by Jo Willow
Anton was pacing his office now, visibly excited. That could either be a good or a bad thing, he was about to find out.
“I don’t know why none of the rest of us thought of this.”
He stopped in front of his brother’s desk and looked at him, an expression of awe on his face.
“Deacon, Dor’ was right. You are brilliant.”
“I’m devilishly handsome too. You left that out.”
“Shut up asshat and listen. I’m on to you, tell me how to help.”
“Help? Help with what? Anton please explain and then remove yourself.”
“Oh I’m not going anywhere. You’re gonna use the book to keep her in your life, aren’t you? You’re gonna keep making her rewrite it because that keeps her tied to you! It’s despicably genius and romantic. She’ll like the romantic part if she doesn’t shove the first draft up your ass and the second one down your throat. How many are you gonna make her write? Damn Deacon. Pierce is gonna love this!”
Deacon stood and gave his brother the ten yard death stare.
“Anton, how evil do you think I am? This has nothing to do with keeping her in my damned life! If I wanted Dorothy Lincoln in my life, she’d be in my life. I’d call her up, demand her presence, and she’d show the fuck up. Granted, I lost my head and got confused for a bit but I’m working through that. Why would I wade back into that gator infested swamp?”
Anton looked deflated.
“So you’re telling me that you genuinely didn’t like the book? Honestly?”
“I didn’t say that I didn’t like it, I’m saying that I think it could be better. There were gaps a mile wide in there and I think they need to be addressed. Does the book prove that she’s talented? Yes. But I knew that when I hired her. Anton, she stands to make a great deal of money off of this venture, and my reputation is on the line. I want her to get it right.”
Anton scrutinized his brother carefully. He saw nothing in his demeanor that suggested that he was being less than honest. Deacon was actually planning on making her rewrite the book. Then his face lit up as something else occurred to him.
“Can I be there when you tell her? You know. In case you need back-up or an ambulance?”
Deacon ran his hands through his hair - again - and rested his elbows on the desk with his face in his hands.
“Anton? Please leave. You’re on my last good nerve and my patience is now at the breaking point. I’m calling her today before I leave and telling her the news. If you want to be here, be here at quitting time.”
Anton stood and nodded at his brother. He seemed satisfied and Deacon questioned whether or not that should be making him nervous.
“I’ll be here Deke and I’ll bring Pierce with me. We should probably all be on the same page with this when it blows up.”
“Why do you think this will blow up? Dorothy is a very reasonable woman. This is purely a business arrangement and I’m telling you, she’ll understand.”
Anton laughed with his hand on the doorknob.
“And I’m telling you, she’s a woman. She invested her time and her heart in you and that book and you’re about to tell her it sucks as it stands. If I were you’d I’d park the Porsche in an undisclosed location for a little while. Trust me on this Deke. I’ve pissed off enough women in my time to know how this is gonna go.”
Deacon rolled his eyes and waved him off.
“You don’t know MY woman. She’ll take it in stride and rework it in a week.”
“You’re woman? Did you just call Dorothy Lincoln YOUR woman? Wait until Pierce hears THIS.”
“You two are like two old women around a clothesline. You need lives. Or maybe new jobs. Something challenging that’ll give you something to do besides sit around and gossip about the boss...”
“Alright, alright, I’m gone.”
He opened the door, walked out and peeked back around the doorjamb.
“I’m still telling Pierce though.”
“Asshat.”
Deacon heard his brother’s laughter as he walked towards the elevator.
Deacon swiveled around in his chair and took in the view. Anton had been so close to the truth it had damn near stolen his breath. Had he become that transparent where Dorothy was concerned? That was an issue best explored after decent rest and maybe a drink or two. He was more inclined to count his lucky stars at the moment.
He knew he had to call her. Yes he was nervous, but that was no excuse for rudeness. They’d been friends. Good friends. He was hoping that time and distance would be like hitting a reset button, but it wasn’t feeling that way. It was beginning to feel like she was slipping through his fingers and he didn’t like that one bit.
