“Hey —,” I yelled, as I watched him stride into the kitchen, his hand outstretched towards my frail, surprised father.
“Lincoln LaCroix, sir, nice to meet you,” he said, his hand shoved into my father’s face. A slick smile appeared on his face as my father took his hand hesitantly, and stood up. When I saw the look in my father’s eye, I knew he could see right through Lincoln. The one thing dad always said he was most proud of was his ability to sense if a man was good or not.
He always said that was why he liked the Hope’s so much. They were good people. By his squinted, steely gaze as he sized up Lincoln, this sharp-dressed, over-confident stranger, it was clear was seeing something completely different than when he looked at Crit.
“Who are you?” my father asked bluntly.
“A friend of Ruby’s, sir. Didn’t she tell you?” Lincoln looked back at me and winked. My stomach felt sick, and the overly sweet scent of the roses in my hands didn’t help.
“Is that so?” my father asked, stealing a glance at me, before he pushed his chair back from the table and pulled himself to his full height. He looked so weak and frail, standing there beside Lincoln. The contrast of Lincoln’s healthy youthfulness was a stark contrast to my father’s frailty. But even still, the look in my father’s eye was clear. He wasn’t buying Lincoln’s story for a second.
“Yes,” Lincoln replied, walking over to me and putting his arm around my shoulder possessively. “Ruby and I are sweet on each other.”
I shrugged his arm off of me and took a step away from him.
“Lincoln, I told you on the phone that I don’t want to see you anymore.”
His eyes hardened, his smile plastered on his face so tightly that it eerily reminded me of the scary plastic clown faces of the water balloon game that Georgia and I spent hours playing at the State Fair.
“I know you did, Ruby. But, like I said, I figured you might have come to your senses by now.”
“What in the Sam Hill is your problem? Have you lost your ever lovin’ mind, Lincoln? I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Ruby, you’d best reconsider that decision.”
“Sounds to me like my Ruby’s sure of her decision, Mr. LaCroix. I think it’s best you be leavin’ now,” my father said.
“I don’t think so,” Lincoln said, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out a black handgun.
I gasped and screamed, the roses falling to my feet.
“Lincoln!” I hollered.
He spun around, waving the gun around, pointing at my father and then me.
“Hands up!” he yelled, his sickly smile replaced by an ugly sneer. We put our hands up, and my father stepped over to me, standing in front of me protectively.
“Now, son, look here,” he began. “This isn’t necessary. Put the gun down - we can work this out.”
“Fuck you, old man!” Lincoln yelled.
“Lincoln,” I said, looking over my father’s shoulder, our hands raised high in the air. “Please, put the gun down!” My voice was frantic, and hot adrenaline began rushing through my veins. My eyes darted around the house, looking for a way out, a weapon, anything. There were knives in the kitchen and a canister of mace on my key chain by the front door, which was just beyond my grasp. My mace would be no match to his bullets, though.
“Now, son, you know I can’t let you just come into my house and hold us at gunpoint like this. I just won’t have it,” my father’s voice was clear and strong, with not a hint of fear in it.
“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do old man? Look at you! You’re a frail, weak, old man!” Lincoln said.
“Why are you doing this?” I pleaded. “Please just leave!”
“I will leave, Ruby. But not without you.”
“What! No! Lincoln, I hardly know you. Why are you doing this?”
“Because I can.”
“I’m sorry, son, but Ruby isn’t leaving with you,” my father replied, his voice steely and hard as he pushed me further behind him.
Lincoln took two steps forward, bringing his face mere inches from my father’s.
“What are you going to do about it, old man?” he sneered.
“You’re not taking my daughter,” my father insisted.
I jumped when I heard the gunshot. My father crumpled to the floor in front of me, and I screamed.
“No! Noooo!” I yelled, sinking to my knees. There was blood everywhere, I couldn’t tell where he was shot. His eyes were wide-eyed and he looked at me helplessly, as he tried to speak. No words came out, though. “Daddy!”
Lincoln’s cold hand snaked around my arm, pulling me up.
“Move!” he demanded, pressing the searing hot gun against my cheek, and pulling me out the front door. I tried fighting back, but I was drained, terrified, and weak. I struggled against him, not caring if he shot me, the sight of my bleeding father throwing me into shock.
“No!” I yelled, as he tried to push me into his car. He moved the gun away from my face for a second to grab me and I pushed against him and turned away to run.
He was right behind me, though.
“You bitch!” he yelled, pulling my hair. “I said, you’re coming with me!”
When his gun hit the back of my head, everything went black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Crit
Hank Haggard had called and invited me to dinner. I was hoping like hell he had some good news for me. Some kind of information that I could use against LaCroix, some kind of solution, because as hard as I had tried, I couldn’t come up with one myself.
I’d asked every one I knew for a loan at this point, swallowing my pride and telling half the folks in town my personal business. It hurt like hell to not only open up about things that I was taught to keep to myself, but to have to admit how clueless I was, not to mention that I was so broke I didn’t have two sticks to rub together. That hurt more than anything.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one, though. Every person I talked to had their own story of how they had gotten down on their luck. Times were hard, and when you lived in a town like Sugar Hill, there wasn’t a lot of money left over to fall back on.
