Demanding All Of You

by Ali Parker

  “Uh-uh-uh, there you go making snap judgments again,” she warned.

  I took a deep breath. “You’re right. I will keep my opinions to myself. He’s just a man. He’s no better and no worse than me.”

  She nodded. “Good girl. So, what does the grandson of Oliver Whittle look like?”

  I licked my lips involuntarily, not even realizing I had done it until I noticed her looking at me funny. “He looks a lot like Oliver, I suppose, minus the wrinkles and paunch belly.”

  “Same crazy blue eyes?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Yes. Thick black hair cut short just like Oliver kept his. Damion’s has some little specks of gray in his, though. Oliver only had the gray wings. He’s tall like Oliver and has that football-player build, like the kind of man that can throw an eighty-pound bale of hay. Not that Damion could do it, given his current pansy-ass status, but he could try.”

  She was smiling at me. “Someone’s got a little crush.”

  “Oh hell no. I can admit he’s an attractive man, but I’m not into guys like him. I might be a tough, independent woman, but I like to be taken care of. I like my men to be stronger than I am. He’s probably afraid of spiders.”

  She laughed. “There you go, making more assumptions about a man you don’t even know.”

  I finished my coffee. “You’re right. Tomorrow, I’ll go back over there and try to have a decent conversation with him. I won’t insult him—unless he deserves it. I will do my best to keep a cool head and show him what he needs to know.”

  “Good girl. Now, go home. I have to shower and get ready for work.”

  I laughed, getting up and taking my cup to the sink. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “Do not ever darken my door that early again. Next time, I won’t let you in.”

  “I’ll just use my key,” I told her.

  She rolled her eyes. “Go home.”

  I left her house and started the journey to my little house in the middle of nowhere. One day, I would have my own farm. For now, I lived in a tiny house with just enough room for me. It wasn’t much, but I didn’t need much. I was saving up for the day I could have a big farmhouse with a barn and plenty of pasture.

  One day.

  Chapter 9

  Damion

  After getting up way earlier than I would have preferred, Oliver and I were both dragging a little. Thankfully, our bodies were still on east-coast time and it didn’t feel nearly as early as it had been when she’d rumbled the tractor by the window.

  It was a trick I was familiar with. My grandpa used to do the same damn thing when I would get home late. He hated the idea of sleeping in. He considered seven too late. No matter the day, the man was up and out of bed by five at the latest. Apparently, Alex was the same way.

  “Okay, are you ready?” I asked Oliver, who was sitting at the kitchen table, just finishing his cereal.

  He shrugged. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes, you have to. This school is going to be a lot different than your old school.”

  He put his bowl in the sink. “Don’t I have to wear my uniform?”

  I smiled, shaking my head. “Nope. Jeans and whatever shirt you choose is good enough.”

  “Do they have books?”

  “Absolutely. Today, we’ll go and just check things out. You don’t have to start until next week. I want you to get settled before you jump into a new school.”

  He let out a long sigh. “Fine.”

  I smiled, grabbing the keys to my car and walking out of the house. I didn’t bother locking the front door. I was back in Geraldine, where people didn’t lock their doors. We drove down the dirt road, my poor car finding every little rock along the way. If I decided to stay, I was going to have to give up my car. I couldn’t run a farm without a truck.

  I drove him into town, passing familiar sights and feeling a sense of reverie as I remembered driving down the same roads in the beat-up old Ford my grandpa had given me on my sixteenth birthday. It felt like an eternity ago.

  I parked the car in front of the school that housed the elementary, middle, and high school students. When I had gone to school, there had been maybe fifty kids total. I wasn’t sure if it was still that small, but I hoped it was. I had felt like I had gotten a good education.

  We walked into the school. The halls were quiet with students already in their classes. We walked into the office and I had to laugh. The same secretary from when I attended school was sitting behind the desk.

  “Well I’ll be,” she cooed when she saw me come in. “Damion Whittle.” She got up and walked around the desk, giving me a hug.

