Under the Cypress Moon (34 page)

"There's been so much bad stuff lately with people gettin' hurt and with this place gettin' shut down and with my dad and everything.  I was thinkin' that we could all use a good time.  I know Shylah's not used to bein' away from you so much.  I was thinkin' you two and Mrs. King should come by the house later.  We'll fire up the grill... ribs, steaks, hamburgers, everything.  We'll have a few beers, have a few laughs.  You get to spend some time with Shylah.  It might take away some of the stress I know everybody's feelin'. You don't have to bring a thing.  I'll go by the store later and pick up everything I can get my hands on."

"Sounds pretty damn good to me," T.L. chimed in with a smile.

"Yeah, ok.  Sounds alright," Darius quickly seconded.

"You're gonna need help, though, Mark," T.L. informed his friend.  "The way you are right now, you can't do all that yourself.  Let me know when you wanna go, and I'll help you go get everything."

"Ok. Cool.  I'm gonna go deal with these government guys and the estimators.  Maybe we'll get a few more hours of work in today.  You guys  just sit tight, and I'll be back when I have word."

"What about me, Mark," came a booming voice from one table away as Mark pulled himself back up, his long arms leaning on the table between Darius and T.L.  Mark quickly turned to see the eyes of Aaron Jones staring directly at him.

"You know I wouldn't forget you, Mr. Jones.  Of course, you're welcome.  I know Shylah'd be tickled to see her favorite uncle!" 

Aaron Jones was a rather large man who could eat his weight in grilled meats, and though Mark had nothing personally or professionally to hold against the man, being the valued employee that Aaron Jones was, Mark hadn't really taken much thought of inviting the man.  Feeding him would prove quite expensive, not to mention that he could rarely be engaged in much conversation, very sallow and withdrawn since the death of his wife.

"I thought maybe you was only includin' them two over there and not me," the man bellowed, though Mark could not tell if he were about to cry or scream.

"No, Mr. Jones.  I'm sorry.  You're always welcome!"

A part of Darius felt like speaking up and announcing that Mark was lying to save face.  He hoped that Mark was telling the truth, but he had his doubts.  Even he, Darius, the brother-in-law of the obese Aaron Jones, cared little for inviting him to family functions anymore.  Muttering to his son, Darius spoke his mind a little, "There goes any food for the rest of us."

"Daddy, be nice!  If Mama heard you say that, she'd skin you!"

Within no time, arrangements were made.  Both Betty Jo Birchum and Pearlina King loved the idea of the affair, though neither knew anything about the other, believing that it would only involve their own families and Mark and Shylah.  Mark busied himself right away with the more important tasks at hand, diffusing the situation with OSHA and speaking with the men making construction estimates.

The estimates for repairs, expansions, and outfitting were much to Mark's satisfaction, all within reasonable budget limits and even offered with opportunities for prolonged payment schedules, something that would go far in bringing the plant back to prosperity; however, with Mark's lack of acceptance to offer a bribe to the head OSHA inspector, more irregularities and unsafe conditions were reported.  All in all, OSHA levied five million eight hundred seventy-five thousand dollars in fines.

Mark felt little worry about it all.  Despite a little more than seven and one-half million dollars in government fines, construction costs could easily be met, especially with a bank loan.  There may be no need to look for any money stashed away by his father, Mark hoped. 
It would all work out, he told himself, smiling, saying a silent prayer of thank you to God.  The employees could now go back to work.  Construction would begin at the beginning of the next week, and the fitting of furnaces and the new CATOX system would start sometimes very soon thereafter.

Mark happily reported the news to Don, who had just gotten off of the phone with the President of First Georgia Southern Bank & Trust.  "Well, Mark, Eli Mitchell will be here in the morning.  He wants to look the place over and discuss all of our needs.  He thinks that a loan is quite doable.  He wants to look over cost estimates, bank records, sales projections, all of it, but he says that if everything looks as good as he thinks it will, he can probably get us a twenty million dollar loan to help us get through everything.  I think we're good.  Can you be here for the meeting?  I'd prefer you sat in on it.  You're the man in charge, and you have to be the one to sign off on anything."

"Yeah.  Of course.  I wouldn't miss it.  Well, I got good news for you and bad news for you, Don, but overall, I'm pretty happy.  Take your pick."

