Jones, JQ - Be Our Lady [Davis Hollow, Davis Ranch 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by JQ Jones

  “I love Jeff.”

  “And that means that you can’t love somebody else? After all you guys have been saying for years that you want a third, you need a third, and you need a third that was okay with having kids. Well, you found a third that not only is okay with having kids but can actually have the kids. What’s not to like?”

  “I don’t feel like it’s true to my gay culture.”

  After Cyn stopped laughing, which lasted so long Vanessa came out of the kitchen to see what was so funny, Cyn waved her away after explaining that Linc was having delusions of stupidity.

  “Seriously, you think you should give up on a person based on their gender. Isn’t that kind of, I don’t know, heterophobic or something? You both liked her, she liked you, and you’re having issues ’cause she has a clit.” Cyn slowly shook her head.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway. She went back with her brothers because her grandmother had a dream or something. Just left as soon as that mean-looking brother of hers told her to come on. That doesn’t sound like she was all that into us. I think we were a giggle or something she can think about after she marries some rancher and has a bunch of kids.”

  “When she could be have a bunch of kids with you and Jeff. Moises told me that their abuela is old, controlling, and will either give her approval or not. But it’s obvious that when she says jump all of them say how high. You can’t wait for Willie to come back after the old woman has her say. You and Jeff have to say in no uncertain terms that you want to go forward with the relationship.”

  “You’re not understanding. I don’t know if I can love a woman.”

  “I don’t think you understand. It’s not if you love a woman, but if she loves you,” Cyn said. She finished up her drink and began to wrap back up.

  “I have a very important negotiation to do over the next few days. I was going to go to DC tonight, but I’d have to leave right now so I can stay in front of the new storm. I’ll be at my condo but not available. You and Jeff need to think about what it is you want from Willie. After you figure that out, you might want to tell her.”

  Linc watched his sister climb into her car. He paid the tab and began the long trek up the mountain to the house that now seemed so very empty.

  Chapter Ten:

  Universe Away

  Tears streamed down Willie’s face as she chopped the mountain of onions Adriana, her mother, demanded for the dishes the team of women worked on. She stopped chopping to quickly ate a bowl of cereal. She was at the sink washing her dish when her cousin Manuela and Iona Davis arrived from CJ’s ranch. The Davis ranch was a little over ten miles up a hard-packed dirt road. Manuela and Iona talked to Willie while Mamá muttered under her breath, bouncing back and forth between Spanish and English but always coupled with a heavy sigh. Adriana divvied the cooking chores but then tried to keep her hand in each of them.

  Iona rolled out the tortillas under Adriana’s watchful eye, stopping just before they were too thin. Manuela worked on the flour, lard, salt, and baking powder mixture, adding water as she needed to make them before handing them off to Iona. Willie Mae found herself staring at Iona, looking for bits of Linc in her face. The differences were the first thing you see. Linc was over a foot taller than his sister, but once you knew they were related, it was in the shape of their eyes, and the similarities in the way they crinkled at the corners. But mostly it was that crazy way their smiles spread across their faces. Neither one was the most open of people, but they were definitely brother and sister.

  “What all is on the menu today, Adriana?” Manuela asked. She had another bowl set up for the corn tortillas she would make to accompany the meal.

  Willie’s mother stirred a pork shoulder and some beans on the back burner of her eight-eye range. “Posole, enchiladas—pork, chicken, and shredded shrimp—rice, beans, and for dessert, buñuelos. What more could the old bruja want? I even made the shrimp enchiladas because she’s from Monterrey. But she’ll find something to complain about.”

  Willie slipped on latex gloves to chop the peppers. Working on the ranch gave her plenty of cuts and scrapes, and she didn’t want the pain that pepper juice in a scrape would cause. She tuned into what Iona and Manuela were saying because she knew that they were talking about her reclusive grandmother just as she knew the bruja in question was the tiny little woman staying in the mother-in-law apartment over the garage.

