I’d been carrying around Mamaw’s ring for a while, letting it burn a hole in my pocket while I tried to get the courage to ask her to marry me. One day we’d been up in the barn, and I couldn’t wait anymore. I got down on one knee and proposed. After what seemed like an hour, she said yes. We took a little celebratory roll in the hay then promptly got into an argument about the particulars.
“I’m not getting married at the Baptist church,” she’d said.
“Well, I’m not getting married at your church.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not.” At that point it occurred to me I’d just screwed up royally. I had a gorgeous naked woman on a quilt in a hayloft. She’d agreed to marry me, and I was arguing about the how.
“Well, I’m certainly not agreeing to obey you, so I’m not getting married by a Baptist!” She started jerking clothes on, and that wasn’t the direction I wanted things to go.
“Romy.”
“Don’t you ‘Romy’ me!”
She ran off, but that afternoon I found her earring, which gave me the perfect excuse to come see her and to make an alternate suggestion: the justice of the peace.
Now I stared past the gold hoop. It looked an awful lot like the same earring. But even Cinderella didn’t lose the same shoe twice, so I put her earring in the ashtray and got to work.
Maybe this time I’d return the earring by mail.
From Rosemary Satterfield’s History of the Satterfield-McElroy Feud
While Shaymus was locked away, his first wife, Janie, moved in with his third wife, Sarah. I’d like to think they actually got along pretty well: Janie got to be with her son again, and Sarah got an extra pair of hands. Thanks to a well-timed conjugal visit, Sarah managed to have a child before Shaymus was shipped off to another prison, but she had a girl, so Luke, Janie’s only remaining son, was set to take over the Magilroy place.
Benjamin Junior’s son Myron once told me that he’d heard that Luke Magilroy and Sallie Satterfield had a little romance. He said his daddy sent her off to finishing school in New England the minute he found out. She ended up marrying a man not quite as rich as Rockefeller, but she never forgave her brother.
In 1886, Benjamin Junior married Rose Brown. Luke Magilroy married her twin sister, Virginia. For two decades peace reigned between the two families. Twice they came close to uniting the farms, but then Benjamin Junior’s daughter, Wisteria, did something stupid: She fell in love with—and I’m not making this name up—Christopher Columbus MacElroy.1
Romy
I was still sitting upstairs in a daze, feeling sorry for myself, when I heard the dogs. At first I thought it was Goat Cheese’s old mutts. They liked to wander over from time to time.
No. Those dogs are snarling.
I scrambled down the stairs, slipping once and bouncing into the wall, hard. Daddy sat back in his chair snoring as I ran for the back door and the boots. How he could sleep through it all, I didn’t know.
As I ran across the side yard from the house to the pen, I could hear Maggie lowing. I hit a trot, my boots rubbing up and down my heels. When I reached the fence out of breath, two pit bulls circled her. She had her head lowered, shaking it at them to warn them off.
I froze. I couldn’t get in there with those snarling beasts. Maggie had red streaks down one flank where they’d jumped at her. She lolled wild eyes at me as she bellowed for help.
As she turned to kick at the interlopers, I saw either her uterus had prolapsed more or the dogs had somehow jumped high enough to bite at it. She was trying to have her calf and the dogs could smell both her blood and her fear.
I looked around me frantically for a weapon, but all I saw was an old ax handle leaning against the adjoining shed. I grabbed it and climbed over the gate rather than taking the time to undo the chain. One dog, a brindled one, lunged for Maggie’s backside, but she rallied with a solid kick that sent him whimpering. The second dog, a yellow one, barked Maggie May into a corner. I approached the dogs, forcing myself to stay calm and stare them down. “No! No! Now, git!”
They paused, and the yellow one took a step backward. Just when I thought I’d convinced him I was alpha, he lunged.
He clamped down on my left arm. Pain burned through me as the dog tried to pull me down to the ground. I whopped him on the nose.
No response.
