I couldn’t return to the Langford farm now or risk being seen by the farmhand, so I spent my time buying some clothing, a new computer, new cell phone, personal articles and favorite foods for Auggie. The farmhands always went home by dark and returned at dawn. That would be my window of opportunity to spend time with her.
I waited past dark and called Mr. Langford to make sure the coast was clear. I pulled into the yard and behind the barn and between us, we ferried the purchases I’d made into the house.
Drawing the blinds and curtains, Auggie was free to move about the house. No one would think it unusual given that Mr. Langford could be very upset and not sleeping well.
We had a light dinner and Auggie already was missing Ford. He was at that stage when babies begin doing things like crawling, sitting up and some even began to experiment with walking or pulling themselves up. We discussed that it was the price of his safety and I promised to take pictures and send her whenever I could. Luckily, she had been in the process of weaning him from nursing, so he had already been getting used to formula. I had also purchased myself a new cell phone so we had private lines that no one knew about.
After dinner, Auggie and I went up to her bedroom. She turned on the water in the bathroom and began to undress. I followed her and did likewise. We climbed into the shower and stood there, wet naked skin against skin, holding tightly. I kissed her hard on the mouth and then in paths over her naked body. I carried her to the bed and made love to her. It was an almost eerie experience. We were, on one hand, making up for lost time when we’d both been angry with the other. Well, she more with me, but I felt justified. At the same time, we made love almost as if she had, indeed, been hurt, and we might be parted for a lifetime. We entered a world where only the two of us existed. There were no interruptions; no casual conversation and no child. There was only a need to reassure one another that what we were doing was the right thing; the thing that would keep us all safe. It was a simple, possessive lovemaking and after she fell asleep, I lay there a long time and watched her.
For the first several days, I had to pretend to be by Auggie’s bedside, so I was forced to essentially go into hiding. I couldn’t appear at the farm until late, after dark when the farmhands were gone. I spent this time driving around, thinking and taking in movies in distant towns. From time to time, I checked in with my office, although I avoided speaking directly to either Jessie or Deborah. Mr. Langford kept up with his assigned people and the story had Auggie hanging on, but we were hopeful. The fewer details, the better.
After two weeks, Auggie had turned the corner and was stable. She would be transferred to a rehabilitation center somewhere in the south where she would stay in seclusion. I would return to work and to look after Ford.
In the meantime, it seemed our plan was working, just as I’d hoped. Linc had seized the opportunity of my absence to spend more time with Jessie Klinger. She, feeling angry with me for having left her with so much to deal with and yet not spoken to her directly, responded to his advances. It seemed they had formed a sort of devil’s liaison and we heard via Mrs. Langford’s conversations with Mr. Langford that Linc was seldom about. This lessened our element of danger, as well.
Auggie and I spent our nights in one another’s arms. Sometimes we never even made the bed but used it as a sort of living/sleeping room. By necessity, we kept the lights off at night, even though the heavy drapes at the window were always closed. Auggie had learned to read my body; the cover of darkness heightens the remaining senses. Her fingers began on the cleft in my chin, a sort of starting spot that fit her index finger perfectly. She slid fingertips down my chest, kissing my face so that I could suck her breasts at the same time. When her hand eventually reached my dick, she’d pump me with excruciating slowness, each stroke coaxing me to swell larger and longer.
These were my favorite times, those private moments when she showed me her love. Often, she’d swing around, her head to my feet, so that I could stroke her pussy at the same time. We began a matching rhythm; a way of guiding the other to give what felt best by doing it to them first. A language of love, of flesh and warmth — drawn together by the ever-present fear of discovery. I learned a great deal about my wife, apart from her being a daughter or mother. I realized that what had begun as lust for the long-legged filly who walked into my office that day had become a deep source of pride as I began to realize the women she was. In some sense, this time together was treasured; if not even necessary.
