Don't Cry for Me (12 page)

“I have some tools in the back. Unload them and get busy. I’ll ask you to start at seven and work until 6:00 p.m. every day, and although we didn’t begin until afternoon today, I’m counting this as a full day’s work. You’ll be paid weekly until we get into the actual farming, then twice a month.”

One by one they filed past him, shaking his hand and thanking him over and over. He wondered if they would still be thanking him when he added the drug setup, but it didn’t matter. By then they would be so hooked on steady cash that he didn’t expect much flack.

Buell was riding a high as he took the bolt cutter and strode toward the gate. The chain was red with rust, as was the ancient padlock, but both gave under the cutter’s sharp edge. When the chain fell off, the gates followed, leaving only one still attached by a single hinge.

Lonnie approached him as he pulled them aside.

“Three dump trucks are en route,” Lonnie said. “Load one, and while it’s dumping, you can load the other two. Keep everything in motion. I don’t want anyone sitting around waiting.”

“No, sir. That won’t be happening,” Buell said. “You can count on me.”

Lonnie’s eyes narrowed as he searched Buell’s face. “Don’t make me regret this,” he said softly.

Buell lifted his chin. “No regrets. I swear.”

Lonnie nodded. “You’ll be getting seventy-five dollars a day. Don’t fucking drink it all up. Take care of your damn family for a change. Understand?”

The insult was clear. Buell should have punched him, but he had neither the guts nor the desire to do so. He would take a lot of crap for that kind of money.

All he said was, “I sure do.”

At that point Lonnie smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m counting on you.” Then he looked up the overgrown road, anxious for that first glimpse of the mine itself. “What say we go check out that mine?”

Buell glanced at his truck.

“Not in yours. We’re taking mine,” Lonnie said. “It’s four-wheel drive with plenty of clearance. It’ll get us in and out with no trouble.”

Buell turned to the men. “There are more tools in the back of my truck if you need them. We’ll be back shortly.”

Then he strode to the Hummer as if he rode in one every day and tried not to smirk. Damn, but this might just be the best day of his life.

* * *

Gertie was changing into clean clothes when she heard the sound of approaching cars. She recognized Buell’s truck from the hole in the muffler and the clatter of stuff rattling around in the bed, but the other one was unfamiliar. It had to be Lonnie. Her belly rolled. The anxiety at seeing him again was killing her. The last time they’d seen each other he was being put in the back of the sheriff’s car in handcuffs. He’d looked back at her as they drove away like he was trying to memorize what he was leaving behind. It had bothered her then, and it bothered her still, that he’d never cried. Even at fourteen, he’d been a man before his time.

She ran a brush through her hair and checked to see if her makeup had smeared. Her reflection wasn’t pretty anymore, but it was as good as she could look. She dropped the hairbrush and hurried to the door.

* * *

Lonnie was pleasantly surprised when what had once been the old home place came into view. The house he’d grown up in was gone, and the long, double-wide trailer he’d bought Mama was sitting in the same location. The general disrepair and malaise the place had always worn like an old coat were gone. The old barn had been shored up and reroofed. The pen where they fed out hogs to butcher was actually in good shape, and she’d even added one of those portable carports at the end of the trailer to keep her car out of the weather. He had to give it to his mama. When she had options, she maximized them to the best of her abilities.

It did occur to him that she couldn’t live here alone and keep all this up, and with that understanding, a part of the resentment he’d felt at keeping Portia and her family sheltered and fed was gone.

In a way she was looking after their mother in a more personal way than he ever could or would. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he would ever come back to this mountain to live. The status quo was the best answer for the situation at hand.

Buell parked and got out, then waited by his truck for Lonnie.

The front door was opening as he parked. When he looked again, Gertie Farrell was standing on the porch with her hands clasped beneath her breasts and tears running down her face. He got out of the Hummer, surprised to be feeling emotion of any kind—but it was there. This was the woman who’d helped teach him to read, who’d doctored his cuts and who’d kept them alive on little more than a refusal to quit. She was also the woman who’d turned him into a man. And the day they’d come to arrest him, it was Mama who’d tried to take the blame for being the brains behind the meth he was cooking and selling.

Buell wisely kept his mouth shut, leaving the mother-and-son reunion to them, and hurried on inside, anxious to tell Portia about the day.

