The Sanders Saga

by N. C. Reed

  “After you demanded to meet her you mean?” Gordon asked, laughing.

  “Pretty much,” she agreed. “Mom sort of made an ultimatum, and he sort of rejected it.”

  “What did you expect?” Gordon asked his wife. “I told you to stop pressing him, Angela. He has his own set of priorities and you can't expect them to be the same as yours.”

  “I want to know who that is,” Angela resisted.

  “And you will. When he's ready for you to,” Gordon nodded.

  “He said we could meet her tomorrow,” Ally offered.

  “And you still made your demand?” Gordon asked. Angela nodded.

  “No wonder you got the door shut in your face,” he chuckled. “You two really take the cake once in a while,” he shook his head.

  “Hey, I was just along for the walk,” Alicia objected.

  “Sure you were.”

  -

  The next morning came early as there was a knock at Clay's door. He woke to the unfamiliar but pleasant sensation of a female body wrapped around his and smiled. Making up was almost worth the fight. Lainie woke as he tried to untangle himself from her.

  “What?”

  “Sorry, baby girl,” he whispered. “Someone at the door.”

  “Again?” she murmured.

  “It's morning, sweetheart,” he told her, kissing her jaw. He got up, pulling on a pair of sweats as he made his way to the door. He was surprised to see a FedEx truck in front of the house, the driver at his door.

  “Clayton Sanders?” the driver asked.

  “Yeah,” Clay nodded.

  “Most of this truck is for you,” the man told him, pointing. “Where do you want it?”

  “What did they order?” Clay muttered. “Can you put it in that trailer?” he pointed to his pull behind. “I don't have room in the basement at the moment. I 'll move it tomorrow.”

  “Sure,” the man took his pad back and moved back down to the truck where a helper waited. Soon the two were packing his trailer to the gills with whatever the twins had ordered.

  “I did tell them to get what they wanted,” he rubbed his face. “That might have been a mistake.”

  Next was a phone call.

  “Clayton Sanders?” the voice asked.

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “Virgil McKee, TranState trucking. I have a delivery for you and was told to call when we arrived at the gate. We're at the gate now.”

  “We?” Clay asked.

  “There's three trucks,” the man replied. “And we've got the road obstructed, sitting here,” he added.

  “I 'll be there in five minutes,” he promised, hanging up.

  “Who was that?” Lainie asked, toweling her hair as she came from the shower.

  “Delivery driver sitting over the gate to the old Troy play,” he told her. “I have to go and let them in. They've got the road partly blocked.”

  “Give me two minutes and I 'll go with,” she said, hurrying back to the bedroom.

  Six minutes after the call Clay was opening the gate, allowing three semis into the grounds. He had sent a text to the twins, and now he got a reply on where the contents should go.

  “Building three,” he pointed to a large metal structure with a giant black '3' on the side.

  “Is there a lift?” the first driver asked.

  “Yes,” Clay remembered finally. “Key should be in it.”

  “Good deal,” the driver nodded.

  “Well, this place is something,” Lainie mentioned, looking at the huge operation. “Who owns all this?”

  “My father leases the land for his cattle right now,” Clay temporized. “And the crop land, too. Used to belong to a friend of the family but he died a while back and his son sold out. Guess he's in Florida or somewhere now,” he shrugged.

  “So who owns it now?” she asked him, eyebrow raised.

  “I do,” he admitted softly. There was no reaction for a minute as what he had said registered.

  “What?” she was stunned.

  “I bought it when I got home,” he told her. “It was for sale when I got here, so I bought it. I needed the room, and at the time I was planning on doing everything on my own, so I needed a place to work, and for some friends, assuming they come here when things get bad. So, I bought it,” he repeated.

  “I know better than to ask,” she said hesitantly, “but where does a soldier come up with the money to buy a place like this?”

  “Sure you want to know?” he asked her. “Might make you reconsider,” he admitted.

  “I'm not going to reconsider, Cowboy,” she told him firmly. “I never did, if you'll remember. I handled things badly, I admit, but I didn't reconsider. If you want me to know you can tell me, but if you'd rather not, that's perfectly fine.”

