Forever, Alabama

by Susan Sands

  “I would be honored to join you ladies for dinner. Looking forward to it.”

  “Thanks again, Norman. I’ll walk you out and we can exchange numbers,” Mom said.

  Sabine waved as they started toward the gate. Wow. One never knew what the day might bring.

  Her phone buzzed at that moment. Rachel. She’d forgotten to call. “Hey, Rach, what’s up?”

  “It’s about damn time you pick up! I’ve been trying to get ahold of you, or haven’t you noticed?”

  “Sorry, I was in court and just got home. Mom had a man here with her when I arrived.”

  “A man? Like a man who fixed something?”

  “Nope. One who followed her home from the nursery to carry her mulch and flex for her.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Rachel’s shocked tone was understandable.

  “No. He’s a client’s father. Nice guy. Helped her home in his truck with some soil for her flower beds.”

  “Mom has flower beds? You’ve got to be joking. Soil? What’s happening in Alabama? Next you’ll be telling me she’s wearing a pair of overalls and listening to country music.” Rachel expressed her disbelief over their very well-dressed city mother’s digging in the dirt.

  “So, what’s going on? You’ve obviously got something to tell me.”

  “Yeah. Just giving you a heads-up that James might be in your area. He called a few days ago asking questions. Of course, I didn’t spill any information, but you know how resourceful he is.”

  Sabine was quiet for a moment. Yes, their half-brother could be very tricky.

  “Sabine? You okay?”

  “Yeah. I think I saw someone sitting in a car outside my office before. It could have been him.”

  “Watch your back. I don’t think he’ll cause any real trouble, but I think Dad might’ve put him onto keeping an eye on the two of you. The parole hearing is coming up soon, according to James.”

  “Damn. I thought we’d have more time.” Sabine wasn’t ready to face this. “Rachel, do you know when the hearing is scheduled?” Sabine’s pulse beat faster.

  Rachel sighed. “I don’t think there’s a date posted yet, at least not one that’s listed on the website,” Rachel said. “Yes, I’ve been checking.” Rachel’s relationship with their father was still in a rough place.

  Rachel hadn’t spent any real time with them to settle into a routine or become accustomed to a new family structure without their father in it. Of course, Sabine had lived with Richard when everything had hit the fan, so they hadn’t all lived together for several years anyway. But it certainly would be nice for the three of them to have some relaxed bonding time together.

  Sabine heard the thread of sorrow in Rachel’ s voice. “It’s been nearly two years. I wish you would consider taking some jobs closer to us. We keep a bedroom for you here.”

  “Should I tell Mom about James and the parole hearing?” Sabine bit her lip, hoping to figure out a way to save Mom from further stress relating to her dad.

  “Not yet. She may not have to be upset by any of this. We’re not sure when it will be yet, so give it a little time.”

  “Where are you, Rach?”

  “I’m down at Oak Alley Plantation shooting a wedding. It pays the bills. I’ll try to make it over there soon.”

  “Take care of yourself, Sis. You’re a little too close to home for my comfort.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about me. You look after our mother and keep the strange men away.” Sabine smiled at that absurd comment as she hung up. Their parents had been estranged for nearly five years. Dad’s incarceration for obstruction of justice and civil rights violations, and whatever else, had finally made it possible for Mom to obtain a divorce two years ago. It was the final break she’d so desperately needed from the man she’d loved with her heart and soul, but who’d taken everything from her—mostly her trust.

  Chapter Three

  Cows. Ben would like to say he couldn’t believe this was happening. But it wasn’t the first time the Millers and the Johnsons had battled over the Miller’s bovine herd breaking loose, trampling, and devouring Mrs. Johnson’s precious vegetable and flower garden. No, wait, the message Ben’d just listened to, if directly quoted was more like, “Those damned cows from Miller’s land busted through again and shit all over the front yard, ate the flowers, and ruined all the new rows we just planted! I want to file a lawsuit, Ben, do you hear me?”