Even though my heart raced, icy adrenaline ran through my veins. At first, I’d jerked out of instinct, but I knew the dog would tear my arm apart if I tried to pull it back. Those few seconds seemed like an eternity as the yellow dog jumped at Maggie. Fury snapped behind my eyes. We weren’t going to have to bottle-feed another calf because some McElroy dog took her mother.
I raised the ax handle to hit the dog on my arm even as Maggie kicked him. In the split second the dog let go, I drew back my arm and held out the ax handle instead.
The dog chomped down on the handle, and I looked for the yellow one. The world swayed around me, then everything went eerily still.
Both dogs froze, their ears pricking up. A rifle shot rang out, and they ran through a low spot in the fence and back to the McElroy side.
That’s when I heard Daddy.
“Rosemary, are you all right?”
His voice was hoarse, muffled, and desperate even. I propped the post beside the gate with shaking fingers and leaned on my good arm to clamber over the gate. As I trotted in the direction of his voice, a lesser pain on my fingers registered and I looked down to where I’d broken three nails. One of them bled from being broken so far into the quick. “Daddy?”
“I’m over here.”
He’d been in such a hurry his wheelchair had gone off the makeshift ramp over the front porch steps and capsized. He’d pulled himself to sitting position and dragged himself to the rifle that’d no doubt flown from his lap. My heart caught in my throat at the thought of all that could’ve gone wrong.
“Daddy, did you hurt yourself? Are you okay?”
“Baby, you’re bleeding.”
Dazed by the dizzying ache in my arm, I didn’t answer him for a moment. “Dog bit me. But are you okay?”
“Dammit, Curtis’s damned pit bulls got loose again, didn’t they?” he panted from where he was still trying to right himself.
He choked back a sob of sorts. For the sake of his pride, I had no choice but to ignore it. “Let me help you back into the chair, and we’ll get you into the house. You may want to call the vet, too. Looks like Maggie’s worse.”
“What about getting you to the doctor?” He grunted as I lifted him back into his chair.
“Don’t you need to check on Maggie first?”
Hank’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a sight more important than a cow. Let’s call Julian—”
“No!” I fumbled to get my cell phone out of my pocket and awkwardly dialed Richard. He might be mad at me, and rightfully so, but he’d still take me to the hospital, right?
The procession of rings followed by his chipper voice-mail message suggested otherwise.
“I’ll drive myself,” I said.
Daddy grabbed my good arm. “Hell, you can hardly dial a cell phone. I’m calling Julian, and that’s that.”
Shit. That’s just what I need. Why couldn’t we have neighbors other than the McElroys or old man Smith, who was ninety-seven if he was a day?
Five minutes later I’d managed to help him roll into the house using my good arm. He’d called Julian and was still muttering under his breath, “Damned cow is going to cost me a fortune.” But he was looking at me with worry in his eyes.
“It’s just a dog bite, Daddy,” I said. He knew I’d suffered something similar the summer I worked for Dr. Winterbourne. That was back when I thought I wanted to be a veterinarian. The next school year, a fall chemistry class changed my mind.
“Well, you know what, Rosemary? You’re all that I’ve got. And to think what those mean-ass dogs might have done—”
“They didn’t, though. I’ll get patched up. I’ve done worse—remem
ber that time I fell out of the tree over there?”
“Yeah, I remember. You shaved ten years off my life.”
Julian opened the door, concern hooding his eyes. He looked to Hank, and my father nodded. Something passed between the two men before my father looked away. I would’ve expected hatred or at least distrust. Instead, Daddy’s nod had held more trust and approval than his halfhearted reply to Richard that he could have my hand. The two of them were in on something, and I was going to figure it out if it killed me.
Julian
I broke at least thirty laws getting Romy to the doctor’s office in Ellery. Now that she wasn’t in the thick of things, her eyes were glazing over from pain.
“When did you and Daddy get so chummy?”
Of all the things I expected her to ask, that was not one of them. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. You helped him when he broke his leg so now you’re his go-to guy for Satterfield family emergencies? Something’s up.”
