Made Maleen_A Modern Twist on a Fairy Tale

by Jeanne St. James

  They had loved and respected her pop. And even though he was the reason for ripping Bray and her apart, she still loved and respected him too. He did his best after her mother died. And she always appreciated everything he did for her.

  She pushed the rocking chair back and forth with her foot as she waited. The old chair creaked with each move and it became a rhythmic sound that soothed her. She remembered when her dad used to sit out here after a long day and drink a beer to relax, rocking himself to sleep sometimes. She would have to come out and shake him awake to go to bed.

  Pete, Mason, and Willie hung out on the porch with her, also waiting, as the sun went down. The sky turned into brilliant hues of red, orange, and yellow.

  Bray was late. Again.

  She heard a truck engine screaming up the dirt lane and he had to be hitting every rut at fifty miles-an-hour from the way it sounded. He’d be lucky if he arrived with the truck in one piece.

  Bray went from fifty miles-per-hour to a dead halt, the tires kicking up a cloud of dust around his work truck. He jumped out, wearing his best dressy western shirt, black Levi’s, and newer cowboy boots. He hitched up his silver belt buckle and strode to the porch, apologizing profusely, his hat in his hand.

  “What was it this time?” Mal asked as he jogged up the porch steps.

  “One of the Davis’s draft horses foundered.”

  “Laminitis is serious.”

  He nodded, beating his hat off on his thigh and plunking it onto his head. “Yeah, but luckily we caught it early. Hopefully, he doesn’t end up permanently lame. The farrier is going to make him special shoes. I hope it works because he’s a good work horse and a beautiful animal.”

  Mal smiled at the passion and dedication in his voice. He certainly loved his job. “Well, I’ll excuse you for being late this time. Pop has all the time in the world.”

  Bray’s eyes flicked down to the urn at Mal’s feet. He shook the farm workers’ hands as they gathered on the porch ready to get the show on the road.

  Willie, his voice gritty, spoke up. “Doc Daniels, you may have to take a look at Ellie May’s eye, I think the old cow has an infection.”

  “No problem, Willie, I can do that.”

  Mal picked up the urn and stepped off the porch. “Not tonight. It can wait until the morning.”

  “But the Doc won’t be here first thing in the morning.”

  Mal shot Willie a look.

  “Ah, yeah. It can wait ‘til morning. Got it, Boss Lady.”

  Mal hated the term “Boss Lady” and she tried to get the hands to stop calling her that, but it had been fruitless. She had given up.

  Bray leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Mmm. Boss Lady. I like it better than Princess. You can boss me around anytime.”

  Mal swatted at him and took off down through the yard, gripping her pop’s ashes tightly. The last thing she wanted was to trip and her pop go up in a puff of smoke.

  She had thought long and hard about where to spread his ashes and then remembered that he told her he spread her mother’s ashes around some of the fruit trees in the orchard. He had claimed that the fruit off those trees was the sweetest that year than they had ever been.

  She decided to spread him where the love of his life was. The five of them hoofed it to the small orchard not far from the house. Bray fell way behind since he ended up assisting Willie. Now that Willie was in his seventies, he wasn’t as quick as he used to be. Though he’d be the last one to admit it.

  She reached the row of peach trees before anyone else. Pop’s favorite fruit. He loved to eat it many different ways: cobbler, pie, jam, preserves, canned, and he loved them, best of all, plucked right from the tree. Being early in the season there wasn’t a piece of fruit to be seen. So, it was a perfect time for her pop to sweeten this year’s crop.

  As the rest of them caught up, she reached to open the lid of the urn. Her fingers trembled badly. She didn’t want to see her father, a great man, reduced to a simple pile of ash. She didn’t know if she could bear it.

  Bray stepped forward to take the urn out of her shaky hands. And she just nodded, releasing a relieved breath. The men took their cowboy hats in hand and remained silent as Bray removed the lid, then began to sprinkle the ashes around the base of the trees.

