Savage Love

by J. Jenkins

  Dylan gave an explosive shout, “Am I fuckin' invisible? We're getting married tomorrow and she's got eleven kids-”

  “Eight kids,” his brothers corrected in unison.

  Dylan gave them a harder look than he was giving the besotted fool holding on to her and gritted out from between clenched teeth, “Eleven kids to care for.” He refocused his attention to the bald buffoon who was now caressing her upper arms, “She'll never be free of personal attachments and if by some chance I die her best friend and I have decided he'll legally take her hand, not you or any other man. Now get your sorry ass out of my house before I rip your arms off and beat you to death with 'em.”

  Dylan's words and threats were wasted breath. George had gone deaf the moment he'd looked deeply into Carolina's eyes. He now drew her to him, lifting her off her feet to touch his lips to hers. The hell breaking loose around him had no affect on his single-minded pleasures, the feel and taste of her. Scuffling and shouts, sounds of brute force being applied to restrain Dylan, who was clearly intent on making good his threat, could have been so much gentle air breezing by.

  When her lips were free, Carolina calmly restated her position, “George I'm spoken for. Now put me down and go home. Cliff needs to get Vienna back.”

  He set her free, smiling at her as if they were the only two people on the planet, “Alright, for now Carolina. But, I'll be waiting, will never give up hope you'll be mine. Stuff happens and when you find yourself without a man at your side, I'll come and comfort you, be the best husband and father I can be. In the mean time though, you should know that woman won't stop. She's already offered a bounty on your head but nobody's taking up her proposition. Me and Cliff have spread the word that if anything happens to you, or your children, untold misery will rain down on the perpetrators.” What happened to Dylan or that other man was none of his concern he thought.

  She looked at the three Savage brothers who were still struggling to keep Dylan under control, and then she looked to Patrick who was trying not to appear shocked by the outright unruly bunch thrashing about in the entryway. When she returned her gaze to George she let her anxiousness show on her face, “That's very nice of you and Cliff. Also please remember, and tell Cliff too, not to mention how Vienna got better because if you do I won't be able to help her again and if either of you breaks my confidence I'll be very unhappy. You wouldn't want me to be unhappy would you?”

  “No sweetheart I adore you. If-”

  With a deafening roar that shattered a nearby iron-framed mirror, Dylan broke free from his brothers and tackled George, knocking him off balance and they both went crashing to the floor. Landing on top of the sprawled behemoth, Dylan delivered several powerful blows to George’s jaw and face before Patrick’s strong hands lifted him off the lovesick simpleton. The fool hadn't even tried to defend himself because he was too busy mooning over Carolina.

  Walking over to the sprawled man, she extended a hand to George, helping him to his feet. Quickly she applied her healing touch to the cuts and places on his face that would've surely bruised, setting Dylan off on a tirade of cussing that made even Chris go red in the face. Without further delay, she ushered George to the door where he tried to dig in his heels, but with a strong shove and a wave Carolina got him over the threshold and closed the door. Saying over her shoulder to Patrick, “Will you please let go of Dylan and make sure little Vienna gets back without incident. And Patrick, don't kill those men. You and Dylan will cease your plotting.”

  Dylan spluttered loudly, “We... Us...” He tossed up his hands and gave her a look that could have set an entire base of Marines to shaking in their shoes. “No it's you and all the damn lies you tell. You even went so far as to let us see different men yesterday to keep us from really knowing what went on. Now I have an idea and goddamn it somebody's gonna pay,” he yelled causing nearby windows to rattle.

  In the face of his rage, she remained calm. “Nothing went on.”

  “You didn't sleep with that bald, cock sucking, steroid popping freak.”

  His bold profanity caused her face to redden. “It's not nice to name call and what's with all the potty mouth today. I don't want the babes picking up that language.”

  Dylan's indignation at her hypocrisy caused him to cough before he could say, “You've gotta be kiddin'. You swear like a drunken pirate and even his vocabulary wouldn't be so filthy, but you're giving me the blues for being rightfully pissed because some ass-wipe is in my house with his hands all over you.”

