Good Fences

by Boyd Craven III

  “How long?” she asked.

  How long could have been a lot of things, but I was pretty sure I knew what she was asking. How long since Cathy had died? How long did it hurt, and how long will you still remember them?

  “She died almost three years ago now.” I told her.

  “How long does it still hurt? Does it get better?”

  “Lucy, when it quits hurting, I’ll let you know.”

  I started to walk away because the dust was getting into my eyes again, making them water up. Spencer gave me a little wave as I got on the Kubota.

  “I’ll call you later on!” Lucy said and I had to smile at that. I nodded and waved back.

  * * *

  I told the other neighbors who’d come out to ask what I was doing and why. I gave the example of the Landry kid breaking his ankle as an excuse, and no one really questioned that. They all knew my beef with the Landrys, or had to have guessed it based on the complaints that had come from their side of the fence. I got the rest of the barbed wire up that day and, by the time I was done, it was Friday, last day of work again. I was tired and the office wasn’t busy. I didn’t have any quotes to do that day so I went on Wal-Mart’s website and looked up Augason Farms.

  I know I shouldn’t be dinking around on the internet while at work, but I was salary and never failed to put in long hours as needed. Come 3pm today I was out though. The boss didn’t seem to care, even came over and told me to look up Azure Standard if I was looking for bulk stuff. That got me double taking and I looked them up. From what I could tell, it was a lot like Country Life, but they had a HUGE catalog. The problem I found was they didn’t ship up by me, so I’d have to take a truck a few hours at a depot drop off. I bookmarked that for later and was about to pull my phone out and text Lucy when the boss came over again.

  “So, Brian, in your spare time, you’re a farmer, right?”

  He knew this, and it made me wonder why he was asking.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Do you ever read, oh, blogs or websites out there that have to do with natural disasters and stuff like that?”

  I was starting to get nervous. I normally don’t look at stuff at work, but I’d brought an Emergency Essentials catalog in a few times. I claimed I got it because of the camping sections, but the website is beprepared.com so there was no doubt it also was a prepper’s catalog. I just didn’t buy food from there much. That’s why I was looking at this other stuff, but I was suddenly worried that Mr. Chesil had caught on. It gave me an instant case of the nerves.

  “Sure, when you live in Michigan you have to be ready for snow, ice, power outages. Be prepared for about anything,” I winced inwardly for using the name of the website.

  Mr. Chesil smiled, “Hey, I know it’s slow here and I kind of put some things together the past year or two. No, no, don’t worry. I just thought you’d appreciate this, especially if you like guns.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s called armslist. It’s like craigslist, but for firearms. There’s a gun for sale I’m looking at, but I don’t know anything about it or if it’s a good deal?”

  We spent over an hour looking it over, and looking up the specs on it. He even invited me into his office and put the phone on speaker. He talked to the guy and then set up a time to stop out later on before he hung up.

  “I’m just getting started with the gun part of my preps. That gun was going to be a part of our group standardized equipment, but I’m not a hunter or shooter. My dad was a pacifist so I never learned them,” he admitted.

  “Group standard equipment? You’re in a group?” I asked him, more than a little surprised.

  “Yeah, three families. We’ve been working together to make sure we’re all ready. I sort of got recruited in a couple years ago. I’ve got the food preps down pat, at least a year’s worth for everyone, but what we’ve been lacking is firearms. My wife is all on board with prepping, but her parents were the same way mine.”

  I thought I was starting to see where he was going with this and why he was opening up. It shocked the hell out of me, I won’t lie, and to go from thinking the other day that maybe Randy was going a little over the top to then somebody I never would have expected turning out to be a prepper…

  “But what we don’t have is practical knowledge on what to do when the beans, bullets and band aids run out. Our group members all live in the city, and we’ve started small gardens in raised beds, but none of that would be enough for us to eat from when things get tough.”

  “Ok?” I said, knowing the hook was coming.