“Nothing’s up,” I said as I rolled through a stop sign that brought me into the town limits.
“Julian, the two of you hated each other back when we were dating.”
“Well, I’m older and wiser.”
I yanked the truck into park and got out before she could ask me any more questions. Truth be told, helping Hank out the day he broke his leg actually made us even, but I wasn’t about to tell Romy about the time Hank had helped me.
I placed a hand around her waist to walk her into the doctor’s office. As we walked, she stumbled out of her right boot. What the hell was she doing wearing Hank’s boots?
“I think you need some smaller boots there, Romy.”
“Kiss my ass, Julian.”
Better to have her cuss me than question me.
The receptionist took one look at Romy’s gray face and decided to send her on back to the Ellery Clinic’s tiny “emergency room.” We didn’t have to wait long for Doc Malcolm, though he walked much slower than I remembered. Despite his shock of white hair and stooped posture, I felt like a kid again. All I needed was one of the lime suckers he kept in his pocket.
He turned to Romy first. “Well, well, Stinky, what have you got yourself into this time? Still falling out of trees?”
Romy blushed at the older doctor, a man who’d nursed both of us through colds, the chicken pox, strep throat, stitches, and just about every other ailment under the sun. “Dog bite.”
Doc Malcolm tsked, then acknowledged me with a slap on the shoulder. “I always told her they’d have to chase off the boys with a stick when she got older. I must’ve forgotten to warn her about the dogs, eh, Julian?”
I smiled, swallowing hard. I appreciated his attempts to lighten the mood Patch Adams–style, but I wanted Romy to be out of pain as soon as possible. Still, he took his time washing his hands and gathering supplies. When he unwrapped the towel from her arm, he whistled. At the sight of the jagged gashes, some spot in my chest ached sharp and fierce because I couldn’t take Romy’s pain for her. Instead, I’d once again caused her pain—just indirectly. She gasped at his touch, and I instinctively moved to her good side and took her hand. She crushed my fingers but wouldn’t look my way.
“Okay, Stinky. As bad as it looks, I’m more concerned about what’s under the skin. We’ve got to clean this and make sure you don’t have too much damage,” Doc Malcolm said as he shuffled back to the counter. He looked at me. “What do we know about this dog, eh? Had its shots, I hope?”
“One of my father’s dogs,” I managed over the lump in my throat. “They’ve had all their shots.” That was no thanks to Curtis. I’d been the one to load them up and take them for their shots.
“Well, that’s good. We don’t want to do the rabies treatment. I think we’ll get a tetanus shot ready, though,” Doc Malcolm continued as he put on his gloves then started washing the wound and feeling his way around her arm. Romy flinched the moment his fingers pressed against her forearm. By the time he felt his way to one of the gashes, she’d turned white and looked ready to pass out.
“Now, Stinky, you’re making it worse when you jump like that each time I touch you. You look up at that McElroy boy instead. He isn’t too bad to look at, now, is he?”
Romy
No, Julian wasn’t bad to look at, especially not when his blue eyes harbored that kind of pain and guilt. I didn’t mean to actually look up at him, but I had always been one to follow doctor’s orders. To make matters worse, Julian’s other hand reached toward my cheek with trembling fingers, but he drew it back as though singed.
Dr. Malcolm’s merciless fingers felt around the wounds. He flushed the wound with something that stung enough to bring tears to my eyes. Julian thumbed the tears away, and my traitorous body itched to lean into him, quivering with the effort it took to keep that arm still while the doctor poked and prodded. Julian stepped closer, and I leaned into him in spite of myself. I needed someone to lean into.
“All right. I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” Dr. Malcolm said. “The good news is that I don’t think you’ve got permanent damage. The bad news is that I’m afraid to suture you up for fear of infection. Now, you’d be less likely to have scars if I do the sutures, but there’s always the chance an infection would set in.”
“What would you do?” I asked.