Most people I knew were just one illness or lost job away from homelessness. I got offered a whole lot of pie and casseroles, though. Lots of labor offered up from the men, too. When it came to heart, we had an abundance of it. If you were in need of cash, you were shit out of luck.
I couldn’t bear to sell the horses. They were like family, and I didn’t even want to bring that up as an option. I loved them, but truth was they were just another mouth to feed and house. But still, I couldn’t let them go as much as I could let go of Jesse, or Seth.
When I got to the Haggards, Hank greeted me at the door with a strong pat on the back and a reassuring smile.
“Good to see you, son! How are you holding up, Crit?” he asked, following me through the door. The savory smell of pot roast led me right to the kitchen, where I gave his wife a kiss on the cheek.
“Dinner will be ready shortly. You just relax a few minutes, darlin’,” she said.
A wave of nostalgia washed over me, and I realized how much I truly missed my parents. They were my foundation, and now I was forced to be the rock for every one else now that they were gone. But I was left with nothing to lean on myself. A pang of sadness pierced my heart, and I pushed it away quickly.
“Would you like a beer?” Hank asked. He returned my grateful smile and handed me an ice cold bottle out of the fridge.
“Thanks,” I said, sitting down with him at the dining room table.
“So, any news from your friend in New York?” I asked. I couldn’t wait through a bunch of small talk. “Time’s a tickin’ and I’m gettin’ real antsy, Hank.”
“That’s why I wanted to see you, Crit. I talked to my buddy today. He told me some very interesting things about Lincoln LaCroix. He’s got quite the reputation of being a complete prick.”
“I’m not surprised by that,” I sa
id.
“My friend is still digging. He doesn’t know LaCroix personally, but he has friend’s in high places. He’s asking around. So far, all we have are rumors. And in addition to being one of the most arrogant pricks in the Big Apple, he’s also known as one of the shadiest. Lots of people have been burned in business transactions and refuse to work with him again. There’s even rumors of him being investigated by the IRS, but my friend wasn’t sure if that was just a rumor or not. He’s going to call me back as soon as he knows more.”
“Any idea why the IRS is investigating him?” I asked, a tiny spark of hope lighting up inside of me.
“He didn’t know. But he has a friend that works at the bureau. If LaCroix is in trouble, he’ll find out.”
“Thank you, Hank. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”
“I wish I could do more, Crit. I’m sorry you’re in this situation, son.”
“It’ll work out however it’s supposed to work out, I suppose.”
“Son,” Hank said, putting his hand on my shoulder and peering into my eyes. “Your parents would be so proud of you. The way you’ve taken care of everyone. Of the farm. The way you’re handling this now.”
His words should have been comforting, but they weren’t. I hadn’t handled jack shit. Not yet. Nothing was getting fixed. Every new thing I tried just ended up with me drinking my sorrows away till I slept myself drunk. And then I just kept getting up and doing it all over again.
“Thanks, Hank,” I said. What else was I going to say? Can I come live with you? Can my family come live with you? And our horses? How about all the farm hands I employ? Can you take them on, too?
I couldn’t say any of that. I was in this alone. The only way out was going to be if I talked some sense in Lincoln LaCroix myself somehow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Georgia
“Hey, Norma,” I said as she came around the corner of her counter to give me a hug. She smelled like peach pie, and it made me tempted to skip right to dessert. “Seen Ruby?”
“Ain’t seen hide nor hair of that girl today,” she replied. “Y’all meetin’ for dinner?”
“Sure are,” I replied.
“I’ll get you girls the special. Meatloaf tonight,” she said, as she followed me to my favorite booth in the back of the diner. Norma’s meatloaf was my favorite and Ruby and I had dinner here every week just so we could stuff ourselves full of it. Nobody in Sugar Hill made meatloaf like Norma did.
“You know it’s my favorite,” I said. I was surprised Ruby wasn’t here. She always beat me here every week, because Beau was always making me late. That man was hornier than a toad these days, always beggin’ me for just one more roll in the hay before I left, and then pulling me back for another. I didn’t mind, though. It was nice to be wanted. It was nice to be loved.
Everyone should feel this, I thought to myself. It made me sad to think that some people went their whole life without ever feeling that kind of love, that kind of passion, and closeness with another person.
Like Ruby. Like Crit. Hell, like all three of my brothers. I didn’t understand why everyone I loved was still single. They were all wonderful people, if not a little twisted, in their own ways.
Now that I was with Beau, I wanted everyone to be as deliriously happy as I was.
Norma brought over two sweet teas and the smell of peach pie made my mouth water. I had been craving sweets something awful lately, and nothing seemed to be sweet enough.
“I’m having dessert first, Norma. Can I have slice of your peach pie, please?”
She laughed and nodded.
“You’re a grown woman now, Georgia! All married and settled down. I reckon you can do as you damned well please!”
“I suppose I am, Norma,” I said, laughing with her, as she walked away.
