Strong Loving

by Niobia Bryant

  What was a marriage without trust?

  But I don’t want to play the fool. Not again.

  Zaria lightly gnawed at her bottom lip with her teeth and anxiously twisted her hands as she fought to do what was right. She was not a naive girl of her twenties without reasoning. She was fifty. Fully grown. A mother who gave advice and wanted to be respected for the wisdom that comes with maturity.

  Snooping through her husband’s things was not the mature thing to do.

  Talk to him. Demand answers from him. Directly.

  “Shit,” she swore, slowly backing away from the door and avoiding even a glimpse in the direction of the vase before she turned and quickly strode down the hall and out into the living area.

  “Auntie Kaitlyn promised ice cream sundaes,” Kaliya was saying, looking adorable in her mint green sundress and glittery gold sandals with her soft hair up into a bushy topknot.

  “With sprinkles?” Kalel asked, equally handsome in dark blue Polo shirt and shorts.

  “With everything, Ka-Ka,” his twin advised, using her special nickname for him. “Ev-e-ry-thing!”

  He smiled, revealing his missing teeth.

  Kasi was playing Fortnite but glanced over at his younger siblings to smile at them before his game reclaimed his attention.

  Zaria looked at her children. Beautiful, smart, funny and loving. So close. So protective of each other. Things Kaleb had been sure to instill in them. Family over everything. She loved her life with him, their kids and their home. But every day more and more of it was fading. He was disappearing from the picture like a mirage. And her disappointment was becoming a constant.

  “I’m tired,” she whispered. “I love him but I’m tired, Lord.”

  The last ten months had been hell.

  “Momma!”

  Startled by a little hand tapping her buttock, Zaria jumped a bit before looking down at Kaliya standing beside her. “Yes, baby,” she said, blinking away her tears.

  “Is Daddy coming to the cookout?” she asked.

  Seeing the uncertainty in her daughter’s eyes really shook her. She looked up and there were two more sets of eyes on her, waiting for an answer. Game paused. Toy forgotten.

  Right then she knew that they had felt the shift as well. The loss of Kaleb being constant in their lives. In their home.

  “I’m sure he is, but I’ll call and make sure. Okay?” Zaria said.

  “Okay,” all three said, sounding hopeful.

  That hurt.

  Kaliya went skipping back over to her brothers.

  Clearing her throat, she picked up her phone and called him. It rang numerous times and went to voice mail. Her hand gripped the phone in annoyance. She walked over to the large tablet on the corner of the counter and pulled up the video surveillance of the farm. She had to swipe through several screens before she spotted his silver hair. He was in the west field digging a trench right along with his staff.

  Each move was relentless as he dug the dirt and then flung it over his broad shoulder with ease. Nonstop. Like the sun and blistering heat was fuel.

  He stopped and held up his hand to someone in the distance. He hollered something but there was no audio on that camera. Moments later water began to glide down the hill and into the trench that was divided into branches.

  There had been plenty of rain last week. Sometimes oversaturation could be just as detrimental as drought to the land. The cattle needed healthy grass to feed and keep up milk production. She assumed they were ensuring a collection of water was evenly dispersed over the land to prevent issues of flooding.

  She squinted when a small crew came down the hill into the frame and Greyson Locke was among them in a Stetson and knee-high rain boots with a shovel in hand and her digital camera around her neck on a leather strap. She came up to Kaleb and said something. They shared a laugh before he raised his hand for a high five that she quickly gave him.

  Zaria’s eyes locked on their gloved hands entwined together.

  “Have faith in me, Z. Don’t give up on me and don’t stop believing in me. I am not him.”

  But that thought was quickly followed up with a song lyric from the Main Ingredient.

  “Everybody plays the fool sometimes. There's no exception to the rule.”

  She closed her eyes and released a heavy breath.

  Her phone rang and she turned it over in her hand.

  Kaleb.

  She answered. “Hello,” she said.

  “You called? I was finishing up something and couldn’t grab my phone.”

  “The kids wanted to know if you were coming to the cookout,” she said as she eyed him now standing a few feet away from everyone.

