How To Tame Beasts And Other Wild Things

by A. Wilding Wells

  At the same time, she exclaims, “I’m not going with you.”

  “What?” they both holler.

  “I lied,” she says. “I love you, Everit Pearl, but I lied.”

  “Lied that you we’re going over the cliff?”

  She nods.

  “Imogene, I don’t know how to tell you this. I was… Shit, this is good news, but somehow, right now, it doesn’t feel like it. I was misdiagnosed. I don’t have cancer. Fuck, this is crazy!”

  “What?” Balthazar says with an exploding laugh. How could he be laughing? His mother is going to die. My dad just told her that he doesn’t have cancer. This is beyond surreal.

  Imogene bursts out crying, her shoulders shake as she wraps her arms around my dad’s neck. She stays there, whispering for long seconds.

  “What?” Dad sobs. “Oh my god…You don’t?”

  Don’t what? Balthazar grabs me around the waist and swings me in circles. I have no idea why he’s so happy or what the hell is going on.

  “You’re not dying?” Dad cries.

  “Wait. What?” I blurt out. “Neither of you is dying?”

  “Not today!” they both cry.

  Did I say confused?

  “Imogene, marry me. Marry me now. We’ll make it official at the courthouse tomorrow!”

  Imogene nods then whispers, “Yes.” The only ones not crying, for once, are the twins.

  40

  Balthazar

  It is greater than God and more evil than the devil. The poor have it, the rich need it, and if you eat it, you’ll die. What is it?

  Nothing.

  Matilda is the sort of girl the sun is hoping to grow freckles on while it flirts with her eyes and dances with her hair. Today, as she wakes up in my arms on her twenty-third birthday with the sun seeking her through the window already, is one of those days.

  “Happy birthday, love.”

  She yawns while looking up at me. Then she rolls onto her side and presses her back against my chest. “Thanks. Wow. Twenty-three.”

  I grab a fistful of her hair and kiss her nape. “And more gorgeous by the day.”

  “Says my stud husband with morning wood poking at my backside.”

  I chuckle. “What? Flattery won’t get me fucked?”

  “Flattery will always get you fucked,” she says, gripping my cock.

  I take the invitation for all it’s worth. “Why do you always feel tighter in the morning?”

  “Maybe your erection is bigger…morning wood and all.”

  I reach around and cup her tits with my face alongside her neck, she smells like a perfect mix of her and summer.

  “Knees,” I say pulling out, flipping Matilda over.

  “Balthazar.” She moans as I drive into her.

  I grab her hips and pull her onto me with every thrust. “Christ…yeah.” I groan, as her wet grip on my cock makes me swell inside of her. “Not long for it, love.” Her mouth finds my fingers, and I slide one in and out of her lips. Her tongue does magic to my finger, somehow pushing my arousal up a notch.

  “Fuck, why is that so sexy?”

  “’Cause you’re picturing your cock.” She laughs lazily.

  “No, love, I’m good with where my cock is.”

  Thump, slam, bang. Hands. Little hands on the door.

  “Daddy…Mamama…?”

  Shit. They’re up early.

  “Hold on, guys!” I shout, hoping to hell that I can finish. “I’m close. You, love?” I whisper alongside her ear.

  “Uh, no. Those little cock-blockers are throwing me off my game. But go for it.”

  “I’ll make it up to you later.” I thrust hard. “Fuck…Matilda. Yeah…fuck. Oh, that’s it!”

  “Daddy, open dis door!” Hands pummel the door again.

  “I’ll get ’em,” Matilda says as I pull out after my release. She grabs her T-shirt from the floor, tosses it on, then shimmies into her knickers. She’s gorgeous, the way that perfect ass wiggles as she slides the lace up over her thighs.

  I flip the duvet onto my body then fist my cock, which is still coming down from its high. “Thanks, muffin.”

  Matilda unlocks the door and the twins charge in yelling, “Daaaddddyyyyyy!” They run to our bed and pounce on me. Matilda lies next to me as the boys cuddle my sides.

  Had I been told years ago that this would be my life, I’d have laughed. But everything about us makes sense—right down to the donkey in the kitchen, who’s just knocked three times on the door with his hoof, signaling that it’s time to get our day moving. Most people wake up to an alarm clock or a crowing rooster; we wake up to Aesop needing to go out. And Ruck yelling, “Knock, knock, knock!”