Walking toward the house, Lonnie felt as if he was moving in slow motion. A thought passed through his mind that the day would eventually arrive when she would no longer be on this earth. He was glad he’d come home.

“Hey, Mama, still as pretty as ever.”

Gertie smiled through tears as she threw her arms around Lonnie and hugged him fiercely.

“You’re still a good liar, but you’re definitely a man fully grown now. Look at you, Lonnie! Just look at you! I am so proud that you’re my son.”

Lonnie grinned. “Thanks, Mama. You can take the credit for making me tough, ’cause that’s what it took to get here. Now, where’s that pie you promised me? I swear I can smell it from here.”

Gertie led him into the house, then to her bedroom.

“This is where you’ll stay. There’s a private bathroom through that door.”

“This looks like your room,” he said.

A look passed between them, and then it was gone. Gertie smoothed her hands down the front of her dress and smiled.

“It
is
my room, but I’m sleeping with my granddaughter tonight. I’ve done it before, so it’s no big deal. Lucy likes it when Granny shares her bed.”

“So how old is Lucy?” he asked.

“She’s seven and the baby. Marvin is thirteen, and Billy is nine. Portia is really excited to see you again, too.”

“I’m looking forward to playing catch-up, Mama.”

Gertie hesitated, then lowered her voice. “About Portia… She’s different now. Living with Buell dragged her down. Maybe with this new job and all she’ll take some pride in herself again, but don’t say anything to her, all right?”

He frowned.

“He’s not mistreating her, is he?”

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that. But you know how it is here. No hope to change where you grew up. That kind of thing. I just didn’t want her appearance to surprise you.”

When he thought of his older sister, it was as a tall, skinny girl with long hair and a big laugh. Curious as to what he would see, he took off his jacket and laid it at the foot of the bed.

“Okay, so this is my room for tonight. How long until supper? I’m starved.”

She grinned. “It won’t take me long to finish up. Come to the kitchen so we can talk. I swear I need to fill myself up with looking at you so that when you’re gone again, I’ll have this face in my head instead of the other one. You remember him, that skinny boy always in need of a haircut.”

He smiled, but his conscience pricked. He’d been so ready to put this place behind him that never once had he thought of how his absence had impacted her life.

Eleven

T
o say Lonnie was shocked at his sister’s appearance would have been putting it mildly. Even though he’d been warned, he wasn’t prepared to see a woman he didn’t even recognize. Then she spoke and he saw her—lost inside the oversize body and dirty clothes.

Portia lifted her chin, as if preparing for his disapproval.

“Hey, Lonnie, it’s about time you came for a visit.”

He heard the accusation and acknowledged it without reminding her that it was his money putting a roof over her head. Instead he made himself smile.

“It’s good to see you, sister, and good to be home. Something sure smells good.”

And just like that she smiled and the tension was gone. “Mama made pork chops. I’m just finishing up the taters to go with them.”

“Sit, son, sit,” Gertie interjected. “I’ll bring you a cup of coffee. You do still like coffee, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mama, I still like coffee. That would be great.” He sat, eyeing the ease with which the women worked together, and realized it felt more comfortable to be here than he’d expected.

At that point Buell, who’d changed into his old clothes and gone out to feed the hogs and chickens, came in from outside. Three kids followed on his heels, pushing and shoving, loud and shrieking.

Lonnie stood up.

The kids stopped in their tracks, eyeing the stranger in their kitchen. They knew who he was, but before he’d been a faceless stranger who paid the bills. This tall, well-dressed man was so far removed from their experience that they were momentarily taken aback.

Buell pushed them forward. “Kids, this here is your uncle Lonnie. Lonnie, this is Marvin, Billy and Lucy.”

Lonnie eyed them with a quiet gaze. “It’s nice to put faces to names,” he said.

Buell nudged Marvin. “Remember your manners and say hi.”

Marvin mumbled a hello. Billy said hi, and Lucy waved.

Lonnie pointed at Lucy. “You look like your mama.”

“No, she don’t! Mama’s
fat!
” Billy shrieked.

Portia’s expression fell.

Gertie sighed. This was exactly what she’d feared would happen. The kids acted like little animals most of the time. Seemed company wasn’t going to change them.

Lonnie was appalled that Buell hadn’t taken up for Portia or reprimanded their son.

