The Plenty

by Peter Anthony

  Chapter 30.

  Ray arrived back at the farm, alone, without Ethan or Jacob, the former having elected to walk, the latter left behind at Dr. Parker's office. With regret, Ray abandoned Jacob at the doctor, and let Ethan wander, but a dairy farmer is never loose of the tether to cattle and clock. The trade allowed for no sick days, no vacation pay, no weekends, no holidays, and ultimately, no sympathy. Cluttered with events of the day, he pulled into the driveway of the Marak farm and parked in front of the barn. The lights of the milkhouse glowed, meaning Renee, for the second time in a day, had ridden the four-wheeler out to the pasture and collected the cattle for milking.

  In the parlor she stood in knee-high boots, her hair in a bandana, her mouth in a straight line. Limping down the steel stairs to the parlor floor, Ray said, "I can take over."

  "I'm started now," said Renee, connecting a milker to an udder, "I might just as well finish it up."

  "You can go rest."

  "Rest?" she said, laughing, in a defensive tone. "Maybe you should go rest. You're off your rocker. A fight with Jacob? Dragging them to confession?"

  "Now, now," Ray said, moving alongside her to pushup a milker that sagged and made an loud sucking sound. "Gotta keep this one tight on Hannah," referring to the cow, changing the subject. "She'll be dry soon. Maybe this is what Ross Perot meant by a giant sucking sound."

  "Yeah, I know she's going dry, I'm aware of that, Ray," she replied. "I noticed it this morning. Forgetting Hannah's udder issues for a moment: where are the boys?"

  "In town," said Ray. He could tell by the tone of Renee's voice, the coming week, perhaps all of winter, would have many long silent nights between them. "Jacob's at the doctor. I told him we'd pick him up after milking. Just a collarbone. Nobody ever died of a broken collarbone."

  Renee did not say anything for a moment, and then said, "You just left him at the doctor."

  "That's right."

  She shook her head.

  Unless provoked, Ray decided to keep the matter concerning Ethan under a rug. Too many things to consider now, with his mind already made up to expand the farm. This too required a timely moment to bring up to Renee, although her vote for or against the idea carried no weight – the decision was made. He already saw a new combine in the shed, another hundred head of cattle, a bunker silo, and another three grain bins standing tall in the yard. Even the idea put into his mind by the lawyer about running for county commissioner started to make sense. Despite the domestic mess made by his sons that day, the momentum of business and progress swelled Ray's sense of place in the world. And domestic affairs were trifles in the big picture, with that picture being a Marak farm that resembled the awed Yaren Farms. Ray turned up the radio as the oldies songs played music through a manure-spattered speaker.

  "Where's Ethan?" asked Renee, immediately turning down the radio.

  "Decided to go for a walk in town," said Ray, acting as if nothing eventful happened. "He's worked up, rightfully so. Rightfully so."

  "Is he coming home?"

  "He said he's going back to school tonight."

  "Well, his books are still on the table in the house. He can't go back without them." The wrinkles in her face had deepened since the morning. "Do you know where he's at, so I can go get him? I need to talk to him. Or did you just dump him somewhere."

  "He wanted to walk."

  "Did everyone sign the will, or did he go for a walk before that?"

  "All taken care of," said Ray.

  "Oh yeah?" said Renee. "All taken care of. So everyone signed?"

  "What'd I just say?" said Ray.

  "You said everyone signed the will, but Matt Klein, for whatever reason," Renee said, brushing one hand through the air as if knocking a fly aside, "called and told me that he'd keep the will 'as-is for now,' and that if Ethan wanted to sign it later, he could come back and sign it."

  A rubber button popped up, and Ray moved over to a cow to remove the milker and hang it on its hook, while muttering epithets about Klein's lack of ability to gauge what had happened in his office. He said to Renee, "Ok, good to hear, good to hear. Had a nice chat with Klein today. He's a real talker, that one."

  "Why didn't Ethan sign the will? Ray?" Renee folder her arms and waited, watching her husband pick up the teat dip bottle and dunk the cow four times. "Ray? Did you hear me?"

