Fighting for Farmington: Destruction is Inevitable (Harmony Series Book 2)

by JR Thompson

  The boy knew no fear. Picking up his glass of water, he splashed it on Titus’s chest before throwing the small amount of food he had left. Scottie bolted from the room and Brock jumped up to go after him. In the process, his ankle twisted and he came crashing to the ground. Wouldn’t you know it? Just about that time, the doorbell rang.

  “Who could that be?” Brock grumbled, getting up and hobbling toward the living room, followed closely by both Victoria and Titus.

  Peering through the peephole, Brock turned to face his family with a slight glint of amusement on his face.

  “Who is it?” Victoria whispered.

  “Titus, why don’t you answer the door?” Brock suggested.

  Titus stood perfectly still for a moment, waiting for an explanation. When none came, he answered, “Okaaayyyy,” dragging out the word for effect.

  The seventeen-year-old knew he should have looked through the peephole for himself, but he didn’t. He opened the door and lo and behold there in front of him stood the one and only girl of his dreams, Ericka. She wasn’t alone; she brought her father along.

  “Did we interrupt a food fight?” Ericka laughed, glancing at the food and water all over them.

  What horrible timing, Titus realized. Of all times to stop by, why now?

  “Confessions are probably unnecessary at this point,” Brock replied. “How can we help you?”

  “Can we come in?” Ericka’s father asked.

  “Please do,” Victoria replied. “Would you like a glass of water?”

  “Uh,” Ericka gulped, catching another glimpse of Titus’s drenched shirt and then snickering. “No, I’m under the impression we’d better pass. Thanks for the offer though.”

  The party of five meandered into the living room and took a seat. “I don’t suppose we’ve ever been formally introduced,” Brock spoke.

  “No, we haven’t,” Ericka’s father replied. “I’m Jim and this, as you probably already know, is my daughter, Ericka.”

  “I’m Brock, this is my wife, Victoria, and the guy who’s drooling all over his shoes over here is Titus.”

  Titus tried not to allow his face to color, but he couldn’t help it.

  “Guys, the reason we stopped by is to apologize on behalf of my son. Steve tends to act impulsively. He is hugely protective of his sister and it doesn’t take much to set him off.”

  “Where’s Steve now?” Victoria asked.

  “Right now, I believe he’s having a psychiatric evaluation performed. I’m not sure what will happen from here. We’re playing somewhat of a waiting game.”

  Ericka nudged her father with her elbow, clearly hinting about something.

  Jim, pretending to have no idea what she was getting at, continued speaking. “We’ve tried everything with that boy over the years. Placed him in counseling, had him put on a whole slew of mood stabilizers, enrolled him in an alternative school, taken away all of his privileges at home, provided him with incentives for doing right… he’s as stubborn as a mule.”

  Ericka cleared her throat and shot her dad another suggestive look, obviously tired of waiting for him to spit something else out.

  Jim didn’t cooperate. “But this girl here’s another story. She’s the total opposite of her brother. Always follows the rules. Loves reading her Bible. Enjoys serving God any way that she can. Ericka’s a sweetheart. Never gives her mother or me any trouble whatsoever. Never even had a boyfriend.”

  “Daddy,” Ericka laughed, nudging him with her elbow again.

  “Okay, sugar,” Jim said, turning to Brock. “After talking to my dad, my wife, and my daughter I have concluded that I am willing to allow my daughter and your son to have the opportunity to get better acquainted. If you’re okay with it, I am officially giving my permission for the two of them to start talking on the telephone.”

  Brock’s countenance was taken over by an ornery expression. “I don’t know,” he claimed. “I’m not sure if lover-boy here is knowledgeable of his numerals yet. He might not possess enough intelligence to call her.”

  Even though Titus had a great sense of humor, he didn’t find the situation even the slightest bit amusing. “Really, Brock?... Seriously… is it okay with you?”

  “Sure, bud. It’s okay. Just don’t violate my trust.”

