Barking Up the Wrong Tree

by Sawyer Bennett

  My eyes scan the crowd, and a distinct bubbling up of fondness for my community starts low in my belly. It looks like the entire town is here.

  The entire Mancinkus brood minus Mama are standing around Pap as he sits on his barstool. Colt, Trixie, Lowe, Larkin, and Daddy all have beers in hands. I don’t see Ry, which means he’s probably commuting back from Raleigh, but Mely is there with her arm around Lowe’s waist.

  And the resident county judge, Winston Bowe, sits beside Pap on what is typically Trixie’s stool, but I know she gave it up in deference to the esteemed judge who has on two occasions actually thrown her in jail for contempt. It’s all good sport between them, though.

  I see Floyd from the hardware store, Billy from the grocery, and Jason from the gas station/wine shop. Della who owns the bookstore on the square and Pap’s crush, Mary-Margaret. There’s Muriel who owns Central café, and Sissy from over at Lady Marmalade’s. All the business owners surrounding town square are here to show support to Pap.

  I find myself to be extremely touched, and I have one of those rare moments in my life where I am grateful Cam drove me away and back home. This is where I’m supposed to be because what more could I ever want than this?

  I push my way through the crowd, nodding at a few people. As I get closer to the bar and move my way around Floyd’s hulking form, my breath catches as I see Jake sitting on the barstool next to Judge Bowe. They’re having what appears to be an animated conversation, and I’m dying to know what it is about.

  But first things first.

  I nudge my way past Lowe and Mely and walk right up to Pap. He’s not one for overt physical affection and he prefers to show his love in the form of blunt advice on how you could be screwing your life up, but I don’t let that stop me. I put my arms around his shoulders and give him a hard hug.

  He awkwardly pats my arm while muttering to me, “There, there, Laken. It’s good. I’m good.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not,” I whisper in his ear. “But I’ll be brave for you.”

  When I pull away, he turns his head and I see pride in his eyes. “I know you will.”

  Pap then turns and yells out to Sam-Pete. “My granddaughter needs a beer.”

  Sam-Pete gives a chin lift of acknowledgment, and I give Pap a quick kiss on the cheek before I head for Jake. As I walk past Colt, he circles an arm around my neck, pulls me in, and kisses the top of my head. We siblings have never had a problem showing affection. Of course, we never had a problem beating the crap out of each other on occasion, too, but whatever.

  When Colt releases me, I make my way to Jake to find him standing from his stool to offer it to me. I didn’t know he realized I was here, but it also warms me to know he does. I take the seat and nod at Judge Bowe, “Evenin’.”

  He must see some of the tension and worry still etched on my face that I just can’t seem to get rid of, which causes him to lean toward me. “You keep that chin up. Your ol’ Pap is going to be just fine. He’s going to outlive everyone in this town.”

  I nod, another lump in my throat ignored, and lean forward to look past Judge Bowe to Pap. He’s telling an old story I’ve heard dozens of times about his days as a drill instructor for the Marine Corps. It involves a time when he had been on leave for a few weeks, and when he came back to Parris Island, he did so intentionally and in cahoots with his fellow drill instructors to become a plant in the crop of new recruits. He’d let his hair and mustache grow out long and came in on the bus with a bunch of other young wannabe marines.

  For three days, he lived in the barracks and pretended to be a new recruit, and he intentionally kept screwing up. The drill instructors—who mind you were in on this plan—berated him ruthlessly in front of the other recruits. On day four, Pap was brought out in front of the entire platoon and was told that if he screwed up one more time, they were going to kill him.

  And, of course… he screwed up one more time according to plan.

  That night, the drill instructors came into the barracks in the dark of the night and woke up the entire platoon by banging their batons against tin garbage cans. They rounded up sleepy, disoriented recruits and marched them into the back alley that was only lit by the moonlight. They brought Pap along both blindfolded and with his hands cuffed behind his back.

