: Chapter 18

Connor was pissed! Why wasn’t she answering the damn intercom? He’d texted her and yelled her name at least 20 times; but she hadn’t responded. What the fuck was her problem? Whatever it was; she’d best get over it. She worked for him. She was supposed to be at his beck and call during business hours. What the hell could she possibly be doing that was more important than getting her work done? They had deadlines to meet. The first book in the trilogy had a launch date of December 1st in both print and ebook format. It would be available for preorder on November 1st. The finished final product had to be in the New York offices by September 15th. So she better get her ass in gear. The book wouldn’t proofread and edit itself.

He stomped down the hall. How dare she ignore him! Connor was in a lather when he rounded the doorway to her office, then stopped short, his eyes widening in concern. ‘Sylvie! What’s wrong?’ She was hunched over her desk, shoulders heaving with each sob. Tears flooding her eyes. Nose sniffing and dripping. ‘Baby, what is it?’ He’d never seen her so upset. She looked grief-stricken. His first thought was that someone close to her had been hurt in an accident or had died?

‘My father,’ Sylvie cried, choking on the words.

‘Oh sweetheart,’ he said gently as he rushed to her side and lifted her into his arms. ‘Did something happen to your Dad?’ He braced himself for another onslaught of tears.

‘He…he…he’s getting married.’ Sylvie sniffled.

Connor was taken aback. Wow! Her reaction to the news seemed to be a bit over the top. ‘Why are you so upset? Didn’t you want him to remarry?’

Sylvie stared at him, looking both baffled and bereft. ‘Of course I want him to remarry!’ she said indignantly, all the while shaking her head no. She was obviously of two minds about the impending nuptials. ‘But just not yet!’

‘I thought you said your Mom died when you were a freshman in high school? That’s over ten years ago. That’s a long time to grieve. Don’t you think he has a right to get on with his life? I’m sure he means no disrespect to your mother’s memory.’ Connor gave her a hug; then, looking around at the chaos that was Sylvie’s office, he pushed some papers aside and sat down on top of the credenza. ‘You obviously have misgivings about the marriage. But why? You can’t want him to be alone for the rest of his life?’

Tears leaked from her eyes. ‘Of course not,’ she explained, her words choked with emotion. ‘I know he’s lonely and I want him to be happy. Truly I do. There isn’t anything I want more. But this isn’t going to work. The marriage will be a disaster. He’ll be miserable. I just know it.’ She paused a moment, drawing in a deep breath; then continued. ‘He’s never even looked at another woman. Not in all the years since my mother died. Let alone dated one! And then out of the blue he calls my sister and tells her he’s getting married next Saturday. None of us know what to think. From what Sara says he’d been acting strangely the last month or so. My brothers and my sister all live fairly close to my Dad. He used to drop by their houses during the week to see the grandchildren; or bring them fresh eggs or vegetables from the garden; or to invite them over to Sunday dinner or for a cookout. Every year on the 4th of July my father takes the ‘men’ in the family: my brothers Matthew, Mark, Luke, and Ben, my brother-in-law Shawn, and now my nephew Jake, fishing for Bass, Northern Pike and Walleye on Silver Lake. It’s a tradition. But this year he said he couldn’t make it. We thought it was strange. But since Ben is on his third tour in Afghanistan and my father is really superstitious we chalked it up to that.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Connor looked puzzled.

‘Three’s a bad omen!’ She raised her eyebrows and put her hands, palms up, out in front of her as if to say ‘Duh!’ She shook her head thinking Connor extremely dense. ‘You know: like walking under a ladder, or breaking a mirror, or Friday the 13th. It’s unlucky!’ From the look on his face, the man still had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Bad things come in threes. Haven’t you ever heard that? This was the third year in a row that Ben couldn’t go on the fishing trip. It’s his third tour of duty in Afghanistan. And he was due home in three weeks. We figured Dad didn’t want to jinx my brother. But we never expected this!’ She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand.