  “Of course. I just need to finish up here. Y’all go ahead and I’m coming,” he said.

  “Like you did when I took the kids to the movies, or to Frankie’s Fun Park last weekend, or to the dinner we were supposed to go to last night?” she reminded him, her voice on edge.

  He frowned and held the phone away from his face before raising it like he wanted to throw it away in a fit.

  Annoyance. Anger. Aggravation. That’s what she saw. Directed at her.

  “Man don’t start, Zaria,” he said, his voice hard with a warning.

  She left the kitchen and entered the mudroom, closing the door behind her. “I never start it, Kaleb. Never. I’m always the one left holding the bag, with hurt feelings and disappointment as I clean up some lie you tell the kids about being there and then not showing up. I don’t start it but I damn sure clean it the fuck up,” she said, her voice rising.

  “It’s not like you’re busy doing something else. Right?” he said, his voice biting.

  Verbal gut punch.

  Zaria literally recoiled at his words and the animosity. “Funny, for me being the unemployed, unbusy, lazy bum you just implied I’m not the one with time to have a drinking problem. You damn lush.”

  It was on.

  She paced.

  “Now I have a drinking problem? I bust my ass all day every day, seven days a week to provide and at the end of those long-ass days I have a damn beer or two and now I’m a lush, Zaria?” he roared.

  “One or two or twelve. Every day,” she shot back, turning to ensure the children were unaware of her arguing with their father before returning to her pacing.

  “How’s the air up on that high horse, Queen of the World?”

  “Is that what this issue is? Huh? Is that why we’re falling apart because you lowkey have an issue with me? You don’t respect me? Do you dislike me? Is that why we sleep on separate ends of the bed and hardly see other? Huh?” she asked, feeling the fire blazing in her eyes and the pit of her belly.

  “Whatever, Zaria. You’re right and I’m wrong,” he said. “Whatever. Fuck it.”

  She set down on the bench and tilted her head back against the wall. The silence was filled with their resentment. “How did we get here, Kaleb?” she asked. “How in the hell did we get here?”

  The tears were inevitable and they fell freely. Silently.

  “And where is here, Zaria?” he finally asked, the anger gone from his tone.

  She pressed her phone to her ear wishing he was there to press kisses to her cheek and assure her that the end was not near. Unable to say the words and voice the fear clawing at her, she shook her head and ended the call. She released a tiny moan only hinting at the storm of emotions raging inside her before she dropped her phone and wiped the tears with her hands.

  “Oh, God, help me,” she whispered. “Please.”

  Never had she felt so out of sorts. She was shaken to her core. Truly she wanted nothing more than to climb in her bed and sleep to avoid it all. But for a mother that was not an option. Her kids relied on her.

  She walked over to the rinse sink in the corner and washed her face before patting it dry with one of the hand towels she kept neatly stacked on the shelf beside it.

  Back inside the kitchen, she looked at the tablet. Kaleb, Greyson and the staff
had left the area. She didn’t bother to check live streams from other cameras to check on his whereabouts on the property. Although she felt numb from yet another argument, she found the will to finish cleaning the kitchen, pack up the macaroni and cheese, grab the spoons Lisha requested, and make her way to the bedroom for a quick shower and a change into a floor-length sundress with spaghetti straps in a brilliant bright white.

  All the while taking note that her beautiful husband whom she loved never bothered to call her back.

  ∞

  The annual Strong family cookout was huge and all of Holtsville was expected to attend. String lights with large bulbs illuminated the front and back yards. This year they hired a live band that filled the air with soulful upbeat music that was vintage enough to make people scream out at the very first strains of it like “Celebration” by Kool & The Gang. Cars lined the road and filled the yard. Every window of the Strong’s impressive two-story home was lit up. Wooden picnic tables branded with the Strong Ranch logo were too numerous to count.

  In the backyard, there was a mini-carnival with the joyful yells of the children echoing from inside the jump castle they relished. People were everywhere enjoying the music on the outdoor dance floor beneath rows upon rows of colorful paper lanterns. Fully stocked outdoor bars with bartenders served drinks in two areas of the yards.

