by Ella Goode
Finally he says, "Why are you asking me about this now?"
"I called her—or I called the phone number that she'd given me once."
"I didn't know you had contact with her."
I feel myself flush a little. He had never forbidden contact with her but I knew he hadn't wanted me to be in touch. Still, she was my mother and I didn't have anything to feel guilty about—at least not in conjunction with her. "I had a little, but not much."
"I wish you would have told me, Annie. This is why secrets aren't a good thing. If you had told me you were in contact with her, I could have explained some things."
"Why didn't you tell me you were in contact with her?" I can’t keep the accusatory note out of my voice.
He sighs and answers me slowly, as if I’m a child and have trouble understanding. "I only heard from her sporadically. Would you have wanted me to tell you that she called and never asked about you?"
"No. Yes, I mean, I don’t know," I admit. I'm sure he didn't mean for his words to be hurtful yet the idea she never wanted to speak to me, never asked about me, causes my heart to tighten nonetheless.
He lays his glasses on the desk. "This is what I'm trying to protect you from. Your mother was never meant to have children. She simply wasn't suited emotionally for such a task. When she left, it was better for both of us, don't you agree? We’ve made a good team, you and I, and while I’ve made my mistakes here and there, we’ve knocked around quite well."
I nod numbly.
“Now that we’ve taken care of that, how was your librarians’ trip? I didn’t realize that Pippa Lang did not attend all the days with you. How did you get back into town?”
This is my opportunity to tell him I’m leaving and that I’m going to find a new job but the thing with my mother has left me reeling. Instead I blurt out, “Easy—I mean Van Beasley asked me out and I said yes. I just wanted to tell you.”
“Van Beasley?” he says sharply. “Isn’t he a member of that gang?”
“It’s not a gang, Father. It’s a group of men that enjoy motorcycles.”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“What does he do for a living?” Now he’s the one peppering me with questions and I feel as if I’m under attack—or at least my decisions are.
“He works for the munitions plant.” What he did for Mallory’s Manufacturing, I didn’t know.
“Hmmm.” He purses his lips. “Why don’t you have him come over for dinner tonight?”
“Tonight?” I squeak. I don’t know if I’m ready for the two of them to meet. I cringe inside at the conflict of having Easy in my house with Father, who will undoubtedly criticize everything about Easy from his tattoos to the leather cut he wears to the motorcycle he rides and the “gang” he belongs to.
“Is that a problem?”
“No, no problem.” It’s a big problem because I’m just not prepared. It’s one thing to be brave when I have Michigan and Easy on either side of me and another thing when I’m here, sitting in this small chair in front of my father who I have strived my whole life to please.
“Here’s a few announcements for the bulletin. Why don’t you finish that up?” He’s done with me. I’m dismissed.
“Of course.” I reach across the desk and take the pamphlets.
“Annie,” he calls softly when I reach the door.
“Yes?”
“There are many temptations out there in the world. They don’t go away because you are older. They only get harder to resist.”
“Maybe I don’t want to resist them,” I mutter under my breath. To him, I say “I hear you.”
“Make sure that you do. You aren’t too old to put over my knee.”
“Father!” I say shocked. “I’m twenty-three.”
“Are you?” He shrugs. “You’re still my child, no matter if you are three or twenty-three and it is my duty and privilege to help you remember the Lord’s teachings.”
I leave him because at this point anything I have to say would only start a fight.
At my little desk outside of Father’s office, I pick up my cell phone and walk outside to call Easy. He might be working but I can leave him a message.
He picks up on the first ring. “Hey, baby, how’d it go with your dad?”
“Aren’t you at work?”
“Making a delivery to Mankato, sweetheart. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Oh, is that what you do for Mallory’s? Deliveries?”
“You could say that.”
“I guess I don’t know much about you two.”
“We’ve got plenty of time to share those boring stories. That’s not what’s important. What’s important is that you’re going to be in bed with us tonight.”
“I can’t, I mean. I haven’t told him that I’m moving out. I…I had a tough morning but I did tell him we were dating and he wants to meet you.”
“You want to tell me about your morning? See what I can do to make it better?”
“No, not yet. Later. I don’t want to talk about it on the phone. Can you be back in time for dinner?”
“Course. What time?”
“Seven?”
“Sounds good. Make extra so I can give some to Michigan. He’ll be at home, poor fucker.”
“What if I’m a terrible cook?”
“I’m still going to share some of that with Michigan. We share it all.”
His voice is full of laughter and promise and I finally feel some pressure easing off my stomach. “Good thing for you, I’m not a bad cook.”
“Didn’t think you would be.”
“Do I have that look? Like I’m good in the kitchen?”
“Baby, I know you’re good everywhere. But yeah, you’ve got the look of someone who is competent. You recommended the right book for me, remember?” Easy and I had officially met when he’d come into the library during one of the days I volunteered. He said he wanted to check out a thriller novel but I knew from the commotion that he was there to keep an eye on Pippa who was seeing the president of the Death Lords MC. I suggested a Lee Child book and he’d told me he’d read the previous ones. Stupidly I challenged him and he’d told me the plot of the last three. That was the first and last time I’d underestimated him.