Connor was surprised. ‘You have a brother in Afghanistan? You never said anything.’

‘I figured you already knew.’ How could he not know? Especially since he was so fond of snooping into her business: hacking her emails and eavesdropping on her phone conversations. ‘I’ve been going to the post office every Saturday since I got here to mail him a care package. What did you think I was doing with all the homemade cookies and banana bread I was baking? All the snacks, candies, and disposable razors I was bringing home?’

He shrugged. ‘I guess I just wasn’t paying attention. I thought the packages were work-related.’

What did he think she was doing…returning or exchanging dildos? ‘I didn’t have the money to send him stuff when I lived in the city. All I could afford was a couple of packs of gum, a few candy bars, and a box of cheese crackers every month or so. But now I send him a box a week. Keeps up his morale. Lets him know I’m thinking of him.’ She sighed, her eyes glistening. Ben could be an annoying pain sometimes, in typical big brother fashion; but she missed him like crazy.

‘You’ve got a big family. It’s hard to keep them all straight. I didn’t know one of your brothers was in the military.’

‘They’ve all been in the military, but Ben is making it a career. He’s a Captain in the Marines. So was Matthew; but after three tours in Iraq and two in Afghanistan his wife Kelly gave him an ultimatum. She told him it was either her or the Corps. She was fed up with the endless separations. He was always off training someplace or on deployment so she moved back home to be closer to her family. She’s a nurse practitioner and makes a good salary. Good enough to support a home and take care of their three kids on her own. To her way of thinking, she was already raising the kids pretty much by herself; so becoming a divorced single mother wouldn’t be much of an adjustment. For a while it was touch and go, but in the end Kelly won. He chose her over the Marines. He’s a New York State Trooper now.’

‘So she coerced him into giving up his career?’ he asked in disbelief. Why in hell would a man let a woman control him like that? Her brother Matthew needed to reach down and find his balls.

‘It wasn’t coercion,’ Sylvie told him, rising to her sister-in-law’s defense. ‘For years Matt got his way with everything. His career dictated where they lived. They couldn’t buy a house or set down roots because they never knew where he’d be sent next. He’d be home just long enough to get her pregnant, and then he’d be off again. Kel went through three pregnancies and two miscarriages by herself. There were complications with the last pregnancy. She had preeclampsia and Devon was born six weeks early. It was touch and go there for a while whether or not he’d live. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she got postpartum depression. Most days she was so overwhelmed she could barely function. Trapped in the house. Tied down with three little ones to care for. To make matters even worse, the bases where Matt was stationed were always either in California or the south where the laws are more restrictive with regard to nurse practitioners. So she was never able to get a job and work in her field. She didn’t have much of a life. I can’t blame her for putting her foot down.’

‘Does your brother also hold her blameless? If it was me I certainly wouldn’t be happy with the situation.’

‘He gets it. For ten years she put her life on hold so he could do and live the way he wanted. The weight of those decisions fell on her. She bore the brunt of it. It wasn’t fair.’

He wanted to argue the matter; but he didn’t even know these people so what was the point? ‘Are your other two brothers still in the service?’

‘No, they’re both out now. Mark’s a farmer. He also drills wells and does excavating. And Luke’s a teacher.’

‘Were they Marines too?’

‘Family tradition. Semper Fi and all that. My father was a Marine. My grandfather was a Marine. And his father before him was a Marine. Mark always knew he wanted to be a farmer. He didn’t intend to go to college so he enlisted the summer after he graduated high school. He did his four years and got out a Lance Corporal. The other three went into the Marine ROTC program at SUNY Brockport. It was headquartered at the University of Rochester so they had to go there for special classes and drills. It seemed to be a good deal at the time. They got their educations for free. But I don’t think they really knew what they were getting themselves into. The wars. The constant deployments. The very real chance that they could wind up coming home in a bodybag. Ben and Matt stuck with it, they’re adrenaline junkies; but Luke got out as soon as his commitment was up. He became a teacher. It was gnarly when Mark was still on active duty and they all came home on leave. Matt and Ben pulled rank on him all the time and insisted he salute them. Mark’s no milquetoast. He’s 6′ 4′ and 225 pounds. The other two are a couple of inches shorter and leaner. Mark bided his time until he got his discharge, then he paid them back in spades. Every time they came home after that they either got dumped in the manure pile or thrown in the creek. The man holds a grudge!’