I finally returned home. The story was now that Auggie was in seclusion, recovering and didn’t want any contact. The doctors thought it best she be left alone. I brought Ford to her dad’s on Sundays and mother and son were reunited, much to her extreme joy. Mr. Langford kept up his part of the updating of mothers and it looked as though we may have pulled things off.
I wasn’t surprised when Jessie Klinger tendered her resignation. In fact, it was with extreme relief. It seemed that, through Mr. Langford’s coaching, my mother had contacted Linc and expressed a desire to live back at the family home. She would look after him, she told him. Evidently, Linc could not picture himself surrounded by two aging, interfering and demanding ladies and scampered into Jessie’s arms as she boarded a flight back for the east coast. She had looks, money and best of all, he had stolen her from me, so he was happy. He signed the farm back over to Mother in return for a nice fat check, which I had backed for Mother. She had no desire to live there and stayed in her condo, but she did as I asked without question. She was far brighter than Father had ever given her credit for.
***
I was waiting for it to get dark so I could visit Auggie when I decided to stop by Joe’s. I received a good deal of back-slapping as the word had travelled that Auggie would recover and hopefully be home by Christmas. I had to refuse most of the rounds of drinks or risk being too drunk to drive.
I was sitting quietly in a booth, my back to the door when I felt an arm brush mine and a man slid into the opposite seat. I was surprised; it was Earl Kinsey. “Earl,” I acknowledged with a nod.
Earl had a very, very serious look on his face and I knew it was no accident that he was there that evening. I waited for him to begin.
“Worth, after we talked, I asked around a bit. I know about Linc and the whole mess. I’m sorry there was nothing I could do.”
“Earl, I appreciate you sticking your neck out, but I had to deal with it my own way.”
His face wrinkled with confusion. “You mean, you had something to do with it?”
I looked at him and something wasn’t right. “What do you mean. To do with what?”
“His death.”
My hand shot across the table as I grabbed his wrist. “Whose death, Earl?”
“Why your brother, Linc. God dammit, don’t tell me you don’t know?” He sat straight upward and began to squirm. “Jesus, Worth, I thought you’d heard.”
“Tell me,” I said between clenched teeth.
“Linc’s dead, Worth. Jesus, I’m sorry.”
“What happened,” I asked, barely able to breathe.
“He’d been hanging around at the track here in town. Went behind some backs again and they came looking for him. I heard he found a broad, some kind of doctor and took off with her to the coast. Paper went out on the street and their car was found at the bottom of a ravine, burned to a crisp.” He looked at my face and shook his head. “You mean to tell me you hadn’t heard?”
“No,” I said curtly, my head swimming with all that this meant. “Excuse me, Earl,” I threw a hundred on the table and slid out of the seat, heading for the door.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Earl called after me.
***
I burst into Mr. Langford’s house and grabbed Auggie by the arm. “Pack your things, sweetheart. We’re going home.”
Walter walked into the room and the two of them looked at me in confusion.
I went to her, circling her upper arms with my fingers. “I just got the word. Li
nc is dead.”
Auggie’s mouth dropped open, her green eyes wide with surprise. “Dead? How? Why? What does…?” She trailed off, trying to piece it all together as I had earlier.
Grinning at her, I helped her out. “Yes, dead. He and Jessie both. He screwed the syndicate and this time, they just got rid of him.”
She shook her head, eyes filling with tears. “Does this mean it’s over?”
I grinned bigger. “Yes, baby. C’mon, let’s go home. Our nightmare is over.”
Auggie’s face burst into joy before she remembered herself and it faded. “Oh, god, Worth. I didn’t want him to die,” she whispered. “And what do you mean, Jessie too?”
“Auggie, you had nothing to do with it,” I said, stroking my fingers down her cheek. “He practically committed suicide. I should have realized he was his own worst enemy. I know you didn’t want him killed, but it’s over now and nothing can bring him back, even if we wanted to. I’m sorry Jessie had to get mixed up in it, though. I didn’t like her much, but she didn’t deserve that.”
