Place Your Betts (The Marilyns) (10 page)

“What do you know? We do have some common ground.” Miracles happened everyday. “And your granddaddy, how would he have felt about the whole organic thing?”

Gabe’s grandfather was his idol.

“He’d kick my butt. Papa Ken refused to monkey with tradition.” A muscle in Gabe’s jaw twitched, and the humor in his eyes mixed with pained regret.

She’d hit a nerve, and she hadn’t even been trying. Their common ground ripped open and swallowed her up. Betts pressed her lips together. She had no idea what to say.

Mama smacked her gum. “Damn, I hate these awkward silences.” She turned her attention to Gabe. “Since you appear to be beating yourself up emotionally, I’d be happy to get my baseball bat and give you some real bruises to match your battered heart. It’ll be fun…cathartic.”

“I’m Baptist. We don’t do cathartic.” Gabe relaxed a bit, but his good mood was gone.

“That’s why I converted to Catholicism. Sure, it’ll cost you a couple dozen Hail Marys, but confession is worth it. Reliving my latest sins and making my Parrish priest blush…good times.” Mama nodded and smiled broadly like she was mentally running through her next confession. A girlish giggle rumbled out of her mouth. “Oh, yeah, that’s gotta be worth a dozen rosaries at least.”

Gabe opened his mouth to say something, but Betts put a hand on his arm.

“Think very carefully before you ask for details.” She dropped her hand. “Mama has no boundaries.”

“Good point.” His eyes flicked from Mama to Betts and back again. “Are you sure the two of you are related?”

“I know, right?” Mama swept her hand in Betts’s direction. “She doesn’t even have one tattoo. I blame her father’s boring DNA. Never sleep with a man who only wears wrinkle-free shirts.”

Betts shook her head at Gabe. “Questions only encourage her.”

“Can I talk to you alone?” Gabe took her arm and pulled her to a low point in the barbwire. His big hands went around her waist, and like she weighed nothing, he lifted her over the fence. Her sides burned under his hands, and then he dropped her like a hot potato as soon as she’d cleared the barbwire.

“I’m right out here if you need me.” Mama called out. “Just holler and I’ll come running, swinging my bat first and asking questions later. Gabe, just so you know, I’ve been arrested for assault and battery twice this year.”

Gabe looked back at Mama. “Why does she sound proud?”

Betts shrugged. “Getting arrested is her hobby. Some people collect stamps or ballroom dance, Mama visits jail cells. She’s thinking of publishing a coffee-table book complete with photos and remembrances.”

Gabe didn’t have a right to judge.

“I thought my family was dysfunctional. Compared to yours, my family looks sane.” Gabe opened the front door, stepped aside, put a hand to the small of her back, and propelled her forward.

“Don’t let Mama hear you say that.” Her eyes flicked to his face, but he didn’t seem to notice that he’d touched her.

Gabe closed the door. “I’m not afraid of her or her baseball bat—”

“You should be. She’s dying to see the inside of the new Harrison County Jail. Not everyone can pull off jumpsuit-orange, but Mama sees it as her signature color.” Better to make him think she was kidding or he wouldn’t let Tom within ten feet of Mama. Whether Gabe liked it or not, Mama would be popping in and out of Tom’s life forever. With her, love was a contact sport, and she liked to be close enough to tackle when the mood struck.

“Right.” He was close enough that she could smell him—Irish spring, sweat, and something under it that was all Gabe. It reminded her of the tee shirt he’d lent her when they’d gone skinny dipping in the stock pond not too far from this cabin. She’d loved that smell. For the first few months of her pregnancy, she’d put on that shirt when she was down and missing him. With time, the odor and the need for Gabe had faded.

Betts blinked several times, adjusting to the dim light. The small cabin looked exactly the same except…not. Dark, exposed beams chopped the ceiling into thirds. A monstrous stone fireplace dominated one entire wall. Across from it, a kitchenette held a refrigerator, two-burner stove, and a sink. All those years ago, there’d been a bed of sleeping bags, candlelight, and rose petals. Romance, teenage style. Her heart did a flip-flop. At the time, he’d done his best for her, and she’d felt special and cherished and loved. If she’d known then what she knew now, she’d have shoved the rose petals down his throat, set the sleeping bags on fire, and run as fast as she could to get away.

