The Game of Denial

by Brenda Adcock

  Joan closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat. The years had flown by faster than she would have believed possible. By working virtually non-stop she had been able to dull her grief and loneliness, but never able to erase it completely. She missed the time she and Martine spent alone, often doing nothing more than sharing a light meal and pleasant conversation. There had been something stable about their life together. Joan never ceased being amazed at how easily Martine, a beautiful, sophisticated, thoroughly European woman, gave up that life to become a wife and mother who worked hard every day to provide a comfortable and peaceful refuge for Joan and their children.

  Martine loved children and would have liked to have had a dozen more crawling around, getting into everything. "Children keep you young," Martine said. To Joan, especially after her wife died, they only kept you exhausted with their constant demands. Theirs had been a perfect relationship in so many ways. Joan was willing to work and provide the lifestyle they all enjoyed and Martine reveled in her work as a homemaker and lover. When they first met, Joan could never have envisioned such a relationship. Martine gave up everything to be with her and Joan couldn't have loved her more. Despite four children under foot, Martine still managed to find time for just the two of them. Intimate, passionate time to enjoy one another.

  Then Martine was gone.

  It took Joan a long time to come to grips with her grief and even though the feeling of sadness still swept through her unexpectedly from time to time, she thought she had taken control of her life again fairly well, even if she sometimes came across as cold and stand-offish. Now that she was jetting off to spend ten glorious days in the company of what she was sure was a frumpy farm frau who would soon be her in-law, she would have to concentrate of putting forward a friendly demeanor.

  "MOTHER," CHARMAINE'S VOICE said, pulling Joan away from Martine once again. "We're approaching the airport. Time to buckle up and suck it up."

  Joan nodded and watched the trees below grow larger. The landing gear snapped into place and the jet banked to the left. Joan caught a glimpse of the runway before the jet leveled out and dropped lower. The pilot drifted to the tarmac and set the aircraft down softly. A few minutes later they taxied toward a small, single story terminal building and stopped.

  "Showtime!" Charmaine announced as everyone unbuckled and stood, stretching the kinks out and picking up small personal items. Joan slipped her jacket over her shoulders and knelt down to help Mitchell and Morgana pick up the last of their LEGOs. As the children left to catch up with their parents, Joan made her way to the cockpit. She tapped on the door and smiled when Karina Ochoa opened the door dressed in her captain's uniform.

  "A very smooth flight, Karina," Joan said. "As always."

  "Thank you, Ms. Carmichael," Karina replied with a smile.

  "Wednesday morning, please fly to Omaha to pick up my mother and brother. Then take some paid time off. After spending time with them, you'll probably need it. I'll contact you a day or two before we're ready to return to New York so you can make the necessary plans to pick us up."

  "Please give Fran my best wishes," Karina said. "I know she'll be very happy."

  "Hmm. I hope so," Joan said as she turned to leave. Checking everything in the cabin one last time, she picked up her briefcase and walked to the folding steps at the jet door. She slid her sunglasses on and glanced around. A smile lit up her face when she saw Francesca walking toward her at a leisurely gait that reminded her of Martine.

  Joan set the briefcase down in time to sweep her daughter into her arms and hug her fiercely. "God, you're beautiful, Frannie. You remind me more of your mother every time I see you," she said as she held her at arm's length.

  "I'll never be as beautiful as Mama, Mom," Fran said. "But thank you." The two women hugged briefly once again before resting arms around one another's waist and strolling toward the terminal.

  "Tuck is seeing to the luggage," Fran said.

  "It'll take a caravan to haul all this crap. Are you sure it wouldn't be easier to just rent a floor at a local hotel?"

  Fran laughed. "It's a big house, Mom. But I can tell you Brad's mother is a little nervous about the invasion of the Carmichael clan."

  "I can't imagine why," Joan smirked. "Mitchell and Morgana are the only normal ones in the bunch. Have you warned her about Meme yet?"

  "I don't think there's any way to fully prepare someone for Meme." Fran stopped and leaned closer to Joan. "I did reserve a suite of rooms for Meme and Uncle Ron at the local hotel though."

  "You always were our smartest child. I've missed you so much." Joan leaned over and kissed her temple.