  “Hi, Mrs. Peters. I can’t believe you’re still here.”

  She laughed, patting my arm. “Where else am I going to go? I was real sorry to hear about your grandpa. I went to the funeral. Everyone went to the funeral. I don’t think I saw you there.”

  I slowly shook my head. “I wasn’t able to make it.”

  She smiled. “I see. So, who do we have here?” She turned to look at Oliver.

  “This is Oliver,” I said. “Oliver, this is Mrs. Peters.”

  Oliver looked at her with his pale blue eyes. “Are you my teacher?” he asked.

  She smiled. “No, honey. Your teacher will be Miss June.”

  “Miss June?” I asked with more surprise.

  Mrs. Peters smiled and nodded. “She’s set to retire next year.”

  “Oliver, you are going to love Miss June. She was my teacher!”

  Oliver’s eyes went round. “Is she really old?”

  Mrs. Peters laughed. “She is, but we don’t tell her she is.”

  “We’d like to get Oliver registered for kindergarten,” I said.

  “To start this year?” she asked.

  “Yes. We’ve moved into my grandpa’s house. I know there’s only a couple of months of the year left, but I’d like him to get accustomed to things.”

  She nodded and gestured for us to have a seat. “Let’s get the paperwork started. Where are you coming from?”

  “New York.”

  “Oh my! I forgot you had moved to the big city. Goodness, this must be a real change for you.”

  “A good change,” I assured her.

  I felt like the prodigal son. We took care of the necessary paperwork before Mrs. Peters offered to show us around. I held Oliver’s hand as we moved toward the kindergarten room. She knocked once before opening the door.

  The smell of paint flooded my senses. The sunlight was streaming in through the windows, highlighting all the bright colors around the room. The six kids in the class were sitting at one round table, happily painting what I was going to say were trees.

  “Miss June, I’d like to introduce you to a new student that will be starting next week.”

  Miss June looked up, her white hair and soft blue eyes like a warm hug from the past. I remembered her fondly. She’d been very kind to me after losing my parents. “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed, putting a hand over her heart. “I just can’t believe it.”

  She walked toward me, her small body enveloping mine in a big hug. I hugged her back, remembering the many hugs I had received from her throughout my childhood. She was like a surrogate grandmother to me. I didn’t realize how much I missed her until just that moment. “Hello, Miss June,” I said.

  “Damion, I’m so happy to see you. And this fine, young man. Who are you?”

  “I’m Oliver, Miss June,” he said proudly.

  “Well, that is a lovely name,” she said, looking at me and winking. “I’m very pleased to meet you. Would you like to have a seat and paint a picture?”

  He looked at me. I could see he was nervous. In no other school setting would he be allowed such freedom. I nodded my head. “Go ahead. I’ll be here.”

  He let go of my hand, Miss June taking it in hers and walking him to the table. I stood back, watching as she introduced each of the students to him. Oliver settled in and started to paint. I was hoping the small class size would h
elp him feel more comfortable. When there were only a handful of kids in a class, it was hard to get ignored or overlooked. I was confident he’d make friends in his new school.

  Mrs. Peters excused herself before Miss June came to stand beside me. “I’m really glad you’re back. Your grandfather always told us you’d be back one day.”

  I gulped down the lump in my throat. “I think he wanted me back sooner.”

  “Oh, don’t be too hard on yourself. He knew you needed to spread your wings and fly. He was so very proud of you. Every time I saw him in town or at one of the football games, he would catch me up on your life. I’m sorry things haven’t been easy for you, but I’m sure glad to finally get to meet that young man. He’s going to be fine here.”

  I nodded. “I have no doubt in my mind he will. I’m happy you’re still here. You made a huge difference in my life. Oliver is a lot like I was. He needs a lady like you.”

  “I’m only sorry I only get to have him in class a couple of months. Maybe I’ll hold him back so I can spend more time with him.”

