by Sable Hunter
“Son of Deke Rogers?”
“Yes.”
“This is Marcelle Lambert. Do you know my name?”
A black cloud of rage pummeled his chest. “Fuck you. Why the hell are you calling me?”
“I’m prepared to make you a proposition.”
“What kind of proposition?”
“I’d rather do this in person, if you don’t mind.”
“Why should I give you the time of day?” Lance’s heart was beating so fast, he thought he might have a heart attack.
“I think you can answer that question for yourself. When would be an opportune time for you? My schedule is flexible.”
Lance wanted to tell the woman to fuck off so badly he could taste it. The only thing that stopped him was pure curiosity. He had no idea what the old lady had to say to him, but he could take the opportunity to say a few choice words himself. About her, her husband, and her granddaughter.
“Saturday is my day off.”
“Good, I’ll see you Saturday. I assume you know where to find me.”
“Yea, I know where you live.” He hung up the phone and threw it down like it was burning his fingers. “Bitch.”
* * *
The waiting was the hardest part.
Two days went by without a seizure. The looming doctor’s appointment was on Monday, but Tricia didn’t want to wait until then for information. In the years that had passed since she’d experienced an attack, a lot had changed in the medical community. There were new drugs, new treatments, and more readily available data. Like most things, reading about it online only made her imagination more active.
The worst part was the fear. Oh, she wasn’t afraid of the seizure itself. They took a toll on the body, but there was no actual pain. What she dreaded was having one in front of somebody. In the past, her seizures had been short lived. Not so with the one she’d experienced on Wednesday morning. Tricia wondered if she’d hit her head when she fell and knocked herself out. That might explain why she’d been unconscious for so long.
One of her worst memories was of Melanie Hargis’s face in sixth grade after Melanie had watched her have a ‘fit’ as she’d called it. Melanie had been disgusted and Tricia had been horrified. At school, Melanie had reenacted the fit, showing everyone how Tricia’s body had shaken and how her eyes had rolled back in her head. She’d laughed and told everyone that Tricia had peed her pants. This was true, it sometimes happened if she had a full bladder. Being grown didn’t really lessen her apprehension of losing control in front of someone. Now, that she’d had time to consider everything, Tricia was grateful Lance was out of the picture. She didn’t know how she would’ve told him all of this.
Now, she wouldn’t have to.
There were a few people she would have to eventually tell. Avery, for sure, and Kristen. For now, she was trying to do everything humanly possible to keep herself calm. She knew stress was a huge trigger, as was her monthly period. Tricia glanced at the calendar. “Hmmm, my period’s late.”
Ting!
Tricia jumped, glancing up she saw Nolan Starr. “Oh, Nolan, you scared me!”
He pointed back at the bell. “Am I supposed to knock?”
“No, of course not,” Tricia laughed, “I was just deep in thought. What can I do for you?”
“I forgot our anniversary,” he confessed sheepishly.
Tricia studied the big lumberman’s handsome face. “Well, when you have two important dates like anniversaries and birthdays close together, it’s easy to do.” She didn’t really believe that assertion to be true, but it sounded good.
He shrugged, shaking his head. “I’ve been having a hard time at the mill. Times are pretty rough in the business. I should spend more time thinking about home and my wife, but I feel guilty when I’m not working. I need to support my family.”
“I understand. We all have our problems, Nolan. What would you like to get for Jaya?”
He glanced around. “I need something that looks like it costs a lot of money, but didn’t.”
His frankness made Tricia laugh. “Gotcha.” Her heart went out to the couple. Lance had said her heart was too soft, and maybe it was. “I think I have just the thing. Wait here.”
Tricia ran back to her storage room and stood on a stool, pulling down a box from the very top shelf. “I’ve been saving this for the perfect occasion,” she called, loud enough for Nolan to hear.
Setting the bulky box down on a nearby table, she opened it and dug down through the tissue paper. “Ah, here you are.” With great care, she pulled out a fragile, Dresden ballerina. “Doesn’t Jaya love the ballet? Or am I remembering wrong?” She started toward the front.