  "I've missed you too, Mom," Fran said.

  Chapter Three

  EVELYN CHASE PACED nervously in her living room and checked her appearance in the hall mirror for the fifth or sixth time. She was wearing her best slacks and a new white, long-sleeve Oxford shirt. The logo for Meadowbrook Farms was brightly embroidered on the upper left portion of the shirt. Her favorite polished loafers completed her outfit.

  "Will you give it a rest, Mom," her daughter, Elizabeth, said. "You look fine. I'm just guessing here, but I bet they all put their panties on one leg at a time just like you do."

  Evelyn glanced at her daughter. "And I'm just guessing the price of those panties is triple anything I own."

  "God, Mom! When did you become so class conscious? The chances are pretty good you'll never even see their panties."

  "I'm not planning to, but I want to make a good impression on Fran's family. I'll probably never see them again, but still..."

  The front door opened and Ralph Tannenbaum, the farm manager, stepped quickly into the entryway. He grabbed the baseball cap from his head. "We need you in the barn, Miss Evey. Sheba's down."

  "Call Doc Grainger," Evelyn yelled over her shoulder as she pushed past Ralph and ran down the front porch steps. Her mind was on nothing other than the welfare of her pregnant mare. She ran into the area, grabbed the gate to Sheba's stall and shoved it open. Sheba was lying on her side and her breathing was slightly labored. She pulled a blanket from the railing and draped it over her. "You'll be fine, Sheba," Evelyn whispered softly while stroking the mare's neck. "Doc'll be here soon."

  BRAD CHASE BROUGHT the Suburban to a stop on the drive next to his family's two-story farm house. He reached over, squeezed Fran's thigh, and winked. "The moment of truth is upon us," he whispered as he opened the door. Fran slid out the door behind him. Joan opened the front passenger door and was grateful to finally be able to stretch her long legs. She looked around at the immaculately mown and trimmed front lawn before walking to the rear of the vehicle.

  "It's a beautiful farm, Brad," she said.

  "It's a handful most of the time, but worth it," her future sonin-law said. "Mom! Beth!"

  Beth stepped from the side door of the house. "Mom's in the barn with Doc Grainger and Ralph. Sheba went down about an hour ago."

  "She all right?"

  "I hope so. It's too early for her to foal."

  "Beth, this is Fran's mother, Ms. Carmichael." He glanced back at the other passengers and pointed as he spoke. "That's her older sister, Charmaine, and her youngest sister, Meg."

  "Wow, what a fine looking group. Where's your brother?" Beth asked Fran as she approached the group.

  "Tuck rented a car. They'll be here in a little bit," Fran said.

  "Mom's scared to death about finally meeting your family," Joan heard Beth whisper to Fran.

  "I told her she doesn't have to impress anyone," Fran said with a frown.

  Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of tires spinning on the gravel road leading to the main house. A black 1958 Chevy short bed truck with red, orange and yellow flames painted over the hood and down the sides fishtailed around the final curve before the house. When the truck slid to a stop it threw up a small cloud of dust. The driver's door popped open and a young man with collar-length curly black hair beneath a faded yellow baseball cap dropped from the
running board. He was wearing a dusty black t-shirt and smudged light blue jeans over black work boots.

  Joan observed the young man as he swaggered toward them.

  He smiled when he saw Brad and Fran and strode over to them. "Need some help, big bro?"

  "Yeah. Grab a couple of these suitcases so everyone can get settled," Brad said. "Then attach the road rake to the bumper of your truck and level the gravel again."

  "Bitch, bitch, bitch," the young man muttered. He squinted slightly and looked over the newly arrived houseguests. He stopped when he saw Meg and grinned as his eyes scanned her body. He wiped his hands on his jeans and strolled toward her, sticking his hand out. "Tully Chase."

  "Megan Carmichael," she said as she lightly touched his hand before going back to changing the selection on her iPod.

  "How about I give you a personal tour after you get settled?" he asked. He leaned closer, a gesture not unnoticed by Joan who had already seen him ogle Meg. "A very personal tour."

  "I'll let you know," Meg said.

  Tully frowned and returned to the back of the Suburban.