  It took us some solid drama to get to this point, which I’d like to call mostly settled. Our lives might seem crazy to folks who don’t know us, some might call us the modern-day version of Green Acres, but others might call us nuts and that’s what gave me the inspiration to put it on paper. Then I pitched it to an agent, who in turn pitched it to his wife, who happens to run one of the biggest movie production companies in Hollywood. Our story is just crazy enough to be flashed across the big screen according to them. I wonder who they’ll cast to play us.

  They assigned a script writer to work my thoughts into a movie. He came here for a month to hang out. To see our lives in action. To put my words and our country life into something filmable, something people would believe and realize was actually based on a true story. People love things inspired by true stories—especially when the stories are as quirky as ours.

  Quirky, as in my mom and Everit did get married at the edge of the Grand Canyon. In fact, they did so minutes after they’d both realized they were in the clear. The double-wedding day turned out to be a crystal-ball moment none of us could have predicted. Imogene, it ends up, was pregnant with twins when they got married. My mom, at forty-two, gave birth to girls eight months later. At nearly a year old, my sisters are really something to behold. I get to see them daily as Everit, Imogene, and the girls live here at the farm. They built a small cottage on the lake, close enough that we see them daily but far enough away that we all have our privacy.

  Quirky, as in my mom tracked my father down as a surprise for me. And another surprise came from our gathering. It just so happens that my birth father owns the newspaper in the town where I was orphaned and raised. The Christmas story I wrote that landed me in New York before I was twenty was chosen as the winner by him. He never knew that he’d awarded his son that incredible gift—the gift that led me to my current life and, amazingly, right back to him and my mom. Not to mention Matilda.

  Quirky, as in Imogene, Everit, and Matilda bought the local animal shelter that was closing, and now run it together, along with Tully and Duke. The three of them have raised a boatload of money to pump into it, along with using Matilda’s trust, which has allowed them to expand it and turn it into something they’re all proud to play a role in. Not that it’s stopped Matilda from dragging home stray critters every now and again. Our recent stray is an abandoned hen, which has me gathering eggs from our laundry room every morning, as that’s where she lays ’em. What with goats jumping onto the countertops as I make coffee and pigs snuggling up next to Boner as the kids color on the walls while Matilda’s horse, Hank, comes around the backside of the house to eat her roses and hang his head inside the Dutch door while she’s flipping pancakes…things really do feel complete. Crazy but complete. It’s our circus as Matilda says daily.

  Now about that riddle Matilda never did crack. The one Lavinia held over her head. Why do the stars shine from above? Matilda thinks the answer is to illuminate the heavens. She claims that Lavinia is there, holding court, while the stars continue to find her. We’ve both long since forgiven Lavinia. In fact, we raise a glass to her nightly, thanking her for having led us to each other. Forgiveness is a wonderful thing, regardless of how you discover it or when.

  Personally, I think the stars shine for Matilda. People say that heaven is
the be-all and end-all. To me, that’s her. She’s my heaven. Heaven because she takes what she wants from life then rolls it up in goodness and scatters it back out to the world, blanketing everyone she touches with her quirky joy.

  My mom told me recently she believes that everyone is born with a hole in their heart that’s waiting for that one person to come along and fill it up. Matilda always claimed that her superpower was invisibility. Invisibility? Ha! I’d say she’s as immense and visible as life, seeing as she’s filled mine. Not to mention that hole in my now-complete heart.

  ###

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you with all my heart for taking the time to read my book! If you enjoyed it, I’d be so grateful if you’d be willing to share it with a friend, and please consider reviewing it. I had no idea when I began writing how much reviews mattered. Indeed they do!

  Big ‘thank you’ kisses to my beta and ARC readers. I love you for embracing my work. Also to my editors, Mickey and Rahab, I’ve learned - and am learning - so much from you amazing ladies. Also to my family for their belief and support in my passion. Especially to my husband, John, who is my favorite person ever. I love you more than cake.

  Thank you also to all the wonderful bloggers, reviewers + awesome readers that share my books with the world. I’m beyond grateful.