  “I'm going back to bed. When you're in a more reasonable mood we'll talk.”

  “No ma'am, we're gonna discuss this and those new babies right now.”

  She walked past him saying, “I've changed my mind, I'm going to get something to eat and don't bother following me if you're going to be all sour. Your attitude will affect the babies' milk and when they get all colicky, you're going to be the one up walking them throughout the night, not me. Patrick, stop holding Dylan’s hand and go do as I asked. The two of you are getting far too chummy.”

  Jesse chimed in, “You know she's right Dylan all this emotional upset is going to play havoc with your kids-”

  Dylan threw a murderous look in Jesse’s direction, his voice low and menacing, “How about I play havoc with your face if you don’t butt out of my business?”

  Jesse tossed up his hands, “I was just trying to-”

  “I know all to well what you were trying to do. How many times did each one of you do her last night or did those babes just get plucked from the cabbage patch?”

  Carolina stopped in her tracks forcing the men to brake abruptly behind her. She whirled on them, thankful to see Patrick missing from the bunch, hoping he was off doing as she'd asked. “Dylan, your mother, your entire family has pretty much spoiled you rotten. Granted your brothers might have stolen a girlfriend or two from you but the one woman you all loved the most set her heart tirelessly on you and your brothers still love you deeply despite the fact you were her favorite. From what I can tell you're everyone's darling, you're even starting to sway Patrick over to your side. But while others may be willing to put up with your mean, selfish, nastiness I've had all of it I'm going to take. I adore you Dylan Savage, but my feelings will not extend to your constant maligning or disrespect. Your mama knew you'd need a tough woman to put up with your nonsense, and I'm the one for the task, because a gentler creature would have a nervous breakdown putting up with your moods.”

  “Don't bring my Ma into this. You're the one who has created these problems. You deceived both Patrick and me about those men yesterday and-”

  “You and Patrick went snooping around where you weren't invited and you saw what you needed to see. I never deceived you about those men, nor did I fornicate with Cliff, George or Tyler Mitchell. I killed them, then gave them there lives back and unfortunately in the process I guess George became a little infatuated.”

  Chris, Frank and Jesse gave her a stunned look, all three asking, “You did what?”

  She flushed to the roots of her hair mumbling, “Nothing. I didn't do anything.”

  Dylan continued seething, “A little infatuated? He was ready to propose to you.”

  “How many women want to marry you? Can you count the number of times a strange woman has thrown herself into your arms professing undying love?”

  Frank laughed, “Heck naw.”

  Dylan gave Frank a frosty look, “Did anybody ask for your two cents?”

  Chris spoke up, “She's right Dylan. We ask our women to put up with a lot from us, and the careers we’ve chosen. So what if Carolina has a fan or two of her own. You've gotta know she'll always be faithful. That's why we didn't make a move on her.”

  “Not that I wasn't tempted the night she wore that silver dress,” Frank confessed.

  “What about the first day, when she ate that chili? But even back then I could tell she'd beat the hell out of us for getting fresh,” Jesse piped up.

  Chris continued, “Yeah Dylan, yo
u and that headcase ex-wife of yours are the only ones set on making her mad. You're just jealous cause you want to keep her all to yourself, which is next to impossible since you've got eight kids and her best friend acts like the embodiment of Casanova when the fancy strikes him.”

  Dylan poked him in the chest with his forefinger, “We have eleven kids. Those three new babes are mine.”

  Chris slapped his hand away. “She gave 'em to us,” the three brothers growled in unison, staring angrily at Dylan.

  The more she watched Dylan she learned his behavior wasn't about jealousy or anger. Her treacle bear was floundering for his very existence because of the miscarriage. Hoping to diffuse the uncommon tension between him and his brothers, she made her body emit the multitudinously beneficial scents of bergamot and roses. In a buoyant tone she set about clarifying the existence of the three new baby girls, “I didn't actually give you three the sweet babes.” Chris, Jesse and Frank looked at her in stunned disbelief so she told the absolute truth, “Well I didn't. Dylan gave them to you.”

  Abashed, he flushed, scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor, “I did not.”