  Mal sucked in a ragged breath. She told herself not to cry. To remain stoic. But that plan went to shit almost immediately. She swiped at the tears on her cheeks and Willie came closer to wrap his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into the man she knew all her life. He was as close to a father figure she had left. His embrace made her cry even harder.

  When Bray reached the end of the row, he put the lid back on the urn and started back. His expression was blank and he only had eyes for her. He knew what she was going through. He buried both of his parents in the past fourteen years.

  “How ‘bout I just meet you back at the house?” he suggested, his cowboy hat back on his head with the brim tilted low, hiding his eyes.

  Mal nodded, her vision blurry.

  Willie gave her one last squeeze and the men left her alone. Left her to grieve.

  * * *

  “I gave Willie some drops for Ellie May’s eye,” Bray said as Mal climbed the steps to the front porch. She had stayed in the orchard much longer than she meant to.

  “Oh great. Now the cow can eat more hay and grain and not produce a damn drop of milk to earn her keep. I swear he’s in love with the old bag of bones.”

  He was hunched down in the rocking chair, his hat low over his face and his legs kicked out wide. Mal stepped between them. She plucked the hat off his head and plopped it on her own. It was too big, but she tilted it back so she could see him.

  “Now, now. That ancient thing can’t eat that much and she’s become his pet. Have some compassion.” He smirked, then let his gaze roam over her from head to toe. “Damn. I’m picturing you naked just wearing my hat and your necklace.”

  “And I’m picturing you naked just wearing some spurs.”

  He barked out a laugh and rose to his feet, the chair rocking wildly behind him. “You know you won’t catch me dead on the back of one of those creatures from hell.”

  Mal snorted. “Just ‘cause they’ve bitten you, kicked you, and pinned you into the corner of a stall doesn’t mean horses aren’t the sweetest creatures on earth.”

  It was Bray’s turn to snort. “Yeah, I have the scar to prove it.”

  “Did you eat?” she asked.

  “Yep. Mrs. Davis gave me a bowl of her famous beef stew and a tall glass of sun tea.” He placed both hands over his heart. “If she wasn’t already hitched, I’d marry her.”

  “Oh, that’s all it takes, huh?”

  “You know the saying. Good food and sex is the way to a man’s heart.”

  Mal laughed. “That’s not the saying.”

  “I know, but it works too.” He pushed past her to hold the screen door open, grinning wide.

  Mal stopped in front of him and ran a finger down the line of buttons on his shirt. “I’m sure it does, Cow-Boy.”

  Bray brushed a thumb over the letters of her Princess charm. “I love it when you call me Cow-Boy because I know you’re ready for me to saddle up.”

  “Meh,” she said and walked into the house, fighting a smile. Her nipples were hard as diamonds and her pussy already warm and wet. When she told Willie that Bray could check Ellie May in the morning, she already planned on him staying overnight. What a naughty princess she was.

  But first, they needed to talk. She avoided the conversation about her own marriage for the last few days and wondered if Bray was simply being polite by not pressing. “Let’s sit in the living room. I have something to tell you. Beer?”

  Bray’s brows rose while the corners of his mouth turned down. “No. I’ll pass on the beer. Unless I’m going to need to get drunk to hear what you’re going to tell me.” He lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “Do I need to get drunk, Mal?”

  She took a deep breat
h. “No, but I may need to.”

  “That bad? Doesn’t sound promising.”

  He followed her into the outdated living room, unpacked boxes still tucked in the corners, even though the bulk of them remained stuffed in the front parlor. She didn’t look forward to finishing that project.

  “While I appreciate you wearing the necklace I bought you, you don’t have to wear it. It was cheap and what I could afford at the time.”

  “I want to wear it. And I don’t care how much it cost. I appreciated the thought when you gave it to me.”

  He perched on the edge of the old plaid couch, his hands on his knees as if prepared to spring up at any second.

  Mal removed his Stetson from her head and tossed it on the side table. Running a restless hand through her hair, she began to pace.

