So, don't be surprised when I don't talk so much.”
“Clay, if I didn't care about you I wouldn't have said anything,” Lainie told him. “Please don't be angry that I'm worried about you.”
“You're still projecting,” he replied. “I'm not angry. Something else I've told you before. Disappointed? A little. Last night was looking pretty good until you ruined it. Tired of hearing it? Absolutely. Angry? No. I'm not nor have I ever been angry. Just disappointed. You seem determined to force some kind of 'problem' label on me when there isn't one. I can't figure out why and I'm tired of trying. I'm tired. Been up a long time and worked a good part of the day so I'm going to bed. Good night.”
And with that he made his way to the bedroom, leaving her in the living room alone.
“Dammit.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
-
“Relationships don't develop overnight, Lainie.” Marla Jones looked at her grand-daughter over a cup of coffee. “And no matter how hot the fire burns, it will drop to a smolder at some point so there had better be some mutual interests other than physical attraction to take the place of that fire.”
“There's nothing wrong with our. . .fire,” Lainie blushed. “At least there wasn't. Not until-”
“Until you messed it up,” Marla nodded. “Girl, I love you more than anything else on God's green Earth, and Lord knows you've had some rough times, but that is one fine young man you managed to get hold of. I know a drunk when I see one, and he ain't one. I understand you wanting to make sure of that,” she held up a hand to forestall any comeback, “but he was right, wasn't he? How often have you seen him indulge since you've known him?”
“Very few,” Lainie admitted. “Almost none in fact.”
“And how often have you seen
him plastered like he was New Years?” Marla pressed.
“Just the once.”
“So really, you based your assumption that he needed help on. . .a drunken holiday celebration?” Marla raised an eyebrow at her. “Now can you honestly see where his non-anger is coming from?”
“Yes,” was the almost sullen answer. “I didn't come up here to ask your critique of how I got here,” she told her grandmother. “I came up here to see if you could help me fix it.”
“Learning how it got broke is the first step in fixing anything,” her grandmother shot right back. “The simple fact is that he hasn't done anything out of line. That means this is all on you, Lainie.” Marla leaned forward onto the table.
“You two haven't been together that long. You don't have the firm foundation that couples who have been together longer usually have. That means you got nothing to hold yourselves in place. See, when a couple that's been together a while get into it, their common interests keep them solid until that rough patch blows over. You two ain't never done that. You met, had the hots for one another, and then started going at it like bunnies without no thought of the future at all. Right?”
“I really wish you could leave my sex life out of your lessons,” Lainie's face was burning. “But. . .more or less,” she admitted with a nod.
“Now, here you are, feeling stuck with each other,” Marla ignored the complaint. “Especially you, since you're living in his house, on his farm. Am I right?”
“No, I hadn't considered that,” Lainie shook her head. “And while it might be his house and farm, I have a substantial investment in this operation.”
“How substantial?” Marla looked surprised.
“Over one hundred grand,” Lainie replied. She could not have slapped her grandmother and gotten a more shocked reaction from her.
“Where did you get all that?”
“I earned it,” Lainie told her. “I worked my ass off, literally, and I invested everything I didn't have to have to live on. I cashed all of it out the day this started and spent it here. I didn't come down here the same way I left. A pauper. I put as much into this operation as anyone else did.”
“She did,” Leon agreed as he walked through and patted her on the shoulder. “More than most, in fact,” he added.
“Thank you, Leon,” she smiled up at him.
“Don't make you any less stubborn, Pussycat,” he told her. “Boy ain't got a drinking problem. If he did, I'd know it.”
“I didn't say he had one, I said that what he described to me was the first stage of having one,” she explained for the umpteenth time.
“Lainie, redneck boys drink, drive too fast, and chase girls,” Leon told her. “Clay and Greg Holloway and Big Jake Sidell would get shit-faced drunk any and every weekend they could get enough alcohol to do the job. None of them are alcoholics. Do they drink? Yes. Probably not as much as they did then, but they do. Are they addicts or alcoholics because of it? No. And won't be, assuming nothing changes. Honestly, if Jake didn't turn into one after what happened with his wife then I dare say nothing will do it for him.”
“Again, I don't need help realizing where I screwed up,” Lainie fought not to scream. “I need help figuring out how to make it right.”
“Apologize,” Marla told her. “Without saying 'I was trying to help you',” she added before Lainie could tell her she'd already done that. “Don't qualify it. Don't act like you're defending it. You made the screw-up, Lainie. You stuck your foot in your mouth based on fears that have followed you all your life. Sounds like he knows that already since he said you're projecting and he's right. So, explain those fears to him. Don't hide them, or try to act like you're just doing this for him. Let him know that you were looking out for yourself, too.”
“Good idea,” Leon nodded. “He's smart. Lot smarter than he let’s on. Gets it from me, of course,” he added. “Quit trying to excuse it and just tell him the honest truth. You're afraid. More than likely he's got some fears of his own. Only way you two can grow together is to start admitting them to each other. And you're gonna have to be patient with that because to someone who has lived like he has, admitting to fear of any kind is probably considered blasphemy of some kind.”