"Bad news, always bad news first."

"Ok.  I didn't bribe OSHA.  They found more problems, even though I don't think they really did.  I think they're just tryin' to stick it to us as hard as they can.  Anyway, we're lookin' at almost six."

"Six million?!"

"Yep."

"Damnit!  Damn!  Damn!  Damn!  What happened to four?!"

"Like I said, they're just tryin' to hurt us, but we can do this.  Total fines from both places, we're lookin' at just over seven and a half."

"Ok.  Good news now, I guess."

"Well, we got the estimates from everybody.  They all look good to me, and I approved every single one of 'em.  We're lookin' at about twenty-three to twenty-four total for all construction and outfitting."

"Twenty-four million?!  You add that to the fines, and we're talkin' about..."  Don tried furiously to get his shaking fingers to add everything together on the calculator, but before he could get the first figure put in, Mark laughed.

Fighting back his laughter, Mark barked out, "thirty-one somethin'.  I think the estimates came to twenty-three point six, and the fines are almost seven point six, so about thirty-two point two million."

"Ok, Brainiac.  How we gonna get our hands on thirty-two million dollars?"

"We got it, Don.  The costs of the construction and fitting will get spread over at least a year.  By then, we'll be up and running, makin' barrels of cash.  We have twenty-eight already, plus we're gonna have a twenty million dollar loan.  We'll be golden and completely in the back in no time!"

"Yeah," Don agreed, "but what if we don't get the loan?  We won't even be able to cover material costs when the time comes to start manufacturing again.  Think about that one.  You better hope you get your hands on your dad's money, just in case.  All this stuff might just put this company under.  You want that?  Maybe we better start playin' the lottery right away!" 

Don was a professional worrier, and everyone who knew him knew that fact well.  Mark, on the other hand, was hardly worried at all.  He had great confidence in his and Don's abilities to make the company profitable once more.  Mark's thoughts turned to his beautiful and loving Shylah and the child she now carried in her belly, hopefully, a son to take over the operations and ownership of Crady Steelworks, LLC one day.

Chapter 16

Mark called Shylah to inform her that they would have company that evening, particularly, her family, including her uncle.  Shylah was so pleased with the idea that she could not stop smiling, though a part of her was deeply concerned that she might be unable to hide the news from everyone.  She wanted so badly to let everyone close to her know that even though she had not yet been to the doctor to confirm the test's accuracy, as far as could be told, she would be adding to the King Clan. 

When Mark arrived at home, followed by T.L., he had so much food to carry from his truck that it took him and his friend six trips to get it all.  Food filled both of the tables in the back yard as well as lining the ground immediately surrounding the large, propane grill.  Shylah was called out to help set things up and asked to bring the smaller, charcoal grill from under the overhanging roof near the back door of the house. 

Both of the grills were started right away with stack after stack of meat laid out. 

"Who's gonna eat all that," Shylah balked. 

"Honey," Mark announced, "It's gonna be the three of us plus your daddy and your mama and your uncle and a few other people."

"A few others?  Who?!"

"I invited Don and his family."

"Don Birchum," T.L. adamantly inquired, throwing his hands into the air.  "Hell no!  Heeelll no!"

"T., just trust me.  It's a good thing.  If you wanna be a supervisor at the plant, you gotta learn to get along with Don.  I know what you think of him, but he's not the bad guy you think he is.  He's helpin' us get the plant runnin' again.  Just cuz he's a friend of my dad's don't make him so bad.  Just give him a chance, please, Man.  I told you before that you were gonna have to meet with him for stuff.  You gotta get to know him better.  I think you might even start to like him a little if you try.  At least for me and for Shylah, just try."

"Ok, but there better be beer!  Why didn't we buy beer?!  You got beer, don't ya?"  T.L., fuming as he was, could think only of the liquid refreshment that he was sure would be his only source of tolerance for Don Birchum.

"Don's bringin' beer.  At least, he's supposed to.  I hope he brings it.  You gotta try this beer, Man.  His cousin makes it.  I had some yesterday, and awww, damn, is it some good stuff!  You'll love it!"

"I better.  If he don't bring it or it ain't very good, I'm goin' and buyin' some!"