“That wasn’t that hard.”
“No, but I am. Listening to your voice makes me hard. You sure you can’t get away tonight?”
The muscles between my legs clench and release and I do it a few more times just because it felt good and reminded me of what it was like when they were touching me. I can’t spend another night away from them.
“Yeah,” I say hoarsely. “I’ll come to you tonight.”
“Good girl.”
I hang up and turn to open the parish office door but it’s already open. I don’t remember leaving it open but maybe I did.
Chapter Fourteen
Annie
The plan that Michigan and Easy worked out was that Easy would court me. He’d come to the parish house, introduce himself and take me out for dinner. We’d continue like that until I got a different job and could move into my own place. The offer to live with them was still on the table.
I didn’t have much in the way of education other than my high school degree so I asked Pippa to help me craft a resume.
“I wish I could hire you full time here,” Pippa says as we work on identifying all my transferable skills. I realize after listing out all the things I’ve done for Father that I’ve got a little knowledge of a bunch of things. I can make newsletters up for the church but I don’t really understand the big graphic design programs. I keep the church books but advanced accounting issues are beyond me. I’m organized and a “self-starter” which Pippa says should go at the top of my resume, but I’m not convinced that those skills are going to set me apart from anyone else.
“It doesn’t seem like many people have full time job openings available here in Fortune. Lots of part-time jobs. Maybe I could work two or
three part-time jobs.” Father and I shared a car and if I moved out, I didn’t know if he would allow me to continue to use it. But I had savings so maybe I’d use that to buy myself a car. I had to be careful because I also needed it to pay rent. “I guess I don’t have to work in Fortune. Minneapolis is only an hour and a half away. There are a ton of jobs there.”
At the mall, there were ‘help wanted’ signs all over the place. Surely I could work retail.
Pippa shakes her head. “In the winter? The drive would be terrible. What would you think about working at Wheel’s Up?”
“Judge’s auto shop?” I nibble on my lip. “Easy suggested that but I didn’t want to get the job just because…you know.” I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.
Pippa just smiles. Judge is her boyfriend. Or her man. Boyfriend seems like a silly word to apply to Judge, the president and leader of a bunch of rough-edged men. He’s a big man, like Michigan and Easy, and he’s got two kids. Boyfriend and Judge don’t go together. “He’s been complaining about all the paperwork he’s got to do. He hates it. I guess his daughter—I mean stepdaughter—used to do a lot of it but she’s spending more time at the Cut-n-Curl.”
Judge has a complicated relationship with his kids. His son is currently dating his daughter, but she’s his stepdaughter so I guess that makes it okay. It seems weird but then I’m sleeping with two guys. There’s no moral high ground here. “What does it all entail?”
“I’m not sure but I bet it’s not too different from your church work.”
“Really?” I say dryly. “Does he have to log prayer requests?”
Pippa laughs. “No, but he does have orders and complaints. And a wait list. A really long wait list. The more time he can spend with the wrench in his hand, the more money he makes.”
“I’m interested.”
“Great. I’ll ask him tonight. Need me to cover for you?”
“No.” I blush a little. “Easy is coming over to have dinner with us tonight. I invited him.”
“How did your dad take it?”
“He said he appreciated my missionary work outside of the church and reminded me that temptation comes in all forms, particularly attractive ones.”
I try to suppress a smile but it doesn’t work. We both burst out laughing because those Death Lords MC members are nothing but sin come to life.
“You can talk to me about anything. Particularly Easy and Michigan. They treating you okay?”
I can feel myself blanching. “Does everyone know?”
“Everyone in the club, probably. They have a reputation. Outside the club? Maybe? Maybe not? There are some women who’ve been at the club long enough that they might guess.”
Or women who they’ve shared is what Pippa probably means. My stomach clenches at the thought of another woman being in between the two of them. I don’t like that. I want what happens between the two of us to be special.
Pippa reads me easily. “Don’t think about their pasts. It will make you crazy. Focus on the future you want with them.”
She pegs it exactly but it’s easier to dispense advice rather than act on it, no matter how on-point or thoughtful it is.
“I’m out of my depth. I’ve gone from driving my safe Toyota to operating exotic machinery that could crash at the slightest wrong touch.”
“Those men don’t look breakable to me.”
“Really? How about me? Don’t I look breakable?”
She reaches over to cup my shoulders and gives me a long look. Pippa and I are opposites in nearly every way. She’s curvy with an hourglass figure and striking red hair. When she walks down the street, people stop and stare. It’s no wonder Judge, a long-time bachelor, took one look at her and fell hard.
I’m tall, thin, gangly. My boobs are nothing to speak of and my hair is a limp, thin mass of brown. I don’t understand how these two gorgeous men could be interested in me.
“You’re beautiful and strong, Annie. Don’t forget it.”