  In front of the entire platoon, the drill instructors made it clear that they were tired of his screw-ups and it was time for him to die. They placed him in front of a wall, pulled out their pistols, and in the dark gloominess, they shot several rounds into Pap—which were obviously blanks. He collapsed to the ground with great dramatic effect while horrified recruits watched on.

  The drill instructors then calmly picked up Pap’s lifeless body and threw him into the nearest dumpster. They then marched the recruits back to bed, and there was no mistaking the fact that if you screwed up in the Marine Corps, well… they killed you.

  Pap chortled, and everyone laughed when he ended the story, “That was the best-behaved platoon of recruits that we ever had.”

  I shake my head, not letting the smile come to my face that normally does when he tells that story. He was a rotten stinker, and he’s still that way today.

  Sam-Pete slides my beer in front of me but before I can even pick it up, Jake’s leaning into my space by putting an elbow on the bar top right by my beer, forcing me to look up at him.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I turn and shoot another glance at Pap, who has launched into another story, before looking back to Jake. “I don’t know how he does that. Gets a cancer diagnosis and within a few hours, he’s drinking and laughing like nothing’s wrong.”

  “It’s how he’s coping,” Jake says. “We all do it differently.”

  “Well, I know that,” I say with just enough sarcasm that Jake laughs at me. “But it’s weird.”

  “All depends on how you look at it,” Jake says as he glances down the bar at Pap. “He’s eighty-one, had a hell of a life already, and he got a cancer diagnosis that isn’t great but it’s not the worst it could be. He feels he’s meant to tackle this head-on and with chin up.”

  “How do you know that?” I ask curiously, my head tilting slightly to await his answer.

  “Because I was in here having a beer with him when he got the call from the doctor with the results. I sat beside him while he called your parents with the news, and asked them to impart it to the kids. And his exact words were, ‘I don’t want anyone worrying over this. It’s going to be fine. They’ll cut that bugger out, and I’ll be right as rain.’ Then he ordered another beer and bought me one, too.”

  This time as I’m shaking my head, the smile that comes to my face is filled with nothing but fondness and gratitude that I have a Pap who is so strong, so pragmatic, and so determined that I can’t help but believe in this moment that he’s going to beat this thing.

  I turn to look at him one more time past Judge Bowe, who is now engaged in an animated conversation with him about the Battle of Iwo Jima of all things. I want to talk to him and learn more details, but now isn’t the time. He’s in his element. He’s got practically the whole town here to rally for support around him and he’s eating it up.

  As well he should.

  “Why were you here having a beer with Pap?” I ask Jake, because that’s certainly odd.

  Jake shrugs. “Got my work finished, MG was fed and happy, and I thought I’d come into town to see you. Decided to just stop in here first, and we got to talking. Then the call came. I knew you’d be showing up sooner or later.”

  I make a humming sound of acknowledgment in my throat and take a sip from my beer. After I swallow, I decide to throw caution to the wind. Turning on my stool so I can look Jake in the face, I say, “My mom’s going to do a family dinner tomorrow night and she passed along an invitation to you.”

  “I know,” Jake says, and my eyebrows pop up high on my forehead. He laughs and says, “Your dad invited me when he got here a little bit ago.”

  “Oh,” I say dis
tractedly as I look down at my beer. Why would Daddy do that unless he thought Jake and I were a couple, and why would he even think that?

  “You weren’t going to invite me at first, were you?” Jake asks, and my eyes snap back to his. He smirks when he sees the guilt in them.

  “Of course I was going to—”

  “No, you weren’t,” he cut me off. “I could see just moments ago when you made the decision to do it.”

  “Whatever,” I mutter and take another sip of beer. I feel like getting ridiculously drunk now. Then I tack on sulkily, “We’re not dating.”

  “Of course we’re not,” he says solicitously, but his eyes are crinkled with laughter. “But I can’t come tomorrow night.”

  My head pops up in surprise. “Why not?”

  And why do I suddenly feel let down?