  Already back for two days, Willie had yet to talk to her abuela. The old woman shooed her off each time she saw Willie peak around her door. Her small mother-in-law suite sat unused until the older woman came to visit. In other words the room had been vacant for almost three years.

  “She asked for Cyn’s cell number last night, said she already had the work number,” Iona said.

  “Wait, wait, wait. Your sister Cynthia?” Willie said.

  “Yes, I didn’t know she knew me well enough to know I had a sister, much less want to talk to her,” Iona said. Her husky voice was always a surprise when it rumbled out of her petite body.

  “Abuela knows everybody connected with the family, and anyone she claims as family. She considers CJ and Clint part of her family so when Iona hooked up with CJ, she did whatever spy thing she does to find out all of your business. She especially likes to know who’s related to whom. Nobody knows how she gets her information. We just do as we’re told,” Manuela said. She left off stirring the rice to come over to the island where Willie and Iona stood talking. Adriana replaced Manuela at the rice and added another shake of her special spice.

  “La bruja,” she said. She used a long-handled teaspoon to taste Mannie’s rice. She frowned at the other women in the room as they turned to her in amusement. She was a mild-mannered woman who rarely spoke and even rarer said a bad word against anyone. She cleared her throat as she passed Willie and Iona and turned from the huge pot of rice simmering in a deep cast-iron skillet. “You needed more seasoning.”

  “I do know how to make rice, Adriana. I cook for a living,” Manny said as she squeezed another lime into the dish.

  “You make rice for other people, not that woman,” Adriana said. She alternated between the simmering pots placed on the stove. She took a mound of tortillas from Manuela and began slapping them into a cast-iron skillet. Iona flipped the tortillas as fast as she could but was unable to catch up with the older woman’s tremendous pace. Finally, Iona held up her hand in surrender. Adriana smiled and put away her tortilla makings. She placed her dirty bowl and implements in the sink and began to wash them.

  “Abuela isn’t a witch, Adriana. She’s too commanding and devious for that. More like a sorceress, making us do her bidding. Anyway, when she turned those big, brown, baby-doll eyes on me, I couldn’t get Cyn’s number out fast enough, no questions asked. It’s like a kachina doll came to life.” Iona shuddered slightly before going back to work.

  “But what does Abuela want with Cyn?” Willie asked without looking up from the pile of peppers growing in front of her. “She said she had to talk to me soon, two days ago. I left in a blizzard and left some—well I was having fun. Mo said she asked for me because she had a speaking dream, which is great and I believe her but what good is it to me if she doesn’t tell me what it was and why I had to get here in such a hurry.” Willie put her knife point down onto her wooden chopping block. “I need to go back to West Virginia. I left the wrong impression and it’s very important to me that I correct what I messed up before I mess up something that means a whole lot to me.”

  “She knows you are waiting, but she has something she needs to finish before she can speak to you. She’s…” Adriana paused.

  “A drama queen,” Iona said in her I-think-I’m-talking-to-myself soft voice.

  “Exactly,” Adriana said. The women in the kitchen laughed as Iona ducked her head in embarrassment.

  * * * *

  Willie Mae and Adriana stayed in the kitchen watching pots and talking softly long after Iona and Manuela had returned to the main ranch house around th
ree in the afternoon. For Willie, it had been the longest two days of her life. Two days away from her guys, really less than two, but now she was almost in a frenzy to get back. Her bed was cold and she yearned for her guys. Anytime Willie ventured to her grandmother’s rooms to ask her about her dream, Abuela shushed her and turned back to her telenovela on TV.

  “You okay, mija? You’re not sick or pregnant or anything.” Adriana raised an eyebrow in anticipation of the answer.

  “No Mamá, I’m not sick or pregnant or anything. The ideas you get. I’m just sitting around, thinking about stuff I don’t want to think about. I don’t understand why I couldn’t stay where I was until Abuela was ready for me. I don’t know why she wanted me to come here or what it is I’m supposed to be doing.”