  “I stole it,” he said simply. “Actually I'd consider it more spoils of war than anything,” he amended after a few seconds. “I tracked down an African warlord and his henchmen, killed them, and then stole his stockpile of loot. Split it among my men and with a remote village that had been attacked, probably because they had been nice to us.”

  “Ooh-kay,” Lainie nodded carefully, but didn't say anything else.

  “That's it?” Clay asked her.

  “What am I supposed to say to that?” she made a gesture with her hands out to her sides, palms up. “My boyfriend owns a big farm. He's an outlaw. Obviously takes after his grandfather,” she snorted.

  “Leon said that too,” Clay chuckled. “Sure you wanna stick with me now?”

  “I told you I wasn't going to reconsider,” she said flatly. “I don't care what you did, or where you did it. Don't care who you did it to, either. As long as you're good to me, that's really all I care about,” she admitted. “And you're very good to me,” she hugged him. “I love you, Clay,” she looked up at him.

  It was the first time either of them had said it. She hadn't really intended to say it here out in the middle of nowhere, but it just felt right and she said it without considering anything like that.

  “I love you too, Lainie,” he replied softly. “I missed you,” he kissed her softly.

  “You won't miss me anymore,” she promised.

  -

  It was time to beard the lion.

  “We don't have to do this now,” Clay told her again as the two walked toward his parent's home.

  “Might as well,” she shrugged, tugging her shirt down and making sure nothing was on it. “It's not going to go away, Clay,” she smiled at him.

  “No, but we still don't have to do it now,” he repeated. It was early evening and his mother had invited them to supper with her and Gordon. Just the two of them, she promised.

  “There's no reason not to,” Lainie told him, squeezing his hand. “Besides, I have to meet her sooner or later if I'm going to be with her baby boy from now on,” she added, teasing.

  Gordon let them in the back door.

  “Mister Sanders,” Lainie nodded.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Gordon said pointedly, winking. Lainie caught on.

  “It's a pleasure to meet you as well,” she smiled.

  “I'm Angela Sanders,” Clay's mother moved in at once.

  “Mrs. Sanders,” Lainie nodded, taking the offered hand. “I'm Lainie Harper.”

  “Harper,” Angela's eyes narrowed. “That name sounds familiar. Who are your parents?”

  “For God's sake,” Clay sighed. “Right in the door, Mom?”

  “It's a legitimate question,” Angela objected.

  “Come on,” he told Lainie. “We're leaving.”

  “You are not!” Angela exclaimed. “I've made an excellent supper!”

  “And started in on us before we even sat down,” Clay nodded. “I warned you, too.”

  “Clay,” Lainie said gently. “Remember what I said.”

  For a minute she was sure he was going to challenge her, but then he nodded. Lainie looked back to Angela.

  “My parents were Lonnie and Loretta Jones Har
per,” she replied calmly.

  “Were?” Angela raised an eyebrow.

  “My father left when I was five, and I haven't seen or spoken to my mother since I was fourteen,” she answered.

  “Then who raised you?” Angela asked without any shame at all.

  “My grandmother helped, but mostly I was raised by women who helped girls like me get away from abusive situations,” Lainie replied evenly. “When I was eighteen I moved to Nashville to get an education and I've been there ever since.”

  “Can we at least sit down?” Clay asked testily. “I mean after we get inside, of course,” he added scathingly.

  “Yes, of course,” his mother had the grace to look embarrassed finally. “Please, do come in. Supper is on the table.”

  They settled in and Gordon said grace. Food was dished and eating begun before Angela started in again.

  “What do you do, Miss Harper?” Angela asked.

  “Please, just Lainie,” the younger woman smiled. “I manage a night club, Mrs. Sanders. I have an associates degree in business management. I actually just became the owner in fact,” she added.