“That shit won’t fly with me,” he said, and all of a sudden the room seemed to shrink. “Since no one else is going to take up for my sister, then I guess the task falls to me.” He pointed at Billy, who was starting to back away, raising his voice until the room echoed with his anger. “It says in the Bible that you honor your father and your mother, so that leads me to believe that you haven’t been paying attention, boy. I’m not going to be here long, but while I am, if I hear one more rude word come out of anybody’s mouth that has to do with my mother or my sister, I’ll take you out back and whip your ass myself. Do I make myself clear?”

Marvin glared. “You’re not our dad. You can’t tell us what to do.”

At that point Portia spoke. “Shut your trap, Marvin. If it wasn’t for your uncle Lonnie, we’d be living with your grandpa Smith, and you wouldn’t have nice clothes or none of them computer games you like to play.”

Buell’s cheeks reddened, but he wasn’t sure how to direct his anger. Bottom line, he knew he should be mad at himself, but technically this was his territory, not Lonnie’s, so he figured he had a right to be mad at Lonnie, too. Still, all things considered, he opted for the side of safety and kept his mouth shut.

Marvin ducked his head and looked away.

Gertie had had enough. “Everybody go wash up. Supper’s ready.”

They quickly left the room, once again leaving Lonnie alone with his mother and sister.

“I’m sorry about that,” Portia said.

Lonnie shrugged. “I learned a long time ago that you teach people how to treat you. The last person who talked shit to me isn’t talking to anyone anymore.”

Gertie gasped.

Portia flinched, looking at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. She didn’t know whether to be grateful he’d taken up for her—or scared of the man he’d become.

It occurred to both women that looks could definitely be deceiving. It was a reminder that the reality of how he lived his life and made his money was an unknown they didn’t want to visit.

Gertie began putting food on the table and talking fast to cover up her confusion. She loved her son, but she realized she didn’t actually know him.

The ensuing meal was uncomfortable for all concerned. Lonnie wished he was anywhere but there.

Buell was afraid Lonnie would fire him for not taking up for Portia.

The kids sensed their parents’ uneasiness and had the good sense to lay low.

Gertie tried her hardest to make everything right, but it was a case of too little, too late.

When Lonnie finally went to bed, all he could think about was leaving. Around three in the morning he got a frantic phone call from one of Sol’s madams back in Chicago. Some high roller had paid big bucks for a woman, then beat her half to death. Retribution was Lonnie’s business. He found himself relieved by the call and looking forward to dealing with it when he got back.

By sunrise he was up and already packed. After reassuring Gertie that he would see her more often and telling Buell that he would be back by the weekend to check on the men’s progress, he drove away.

Gertie stood on the porch, waving until he was out of sight, then went back inside and, in one of her rare fits of temper, turned a cold shoulder on the rest of the family and shut herself inside her room, leaving them to make their own breakfast and get themselves off to school.

It was an eye-opening moment for all of them. Lonnie’s arrival back in Rebel Ridge was causing more commotion than anyone could have predicted. They’d made themselves look bad in his eyes and shamed Gertie. It wouldn’t be beyond her to put all of them out, and they knew it.

* * *

The Sunday cookout Quinn had promised James was on the horizon. Mariah had been here almost a week now and was settling into a routine that bordered on normal. Quinn was an easy man to share space with, and she was curious to see if James Walker was as congenial as his two brothers.

She continued to work on her therapy, even when it hurt—
especially
when it hurt. And she was figuring out that physical exhaustion was at times a fairly decent deterrent to PTSD. She wanted to be well—to be normal again—but she was coming to an understanding that war had forever changed who she was. She couldn’t get back the girl she’d been, but, given time, she was hoping to accept who she was now.

* * *

Quinn was on the back deck scrubbing down his grill, getting ready for tomorrow. He had a list of groceries he needed to buy and was hurrying to get through it. This was going to be Mariah’s first visit to Boone’s Gap, the little town at the foot of Rebel Ridge. It was a long trip down and back, and he hoped she was up to it.

Just as he was finishing up, she came outside. She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved white T-shirt. Her dark curls were still a little damp from her shower, and the lipstick she was wearing matched the color in her cheeks. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen her in makeup and anything but sweatpants, but she looked good. He wanted to strip her naked and make love to her until they were both too weak to move. Instead he whistled low and long.

Mariah blushed. She felt the heat coming up her neck and across her face. It was good to feel attractive, even if it was a fleeting thing.

“If you think this looks good, you’ve been alone too long. When are we leaving? I’m ready to go, and you’re still dirty.”

