by Penny Reid
“What was it?”
“Just a poem I read.”
“You read poetry?”
I had to chuckle at her expression, like she was both surprised and pleased.
Standing, I stretched my arms and back, giving her a grin. “Don’t get your hopes up. It was just this last weekend. I looked through one of my momma’s books and found a page earmarked.”
“What was the poem?”
“Uh, something like ‘The More Loving One.’”
“I’ve tried to read poetry. But it never sat well with me. It’s like, I couldn’t process it without making myself upset.”
“When’s the last time you tried?”
“Years ago, in college.”
I walked around the bed, looking for my shoes. “You want me to bring the book over? We could try again.”
Slipping on her boots, her gaze grew thoughtful. “Yes, I do. I would like that very much. Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
“For what?”
Finished with my shoes, I turned to face her. “Listening.” For making me a priority.
“Anytime. I mean it, anytime.” She nodded subtly, her eyes dropping to my chest for a beat, then back to mine. “Stay.”
“I will.” I grinned, slowly making my way to her. “But I might shower first.”
“I might join you.” She tipped her head back as I approached.
“Oh, in that case,” I slipped my hands into place on her waist, tugging her to me and kissing her neck, “I’m definitely showering first.”
* * *
Shelly discovered she liked shower sex a lot. So after we got hot and steamy that night, she woke me up after her run the next morning to do it all over again.
I didn’t know if it was the feel of the water on her skin, or the feel of our bodies sliding along each other’s, slippery and wet. I honestly didn’t care. Her hooking a leg over my shoulder while she stood against the wall and I ate her out; looking up to see droplets holding on to the tips of her nipples, rolling down between her breasts, over her stomach and hips; the sounds she made both before and while she came, like she felt freer to make them when paired with the noise of running water—Shelly made getting clean while being dirty a whole lot of fun.
But she also gave me a hickey.
I hadn’t noticed until after we were out of the shower and I was drying off. My initial instinct was irritation—not that she’d given it to me, rather that it existed and I might have to explain it—but then I decided I liked it.
“I have to sleep at my house tonight.” I broke the news while she drank her tea and I gulped down a cup of coffee. “But I can come over for a little, right after work. The rest of this week is going to be crazy. We have Jethro’s bachelor party on Thursday, the rehearsal on Friday, and then the wedding on Saturday.”
“Okay.” She nodded, and then added, “I’ll miss you.”
That earned her a kiss and a smile. “I’ll miss you, too. You know, you’re welcome to come over anytime this week.”
The auto shop would be closed from Wednesday—tomorrow—and wouldn’t reopen until Monday. I wasn’t worried about her being by herself, but I did want her to know she was welcome at my house as well.
“I’m using the days off to work on the statues and sketch a new commission.” Her gaze moved over my face. “Have you talked to Cletus about us yet?”
I shook my head, sighing. “No. But I should.”
“Do you want me to be there? When you tell him?”
“Nah. That’s not necessary. Like I said, he’s tripping all over himself, getting in his own way with Jennifer. I’ll just have to sort him out.”
Yes, the time had come for me to challenge Cletus about his blindness. Besides, I had a suspicion that forcing Cletus to confront the error of his ways would be fun.
30
“I think . . . if it is true that
there are as many minds as there
are heads, then there are as many
kinds of love as there are hearts.”
― Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
* * *
*Beau*
The conversation about Cletus and Jennifer was not at all fun.
Long story short, I came home late Tuesday night and Cletus was sitting in Grandma Oliver’s old chair, wearing his smoking jacket. Now, my brother didn’t smoke, but whenever he wore his smoking jacket, he was irritating as hell. Naturally, I tried to avoid him.
He said something superior, as though he’d known all along what was going on with me and Shelly over the last few months—which he did not—and then acted like I had his blessing.
So I turned to him, prepared to give this horse’s ass a piece of my mind. I was going to tell him how he needed to mind his own business and set to making things right between himself and Jennifer Sylvester.
That’s when the curtain lifted and the shitshow started.
Jennifer Sylvester arrived all of a sudden, looking a fright. Billy got involved. Cletus lost his mind. It was a disaster.
However, that’s a different story for a different day and it would definitely read like a novel.
Thankfully, everything had calmed down to normal levels of crazy by the time Roscoe appeared late night Wednesday.
But then, Cletus called a family meeting on Thursday. To my surprise, Drew wasn’t there. He wasn’t related to us by blood, but he might as well have been. But before I could question his absence, Roscoe began complaining about the coffee. Loudly.
This earned him an array of irritated glares from all present. I loved my youngest brother, but he was a hipster of the worst sort, having too many opinions about shit that didn’t matter.
Like red wine. And coffee. And the French pronunciation of French words. Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t got nothing against the French. I like them a lot.
But the way Roscoe spoke sometimes, he acted like his poop didn’t smell even though he was just a poor boy from backwoods Tennessee, the youngest son of a con man and a librarian.
He’s used to getting what he wants all the time. Maybe we spoiled him too much.