Deacon rubbed a spot over his heart without thinking and considered his options. He could do the smart thing and tell her the book was perfect as it was and walk away, but that would be the end of his association with her. That wasn’t a supposition, that was a fact. She’d left the ball in his court and he’d picked it up and carried it home. Game over. It was too late to propose two out of three, if he wanted to play he’d have to start a brand new game. A new game with new rules. This is where it got tricky. He knew her. If she agreed to play again, and he wasn’t positive she would, it would have to be the long game and she’d play for keeps. What else could she do? Was he ready for that?
Anton was right. He needed a vacation. It couldn’t be a long one, he had obligations, and it had to be somewhere quiet. He needed somewhere to think and recharge. By the time he got back, he’d have the answers he needed and he’d be prepared to act on them.
That decided, he started perusing his options.
I’d turn my head, but I’d finally found a comfortable position. It had been many years since I’d suffered from a hangover and now I remembered why I didn’t do stupid crap like drinking all night, anymore. Still, it had been fun. We’d stayed up drinking wine and listening to old records while they told me stories about all three boys growing up. Getting drunk with Bree and Grant had been well worth the morning after.
There it was again. The reason I was awake. My cell phone played my sister’s ringtone and I reached over trying to grab it without moving my head. Success was granted during the third pass of Heart’s Barracuda (private joke).
“What?”
“Oh that’s nice Dorothy. What if it had been mom or dad?”
“They’re not Barracuda. You are. What do you want?”
“You did NOT give me Barracuda.”
“Yes, I did. Is this important? Because if it’s not, I need about twenty minutes in the bathroom, a toothbrush, and a vat of water. Then I’ll refill the vat with coffee.”
“Dorothy should I be concerned? You’re not at home and you’re hungover. I’ve seen this movie on Pay-per-View. It was a mediocre comedy at best and so not your style. Where are you?”
“Oh no you don’t. You don’t need to know where I am. I’ll be home Sunday night. If you or anyone else needs me, it can wait until then.”
There was a pause while I waited for my sister to circle the wagons.
“Dor’, did he run you out of town? Is it that unbearable without him?”
“Oh for the love of... Melody, I’m in a holding pattern. I can’t take on a new client until I’m done with this one and I’m making myself crazy waiting. I decided to take a few days and get out of town while I had the chance. Once I start rewrites or a new book, I’m back to work. Quit reading too much into this. Please.”
“So who were you drinking with last night?”
“Nice try but no cigar. If I tell you THAT, you’ll know where I am. Sis’, lighten up and believe me when I say I’m safe and not alone. Anything else?”
I could almost hear the pout in her voice.
“I wanna run away too. Can I come?”
“Nope. I’m already gone. I’ll see you Sunday or Monday.”
“Fine. Bye.”
The call was disconnected and I couldn’t help but laugh at her petulance. M
y head started throbbing and I knew that further sleep was futile. Besides, I could smell bacon. There’s no sleeping when you can smell bacon and anyone that tells you different is lying. Mmm...bacon.
I ambled across the hall with my small essentials bag and my bathrobe in hand, and closed the door. The bathmat was damp so I knew I was probably the last one up. Then again they did have cows to milk. As I was brushing my teeth, I wondered if they ever got to take a vacation. Who would work the farm? They seemed to love their life, but could I live it? Uncertainty took a seat in the living room of my farm dream for the first time and I found myself frowning at myself in the mirror.
After my shower and attitude adjustment, I felt slightly better but I still needed something in the aspirin classification and some caffeine. After donning another pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I slipped on a pair of moccasins and bounced down the stairs. I was putting the finishing touches on my ponytail when I skidded to a stop in the kitchen.
“Quit grinning. I can feel you grinning and this is all your fault.”