Walter grunted in agreement and I looked up and smiled at the man who’d been such an amazing help to us during this terrible time. He simply wiped his hand on his shirt, lit a pipe and nodded. He’d been around long enough to realize that people got what they deserved — it was life renewing itself.
“C’mon, sweetheart, let’s go home to our son!”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Auggie
It had been the spring after Ford’s twelfth birthday and I had been so excited. His gift had been a yearling we’d bought at the Keeneland sales for him. We’d given it to him that morning before he left for school. I knew he would look forward to coming home. Together, we would train and raise the young horse and Ford would know the joy I felt for Carlos.
Carlos had since been retired and grazed the fields between the barns and the Steeplechase complex that had eventually gotten built. From time to time, we had hitched him to a lightweight carriage and Ford and I would ride the estate behind him, stopping to chase butterflies, peek into birds’ nests or fish in the stream that ran through the back half of the estate.
So many things had changed since Linc’s death. Not only was the threat removed, but we managed to put it behind us almost as cleanly as when the first Linc died. No one spoke about it.
Mother had taken it hard. Linc had been her ticket back to society and prosperity. Although no one asked her to leave, she couldn’t afford the upkeep for the farm and we all agreed it would be better if she down-sized again for her own sake, and ours. Mother had thought otherwise.
She’d become a living scandal, chasing after one man and another. She was literally selling herself for the price of upkeep and while a few of the old-timers bit at the beginning, no one could bear to keep company with her for long.
I think Dad considered helping her out, for old times’ sake, but she saw it as an offer of renewing their marriage and he had other ideas. He asked Mrs. LaViere, Worth’s mother to marry him, and she accepted. She now lived with Dad at his farm and the condo sat empty. Mother had fastened her attention on getting that, but there was no way I wanted her influence in my life, and most especially Ford’s. We chose to more or less leave her to her own devices.
One winter night, Mother had chosen to go after a relic from the old days. His name was Albert Morgan and he was last in the line of Morgans of Woodford County. On the final leg of his journey, he refused to give up his driver’s license and there was no one to force him into it. He’d been driving and Mother was with him. They’d missed a sharp turn on one of the hilly back roads between Louisville and Lexington and slid off into a stream. They’d both evidently been knocked unconscious and went into hypothermia. By the time they were found the next morning, they were both dead.
We held a respectable funeral for Mother. We all pretended to grieve, but I don’t think there was anyone there who didn’t feel a sense of intense relief. It’s a very guilty feeling to not grieve for your own mother, but perhaps there was enough of her in me that it made it somehow tolerable. It seemed there was a purpose in being cold-hearted after all.
Worth had donated his family’s farm to an organization that maintained it as a sort of camp for kids with autism and other handicapping conditions. The children rode gentle, older horses and even spent the night, sitting around campfires and then sleeping in tents scattered about the grounds. Worth proclaimed it the Margaret LaViere Kids Camp and his mother had been wholly honored and visited it regularly with platters of homemade chocolate chip cookies and trays of flowers to plant along the many sidewalks. Dad helped her with these and the two of them had settled into a happy and stable way of life. I don’t think Dad grieved for Mother any longer than it took him to blink.
Worth’s businesses had thrived and while he no longer took on personal counseling patients, he did keep his hand in things. We had agreed that he would hire no more women as directors for his clinics. It wasn’t a sexist thing; it was my thing. He now had branches in over thirty cities and was gone for periods of time as he flew between them. He was no longer an entrepreneur. He had become a brand synonymous with overall good health and a balanced life. He had taken on speaking engagements and authored several books, all of which went toward making him a man of high visibility and recognition.
I had turned over my part in the Sunset Foundation to Brandon after Mrs. Jessup passed on. Sadly, even the best dialysis can only sustain you for a limited period of time. I do drive by there from time to time and the flowers and gardens, not to mention the picturesque stable with its carriages, have become a favorite for those out driving on a Sunday afternoon.