  On pinterest (pinterest.com/awildingwells) you will see my inspiration board for this book. Check out my other social media if you’d like to follow our journey and be notified about upcoming books and cool giveaways.

  I had at one point considered saying this novel was based on a true story. In reality only bits and pieces of it are true, but it is indeed inspired by things in my life.

  Now the following is a random hodge-podge of thoughts (not professionally edited), so bear with me. Just pretend we’re sitting across from each other drinking champagne straight from the bottle like Matilda would be!

  I grew up on a gentleman’s farm in Wisconsin. It was the perfect place to grow one’s budding imagination. Just like Broken Arrow Farm, it was storybook-like with its long hickorynut tree-lined driveway and big ponds for fishing and skinny dipping, as long as you avoided the swans.

  There was a barn full of horses and peacocks and mama cats, ever hiding their kittens. A crow named Charlie lived in the barn office. An African gray parrot named Horatio (who inspired Ruck) lived in our house and said “hello pet shop” every time the phone rang. There was also a goat named Pepe that travelled with us everywhere we went (my inspiration for Aesop…as in Fables).

  My parents we’re cool about any animal we wanted to drag into the house, including an abandoned baby raccoon I found one night. It slept in my bed for a week.

  My husband and I bought a small farm in Wisconsin the first year of our marriage. He’s a sweet city boy who early on adapted rather well to my country living way of life. My birthday present that year was three pregnant ewes. That started me on a whole new level of critter collecting. I brought home goats and a baby donkey, ducks and geese, chickens, and a rooster named Clyde.

  I told my husband I never wanted jewelry or any sort gifts. With two exceptions, animals and trees. We adopted a horse that was going to be euthanized because it was lame. Months later he was galloping through our hilly pastures along with a flock of sheep and the other critters rather well. His name was Judgment Day, he came to us on Friday the 13th and lived a nice full and happy life on our farm for many years.

  We have four boys. The twins, Jinx and Jax, in my book were inspired by our twins. We now live on a ranch in California and our menagerie brings copious amounts of joy to our family. And yes, we do have two kunekune pigs as well as many sheep, an alpaca, goats, chickens, ducks and geese. And a Great Pyrenees that oversees and protects them from coyotes.

  Oh, and our ram did in fact ejaculate on me one day when I was petting his back. My husband and I have never laughed so hard. Who gets to say they got a ram off? Well, me, that’s who!

  We also have, from time to time, allowed the animals in our home. We had no screens on our doors until last year, so it was common to find chickens roosting in unused fireplaces and sheep watching cartoons with our boys.

  Our chicken coop is decorated. That includes a chandelier. Balthazar would not be thrilled.

  Our horse Blue would come to our dutch door in the morning and hang his head inside when we were making pancakes, and yes, he ate my roses, too. Just like Hank, Matilda’s horse.

  One of our hens came into the house every morning and laid one egg in our laundry room, clucking loudly to be let out when she was through.

  Now for Balthazar and Matilda. I was first inspired by my grandfather’s story: When he was a baby, he was left on the stoop of a local judge’s home, in a basket, just as Balthazar was left at the church. FYI, the judge and his wife did adopt my grandfather.

  There’s a lot of me in Matilda. All of her making things, sewing, crafting clothes, baking and cooking etc has been me since I was a kid. I also lived in Paris for a few years after high school. The pastries scene did in fact happened to me. And I have the klutzy thing in spades.

  I was walking down the stairs in a metro station focused on my box of five pastries when I tripped. And man, did they fly. I took a handful of people down, everyone screaming at me for the mess and chaos. I was the poster child for mortification. The Christmas scene where Matilda tripped was also me. I was putting on a sexy little number to surprise my husband when I tripped over our closet curtain. And he happened upon me on my back, all tangles in curtain and barely covering me bits of lingerie.

  Lastly, my great-grandmother was born on the fourth of July, and her middle name was Independence just like Matilda’s.

  Thank you again reading my book. I look forward to sharing more wonderful stories with you.

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  If you liked this book then please check out A Mess of Reason, my first book: http://www.amazon.com/Mess-Reason-Wilding-Wells-ebook/dp/B010VSDGUQ