He grinned. “It won’t take me long. I don’t have to look pretty like you, remember?”

He put the lid down on the grill and turned off the water.

“Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready.”

“Take ten and dry off before you try to get dressed. Trust me, it’s easier, remember?”

The smile froze on his face. He was remembering, just as she was, the time when they’d nearly gotten caught making love in a makeshift shower at base camp, and the crazy race to get dressed while their bodies were still wet. They’d slipped out through a window in the back just ahead of three female soldiers coming in the front door.

Quinn eyed her slowly from head to toe. “I remember everything about you, pretty girl.”

Her breath caught, leaving Mariah tongue-tied. He’d always called her “pretty girl,” but this was the first time he’d said it since she’d been here. It felt good and, at the same time, a little nerve-racking. She wanted him back, but not until she had a grip on this life.

Quinn winked as he jogged past, then ran up the stairs double-time, stripping as he went.

Mariah watched until he disappeared, admiring his lean, toned body, and then closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She started inside, then stopped and looked toward the meadow—into the trees—to the unknown she had yet to conquer. One day, when she was stronger, she would face that down, too, but not today.

* * *

The day was sunny, the road on which Quinn and Mariah were traveling shaded by tall trees bordering both sides. The yellow slices of sunlight coming through the gaps in the limbs and leaves gave the blacktop a patchwork appearance. If she had been the fanciful kind, she might have believed they were on the yellow brick road. But she didn’t believe in wizards, and the only thing she could have wished for was sunglasses.

As they came to a fork in the road, Quinn pointed.

“That road leads to the ranger station up in the reserve.”

“Do you check in there every day?”

“Usually. Sometimes I just call in and they have me go directly to a location.”

“At the risk of sounding stupid, what do rangers do?”

“Technically, I’m a backcountry ranger. I don’t normally deal with the day-to-day stuff that a regular park ranger would, like campers and organized treks, but when there’s an emergency we’re all on board. I’m usually up in the high country, checking for poachers, reports of sick animals, once even a downed plane.”

“Do you work with a partner?”

“Rangers aren’t like cops. We don’t usually work in pairs unless the situation demands it. Why all the questions? You interested in hanging out with me?”

“What? Me? No, I was just—” She sighed. He was messing with her again. “Funny. Real funny.”

Quinn shrugged. “I wasn’t really teasing you. It occurs to me that you have just as many qualifications as I did when I applied.”

Her eyes widened. “I grew up in a city. I barely know the difference between a possum and a raccoon. Besides, I’m not even close to being able to handle a job.”

Quinn slowed down for the curve ahead. “You will be one day. How do you feel about the great outdoors?”

She couldn’t tell him that it scared her. “I can’t be sure. This is my first time around. Can I get back to you on that?”

He laughed. “You have all the time in the world.”

“You’ll get tired of me before that,” she said.

The smile slid off his face. Before she knew it, he was holding her hand, and his expression was no longer teasing.

“No, pretty girl, that’s not true. This might not be the time for it, and it might not be something you’re ready to hear, but just so you know, I won’t ever get tired of you.”

His grip was firm. She got the message.

“Thank you, Quinn, more than you know, but…”

His gut knotted when he heard the “but.” He didn’t want her to say it had been fun sneaking sex back in the day, but she didn’t want a permanent relationship with him.

“Don’t say it. You have a hell of a lot on your plate, and the last thing you need is more pressure. Your job is just to focus on getting well.”

She nodded.

He needed to lighten the conversation. “On another note, see that little road off to your right?”

“Yes?”

“There’s a house about a half mile back. It’s where Meg and Mama live.”

“So now I know where most of your family lives.”

He laughed. “Not even close.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are at least a hundred or so of us, counting the extended family, maybe more, depending on who’s recently given birth.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Nope.”

Her eyes suddenly welled with unshed tears, which shocked her. She hadn’t felt sorry for herself in years, but this had taken her aback. Why were some babies born into big loving families while others got thrown away?

“I can’t imagine that,” she said, and then leaned over, pretending her shoe needed tying so he wouldn’t see the tears.

Quinn frowned. The tone of her voice had changed. He knew she was upset but didn’t understand why.

“Are you comfortable? Is your leg hurting? If you need to stop and stretch, just say the word.”

She straightened up and leaned back in the seat. “It’s okay.”