  Adriana said something under her breath in Spanish before she turned to look at her youngest child. “Mija, you are the speaking dream that Abuela gave to me. She came up here, not on a plane that time. In those days she would not fly. She only does now because one of her grandsons will most likely be the pilot. Ernesto had to drive for days to pick her up and bring her back here. Just like now, she came to our ranch, it was the smaller house we had than when you were younger, and sat for almost two weeks. You were already here and already you were our heart of hearts. You had lost so much, but you were not yet three and talking and talking and talking. Your Papá couldn’t sleep because he would get up and make sure that you were okay in your little bed that he made for you. We knew that if Abuela told us that somebody out there wanted you we would have to give you up, but already we loved you. The twins made a wagon for you and dragged you behind them wherever they went. I think Moises took you to high school in his back pack one day, but that might just be talk. They loved their hermanita, especially Moises. He respected your daddy so much that when he lost his mentor, he took you as his connection with him. All I’m saying is to be patient. She’s an old woman. She will talk to you when she talks to you,” Adriana said.

  Willie sat quietly and sniffed, this time not from the onions.

  * * * *

  The late afternoon sun was out and bright, the air dry and just cool enough to require more than a long-sleeved shirt. Riding out with her Papá, Willie took off her all-weather jacket to keep from overheating. They were slowly riding the fence line looking for breaks that needed their attention and they lost some of the five thousand cows on the Davis Ranch. Papá’s three hundred cattle were part of his breeding stock, Dexters, tiny cattle known for their calm personality and ease of handling and perfect for the small ranches that dotted the county. Their conversation shied away from his mother as they discussed the export of some of the stock to New Zealand in the coming year.

  Adriana demanded they be back for a sit-down dinner by six, which would be fully dark. She had already called all of the boys to make sure that they would be there. Only Iona was excused. CJ was due home at the same time, and she was driving in to meet his plane.

  The closer it got to dinner the more Willie’s stomach tied up in a jittery ball. Ernesto, a thin, wiry man, sun bronzed and squinty eyed, sat straight in his saddle. He was a man who had worked ranches all his sixty-two years and had the bowed legs, calloused hands, and stiff joints to prove it. He said very little on most days. Today he didn’t even grunt his usual responses to Willie’s nonstop chatter. Willie was, by and large, quieter than normal, only discussing the weather and shying away from any discussion of her personal life. She watched the line of fence closely and worried her bottom lip.

  As the sun went down, they plodded their way to the barn in the waning light, silent as they brushed their mounts down and walked toward the house.

  “You like this strange thing you do?” Ernesto said. They were heading for the tack room to wash the dust off when he finally spoke.

  Willie didn’t pretend not to understand what he was talking about. She smiled and grabbed her father’s hand as they walked to the house. “I can’t say that I like it but it’s what I intend on doing. Does that make sense?”

  “Sure. Crazy love stuff,” he said.

  “Exactly.”

  * * * *

  Willie looked at her tiny grandmother sitting at the head of the table and wondered how someone who was no more than four feet six inches tall could cast such a huge, powerful presence. Out of the corner of her eye, her mother looked at the meager amount of food on her mother-in-law’s plate, which contained a half of an enchilada and a spoon each of rice and beans. A tiny bowl of posole sat beside her plate untouched.

  “Delores, you eat so little. Is something the matter?” Adriana said. Ernesto sat at the head of the table with his wife on his right and Willie to his left. Willie’s brothers were scattered on each side of the table ending with Manuela and Moises sitting on either side of the elderly woman, who sat in Adriana’s habitual place at the foot.

  “No, my dear. I was just making a note to send you a clay pot so that you can cook my son and grandchildren proper beans. These are…”—she paused for a long beat—“so very modern tasting, but I’m sure that after working so hard they need a real meal with real beans.”

  “I really don’t want to put you out with such a thoughtful gift. You’ve already given me a clay pot for every Christmas that Ernesto and I have been married. So if I’ve not used one in over forty years, I don’t think I’ll use one now.” Adriana filled her husband’s plate with his second helping of enchiladas.

  Willie ate a second helping of posole, one of her favorites, but it was all she could keep down. She half expected Abuela to announce her speaking dream at the table, but almost an hour into the noisy talk-filled meal the old woman spoke very little and not at all to Willie. Manuela caught her eye and offered an exaggerated wink that at least made Willie smile.