  Jake playfully chucks me under the chin with his knuckles. “Because Darby’s coming into town. It would be rude of me to leave her to fend for herself and go to dinner at your parents.”

  “Oh,” I say softly and turn back to my beer. “Yeah… that makes sense.”

  “Does that bother you?” Jake asks hesitantly. “Because one minute, you don’t seem to want me there and the next you do.”

  Gripping my beer mug hard by the handle, I turn to Jake and lay it out straight. “I am having a problem with letting you in close. It’s awkward for me to think of you at a family dinner, but I also sort of want you to do it. I’m struggling, Jake, so cut me some slack, okay?”

  He then shocks me by leaning in and kissing me hard on the mouth. No doubt everyone saw that and when he pulls back, his eyes are warm. “You’ll get used to me, Laken. I promise.”

  “I doubt it,” I mumble with an eyeroll. “Any aversion to me staying the night at your place tonight?”

  Jake’s mouth peels into a wide grin and his eyes twinkle with all kinds of naughty promise. “It’s either my house or yours. I told you the nights are mine.”

  “Yours,” I tell him before I take a long swallow of my beer. “I’ll go home and get Herman.”

  “He’s not allowed in the bathroom,” Jake reminds me, and I know the bruise on his hip is enough of a reminder. Jake hit the floor hard today when Herman ploughed into him.

  Laughing, I give my agreement. “He can stay in the hallway.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Jake

  The crunching of tires on gravel gets my attention, and I pull my feet off the coffee table. I’d made the farmhouse living room my makeshift office while I was here. MG has shown no signs of weaning herself from me, and frankly, I’ve gotten into a nice work routine here. In fact, I’d say that some days I accomplish more because I don’t have office distractions. When I get back to Chicago, I will definitely be reevaluating telecommuting strategies for all the executives and other higher-ups in the company.

  I put my laptop on the couch and push up. I’d offered to pick up Darby from the airport but she insisted on renting a car, wanting to have the freedom to explore as she pleased.

  By the time I make it out onto the front porch, I see a silver economy car pulling up beside my rental. The overhead sun reflects too much of a glare for me to see inside, but I can make out two people in the front and I wonder who Darby brought.

  My question is answered when the passenger door opens first, and Kelly steps out into the bright sunlight. She doesn’t see me at first, but rather does a slow scan around the farm to take it all in. Darby gets out of the driver’s side, and I trot down the front steps.

  I can’t help but smile at the differences in the sisters. Darby is tall and willowy. Almost ethereal looking. She’s got strawberry-blond hair, pale skin, and freckles galore. Kelly is blond, tan, and curvy in a sex kitten kind of way. She was definitely the sexiest professor I’d ever had the pleasure of learning from.

  Darby came dressed for work in jeans, boots, and a plaid shirt. Kelly looks like she walked off Rodeo Drive in one of those one-piece rompers made of silk that shows miles of leg and a strapless top. She’s decked out in jewelry and expertly applied makeup.

  Both women finally look over to me and matching smiles break out. They at least share the same dimples.

  I reach Darby first and pick her up in a big hug, lifting her a good foot off the ground despite how tall she is. It’s been almost six months since I’ve seen her and while I can see the determination in her eyes, I can also see she’s battling back from being beat down by her ass of a soon to be ex-husband.

  When I release her, Kelly steps into me and gives me a quick hug. Since we are now business colleagues more than anything, the physical affection between us has cooled significantly, although I will still always welcome a hug from her. But we are no longer spouses. Only friends and colleagues, and we’ve been fortunate we could settle into a normalized relationship that’s not clouded by past hurts.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask Kelly, as this is a complete surprise.

  “Doug and I are going to take a quick weekend trip to the Keys, but he’s in New York and will be leaving from there. I thought I’d come here and check out your new farm with Darby before I flew on to meet him.”

  “Well, welcome then,” I tell her and make a mental calculation to see if there are clean sheets in the third guest bedroom upstairs since I’d only planned on Darby tonight.