  “The group has been asking me for months now to approach you on this, and I’ve always thought you were probably a prepper, but you’re also somebody who can teach us a lot. I don’t know how you feel about things, but I’d love to hear your thoughts?”

  It was what I thought that they wanted, not that they wanted me in or to teach them. I’d thought he was going to ask me to use the farm to teach them guns.

  “I think the world is fast becoming a scary place. It’s suddenly open season on Christians across the globe. Our constitution doesn’t mean much anymore, and our money is in the toilet. I’m really scared of the Iran nuclear deal, and how suddenly our state is getting flooded with Middle Eastern immigrants that want to change our culture. I think it doesn’t hurt to be ready for anything,” I said, wondering if that’s what he really wanted to hear.

  Mr. Chesil smiled and patted me on the shoulder.

  “You know, Brian, when you came to work here, you looked half dead. I know you were still mourning your wife, but over the course of two years you’ve slowly healed. I don’t know if it’s your prepping giving you confidence or your faith, but you don’t look like you’re ready to stand on the edge of the cliff anymore.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, not even if I thought it, I couldn’t do that,” I stammered, a little startled because of how on target he was.

  I knew he was right, which only disarmed me further.

  “Are you looking for a group? A prepper group to train with, share knowledge and mutual support and aid?”

  I had already made the offer to Randy and Kristen. I paused to answer for a minute or two, putting a finger up so he knew I’d heard him and I was thinking about it. Where I lived wasn’t ideal, a farm in the middle of a big cluster of houses on the outskirts of a big city, but would a group be able to help in the mutual aid part? I was also shocked to find there were people who believed as I did, and part of me was lonely for company and friends. Randy was good people, and so was Kristen, but part of me had felt dead for so long that it sounded really appealing.

  “I might be, I’ve got two couples I talked to already, but I’d have to speak with them first to see.”

  “Wait, you have a group too?” Mr. Chesil asked, surprise.

  “Nothing organized like you do,” I chuckled, “one is a friend and fellow prepper, and the other isn’t really a prepper, just somebody I want to help if she ever needs it.”

  “She? You started to date again?”

  I felt uncomfortable because all of a sudden this didn’t feel like two guys talking, nor boss to worker, it felt like the strings of friendship and I wasn’t sure if it was what I expected at all. Surprise!

  “Well, the pastor’s cousin set us up on a date and we met for dinner a couple of times. She’s pretty awesome—“

  “That’s great!” Mr. Chesil boomed a little too loudly, making me wince.

  “But… We’re just friends. I found out though, she works at a gun store and knows more about guns than anybody I know,” I admitted, trying not to laugh.

  “You’re both single, she loves guns and you’re not marrying her immediately?” he joked.

  “No chemistry. Though I thought about trying to fake a relationship to get the friends off my back, but it wouldn’t work. I think she’s the first woman I can say I’d only ever have a platonic friendship with.”

  “Well I’ll be! I’ve never heard of one of those.
You tell me how that works out when the lights go dark!”

  “I’ll be sure to, Mr. Chesil,” I said, turning to put my hand on the doorknob to escape the conversation.

  “Listen, you can call me Frank, and hey…” he said pointing towards my desk was, “I don’t care so much you check things out at work, but you know…”

  “Don’t let it interfere with work when we have some?” I asked.

  “Yeah, you got it,” Frank said smiling.

  “You got it boss. Hey, it’s Friday, do you think…?”

  “Go ahead, we’re dead anyways.”

  * * *

  I was driving home when my cell phone rang. I hit the answer button, then the hands free.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey Brian, this is Lucy,” her voice sounded nervous on the speaker, “I was wondering if you were busy later on today?”

  “Naw, I’m done for the day. What can I help out with?” I asked, smiling.

  Our first conversation on the phone had lasted three hours and we’d both had a good cry. It was something I’d never admit to Randy or any of the guys, but it felt good. I’d held my emotions in check for so long that the actual release was a bit overwhelming. It hurt, but when I was done I felt like I’d laid part of my pent up grief to rest.