  I chuckled. “Oliver is a smart kid and I’m not just saying that because I’m a proud daddy. He’s really smart. His last school wasn’t right for him. He got lost in the crowd and didn’t have any interest in being a part of that crowd.”

  She looked up at me and smiled. “Do you see what I see?” she asked softly.

  I looked at Oliver, who was talking to the little freckle-faced boy to his left. They appeared to be deep in conversation. “I do,” I breathed. “I do.”

  Everything felt like it was falling into place. I was kicking myself for not making the move earlier. I could have spent the last few months of my grandfather’s life with him. Oliver would already have friends and be settled in. I couldn’t go back in time, but I could move forward and try to do things differently.

  After finishing his picture, Oliver and I left the school. I tucked him into his booster and drove to the local market to pick up a few things. Part of me cringed at the high prices, but then another part of me remembered money was no longer an issue. I didn’t have to worry about paying two dollars for a loaf of bread.

  “I like my new school,” Oliver said from the backseat.

  I grinned, turning to look over my shoulder at him. “It is pretty cool, huh.”

  “I already made one friend. His name is Ben.”

  “Great. I bet you’ll make friends with the rest of the kids in the class as well. Miss June is a great teacher.”

  “I like to paint,” he announced.

  “Good,” I said, remembering how he had hated it at his old school. Of course, that school was all about the academics. Kindergarten was nothing like I remembered. Miss June was old school. I looked forward to her teaching style. She would encourage Oliver to be a kid and not worry so much about preparing him to be a straight-A student in high school.

  “Can I go to school tomorrow?” he asked.

  I laughed, thrilled that he was excited to go. “We have to wait for your old school to send over some stuff. Then it will be the weekend. You’ll get to start fresh on Monday.”

  He sighed. “Okay.”

  We drove back to the farm with me pointing out the wheat crops that were ripe and ready for harvesting along the way.

  “It’s very flat,” he said as we drove.

  I laughed. “Yes, it is. That’s why it’s a great place to grow food.”

  “There are no buildings,” he said as if he was confused.

  I shook my head. “Nope, no buildings. Lots of barns though.”

  He was young and would adjust quickly, but it would still be an adjustment. There were a lot of differences between our apartment in the city and the farmhouse with hundreds of acres of land surrounding it. He could walk a mile and not run into anyone.

  “I think I like it here,” he said after a while.

  “I think you’ll love it here. Tomorrow, we have to start learning the chores around the farm. Today, we need to finish cleaning up the house. You can help me sweep and mop the floors.”

  He happily agreed to help.

  I put away our meager groceries, knowing I was going to have to make the trip to the chain grocery store up north but putting it off. I was tired of being in the car and knew Oliver was as well.

  After working in the house for a couple of hours, I fed Oliver lunch before putting him down for a nap. He insisted he didn’t need it, but after the early morning wakeup and still trying to get over the long drive out to Montana, I knew he needed it. He was asleep fifteen minutes after he had gone to bed.

  With Oliver in bed for what I hoped was at least an hour, I walked into my grandfather’s bedroom. It smelled like him, the familiar scent of Old Spice lingering in the air. My stomach clenched as I walked into the room, seeing the picture of me during my senior year sitting on the dresser. Beside it was Ann and me on our wedding day. Oliver’s baby picture was positioned in the center.

  I stared at the pictures for a while, letting myself get lost in the memories that each of the pictures brought to the forefront of my mind. They were good memories but stark reminders of how fast time really went by. One day, I was graduating in my tiny hometown, and the next, I was burying my wife.

  Life passed in the blink of an eye.

  Chapter 10

  Alex

  I parked my truck in front of the barn, hopping out with my work gloves in hand. I reminded myself I wasn’t going to make any judgments. I was going to be positive and professional. I could show the man what needed doing without wanting to strangle him. After all, I had survived Deke. I could survive this guy.