  “I hate to be the party pooper here,” Victoria interjected. “But what about Steve? I don’t want Titus to cause divisions in your family. If Steve can’t accept the fact that Ericka and Titus are getting better acquainted with one another, I’m not so sure this is a sensible plan.”

  The enthusiasm drained from Titus’s face. What is she saying?

  “To be frank with you, Steve is never going to accept Titus, nor anyone else for that matter. He is an immensely untrusting young man who doesn’t like anybody. Somehow, the boy’s going to have to learn how to let go. We’ll do everything in our power to keep him from interfering in their relationship.”

  Relationship? Titus liked the sound of that. I was of the understanding we were just gonna be talkin’ on the phone... A relationship? Oh yeah!

  “What about the other part, Dad?”

  “Oh, you mean the embarrassing stories about you I haven’t told yet? Well, let’s see here,” he chuckled before making eye contact with Titus. “A couple of years ago…”

  “Dad!!!” Ericka laughed. “Stop it already!”

  “Okay, okay. Ericka’s interested in joining your building crew if you’re willing to put up with her. I grant you my word, she’s a hard worker and I bet she can out-work anybody else on the crew.”

  I doubt that, Titus pondered. No girl can out-work me. Besides I’m the master of winning bets.

  “We’ll accept all of the aid we are offered,” Brock agreed.

  “Wonderful,” Jim said. “And so we’re all on the same page, I have made it clear to my daughter that if she’s going to work on the crew, she is not going to be taking advantage of her position to flirt with Titus. She’s there to be used of the Lord and to give something back to the community. She can flirt on her own time.”

  “I concur,” Brock replied. “I’ll ensure the two of them stay as far apart as is feasible while we’re at the work site.”

  24: Mr. Attitude

  One would suspect the Pearson household would have noticed how quiet Scottie was during their meeting with Ericka and her father. Somehow that tiny little detail had not entered anyone’s mind — not until their company left anyway.

  Victoria headed toward the restroom. On the way there, she noticed the door to Scottie’s bedroom was closed. For her, that was a red flag. Attempting to enter his room, she found he had locked the door. After giving it a few hard knocks, she hollered, “SCOTTIE, I NEED YOU TO OPEN THE DOOR PLEASE.”

  With no answer, she knocked again — much harder than before. “Scottie, open this door or I’m gonna ask your dad to get the paddle.”

  Not a sound escaped from his room. Hearing the commotion, Brock and Titus entered the hall. “What’s transpiring?” Brock asked.

  “Scottie’s decided to barricade himself in his room. He won’t unlock the door and refuses to even speak to me.”

  Titus grinned. “SOMEBODY’S GONNA HAVE TROUBLE SITTIN’ DOWN TONIGHT,” he roared, in hopes of getting a reaction out of Scottie.

  No response came.

  Brock was quickly becoming agitated. “Open this door or I’m busting it down,” he demanded.

  Fifteen seconds later, he made a fist and began pummeling the door with all of his might. Being no match for Brock, it came off its hinges in no time. Instead of hiding a defiant teen, however, it had been concealing a different scene altogether. The window was ajar and Scottie was unaccounted for.

  “Scottie, where are you?” Victoria asked loudly, whipping his closet door open. No Scottie there.

  Titus checked under the bed — nothing but a smelly assortment of dirty clothes.

  Before heading out to find him, Brock slid Scottie’s window shut and locked it. He, his wife
, and Titus combed the house from top to bottom to make sure Scottie wasn’t playing a rebellious form of hide-and-seek. Once they determined he was not in the house, they made sure every door and window was locked up tight before heading out to search for him. The last thing they were going to do was return home to find him sitting on the couch enjoying his alone time.

  Brock, Victoria, and Titus split up and searched the entire area for over an hour without finding a trace of him. “What if he didn’t run away? What if a kidnapper snatched him?” Victoria asked as fear began to cloud her judgment.

  Titus sported a playful smile. Speaking slowly, he asked, “What if he… killed himself?”