"T., I never once seen you turn down any beer of any kind," Shylah reminded her brother.

"That is true, Sis.  That is true. I am a beer whore."

Shylah laughed so hard at this ejaculatory remark that she nearly fell, catching herself on the extended counter of the propane grill.

At that moment, Aaron Jones' large, bald head could be seen bobbing toward the back yard.

Shylah, much to Mark's concern, began running toward her uncle.  Mark did not want Shylah to exert herself any more than was absolutely necessary.

"Uncle!  Uncle," Shylah shouted as she neared the spot of Aaron Jones' appearance, rounding the back of the house.

Shylah immediately threw what she could of her arms around the very large man, enwrapping him and hugging herself close to him.  "Uncle Aaron!  How you been?"

"Good, Child.  Good.  How you doin'?  That boy treatin' you good?"

"The best, Unc.  He's the best.  He makes me very happy.  I'm so glad you're here!  Mark told me you were comin', but I almost couldn't believe it!  I hardly ever get to see you!"

The man leaned his large head onto that of his much shorter niece, placing his meaty arms all of the way around the woman's back.  "Love you, Girl.  I'm happy you're happy.  Looks like you gonna have you a big house to live in and somebody to take good care of you.  You made it."

"That don't matter, Unc.  I'm just happy he loves me.  He's a real good man.  I'm happy here."

"Even with that ol' mean ass bigot?"

"Yeah, even with him, but you know what?  He's changed.  Dyin' is doin' somethin' to him."

"Dyin'?"

"You mean you didn't hear?!  Thomas Crady has cancer, has it really bad.  There's nothin' the doctors can do for him.  Mark's about to get everything."

"I guess maybe I shouldn't be speakin' so bad about a dyin' man then.  He still ain't a good man, though.  He's gonna have a lot to answer for where he's goin'!"

"I suppose he will, Unc, but that's none of our concern.  Come on back and say hi.  So far, it's just me, you, Mark, and T."

"T.'s here?  You know that boy don't hardly say word one to me.  I been thinkin' about puttin' a whoopin' on that boy's ass!"

"Do it, Unc!  He needs it," Shylah urged with a blusterous laugh. 

"Maybe I will.  Where the food at?"

"Mark and T. just fired up the grills.  We got two grills goin' and lots and lots of food!  Nothin's cooked yet, though."

"Ribs?"

"Yep, big ones!"

"Burgers?"

"Yep, those, too."  Shylah, while saying this, did not bother to raise her head, still leaning close to her uncle.

"Sounds good.  They got beer?"

"Mark said Don Birchum is bringin' beer.  Mark didn't go buy any cuz of it."

"Birchum?  That fool's gonna be here?  Damn.  I guess if there's gonna be food and beer, though.  I just might have to keep my mouth shut.  I love all ya'all, 'cept for Birchum.  He don't really get on my nerves like he does to yo daddy and yo brotha, but I never liked him a whole lot.  Guess I can tolerate him, though."  Aaron quickly pried away his niece's arms and took her hand, leading one another to where Mark and T.L. were beginning to cook the savory-smelling meats.

Before long, Darius and Pearlina had arrived.  Half of the food had been cooked, but the Birchums had not shown up.  With no beer to appease his guests, Mark was worried that they would begin to grow restless.  Everyone had learned of the hopefully soon-to-arrive guests and made their peace with the news.  The truth of the matter was that Pearlina felt no spite at all toward the Birchums, and Darius held much less dislike for them than did his son and his brother-in-law.

"To hell with this," T.L. exclaimed.  "I'm makin' a beer run!  Daddy, watch this grill for me.  We can't have food and no beer.  I'll be back in a few."

T.L. had no more than gotten into his truck when Don pulled up in his s.u.v., wife and kids in tow.  T.L. jumped from his truck and raced toward the other vehicle, Don not knowing what to expect.  He knew that T.L. held no respect or general like for him. 

"Hey, Don.  Tell me you brought the beer.  Food's almost done."

"Yep.  I brought a lot of it.  That's what took me so long.  I had to convince my cousin to part with so much and had to pay him a pretty penny for it all.  It's in the back, if you wanna help me carry it.  Kids, help your mother carry the food!"