Connor laughed. ‘I take it you and your sister didn’t want to follow the family tradition?’

‘You’re joking…right?’ She grimaced at the very thought. ‘My father would never have allowed it. He’d tell you the Marine Corps builds men…not women! He’s a diehard chauvinist. He doesn’t think women belong in the military. Besides, Sara’s a girly girl. She cries if someone raises their voice to her. And me, well I guess you could say I’m not well suited for a military career. Can you really see me marching around in formation or running an obstacle course? Besides…I don’t like taking orders.’

‘I’m well aware of that!’ he chided. ‘Your family’s rather unique for this day and age isn’t it?’

‘How so?’

‘There aren’t many people that would encourage their children to join the military.’

She stared at him a moment. ‘Maybe not in your social circle. Where I come from it’s not that unusual. I suppose you could say my family is the salt of the earth. They’re patriotic. Believe in God and country, duty and honor. They’re steeped in old-fashioned traditional values. All the stuff sophisticated people think of as corny, quaint and passé.

He hadn’t meant to cast aspersions on her family; but obviously, from the dirty look she was giving him, he had. ‘I never had any siblings. Do you all get along?’

‘For the most part. My brothers rag on poor Shawn for never having been in the military, which pisses Sara off no end. The boys needle each other about ancient history, things that happened years ago. Teasing and taunting one another mercilessly. And they’re constantly sticking their respective noses into the others’ business. Giving unwanted advice on everything from money and child rearing, to home repair and sex. They’re loud, opinionated, and infuriatingly annoying at times. But I’m stuck with them and wouldn’t have it any other way.’

‘How do they feel about your Dad getting married? Are they as opposed to it as you are?’

‘They’re all in shock. They’ve only been dating for a month. But I guess the boys are OK with it. They want him to be happy. He certainly deserves it.’

‘Sounds like a whirlwind courtship all right. But your father’s no spring chicken Sylvie. I’m sure he wouldn’t rush into something if he wasn’t sure.’

‘You don’t even know my father!’ she snapped. ‘This is so unlike him. He and my mother were childhood sweethearts. They went together all through high school and were engaged for the 4 years he was in the Marines. He’s not one to jump into anything. He doesn’t make rash decisions. It took him two years to make up his mind to put in a manure digester!’

‘A manure digester?’ he looked at her incredulously. ‘What the hell is that and why would anyone want one?’

‘You really are a city-boy aren’t you?’ she said disdainfully. ‘My Dad owns a dairy farm with 300 cows. Every day each of those cows produces nearly 80 pounds of manure. Multiply that by 300. Then imagine how much manure that comes to every month, every year. Veritable mountains of cow poo as far as the eye can see. With the digester, raw manure goes in and liquid and dry fertilizer come out along with methane gas to power the generators that make the electricity that powers the farm. You wouldn’t believe how much better the place smells now. We needed the digester and still it took him a couple of years to come to a decision about putting one in. Then he dates a woman a couple of weeks and jumps into marriage? It doesn’t make sense! My father’s not spontaneous…he’s a conservative Republican for God’s sake! They don’t do things like this! It’s completely out of character for him.’

‘You said your brother’s were OK with it. What about your sister?’

