After the table was set and everyone had found a place, Milton grabbed her hand and she slid hers into Dane’s.
“Everyone needs to hold hands so we can bless this meal.” Milton took Rachel’s hand, and she took Angie’s. Romero grabbed Angie’s other hand and then Dane’s free hand.
Uncle Milton bowed his head. “Dear Lord, thank you for bringing new friends into our lives. Please bless Rachel and Angie and their life together. Bless Romero and his really fancy boots. Bless Susie and her smart mouth. Let her see that she must respect her elders. Finally, bless Dane with some special, useful skill that will get him into Miltonville. In Jesus name we pray, amen.”
Everyone murmured, “Amen.”
Rachel let go of Milton’s hand. “Tell me more about Miltonville. I want to know everything.”
“After dinner, I’ll get the map I made out of my truck … um … I mean, off the tractor I rode over here, because I ain’t no longer driving my truck.” He wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone.
Susie threw down her napkin. “That’s it, I’m blowing up the engine.” This had to stop. He could hurt himself.
“Milton’s not supposed to drive anymore,” Dane said to the room at large.
“That’s not strictly true.” Milton pointed to Dane. “I’m not supposed to drive my truck anymore.” He turned to Susie. “Don’t blow up Lucretia. She’s never done anything to you.” He sighed like he was shouldering a particularly heavy burden. “I promise not to drive on roads anymore. Just the ranch. Happy?”
Susie snorted. She’d heard that one before.
* * *
Chapter 14
* * *
“Right here’s the town square with the statue of me in the center.” Milton pointed to the center of an old map. It looked like it might be a map of the ranch, but Dane wasn’t so good with maps. He only ever used satellite navigation, and that probably wouldn’t be around in the zombie apocalypse.
The dinner dishes were washing away in the dishwasher, and everyone sat around the kitchen table looking at the plan of Miltonville.
“There’s a statue of you?” Susie rolled her eyes. “Of course there is.”
“What? It’s Miltonville.” Milton put his hand over his heart. “I just single-handedly saved the human race from dying out. Miltonville is all that’s left of civilization, and the only thing keeping out the zombies is this fence that I designed. That statue of me is going to be huge.”
“Anyone, feel free to point out that zombies aren’t real and The Walking Dead isn’t a documentary.” Susie threw up her hands.
“What do I need to do to make it into Miltonville?” Romero leaned forward, studying the map.
“I’ve got it all worked out. On account of you being so good with clothes and stuff, you’re going to be in charge of designing the military uniforms. We’re going to have an army, marines, air force, and navy, just like the United States.” Milton was completely serious, and it said something that everyone except Susie hung on to his every word.
“I hate to point this out, but where is the navy going to park its aircraft carriers? I think the stock tank is too small.” Susie just shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re spending so much time on this.”
Milton didn’t even glance her way. “Miltonville is just phase one. As our military pushes them zombies back, we’re going to increase our territory until we take over North America.”
Dane mashed his lips together to keep from smiling.
“So Miltonville’s going to encompass all of North America?” Susie laid her head on the table. “I give up.”
Milton looked at his great-niece like she’d lost her mind. “Don’t be silly. Miltonville will be the capital city, and North America will be called Miltopia.”
Susie turned to Dane. “I don’t know about you, but I think we need a different subject. Everyone seems to have forgotten that we’re celebrating Rachel and Angie’s engagement. I think that calls for a little dress up.” She caught Milton’s eye and his whole body smiled.
“I think that’s exactly what we need.” Milton nodded toward a closed door right off the front hall. He practically vibrated with excitement. “Y’all are going to love it.”
Susie stood, pushing her chair back from the table. “Before I take ya’ll to the wedding closet, I should explain that I’m the only female born on my father’s side in many generations. Milton’s grandfather was the youngest of four boys. His brothers had sons, and their sons had sons, and so on. Because every generation was convinced that they would finally have a daughter, all of the family wedding dresses came to me. Same thing on my mother’s side. She was the first female born since World War I.” She hobbled over to the door and opened it. She flipped on the light in the room and then opened the closet door. “My grandmother told me that when this house was built, they built this cedar-lined closet just for the wedding dresses in the hopes that someday, someone would finally have a girl and she would want to wear one of them.”
Dane wondered which one Susie would choose when she got married. And he wondered, when she did walk down the aisle, would he be at the end of it?
“Did you ever play dress up with these dresses?” He was interested to see which ones she favored.
Susie smiled to herself. “All the time.”
He waited for details, but she didn’t elaborate.
“Oh my God, these gowns are practically a time machine.” Romero clapped as he walked into the enormous closet.
Angie smiled from ear to ear. She pulled one down at random and held it up to her. “This is beautiful.”
“Would you like to try it on? I think that would be wonderful.” Susie hobbled to the door. “Why don’t you and Rachel give us a fashion show? Try on whatever you like.”
“That sounds like fun.” Milton nodded toward the living room. “We’ll be in there.”
“As your stylist, I feel that I need to stick around and help you put the outfits together.” Romero was more excited than the brides-to-be.