T.L. happily helped himself to an armload of the home-made brews, quickly marching off to the back yard with it. 
When the other men saw what was in T.L.'s arms, they jumped up with excitement and rushed to relieve the man of his stock, each taking a bottle as soon as the load was laid down. 

"Happy now, guys," Mark laughed.

"Yup," came a united front from Darius and Aaron, sitting back down at the table where sat Pearlina.

T.L. hurriedly took the next load from Don and marched back to the s.u.v. for the next load.  The bottles were concealed in makeshift wooden crates, each holding a dozen bottles.  Altogether, Don bought four cases from his cousin.

As soon as all of the loads were discarded, Don walked to where Mark still stood, manning the larger of the two grills.  "Hey, Mark, Buddy.  I got the beer.  I hope it's enough.  Forty-eight bottles.  Had to pay my cousin a hefty sum.  You said you'd reimburse me."

"Yeah, Don.  Not right
now, but after a while.  We'll get it settled.  How much I owe ya?"

"A hundred."

"Alright.  I'll get it after we eat.  Just kick back, and grab yourself one, maybe see if you can get the others talkin'."

"They don't much like me, Mark."

"That's the point, Don.  I want them to like you.  These guys are gonna be supervisin' when we get the plant runnin', and they need to get to know their boss better.  You're gonna be overseein' them.  Get to know 'em.  They're all good people."

Once the food was finished cooking and after several beers apiece, all of the men were easily engaged in rounds of joking, toasting, and general, uproarious clamor.  Peace seemed to have been achieved, and Mark felt such a tremendous relief from it that he sat back, listening and smiling, turning to Shylah, giving her a wink of excitement.  Shylah was happy that Mark was happy and also happy to see her family enjoying themselves so much.  It did her a great deal of good to see her brother, father, mother, and uncle so cheery and pleased.  It seemed that nothing but good could follow.  She hoped that that would be the case and that any future disagreements or squabbles would be easily quashed. 

The three women, upon seeing that their men were ignoring them, engaged one another in casual conversation.  Shylah, not realizing that she was doing it or giving anything away, raised suspicion with the other two, rubbing her stomach.

"Honey," began Betty Jo Birchum, "I know this is none of my business, but the way you're rubbin' yourself right now, I'd have to assume that you are with child.  I'm sorry if I presume too much, but I have gone through plenty of that myself, and sometimes, a woman can just tell when another woman is in that situation."

"You know, I was wonderin' the same thing myself," cried Mrs. King, unsure if she should laugh or cry.  Smiling at her daughter, she added, "Baby, if you are, you can tell me.  I won't say nothin' to your daddy if you ask me not to. But you gotta let me know.  Are you or are you not carryin' a child?"

"Mama, I..."

"You tell me now.  I won't be mad, Honey.  I just need to know.  As your mother, I'm askin' you to please tell me.  We can keep this between us until the time is right."

Learning across the table as best she could, Shylah whispered to both women, "I took a test. It said I am.  I have a doctor's appointment Friday morning.  Mark knows about the test, but I haven't told him about the appointment.  I'm not sayin' I am cuz I haven't seen the doctor yet, but the way I'm feelin', I'd have to say yes."  Turning to face only her mother, Shylah continued, "So, yeah, you are likely to be a grandma very soon, Mama."

Shylah could not ascertain what her mother was thinking or feeling at the moment.  Much like her husband, Pearlina King was excellent at hiding her emotions, displaying only a stoic and contemplative mind.

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think about this?  What do you think about... you know... me havin' a baby?"

"I think... I think it's wonderful, Baby.  Really, I do.  I think you'd make a great mother, and I know Mark loves you to pieces.  You two would be great as parents.  I'm worried, though, what your daddy is gonna say.  I won't say a word.  I promise you that.  But one day soon, you're gonna have to let him know."

"Mama, I'd sooner tell T.L. than tell Daddy.  You know how he gets.  He already tried to stop me and Mark from bein' together.  He'll get mad at me and yell.  I won't put myself through that.  And besides, who knows what he might do to Mark!"