‘Sara’s in her glory. They were going to elope. You know: get married quietly and then tell us all after the fact. The only reason Sara found out was because he asked her if she would feed the cats for a couple of days and gave her an emergency number where he could be reached. She recognized the number as Aunt Tizzy’s house and badgered him until he told her about the wedding. Sara was appalled by his plans. First that he’d get married without inviting his children and everyone else he knows to the ceremony. And second that he wanted to honeymoon at Aunt Tizzy’s. He didn’t want a fuss. He wanted it quiet and low key. That didn’t set right with Sara. She decided that someone needed to step in and take over the job of planning the wedding. Sara nominated herself and has assumed the role of wedding planner Nazi, dictating to the rest of us what our duties and responsibilities are. She has it all figured out. She’s planning this big, elegant wedding…’

‘That’s only six days from now,’ he said skeptically. ‘That doesn’t seem possible.’

‘You don’t know my sister. She’ll pull it off. She convinced them to get married under a willow tree on the banks of the creek that runs through our property. There’s a meadow with wildflowers there that’s very pretty this time of year. She’s borrowing the tables, chairs, and tents from our church and is getting the table linens and china from the local Elk’s Club. She made arrangements with two ladies’ church groups to make salads, deviled eggs and a couple of pasta dishes and she’s hired a barbecue company to roast a pig and grill steaks and chicken. And somebody she knows is making them either a wedding cake or wedding cupcakes. I’m not sure which. She was talking so fast I couldn’t understand her. She says it will be so… romantic. Romantic my foot,’ Sylvie said, her voice rising. ‘I told her it was a bad idea, a very bad idea!’

‘Why? It sounds like she has it all covered. What’s wrong with it?’

Sylvie glared at him like he was a blithering idiot. ‘What’s wrong with it? Let me tell you what’s wrong with it. We keep cows in the field adjoining the meadow. Last time I was home there were cow pies all over the place. It reeked of dung. Hardly romantic if the wind’s blowing the wrong way! Sara’s got this notion to mow a big square in the middle of the meadow for the tent, tables, and grills. That’s all well and good, but even if she cuts the grass short there will still be ticks in it. And that section of the property is infested with mosquitoes, horseflies, and gnats. If the wind isn’t blowing you get eaten alive! And she keeps forgetting we have twelve little kids in the family, all but one walking. The stream isn’t fenced off and it’s deep, one of them could fall in and drown! I’m telling you this whole thing is going to be a damn disaster! The wedding! The marriage!’ She slumped down in her chair and began to cry again.

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ he said, reaching over to pat her shoulder and reassure her.

‘No it won’t! What am I going to do? How do I stop him? He’s making a mistake, a terrible mistake! The worst mistake of his life! He’ll be devastated; heartbroken when she leaves him, when it ends! I don’t want him hurt!’

‘Sylvie, your father’s a grown man. It’s not your place to stop him. He has the right to decide whom he marries.’

‘You’re such a hypocrite!’ she accused. ‘You don’t feel that way when it comes to your aunt.’

Miffed, he puffed out a breath. Should he bite? No. She was upset. Better to let it pass and not rise to the bait. ‘Why are you assuming the worst? What makes you think she’ll leave him?’

‘She isn’t right for him. It won’t work. It just won’t work!’ She sobbed as she buried her head in her hands.

‘You don’t know that Sylvie. You can’t make judgements about whether or not they’ll be happy when you don’t even know the woman. Maybe she’s perfect for him!’

‘No she’s not!’ she said emphatically, eyes flooding with tears.

‘Do you know her?’

‘Yes. I know her very well. Her name’s Leona Kimmel. She was my high school English teacher.’

‘I take it you didn’t like her very much.’

‘Oh no, not at all!’ she said, shaking her head vehemently and raising her eyes to look at him. ‘I loved her. She was very kind to me, especially when my Mom died. She’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever known.’

He looked at her in utter confusion. ‘That makes absolutely no sense Sylvie. If you like her so much and if she’s such a nice, caring person, why don’t you want your Dad to marry her? Is she a gay divorcee who’s been married a half dozen times? Or a black widow whose husbands keep turning up dead? Is she an adulteress who’s likely to cuckold her next husband too? Or is she a femme fatale that collects men like some women collect shoes, only to discard them when they pass out of fashion?’ He scratched his head and quirked his lips, looking perplexed. ‘Let’s see, what other reason could you have? Is she a scheming gold digger? A ball-busting harpy?’

