Family Forever

by Valerie J. Clarizio

  “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just, how on earth do you find the time?”

  “That’s just it, I don’t have the time. That’s why I need your help. Do you think you can find something around here to make for tonight?”

  There was enough food in this house to cover an entire year. Tonight shouldn’t be a problem. “What time do you like to eat?”

  “Usually about six or so, but since me and Aric are helping with the milking tonight seven would be better.”

  Dylan left her in the pantry to decide what to prepare for dinner. She pulled a quart and a pint of venison and a quart of carrots from the shelf, traipsed back over to the freezer and pulled out an eight-pack of frozen biscuits. She thought the venison might taste good over rice.

  As she worked a sense of relief floated over her. Finally, a job, which she desperately needed. She had made some money along the way babysitting for neighboring farmers’ kids but she was never able to get a real job in town because she had no means of transportation. But here, she could simply walk to work. No problem. And working for Dylan Jacobs, well that was just a bonus.

  She finished with her spring cleaning tasks, began making dinner and setting the table.

  Dylan and Aric came in from the barn. Aric was griping about having to help.

  “Would you just stop already,” Dylan snapped. “It’s not like you have to help every day. The farmhands need days off too, and when that happens, we fill in.”

  “Dinner’s almost ready,” Marissa chimed, hoping to lighten the mood.

  “Great, we’ll clean up and be right back,” Dylan replied.

  “I’m starving,” Aric added.

  * * * *

  Dylan relaxed under the hot spray of the shower. At least now he didn’t have to worry about making dinner for everyone too. On Sundays anyway. This was going to be great.

  He slid into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and followed the scent of venison to the kitchen. Braden, Nate, and Luke were already seated. Aric’s heavy footsteps were pounding down the stairs.

  Glancing at the table, Dylan counted five place settings. He caught Marissa’s harried gaze. “Aren’t you going to join us?” he asked, hoping he didn’t have to run her home right away, he was starving himself.

  Her eyes widened with surprise. “I just thought I was cooking for you guys. I didn’t know I was supposed to stay.”

  “You don’t want to stay?” Braden asked.

  “Well of course, but…”

  “Nate, grab another place setting,” Dylan directed.

  Dylan and Aric took their spots at the narrow ends of the table as Nate and Luke took their spots on either side of him. Braden took his spot between Luke and Aric.

  His baby brother leaned toward him, motioning him to come closer as if he were going to tell him some major secret.

  “What’s up, buddy?”

  “I want to sit by Marissa,” he commented in a stage whisper.

  He caught Marissa’s approving smile. And due to Luke’s fear of outsiders, he thought it wise to accommodate his brother’s request.

  “Okay. Braden, please move to the other side of the table and let Marissa sit in your spot.”

  Braden moved without argument. Still working to impress the housekeeper. Dylan decided he would work that angle for as long as he possibly could.

  After placing all the serving bowls on the table, Marissa took a seat next to Luke.

  The boys sat silently for a moment, staring at the scarce amount of food on the table.

  Marissa swung her puzzled gaze at each of them. “Is something wrong? It’s venison, over rice?”

  Dylan could see Aric working to hold back his laughter. He shot him a hard-eyed scowl, though nearly laughing himself. He hadn’t thought to inform the poor girl as to how much boys ate, especially Aric and Braden at their ages. The amount of food she cooked wouldn’t likely feed more than Aric, Braden, and Nate. Luke, well he hardly ate anything, so he could be thrown in the mix as well.

  Panic flashed in her eyes, he knew he better say something soon.

  “Everything is fine. It looks great, right, boys?”

  They nodded, and Aric reached for the bowl of rice and lobbed nearly one-third of it onto his plate. “Every man for himself.”

  He knew his brother wouldn’t be able to just shut up and share proportionately.

  “I’m sorry, it’s not enough? I guess I didn’t know how much to make,” she stammered as her teary gaze met his.