Finally, Cletus lifted his voice over Roscoe’s complaints. “Praise for my excellent coffee notwithstanding, I have something serious to discuss with y’all.”
“Let’s hear it.” My sister took a big gulp from her mug, giving Roscoe a pointed stare, then licked her lips. “My, my, that is some mighty fine coffee.”
Our youngest brother rolled his eyes but said nothing.
Meanwhile, Cletus stood from the couch and strolled to the fireplace, like he was standing on a stage. “I have two things to tell y’all. The first is a . . . theoretical situation, and I need your advice. I’d like for all of us to vote.”
Duane, standing to my left, grumbled at Cletus’s request. “You want us to vote on a theoretical situation?”
“That’s right.”
My twin and I swapped a look while Billy set aside his newspaper and spoke up. “Okay. What is this theoretical situation?”
Cletus cleared his throat, and I got the sense he was a little nervous. “Let’s say, theoretically, that I’ve been stealing evidence from the sheriff’s office that implicates members of a certain motorcycle club and placing that evidence in strategic locations.”
Shit.
My pulse jumped and I stiffened, taking a step away from the wall. Maybe this was it. Maybe this is what Christine St. Claire was after.
“What does that mean?” I asked, working to keep my voice even. “Why would you do that?”
“Because a RICO charge requires at least two acts of racketeering activity,” Cletus responded as though he’d been asked about the mating habits of moths.
As an aside, I’d once asked him about the mating habits of moths. He knew all about it.
But getting back to the truth bomb he’d just detonated and the room full of gaping Winstons.
“Oh my God!” Ashley covered her mouth. “What did you do?”
“RICO? You’re taking them down on a RICO charge?” Billy spoke next, like he couldn’t believe his ears.
“In this theoretical scenario, the stolen evidence will be found in the possession of low-ranking motorcycle club members along with exceptionally well-organized lists detailing names, places, and events of their racketeering activities. All information contained on these lists is entirely accurate. Just, you know, now well organized.”
“You set them up.” My twin stepped next to me. “You organized their chaos, didn’t you? You helped them look better so every member will come under an organized crime charge.”
“That wipes them out. That completely annihilates the Wraiths. Anyone associated with them goes to prison, all on the same charge.” Roscoe chuckled, like he couldn’t help himself, but like he was still stunned.
Smirking, I allowed Cletus to see how impressed I was. “It’s not the Wraiths. It’s a theoretical motorcycle club. I’m so happy you don’t hate me.”
I had to hand it to Cletus, he certainly deserved his reputation in our family as an evil mastermind.
Cletus said nothing for about a minute or two, like he wanted to give us time to think through all the implications of his disclosure.
Then he clapped once, giving us all a start. “So, let’s take the vote.”
“What vote?” Duane looked to me, frowning.
“I want y’all to vote on whether I see this plan through. Everything is in place. All I need to do is make a phone call. It’s up to you.”
“It’s up to us?” Now I couldn’t believe my ears. “Since when? Since when is it up to us?”
“Since he fell in love and realized meddling comes with a price tag.” This statement came from Jethro. He was sitting on the couch, knitting something for my niece or nephew (aka his baby).
I stared at my oldest brother’s fingers, the care with which he worked on the hat or sock or whatever it was for his future child. Jethro hadn’t always been as he was now. At one point, he’d been a committed recruit in the Wraiths. Doing dumb shit, hurting people. Our mother had been devastated.
However, and as cliché as it might sound, he’d repented. Over the last five or so years, Jethro had made attempts to mend fences with all of us, make up for his past mistakes. Mostly, he’d succeeded.
Did I think his story of redemption meant that redemption was possible for all Wraith members? Did I think they’d eventually come to see the error of their ways and likewise repent?
Probably not.
Nor do I believe, I thought sadly, that Christine St. Claire wants redemption.
I was so preoccupied with these contemplations, I missed some of the conversation. The room came back into focus when I realized Billy had already voted. He wanted Cletus to bring them down.
“I also say yes.” My twin shared a commiserating glare with Billy. “I hope they all burn in hell.”
A ball of discomfort settled in my stomach, because Duane was voting without knowing all the facts. His birth mother would be affected. She’d definitely be one of the folks going to jail.
Maybe she doesn’t deserve Duane’s concern, but Duane deserves to know.
I sighed, because there was my answer. He needed to know, and I had to tell him.
Because of this, I stepped forward next to cast my vote. “I say no. I say let things happen naturally. If the law has evidence against them, let them use it. I don’t want any of us to be implicated.” I glanced at Duane, finding his glare on me, before finishing in a rush, “Let them make their own bed. It has nothing to do with us.”
And so it went, each of us casting our vote—Billy, Duane, and Cletus ready to lead the charge, Roscoe and Ashley with me—until Jethro was the only one left.
“Jethro?” Cletus prompted. “How do you vote?”
Our oldest brother didn’t look up from the work of his hands. “I abstain.”
“What? What do you mean you abstain?” Duane sounded pissed.
“I mean I abstain. I’m not voting.”