‘No. No. She’s nothing like that!’ she responded, her voice rising. ‘She’s a very good person. She’s sweet, understanding, gentle, caring. Miss Kimmel is a spinster. She’s never been married. Her mother had dementia and her father had MS. She refused to put them in a nursing home and cared for them until they passed away.’

‘OK, let me get this straight,’ he said, trying to process all that she was saying. ‘This woman, whom your father wants to marry, has all the attributes which would make her a good wife. She’s sweet-natured, generous, kind, and caring…a genuinely good person. Is that true?’

Sylvie nodded.

‘She’s unselfish, putting the needs of those she loves, particularly her parents, ahead of her own. She’s both loyal and devoted. Agreed?’

Sylvie nodded again, puzzled at where he was going with this.

‘Not at all the type who’d be unfaithful to her husband. It sounds to me like she’s bucking for sainthood. So why are you so averse to the idea of their marrying? Were there a lot of men in her past? Is that why you’re wary?’

‘Not at all!’ she refuted, shaking her head, indicating that he was totally, absolutely, and unequivocally wrong.

Connor rolled his eyes, utterly exasperated with Sylvie. She was being deliberately evasive and confusing and it was driving him crazy. He’d half a mind to paddle her ass.

‘I don’t think she ever had a boyfriend that I knew of. It wasn’t that she was a complete stay-at-home. She went out, but I don’t think she dated. She attended school plays, games, and concerts and chaperoned the dances. I remember that she especially liked going to chamber music programs at nearby colleges. But I can’t remember ever seeing her with a man.’

‘I’m not understanding any of this, Sylvie. Nothing you’ve told me should disqualify this woman from marrying your father. If fact, the exact opposite is true. So tell me, why is it exactly that you object to her?’ He cocked his eyebrow and waited for an answer. ‘Because…?‘ he prompted.

She dropped her gaze to the floor. Her mouth was moving, but no sound came out. Her bottom lip was wobbling.

‘Because…?’ he repeated, about to lose his patience.

She took a deep breath then lifted her eyes to meet his. ‘They have absolutely nothing in common! She loves the symphony and classical music. He likes country. She adores ballet. She goes to the New York City Ballet every year. I know because she’d always come and meet me for lunch. Once she even treated me to a performance. My father, on the other hand, wouldn’t go to the ballet if his life depended on it. He thinks it’s for sissies. He prefers square dancing. She enjoys live theater and goes to art movies. He spends his evenings watching TV. She reads Jane Austin, the Brontes, T.S. Eliot, Dostoyevsky, James Joyce, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tolstoy, Hemingway, Faulkner, and Shakespeare. She’s read The Iliad, The Odyssey, The Aeneid, and Beowulf. She can discuss Ovid, Dante, Milton, and Chaucer. She quotes the poetry of Coleridge, Wordsworth, Byron, Shelley, Keats, and Pope. She subscribes to ten different literary magazines. The only things my father ever reads are American Dairymen and Farming Magazine. She’s been to London, Paris, and Rome. She’s traveled to Spain, Greece, Germany, Ireland, and Scotland. Pretty much half the countries in Europe.’ Her voice was rising in pitch, her body trembling. ‘She’s seen the Sistine Chapel, the Eiffel Tower, and Buckingham Palace. She even went to China and saw the Great Wall. My father has never been anywhere! The one and only time he’s ever been out of the country was when he took my mother to the old Crystal Beach Amusement Park, less than an hour away, just over the border in Canada. He doesn’t even own a passport. He hardly ever leaves Wyoming County. I don’t think he’s ever even been to New York City. The closest he ever got was Aunt Tizzy’s, and that’s more than a hundred miles north of the city. Miss Kimmel is a cultured person. She’s classy, refined. My father stomps around in dirty overalls with his boots covered in cow shit all day. She’s the type of woman who attends afternoon teas. His big social event of the year is the annual Grange dinner dance. How do you see this working out?’