  “Please, Mal. Don’t. You’re stressing me out as it is.”

  She paused. “Sorry.”

  “Before you start, I want to clarify something I’ve been not so subtle in hinting at, and I’ve said it before.” He patted the couch next to him. She sat reluctantly and they both shifted to face each other. “Mal, I want to go back to what we once were. Who we were before our lives got so badly interrupted.”

  “We can’t, Bray. We’ve changed. We’re different people. Life…happened.”

  “Not so different. Both of us a little broken, banged up maybe.”

  “Not maybe.”

  Bray nodded, then leveled his gaze at her. He studied her for a moment, and when he opened his mouth to continue, Mal stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Let me explain why I said that.”

  She took a deep breath and began…

  Mal had been six months pregnant with her daughter Lisabeth when the unthinkable happened. She figured they were safe since they made it past the first trimester without an issue and then one day the cramps started. At first, she thought it was indigestion until the sharp pains caused her to collapse to her knees in the middle of the NY Stock Exchange trading floor. The stock market didn’t stop for no one, but someone finally did call an ambulance when they saw the blood starting to pool.

  She lost the baby and a couple hours later her husband, David, finally showed up at the hospital. His concern quickly turned to anger and he blamed her for losing the baby. No matter how many times her obstetrician told him it wasn’t Mal’s fault, David didn’t want to hear it. He was convinced it had to be something Mal did. She didn’t want to stop floor trading and he blamed the stress of that on her. He was sure that caused the miscarriage. He accused her of never listening to him, especially when he told her to take it easy during the pregnancy. But even though her job was highly stressful, she enjoyed the fast pace and the thrill. Until that day.

  The day everything changed.

  The emptiness inside her became an ache she couldn’t get rid of. David didn’t talk to her for days. She needed him and he wasn’t there. At first, Mal thought he may be grieving too, in his own way. But as the days turned into weeks and he stopped coming home at night and shut her out, she knew it was more than that.

  As a stock broker, even though David worked in a different firm, they ran in the same social circles. The employees of the firms hung out at the same bars, the same restaurants, gyms, coffee shops…everywhere. They all talked business and also gossiped. Sometimes the gossip was frenzied and savage.

  Mal heard the whispers, received the looks of pity and realized some people were avoiding eye contact, if not her altogether. But it wasn’t just about the miscarriage, no. It was the fact that her own husband called her a failure to anyone who would listen. And there were rumors of other women in his life. Not just one. Many.

  On the occasions that he’d come home, it would be after midnight. Sometimes he would climb in their bed, sometimes he’d sleep in the spare bedroom or on the couch. He was distant and cold, and she not only grieved the loss of their daughter but the sudden death of their marriage.

  Always a strong woman, Mal became crippled emotionally. Doubts grew about both her job and her future. New York was suddenly not so exciting anymore and floor trading drained all her energy. She longed for the quiet of Kansas, the peace, and the slower pace.

  She debated leaving or tossing David out, but the decision ended up slamming her like a barn door in a hurricane.

  One evening after work, some other traders and brokers invited her out for a drink. She really didn’t want to go but thought it would be good for her, maybe help her out of her funk. She had never been to that particular piano bar before. Maybe it was a coincidence and maybe it wasn’t…

  When she walked in with her fellow traders, David was there with another woman. One with long blonde hair, her makeup on point, beautifully clothed in a long, sleek red dress, her cleavage the bullseye of attention from men who sat at nearby tables. She had her arms snaked around his neck and she practically sat in his lap since they were in a corner booth. Mal froze when David leaned close to whisper into her ear. The woman threw her head back and laughed with dramatic flair.

  Mal suddenly felt like she had worn her barn boots, overalls, and a flannel shirt to go out. She couldn’t compete with the elegance this woman displayed.

  Nor did she want to.