  Patience, I told myself. Lots of patience. I walked into the barn, greeting the horses as I set about tidying the place up. I had left in a hurry yesterday and had left things in a bit of disarray. Obviously, the new owner hadn’t bothered to clean it up. Instead of coming back to the farm, I had gone home and answered a few of the emails I had been putting off. I wasn’t ready to take a new job just yet, but I wanted to make sure I had a job when this one ended.

  I had a feeling it was going to be ending much sooner than I had initially planned. I was going to play nice, but there was nothing forcing Damion to return the favor. He’d been surly and a little too domineering for my tastes. I could put up with some shit for a while, but I could not stand being talked down to. I had too much self-respect to let him or anyone else get away with that nonsense.

  I heard a soft neigh and looked over

  “Hey, girl,” I cooed, rubbing the mare’s nose. She nudged my hand, her giant brown eyes looking at me. She was a gentle girl. If Damion decided to get rid of the farm and sell the horses, I would beg him to let me have Fiona. With her bum leg and age, she’d be headed for a slaughterhouse.

  “Is that a girl horse?” I heard a voice ask. I yelped and nearly jumped into the stall with the horse. I wasn’t expecting company. I never let anyone see me talking to the animals. It took away from that hard image I worked to project.

  I turned to see the little boy I had spotted on the porch yesterday. I smiled, appreciating his curiosity. “Yes, it is. She’s a mare. Her name is Fiona.”

  “What’s a mare?”

  “A mare is a girl horse,” I answered, trying to keep it simple. “This particular horse is called a paint.”

  “A paint?” he asked, scrunching up his nose. “What’s that?”

  I laughed, realizing I was probably giving the poor kid way too much information. “A paint is a type of horse, like a bulldog is a type of dog.”

  “Oh,” he asked, staring up at Fiona.

  I rubbed her nose, letting her nudge against my neck. I liked to think it was her way of hugging me. “Fiona is a very good, gentle horse.”

  “What’s a boy horse?”

  I winced, not sure how to explain the details of that one. I was not about to tell the little boy about the castration of a male horse. That was a conversation left for his father. “Well, a young boy horse is sometimes called a gelding. An old
er, adult boy horse is sometimes called a stallion.”

  “Like the Black Stallion?” he asked, his eyes lighting up.

  I smiled, nodding. “Exactly like that. Have you watched that movie?”

  He shook his head. “No. My daddy reads me the story sometimes.”

  “Wow, that’s a very big book for a little guy.”

  “I’m five,” he announced.

  “Oh, so not such a little guy,” I said to placate him. “What’s your name?”

  “Oliver.”

  I smiled. Of course, that was his name. It was very apt. “I like that name. Your great-grandpa Oliver was my friend. He was the first Oliver I had ever met. Now, I’ve met two.”

  “My great-grandpa died,” he said.

  I nodded. “I know. It’s very sad.”

  “My daddy was really sad. He said we’re going to live here now because grandpa wanted us too.”

  I felt horrible for it, but I was glad to hear Damion had been sad. It showed he cared a little. Shaking off a case of the blues, I looked around the barn. “Have you ever seen a barn?” I asked him.

  He slowly shook his head. “Only in my books.”

  “You like to read, don’t you?” I guessed.

  “Yes.”

  He was only five and reading. That was pretty impressive in my book. “I will give you the grand tour,” I told him. “This is a stall. This is where the horses sleep at night, and sometimes, they hang out here in the daytime.”

  He nodded. “And they sleep on straw.”

  I smiled. “Yes, they do. Part of being a horse owner means you have to take care of them. In the morning, I take the horses out to the pasture and then I have to come in here and clean out their stalls and make sure they have a nice, comfy, dry place to sleep again.”

  “My dad used to clean stalls,” he announced.

  I laughed. “I bet he did.”

  “I have to clean stalls too,” he informed me.

  “Really? Good to know. It’s good work. It will help you get big and strong. Would you like to feed Fiona a carrot?”