  Carolina reminded him, “You wished for them to have a baby like Susan.”

  Dylan slapped his thigh, shouting at her, “I'm telling you I didn't wish for them to have anything. Why would I? For years, they've had more love and kids than me and even though they knew I wanted more, did any of them have their wives give anything to me? No they didn't. So they're not getting anything from you.”

  Her voice was gentle, lulling, “You dreamed for them to have those babies last night, made a heartfelt wish that I answered because you love your brothers, their wives and kids. So those babes are staying with their rightful parents.”

  He didn't appreciate her taking their side against him and the pressure in his head and heart cranked up his voice and his level of cruelty, “You should have been so concerned about your pregnancy and you'd still be carrying my seed growing inside your womb. Instead, you miscarried my baby then shamefully ran off into the night to bury the evidence of your disgrace in a field. Even Liz could bear me a real child. I didn't get summoned-up little squealers that I'm too afraid to touch because they might disappear. My brothers can have all of them. If I can't have my blood offspring then I don't want fakes. I wish they'd go back to wherever they came from.”

  Chris grabbed his arm and shook him roughly, “Still your tongue. If Ma were here, such talk would send her to her knees a prayin'. What's the matter with you?”

  Carolina knew what plagued him, the same thing that was eating away at her and he needed to let the punishing poison of the hex out or risk loosing his life for daring to, however unknowingly, attempt to thwart the enchantress' magic. “No don't stop him Chris. Dylan, go ahead and say what’s on your mind.”

  He pulled free of his brother, feeling the excruciating pain in his head and bulging pressure behind his eyes. He swallowed, clearing the tightness from his throat, before he could successfully say, “Honey, forgive me, I didn’t mean the things I said. Since I got up this morning I keep hearing the crying in my head and I'm loosing my grip.”

  Never looking away from him, she told his brothers, “You guys go on and see after your wives and families. I'll take Dylan with me to the nursery.”

  “No I don't want to go up there, not like this. I'm going for a walk. I'll come up in a few minutes. May God have mercy on me? I feel like I'm possessed. Y'all, of course the babies are yours. I wanted y'all to have 'em just like Carolina said.” Not uttering another word, he left with his shoulders drooping.

  Chris tried to comfort her. “We're sorry about the other baby. Dylan didn't tell us. You know he didn't mean any of the things he said just now. He was like this after our parents left. He'll calm down soon. Do you need Vega to come and sit with you?”

  She shook her head. “I'll be alright and Dylan will be too. You guys are great brothers; however, it's time you tend to your own families. Tell your wives everything is all straightened out about your babes.” She hugged them each tightly and waved them off.

  After they were well out of sight, she went to the kitchen for fresh fruit, hazelnuts, lavender honey, madeleines, Texas chili sauce and milk. She carried the bounty upstairs on a tray and pushed open the nursery door, cautiously stepping inside, not wanting to waken her sleeping brood. Sitting the tray on the table beside the overstuffed loveseat, she walked to the cribs and peeked at her resting fairy-babes. “Your dad is really sad that I lost the other baby and so am I but we need and want you all just as much. Patrick, your brothers and the entire family adore you. Don't doubt that we belong together, no matter what you may have heard earlier. It would devastate Papa Dylan if you went away. When he comes back from his walk, I’m going to have him feed you so he’ll start feeling more connected. I'd like your cooperation, especially you little Dylan. He'll be anguished if he can't feel you care for him.” She kissed each of them on their smooth little foreheads then left them snoozing so she could order a green dress to please Justin. With the order placed, she phoned Patrick asking him to pick up her parcel on the way home. Then she went back to the nursery to have her snack, awaiting Dylan's return.

  ****

  Dylan sat at the edge of the lavender field, the sound of the crying in his head now deafening. To drown out the constant wailing he lay back on the warm earth, covering his ears with his hands and started singing the first song that pushed past the screaming in his head, 'How do you mend a broken heart?' He moaned out the bluesy tune, tears leaking from beneath his clenched eyelids. He sang until his throat ached and his chest throbbed but still the baby's crying grew in volume until even the power of his own voice was imperceptible. Then he resolved himself to mouthing the lyrics knowing he couldn't go home until whatever fracture plagued his psyche had healed.