Grant was seated at the table with a cup in front of him that looked like a TV prop. It looked like a soup bowl with a handle and it was filled with dark, hot coffee. His chin was resting on his hand and I couldn’t help but think that if Deacon aged anything at all like this man, some lucky woman was going to be happier than hell.
His hair was messy as if he’d only moments ago crawled out of bed. The familiar denim shirt was in place as well as his jeans and work boots. I looked over and Bree smiled and did her best not to smirk. She looked none the worse for wear in a pair of Bermuda shorts and a pale pink gingham sleeveless blouse. She was scrambling eggs and it appeared to be any other day for Bree Sloan. I envied her. My eyes returned to Grant.
“Dad do you need help this morning?”
His face perked up and he looked at me suspiciously.
“You’re willing to help?”
“I’m looking forward to it actually. If you’ve got aspirin and another cup like that one, I’ll be good to go in no time.”
He reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and tossed a small bottle of aspirin my way, while Bree filled my coffee cup. She placed the cup, a small pitcher of cream and a sugar bowl on the table. Interesting. I looked at her and she winked.
“Deacon happened to mention that you took your coffee the same way and I remembered. Have a seat Dor’. Digest your pills and your coffee and have breakfast with us. Then you two can go out back and take care of business. It’s early yet.”
“Yes Ma’am. Thank-you.”
I sat down to the left of Grant and patted his hand. He looked over and we exchanged sympathetic smiles before we both started giggling. He wiped his eyes and took a sip of coffee.
“We really tied one on last night didn’t we?”
I elbowed him and leaned in.
“I don’t do that you know. Ever. Deacon’s never even seen me drunk. Melody called this morning and pouted because I told her she couldn’t join me.”
“Your sister knows where you are?”
“Hell no! I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid. She’d be here by this afternoon, but only after she called to see if Pierce was free to join her. That would lead to the other two Stooges finding out and there goes my weekend! No siree Bob. This is our time together and I’m gonna be selfish with it. Is that okay with you two?”
My eyes shifted between them and I got nothing but warm smiles in return. They were enjoying my company as much as I was enjoying theirs.
My farm dream was back in full swing by the time we’d finished milking the cows. I think I love cows. Grant and I bathed them after we milked them and they almost acted grateful. They have such big, pretty eyes and they’re so warm when you lean against them. Grant told me that was all well and good until one of them stepped on my foot. Then we’d talk again. Bree promised to teach me how to churn butter this afternoon and I’m strangely excited. If my folks could see me with udders in my hands or working a butter churn, they’d commit me for a seventy-two hour eval. I am a Lincoln after all. I could remind them of Abe’s humble beginnings, but somehow I don’t think they’d see the humor.
All in all, I was having a great time. I realize that many of you would question that because I am, after all, only twenty-six. I would assert at this time that I’m a very mature twenty-six and remember who my parents are. I’ve lived in the fast lane since I could walk. If I was with my mother, I was photographed. If my father was present, I was subjected to business discussions and ass-kissers. Melody and I had no hope of a “normal” home life. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not doing a “poor little rich kid” thing here, I’m merely trying to explain why a nice quiet farm life might appeal to me. I mean I can write anywhere there’s high-speed internet. Right? Right. Nothing in the Writer’s Handbook says that you have to live in a major city or in a high rise apartment somewhere. Let’s just get that out there.
Okay. Back to what happened next, because if you’ve been following so far, you’ll face palm and shake your head at my freakin’ luck.
I never expected to be dressed in white from head to toe until my wedding day. And even then, depending on fashion trends, it wasn’t a given. My mother and sister would certainly have something to say about it. I’ve always thought that should I actually find someone crazy enough to want to promise me and Spock forever, I’d turn the wedding over to them and just show up on time. Works for me. Anyway...