  "I heard you," said Ray, throwing the bottle to the cement floor, where the pink fluid ran into a trough. "He didn't sign it because he decided he's an atheist. That's why he didn't sign it."

  "What?"

  "You heard me. He doesn't believe in God. So I told him when he changes his mind about that, he can sign the will. Until then, I don't care what he does."

  "What?" She put her fingertips on her temples. "Ray, are you kidding me? You excluded him because of something he said, on the day when his brother stole his girlfriend? He's been punished enough for one day."

  "You hated that girl anyway. How many times did I spend my last ten minutes of the day on the pillow listening to what you disliked about that girl and her mother and her uncle and God knows who else. No, it doesn't change the fact that Jacob fouled up, but if Ethan's got no religion, he's out," said Ray, holding his thumb in the air like an umpire and leaning toward Renee.

  "Not if I have a say. I have a say in this."

  "Your name isn't on the title of this farm, Renee. You'll get the money if I croak, but I get to say who farms it."

  "We'll see about that," said Renee, gritting her teeth and shoving past Ray. "We'll just see about that. You got no right to keep him out. You got no decency…"

  "I got every right," said Ray, raising the past. "I got more than every right. Ethan took a long time to do it, but he showed his true colors today, and his mind works like a Werther after all."

  "You bastard! You were just looking for an excuse to exclude him!" said Renee, throwing the radio at Ray. The music died when the speaker shattered against the cement. "So righteous, you are! This is your way of getting back at me now, isn't it? Isn't it, Ray? Well, if you didn't want to raise him, you could have said so ten years ago."

  "Like I had a choice! I'd already spent ten years raising him," Ray yelled.

  "You are gonna pay for this, Ray," she promised. "You are going to pay for this one. I guarantee you, the day will come when I hold the cards and you won't. It will not go as planned for you, I promise you that, Ray."

  "Promise me something else," said Ray. "When you go into the house, promise me you'll take a PMS pill. Can you do that for me? I had no problems with Ethan until today, but if there's one line no son of mine can cross, it's this one."

  "That's right, that's because you think you are God," she said, "and you forgot, you're just a farmer."

  She left the parlor and entered the milkhouse, pulling the bandana from her hair and dropping it in the milkhouse sink as she passed. Revenge, as it turned out, could not wait, as her eyes pried her surroundings for something sacred of Ray's that she could defile. Rifling through a cabinet, she took out the Playboy magazine and turned to the centerfold page and ripped it out, and not knowing what to do with the picture of the woman, she let it fall to the floor, if only to remind Ray of his double-standard for morality. What she did not know was that the magazine belonged to Jacob, not Ray. She muttered, "And you can forget about having sex for the rest of your natural life, Ray. You'll need this centerfold and many others." As the naked woman soaked up water on the floor, Renee noticed the plug on the bulk tank and thought of how Ray stormed and raged when Joachim Frye let all the milk run down the drain. A wry curl on her lips spread as she reached down and unscrewed the plug, and watched the white begin to flow and spill upon her fingertips, until the last thread of the screw released and the gush began. Hundreds of dollars, she watched with glee as it slipped down the drain, knowing that it would affect her budget more than her husband's. The monetary punishment would be hers
to suffer, and the satisfaction would be worth every penny gone without. Watching the milk disappear, she resolved in her mind, that neither Ray nor Jacob would ever be allowed purchase of the Masterson acres, but Ethan alone would own those three hundred, even if she died a pauper in wresting the deed from her brothers and delivering it to her son, Ethan.

  On her way out of the milkhouse, Fonzy the cat nuzzled Renee's foot and she swatted him away with her manure-laden boot. At the house, she kicked her heel against a concrete step to remove the rubber boots and walked directly into the kitchen, collected Ethan's books, and exited the house with the backpack over her shoulder, to her car, only to find that the battery had died, since Ethan in his furious return had left the door ajar, the interior light had drained the battery. This did not deter Renee. She had Jacob's keys.