Worth wanted to send Ford to a military academy in Indiana. He insisted their credentials were impeccable and his chances of Ivy League school admission were far higher than the local school in Kentucky could provide. I knew what he said was right, but Ford was my life and I couldn’t imagine him being away from us. As it happened, my hand was forced.
Ford was in the seventh grade at Kendrick Middle. I received a call from John Beacham, the principal. “Mrs. LaViere, we have a bit of a situation here with your son.”
“What’s wrong?” I panicked instantly.
“He’s fine, but I think you’d better come down and check in with me at my office,” he requested. My voice was shaking when I said I’d be right down.
It was early spring and raining. I grabbed my rain slicker from the front hall closet and told Betsy where I was going.
I loved the reminiscent smell of schools. It was a combination of crayons and hot lunch, books and white paste glue. As I headed to the office, I scanned the drawings that had been taped to the wall along the hallway. It was amazing how so many children of the same age had such a variety of talent. This series was horses and while some of the drawings were not much above stick figures, a couple were far closer to portrait quality. I looked for one that might bear Ford’s name but didn’t see any. I was soon to learn why.
I was escorted to the principal’s office and took one of the small chairs opposite his desk. These were obviously most often occupied by errant students and not intended for comfort. Mr. Beacham shook my hand and retook his seat.
“What’s the problem, Mr. Beacham?” I began the conversation. “Where is Ford?”
“He’s in class, Mrs. LaViere,” he said calmly. I wondered how he could remain so calm with hundreds of screaming children surrounding him. “The problem is this.” He held up a drawing.
I looked at it momentarily and then burst out laughing. This took Beacham by surprise. “What’s wrong with that?” I asked.
He frowned, his glasses sliding down his bulbous nose and he was clearly at a loss of what to say. “I think it’s apparent that his drawing is rather indecent in nature,” he pointed out.
I looked again. “Mr. Beacham, we are a horse family. I own one of the premiere breeding facilities in the country, if not the world. Ford is exposed to the natural way of things on a daily basis.
You are obviously offended by the protruding, enlarged organ of the sire as he is about to approach a dam in heat. This is quite normal and the fact that you’re offended only means that you’ve not been around farms.”
“All that may be the case, Mrs. LaViere, but we here at Kendrick find this highly offensive and certainly don’t want our children exposed to such images.”
I laughed again. “Not only is it anatomically correct, actually pretty well drawn, but I venture to guess that at least a quarter of the children have seen this before and aren’t the least bit, shall we say, uptight, about it?”
He grew quite flushed and I could only imagine what his bedroom was like at night. “We can’t have it, Mrs. LaViere. I really don’t know how else to make this clear, but we cannot have it. Your son will not do this again.”
“Or, what?” I challenged him, my ire sparked by his controlling attitude.
“Are you planning to encourage him to continue this sort of… of pornography, Mrs. LaViere?”
“Pornography? Mr. Beacham, if this is what you look at in order to get it up to mount your wife, then I pity you. Grow up!”
I stood up and made it out into the hallway before I started laughing. I giggled all the way to the car and couldn’t wait to call Worth and tell him all about it.
He was in Chicago, arranging for a new clinic opening. “You said what?” He couldn’t believe his ears. “Auggie, honey, for you and Ford and even me, that’s normal life, but not everyone lives on a horse farm. You have to respect the man’s job. He can’t have children running around drawing pictures of copulating animals. That’s one step away from drawing human pornography and who is going to draw that line? Most of all, you have to respect the job he has to do. I’m sorry, honey, I know you find it funny, but this is what the establishment is all about and they’ll take it out on Ford.”
“Worth! My god, we’re talking about an anatomical drawing. When does he get to climb out from under that puritanical rock and deal with life as it is.”
Claiming Amelia Page 58