  The food was plentiful. Lisha Strong made sure of that. Beef and pork ribs cooked with a spicy-sweet glaze that was sticky on the fingers. Whole hams and chickens. Thick and juicy steaks. Sausages that were good by themselves or tucked into buns toasted with garlic butter. Seafood boil poured atop plastic tablecloth covered tables ready for the crowds to dig in and feast. And every Strong woman came with their own signature side dish: corn on the cob, Coleslaw, and all desserts from Lisha; deviled eggs—some with lump crab meat—and seafood rice from Kaitlyn; twice-fried plantains or tostones from Garcelle; Zaria’s baked macaroni and cheese with four cheeses; Jade’s potato salad and baked beans; Bianca’s spicy jambalaya packed with sausage and seafood; and Kadina and Lei were tackling fresh fruits in a homemade mint-flavored syrup.

  There were more than two hundred people in attendance, the vibe was good, and all of it was beneath the most beautiful star-filled Carolina sky.

  And in the words of Kool & The Gang, there definitely was a party going on right there. A celebration to last through the years.

  Kael Strong observed it all from where he stood on the front porch of his home sipping on a lite beer.

  Ranching was the Strong family business. Whether Kael and Kade’s Strong Ranch, Kahron’s Circle S, or Kaleb’s KS Dairy Farm, the family was all about putting in the hard work and dedication to not just farm but excel at it. With each ending of the fiscal year, they always celebrated the victory of not being one of the numerous farmers they knew whose business folded. Ranching was no easy feat. The sweat equity was huge and at times the payout wasn’t as comparable—most times from issues out of their control. Even the weather could mean a disaster. This year had been one of the toughest ever, but they made it through and that was reason enough to celebrate.

  He frowned a bit as his eyes landed on Kaleb on one end of the dance floor and then Zaria on the other. The looks they were sharing were anything by loving. It wasn’t even hostile. It was beyond that. It was cold.

  What the hell is that about?

  “There you are.”

  He looked at his wife of forty years walk up to him looking prettier than the day he fell for her in a soft peach sundress and wedge heels. His smile was instant as he eyed her climb the stairs and come to him. He promptly reached to slide his hand around her waist and pull her close to his side. Right where she belonged.

  They had come together. Raised a family and grew a business together. And were going to spend the rest of their days the same way. Together.

  “I sure love me some Alisha Rockman-Strong,” he said, slapping her buttocks before pressing a kiss to the top of her silver-streaked hair.

  “Some?” she asked with her eyes filled with flirt.

  “All. Every bit of it,” Kael stressed.

  “And all of it is yours, baby,” she assured him as she rubbed his slightly rounded belly.

  Kael bent to press his mouth near her ear. “Hell, let’s go upstairs and let me get it all right now,” he said, his voice deep and meaning it.

  She lifted up on her toes to taste his mouth. “Dessert later, Kael Strong,” she whispered against his lips. “We have our family here and plenty of company. A yard full.”

  He grunted.

  “Besides I want to know what is going on with Kaleb and Zaria,” she said with the eagle eyes of a concerned mother landing on their son.

  “You noticed that, too, huh?” Kael asked.

  “They’ve been off lately and something is going on with Kaleb.”

  Kael nodded. “It's more than an argument. Hell, we’ve had plenty of those over the years. This is...different.”

  “Absolutely,” Lisha agreed.

  Trouble was brewing.

  “And who’s that with him?” Lisha asked.

  Bad move, son. Bad move.

  “He said a reporter following him for an in-depth article on dairy farming,” Kael said, offering to her the info that was given to him.

  “Ain’t no farming going on tonight,” Lisha quipped, making a face.

  “I know, baby,” he said.

  “Humph.”

  He watched as his son walked the woman over to the tables splayed with food. His eyes searched for his daughter-in-law—whom he loved—and he shook his head to see her eyes locked on her husband and the young reporter.

  “Look at Zaria,” he said.

  Lisha did. He felt her body tense. “Uh oh,” she said low in her throat.

