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I just hope I’m doing it with his mother and not alone in another state.
13
Ida Sue
“I’m worried we’re not doing the right thing.”
“Red, you’re starting to sound like an old woman. You might want to check and make sure your balls are still attached,” I grumble, staring out the door.
“Damn it, Ida Sue.”
“You just be at Faith’s cabin.”
“I’m heading there now,” Bryant responds.
“Good. Did you remember the chains and cuffs? I told Luka to make sure he gave you a set when you dropped Terry off.”
“Ida Sue, I’m not going to chain Maggie to the bed to keep her there,” he snaps, and I just shake my head.
Lord, you sure made some dumb children. I shake my head, silently talking to the Man Upstairs in disgust. At this rate, I’m wondering how he managed to knock up my daughter. If I didn’t know what smart offspring he and Maggie produce, I just might be against this union. Then again, Bryant is a good guy, and he loves my Maggie with a love that’s so strong it reminds me of my Jan’s. So here I am, wading in trying to figure things out for another one of my kids. It’s a good thing they’re all good looking because I swear they’re all a little light upstairs at times.
“And that right there is why we’re in this mess. You need to listen to me. I’m not just here to look pretty,” I mutter.
“You’re going to leave her at the cabin without a vehicle and I’ll make sure she doesn’t know I have a car there. It will be fine—unless she decides to walk all the way back to Mason,” Bryant reasons.
“This is my daughter you’re talking about, Red. She’s stubborn enough to walk the length of Texas in a blizzard if you piss her off.”
“We’ll be fine. You just make sure you have her there. Stall for a little while, too. I’m almost there, just stopping to leave my vehicle and then I’ll be hiking up to the cabin. The kitchen is stocked right?”
“Do you take me for an amateur, boy? Your kitchen is stocked, and I left a few surprises to set the mood.”
“Shit,” he curses, and I resist the urge to laugh.
“You’re welcome,” I respond, really wishing I could cackle—or see their face when they find my surprises.
“Now, I’ll be going out of town for a couple of days. Parker Huntington is having a party and I want to be there for him. He’s going through a rough patch, and I don’t know his family, but Green tells me they—”
“They make mine look like parents of the century,” Bryant says, making me frown.
“Well, shit. Then, I’m definitely going. Besides, I think it’s best I stay away from Maggie for a little bit.”
“You’re afraid this is going to backfire, too. Aren’t you, Ida Sue?”
“Let’s just say, I’d feel more comfortable if you had brought the damn chains,” I grumble. “I’ve got to go, Red. Maggie just pulled up. You get to hiking. We’ll be there shortly.”
“Will do,” I hear him reply as I click off my cell. I plaster a smile on my face, grab my overnight bag which is empty—but Maggie doesn’t need to know that. Finally, I go out to meet my daughter, praying this works.
My kids are stubborn, and they force me to go above and beyond to make sure they find their happiness, but Maggie might be the hardest nut to crack yet. I hope I survive her. If I do, then I figure it will be Blue that will finish me off. It’s too damn bad that boy is too big to flip over on my knee. I never spanked him enough as a kid.
Jan’s getting some years on him, but I wonder if he could take a trip to the woodshed with Blue….
Boy, will that take a lot of sweet-talking.
14
Maggie
“Mom, I’m tired. The last thing I want to do is to go off the main road,” I grumble.
I’m going to kill my family. And while I say that with love, I also say it because my mother is in rare form today.
“Hens and chickens, Magnolia, it’s not like I’m asking for the moon here,” she complains. If I didn’t have to watch the road, I’d lay my head on the steering wheel and cry.
“Hens and chickens? Is that something new you picked up on while preparing for your trip to Parker’s?”
“No,” she sighs. “If you must know, I’m trying to clean up my language. Now that I have so many grandbabies running underfoot, I figure it’s about time to start acting like who I am.”
While she’s talking, she’s adjusting her ponytail and straightening out her wrinkled blue western shirt.
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but who are you?”
“I get so tired of enduring my children’s derision.”
I blink. Derision? My mother usually yells at us and tells us to get our heads out of our asses or, in the alternative, to kiss her ass. I can’t remember when she has ever commented on our derision.