  If he wanted to be with another woman, that was fine with her. He could pick any woman in the world with a perfect uterus able to pop out dozens of kids. She didn’t care anymore. However, she was sick of playing the game of charades, acting like they still had a solid marriage, when the male half was out in public fucking around and not caring who knew. The least he could do, if he didn’t want to be with her, was leave. She wasn’t going to have a dramatic meltdown, take his money or his possessions. No, if he didn’t want to be with her anymore, he needed to man up and move the fuck out.

  Instead, he embarrassed the hell out of her. Made her feel like a used doormat.

  Not one of her co-workers tried to stop her as she marched toward the table. Even if they had, she wouldn’t have been deterred.

  As she stopped in front of the table, she smiled down at her husband. The kind of smile that said, “You’re about to get royally screwed, so grab your ass and hold on.”

  “I hope you aren’t using our joint credit card for this little rendezvous of yours.”

  David glanced up, his eyes wide, his mouth open, as he shoved his date off him, not so gracefully. In fact, she let out a little squeal. Imagine that.

  She offered her hand to the blonde. “Hi, I’m Mal.”

  The woman took her hand and shook it weakly, giving David a questioning look.

  Mal followed up with, “I’m David’s wife.”

  The blonde dropped her hand like it had burned her. Mal widened her smile. But she knew it didn’t reach her eyes. Nope. Her eyes were too busy shooting daggers at David.

  “Just so you know, you might want to get checked for STDs,” she suggested to the pale-faced woman. “As your date here gave me chlamydia, which caused the loss of our daughter.”

  David’s brows pinned together and his face darkened. “The fuck I did.”

  “Yes, you certainly did. And not until after I got pregnant. I was tested at my first prenatal visit and was clean. But somehow during the pregnancy, I contracted it and I know I didn’t fuck around. So, that…”—she jabbed a finger in his direction— “leaves…” Jab. “You, asshole.” Mal leaned in until she was only a foot away from his face. “I want you out of the condo until I move out. Then it’s all yours. I hope you can afford it by yourself. Maybe your friend here can shack up with you and help with the fucking bills.”

  She spun on her heels and held her head up high as she marched out of the bar. She fought the urge to turn around and flip him the double bird. But then that would just be childish, right?

  “I didn’t move out. Not at first anyway. I don’t know where he stayed and I didn’t care. I filed for divorce the next day. We went no-fault and it was quick and painless. And then my pop died. I quit my job, had movers pack up my stuff, and here I am… In
my childhood home, surrounded by boxes that house my life for the past fourteen years, and I’m sitting on the couch with my high school sweetheart. Ta-da! The end.”

  Bray had been patient and quiet the whole time she told her story. The only indication he had been listening was an occasional squeeze of her knee.

  He sat back, raked his fingers through his hair, and blew out a breath. “Damn. I thought my marriage had been bad.”

  “Are we competing?”

  “Hell no.” Bray grabbed her hand and wrapped his long, warm fingers around hers. “Can I ask you something, though?”

  Mal arched an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Did you ever get rid of that chlamydia?”

  Mal’s breath stopped and then she laughed so hard a tear escaped. Suddenly, the real tears began to flow. She had never talked about what happened to anyone. Not even her pop. He knew she lost the baby, but not why. She hadn’t told him about the divorce because she couldn’t bear to hear the disappointment in his voice. Then it ended up being too late. Pop was gone.

  Bray gathered her into his arms, holding her tight until the last sobs escaped her. He stroked her hair and whispered words that were nothing. But not to her. To her they meant everything.

  After that good cry, she felt cleansed a bit. But not enough. The story she told him left a gaping hole inside her once again.

  “My body failed me. I failed in my marriage. I failed my child.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Mal. Don’t even blame yourself on this.”

  “He told me time and time again I was a failure.”

  “Listen to me. It wasn’t you, baby. He was the failure.”

  “I can’t ever go through that devastation again.”

  He hesitated for a moment, and then another before he said, “Don’t say that.”

  She shook her head. “It’s true.”

  “You just need time to heal. What’s that saying? Time heals all wounds?” Bray asked.