  Victoria scowled. “That’s not funny,” she scolded. “Where could he be? We’ve searched everywhere!”

  Brock called Collin. “Have you caught a glimpse of Scottie perchance?”

  “We sure haven’t. Everything okay?” Collin asked.

  “No. He departed again and we can’t locate him.”

  Collin hollered and asked Alayna and Remmy if they had seen or heard from Scottie. He wasn’t too surprised when both insisted they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him.

  “We’ll join you in the search and we’ll give you a ring if we find him,” Collin offered.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “Oh, one more thing. If we find him and he tries to run, do you want us to call you or you would prefer we physically drag him back to you?”

  “It is imperative for him to come home. Do whatever it takes,” Brock asserted.

  Victoria decided to take the car further into town in case he had hitched a ride somewhere. She asked Brock and Titus to continue combing the immediate neighborhood and promised to check in with them within thirty minutes.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Tears welled up in Victoria’s eyes as she drifted out of the driveway. Her little boy meant the world to her and she hated what he was becoming. Inwardly, she blamed Brock. When a boy accused him of cannibalism in the past, he took off. Vanished without a trace. It was also Brock who had made the decision to take Titus in — a known runaway who had probably planted the idea of taking off in Scottie’s head. Her husband was ruining her son and it seemed there was nothing she could do about it.

  Rounding a bend, Victoria thought she caught sight of a dumpster lid slamming shut. Hoping with everything in her that Scottie had climbed into the garbage bin to hide, she pulled her car off to the side of the road, jumped out, and rushed to the container. Pounding on the side, she thundered, “SCOTTIE? Come out of there! It’s Mommy.”

  She waited a whole three seconds before flipping the lid open. The dumpster was filled to the brim, but there was no sign of her baby. Discouraged, she made her way to back to the car where she fell apart at the seams. The tears were no longer welling up in her eyes. They were staining her face and soaking her shirt. “Why, God? Why couldn’t he have been in that dumpster? Why did you let me get my hopes up for nothing?”

  It took Victoria at least ten minutes to regain her composure enough to start the car and continue searching. She was still crying, but not so exuberantly that her entire body was shuddering. Driving around several more blocks without seeing any signs of him, she began to think the worst.

  What if those people were right? What if my family is in danger because of the ministry we’re directing? I haven’t even told Brock what I know. If something happened to Scottie and I could have prevented it by sharing information with my husband — “No, God! Please, no! That would be too much for me to bear. If something happened to Scottie, I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

  After another round of searching, Victoria headed back to the house in anticipation of finding a miracle.

  When she arrived, she was thankful to see Collin’s car there. The Russells must’ve found him, she told herself, wiping the tears from her face.

  Titus met her at the car with a spark in his eyes. “Scottie’s safe, but he’s about to get it good.”

  “Where was he?” Victoria asked, quickly making her way to the house.

  “About a block away from Collin’s Shoe Store I assume. I guess Collin told him to get in the car and he bolted. Collin parked, chased him down, and dragged him back to the car kickin’ and screamin’. Alayna had to drive over here cause Scottie kept tryin’ to jump out and Collin pinned him down so he couldn’t move.”

  What on earth has gotten into that kid? Victoria asked herself as she marched inside to find Brock firmly holding Scottie down on his lap. It looked incredibly awkward, but at least there was no chance of him running off — not for the time being anyway.

  “He alleges he departed immediately after throwing his temper tantrum at the table,” Brock told her.

  “Where’d you go?” Victoria asked coldly.

  “Nowhere really — just loafed around,” Scottie claimed.

  “Why? What were your plans?”

  “I didn’t have any. Just needed some time away. That’s all.”

  “So you’re of the opinion it’s okay to leave this house anytime you feel like it? Something terrible could’ve happened to you!”

  “You wouldn’t have cared,” Scottie mumbled.

  “If that was the case, then why was I out hunting for you for the last hour and a half?”

  “I don’t know. Probably so you wouldn’t be considered such a bad parent if the police found me.”

