“It’s a bit unkempt, don’t you think?”
“No.” And she took another done waffle from the appliance and placed it on the plate in the warming drawer.
Colleen persisted. “I know all the young women are wearing their hair that way, but—”
Gary cut her off. “Her hair is fine, Colleen. Leave her alone.”
“You’re a man, you don’t know anything about this.”
“Maybe not, but I know you’re hurting her feelings, so stop.”
As though he knew nothing about that, either, she waved him off. “Leah, am I hurting your feelings?”
“Yes.”
Colleen drew back sharply. She sat silently for a moment, then said, “I just want you to be more attractive.”
“I know,” Leah said sarcastically.
“Well, if you’re going to get all offended . . .”
Gary said, “Let it go, Colleen.”
“I’m her mother—”
“Then act like her feelings matter.”
Leah said softly, “Thanks, Dad, but I’m good. Waffles are ready. Let’s eat.”
The meal was a tense, silent affair. As they ate, he saw Colleen glance questioningly Leah’s way a few times, but Leah avoided the eye contact. It made him wonder if Colleen was feeling remorseful. Had the lightbulb finally come on that maybe her badgering was causing her daughter pain? Tiff was watching Leah too, and her concern was plain. He wanted to make Colleen leave so he could enfold his girls in his arms and hold them both close to his heart. The last thing they needed was Colleen in their lives full-time, and he included himself in that.
Colleen said, “Gary, since you don’t want to remarry, I’m going to petition the court for a change in custody.”
He saw the girls tense and share a look. “And that means what?”
“I want full custody.”
“Not going to happen,” Gary replied bluntly.
“With Brad leaving, I’m alone, Gary.”
He didn’t see how that had anything to do with the girls.
Apparently, Leah didn’t, either. “You didn’t want us after the divorce, and now you do?”
“Yes.”
Leah shook her head. “No.”
“You don’t get to be in this conversation, young lady.”
“Yes, I do. You want to disrupt our lives, make us change schools and move in with you, because you’re lonely? Get a pet.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me that way!”
Leah stood and turned to her father. “May I be excused?”
Colleen snapped, “No, you may not.”
“Dad?”
Gary didn’t hesitate. “Go on, Leah.”
Colleen took her last shot. “When the judge gives me custody—”
“You aren’t going to get custody, Mom, because I have receipts.” And she left the dining room. Gary heard her run up the stairs.
He looked at Tiffany and saw a tiny triumphant smile flash across her lips. It disappeared just as quickly.
A confused Colleen asked, “What does she mean, receipts?”
Gary didn’t know. He was very curious, though. “No idea.”
“Tiffany?” Colleen snapped. “What does that mean? What did she buy?”
Tiff shrugged.
Gary said, “You should call your Uber driver, Colleen.”
“You’re supposed to be taking me back to town.”
“No, you are supposed to be taking yourself back to town. I never agreed to play chauffeur. You decided without asking me, as always.” The entire time they were married, he was invariably the last person to know what she had planned for him.
“It’s not like you have anything else to do.”
He wasn’t going to argue with her. There’d been enough tension and raised voices. “Okay. Let’s go, then. I’ll drive you to town and drop you off.”
“Fine. Get my coat.”
“I’ll be right back, Tiff.”
“Okay.”
Initially, the drive to town was as silent as breakfast had been. He kept his eyes on the road. Colleen stared out her window at the passing landscape, until finally saying, “I don’t appreciate you turning my girls against me.”
“You did that all by yourself, Colleen.”
“We were fine until they began living with you.”
“Believe what you want. I’m not here to argue.”
“I’m serious about the custody change.”
He shrugged. “Okay. We’ll let a judge sort it out.”
“I don’t want you challenging me in court. Just let me have them.”
“What you want isn’t the issue. It’s what the girls want, and I’ll be advocating for them.”
She looked his way. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Enjoying what?”
“Me being alone and in pain.”
“No, Colleen. I’m not.” He wanted to point out that she hadn’t cared about his pain when her lie disrupted his life, but he didn’t. It served no purpose. She’d always been the center of her own world, and those on the fringes hadn’t mattered. Even now they didn’t. All she cared about were her own circumstances, and if screwing up the lives of her daughters served her purposes, she was okay with it.
“I think we should go to counseling and try and work things out so we can remarry.”
“I don’t.”
“You won’t even try?”
He was so outdone with her illogical fixation on this fantasy that he pulled over to the shoulder and stopped the car. “Listen to me,” he said, trying to keep from screaming at her. “Your lies railroaded me into a marriage I hated for over twenty years. When you told your father I got you pregnant, he threatened to have me charged with rape if I didn’t marry you. I was seventeen years old! You and your father stole my life! I’m not marrying you again. Ever.” He remembered how scared he’d been the night her father showed up at his parents’ door, voicing his demands. Colleen was with him, eyes red and puffy from crying. Her father, Milton Ewing, was a rich, powerful man. Gary’s parents were poorly educated farmers who’d spent their lives making sure his life would be better than theirs. Colleen’s lie turned their dreams to ashes.
