Milk Money

by Cecelia Dowdy

  Once Frank was calmer, Devon asked him a question. “When does the urge to drink happen?”

  Frank was truthful, telling Devon the urge usually hit in the evening, after working a full day.

  “Frank, I’ll be praying for you every day, but you really need to meet with the alcoholic support group weekly.” He gave Frank a business card. “You can call me anytime you want to, but I’m warning you, I’ll be calling you every day, too.” He stroked his chin. “By coming to me, I think you’ve admitted to yourself that you have a problem. Also, I want to point out that you can’t handle this sort of problem alone. Not only do you need help from the support group, but you need to find help in Jesus. If you’ll just accept Him as your Savior, then the load you carry on your shoulders will become lighter. Remember what the pastor said this morning: Jesus will never leave you nor forsake you.”

  Frank certainly felt left and forsaken, but he didn’t know if he’d find the courage to surrender his life to Jesus.

  nine

  A few days later Frank met with his boss and informed him of his final discovery for the Coopers’ farm. “You’ll need to meet with the wife since she’s the one who initiated the audit,” his boss had advised.

  Now Frank sat in his car in front of the Coopers’ farm. It was midafternoon, and he was scheduled to meet with Laura Cooper alone. When he’d called that morning to make the appointment, she’d said to come that afternoon since Emily would be at the grocery store. His thoughts wandered to the previous night. The urge to drink had slammed into him after Trish called, again saying that their father was not doing so well. He’d picked up the phone to call his dad but found the old anger festering in his heart like a canker sore. Instead of turning to drink, he’d called Devon Crandall, who’d again stressed that Frank needed to find relief in Jesus. Devon had encouraged him to come to the next support group meeting, and he’d also told him to discover more about God. “Read the New Testament, Frank. It’ll tell you about Jesus’ nature.” He’d spoken to the man for more than an hour. After tossing and turning in bed for a long time, he’d finally gone to sleep—without taking a drink of alcohol.

  He got out of the car and walked to the screen door. The urge to drink almost consumed him, but he forced himself to think of Emily, the Cooper farm, and the news he had to deliver. Taking a deep breath, he rapped on the door. Laura sat at the table, reading her Bible and drinking a cup of coffee. The woman looked up, smiling. “Frank.” She placed a marker in her Bible and closed it. “Frank, come on in.” When he sat at the table, she touched his hand. “You seem a bit agitated. Are you okay?”

  “Not really.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I’m fine. I wanted to talk to you about the audit. I don’t think Emily looked through all the financial papers in that file she found.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your husband had Excel spreadsheets keeping track of winnings and losses at a gambling casino over in Delaware. I’ve found evidence that he was spending large sums of the farm’s profits at a casino. He kept records of what he had spent and how much he owed the farm from his gambling debts.”

  Laura cried softly. “I thought he had stopped gambling. He was going to a support group.”

  Her reaction caught him off guard. “You knew about this?”

  “Yes, he did this a long time ago, but he promised me he’d stopped. I can now see it was all a lie.” Frank found a box of tissues on the counter, and he gave them to her.

  “Emily doesn’t know?”

  “No, neither of his daughters knew about their father’s bad habit. I didn’t think it was necessary to tell them since he’d told me he’d stopped.”

  If Emily and Laura wanted to start keeping track of the accounting records and tracking the profitability of the farm, then he didn’t see how he could hide this information from Emily. He relayed his concerns to Laura.

  “I understand. I just don’t know how to break it to her. She thought her father was perfect.” She blew her nose and looked at him as if to seek comfort. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Emily. But I don’t have a choice.” She sniffed. “Oh, Lord, please help me.”

  “Mrs. Cooper, that’s not all I needed to tell you. I believe your husband falsified his tax returns.”

  With shaky hands, she covered her mouth, continuing to cry. “Do you mean he owes money to the government?”

  “Yes. He grossly understated his revenue, and I know he owes the IRS some money … a lot of money. He’s falsified his tax returns for the last two years.” He told her how he couldn’t find the tax returns for the last two years and that Emily found them hidden in the closet. “Did you look at the tax returns before you signed them?”

  “Paul took care of all the finances. When he told me to sign the tax returns, I just trusted the numbers were accurate.” She wiped her tears away. “Will we have to lose the farm to pay the back taxes? This farm means so much to Emily. She would die if she lost this home.”

  “You could lose your farm. But you’ll have to let her know what happened. Usually in situations like this, the IRS will want their money back. They might work with you and Emily to set up a payment plan or something.” When she had pulled herself together, he finally spoke again. “When are you going to tell Emily?”

  She wiped her nose. “I’ll tell her before the end of the day. She deserves to know.”

  He tried to make her feel better. “Mrs. Cooper, I think your husband may have been keeping track of all this because he was planning on replacing the money he lost back into the farm.”

  She nodded. “He’s done this before, a long time ago. He thought if he kept at it long enough, he would win the money back. But sometimes, when he did win back the money he’d lost, the temptation to gamble it away again was just too great.” She shook her head. “I’ll never understand why this happened, but I promise I’ll talk to Emily about it today.”