Dane followed Susie and her uncle out and closed the door after them.
He helped Susie get comfortable on the sofa and then snuggled in beside her. “Thanks again for making this special. The wedding dresses are the finishing touch on an evening that’s been pretty amazing.”
How had she managed to throw a mini engagement party for two people she’d only met two hours ago? It didn’t seem possible that he’d only known Susie for less than two days.
“What?” She grinned. “You keep staring at me and smiling.”
“How are you so great?” He hadn’t meant to sound like a lovestruck fool. Adrenaline crashed through his system. When had he gone from falling in love with Susie to being in love with Susie? It was crazy. He didn’t believe in love at first sight—hell, he didn’t really believe in love—but here he was in love.
“You don’t look well.” She leaned over and placed the back of her palm to his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”
Was it too soon to tell her that he was in love with her? It felt a little soon. How long should he wait? She was right. He was beginning to feel a little nauseated.
“I’m fine.” He’d never associated love with nausea before, but he did now. His back pocket buzzed and he pulled his phone out. He didn’t recognize the number, but his mind was so fuddled that he answered it anyway. “Hello.”
“I haven’t heard from my baby boy in so long.” It was his mother, and based on the fact that she was slurring her words, she was back on oxy or she had finally gone back to her first love, heroin. Leave it to her to ruin such a perfect evening.
He hit mute and rolled off the sofa. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”
He went to the front porch for a little privacy. He sat on the porch steps.
“What do you want, Kitty?” He’d stopped calling her Mom at the age of nine, when her hand had been too shaky to fill the syringe and she’d begged him to do it for her. He knew it had been the drugs talking, but at s
ome point she’d become the drugs, or the drugs had become her. They were one and the same.
“My son is so famous … I need …” She wasn’t making sense.
Long ago he’d stopped feeling pity, or anything, for her. When he had been a kid, there had been nothing he’d wanted more than to spend time with her, but now, there was too much dirty water under that bridge. He wanted to go back in time and hug that little boy who’d had to call 911 after she’d OD’d and stopped breathing. No child should ever have to go through that.
“Is that your famous son, bitch?” It was a man’s voice, and it was muffled, but he was angry. “Give me the phone before you pass out.” There was a loud slap.
He heard his mother cry out. “Tony, that hurt. I’m bleeding.”
There was some shuffling and then the man came on the line. “Is this Dane fucking Bennett?
“Yes, what do you want, Tony?” He purposefully used the man’s first name as a show of strength. Drug dealers preyed on weakness.
“Well, that’s a good question. What will you give me for not killing your mother?” The man laughed like he was holding all of the cards, but Dane had been through this so many times he’d lost count.
“How much money do you want?” He wanted to hang up on the man, but there was something of that innocent, hopeful boy left in him. He couldn’t completely turn his back on his mother.
“She only owes me another twenty thousand. Pay me that and you can have her back.” The man sounded like he thought he was about to hit an easy payday.
“You’ll get your money, but not until I have proof that she’s alive, and only then will I have my attorney make the arrangements.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Take a picture of her right now and text it to me.”
His phone buzzed with a text. He glanced at the screen. His mother smiled back at him with blood running down her face. Her two front teeth were missing. This was the story of his life. He’d always had to be the adult, even as a child.
“Did you get it?” The man was very eager for his easy money.
“Yes. I’ll have my attorney call you back with the arrangements.” Dane hung up.
Part of him wanted to never hear from his mother again, but there was that small part that still craved the loving relationship he’d never had.
“Want to talk about it?” Susie stood in the open doorway.
He opened his mouth to say no, but instead he said, “It was my mother. She needs money again.”
Susie used her crutches to make her way to him. She sat down beside him on the top step. “Was it her dealer or her pimp calling?”
Every muscle in Dane’s body tensed. Had she been eavesdropping? “Why?”
Susie took a deep, calming breath in through her nose and blew out through her mouth.
“I lied earlier. I wasn’t the first female child born into the Sweet family. My older sister Mary was. She was eleven years older than me, and I thought she was the coolest person in the world. She was smart and funny and resourceful and always the life of the party.” She took another deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think it started with alcohol. I don’t really remember. I was too young, but in the end, she loved her some opiates. Hydrocodone, oxy—as long as it was some form of opiate, she would do anything for it.”
He put his arm around her and pulled her in close.
“I was in middle school the first time we got the call for money in the middle of the night—at least, it was the first time I knew about. It was her dealer. She owed him money.” Susie shook her head. “My parents paid him off and drove Mary to her very first stay in rehab. It lasted almost a month. When she got out, she went through the whole routine of making amends. She apologized to everyone she’d hurt.” Susie laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m sure you know the process as well as I do.”
“Yes, I do.” He knew others had been through the same experience as him, but he would never have guessed Susie had. “The rehab works, for a while.”