By the time Grant had me “suited up”, you couldn’t tell us apart other than by height. We were in white cover all type things with a white hat that draped netting down to our shoulders. Thick gloves and boots completed the ensemble. When I expressed zero fear of the bees, he’d gotten all excited about someone to hold the containers for him, while he took the honey and comb from the hives and dropped them into the black buckets. As he explained to me, the bucket had a mesh bottom that screwed into another bucket on a stand. After making sure the lid was on good and tight on the top one, we’d put the whole thing in the sun and the warmed honey would filter down through the comb and the mesh and collect in the bottom bucket where we could can it later. He promised me a jar of honey to take home and that worked for me.
Bree made a grocery run because we decided to cook out on the grill and she wanted to pick up a few things. I told her to take my car so that she didn’t have to drive Grant’s truck. Her eyes lit up and I smiled and told her to take her time and have fun. Dang I loved these two.
Grant had a dozen hives, all painted bright white and all buzzing with activity. I mean that literally. There’s nothing that sounds like a large gathering of dangerous, productive insects. It’s unnerving because you can almost feel the hum in your bones and you know, without a doubt, that they were gonna be pissed beyond belief when we started stealing what they’d worked so hard for.
At first I stood at the periphery and watched. Grant had this weird little pointy thing in his hand that looked like a smoking watering can. He explained patiently that the smoke made the bees sluggish and I asked what was burning in the can, and if stoned bees made better honey. He ignored me and went to work.
He smoked the hive and the hum took a slightly different pitch. The bees moved slower and he motioned me over. I stood beside him, perfectly still, holding my bucket like a good little assistant.
Thirty minutes later, we had this rhythm going and we were working together like a well oiled machine. While he smoked the bees, I screwed my bucket into it’s receiving end and grabbed a fresh one. By the time the bees were smiling with the munchies, it was time to rob them blind. Grant slid out the sleeve, I held the bucket below it to catch all of it and he scraped. Back and forth we went like we’d been working together forever. We didn’t say much, but I think that was more to keep the hives settled.
It takes concentration to work around hives. The bees might be sluggish, but they aren’t blind. They don’t care for being robbed and landed on us regularly to voice their opposition. I didn’t get stung, but
I was well aware of the possibility.
We were a little over halfway through, when our concentration was broken by a tentative voice. A voice I’d know anywhere.
“Mom? Dad?”
I look nothing like his mother. I have wavy blonde hair and green eyes. Bree has auburn hair and gray eyes. Then I remembered how I was dressed. Bree had my car and he had no idea I’d be there. He assumed his parents were working with the hives. He was still maybe fifty feet away, electing to keep his distance. I remembered Grant told me that none of the boys cared to come near the bees. You know how you have weird thoughts sometimes when you’re in challenging situations? Well I’m the queen of those. My weird thought at the moment was, “I wonder if Grant has a tent I could borrow. I’ll just camp out here near the hives and Deacon won’t come near me all weekend.”
There were two ways to look at this situation. First, I was there first. I’d been invited and I was enjoying myself. Deacon had shown up unannounced and he should be the one to leave. That’s what the selfish Dorothy decided. The logical Dorothy knew that he had every right to spend time with his parents and in fact, I was the intruder. I still didn’t want to leave, but I would to keep the peace. I would never make his parents choose between us, that was ridiculous.
I started to speak to say as much, when Grant put his hand gently on my arm. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I had every intention of following his lead.
“Hi Deke! We didn’t know you were coming back this weekend, you boys were just here. Are your brothers coming as well?”
Deacon put his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground.
“They don’t know I’m here dad. I was hoping to get away for a few days. I’ve been a total prick the last few weeks and I’m not sleeping well. Anton told me that I needed a vacation, but I don’t sleep well in strange beds.”
He looked up at us and I felt the urge to go and hug him. He looked skinny and pitiful. I’m the one that gets the most pitiful puppy or Christmas tree because I’m sure nobody else will want them. I’m a sucker for stuff like that, I can’t help it. Standing right over there, was the most pitiful man I’d laid eyes on in awhile and he looked like he needed a meal, a hug, and a good night’s sleep. To add to the sympathy I was already feeling, he continued.