“I know it isn’t much compared to the palace you probably live in, but it’s our home. Stop looking at it like it smells bad.” Gabe pointed the sofa. “Sit.”

“Nope. I’ll stand.” Betts folded her arms over her chest.

Gabe blew out a long breath that said she was a pain in the ass.

“Thanks for sending Tom over last night. It means a lot that you’re willing to let me in his life.” Gratitude just about choked her to death, and she felt beholden to Gabe. She hated owing anyone—especially him—but Betts didn’t shy away from her responsibilities. At least, not since she’d given up Tom.

“You’re welcome.” He nodded his acceptance. “Was that as painful as it sounded?”

“You have no idea.”

Gabe went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap and downed half. “I hate to repeat myself, but what do you want?”

“Some water would be nice. And I need to use the bathroom—”

“What do you want from Tom?” Gabe cocked his head to one side and evaluated her.

“A relationship.” Betts played with the locket around her neck. Until recently, it was the only evidence she had of him. “Believe it or not, I don’t have an evil master plan to swoop in and take over the world. I just want to get to know my son.”

Her opportunity to know her father was gone forever, not because he was dead but because he was an asshole.

There was enough skepticism on Gabe’s face that Betts was starting to believe she did have some secret master plan.

“I don’t want him hurt, in any way.” Gabe said.

“Me either. That’s part of why I came, to make sure you didn’t parent like your father.” She folded her arms and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Tom is my first priority.”

“Living this close, you’ll see him everyday. He’ll become attached. When you up and leave, he’ll be disappointed. Don’t make me regret this arrangement.” Reckless, teenaged Gabe had turned into a responsible adult.

“What arrangement? I live next door. I’m going to see him whether you like it or not. I’d prefer your blessing because stalking him at the fence line sounds like a lot of work, not to mention, it’s creepy.”

He studied her for a full minute. “Okay, but you can’t countermand my authority, and you can’t tell Tom that you’re—”

“His mother. I know.”

“Nice doing business with you.” Gabe nodded toward the door. “You can let yourself out.”

He was dismissing her. “That’s not very polite.”

One corner of his mouth curled up. “Do you see me holding a shotgun? To my way of thinking, I’m the picture of southern hospitality.”

How could she not return his smile?

“Don’t you have some tour or record to finish?”

Yes, but that wasn’t any of his business. “Nope. I’m free as a bird.”

Betts leaned against the kitchen counter and made herself comfortable.

“Bye.” Gabe tossed the water bottle in the recycle bin, walked across the small room, and down a dark hall. “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”

Betts stayed put. She wasn’t leaving until she was good and ready.

Gabe closed a door. The unmistakable rumble of water turned on. He was going to take a shower.

Betts smiled. She wasn’t leaving town or this house until she’d gotten what she wanted. She stood, walked to the refrigerator, and pulled out two bottles of water. The cool plastic chilled her hands for a minute before she laid them on the counter. With an extra sway in her hips, she walked down the hall and threw open the only closed door. A thick wall of steam floated out.

Betts grinned at the solid form moving behind the dark-green-and-maroon-stripped shower curtain. She kicked the crumpled clothes out of the way, stepped in front of the toilet, unsnapped her jeans, and answered nature’s call. After she’d finished buttoning up, she tugged the toilet handle down and waited for the cold water to replace Gabe’s hot. Thank God for old plumbing.

“Jesus! What the hell?” He tore the shower curtain back. Soap bubbles dripped down his face. He opened his eyes and jumped back, pulling the curtain around him. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

Betts turned on the tap and washed her hands. “Told you. I had to pee. Thanks for the water. See ya, neighbor.” She walked out of the bathroom and slammed the door.

Leaving felt good when it was on her terms.

Two days later, Betts hoisted the final load of clothes out to Gigi’s old Mustang. It was moving day. Her Mercedes had a busted axle, but Manny, of Manny’s Garage and Mini Mart, had delivered it himself this morning. Mama had taken the Mercedes; Betts liked driving the old Mustang. Since the car had been Gigi’s only vice, driving it hard and fast was the perfect screw-you. Then again, comforts like satellite radio and seat belts would have been nice.