“No, you’re right. Her mother is a famous dancer.”
“Oh, really? Wow! I think she’ll like this and we can pair it up with some miniature pink roses.”
Nolan’s eyes widened. “Sounds beautiful, but I doubt I can afford it.”
Tricia grinned. “Yes, you can, the ballerina is discontinued. All you’ll need to pay for is the roses.” She named a price that she knew Nolan could afford.
“Really?” The surprised and happy relief on his face pleased Tricia no end.
“Absolutely. Shall I wrap it up?”
“Oh, please. I’ll wait on it, if that’s okay.”
“Good. My delivery service is on the fritz.” She didn’t go into any details, and Nolan was too happy to ask.
By the time she finished work for the day, she sat on the couch to eat her supper and for the life of her she felt like there was something she needed to remember…something important. What was it?
“Oh well, must not have been important.”
Taking off her shoes, she propped her feet on the coffee table and turned on the television. Her plan was to watch the new episode of The Good Witch while she ate. She needed some good magic in her life. As she crunched down on popcorn chicken, Tricia fantasized about concocting a spell to force Lance to love her. She could mix up a bubbling caldron of mysterious ingredients, then put a little bit of it into a batch of cookies. To get the cookies into Lance’s hands, she could send him an anonymous balloon bouquet with the cookies in the basket. He’d eat the cookies, then show up at her door with a ring in hand. This fairytale fancy depressed Tricia more than entertained her. What good was love or marriage if it had to be forced?
After she finished her meal, Tricia took up the herculean task of watering plants. This chore took a good hour and by the time she was through, she was thirsty herself. Padding to the kitchen in just a pair of socks, she filled a glass of water and stood at the sink to drink it.
Suddenly, she became aware of a strobe light flickering through the curtain. Jerking back the cotton material, she could see a cop car was parked down the street in front of the bank. “A robbery?” Standing on tiptoe, she tried to peer out so see what was going on. The throbbing light of the cop car hurt her eyes, but her curiosity was high. Blinking, she ignored the light and watched to see if she could detect any movement. As she contemplated the scene, the siren of an ambulance broke the silence and an EMT vehicle pulled up with its own pair of flashing lights.
All of a sudden, her whole body began to tingle; pin pricks of uncomfortable awareness rose all over her palms and the soles of her feet. “Oh, no. Not again.” Hugging herself tightly, she sank to the floor, trying in vain to keep her body from jerking. To her dismay, her vision began to fade and her muscles tensed and began to cramp painfully. Tricia tried to scream, but no noise came from her mouth.
All she could do was endure.
* * *
When Lance arrived at North-Star, his stomach turned at the sight of audaciously displayed wealth. Every inch of the property screamed money, from the manicured lawn to the Bentley waiting in the circle drive. “The rich get richer and the poor get the shaft,” he muttered as he parked his well-worn truck next to the fancy car. He’d debated making the trip, Lance couldn’t imagine wanting to hear anything the old bat had to say. He
recalled Tricia telling him that she planned on visiting her grandmother. He’d had no idea she was heading to North-Star. Lance tried to imagine Tricia in these surrounding…and he couldn’t. She just didn’t fit. Shaking his head, he dispelled the momentary doubt. She was Marcelle Lambert’s granddaughter and the apple probably didn’t fall far from the tree.
Climbing the steps of the grand entrance, Lance experienced a flashback to the night his father lost Shenandoah. The game had taken place here, out in the bunkhouse. Glancing in the direction where he remembered the bunkhouse was located, he noticed the structure was no longer standing. In its place sat a metal barn.
The memories came flooding back.