  Was she really going to cry over this? “It’s okay. How could you have known? I should have given you some idea as to how much food to make.”

  “There’s pie, too.”

  “You made pie? What kind?” Nate, the sweet tooth, asked.

  She glanced at Nate. “No, but there must be some left from what the lady brought over yesterday.”

  Nate looked at her like she was an alien.

  She swung her gaze back to him, and it nearly broke his heart to tell her that her quick backup plan was no good, the pies were gone. Dylan shook his head.

  “You guys ate two full pies last night?” The pitch of her voice rose to a squeak.

  Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes watered a bit more.

  “Marissa, it’s fine. This is not a crisis,” Dylan said as he stood, grabbed the rice bowl from Aric and split the remainder among his brothers. “Start with that, and by the time you’re done, I’ll have more made.” It would only take a few minutes to heat more canned venison and make more minute rice.

  She sprang to her feet. “I’ll go get another jar from downstairs.” She paused and looked back at him. “One more jar will do it, right?”

  He couldn’t help but smile at her. “Yeah, but make sure it’s a quart jar.”

  Chapter Four

  Dylan and Lora had just settled into their seats at the movie theater when his cell phone buzzed. She gave him the annoyed look she always did when that happened. They had gone out seven or eight times now, and his brothers tended to call at the drop of a hat on each occasion. This time, he’d intentionally chosen the late show, with the thought that at least putting Nate and Luke to bed before he left would curb any reason for his brothers to call and interrupt his date.

  He reached for his phone and Lora quickly gripped his forearm and glared at him. Yep, it was an ultimatum, one in which she would surely not like the outcome. He needed to check and see who it was, he had responsibilities.

  The movie was just starting. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered as he scooted out of their row and headed toward the lobby. In the meantime, his phone had stopped vibrating but started again before he reached a quiet spot in the corner of the entryway. Surprisingly, it wasn’t his brothers, Marissa’s dad’s home number flashed across the screen.

  “Hello.”

  Her sobs reverberated in his ear.

  “Marissa, what’s wrong?”

  She didn’t answer. She just kept crying.

  Panic shot through his veins. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

  He waited a moment, hoping she’d catch her breath.

  “I need help. I have to go get my dad.”

  “Where is he, what happened?”

  “Louie, the bartender from the Rusty Combine, called and said if someone doesn’t pick my dad up, pronto, he’s going to call the cops. He can’t go back to jail, he just can’t.”

  “Okay, calm down. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes and we’ll go get him.” Luckily, her home was on the way or it would take longer.

  He hurried back into the theater to get Lora. He didn’t make any friends, interrupting the beginning of the show like he did.

  She leaped to her feet and followed him to the truck. “What’s going on? Did one of your brothers get hurt?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Is your house on fire?” she asked with more attitude than necessary. But on second thought he couldn’t really blame her for being mad since he just hauled her out of the movie theater as if the
shit was hitting the fan. And every date they’d been on so far had been full of family interruptions. He needed to remember that she was only twenty-two, and he was living the life of a man twice his age, knocking on the door of fifty.

  “It’s the neighbor girl. I need to help her with her dad.”

  “Seriously, you need to help her? Why doesn’t she just call her uncle to pick her drunk dad’s ass up like usual?”

  Did she really just say that out loud? This was a small town, everyone knew everyone’s business. But still, to say it out loud so cold and heartlessly.

  “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe she couldn’t reach him.”

  “Her uncle is probably on the stool next to her dad.”

  Ouch. True colors.

  Marissa sprang through the front door the second he pulled into the driveway. She opened the front passenger door before she realized someone was sitting there. Even in the darkness the pink in her cheeks was noticeable, not to mention the red streaks in the whites of her eyes. His heart went out to her. This poor girl lived with these circumstances way too long, and they started at way too young of an age.

  She climbed into the backseat without a word.