  Loud and clear. But these folks were neighbors and had been for going on thirty years. The Johnsons actually didn’t want to start a war, so it was up to Ben to figure out a way to keep the peace when tempers invariably flared. Of course, the time and effort would yield no income for Ben. Just another good deed to maintain the balance. Ben handled both the Miller and Johnson family’s wills and estate business, though. So, it was sensible to keep everyone happy.

  Jerking at the necktie he’d worn in court for the last eight hours, Ben decided that if he was to face the angry neighbors, better to be comfortable while doing so. He changed from loafers into glove-soft, well-worn boots—better to dodge any remnants from the well-fed cows. They weren’t dubbed shit-kickers for nothing.

  He wished he had a pair of jeans to change into, but he’d not planned on mucking around today, so he’d make do with what he had.

  His cell phone rang as he was heading out. “Hello?”

  “Hey there, handsome.”

  “Oh, hi, Celine.”

  “I’m feeling a little lonely. You off work yet?”

  “Sorry, no can do. I’ve got to take care of some business off Highway 9.”

  “How about tomorrow?” she pressed.

  Should he tell her she’d used up her share of dates? How did one do that without coming off sounding like a pure ass? “Well, the thing is—” He would skirt the issue if possible.

  “Are you blowing me off, Ben Laroux?” she asked.

  The two of them hadn’t been serious and she’d never seemed the jealous type, but she deserved an honest answer, he supposed. “Well, you see, Celine, I’ve decided to limit my dating—”

  “Limit your dating?” She sounded more curious than angry, which was a good sign.

  “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, so, I’m sticking with a two-date rule for now, since I’m so busy.”

  Laughter. “So, I’ve used up my time, huh? Good luck with that, honey. If you think you can outrun the women in this town by making rules to keep them away, really, good luck.”

  She hung up, still snickering. What was so hilarious? He was working to make his life more manageable and maintain pleasant relationships. On the bright side, she hadn’t yelled at him for refusing to see her. She could’ve at least pretended to be a little more upset, though. More likely, she’d pass along the info at the next Bunco group—or better yet, post it on all the social media outlets via the worldwide web.

  Could be his newly instated status would make its way around town via Celine and her friends faster than any electronic postings could, thereby saving him the painful task of breaking it to every potentially interested young woman in and around the county. His sisters made great fun of his brilliant plan to streamline his busy schedule by cutting down on the social aspect of his week.

  Truly, it made perfect sense. It wasn’t like he was hurting anyone. He simply wasn’t involved enough with any one person at present for this decision to cause a problem.

  Pulling up at Johnny Miller’s barn, Ben sighed and got out of his truck. Looked like the cows were back home safe and sound, based on the dozens of rather enormous, bored sets of eyes that regarded him as he made his way across the fenced enclosure and into the dark recess of the huge red structure.

  “Johnny? You in here?” Ben called.

  It smelled of dried hay, manure, and leather. Horses shifted, in at least a half dozen stalls, snickering softly.

  “Ben? That you?” Johnny emerged from the small office at the rear of the place.

  The two men shook hands. Johnny�
�s were far more rough and weathered than Ben’s. Not that Ben was soft—far from it. He had his own land, just outside of town, with a few acres, where he kept a couple horses and a small barn adjacent to his house. Ben simply didn’t put as much time into working with his hands outdoors. Far less than he’d like, that was for certain.

  “Heard the cows got loose again,” Ben said. No point beating around the bush.

  “Yup. Got ’em back in pretty quick-like though.” Johnny worked the wad of chewing tobacco in his left cheek. He turned after he spoke and spit at the base of one of the horses’ stalls.

  “You know old man Johnson’s hot, and ready to file suit against you this time?”

  “Yup. His missus got a bee in her bonnet ’bout them flowers.”

  “If I were you, I’d buy her some new flats of annuals, have one of your guys go over and install them, and while he’s at it, remove all traces that your cows paid a visit. And apologize.”

  “Yup. Already figured I’d handle it. Gonna fix the rows for the garden too.”