  Joan walked casually toward Meg and placed an arm around her shoulders. "Everything all right?" she asked.

  "No sweat, Mom," Meg said, placing her earbuds in her ears.

  Joan looked toward the barn and watched a woman and two men walk out of the dark interior. The woman, whom she assumed was Brad's mother, leaned against the fence enclosing one side of the barn and rested her hands on her knees. She turned her head and squinted up as one of the men spoke. She nodded as one of the men patted her on the back before walking to a truck and climbing in. After standing and waving at the departing vehicle, she said something to the second man before slowly making her way up the small rise toward the main house.

  "Please be nice when Brad's mom gets here," Fran said when she joined Joan and Meg.

  "I'm almost always nice, Fran. Don't confuse me with your grandmother," Joan said. She tilted her head toward Tully. "I can't say as much about the young man invading your sister's personal space, however."

  "That's Brad's brother, Tully," Fran said, rolling her eyes. "He thinks he's irresistible to women. You want me to tell him to leave Meg alone?"

  "She knows I'll help her if she needs it," Joan said.

  EVEY KEPT HER head down as she trudged up the rise. She brought her eyes up and glanced at her houseguests. Frannie had described them, but Evey hadn't seen any family pictures. She looked down at her clothes and frowned. Well, they started out clean and pressed. She sighed. Dirty smudges and stains on the knees from kneeling in the stall hay had made her clothes a mini disaster. Oh well, that was life on the farm.

  As she topped the rise, Brad trotted down to meet her. "How's Sheba?" he asked as he fell in beside her.

  "False alarm," she said softly. "I should never have tried to breed her. We've tried so many times and it never took."

  "She's not that old, Mom. The first one's always the hardest."

  "That's true. After you, Beth and Tully were a snap," she kidded, side-stepping a poke in the ribs from her oldest child.

  She was still chuckling when she stopped next to Frannie. She wiped her hands quickly on her already dirty slacks and offered a hand to the tall, attractive woman next to Fran. "Evelyn Chase," she said. Her hazel eyes squinted against the bright sunlight. "Sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you arrived, but life doesn't always come to a convenient halt when we want it to. I apologize for my appearance."

  The woman looked at Evelyn as she firmly grasped her hand.

  A mild pulse of energy traveled up Evey's arm. Amazing eyes, she thought as their eyes met.

  "No, it never seems to. Joan Carmichael. It's a pleasure to meet you at last. I can see where Brad gets his good looks." Evey's face felt suddenly warm and she hoped she wasn't blushing. She flexed her hand when Joan released it. "Let me introduce my daughters," Joan said. "My son and his family should be here soon." Joan took Charmaine lightly by the elbow. The pulse was still there. "This is our oldest daughter, Charmaine." Charmaine leaned forward and shook Evey's hand.

  Evey turned her attention back to Joan who was continuing to introduce the members of her party. Fran's mother was soft spoken and attractive in an understated way. Evey couldn't identify the subtle scent Joan wore, but found it quite alluring. "And this is our youngest, Megan. She's obviously an individualist."

  "Individuality can be a good thing." Evey smiled as she took Meg's hand. She looked at Joan and said, "I'd be willing to bet you were pretty individualistic yourself when you were younger."

  The corners of Meg's mouth twitched up slightly and she looked at her mother. "I'da liked to have seen that."

  Joan's retort was interrupted by the arrival of a gray sedan, which stopped next to Evey's Suburban. Without waiting for an introduction, Evey walked to the car's back passenger door and opened it, releasing two squealing children. The passenger in the front seat stepped from the vehicle, sun glinting off her auburn hair. Evey detected a slight accent when the woman said the children's names.

  "Welcome to Meadowbrook Farm," Evey said as she extended her hand to the new arrivals. "I'm Evey Chase, the proud mother of the groom."

  Giselle Carmichael accepted Evey's hand, but pulled her into a hug as well. "I am Giselle Carmichael." She glanced toward the children and smiled. "And those little monkeys are my children, Mitchell and Morgana."

  "They're mine, too," a man in his early thirties announced as he joined Giselle. He held his hand out to Evey. "Tucker Carmichael."