  He glanced back at her as she swiped the tears from her cheeks. “Marissa, you need to let me know what’s going on before I go in there to get him.”

  She swallowed audibly. “I guess he’s trying to pick fights with everyone.”

  Great. Though her dad was a small man, his reputation of being a scrapper was well-known.

  “It might be best if I go in with you. He’s usually fairly receptive to me or my uncle when we have to pick him up.”

  Dylan knew she was probably right, but he still hated the fact she had to witness her dad’s drunken behavior.

  In less than five minutes, he pulled into the parking lot of the packed bar. Why wouldn’t it be, it was a weekend night.

  Lora stayed in the truck while he and Marissa went into the bar. It didn’t take but a second to locate her father. He was arguing with the bartender about why he wouldn’t serve him another drink. Just what he needed—another drink.

  The bartender nodded empathetically at Marissa. Dylan stayed one step behind her for support. He saw no reason to step ahead of her since she’d indicated she’d been through this routine before.

  “Dad.”

  He didn’t acknowledge her and kept up with the bartender.

  “Dad,” Marissa repeated as she reached up and touched his shoulder.

  Instantaneously, her father turned while swinging his fist, catching his daughter square in the jaw. She yelped in pain and Dylan caught her as she fell. If she hadn’t been in his arms, he would have plastered that good-for-nothing drunk. But a quick glance let him know he didn’t need to, the bartender was already standing between her dad and them. Her father's eyes filled with tears. Dylan could only assume he’d just realized he punched his own daughter. He was no longer an immediate threat, and Dylan was sure her dad never really meant to be one.

  Looking down at Marissa, he caught her stunned gaze.

  “Are you okay?”

  She blinked teary eyes.

  “Marissa?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  The bar was near silent, and all eyes were on them. He just wanted to get Marissa out of this awful, appalling situation.

  He kept a protective arm slung around her and motioned for her dad to follow them.

  Her father stood, frozen in place, staring at his daughter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

  “Let’s just go,” she whispered cutting him off.

  When they got to his truck, Dylan handed Marissa his keys and instructed her to follow him and her dad. He spun and eyed Mr. Geyer. “Give me your keys.”

  He handed them over without hesitation.

  Dylan’s hands gripped the steering wheel of the crappy old truck, reeking of cigarette smoke. It crossed his mind to grab the blubbering drunk in the passenger seat and shake some sense into him, but he guessed that wouldn’t do any good anyhow.

  The man swiped his wet face with his shirtsleeve, rocked back and forth, and mumbled apologies.

  He was sorry all right, Dylan thought, a sorry excuse for a father. No apology was going to make up for what he did to his daughter tonight. None. Dylan could only assume this wasn’t the first time something like this happened, but if he had anything to say about it, it would be the last time this happened. His heart went out to Marissa.

  Though he had a lot he wanted to say to the pathetic man, Dylan spoke not a word during the short ride to the Geyer house. Nothing he would say would help, and the unkind words lingering on his tongue would probably only add fuel to the fire.

  Dylan parked Mr. Geyer’s truck by the front steps, and he and Geyer slid out of the vehicle. He followed him into the house, Marissa was on their heels.

  Once in the kitchen, Geyer's shameful gaze landed on his daughter. “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t realize it was you who grabbed me.” Tears still ran down his thin, unshaven cheeks.

  “I know.”

  Dylan swung his gaze between the two of them. She’d already forgiven her dad, just like that. He certainly didn’t understand why or how she could be so forgiving. But how could he? He never walked in her shoes.

  He turned and reached for the door but the apprehension coiling in the pit of his stomach caused him to spin back around, just in time to catch Mr. Geyer eyeing the bottle of whiskey sitting on the cluttered kitchen table. After all that happened, less than twenty minutes ago, the man was already ready to hit the bottle again. Why not, she forgave him. He was good to go again.

  Dylan stepped back into the center of the small kitchen and caught Marissa’s humiliated gaze. He guessed she caught her dad eyeing the bottle too.