  Later that day Emily returned from the barn, and fatigue washed through her. She told Laura she was going to take a short nap before doing the evening milking. Sleep consumed her until the phone rang. Emily turned her head on the soft pillow, snuggling deeper into her blankets, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep before milking time.

  Laura’s footsteps pounded on the floor, and Emily’s door flew open when she entered. “Emily, you’ve got to wake up.” She opened the blinds, and sunlight spilled into the room. Emily regretfully broke her midday nap. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  Laura paced the room, her mouth set in a grim line. “Becky’s had her baby! They just gave her a C-section at the hospital.”

  Emily’s world tilted, and she sent up a silent plea to God for her stepsister’s health and for the baby. “But she’s only seven months pregnant. What happened?”

  “They think the size of her fibroids caused her to go into early labor.” Her stepmother shook her head. She sat on the bed and grabbed Emily’s hand, closing her eyes. “Lord, please be with us during this trying time.” Her voice filled the room as they lifted up the plight of Becky’s baby. When their prayer was finished, she squeezed Emily’s hand.

  “They say the baby’s chances of survival are good.” Her mother shook her head. “I’ve got to get out there.”

  Emily’s heart filled with dread at the thought of Laura leaving again, but she knew it was for the best. “I know you do, Mom.”

  “I hate leaving you so soon.”

  Emily shook her head, patting Laura’s frail shoulder. “Don’t feel bad about it. Becky’s got two other children, and since it’s the busy season at Keith’s job, you know he’s going to be working some serious overtime now.” Both of Becky’s children were under five, so her stepmother would have her hands full. “Don’t overdo it, Mom. I don’t want your back to go out on you again.” The last time that had happened, she’d been in bed for a week, barely able to move without being in pain.

  “Honey, I won’t.” She glanced at the clock. “Since Becky�
�s had a C-section, I know it’s going to be hard for her to get around for about a week or so. I want to try and get a flight out of here today.”

  One of Laura’s friends from church soon arrived to take her to the airport. Emily was sorry to see her stepmother go so soon after returning from her trip to Florida, but she knew it was necessary for her to be there to assist her daughter with her children.

  That evening Emily was out in the barn with Darren milking the cows when her cell phone chirped. She told Darren to continue milking alone for a few minutes and flipped the phone open. “Hi, Laura.”

  “Emily, with all the excitement about Becky’s baby, I forgot to tell you about Frank’s audit.”

  Emily frowned. “What about it? Is Frank finished?”

  “Emily, you need to call him now. I’m not very good at explaining financial things, and he can do a better job of it.”

  The phone crackled a bit. “Mom, I can’t hear you very well.”

  “Honey, I think I’m losing the connection, but I want you to contact Frank!”

  After ending the phone call with her mother, she called Frank. His deep voice carried over the wire. “Hi, Emily.”

  Her heart skipped a beat as she spoke. She told him about the birth of Becky’s baby. “Mom’s already left. She told me that I needed to call you about the audit.”

  “Can I come by tomorrow night?”

  “Can you come by before that?”

  “I wish I could, but I’ve got to finish up some stuff for my boss tonight. I promise I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  Emily ended the call, wondering why Laura sounded so stressed.

  Frank entered his car, leaning his head back onto the headrest. After meeting with the alcoholic support group and speaking with Devon, he’d hoped he could stop drinking. When he was at his apartment the previous night, he’d thought he could have just a little bit to drink, just enough to take the edge off his raw pain. But once he’d sipped the alcohol, he couldn’t stop himself, and he fell asleep sloshed.

  He called Devon this morning, telling him what had happened the night before. Devon had again stressed his group was a Christian support group and in order for Frank to give up the alcohol completely, he would need to surrender himself to Jesus. “That’s the only way you can find the strength to quit.”

  He wondered how he could surrender his life to someone. He wanted to deal with things his way and live his life according to his own rules.

  He drove to Emily’s, pushing the thoughts from his mind. He slowed his car and parked in the driveway once he’d reached the farm. Frank got out of the car and walked toward the barn, smelling the odor of animals and hay. He watched the black-and-white Holstein cows lined up in their stalls. Emily and a lanky teenager, whom he assumed was Jeremy or Darren, walked between the cows, milking four at a time. They worked together easily, and as the milk flowed through the pipes, the machines made a steady rhythm in the early evening heat.

  Emily glanced up and smiled. “Frank! You’re a little early!”

  She didn’t seem to be too upset, and he didn’t want to interrupt her milking routine. He gestured toward the bovines. “I don’t want to interrupt you. I’ll talk to you when you’re finished.”

  He watched her, drinking in her presence like an ice-cold glass of lemonade on a hot day. The joy that radiated from her face was like a ray of sunshine.

  Since the milking was done, she sent the teen to feed the cows before she rinsed her milking equipment in the adjoining room. He stood beside her at the sink as she performed the chore.

  He touched her shoulder. “Are you ready to talk right now?” he asked, touching the tendrils of her hair that escaped from her ponytail.

  “Yes, we can talk now. What’s happened with the audit for my farm? Mom sounded worried.”