“Why did you lie?” he asked. It was a question he’d been trying to get an answer to for years and he must have asked it a thousand times when they first married, but each time she responded with tears and accusations that he was being mean to her. Out of frustration, he simply stopped asking; now he wanted the truth. “Tell me. Why? Wasn’t being the richest girl around enough for you? I had dreams, Colleen. A future.” Nori.
She finally turned and said coolly, “Because I wanted to be your girl. You were the smartest, cutest boy in class.”
“But I had a girl. You and I never even dated, let alone had sex.”
“I know,” she sneered. “Nori. Everybody loved Nori with her perfect grades and perfect smile. No one gave me the time of day.”
“Because you were spoiled and mean.”
Anger flashed in her eyes. “And spoiled mean girls get what they want, don’t they?”
Filled with disgust, he steered the car back onto the road and continued the drive into town. When he pulled up to the rec, she got out without a word.
Back at home, he swallowed his bitterness and found the girls cleaning up the kitchen. “Lee. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.”
He led her into the living room. “First, I know one person can’t apologize for someone else, but I’m sorry you had to endure your mom’s attitude.”
“Par for the course, I guess, but thanks for letting me go back to my room.”
“You’re welcome. Talk to me about these receipts.”
Leah paused, eyed him for a moment, and replied, “I’d rather keep them to myself for now.”
“Can I ask why?”
“I just would. I’m not trying to be disrespectful to you or anything, but I think a judge will be interested if she tries to mak
e us live with her. And it’s better if you don’t know. That way no one can say you put me up to it.”
He had no idea what to say next. His mind fumbled for a second or two until he finally came up with, “Does Tiff have receipts, too?”
“Yes.”
Now he was even more curious. He knew what the teens of the day meant by the term receipts, but what possible evidence could they have on Colleen that needed to be kept secret? He was raising them to be forthright, honest young women, and it didn’t feel right for him to demand they share what they had, so he supposed he had to trust them. “Okay. If you think it’s necessary to keep it to yourself, I’m not going to push.”
“Thanks. But can I say one thing?”
“Sure.”
“Get a good lawyer. Tiff and I don’t want to live with her.”
He smiled. “Gotcha.”
To his surprise, she came over and gave him a big hug. She didn’t say anything, but her action meant the world to him after dealing with Colleen. She returned to the kitchen and he went up to his room to get ready for the rest of his day.
Chapter 12
Waiting for Clay to join him at the Dog for breakfast, Mal sat in a booth sipping coffee and musing again on the mess he’d made of his life. Since the Dads Inc. meeting, he’d been unable to get Luis’s words out of his head. Of all the finger-pointing, ragging, and lecturing he’d received since returning to town, none had hit him harder. As a descendant of a proud people, he’d always done his best to be seen in a positive light. Even when he was drinking, he’d been committed to that scenario. Whether it was founding the county’s Buffalo Soldier reenactment group to keep the memory of those brave black soldiers and their service to the nation alive, or being a member of the Kansas Historical Society to ensure the history of the Dusters remained in the forefront, no one had ever called him a detriment to the race until now. And although Mal didn’t want to admit it, the fire chief was right. The burden of that knowledge was heavier than being labeled a drunk or a thief, because his people had spent two hundred years trying to dispel the myths that they were less intelligent, lazy, untrustworthy, and inherently violent. He wondered how many people outside Henry Adams attributed his theft to his race rather than the simpleminded failings of a stupid old man. Probably not many, but he was sure there were some who said, See? They can’t be trusted—they even steal from their own. He hated being tied to such damning conversations.
“You want more coffee?”
He looked up to see Rocky beside him, carafe in hand.
“Yeah. Warm me up. Clay’s running late.”
She poured. “You’re looking pretty gloomy.”
“Gloomy times.”
“Jack said you stormed out of the meeting the other night.”
“And men say women can’t keep a secret.”
She ignored that. “He told me how angry Luis was and what he said.”
“And Luis is right.”
Rocky sighed sympathetically. “Wish I could tell you how to fix it.”
“I know. It’s on me, though.”
She nodded. “Here comes your buddy.”
Clay walked through the crowded room and sat down. “Morning, Rock.”
“Hey, Clay. You two want your usual?”
They nodded. She poured coffee into the empty mug in front of Clay and went to put in their orders.
“Sorry I’m late. Got hung up on the phone. Sandy Langster called.”
Mal perked up. “What’d she say?”
“She got a call from Dresden’s wife. He’s in Jamaica with his nineteen-year-old girlfriend. Wants a divorce.”
Mal shook his head. He’d run with the young ones before meeting Bernadine. He hoped Dresden had lots of Viagra.
“The wife told him we wanted our money back and she’d be calling the cops if he didn’t return it and make it worth her while to say yes to the divorce.”
Mal stared. “She wants a cut of our money?”
“Sounds that way.”
“How much does she want?”
“Sandy doesn’t know, but said the wife was so angry at Dresden it was hard to get a word in with all the cussing and yelling.”
Mal didn’t believe this.