Duane pulled his hand through his hair, obviously exasperated with Jethro. “Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m the deciding vote.” Jethro’s voice rang through the room, sharp with anger. He looked up from his knitting and glared at my twin. When he spoke next, he did so through clenched teeth. “And I hate those motherfuckers more than you. More than any of you.” Jethro moved his attention to Billy. “But I’m not going to allow hate to make my decisions. If I voted, I would vote to destroy them all. So I can’t vote. Because I’m not that person anymore.”
No one said anything for what felt like several minutes, but I’m sure it was less than that.
Eventually, Billy looked away from Jethro’s glare and reclaimed his seat. “Fine. You have your answer, Cletus.”
“Stalemate means no one wins.” Cletus twisted his mouth to the side, his eyebrows pulled together like he was concentrating.
I needed to buy some time, so I suggested, “Just leave it where it is. Leave the evidence where it is, if you can. Then, if you need it, if you need the leverage, you have it.”
Jethro chuckled, shaking his head, “You know, Beau. You’re a lot more like Cletus than you let on.”
“Thank you.” I grinned. “In light of recent events, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“What was the second thing?” Ashley looked to Cletus.
Cletus turned a look of mild confusion to our sister and then suddenly shut his eyes. His face did a weird thing then, like he had stomach pains and was bracing himself against a cramp.
Ashley glanced at each of us in turn, prompting again, “Cletus?”
He opened his eyes but kept them fastened to the carpet. “Darrell Winston had a third family.”
My mouth fell open and a spike of adrenaline shot through my veins. We were Darrell’s first family. We all already knew that Darrell had married—illegally—Drew’s sister years ago, and she was his second family. But they’d had no children and she’d died tragically some fifteen or so years prior.
But a third family? Does Cletus know? About me and Duane?
I could barely hear, a sharp ringing in my ears deafened all sound.
I looked to Billy and found him looking at me. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but he gave his head a subtle shake, telling me to keep quiet.
Cletus cleared his throat, and then added, “Darrell had another son.”
My sister made a soft, involuntary sound of distress, but no one said a word.
A million thoughts ran like wildfire through my mind. Could it be that Christine and Darrell have another child?
And suddenly, I couldn’t wait to tell Claire that she was my sister. I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t wait to find out about her, what she was like, what we had in common.
Shelly had been right. She hadn’t said as much, she hadn’t spelled it out for me, but I’d been focusing on the wrong thing. I hadn’t lost a mother. Bethany was still my momma, and she always would be.
We hadn’t lost a thing, but we’d gained a sister. Duane and I had a second sister.
“His name was Eric and he died.” Cletus’s voice was rough, thick with uncharacteristic emotion.
My soaring excitement crashed down to earth as Cletus continued, “He died of cancer. I found out two years ago, after he’d passed. I thought y’all should know.”
Shit.
Shit shit shit shit shit.
I tried to swallow, but couldn’t. My eyes dropped to the carpet and I stared, absorbing the loss of a brother I would never know.
We all did.
Silence pressed down on us, filling the empty gaps in the room and separating us in our grief.
But then, unexpectedly, Duane walked past me. He walked straight to Cletus and wrapped him in a firm hug. Jethro was next, setting aside his work and bringing his arms around his brothers. Then Roscoe moved, then Ashley.
Billy and I shared a fleeting glance. He gave me a little smile, tilted his head faintly toward our f
amily as though to say, Get in there. That’s where you belong.
So I did.
We’d rolled with the punches—both literally and figuratively—but in the last twelve months, things had changed. Apart from Momma’s death, things had changed for the better. Ashley had returned, and our family was growing. From tonight, even if our lives were physically moving us apart, we were closer.
I was reminded of something my momma used to say, “As time together grows scarce, it also becomes more precious.”
So I hugged my family. I wrapped them in my arms and took a moment to be grateful that they were mine.
* * *
Using the set of keys she gave me, I unlocked the door to Shelly’s cabin and tried to be as silent as possible as I slipped in.
Unfortunately, my plans were thwarted when Laika and Ivan bounded into the living room, snarling and barking like wild animals.
“Dammit.” I winced, regretting my decision to come over.
I hadn’t wanted to wake her up, but I missed her. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Shelly since Tuesday night. Now it was early Friday morning and my bones ached with how much I needed to be near her.
Seeing it was me, the dogs quieted down almost immediately. But they also danced around my legs, requiring ear scratches and head pats before giving me enough space to clear the front door.
“Beau?” Shelly’s sleepy voice carried to me. It sounded like she was in the bedroom.
“Yes. Sorry,” I loud whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
“Come in here.”
“I am. I just need to take off my shoes.”
“Okay.”
Locking the door behind me, I crossed to the couch and sat, thankful to be off my feet. It was now after midnight—way after midnight—and Jethro’s bachelor party was over.
Thank.
The.
Lord.
It had been a long day.
After the revelations of the morning, I took my brothers plus Drew on a scavenger hunt through the Smoky Mountains. We must’ve covered twenty-five miles of wilderness before the sun set. Instead of camping afterward—which was my idea—Cletus had insisted on entertainment.