The subject was quickly dropped, the rest of the event proceeding in great merriment and happy co-existence, at least for a good while.  After five beers, Don Birchum began to feel his weighing inebriation.  He could have a few more before becoming completely trashed, but he had already had plenty to make him annoying to most around him.  "Hey, guys, I got an idea," Don shouted at the top of his lungs, standing up from the table, beer held high in the air.  "Let's wet down the women's shirts and rate their tits!  Shylah's aren't the biggest, but they're the nicest!  I think she'd win!  C'mon, Shylah.  Let's see 'em!"

All of the other men, Mark included, contemplated hitting Don or, at least, pushing him back down in his seat.  Before anyone else could do anything, however, Betty Jo rose and performed the act, pushing her husband by the shoulders.  "Sit down!  You're makin' an ass out of yourself!  Mr. King, Mrs. King, Mark, I apologize for my husband's rude behavior.  He gets like this when he's had too many.  It looks like I'll be drivin' home.  Just please don't pay him any attention.  I've seen him much worse than this, believe it or not.  He doesn't mean nothin' by it.  When he's sober, he's a sweetheart, but I'll make sure he remembers this tomorrow, and I will make sure he apologizes for his actions when he's better."

Before anyone knew it, the evening sky started to fade away, everyone bidding their fond adieus as they realized it.  Luckily, Thomas' nurse discovered a baby monitor delivered with the other supplies and set it up so that Thomas could be looked after at all times.  Not one during the festivities of the evening did anyone hear a peep out of the man, but as Don prepared to leave, he decided it best to go say hello to his old friend.

Shylah begged Mark that he follow her uncle home to ensure his safety.  The man seemed to have eaten more than all others combined, consuming ribs, burgers, steaks, hot dogs, cornbread, baked beans, and a good deal many other things, as well as downing a dozen beers by himself.

Shylah and the other women, much as usual for their sex, performed cleanup duties while the men gathered one last time, though it was now only Mark, Darius, and T.L.  Aaron Jones had already gone to his truck to leave, causing Mark to run as fast as he could after him to satisfy Shylah's worries.  Mark surprised himself that his body carried so well, no dizziness presenting itself as he ran.  Aaron Jones swerved his truck from time to time, on occasion, nearly going off of the road, but eventually, he made it safely into his driveway and entered his house.  Mark, much relieved, headed home in hopes of spending alone time with his lady love.

When Mark got back, everyone else was already gone.  The nurse had left many hours before, and all of Shylah's family had already said their goodbyes to their female relative.  The Birchums were the last to leave, Don losing himself in emotion as he witnessed the sad state of Thomas, but after a while of getting no response, other than shallow breathing, Don excused himself and left.

Shylah informed Mark of her impending appointment and of having told her mother and Mrs. Birchum about everything.  Mark worried that Darius might somehow hear of it all and want to do him harm.  It was the last thing that any of them needed. 

Within only so many hours, Mark and Don had a successful meeting with Eli Mitchell and secured their twenty-million dollar loan.  They would very soon have all of the money needed to carry out all of their plans.  The plant would be able to run again and at a much higher level of output.  Jobs could be created, raises placed, and everyone would be happy. 

The thing weighing on both men's minds and on those of a great deal many other's minds was the upcoming wake and funeral of Tim Bedoe.  Everyone dreaded it.  No one wanted to have to say goodbye to the man or to see Mary Jane Bedoe in her horrid state, not to mention her poor, agonized children.

Friday night would mean a very packed Bedoe home, and come Saturday morning, Rensler Funeral Home would be even more packed.  In the meantime, however, Mark needed to find out for sure if he would have a little Crady running around and how to keep the news from Darius King until the moment was right.

When Friday morning arrived, a larger cleanup crew than was present the previous two days showed up at the plant, but Mark could not be there.  Don handled everything as best he could, and much was accomplished in a short time. The only real concern to Mark was getting Shylah to the doctor and hopefully, hearing whether or not they would be parents.

Mark did not know that it would all be more of a waiting game than anything else, unaware that blood would have to be drawn from Shylah and that they would have to wait for hours to find out the results.
  Both potential parents were so anxious that they could not allow themselves to enjoy their time.  Mark sat eagerly holding his phone in his hand while Shylah nervously paced back and forth in the parlor.  Finally, at nearly one-thirty, the call came to inform them that Shylah's doctor would like to have her come back to the clinic for a consultation.