  First order of business is getting their luggage inside. Both women only brought carry-on cases because of their short stays, and after I deposit them in their rooms and ensure there were indeed fresh sheets, I give them the grand tour of the house. Of course, as women, they ooh and ahh over things like the claw-foot tub in the master and the wood burning stove in the living room.

  Next comes the tour of the barn and pastures that are close to the house. Both women get to meet the infamous Miss Goatikins, who necessitated my return to Whynot for the unknown future, and both make sure to give me hell about it. Then Darby strikes out on her own to hike out toward the acres we’d marked for the future orchard. She came prepared to take soil samples.

  It’s almost time for MG’s noon feeding so I work on putting the bottle together. Kelly watches me with a smirk on her face as I efficiently mix the powdered formula. When I pick MG up, Kelly laughs with delight. “I can’t believe big, bad Jake McDaniel has a baby goat.”

  “Shut up,” I say affectionately as I watch MG work the nipple.

  Kelly’s silent for just a moment, but then she says, “You know… I think you’re actually suited to farm life.”

  I look up at her in surprise. “What makes you say that?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look more relaxed in your life,” she observes. “I mean… you’re still super productive and are running the company fine from here, but you also look like you’re on vacation, too. There’s no tension or worry lines marring that handsome face. You look loose and comfortable here. Hell, even those jeans you’re wearing look better on you than your custom suits.”

  I think about this for a moment, and I realize… yes, country life isn’t so bad. I miss some of the conveniences of a city and the shopping and dining, but for the most part, I do feel more relaxed out here. My mind also turns automatically to Laken, and I wonder how much of this contentment that Kelly is noticing has anything to do with the fact I’m seriously becoming crazy about Laken. It’s only been a few weeks, but I know she is someone I could build something solid with if she felt the same way.

  “Who is she?” Kelly asks out of the blue, and my eyes lock onto hers.

  “Who?” I ask right back, playing it up dumb. But she has me busted. Kelly knows me better than any other woman except perhaps my mother.

  “Give it up, McD,” she says as she gives me a light punch in the arm. “I know there’s something up and my money is on a woman.”

  I consider lying to her but then figure… why should I? Laken is nothing to be ashamed of, and I know Kelly wants me to find happiness just the way she seems to have with Doug.

  “Her name’s Laken
, and she’s the local veterinarian,” I say as I continue to feed MG. “We’ve been seeing each other, but it’s a bit complicated.”

  “How?” Kelly asks.

  “Well, she has a life and a business here. Mine is in Chicago.”

  “Yours is here right now,” Kelly points out. “It doesn’t have to be based in Chicago.”

  “You know as well as I do,” I counter-argue, “that telecommuting is fine for a bit, but I will have to be in Chicago for a lot of the meetings on any given week.”

  “Plenty of people make it work,” she says with a shrug. “Or maybe she could be a vet in the big city.”

  I shake my head. “Yeah… I don’t think that’s an option, and besides… it’s way too early to even be thinking about that stuff. We’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks.”

  “But you’re into her,” Kelly says with a confident gleam in her eyes. “I can tell.”

  “Totally into her,” I concede. “Not sure it’s reciprocated the same.”

  “Ouch,” Kelly murmurs with a wince. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” I tell her with a smile just as MG pulls her mouth from the nipple and gives a tiny bleat.

  Kelly laughs and asks, “Can I feed her? She’s so cute.”

  I shake my head. “She won’t eat from anyone but me. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Just let me try,” she insists as she holds her arms out. “You know I can’t resist a challenge.”

  “You do realize most of the challenges you kicked ass on were in the field of academia, not farming, right?” I mutter, but I hand MG over to Kelly all the same. When she’s holding her properly with one arm running under MG’s stomach to keep her upright, I hand the bottle to Kelly.

  She pushes it toward MG’s mouth, and I have my smirk ready to go for when MG will start crying out to come back to her daddy. But to my utter shock, Kelly is the one smirking as MG latches onto the bottle and starts drinking.