  In his truck, she cringed upon opening the door. The smell of Tara's perfume touched her, invaded her lungs. She shuddered amid the evidence of injustice.

  On her way into town, she searched for Ethan on the shoulders of the road, then carefully navigated the streets among the ghosts and goblins that wandered from house to house. She stopped periodically to shout at friends and acquaintances and ask about Ethan, even stopping at the Ingeston house to ask if they had seen him. Dave Ingeston answered the door and turned Renee away with a soft rejection, as Tara peeked out the window, sullen in her bedroom prison cell.

  After searching the gas station, the Legion, and the pub, Renee stopped at the lawyer's office. Klein pointed down the road, in the direction he last saw Ethan walking. Renee admonished Klein for allowing Ray to block Ethan, but Klein protested saying that the decision came from Ray.

  Driving out of town, she recognized the shape of her son walking along the shoulder of the road, already several miles from the lawyer's house. Alongside Ethan, she slowed the truck and rolled down the window, waiting for him to look over. Finally, she said, "It's me, not Jacob. I have your books, Ethan."

  Ethan said, "Just drop them off at my car in the field, please."

  "Can I give you a ride, dear?"

  "No, mother."

  "I need to talk to you."

  "Meet me at my car," he said. "I'm not getting into that pickup."

  "Ok, Ethan," she said, driving ahead the last half mile, allowing him some space. Renee turned into the field driveway and parked next to Ethan's car. Stepping into the field, she observed the Werther house on the other side of the remaining unpicked corn. Hands on her hips, she watched her son approach on the road under the wide-open sky and the flat prairie going for miles to the horizon. A vast openness and emptiness whipped in the autumn wind. This was the same gaping sky that she and Josh had once gazed at during that summer they spent together so long ago. A lifetime ago, and still only yesterday. Goose-bumps raised on her forearms and her neck as the air played with her short, untidy hair. Ethan stepped down from the road, still taking swift steps, with his head up but eyes unfocused.

  She handed the backpack to Ethan, who took it and said, "I won't be back in Immaculate for a long time."

  "Then I will come to see you," said Renee, taking his hands. "I'll visit, alone, until this passes."

  Ethan scoffed. "This will not pass, Mom. I didn't just wake up and decide this morning…"

  "I'm not talking about God," said Renee. "Never mind God when you're talking to me. If you told me you'd murdered someone, I'd spend my life on the run if I had to. You're not the only one Ray messed with today."

  "Oh? Were you disowned as well?" asked Ethan, not allowing Renee to respond. "Yeah, didn't think so." He started toward the car door, saying, "Goodbye, Mom. Call me in a few hours if you need reassurance that I made it back to the dorms. But I won't be calling the home phone number."

  "Ethan," she said. "There is still a farm for you, one that neither Ray or Jacob can have."

  He stopped. Irritated, he said, "What are you talking about?"

  She said, "This farm, Ethan. The one you are standing on. This belongs to me, not Ray." She paused and pointed behind her, across the road, toward the town of Immaculate, trying to lasso the three hundred acres with her index finger. "Ethan, I will talk to my brothers and be the thorn in their side until I get a guarantee that this land will belong to you."

  Too stunned to respond, he listened carefully.

  "On my grave, Ethan," she said, doing the sign of the cross, "this land here will be yours, if you want it. I want you to go back to school knowing that – you may have lost a small farm today, but gained a larger one. As long as I am breathing, this will be yours when you are ready for it." When he still did not respond, she said, "Study hard and save your pennies, Ethan. If it takes ten years, or twenty for you to decide. Just go and continue on from where you are now, and know that this is here. Ok?"

  "But…"

  "Don't decide anything now, just know that I've promised you."

  "Ok."

  She hugged him briefly, with a tight embrace before letting go.

  Over his mother's shoulder, he could see the Werther house.

  Ethan said, "I should go see him before I leave."

  "Who?" said Renee, pushing back from Ethan to view his face.

  "My real Dad."