“How do I hold on to them?” I whisper.
“You don’t. You love them. Love is the glue that binds you all together. You can’t make them stay by being something you’re not. Be yourself. It’s what attracted them in the first place. And let it go from there.”
Wise words.
“Is it wrong to want them both?”
“No,” she says. “Not wrong at all. Michigan and Easy are a unit. They fought together, survived terrible conditions together. They are important to each other and while lots of women might have wanted to take a ride with them, it was only temporary. It takes a special person to be willing to accept both of them.” She shudders. “Two men to pick up after? You’re really asking for it.”
Their house is immaculate and the hotel room was clean when I stepped out of the bathroom. “Picking up after them doesn’t seem to be number one on their priority list of things to do.”
“It sounds like you have an ideal situation then. Don’t overthink it, Annie.”
Chapter Fifteen
Annie
“Tell me more about this Van Beasley,” Father asks as he watches me flit around the kitchen. The roast has been simmering all day in the crock-pot and when I go to check on it, the meat breaks apart at the first touch of the fork. The roasted brussels sprouts are warming in the oven and I just have to mash the potatoes and make the roux for the gravy. A quick look at the clock says I have fifteen minutes. I hope I made enough food. Easy could probably eat one roast himself.
“Um, he’s twenty-nine and Mrs. Wilkins’ oldest grandson.”
“Hmm…and how did you meet again?”
I’ve told him many times but I repeat the story once more. “At the library. He came in to check out the latest Lee Child book.”
“Did he invite you out then?”
“No, not until the coffee shop.” I’m beginning to feel like a suspect in a cop show where they grill you a thousand times until you make a mistake and then they point and say “Gotcha!” I’ve not lied to Father about how Easy and I met. I didn’t have to. I’m only keeping out that I’ve had sex with him…and Michigan.
“Is that the knitting class you took?” He frowns over his spectacles. And again it’s as if he wants to catch me in a lie.
“Yes, with Mrs. Wilkins and a few of her friends. You recommended it, remember, Father? And afterward Mrs. Wilkins called you to come and pray with her.”
That was the night I went to Easy and Michigan’s house. Where they undressed me, kissed every inch of my skin, and then took my virginity. Or I gave it to them. The memory of that night makes me hot and I turn to hide my reaction. I lift the crock-pot lid on the pretense of smelling the food but really I’m seeking cover for my flush.
The doorbell rings. I rush to the door and open it. Easy’s there, grinning at me. I want to throw myself into his arms but I settle for giving him a return smile. He places a hand around my waist and drags me toward him and we’re almost kissing before I remember my father standing behind me. I draw back and Easy looks at me with regret.
“Sorry,” I mouth.
He shakes his head and gives me a wry smile. “Forgot myself.”
“Come on in.” I gesture and he steps in front of me. He left his colors at home and instead is wearing a white button-down shirt and jeans. I glance beyond him to the truck he has parked on the curb.
Everything about this seems wrong. He’s missing his cut. He isn’t riding his motorcycle. The shirt he’s wearing is a bit small. It’s unbuttoned around the neck and cuffs and I don’t think it’s an intentional style note. I think the shirt is just too small and I wonder if he’s borrowed it from someone. My heart squeezes with the effort he’s putting forth and I want to throw myself into his arms and kiss him so hard that his lips are bruised.
“Father, this is Easy.” I use his road name. If we’re going to have a relationship, then Father needs to accept him, colors, road name, club and all.
“Mr. Beasley, nice of you to come and have dinner with us.�
��
“Thanks, Pastor Bloom, but as your daughter says, I go by ‘Easy.’”
Father’s lip curls up. “Nicknames are for children.”
Oh, this is a very bad idea. “Easy, can you come and help me in the kitchen?”
“Sure, baby,” he says without thinking. I wince. He winces. Father glares.
“Sorry,” Easy mutters when we’re inside the kitchen. Only a thin wall separates the dining room for the kitchen so I bang a couple of lids into the sink to cover my response.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I should’ve known better. Let’s just get through this. Pippa helped me put my resume together and as soon as I get a job, I’m out of here.”
“You know you can come live with us anytime.”
“Thanks, but I think it’s best if I have my own place.”
“If that’s what you want.”
The needy, greedy girl in me wants to throw the pot roast into the trash, climb onto Easy’s hog and ride to their home. But I can’t rely on the two of them for everything. I need to show them how valuable I am. Just like I did with Father. I’m going to pay my own way and pamper the two of them so that they’ll never get tired of me and leave. Not like my mom did. Not like my father would like to do.
I thrust the pot roast in Easy’s arms and grab the salad and the brussels sprouts.
“Hope you like brussels sprouts.”
He eyes the little cabbages skeptically. “Will you throw me out if I don’t?”
“No, but vegetables are good for you. You do eat them, right?”
“I eat corn on the cob.”
“Fair enough.” I lodge that into my memory bank. I’ll make the best corn on the cob every night for him if we make it through this without bloodshed.