by N. C. Reed
Robert didn't like that. His son was still a kid. Still in high school and just seventeen…
The same age Clay had been when he left home.
“You're right,” he almost whispered and Lainie looked at him. Robert looked pale even in the flickering fire light that gave them what little illumination they had. “You're right. It's my fault.”
“It's your daughter's fault,” Beverly Jackson spoke for the first time since Lainie had torn into him. She was still an outsider while Lainie was all but Robert's sister-in-law, but she couldn't let this pass.
“What?” he looked up at her, his eyes still unfocused.
“It's your daughter's fault, Mr. Sanders, not yours,” Beverly told him plainly. “She caused this,” she pointed to pyre. “Don't absolve her of blame by taking it all on yourself. I understand she's a very intelligent young woman most of the time and even fought wild fires for a living before the world stopped turning. But she did a very stupid thing and it cost a very good man his life. It's cost us his friendship, and his presence. I have no idea how his loss is going to affect the rest of the group.”
“What do you mean?” Robert asked, careful to make his tone of voice show he was asking a genuine question and not making a demand.
“They were dependent on one another in battle,” Beverly said softly as she turned her own gaze back to the group. “John was a large part of that, no pun intended. Without him. . .I don't know how they will function without him. They were. . .they were of one mind, Mr. Sanders. Do you understand that? They knew without asking or looking what each of the others would do in a given situation. Now? Now that's changed. Their dynamic will change. They will have to change with it.”
“And I don't know if they can.”
CHAPTER TEN
-
Morning came, bright and sunny despite the chill of early December. The weather truly wasn't that bad and other than brief outbursts of ill weather December in Tennessee tended to be fairly mild.
Clay was up with the sun and Lainie followed him. They dressed and walked down to the outdoor kitchen for breakfast. The Sanders ate there while everyone else was still eating at the Troy house. Clay didn't like that kind of division but hadn't figured a way to removed it just yet.
“Maybe Bear can come up with-” he started and then abruptly stopped as the full impact of the day before came crashing down upon him.
“Clay,” Lainie said gently. “It's all right, Clay. I'm here with you.”
“I wish I had listened to you,” he told her without looking her way. “I wish I hadn't gone.”
“I know,” she stroked his face gently. “It will be all right, Clay. It will. It will take time, just like anything else like this, but it will be okay.”
“Okay,” he repeated the word as if it were foreign.
“Come on,” she pulled him gently down the drive. “Let’s go and eat. Afterward we 'll do whatever you want or need to do. I 'll stay with you, no matter what.”
Beverly Jackson, it had turned out, was a psychologist. Not a shrink but a 'cognitive behavioral therapist', which was a mouthful to say but boiled down to her assisting people with phobias and coping with issues that affected their everyday life. She had warned Lainie that today would be a bad day and the next might be worse as it sank in that John was gone. The only thing Lainie or anyone else could do was be supportive, understanding and above all else, patient.
“Okay,” Clay sounded so lost that it made her want to cry. Without another word, he started again for his parent's home, Lainie alongside holding his hand. They made their way in silence the rest of the way down to breakfast.
Angela's outdoor kitchen was bustling with people already moving in to take seats as Angela, Alicia, Patricia, and Abigail finished setting breakfast on the table, the newly arrived Samantha Walters lending a hand where it was needed.
“Look who shows up just as the work is done,” Alicia was just shy of catty when she saw Lainie.
“We can go back and eat at home if it bothers you,” Lainie smiled back at her. “I had something more important to do this morning. Looks like you did fine without me.”
“More important?” Alicia looked at her, face red from Lainie's rejoinder. “Like what?”
“That's enough,” Angela cut into the conversation. “If you have to ask what's more important after yesterday then you aren't paying attention.”
Alicia abruptly closed her mouth at that and Lainie nodded a silent thank you to her defacto mother-in-law. Perhaps she and Angela would one day have a decent relationship after all.