Yesterday, Mama and Betts had parked the tour bus in its new home and watched while the electric lines and sewer lines were hooked up.

Thank God Mama was out now doing God knows what to God knows who, because Betts wanted some alone time. After squeezing the last load into the backseat of the Mustang, she waved to the gawkers and slid behind the wheel.

A vicious rumor had started in the DQ parking lot that Betts Monroe was leaving town. Since it was started by Bump at her request, she rolled down the window, smiled brightly, and said, “Y’all have been so kind. I’ll miss Hollisville, but I’ve got an album to finish. Thank you for making me feel so welcome.”

Betts had brokered a deal with the town’s four churches—if they convinced their parishioners to give Betts six months of privacy, she’d give the town a free concert and donate ten thousand dollars to each of the four churches. Just to make it interesting, she’d made the deal all or nothing, so even if one person bothered her or turned her into the media, all four churches would lose their ten grand. The last part had been Mama’s idea. She’d always said that people would do things for Jesus that they wouldn’t do for themselves.

Shouts and sobs swirled through the crowd. Bump, who appeared to have been elected leader presumably because he’d been the go-between for the deal, stepped out of the throng and removed his hat.

“It was an honor to have met you. You make our lives better with your songs. As a tribute, one of us will stand guard over your granny’s house, and we’ll keep a candle burning until you return. It’s the least we can do.” For the sake of the
National Enquirer,
which had a reporter not ten feet from Bump, his voice dripped solemnity and purpose. “Just like Graceland.”

Wow, that was laying it on kinda thick.

Betts pressed her lips together while her brain scrounged for something suitable to say for the media’s sake. Instead she nodded graciously, sniffed loudly hoping that conveyed that she was too emotional to speak, rolled up the window, and pulled away from the curb.

A green Dodge Durango pulled in behind her. Behind him, a dark blue Ford F-150 fell in line, followed by a silver Mazda, a black Mercury Cougar, and a white Toyota Corolla brought up the rear. It was Betts’s own going away escort. Like the Mayor leading the Christmas parade, Betts turned onto Highway 80 and headed to the county line. As she approached the green-and-white road sign signaling the end of Harrison County and the beginning of Gregg, Betts looked in the rearview and prayed they weren’t going to follow her all the way to the ranch.

Twenty minutes later, she turned onto the road that led to the ranch.

This was the first day of Betts’s new life. She’d be close to her son. They could go for walks in the woods and talk about girls or play music together. She’d cook for him, and maybe in time, he’d call her Mom. Delight bubbled inside her. In short, she was knocking on normal’s door.

She looked up and stomped on the brake just in time. The old Mustang squealed to a stop a hair’s breadth from the shiny new padlock bolting the front gate together.

“Son of a bitch.” Betts rolled her neck trying to work out some of the stiffness.

Gabe wanted to play. This was payback for the cold shower. She shook her head. He got credit for trying, but creativity wasn’t his strong suit. She stepped out of the car and, knowing that it wouldn’t do a bit of good, she rattled the gate, testing the lock. The gate remained closed.

The ground to the left of the gate was pretty level. A couple of scrawny pine trees and some spindly shrubs were all that stood between her and entry to her land. Betts smiled as she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Mama.

Mama picked up on the second ring. “I’m kinda busy right now. Can I call you back?”

“Nope. This is an emergency. I need a chainsaw and…” Betts’s stomach growled, “a large Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup Blizzard—”

“Are we having a party? Why didn’t you tell me? I’ll grab some wine too. Something dry and red. Red always goes well with mayhem and destruction.” Mama hung up.

Betts grinned. Mama meant well…or Betts hoped she meant well.

Betts’s phone rang, and she jumped because it was still pressed to her ear. After checking the caller ID, she answered.

“In all the excitement, I forgot to ask where to make your delivery.” Mama said.

“The ranch—”

“What ranch?”

“My ranch.”

“You have a ranch?”

Betts rolled her eyes. “You know that land where you parked my tour bus?”

“That’s not a ranch. That’s some land with cows. A ranch has a huge house, horses, barns, ranch hands, a cool name like The Double D—”

“The Double D—really? Your bra size and your high school grades all mixed up in the same versatile letter.”

Betts was pretty sure that her family tree had been struck by lightning because that was the only explanation for Mama.