“I don’t know about your mother, but for my sister, I found that as the years went by, the time it took her to relapse after rehab became shorter and shorter, until one day, we just stopped believing she was fixable. I don’t think it was a conscious decision, and I don’t think we gave up on her, but at some point, you have to face the fact that nothing you do will change them.” Susie stared out into the night. “I spent years reading everything I could on addiction. I was determined to find a way to understand what she was going through. She liked painkillers, so what physical or psychological pain did she have? Know what I learned?”
“What?” He wanted to hear what she had to say, but even more, he sensed that she needed to talk about it.
“Absolutely nothing. My sister didn’t have some terrible trauma. She wasn’t abused or molested. She didn’t have some sort of physical injury that made her life unbearable. She was an addict. She liked the way the drugs made her feel, and she didn’t care what collateral damage she caused to get what she wanted.” She shook her head. “I know there’s a genetic component, but since we have the same genetics, I should have that addiction too. Maybe I do, but I don’t understand addiction. I don’t understand wanting something so badly that you would hurt everyone you love to get it. I don’t understand why some people like to be numb to their feelings and the world around them.”
He could hear the pain in her voice. “When did she die?”
“Five years ago, she OD’d. My parents had kicked her out for good. She was living with some man out of his car. It took almost a week before the police figured out who she was and notified us. I think that’s the real reason my parents moved away. They couldn’t face it here any longer.” She wiped away a tear. “I used to mourn the loss of all of her potential, but one day I realized that all of that potential disappeared the day she took her first drink.”
He took a couple of deep breaths of his own and jumped in with both feet. “I never got to be a child. I was always the one who made sure the bills were paid and that we had food to eat.” He rested his chin on top of her head. “At the age of nine, I drove myself to my own audition. She was passed out in the back seat. At least she was never a mean drunk.” Why did he always do his best to paint his mother in the best light? As if not being a mean drunk somehow made it okay. “Intellectually, I know I should just let her go, just turn my back and walk away for good … but I can’t.”
“Because you remember the few good times, and deep down, you hope that one day she’ll finally be cured and you can go back to being that happy family.” There was so much pain, and so much understanding, in those words.
“I don’t …” Did he want his mother back? The clean version? “I guess deep down I do. It’s been so long since I’ve done anything but clean up her messes that I haven’t taken the time to think about it.”
“Hope seems to be the one thing that all families of addicts have more of than the rest of the world. Even when it feels like you’ve lost all hope, there’s still some way back in the back of your heart underneath all of the hurt they’ve caused.” She took his hand and brought it to her lips and kissed the back of it. “I just wanted you to know that I understand. If you want to talk about it, I’m here. If you don’t, I’m also here.”
“Thank you.” He didn’t know if he wanted to talk about his mother, but it was good to know that Susie truly understood.
“I don’t know why, but it feels good to get that off of my chest. Not that I was hiding it, but I just don’t talk about it. My triathlon team doesn’t even know about Mary. It’s too painful to bring up, and I can’t stand the pity. It’s nice to talk about her with someone who gets it.” She laughed. “Okay, this is funny, but it’s not really funny. When my sister relapsed the first time, I was frustrated and angry. Uncle Milton showed me a way to relieve some of that frustration.”
“Knowing him, it was something off-the-wall.” He couldn’t wait to find out.
“You’ve only known him for a short time, yet you understa
nd him so well.” She smiled and wiped away her tears with the backs of her hands. “He took me to the gun range. We did some intense target shooting. Focusing on hitting the target gave me a way to channel all of the frustration I had over feeling powerless against the situation.” She held up a hand. “I’m not saying it’s for everyone, but you might want to try it. Plus, it’s just fun.”
“I think I’d like to.” It actually sounded kind of interesting. “You know, it might help me with my current role. I’m supposed to be a farmer who regularly hunts for his dinner.”
“What’s the name of the movie you’re working on?” She relaxed into him. He could feel the weight of the heavy subject had been lifted off of her.
“Allergic to Love. You know, like the book. Well, that’s the working title. I’m lobbying for a name change.” It was funny. Most people only wanted to talk about his work, and this was the first time she’d really asked about it.
“Oh.” She sounded underwhelmed. “Great.”
“I take it you weren’t a fan of the book?” His shoulders shook with laughter. “Neither am I.” Neither was anyone with half a brain.
“I like romance novels, I really do, but that was a stupid book. An IRS agent who’s allergic to peanuts comes to take possession of a family peanut farm and falls for the sexy farmer? Okay, so that’s stupid enough, but whatever. So, when she kisses him and goes into anaphylactic shock, that’s plausible, but how does she end up in a coma? For several months? And then wakes up with no memory of who she is or even how to walk, but she knows that she’s in love with this farmer whose name she can’t remember? But my most favorite part is when he takes her home to the farm and teaches her how to walk again by propping her up between bales of hay.” She dropped her head into her hands. “Dumbest book ever.”
“Rachel calls the book a turd. Just so you know, I’m aiming to make the movie better than the book.” He stood and offered her a hand up.
She took his arm and hopped to her feet. “That shouldn’t be hard.” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, that was bad. I didn’t mean to imply that your job is easy. It looks hard to me.”
Sweet Susie Sweet Page 12