“Morning son,” Gordon said to Clay as he took his seat. Clay just nodded, saying nothing.
“Morning boy,” Leon clapped Clay's shoulder as he walked by, Janice Hardy hovering a step away with Brick behind them.
“She could start helping with breakfast,” Alicia had to say, looking at Janice.
“She could, but she's usually helping me out around the house so she won't,” Leon didn't miss a beat as he sat down. Janice sat to one side of him while Brick sat on the other.
“What could she-”
“Alicia, if you don't close your mouth, you can fix a plate and eat somewhere else,” Angela interrupted. “I am sick and tired of my table and my house falling victim to your tongue. I won't tell you again. Enough is enough.”
Face even redder now, Alicia fell silent once more, finishing her duties in a huff that no one cared about. As everyone settled down to eat, Gordon turned thanks and everyone began to dig in.
“Clayton, you need to let me look at your hand after breakfast,” Patricia said softly. She and Abigail hadn't really spoken much since their 'discussion' the day before. Patricia had fallen into a deep sleep after examining Samantha Walter's leg and when she woke Abigail was asleep.
“It's fine,” Clay replied without looking up.
“You don't want to let it get infected,” she warned.
“I said it's fine,” Clay's voice was brittle, and full of warning signs for those who were listening. Not everyone was however.
“Okay,” Patricia nodded her understanding.
“She's just trying to help, Uncle Clay,” Abigail tried to defend her mother, hoping to start making inroads in repairing their relationship. She missed an urgent shake of her mother's head and ignored a glare from Lainie. “You should let-”
“When I need advice from the village idiot, I 'll be sure and call you,” Clay's voice was colder than the air around them. “Until then I'd rather not hear your voice at all.”
“Idiot?” Abigail's pride couldn't let that go. “What's in your craw?” she demanded.
“You are!” Clay slammed a hand onto the table and most everyone jumped. Only Brick, Leon and Gordy sat still. “Stop talking. I don't want to hear you.”
“Easy, son,” Gordon said gently. “Let’s just try and have breakfast without-”
“Without what?” Clay turned to look at his father. “Without my best friend? Without the man who saved my life more times than I can count? A man who would be here this morning if not for her,” he pointed at Abigail and his niece flinched a little.
“That's true,” Gordon nodded, his voice reasonable. “I'm not excusing her. I just want us to get through breakfast in some manner of civility.”
“Then start with them,” he nodded at the others. “I was fine.”
“That's true as well,” Gordon agreed. “There's no question where the fault lies, Clayton. No one that matters denies it.”
“No one that matters,” Clay's voice was bitter. “I shouldn't be here,” he stood abruptly. “I should be over there,” he nodded toward his own farm. “It was a mistake to come here. Hell, it was a mistake to come home.”
With that he left his plate sitting on the table and started for the door.
“Clayton, we worked hard on this,” Angela objected. “Please eat.”
“I lost my appetite,” Clay glared at Abigail and then was out the door, Lainie hot on his heels.
&
nbsp; “Well,” Alicia, typically, was the first to speak. “What is his problem?”
“You mean aside from your mouth and Abigail's stupidity?” Gordon cut her down. “I suspect losing a man that was closer than a brother yesterday has a little bit to do with his 'problem'. And your mother already told you to keep your mouth shut, but let me add this; I am sick and tired of your sharp tongue, Alicia. Do you understand? Sick of it. I've heard it all I aim to. From now on whenever you feel that urge to be snide, rude or ugly, you go to your house and do it. If I hear it again at mine, I won't be responsible for getting your jaw fixed. And that doesn't require you to comment,” he added when Alicia opened her mouth to retort.
“Damn fine breakfast this morning, Angela,” Leon grinned broadly at seeing his grand-daughter put in her place. “As always.”
“Thank you, Pa,” Angela tried to smile and managed a small one.
“I am not stupid,” Abigail objected softly.
“Your actions say otherwise,” her great-grandfather spoke before anyone else could. “You did a stupid thing and a man lost his life over it.”