  “Actually, I was wondering if Spencer and I could stop out and bring you some dinner?”

  My heart dropped down into my stomach. Was I ready for this? The first day I met Lucy and Spencer while working on the fence I had felt something. At the time I hadn’t recognized it, and it took me a couple sleepless nights to realize that it was the stirrings of attraction. It took me several days longer to realize that it didn’t make me an asshole for feeling that way. I still loved Cathy, but I didn’t have to feel guilty about how I felt.

  “You know, that sounds good to me. What time are you thinking?” I asked, wondering if I had time to go the store or do a quick cleanup of the house. Other than Kristen and the ladies from Church who had nursed my spirit back from the land of the lost, no single woman had been inside of my parents’ homestead. Suddenly I worried about Spencer and if there were things close to the ground the little man could get himself into trouble with.

  “Oh, any time. I switched my days off so I have today and tomorrow to putter around the house. I made a mean pizza yesterday and want to see if I can repeat my success. Oh, and wait…”

  I heard mumblings of Spencer asking a question, something about goats and chickens.

  “Oh, and Spencer wants to know if he can pet the goats and see if you have chickens. He’s big into the farm stuff right now from watching his Baby Genius DVDs; it’s all he talks about.”

  “Sure,” I laughed, “How about 6 o’clock? I want to stop by the tractor store.”

  “Ok, sounds good! We’ll see you then.”

  I smiled, excited. I won’t lie and say I didn’t have butterflies in my stomach, because I did. I turned into the driveway of Family Farm and Home and I think my grin was so big everyone smiled back at me when I walked in. I knew I needed more wire to fence in the back part of the property like I had the side that stood against the subdivision.

  I put in an order for three big spools of wire, which meant my old Chevy was going to be sitting on the fenders if I wasn’t careful. I grinned and decided to let them load it and I’d go check the buck board / wanted ads. There was everything from house cleaning, to people selling rabbits, chickens, quail and farm equipment.

  That got my attention and, although I had my new Kubota and a ton of implements, it didn’t have the horsepower for what I really wanted to do with it. Again, I thought of Mr. Matthews old 70hp diesel, but I didn’t have implements to go with that and it would be a huge pain to buy everything all over again.

  “Mr. Cartwright, your truck’s all set,” said the same nervous kid from last time.

  “Thanks, I’ll probably be back for about 100 poles tomorrow,” I told him.

  “So that’s about two bundles if it’s like you got last time. You bringing a trailer?”

  Last time, I hadn’t gotten so many, but then again I hadn’t also bought a third roll of wire either, I’d come back for it.

  “Naw, I’ll probably come back, half tomorrow when you open, half when I run out of those.”

  “I’ll have them ready.”

  “Thanks Stan,” I said, spying the nametag on his vest.

  6

  I was on the tractor when I saw a dust cloud bloom on my driveway. I’d gotten the last pallet on the forks when a car I didn’t recognize pulled in. I waved and got a wave in return and spun the wheel and dropped the pallet in the barn. I turned the tractor around to drive towards the car to see it was who I’d thought. Lucy was holding Spencer in her arms and the little man was waving so hard I thought his arms were going to fall off. The other thing I noticed was the little black felt cowboy hat. I got a grin from that!

  I drove up to them and killed the ignition, figuring the kid would get a kick out of it and pocketed the keys, just in case.

  “Hey stranger,” Lucy wore a nervous smile.

  “Hi Brian!” Spencer said, then realized he’d spoken aloud, and hid his face in embarrassment like he had the day I’d met him a week ago.

  “Hey guys, you want to come on in?” I asked, beating the dust off my jeans and walking towards the house.

  “Sure, but I’ve got to get the supplies,” Lucy said, handing Spencer over to me.

  I almost panicked. I’d held kids before, but we’d only talked on the phone a couple of times and there she was handing me her pride and joy. Then I saw the look she was giving me and took him, swooping him from my knees up to my shoulders in a mock superman. Spencer shrieked in alarm and then laughter and put his arms around my neck as I held him. I shot Lucy a look and she was smiling.