  Kael had lived far too many years not to recognize the sight of pure hell brewing.

  “What is going here, Kael Strong?” Lisha asked with a strong tone filled with a reprimand. “Huh, what is your son up to?”

  It caught him off guard that some of his wife’s admonishment was directed at him.

  “Alisha—”

  She raised her hand and it slashed the air. “I didn’t raise my sons—none of them—to be disrespectful in their marriage in any way and you damn sure—”

  “You’re cussing, baby,” he pointed out.

  She whirled to glare up at him. “What?” she snapped.

  “Nothin’,” he said, not wanting to ruin the frolicking his wife promised him later that night.

  “And you damn sure didn’t set that example for them in our home,” she continued.

  “Lisha, let’s be fair. You’re accusing our son and questioning his character without proof or any indication of it being a fact,” Kael explained.

  “The fact is Zaria is a good woman who has been good to our son and that look ain’t on her face for nothing. Now that’s a fact, Kael Strong,” she said with her finger pointed in the air and her head tilted to the side.

  Truth. They had no proof of what the tension between Kaleb and Zaria was about or if the pretty little journalist played a role, but something in the milk wasn’t clean. On that, they could agree.

  ∞

  Kaleb looked over the heads of the crowd at the bar in the front yard. He literally thirsted for a beer. Or a shot of tequila. Or a snifter of vodka.

  You damn lush.

  Remembering the words of his wife he nursed his cup of sweet tea instead.

  Zaria was not wrong. He was drinking more. Far more than ever.

  His eyes searched the throng of people looking for her. She had moved from her spot by the rest of the sisters-in-law on the dance floor. Since he arrived, they hadn’t been more than ten feet within each other, but he hadn’t kept his eyes off her.

  He was angry at her but only a fool would deny how good she looked in that white dress. She stood out in the crowd. When she passed a large barrel fan, or the wind blew hard enough, the dress framed her body and flowed behind her. A
crazy mix of being angelic in color and devilish in design.

  And he didn’t miss the covert looks of other men upon her.

  Still, he was upset with her.

  Life was good for her and the kids. Whether they asked outright or he just noticed something they lacked he made it happen. He wanted it that way, but he also wanted acknowledgment and respect for the hard work he put in to provide for them. His sacrifices were great. He wanted appreciation and not complaints. In farming, perhaps more than most business industries, time was money.

  And sometimes it still didn’t equate.

  “Your wife is in the kitchen and the other one is watching the kids on the jump castle.”

  Kaleb turned to find four Strong women behind him. He eyed each. His sister Kaitlyn and his three sisters-in-law, Bianca, Garcelle, and Jade. “The other one?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I’ll start because its hot and your niece or nephew is laying on my bladder,” Kaitlyn began, looking every bit as aggravated as she sounded. “Big bro, you have to know how this looks. This is Holtville, home of gossip spreading quicker than butter on a hot tin roof.”

  Kaleb frowned.

  “You arrive with a cutie with a fat bootie and then you and Zaria are avoiding each other, shooting glares across the yard—”

  “Wait a minute,” he balked, feeling his ire rise. “She’s not with me she’s a—”

  “A journalist doing an article,” all four women chorused with eye rolls.

  His eyes widened. “She’s shadowing me for the article and when I told her about the cookout she asked if she could write about it,” he explained, splaying one hand as he motioned in their direction.

  “She’s a woman enjoying the company of a good-looking man, big brother,” Kaitlyn said. “And you’re going to be a man missing the company of his wife.”

  “Greyson? And me? She doesn’t want me,” Kaleb refuted with a dismissive slash of his hand through the air.

  Garcelle, still every bit of a Beyoncé doppelganger, threw her hands up in the air and released a swift string of Spanish words that clearly contained some profanity.

  “Right,” Bianca said as if she could understand her. “You know I’m tired of you Strong men walking around looking like you’re looking and playing like you don’t how you’re looking. Kahron does this oblivious BS all the time, too. Like he doesn’t know. But y’all know. Y’all better know.”