“That wasn't stupid!” Abigail's voice rose. “My friend was in danger!”
“And Clayton's friend is dead because you didn't listen.” Everyone at the table turned to Robert when he spoke for the first time. “I watched my brother say good-bye to a man who was closer to him than I am last night, and it was because of my own daughter's actions,” he continued softly, looking at the table in front of him. “That's my fault, I guess. Not that you did it, because that's on you. But I went wrong somewhere as a parent, not because you were loyal to your friend but because you can't acknowledge, even now, that your actions had consequences. Deadly consequences at that.” He looked at her then, his face hard.
“You put yourself in danger, which was your decision, but you also put your Uncle in danger, and your brother,” he nodded at Gordy who was still eating, ignoring the drama that had become all too regular it seemed. He had his priorities in order, and food was right up there with breathing so far as he was concerned.
“I didn't ask them to come after me,” Abigail resisted, stubborn to the end.
“No,” Robert nodded. “No, I did that,” he surprised her. “I talked to Clay like a dog, angry at him because of what you had done. Accused him of abandoning you, and Samantha,” he nodded to the other girl, “even though it wasn't his responsibility. He told you what would happen and you did it anyway. And he still came and got you. Yet I haven't seen you act in any way regretful, or even sorry that you caused a good man's death by running off the way you did. I haven't even heard you say thank you.”
“And that? That's on me,” Robert sighed. He had come face-to-face with some uncomfortable truths the night before. “That's on me for not raising you better.”
The rest of the meal was eaten in silence.
-
Clay entered the back door of the Troy house with Lainie right behind him. Martina Sanchez looked surprised to see him, but pleasantly so.
“Got room for two more?” he asked as others were making their way in.
“We always have room for the two of you,” Martina assured him. “Always.”
“Morning Boss,” Jose said as he walked in. He playfully slapped Martina on the rear, earning him a slap aside his head which made him laugh. It was a morning ritual of sorts for the couple, highly entertaining to the rest.
“Morning,” Clay nodded, taking the offered cup of coffee from Martina.
“What can I do to help?” Lainie asked and went to assist the others in getting breakfast on the table.
Christina Caudell came waddling in, Nate hovering around her to her obvious displeasure.
“Will you stop that!” she fussed, pushing him slightly. “I'm fine!”
“You might fall or something,” Caudell protested.
“I am not going to fall,” she replied. “Well, probably not,” she amended. “Good morning!” she smiled when she saw Clay and Lainie.
“Morning,” Clay replied. “How is the mother-to-be?” he asked.
“I'm so fat,” she groaned as she sat down. “It takes me five minutes just to get out of bed!”
“Takes me longer than that and I ain't pregnant,” Clay chuckled. “I'd say you're doing fine.”
“Don't encourage her,” Nate insisted as he sat down beside her. “I'm trying to get her to be more careful.”
“If she were more careful you're have to wrap her in bubble wrap,” Tandi Maseo snorted as he and Ellen Kargay walked in. Ellen began at once helping set the table.
“Don't give him any ideas!” Christina scolded.
It was an altogether pleasant scene save for one person being absent. The atmosphere, despite that loss, was much more friendly than the one Clay and Lainie had just left. Beverly Jackson raised one elegant eyebrow at Lainie, who shrugged and nodded, the two exchanging information without the need for words.
The word for the day was coping.
-
The day was gone before anyone realized it. Work had to be done regardless and most of the farm was still exhausted from the previous day and the trials it had brought. The next day was much the same, with the exception that Clay and Lainie didn't bother going to his family's breakfast gathering at all, joining the group at the Troy farm instead.
It was on the third day that things changed.
-
“Car coming,” Jody Thompson reported over the radio. “Check that, five cars on the road, heading for the farm. Second vehicle is a marked patrol car,” he added.
“That's not a good sign in all likelihood,” Clay mused aloud.
“What?” Gordon asked, removing his gloves and wiping his hands.