  “A night club?” Angela looked as if she'd bitten into something sour. “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” Lainie smiled again. “The original owner was a friend of my grandmother's and knew my situation so when I was old enough to work, he gave me a job as a waitress, and a safe place to stay where my mother's boyfriend couldn't reach me. I was safe and had a way to make a living, so I've stayed there all my adult life until recently when I met your son,” she looked at Clay with shining eyes. “I left the only safe place I've ever really known for him,” she admitted.

  “I find it hard to believe that a nightclub could be a safe place,” Angela was clearly disdainful. “What kind of life is that for a girl?”

  “It has given me a good life, Mrs. Sanders,” Lainie assured her. “I have an education, a car, a stock portfolio that is worth a good deal at the moment, a retirement fund, and now a night club. Despite how things started for me, they have turned out pretty well. And gotten better of late,” she added, laying her head over on Clay's shoulder for a second.

  “Well,” Angela clearly didn't like anything she had heard in the last few minutes. “Surely there was somewhere else you could have gone.”

  “Where?” Lainie asked her pointedly. “Where would you have had me go?”

  “There are shelters that-”

  “I was much better off with the women who raised me than I would have been in any shelter,” Lainie shook her head. “They were kind and treated me kindly. Taught me to be respectful of others and that I had worth of my own. That what had happened to me wasn't my fault, and that nothing was wrong with me, though I'd be told all my life there was. No shelter would have done that.”

  “Afterward, I was eighteen and an adult,” she continued. “I was determined not to be a burden on anyone, and I never have been. I've paid my own way for everything I have, everything I've ever had in fact. I am beholden only to two people and to the women they entrusted me to as a child, and for them I would do pretty much anything. Just as I would for your son,” she added, her voice ringing with finality.

  “And I think that's quite enough of that,” Gordon said from the head of the table, never looking up. “It sounds as if you've worked hard and made a good life for yourself Miss Harper. Lainie,” he amended before she could insist. “Good for you,” he raised his tea glass in salute.

  “Thank you Mister Sanders,” she blushed slightly. “I appreciate that.”

  Angela clearly wanted to say more but Gordon had put the kibosh on that for now. She didn't like the way Clay was openly smirking at her across the table, either, but she knew that he would get up and leave if she pressed him. Still, there was one other thing she decided she could safely ask.

  “How long will you be down for, Miss Harper,” she asked, refusing to call her Lainie.

  “I don't know yet,” Lainie replied. “For all I know, I won't ever leave,” she admitted, smiling up at Clay, who smiled back at her.

  “Oh, really?” Angela raised an eyebrow that seemed to say we'll see about that.

  “Really,” Lainie nodded. No, you won't.

  -

  “Hi Uncle Clay,” the twins said in unison as he and Lainie got back to his house. Their golf cart was sitting in his front yard.

  “Stop. Doing. That.” Clay told them, though he didn't really mind. It was more for form than any real desire for them to stop.

  “I think it's cute,” Lainie bumped him with her hip. “Hi guys,” she smiled.

  “Hi Aunt Lainie,” the two replied, shocking her.

  “Aunt Lainie?” she asked, though she didn't object.

  “Just practicing,” Leanne shrugged. “Besides, it sounds right,” she added.

  “Yeah, it does,” Leon the Deuce agreed, still looking at the Chevelle.

  “My trailer is full of stuff that was delivered today,” Clay told them. “That what you're here for?”

  “Yes,” they nodded.

  “Well, go ahead,” he nodded. “And those three trucks were unloaded where you wanted them. What was in there anyway?”

  “The rest of the solar equipment and some more batteries,” Deuce told him. “Also some vitamin supplements and things like that. And a lot of medical stuff that we could get without Aunt Pat's help.”

  “What else is there?” Clay asked. “Or are we done?”

  “We're done as far as we know,” Leanne admitted, trying to open a box. “We have to see what the others say. Aunt Pat and Uncle Robert especially.”

  “Here,” Clay handed her his pocket knife.

  “Thanks!” she took it and slit the paper tape on the box before passing it to Deuce who did the same.

  Clay and Lainie spent the rest of the early evening watching and helping the twins open their rewards for a job well done.