When his father didn’t come home at the expected time, his worried mother had sent him to check out his dad’s old haunts. The bartender at the local watering hole clued Lance into the card game going on at the Lambert ranch. At eleven, Lance had to sit on a pillow to drive the old farm truck. He’d known about the Lamberts, old man Slade had married a younger woman, a woman not much older than his own parents. He also knew that Miz Marcelle Lambert had cornered his dad in the feed store. More than one person witnessed the confrontation. Spencer Purcell told him about it and Spencer’s aunt informed Lance’s mother. The news hadn’t seemed to bother her, she’d trusted her husband. But the public way Deke rejected her advances was the catalyst to the whole sordid mess. He didn’t know all the details of what happened after, but he knew the woman had engineered his father’s downfall.
When Lance arrived at North-Star that fateful night, it was to find his father obviously drunk. He later swore that he hadn’t consumed more than two beers and Lance believed him. Knowing Marcelle Lambert, she’d drugged him. No matter the cause, the result had been the same. Deke Lambert had spiraled down, making one bad bet after another, suffering one loss after another. Marcelle had been there to egg him on – teasing him, humiliating him, - until he’d bet more than he could pay. And then Marcelle had shamed him as a coward until he’d ended up sacrificing the one thing he couldn’t afford to lose.
Shenandoah.
He could still remember his mother begging on her knees, Marcelle laughing in her face.
Lance would never forget and he would never forgive.
Pressing the doorbell, he listened to the echoing peals. He waited and waited, ringing the doorbell again. He wondered if this was part of the strategy, to make him feel small by leaving him standing at the door like some unwelcome salesman.
At last, he heard slow steps approaching the door and it was opened, not by a servant, but by Marcelle Lambert herself.
“Welcome, Mr. Rogers.”
“I bet that name sticks in your craw, doesn’t it?”
“There’s no room in my craw, it’s full of cancer.”
Lance Roger’s sarcastic remark died in his throat. Instead, he jammed his hands in his pocket and stared at the woman who’d ruined his life. “So, you’re seeking forgiveness? I’m all out of rosary beads.”
She stepped back to allow him entrance to the mansion. “Let’s meet in my office. I have liquor.”
“I don’t need social niceties. I want an explanation and then I want to never see you again.”
She led him slowly to the back of the house, past paintings by the Masters, over Persian rugs so plush he had to wade through the pile. “Are you sure that’s all you want, an explanation?” she asked in a well-modulated tone.
“No, I want my ranch back, but I figure that’s probably not the reason you called me here. Do you expect me to forgive you so you can die in peace? If so, the answer is no, I hope you bust hell wide open.”
Marcelle opened a heavy oak door and stepped inside, holding it open for him to enter. “I’m not seeking forgiveness from you. Scotch or Whiskey?”
“I don’t drink with the scum of the earth.”
“Suit yourself.”
He refused to sit. Instead, Lance stood and felt his skin crawl as he tried to process the fact that he was in the same room with the woman who’d taken everything from his family. The loss was not only Shenandoah, it had been the end of his father also.
“Get on with it, Marcelle, or I’m leaving.”
She poured two fingers of amber liquid into a crystal shot glass. “Let me ask you a question.”
“Can I stop you?”
Closing her eyes, she took a long sip, then sat down heavily behind a massive desk. “Why did you date my granddaughter once, then walk away?”
Lance started not to answer, then he thought – what the hell. “I found a photo of the two of you.”
“And if you’d never found the photo?”
He stared at the floor. “But I did find it.”
Opening a drawer, she drew out a manila folder. With twisted arthritic fingers, she held up a set of folded legal papers. “This is the deed to Shenandoah and on top of it is a contract, an offering.”
Lance tensed, swallowing hard. “What’s your game, old lady? What do you want in exchange for Shenandoah? My soul?”
She gave him a small smile, shaking her head. “No, I want you to marry my granddaughter.”
Lance froze, every muscle stiffening. He didn’t say a word, he was too shell-shocked.
Seeing he wasn’t responding, Marcelle held the contract out to him, tempting him to take it. “Once you marry, Tricia. I’ll put your name on this deed and turn the ranch over to you. Lock, stock, and barrel.”
Lance turned his back on her and took two steps toward the door. “No, thanks. I can’t be bought.”
“Wait.”
He stopped and looked back.