  Brock tightened his grip on Scottie’s arms. “Cease conversing with your mother in such a disrespectful tone, young man.”

  “You’re hurting me. Let go!” Scottie ordered.

  Brock let go alright — but only for a second. He raised his right hand and brought his open palm swiftly down on Scottie’s thigh. “DO NOT tell me what to do and DO NOT backtalk your mother or I ANYMORE!” he scolded, while re-gripping his son’s arm.

  “That’s child abuse!” Scottie hollered. “You just hit me! That’s illegal!”

  “Titus, go to my room and retrieve the paddle, please,” Brock stated firmly.

  “My pleasure,” Titus replied, almost chuckling as he watched Brock force Scottie to bend over his knee.

  Scottie tried to wiggle his way free, but Brock wasn’t having it. He held him down in such a fashion that Scottie knew he had been had. “Okay, I’ll behave. I’m sorry,” he whined.

  “You’re unquestionably correct about that, bud,” Brock warned as Titus returned with the paddle in hand.

  “Can I say something?” Remington asked as Brock took the board of correction.

  “What’s that?” Brock asked.

  “I’ve learned that spankings hurt a lot more when they’re all given on the same cheek.”

  “I’ll etch that in my memory,” Brock agreed, not sure how else to respond to such a statement.

  Brock brought the paddle down hard. “That was my leg!” Scottie yelled.

  “That was your behind and you know it!” Brock argued, swatting him a second time in the exact same spot. “You will assuredly learn to behave. I bet Remington’s never ran away in his life. He would never even consider treating his parents the way you treat us.”

  There was a lot Scottie wanted to say back, but he was in an exceptionally vulnerable position. He glanced over at Titus who was busy trying to hide the smirk on his face. Without warning, Brock delivered him another swat. That was three on the right cheek. Titus’s grin turned into a full-fledged smile when he saw the grimace on Scottie’s face. Scottie turned to face the floor but didn’t say a word. He did his best to stifle the groans that seemed to be spewing out of his lips involuntarily.

  After two more swats, Brock laid the paddle down, but kept Scottie across his lap. “Now we’re going to converse and you will show us some respect or else.”

  A forty-five-minute discussion ensued about obedience, gratefulness, maturity, and safety. Not to mention the frequent reminders Scottie was provided about how he was so much worse behaved than Remmy and about how much he could learn from him.

  Before h
e was allowed up, Collin added his two cents worth as well. “I’ll tell you one thing, Scottie. You had better be glad you’re not my son. I would tan your behind all day, every day if I had to. I would fathom your dad here is getting super close to that point and to be honest, I hope he gets there sooner rather than later. Your dad’s right — Remington is much better behaved than you are. That’s because my wife and I have never allowed him to get away with anything. Remmy is very trustworthy whereas you can barely be trusted to tie your own shoes.”

  Somehow, Scottie managed to keep himself quiet throughout all of the lectures he received, no matter how he felt about what was being said. Something about being held down across Dad’s lap even helped him promise never to run away or sneak out of the house again — no matter what.

  25: He Couldn’t Have

  Around 6 am Monday morning the doorbell rang several times and someone frantically pounded on the door. Brock jumped out of bed, grabbed a baseball bat, and ran to the living room. Peering through the peephole, he saw Alayna and fury was written all over her face.

  Opening the door, Brock started to ask her what was wrong, but Alayna didn’t permit him a chance to speak. “WHERE IS HE?” she shouted.

  “To whom are you referring?”

  “Scottie… Who else?”

  “Scottie?... What’s the matter?... Alayna, are you okay?”

  “He… lit… the shoe store… on… fire. It burned all the way to the ground! WHERE’S YOUR SON?”

  “Oh, Alayna!” Brock exclaimed. “I find it incomprehensible that someone would do that to you folks. I’m—”

  Alayna’s eyes grew wider than saucers. “WHERE… IS… HE?”

  “He’s still in bed, but I assure you Scottie had nothing to do with this. He’s been here all night.”