“I'd go with that,” Marla agreed.
“Well as always, you two are just a fountain of advice,” Lainie sighed.
-
Clay's day had been pretty full. The temperature was still below freezing and it had been snowing off and on all day, but work was still there. He had used the side-by-side to ride the fences, checking to make sure they were undamaged. That had taken a while even before adding the new farm to the mix. With the new land it took almost twice as long. He had come across Gordy on his four-wheeler, the teenager having taken a maul to break the ice on the small ponds and water holes that dotted the Sanders' land so that cattle could drink their fill.
“Any problems?” he asked his nephew.
“None I've seen,” Gordy shook his head. “I opened all the water holes a bit. Probably freeze again tonight but the cattle can get water while they're open.”
“Good move. I've checked the fences all way around,” Clay told him. “There's no damage, though there were a couple of near misses. Good number of trees down around the place so we can cut them up once the weather breaks. If there had been more ice in this it would have been a mess.”
“Yeah, for sure,” Gordy nodded. “Before next winter we need to make double sure about trees that could hit anything important. Fences we can fix, no problem. Other stuff might be an issue.”
“True that,” Clay agreed. “Well, I'm going to make sure the paths I opened yesterday are still good and maybe throw out a little rock salt if we need it. I don't want to waste it but I don't want ice on walking paths, either. Someone falls and breaks a hip, that's almost a death sentence.”
“That's true,” Gordy nodded. “Maybe we can get. . .well, no, we can't 'get' anything like that, but maybe we can build some sort of electric cart. Something that runs on an electric motor, like a washing machine motor or something? See what I mean?”
“Yeah, something belt driven,” Clay mused, thinking about it. “That sounds like a job for the twins and Big Jake. He could build it I'm sure if the twins could come up with a design that works. We may have to try and raid some place to get a few parts,” he sighed.
“Well, so long as we don't hurt anyone doing it I'd say that's allowed,” Gordy shrugged. “And we can always try to trade for or buy what we need assuming business owners are still around.”
“Good idea, and would foster some good will for us,” Clay nodded. “And there should be plenty of washing machines and other electric odds and ends available since there's no power left. That's a good plan, Gordy,” he complimented.
“Well, there's a lot of free time right now,” his nephew dead-panned. “I gotta go, Uncle Clay,” he stepped onto his ride. “We're still training half a day.”
“It's good for you,” Clay promised. “How's it coming?” Clay had not been a part of their training so far.
“We're working in the barn at the Troy house today,” Gordy told him. “Knife skills,” he said grimly.
“Good skills to have,” Clay assured him. “A knife never-”
“-runs dry or needs to be reloaded,” Gordy finished one of Tandi Maseo's favorite training maxims. “It's quiet and just as deadly as a rifle if used correctly.”
“So, it is,” Clay smiled. “Well, get to it then, and I 'll finish up. Your friends doing okay with it?”
“Better than I had expected,” Gordy nodded.
“Good deal. See you later.”
-
“Here, here and here,” Tandi held rubber training dummy by the throat from behind as he used a hard rubber training knife to demonstrate the next move. “Just because you stick or cut someone doesn't mean they're out of the fight. Even if they bleed out later, they can still hurt you until then. You have to make sure that your enemy is out of the fight.”
“This,” he pointed to the inside of the upper arm, “is a major vein. Bleeding is slow, less dramatic that what you see on television, but still effective. More importantly, there is a group of nerves running through this same area. Slice through them and that arm becomes useless.”
“Here, you have major organs,” he pointed to a place below the sternum. “A strike here can give you a quick kill, though still not instantaneous. Remember that most of the time you're trying for quiet, not quick. Speed is important in your movements, but remember that you have to be sure of your opponent before moving on. Never leave a living enemy that can attack you from behind.”
“When you penetrate, your blade should be aimed up, like this. . . .”
Six teenagers gave Maseo their undivided attention, as did one late twenty-something woman. Tully had been given a great deal of training over the years, but this was a golden opportunity to learn skills that were not usually taught to people like her. While she had many abilities, this wasn't one of them. When she had asked to be part of it, Maseo and Thompson had readily agreed.
All of them would occasionally blanch at Maseo's more descriptive expressions or his casual attitude toward blood and violence, but none of them looked away, realizing how important it was to their survival. They were learning from someone who had used these same skills time and again in the field. Knew what worked and what didn't. Knew how to put an enemy down and leave him there.
They each hoped it wouldn't be needed, but knew in their hearts that it almost certainly would, eventually. So…they learned. They trained. They prepared.
-
Clay got home to find Lainie waiting for him, standing in front of the sofa. Her face was pensive, almost as if she were waiting to deliver bad news.
“What's wrong?” Clay asked, concern showing on his features.
“I am,” she said simply. “Sit,” she pointed to the sofa. “Please,” she added. Clay moved to the sofa and sat down. Lainie knelt in front of him.