  “Give a call to George and let him know before he heads over to the police station to file a report, why don’t you? I’ll go on over and try and smooth things over with Mrs. Johnson.”

  “You was always good with the ladies, Ben. Didn’t matter how old they was.” Johnny laughed, a rusty sound. and spit a dark stream of tobacco juice just to the side of Ben’s left foot.

  “You gotta keep your fences in good shape and make sure it doesn’t happen again. I can’t keep mediating between the two of you.”

  “Aw, come on, Ben. Mediatin’s your job, now, ain’t it?” Another rusty laugh followed Ben out to his truck.

  One of these days he wouldn’t be everyone’s boy. What would happen if he just left them alone to handle this themselves? There would likely be several sides of beef in dispute as to whose freezer they should belong.

  Ben cranked up and headed across the road hoping to heck the Millers’ daughter wasn’t visiting on this fine day. They’d, uh, had a few pleasant encounters a few years back, and Cissy-Mae had recently suggested they pick up where they’d left off—even though she’d gotten married last summer at Evangeline House.

  He really didn’t think she was serious, but it made him quite uncomfortable whenever he ran into her around town.

  Thankfully, she wasn’t at her parents’ house just then, but neither were Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. He’d give a call later and speak with them. Hopefully, that would suffice, and this disturbance would cool down and work itself out.

  Now, he just wanted to go home to a TV dinner, a cold beer, muck his barn stalls, and watch the local news before bed. Surely it wasn’t too much to ask.

  His cell phone buzzed. He groaned and checked the caller ID. It was his oldest sister, Maeve. Apparently, his fantasy evening was about to be blown.

  He turned in the direction of her house as they spoke. He was needed. Again.

  “Ben, what in the world would we do without you?” his sister Maeve asked after an hour-long tutoring session. Her daughter Lucy had a pre-algebra test and was struggling with the concepts.

  “Thanks, Uncle Ben.” Lucy was almost eleven, and swore he was the only person who could help her understand the idea of solving for x.

  “You’re gonna rule that test tomorrow. Text me afterward and let me know how you did, okay?”

  “Thanks!” They both chimed.

  Ben again climbed into the cab of his pickup and headed toward home. This time he turned off his phone. He was dog-tired.

  No wonder he didn’t have time for a social life. He barely had time to get through a normal day.

  “I just can’t stop thinking about him, you know? He’s just soooo sexy. And he does this thing with his mouth—”

  “Cissy, I don’t think going into detail about an ex-lover’s technique is going to help you move forward in a healthy marriage.” Sabine was ready to crawl out of her skin. If she was forced to listen to Ben Laroux’s prowess as a lover in detail again, she might just toss this girl out of her office.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. O’Connor. I love my husband, I do, but I don’t know how to get Ben out of my head. I’m ashamed to admit that I tried to get him to sleep with me since I married Scott.” The girl lowered her head in humiliation.

  “Have you admitted this to your husband?”

  “No! Of course not. It would kill Scott to know that sometimes I think of someone else when we make love. But it’s not all the time, just when I—”

  Cissy stopped, apparently too embarrassed to complete her thought.

  “It’s not that uncommon to have fantasies during lovemaking. But it’s true; he likely wouldn’t want to know they’re about a former boyfriend or lover.” Sabine considered herself a consummate professional and, as such, she sought to help this girl improve the quality of her marriage.

  But, damn. Why did it seem to be Ben Laroux these women fantasized about?

  “But what can I do?” Cissy seemed truly regretful about her disloyalty to dear, sweet Scott, God love him.

  “First, even if you want to have relations again with Ben or anyone, don’t put your marriage at risk by propositioning another man. Not if you want to stay married. Second, ask yourself why you are having a hard time letting go of Ben.”

  Cissy screwed up her cute little bow-shaped mouth and lolled her head around in real contemplation of that for a moment. “I think it’s because he’s so nice. I mean, sexy too, but he’s really sweet.”

  “You can’t stop thinking about him because he’s nice?” That was unexpected.