“I’d clean it up and hope for the best,” the doctor said.
I swallowed and nodded for him to continue, then leaned back into Julian, trying not to think of how he smelled faintly of aftershave but mainly of cars and freshly cut hay.
“There we go,” Dr. Malcolm said. “All bandaged up. Now for that shot, and I’m calling in some antibiotics, too—just in case.”
Julian’s hand squeezed mine while I got the shot, lingering for just a second before letting go. Dr. Malcolm turned on him, looking over the rims of his glasses, his bushy eyebrows arched. “Now about those dogs—”
Julian’s lips made a thin line. “I’ll handle it.”
My heart skipped double. We might not still be together, but Julian had that steely-eyed look I’d seen before, the one that said, “You’d best not mess with my girl.”
Dr. Malcolm caught that vibe because he turned to me. “And you, young lady, you are to rest and to take care of this wound per the instructions on this sheet—and they include elevation. Come see me in about three days to make sure it isn’t infected. Take it easy, Stinky. That’s an order.”
I nodded and slid from the table, almost coming out of my boots again. I tamped down the irrational urge to kick them against the wall. Damned boots.
Julian put his arm around my waist to guide me out. For a minute I fell back into that old habit, enjoying the feel of his protective arm. Then I came to my senses and shrugged free: The last thing I needed was for Richard to drive by and get the wrong idea.
Julian started the truck. I wanted to ask him what he was going to do with the dogs, but I was afraid I wouldn’t like the answer. He eased the truck into the street, but his knuckles were white.
“You know,” I said softly, “the dogs didn’t ask to be made mean.”
He drove the next two blocks in silence but killed the motor once he’d parked behind the pharmacy, then trained his baby blues on me. “I know that.”
“Maybe—maybe they could be rehabilitated. You know, maybe someone could teach them how to act differently so they wouldn’t be so dangerous.”
“Can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” Julian said with a humorless smile. “They’ll be rotten until the day they die.”
And we weren’t talking about dogs anymore. Before I could say anything he got out of the truck and went around to my side to help me out.
“Thanks for taking me to the doctor.”
“Least I could do,” he said with a heavy sigh as he opened the pharmacy door for me.
I handed Mr. Giles my prescription and stepped back out of everyone’s hearing range. “I don’t suppose I could ask another favor of y
ou, huh?”
“Shoot.”
“I, uh, kinda need to get an annulment instead of a divorce. Richard tore up the papers.”
Miss Georgette looked up from the Metamucil at the end of aisle five and frowned at Julian when he swore under his breath. “So we’re still married. And he knows.”
“Yes and yes.”
“Just tell me what you want me to do, Romy.”
“At this point? I don’t know yet.”
“Well, tell me when you figure it out.” He sat down at the little desk that tested blood pressure but popped back up and guided me to the seat.
He looked ahead with a disgusted resignation I’d seen once before. When we were both freshmen, the football coach pulled me out of class one day. Apparently, he’d been informed I was the best English student in the school. So who better to help one of his star football players stay eligible? In his defense, he was new in town and didn’t know about the Satterfields and the McElroys. He couldn’t have known that Julian and I had drifted apart when my mom got sick.
I walked to the library, hall pass clutched in one hand. What would he say?
There he sat at one of the old wooden tables, leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. No longer a boy, he didn’t want to be there any more than I did. I pulled out the chair beside him and waited. Finally, he turned to look at me, and his eyes grew wide. Then he did something very curious: He blushed.
“You’re going to be my tutor?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Coach Davis said we’d take today as a trial period. If it works out, we’ll study together in the afternoons.” And the boosters were going to pay me for my trouble, but something told me Julian didn’t need to know that.
Julian looked away. “You’re not going to be able to help me any more than the other two.”
My Satterfield stubbornness reared its ugly head. Wanna bet? “What makes you say that?”
“I can’t read. No way I’m going to pass English if I can’t read.”
He can’t read? The idea was so foreign to me that I couldn’t find anything to say.
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