  “Pack a bag, Marissa.”

  “What?”

  “Pack a bag, I’ll wait,” he instructed again as he met Mr. Geyer’s gaze.

  The man didn’t say a word, and it broke Dylan’s heart to know that he wouldn’t. It was evident her dad wanted—no needed—that bottle of whiskey more than his own daughter, and Dylan guessed Geyer knew he wasn’t leaving without her. Or was it that the man was so ashamed of what he had done, he wouldn’t be able to face his daughter when, or if, he ever sobered.

  Marissa looked at her dad and he nodded. She opened her mouth and he held his hand up.

  The poor girl cried as she walked down the hall. She was gone for only a minute or so before she returned with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder. Her dad had already poured himself a glass of whiskey and lit up a cigarette. He didn’t even look at her as she walked around the table toward the door. He was a selfish, sorry man in Dylan’s book.

  Dylan caught Lora’s eye roll as he and Marissa climbed into his truck. This had certainly turned out to be some date.

  Neither woman spoke as he drove Lora home. He pulled up beside Lora’s trailer, located next to her parent’s home on the family farmstead. Before he could reach her side of the vehicle to get her door for her, she’d already slid out and was stomping toward her front door.

  He caught up with her on the steps. “I’m sorry our date was ruined.”

  “Our dates are always ruined, and you’re always sorry,” she snapped back.

  “Well, what did you want me to do?”

  She paused and sucked in a breath. Her gaze softened as she reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. He knew what was coming, he’d seen that look before in women’s eyes. “Dylan, you are a nice man, too nice.” She shot a quick glance toward his truck where Marissa waited. “Not everybody’s problems are your problems. Your brothers I kind of get, but I’m just not ready for that.”

  What she said wasn’t a big surprise to him. The fact of the matter was he had no room in his life for her or anyone else who didn’t accept that he came as a package deal with five brothers. Deep down he needed to accept the fact he was going to be lonely for a while, in terms of the opposite sex anyhow.
<
br />   Chapter Five

  Marissa’s eyes popped open. She was lying on Dylan Jacobs’s couch. So last night wasn’t a dream. My dad made the final decision to choose whiskey over me. Tears flooded her eyes again. In her heart she knew he loved her, but his addiction to alcohol was too strong to let him make the right decision. At least she wasn’t a child anymore. She had options. She would have been leaving home this coming August anyhow to go to college. What difference does leaving a few months earlier than anticipated make? Dylan had told her the night before she could stay as long as necessary. Everything will be fine.

  She caught a glimpse of Aric coming down the staircase before he darted into the kitchen.

  “Why is Marissa sleeping on the couch?” he asked.

  “It’s a long story. I’ll explain it later,” Dylan replied in a loud whisper.

  The voices of his other brothers gradually grew louder. “Hey, you guys need to be quiet and eat. Marissa’s trying to sleep. And we need to leave for church in fifteen minutes.”

  Church. Marissa missed going to church. Her dad used to take her but stopped after she confirmed. Almost daily, she longed for the fulfillment she felt when she attended regularly. And after last night, she could use some religious support. Marissa flung the covers back and sat up. She needed to hurry, she wanted to go with them. All gazes landed on her when she entered the kitchen in her pajamas. “Can I go too?”

  Dylan cocked his head to the side. “You want to go to church?”

  “Yes.”

  He raked his gaze over her. “Okay, but we need to leave in fifteen minutes.” He zoned in on the duffle bag in her hand. “You can use the master bathroom to get ready.”

  She spun on her heel, flew through his bedroom and into his bathroom where she halted on a dime the second the scent of his woodsy-scented aftershave penetrated her nostrils. She’d caught a good whiff of him the night before when she fell into him at the bar and couldn’t stop inhaling, even with all the crap going on around her. Now, here she was again, standing like a fool in his bathroom, simply inhaling. Thank goodness no one could see her.