Their meals arrived shortly thereafter. They’d just dug in when Clay’s phone buzzed. He looked at the screen. “It’s Jimmy. I’m going to take this. Be right back.”
Mal watched him talk on the phone as he walked to the deserted area by the door. Standing there, he conversed for a few long minutes before lowering the phone and returning to their booth.
“Well,” Clay said, retaking his seat, “Jimmy just got a message from Dresden. He’s going to wire back Jimmy’s portion and mine.”
“And what about me?”
“He said he’s paying his wife off with some of the rest.”
“Some? How much is some?”
Clay shrugged. “Jimmy asked about that, but Dresden said he’d heard you got the money illegally, and since you can’t call the cops, he’s keeping it so he can pay off his wife.”
Mal was floored. “How does he know? Did Jimmy tell him?”
“Since I didn’t tell Jimmy about it until after Dresden disappeared, my guess is no, but Dresden’s wife has family in Franklin, maybe they heard it through the grapevine. Didn’t you tell me that’s how Ruth found out?”
Mal fell back against the booth. Ruth did say that. The hole he was in kept getting deeper and deeper. How many more uppercuts did he have to take before he could leave the ring? “I need that money back, man.”
“I know, but I don’t know what to tell you. Sandy said you might not get it back the day she met with us, remember? Maybe Dresden will get religion and send it all.”
The way things kept spiraling down, Mal didn’t hold much hope.
He and Clay finished their meals, paid the bill, and walked outside to the parking lot. Down the street they saw a crowd of people assembled in front of the church.
Clay asked, “Is that Trent and Lily’s reunion group?”
“Yeah. They’re doing a walking tour to show off all the new stuff in town.”
Someone tapped Mal on the shoulder. He turned to see a younger man about his height. He looked vaguely familiar, but Mal wasn’t sure why.
“Are you Mal July?”
“Yes. Who are you?”
“Ruth’s little brother.”
Mal didn’t have time to get out of the way of the fist that exploded in his face, or the one that crashed into his gut. Thunderous pain was the last thing he remembered before everything went black.
When he opened his eyes, he didn’t know where he was, but he was propped up and his vision was so hazy that he had trouble focusing. Someone was moaning. It took a few seconds to realize he was the source. His nose felt plugged up and his stomach and ribs were on fire, reminiscent of the time he’d been head-butted by an angry Cletus. He closed his eyes again and heard someone say, “He’s awake.” Was that Tamar? He tried to sit up straight so he could look around, but his head hurt so badly that another moan rose, and he slowly eased himself back against whatever was propping him up.
Reg Garland shimmered into view. “How you doing, Mal?” The doc placed a hand against his forehead.
Mal croaked, “What happened? Where am I?”
“You’re in my clinic. Clay said you were sucker-punched by Ruth’s brother. Do you remember?”
Mal fought to make his memory work. For a moment it refused, too much fog, and then his mind replayed the punch in the face and the lower one that followed. “Yeah, I do. Clay bring me here?”
“Luis did. He said to tell you thanks for allowing him to use the town’s ambulance for the first time. He had the sirens and flashers going the whole half block it took to get you here.”
“Jesus,” Mal whispered. He’d never live this down, but he was more concerned with the pain in his head. It felt like someone was using it for an anvil. “Why’s my head hurting like this?” He belatedly realized
he was propped up against a partially raised hospital bed covered by a white sheet.
“The punch broke your nose, and when you fell, you hit your head on the asphalt. I straightened the nose while you were out, but it’s going to hurt for a few days.”
“Great.”
“Now that you’re awake I’ll get you some ibuprofen, and here, put this ice pack on your nose to keep the swelling down. You’ve got a busted rib and may have one or two black eyes before this is all said and done.”
Double great. The ice pack gave him some relief. The cold felt good. Only then did he notice Trent, Tamar, and Clay standing at the foot of the bed.
Trent said, “You scared us, old man.”
“Yes, you did,” Tamar said, her voice filled with concern. “Will wants to know if you want to press charges?”
“No.” He didn’t want to see Ruth or her brother ever again, and in truth, he’d earned the knockout for treating her the way he had.
“You sure?” Clay asked.
“Yeah. I am. Did he get away?”
Clay said, “He tried, but Rock was in her truck getting ready to run some food down to the rec. When he jumped into his car to drive off, she grabbed her shotgun out of the bed’s locker and blew out his back window.”
Trent took up the tale. “By the time Luis and the rest of us ran down the street to see what was going on, he was facedown on the ground with his arms stretched above his head. Rock had her foot on his back, the shotgun pointed at his head, and he was crying like a baby.”
Mal smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks. Rock to the rescue.
Clay said, “I’m glad she’s on our side.”
Mal was, too.
Reg returned with the pain meds and a cup of water. “Drink slowly. You may have trouble swallowing because of your busted nose.”
Reg was right, but Mal managed to drink without choking too badly. He handed the cup back. “When can I go home?”
“You’re going home with me,” Tamar informed him. “Reg said you need to be watched in case you have a concussion.”
He didn’t want to go to Tamar’s. He wanted to go to his own place, but he was in too much pain to argue.