“Think about what you’re doing, Lance. This is a bargain. Marriage to Tricia would be a small price to pay. You get what you’ve wanted all along and as a bonus, a woman who loves you becomes your wife.”
Lance made a face and scoffed. “I’d rather never set foot on Shenandoah again than give my name to a woman who shares your blood. Why are you trying to buy her a husband? What’s wrong with her?” he asked, then laughed. “Oh, that’s right, I just answered my own question. She’s your granddaughter, that’s what’s wrong with her.”
“I would think about this if I were you, Mr. Rogers. This is a good deal. I’m trying to right two wrongs with this gesture. Maybe you can right one wrong yourself.”
“I won’t make a deal with the devil.” He waved his hand in dismissal and stalked to the door. “Shove your offer where the sun don’t shine, Mrs. Lambert. I’ll see myself out.”
* * *
“Why is your face bruised this time?” Avery asked in alarm as she made a place for Tricia on the couch.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Tricia grimaced and reached for the baby. “Let me hold your little bundle of joy. How do you feel?” Avery relinquished the baby with a smile and Tricia clasped the warm little body to her chest. “Oh, this is nice. I could get used to one of these.” She buried her face in the sleeping child’s neck. “He smells so good!”
“Mentally, I feel great.” Avery shrugged her shoulders. “Physically, I’ve been better.”
“Well, you gave birth. You’ll be on your feet in no time.”
The noise of a banging door alerted the girls that they weren’t alone.
“Hey, how’s my little family? Do you need anything?” Isaac came into the room. “Oh, hi, Tricia! It’s good to see you.”
Tricia pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. Isaac’s hair was standing up in several places and the handsome guy had bags under his eyes. “Good to see you too, Isaac. How’s it going?”
Isaac smiled. “I’m fine.” He reached up to soothe his hair, after seeing his wife give him hand signals to do so. “I guess I’m a little harried. David wakes up pretty frequently at night.”
“I can imagine.” She rubbed the baby’s back and was rewarded by a huge burp. “Oh, my goodness!”
“I came up here to check on you two, but since Tricia is here, I’ll go back to work.” He turned to go. “Tricia, I just came in f
rom taking the garbage out. Why didn’t I see your van? Is something wrong with it?”
“I walked to Hardbodies. The weather is nice and I needed the exercise.”
He looked at her strangely. “My Spidey senses are telling me that it’s more than that.”
Jon had delivered her van the day before, taking back the loaner. She didn’t want to outright lie to Isaac, so she just evaded answering. “My van’s been in the shop. I had a fender-bender. Remember? Is Cady’s psychic ability catching?”
“Oh, I have powers of my own.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Just ask Avery.”
“No. I won’t.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Reading her books is as close as I need to be to your…extracurricular activities. Us spinster ladies can’t handle too much excitement. We don’t have an outlet for all our sexual energy.”
Isaac looked at her strangely. “I am not touching that comment, but if you are having problems of some kind, please let us know. You’re our friend.”
After he was gone, she turned to glance at Avery. “What?” she asked, seeing the worried look on her friend’s face.
“Spill it. I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re hiding something. What’s going on with Lance?”
“Nothing.” Tricia placed the sleeping baby on her lap and continued to stroke his back. “Lance and I found out we weren’t compatible.”
“Bullshit.” Avery exclaimed so loudly that the baby started crying. “Dang it, I’m sorry, David.” She picked him up to soothe him. “I’ve seen the chemistry between the two of you and sexual chemistry is sorta my forte.”
“All right.” Tricia held up her hands. “I don’t know what happened. We spent one night together and when I woke up, he was gone. I haven’t talked to him since. He told Skye that things didn’t work out between us and when I ran into him at the hospital, he wouldn’t speak to me.”
“What the f…fig?” she asked, cutting her eyes at her baby. “Language,” she whispered. “What’s wrong with the man?”
“I don’t have a clue.” Tricia laid her head back on the couch, willing herself not to cry. “And that’s not all, I have a confession to make to you. I have a problem.”