  Evey liked Tucker and his family immediately. When Morgana came near Evey, she rubbed her eyes and yawned. Evey squatted down and smiled. "Tired?" When the girl nodded, Evey picked her up and began walking toward the house, holding the child on her hip. Speaking over her shoulder, she said, "I hope you won't mind, but I'm giving you and your family the little house out back. It will give you some privacy and might make it easier for these little guys to get some rest." She turned and walked backward while she spoke to the others, hoisting an already sleeping Morgana higher in her arms. "Tully! Escort the others into the main house. Beth, you know where everyone's supposed to be."

  Evey had contracted to have a small two bedroom cabin constructed behind the main house not long after Brad graduated from high school. Over the years it had served as a place for him to stay when he came home from college and acted as a guesthouse whenever she needed it. It was perfect for Tucker and his family.

  While her guests unpacked and got settled in their temporary new home, Evey showered and changed into her normal attire. She felt much more comfortable as she strode into the kitchen and pushed the sleeves of her long-sleeved t-shirt up. She rubbed a hand up and down her right arm. She wondered if Fran's mother had felt that tingle in her arm when they shook hands. Evey hadn't felt the same thing when she shook hands with the other members of Fran's family, but shrugged it off.

  Fran had helped her plan the menu for the first night. It wouldn't take long to finish preparing the simple meal. The meat was marinating in the refrigerator, the beans were soaking, and the homemade bread dough would be ready for the oven in about an hour. Evey checked the sun tea, absorbing the last rays of sunlight on the front porch, and carried the large container into the house. So far Fran's family had seemed friendly and Evey hoped they would like the meals she prepared.

  Evey was surprised to find Joan standing in the kitchen when she carried in the tea. Joan turned and smiled briefly. She approached Evey and said, "Let me take that for you. Sun tea?" she asked.

  Evey nodded. "You can set it on the counter," she said. "Were you looking for something?"

  "May I make a pot of coffee?" Joan asked.

  Evey opened a cabinet below the sink. "I could use a cup myself. Have a seat. You're a guest."

  "That doesn't mean you have to wait on me or the members of my family. I'm sure you have other more important things to do."

  Evey looked over her shoulder at Joan. "We've tried to get ahead
with everything. Fran has been extremely helpful."

  "Really?" Joan said.

  "She's become quite proficient at canning over the summer and seems to enjoy it," Evey said as she turned on the coffeemaker and joined Joan at the table.

  "Must be a genetic throwback," Joan said with a slight smile. "I grew up on a farm in Nebraska and helped my mother can."

  "Fran didn't tell me that," Evey said.

  "We've never discussed my youth much. My family moved away from the farm when I was quite young, barely a teenager."

  Evey fidgeted while she waited for the coffeemaker to burble out the last of the coffee. She breathed a sigh of relief when, chattering away in French, Fran and Giselle entered the kitchen. Both young women greeted Joan warmly.

  "Where are the children?" Joan asked.

  "Admiring the horses," Fran answered.

  "It is a chance for them to spend some time with their father," Giselle added. She turned toward Evey. "Fran tells me you are preparing homemade bread."

  "It's almost finished rising," Evey said as she pointed to the bowl on the counter.

  "My grandfather owned a small bakery in Avignon. As a child I loved awakening to the scent of fresh bread coming from his ovens. I hope you will allow me to assist you," Giselle said.

  Evey laughed. "I never turn down an offer of help in the kitchen. Are your rooms all right?"

  "Ours are delightful," Giselle said.

  "They are all lovely," Joan agreed. "The fresh flowers give them a welcoming touch."

  "Those were Fran's idea," Evey said.

  Fran glanced at Joan. "Mama placed fresh flowers in our rooms every other day. I thought they would let a piece of her be with us in a small way."

  "Yes, she did," Joan said.

  Evey saw the brief look of sorrow in Joan's eyes and turned away from the personal moment.

  "What can I do to help?" Joan asked as she carried her cup to the sink.

  "You know what they say about too many cooks in the kitchen," Evey said. "I've got plenty of help in here. Why don't you join your son and grandchildren? Or wander around and relax? Believe me, I've seen Fran's agenda and this may be the last relaxing moment you get until after the ceremony," Evey said.