  The feel of a wet rough tongue on his face, the strong smell of doggy breath in his nostrils and a low feral growl made him open his eyes slowly. A large yellow-eyed wolf was snout-to-nose with him and another, standing at his booted feet, nudged his leg with its paw before turning to run into the lavender field. The other wolf sat waiting beside him. Remembering how he'd imagined Carolina that morning, with lavender in her hair, blood and soil on her hands, he guessed the wolves had found the grave she'd dug. He reached out his hand to the wolf and received one of its front paws in return. He then rose to his feet to walk with his animal escort into the field.

  Initially trudging into dense plantings, the transcendental, seven-foot tall lavender shrubs gave way and his journey became easier as he moved forward, the crying no longer just in his head, but coming from the direction in front of him. He started running toward the sound until he entered a clearing with, he knew, his miscarried child's grave, now excavated, at its center, with rays of silvery light illuminating the opening. The crying stopped. He walked forward, holding his breath, allowing his eyes to follow the light down and when he peered into the radiant opening he silently, wondrously, fell to his knees.

  Reaching into the earth, he lifted and examined a pristine cover of white cotton that had embroidered upon it, in radiant blue and silver threads, a message especially for him, the same one that had heralded in Justin’s birth and his own, ‘De Todos Los Dioses’. Bringing the fabric to his nose, he was treated to vaguely familiar scents, and at the moment he touched his lips to the fine needlework, the blanket vanished from his hands. Returning his attention to the opening, he reached into the luminous hollow, to bring forth a whopper of a baby boy that he immediately knew to be his offspring. The baby's eyes were the exact color of Carolina's; he had the Savage tan skin, combined with, his Pa Joe’s unique, silvery-hair and facial features in perfect miniature. Touching the child in wonder, he forgot about his animal companions until they began growling and pawing around the opening. Taking off his shirt, he wrapped his son securely in the warm fabric before laying him carefully atop a bed of lavender.

  Kneeling once again, he reached his hand into the
warm orifice, pushing aside moist earth to withdraw one white leathery cocoon, then another. With shaking hands, he laid each large ovate treasure beside the wriggling baby boy to withdraw a pearl-handled pocketknife from his jeans. Carefully, he barely nicked the strong white shell when sweet, spicy, floral smelling air escaped the small puncture. With a surgeon's light touch, he expertly cut away the husk to reveal a baby girl wrapped in bloodstained denim. Smaller in size than her brother, her nose and mouth resembled Carolina’s perfectly. She had burnt sienna hair with streaks of blond, yet everything else about the little goddess was purely his surrogate mother. The precious bundle had the same golden-almond-shell-brown-skin-coloring and dark-cloud-gray eyes of August. After bestowing a kiss on her brow, he placed her inside the warmth of his shirt, beside her brother. Then Dylan opened the last cocoon to reveal another baby boy of the same impressive size as the first. Like his sister, he too was swaddled in bloodstained denim and there the resemblance ended. This babe's eyes were the deep blue of his own with the same silvery bolts coloring the irises. His skin was alabastrine and his hair was the mahogany-red of Callum and Calder's. Not surprisingly to Dylan at this point, for these were the children of his seed, of his precious honey’s womb and heart, he saw that facially, the little cherub was a dead ringer for Patrick. Adding the boy to his cluster of babies, he then returned his focus to the now empty and dimly glowing opening. The earth at the bottom of the cradle rose up, filling from bottom to top, and he could feel the subtle stirring of the wind carrying the familiar voices of his parents, reminding him of his duty. Closing his eyes, he silently offered thanks and devotion to The Almighty.

  Done with his spiritual solicitations he turned to see the wolves sitting protectively over the babies. He gathered the alert little trio in his arms and rose to his feet. With the wolves leading the way, he walked the distance to the front of the house and used his elbow to ring the doorbell. When his three brothers opened the door, he fought hard not to laugh at the shocked looks on their faces. “Where's Carolina?”