Two slices of pie later, and Ruby still hadn’t showed up. I had texted her and called her, but she hadn’t responded at all. Her phone rang and rang until going to voice mail. It wasn’t like her not to answer, she kept that damned phone practically glued to her hip.
But Ruby had been doing a lot of things lately that weren’t like her. Like going out with that rich fella the other day. Once again, I wondered why she was single. She didn’t seem to be interested in any of the men around town that showed an interest in her, and then out of the blue she decides to go out with some stranger.
I mean, I guess I get it. He’s rich. That’s attractive. But he seemed so shallow and arrogant, and I picked that up just by looking at him. I had been waiting all week to hear how everything went on her date. And now she was late.
In all the time I had known her, she had never stood me up like this. When I started to feel the beginning of a knot in my stomach, I called her one last time, paid my bill, and got in my car to drive to her house.
CHAPTER THIRTY
CRIT
“That dinner was amazing,” I said, as Lora and their youngest son, Finn, cleared the dishes off of the table. “Thank you.”
“Oh, Crit, you are welcome here for dinner anytime! I miss your face. You’re so close and we still never see you.”
“I’ll make a point to stop by more often, Lora. Of course, I’ll end up gaining twenty pounds if I keep eating your delicious food.”
“Oh, stop!” she said. “You look like you could use a few anyway. You eating over there?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“He’s not a kid, Lora. He’s a grown ass man. He knows how to take care of himself,” Hank said.
“Well, I know that, Hank. But not all men know how to take care of themselves,” she replied, with a wink. “You’d be lost without me, and you know it.”
“That’s true, darlin’.”
I laughed at the two of them, and couldn’t help but think of my parents again. I’d probably never stop missing them, their easy laughter, the way they loved each other so strongly.
Hank’s phone rang and he walked into the other room to answer it, leaving me alone with Lora.
“Crit, you don’t have a lady friend?” she asked, as she began washing the dishes. I took a drink of my beer, Ruby’s pretty face flashing in my mind. For the life of me, I couldn't remember why I was keeping her a secret in the first place.
“I’ve been spending some time with Ruby, actually,” I replied. It felt good to say her name out loud.
“Ruby Rae? Oh, I just love that girl. I can see you two together,” she replied, nodding enthusiastically. “She’s a good girl, Crit.”
“She sure is,” I said. I sat another few minutes in silence, listening to the rise and fall of Hank’s voice in the other room, but I was unable to make out what he was saying. It felt good to tell someone about Ruby finally. I smiled to myself, thinking about our future together. As soon as I left her, I planned on calling her. I needed her near me tonight. The thought of spending another night without her in my arms was something I didn’t want to endure.
When Hank came back in, his eyes were lit up with excitement.
“Well, hot damn, Crit,” he said. “You might just catch a break here after all.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That was my friend from New York. Turns out, after digging around a bit, he found out that Lincoln LaCroix isn’t just being investigated by the IRS, but he’s about to be charged. It’s privileged information, but apparently they are raiding his office and apartment in New York right now.”
“Now? Seriously?”
“That’s what he said. He’s got a friend in the IRS, and when he started asking about it, the guy told him that Lincoln’s shit is hitting the fan.”
“That’s amazing. I wonder how this will effect the loan on the farm?”
“I have no idea. Might be best to contact Barnard Johnson, keep him in the loop.”
“I suppose so.”
“Is Lincoln still in town?” Hank asked.
“I don’t know.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out.
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“It’s Georgia,” I said, when I saw the caller ID.
“What’s up, sis?” I answered.
“Something’s wrong, Crit!” she hollered. She was crying, her voice frantic. My heart began pounding violently in my chest. “It’s Ruby! And her dad! He’s been shot!”
“What! Shot!” I jumped up from my chair. “Where are you? What are you talking about, Georgia?”
“I’m at Ruby’s trailer. She was supposed to have dinner with me,” she said, between sobs. “She didn’t show, so I drove over here. When I got here there was an ambulance and cops everywhere. The neighbor’s said they saw a man force Ruby into a car and drive away. When they came next door, they found her father lying in a pool of blood.”
“Fuck! Oh, my god!” The blood drained from my face, and I felt sick. What the hell was I supposed to do?
“Who took her? What kind of car?”
When she answered, I knew right away what I was dealing with.
“A black Mercedes! Crit, what do I do?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
RUBY
The slap woke me up.
“Wake up, bitch!”
As soon as I opened my eyes, throbbing pain tore through my skull. I moaned and grabbed my head, as I took in my surroundings.
“Where am I?” I asked, as I turned my head and looked straight into the barrel of Lincoln’s gun.
“The parking garage of the Four Seasons.”
“My father…” I whispered. Everything came rushing back to me, and my heart seized with fear.
“He’ll be fine. If not, you can thank me later.”
“You bastard!” I seethed. “Why are you doing this?”
“I’m in a bit of a pickle, you could say,” he replied, a sickly smile spreading across his face. “I need a little leverage.”
“What are you talking about, Lincoln?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, waving the gun around. “Just do as I say, and you won’t get hurt.”
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