  “He was always such a gentleman; not just when we had sex, but after—even when he didn’t want to date anymore. I never felt used or cheap. And we weren’t, like, in love. I kind of chased him and made sure he knew I was available.”

  “I see. So, you weren’t in a serious relationship with Ben, and since he was such a nice guy, nothing particularly unpleasant ever went on during your times together?” Figures; he used her but didn’t make her feel used. Brilliant way to get what he wanted without a fuss.

  “Yes, exactly. We only had good times. So, when I think about him, it makes me feel happy.”

  “You realize that marriage to anyone, even someone who’s super nice wouldn’t always be like that. I mean, ordinary happens to everyone after the new wears off any relationship.” Sabine hoped to help Cissy understand that her light, unemotional encounter with Ben had been a bit of a fantasy, or break from the reality of her daily marriage grind.

  “I guess. It was just such fun. Marriage is hard, you know. Harder than I thought it would be. Ben was such fun. And nice.”

  Cissy hung her head, guilt over her feelings weighing on her.

  “It’s okay, Cissy. But you can do more for your marriage besides just give in to monotony and boredom.”

  Cissy’s head came up. “What do you mean?”

  They discussed Cissy and Scott’s daily routine and decided she and Scott were in a rut. Not only in their daily lives, but with meals, lack of a social calendar, and declining sex life. Sabine assured Cissy that these things were perfectly normal within the first year of marriage, but that it took a concentrated effort to make positive change.

  The difference in Cissy’s demeanor when she left the office was tremendous. “I can’t thank you enough, Dr. O’Connor. I’m so excited to shake things up with Scott.”

  “Make sure you let him know what you’re up to and that you’re doing it for both of your sakes. If you hit him with too many unexpected changes at once, he might get unnerved and think something strange is going on.”

  “Are you kiddin’ me? He’d never in a million years think anything was weird between us. He thinks I walk on water.” Cissy flashed a grin. “I’ve never given him a hint that I’m anything but tickled pink to be his wife.”

  Somehow, Sabine believed that to be true. “Still, go easy. Many men can be creatures of habit, and rely on their comfort and routine. You don’t want to throw him for a loop.”


  Cissy gave Sabine the two thumbs-up sign as she walked out, not mentioning Ben Laroux again.

  Sabine sighed. Despite her distraction with Ben when she came in today, Cissy seemed refocused now, and hopefully would devote her time and attention to her new husband moving forward.

  Looking at the clock on the wall, Sabine realized it was nearly five o’clock. Her stomach growled. She’d worked through lunch, taking an “emergency” patient who’d come to a life-altering decision to quit her job to join the peace corps in a flash of clarity during the night. Sabine convinced her to hold off on announcing this to her boss until they’d had a few more sessions to hammer out the whys of this sudden conviction.

  Sabine sometimes felt like her head would explode, so full of information was she. Stuff she couldn’t share—with anyone. It was as if she walked around with the town’s secrets in her head, afraid to bump into anyone. Because she knew.

  As she locked up, Sabine decided that maybe she should schedule a few days off. At present, there wasn’t anyone on the verge of suicide so far as she could tell, which was a relief, because she couldn’t always say this.

  The annual Ministry Arts Festival was in full swing. As small and Southern as the town was, it boasted a deep love of music and visual art. The town square had been roped off, allowing residents and visitors to meander through the brick streets of the most picturesque part of town. Ministry history was steeped in Civil War culture and the downtown area boasted countless gorgeous historic buildings and homes from that era.

  There was a militant preservation society here that virtuously maintained any structure that predated 1900. It made for a picture-perfect town and a perfect choice for Sabine and Elizabeth. They loved the South and couldn’t have borne leaving for a colder climate. Plus, they’d chosen Alabama for a reason.

  It was a lovely, sunny April evening. Her mother was adamant they get out of the house and enjoy the day together. Now that she was here, Sabine had to admit it was an inspired plan. Truly, they didn’t get out nearly enough. And there wasn’t any point in hiding forever.