  “Don't you guys have school tomorrow?” he asked finally.

  “No,” they answered together. “Teacher's work day,” Deuce added.

  “Hm,” Clay nodded. “Well, would you guys like to go shooting tomorrow?”

  “Yes!”

  -

  A phone the call the next morning found Gordy also out of school, and since it was a Wednesday, there would be no practice, thus he eagerly agreed to go. Abigail was off work and decided to tag along, mostly because she knew Lainie would be there.

  She had gotten the name from her mother, who had gotten if from her mother less than ten minutes after Clay and Lainie had departed the night before. A nightclub owner and manager, her mother had said, shaking her head sadly.

  Gordy had ridden his four-wheeler to Clay's, his rifle stored in a scabbard on the side. Abigail had a similar rig and followed with her own rifle.

  Clay was just finishing up loading the back of his four seat side-by-side when they arrived. The twins were already in the back seat, safely strapped in and ready to go. Abigail was just about to ask where Clay's 'girlfriend' was when a beautiful redhead came out the front door, closing it behind her as she came down the steps.

  “Lainie, this is my nephew Gordy,” Clay introduced.

  “The linebacker,” Lainie smiled, shaking his hand. “I've heard good things about you.”

  “Thanks,” Gordy smiled. “It's nice to meet you. Nice car by the way,” he had to add. Lainie laughed.

  “Thanks,” she told him. “I think all the Sanders' boys have liked her so far.”

  “And my niece Abigail,” Clay continued.

  “Hi,” Lainie nodded, also shaking Abby's hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you finally,” Abby nodded in return, gripping Lainie's hand a bit too hard. Lainie just returned it, smiling as she did so. Abby was the one to give way, surprised that the other woman's grip was greater.

  “All right,” Clay hadn't missed that but let it lie. Lainie had said she could take care of herself. “Let's get going. Load up!” Lainie took the passenger seat with
him while Abby and Gordy climbed back on their bikes and soon all of them were on their way.

  The 'range' was on the back side of the Sanders' property, a hillside that bordered a large plot of state forest with little to no risk of anyone beyond the berm being injured. Standing targets had been erected and stood against the backdrop of dirt and scrub trees, and a small utility shed held targets, staple guns and other accessories needed for a day of fun at the range.

  The twins had been shooting before and basic instruction wasn't really needed, but Clay had something different in mind today so he took the time to go over everything with all four of the younger members of the Sanders clan. Satisfied that he'd done a good job, he opened the first gun case and removed an M-4.

  “Hot dang!” Gordy whopped at once, slapping his leg. “Are we gonna get to shoot that?” he asked excitedly.

  “We all are,” Clay nodded. “Hold this,” he handed the rifle to Leanne, who took it carefully and held it at port arms. Clay removed another, identical to the first, and handed it to Leon.

  “Wow,” Gordy said. “Awesome.” Each rifle had holographic sights as well as iron, and rails decorated the forearm and top allowing for the addition of accessories of choice. Clay produced a magazine he had pre-loaded the night before.

  “Ten rounds,” he told them both. “Watch what I do,” he took the rifle from Leon and inserted the magazine, tapped the bottom to make sure it was seated, then pulled the charging handle, allowing it to snap back and load the rifle. He slapped the forward assist to make sure the bolt was set.

  “Once you do this, the rifle is set to go,” he told everyone. “Now, one at a time, let's have you each do it. Leanne, you've got a rifle, so you first,” he ejected the magazine from the rifle in his hands and passed it to her.

  She fumbled only slightly as she slid the magazine home, tapping it carefully.

  “Harder,” Clay told her. “You won't break it. Smack it good.” She did so, hitting the bottom of the magazine with her palm.

  “Better,” Clay nodded. “Go on.”

  She worked the bolt as he'd shown her, checking the safety, then tapped the forward assist as he had, to make sure of the bolt's seat.

  “Good job,” he nodded. “Now, unload it,” he ordered. Having watching him earlier, Leanne had no trouble repeating his motions as she first dropped the magazine and then ejected the round that was in the chamber.