  “Maybe you should have used the pots from time to time, Adriana. Ernesto is too thin by far, and mi hermanita has a look of being a little undernourished,” Abuela said. She sniffed at the tiny, tiny bite of enchilada that she had on her fork. After the sniff and a tentative touch of her tongue to the food, she allowed the food into her mouth. Her face screwed into a grimace until she finally swallowed the food.

  “I know the elderly have issues with food, so maybe I can get you a cup of chicken broth. It’s better for older digestion,” Adriana said. She carefully folded her napkin, preparing to leave the table.

  “No, no, no, Adriana. Don’t get up. Thankfully being my age means I can survive until I’m able to get some adequate sustenance,” Abuela said. She delicately sipped a glass of red wine.

  “Oh, I forgot,” Adriana said. “The living dead don’t eat.” Her voice didn’t carry beyond Willie and Ernesto. When Ernesto’s barked laughter rang through the room, everyone but Willie looked at him with question. He took a sip of his wine to cover up his continuing humor.

  By the time Willie brought the buñuelos to the table, her grandmother was standing to leave.

  “None for me, mi niña, I would die of the indigestion. Help me to my room so that we can talk.” Abuela allowed Moises to help her with her chair and graciously allowed her five grandsons to kiss her before she left the room.

  She walked straight and proud but barely reached Willie’s shoulder. She held Willie’s arm with her right hand as she used her left to carry the cane she didn’t require but used as a balancer as she climbed the outside steps to her apartment.

  “Why do you give Mamá such a hard time? You told me yourself that she was an excellent cook,” Willie said. She sat in the overstuffed couch, wiggling around to hear the squeak of her jean-clad ass on the plastic covered monstrosity. Her feet barely reached the floor while Abuela comfortably slide her feet onto the matching ottoman.

  “She expects it. So I try not to disappoint her,” Abuela said. Tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair she looked at Willie with eyes that stared out of a face that belied the at least ninety years that the old woman claimed to be. Abuela could pass for sixty. Willie had seen her do it at the grocery store as she
flirted with the widowers that frequented the small community store.

  Abuela steepled her fingers in front of her face. “You’ve always required more work than even Miguel and he got kicked out of—ah well, we won’t speak of that.” Here her abuela stopped to cross herself. Miguel’s great sin was rarely spoken of now. Willie was worse than that. Willie had an “oh shit” moment.

  “In two days I will tell you what I’ve decided about you and these two men that you want to make a relationship and children with. You young people act as if you invented everything under the sun. While this is not a common-type relationship, I’ve seen enough in my time to know how it should be handled. You aren’t doing such a good job by yourself,” Abuela said.

  “I was doing all right until I had to come here to wait for you to decide to tell me about your dream. Now you tell me that I’ll find out on Saturday. Why couldn’t I have stayed in West Virginia?” Willie said.

  “Because I wanted you here. At my age, I get what I want,” Abuela said. She patted Willie’s cheek. “Tell me more about these special men.”

  Willie knew better than to complain, so she told her abuela about her guys.

  Chapter Eleven:

  Trying to Find the Words

  Linc stomped the snow off his snow boots. Cyn was still working on some negotiation or deal and was driving back and forth between home and DC. During a quick breakfast Jeff had thrown together, she’d complained that this was one of the toughest she had ever undertaken. She left the house soon after the meal before the snow started that threatened to bury them under another foot or two of heavy powder. Unions sent her all over the country to hot spots that required her mixture of knowledge and absolute bitchiness. Her contention was that the bitchiness worked much better than the knowledge. To let her tell it this morning, neither was working on this deal.

  Jeff was in the den watching another old movie, this time a video. He looked up at his partner and surprised them both by opening his arms out for Linc to fall into. And, again surprising them both, Linc accepted the offer of comfort. They lay tightly entwined as Bette Davis in The Little Foxes sat in calculating silence while her husband fell out in a death gasp.