“Why now?” Clay asked, doing the same and slinging his rifle. “Have to see who it is I guess,” he shrugged. The two of them moved toward the front of the Sanders' house area, Clay donning an ear- mike combo for his radio.
“Last vehicle is a van and has stopped about five see from gate,” Thompson reported. “Nine tangos exiting. . .moving into the fields east of my posit. Two are uniforms, one blue, one like the deputy. All of them are armed, four with shoulder weapons.”
“This is a shakedown or a set-up, one or the other,” Clay said more to himself than his father. “Sound the alarm, Tommy,” he ordered over the radio. “A van stopped the other side of the Troy place about five hundred meters out and let off nine people, all armed,” he relayed to his father.
“What are you doing?” Gordon asked.
“We're preparing for an attack,” Clay told him. “There's no reason to stop and disgorge nine armed men into a field where they think they're out of sight unless you intend violence or know your intended target will use violence. I don't know who this is, but they mean trouble.”
Gordon said nothing else as the two arrived in front of the homes occupied by the Sanders' clan. Clay stood easy, rifle hanging in front of him.
“Covering you from the cut,” Juarez reported. “Thug and Doc are moving to deal with our back-door guests. Scope is covering the house. We're secure.”
“Roger that,” Clay replied. “If they make a move, take them,” he ordered after a second's thought. “Any hostile intent is reason to go.”
“Roger that,” Nolan replied. “We're on it.”
“I'm covering from the blind west of the houses,” Gordy's voice was a surprise, but a welcome one in Clay's ear.
“Keep an eye on your back,” Clay advised him. “You're the flank over there.”
“Roger, copy.” Clay smiled at how quickly Gordy had picked things up.
“Are you going to attack them without seeing what this is?” Gordon asked him.
“I'm going to prevent them from reaching where we live,” Clay corrected. “What happens to them is up to them, Dad. There's no reason to come at us like this unless you have bad motives.”
“I suspect that is true,” Gordon sighed. “What do you want me to do?”
“Well,
I suppose you should be here to meet whoever this is, but. . .it's dangerous in all likelihood,” Clay admitted. “Be safer if you were in the house.”
“I 'll stay,” Gordon decided. “It's time someone in this family besides you took risks.” The statement caught Clay by surprise but he shook it off as the first two cars pulled into the drive while another car and a truck with at least five men in the back stopped on the road. The men all jumped out of the back of the truck but Clay couldn't get a good count as some were on the far side.
The front car was obviously an unmarked police car, given the spotlight on the window. The trailing car was, as Jody had reported, a patrol car.
“Well, this is shaping up to be a cluster fuck,” Clay muttered to himself. “If shooting starts, hit the ground and stay there,” he told his father. “If you can get behind that flower bed then do it. All that wood and dirt should stop a bullet just fine.”
“You think there will be shooting?” Gordon asked as the doors on the unmarked car opened.
“I'd about bet on it,” Clay nodded. “And no matter who gets out of that car, you stay put. Make them come to you.”
“All right,” Gordon replied.
Just as Tobias Peyton climbed out of the passenger door of the unmarked car.
“Hello, Gordon!” Peyton called. “You meet everyone with a rifle or am I just special?” the big man asked, grinning.
“These days, pretty much everyone,” Gordon replied, smiling back. He took a single step forward before Clay's words came back to him and he stalled.
“Got a minute?” Peyton called. “Need to talk to you.”
“Sure, come on over,” Gordon waved. “Have a seat,” he pointed to a bench in the yard.
“Nah, just come on over here a minute,” Peyton shook his head.
“I 'll just stay here in the shade, where it's cool,” Gordon frowned. He had never had Peyton refuse his hospitality before.
“Gordon it's December,” Peyton laughed. “It's cool everywhere. Come on over here a minute.”
“I said I 'll pass, Toby,” Gordon's voice had gone flat. “What can we do for you today? You here as a friend or as the law?”