  He sighed before he repeated the information he’d relayed to Laura the previous day. Emily’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened. She backed away, shaking her head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I wish it wasn’t true.”

  She stormed toward the teenager and told him to finish cleaning the milking equipment after he was finished feeding the cows and the bull. Frank followed her as she walked back to the house. “So, you’re telling me that my father was a dishonest gambler?” She covered her quivering mouth. “That’s not true! There’s no way my father would place our farm in jeopardy.”

  Frank remained silent as she plopped onto the porch swing, unsure of how to comfort her.

  She turned toward him, glaring. “So you’re telling me that I could lose my farm, too?” Her large eyes filled with tears. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

  He ran his fingers over his head. “Yes, but—”

  She looked away. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  The cold, hard edge to her voice frightened him. “What do you mean?”

  “Were you sober the whole time you were auditing my farm?”

  He clamped his mouth shut, shocked she would make such an implication. Taking a deep breath, he stood and walked away, unsure if she was serious or if she just needed an excuse because she didn’t want to believe the truth about her father.

  Emily watched Frank return to his car, and her heart pulsed with anger. She almost called him back, shocked at the words that had tumbled from her mouth. Shaking her head, she turned away from the accountant, staring at the corn and silos in the distance.

  She wiped her tears away, her head suddenly aching. Rocking the swing in the warm breeze, she tried to digest Frank’s bad news. She jumped when Darren stepped onto the porch. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” The teen gazed at her, his dark eyes full of curiosity. “Hey, are you okay, Miss Emily?”

  She sniffed. “There’s so much going on right now.” When he made no attempt to leave, she asked, “Did you need something?”

  He nodded, his short braids swinging. “Yes, it’s payday. Remember?”

  “Oh, yes.” Once she had given him his pay and he’d left, she sat back on the porch.

  Kelly pulled into the driveway and sauntered onto the porch when it started to get dark, still wearing her business suit and high heels. She plopped onto the swing beside Emily. “I was on my way home from work, and I thought I’d stop by.” She peered into Emily’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  Emily stared at the porch ceiling. “I can’t even talk about it.”

  “You look zonked.” She grabbed Emily’s hand. “Come on inside.”

  Kelly fixed some peppermint tea and placed a plate of lemon cookies on the table. “Have something to drink or eat. You look awful.”

  Emily’s stomach roiled, and she pushed the tea away.

  “Em, drink the tea. Maybe it will help calm you down.” After taking several deep breaths, she sipped the tea as Kelly sat at the table with her. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Frank said some terrible things about my father.” Her voice sounded hoarse.

  “What did he say?”

  Emily could barely speak as she told her friend about Frank’s accusations against her dad. “Have you called Laura?”

  “No, not yet. My mom did call me this morning, but I was out milking the cows. She left a message and said Becky and the baby are doing fine.” She blew air through her lips. “I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to believe. And do you know what the worst part of it is?”

  “What’s that?”

  She told her how she asked Frank if he was sober the entire time he was doing the audit.

  Kelly gasped, and Emily moaned. “Em, I can’t believe you said that.”

  “Frank looked so hurt when I said it.”

  “Maybe you should apologize to him,” Kelly suggested.

  “I probably should. I just got so mad when he said those things. I was angry, and I said the first thing that came to my mind.”

  “Did you know he’s been attending Devon Crandall’s alcoholic support group?”

  Emily stared at her frie
nd. “I told him to talk to Devon, and he told me he’d tried to go to a meeting but he chickened out.”

  “Well, I heard through the church grapevine that he’s been attending. Maybe he’s trying to give up the alcohol, Em.”

  Emily’s mouth quivered. “Oh no. What if my insensitive comment makes him go home and drink?” She closed her eyes. “Kelly, I feel so bad. I just …”

  Kelly rushed over to her friend. “Give him some time to cool off. I’m sure he knew you didn’t mean it.”

  Emily sniffed. “All those things he said about Daddy—I just can’t believe them. I just can’t.”

  Kelly left and returned with some pills. “I found that prescription you filled for your sleeping pills right after your father died. Here’s two. Why don’t you take them and get a good night’s sleep?”

  Emily accepted the pills and took them. She found she just couldn’t talk any longer after Kelly had taken her exit and the medicine settled into her body. Her muscles relaxed, and she soon stumbled up the stairs to her bedroom. For the first time in her whole farming career, she fell asleep wearing the same clothes she wore to milk the cows.

  Frank slammed the door to the accounting office building on Pratt Street. He stood on the corner, gazing at the buildings in the distance. Late evening tourists and shoppers walked by, their arms heavy with colorful store bags. He pulled off his tie, hating the managerial meeting that had occurred that day in the main office. His firm required all upper-level managers to wear business attire to these meetings, and he wasn’t in the mood to wear his suit today. His boss had also called him into his office, informing him that he’d appeared irritable and cranky lately and he wondered if something was wrong. Frank couldn’t admit that he needed a drink—badly. Emily’s comment the previous evening had haunted him all night, and he had almost drunk some of his favorite scotch to dull the pain. He’d finally dumped the scotch down the toilet before tossing and turning most of the night.