  “Don’t do that too much, or you’ll be wearing his chicken nuggets from earlier,” Lucy admonished.

  “Yes ma’am,” I said and walked towards the front door.

  Handing me Spencer had been a test of sorts. I knew lots of guys wouldn’t even date a single mother, didn’t want to deal with another man’s kids. I may have joked about it, but I’d never had a chance to find out before, but I found it didn’t bother me. Spencer smelled like baby shampoo and something sweet or sticky.

  “Put your oven on for 400,” Lucy called out.

  “Oh, so who’s doing the cooking?” I asked Spencer who was looking at me with wide eyes.

  “Mommy is,” Spencer said as I sat him down on the couch.

  “Do you want to watch cartoons or something?” I asked him, fumbling for the remote and managing to put on the TV.

  “SpongeBob?” Spencer asked hopefully, in a voice that sounded a lot like he said “bob bob.”

  “Yeah, let me see if I can find that…”

  “Four then eight,” Spencer said solemnly.

  I had already hit the guide button, but I followed the kid’s instructions. Sure enough, that was Nickelodeon, and SpongeBob was on. I put it on and backed away, keeping an eye on him but going to the door to try to hold it open for Lucy who I promptly bumped into as she was walking in backwards with two rolled out pizza crusts and a bag of supplies.

  We almost lost dinner before we could have it, but I grabbed the doughy crust as it was sliding off and Lucy saved the second one.

  “Good catch,” I said.

  “Not bad yourself,” Lucy told me, putting the pans and crusts down on the table. “Did you do the oven?”

  “No ma’am. I was uh…” I looked towards the TV; some yellow sponge was making a “bwhahahahahahahahaha” sound, “making sure I could get the door by offering your son a distraction?” I said suddenly wondering if Lucy allowed her son TV.

  “Oh, he talked you into SpongeBob?” Lucy’s eyes sparkled and she was grinning.

  “He even knew what channel it was on,” I said somewhat defensively, holding my hands up.

  “It’s his favorite. Here, let me finish assembling the pizzas
and toss them in the oven. I’ll join you boys in a second,” she smiled and gave me a one-armed hug.

  It felt good having a woman so close. It felt right. Her smaller frame seemed to fit my tall lanky one perfectly; her head coming to just under my chest. I hesitated for a second then squeezed back, trying not to squish her but not wanting to be lame about our first physical contact. I suddenly realized how ridiculous that notion seemed and broke it off and headed to the couch. I sat next to Spencer who seemed entranced.

  “So, who’s the pink star guy?” I asked.

  Without turning, Spencer mumbled, “Patrick Star.”

  “Oh.”

  I heard the oven open and close and, in the time one episode finished, Lucy came over and joined us. She next to me, with Spencer at the other side. I never meant to set things up to be in the middle and didn’t know if that was appropriate or…

  My phone rang in my pocket and I hurriedly stood up to answer it. My ringtone was a joke, but it was a song I didn’t want Spencer to hear. It was the Riff by Lordi, a Swedish band and the song was about zombies. I loved it, but didn’t think there would kids around to hear it!

  “Hello?” I answered, recognizing Kristen’s number.

  “Hey, I just left a gun auction. I was buying a ton of ammo for somebody but they backed out on the deal. You interested?”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s 5.56, military version of the .223 stuff you bought last time. My cousin wants it gone, even if it’s at cost because some of it’s AP ammo. We don’t want that at the shop, but we had to buy a ton of stuff to get what we wanted and that came with it.”

  “AP? Armor Piercing?” I asked, “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “This stuff is old enough to be grandfathered. I’ve got like 1500 rounds. I can give you a better deal than the remanufactured ammo?”

  “Sure, sounds good!” I said, suddenly feeling like a man who’d won the lottery. I walked towards the kitchen where the smells of the pizza were making my mouth water. “When do you want me to come get it?” I asked.