He stared at her in stunned disbelief. He finally understood. ‘My God! You don’t think your father’s good enough for her!’

‘That’s not true!’ she turned on him in a rage.

‘It sure as hell seems that way to me.’

‘Well you’re wrong!’ she barked, glaring at him. ‘My father’s a good man. He’s hardworking, kind, and generous. He was a wonderful husband to my mother, and he’ll make an incredible husband for someone else…just not Miss Kimmel!’ she insisted through tightly clenched teeth. ‘It’s not a good match. They’re ill-suited to one another.’

‘And this is your decision to make…why?’ he scoffed.

‘He’s my father! I want what’s best for him!’ she declared, casting a withering glare in his direction.

‘And he doesn’t? You’re not even capable of making decisions about your own life,’ he countered, ‘let alone someone else’s. Let the man be!’

‘Butt out city-boy! This is none of your concern,’ she snarled, fighting the urge to pick up one of the dildos and slam him over the head with it. ‘Mind your own fucking business!’

‘That does it!’ he announced, his jaw clenched, face rigid. Before she knew what was happening, he’d jerked her out of the chair, spun her around, and commenced smacking her behind. ‘Settle down,’ he ordered as his hand repeatedly stung her bottom. ‘You’re…behavior…and…language…is …absolutely…atrocious!’ He punctuated each word with a resounding crack to her ass.

‘Ow! Ow! Stop that! Stop! It hurts!’ she howled.

‘That’s the idea little girl. Are you ready to listen to reason yet?’

Bastard! She buckled her knees ready to drop to the floor, making it more difficult for him to strike his target. But he held fast to her arm and wouldn’t let go.

‘I didn’t hear an answer.’ He wielded his hand like a paddle and unleashed a barrage of smacks to her already painful hindquarters. ‘Well?’ he asked.

She stubbornly kept her silence, but began to hop from foot to foot in an attempt to ease the fire burning beneath her panties.

‘All right. Have it your way. I can keep this up all day if I have to.’

Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t hold out any longer. Her ass was throbbing. ‘Yes!’ she yelped, hoping the punishment would end; but he wasn’t about to let her off that easy.

‘Yes what?’ he demanded, giving her two more painful swats.

‘Yes sir!’ she responded.

‘So you’re ready to listen now?’ he asked sternly.

She nodded meekly. Relieved he’d stopped spanking.

‘You want your Dad to be happy don’t you?’ He pulled her close, resting his hands on her shoulders.

She nodded again as a torrent of tears descended from her eyes.

‘He obviously thinks he and Miss Kimmel can make a life together. Give the man some credit for brains. What is he, almost 60?’

‘Yes,’ she sniffled.

‘Then he’s old enough to know his own mind Sylvie, without any help from you. This is what he wants. Can’t you just be happy for him?’

‘But…’ Before she could get the next word out of her mouth, he brought a finger to her lips silencing her.

‘No buts, Sylvie,’ he admonished. ‘You father’s a grown man. He has the right to marry whomever he pleases. You have no say in the matter. Your Dad’s been a widower a long time. She’s never married. I doubt that this was a step either of them took lightly. They’ve made their decision: they want to spend the rest of their lives together. You need to accept that fact and get with the program. Nothing is certain in life. It’s all a crapshoot. Yes, they might wind up getting a divorce somewhere down the road; then again, maybe not. You have to give their relationship a chance. Stop second-guessing them. Hopefully, your Dad will learn to love ballet and she’ll develop an affinity for milking cows and they’ll live happily ever after. So wish them well and give them your blessing.’

She nodded her head in resignation.

‘Have you called to congratulate them yet?’

‘No. I didn’t know what to say to him.’

‘It’s a no-brainer, Sylvie. Just tell him you love him and that you’re happy for him. And whatever you do, try to sound like you really mean it! Then call Miss Kimmel and welcome her to the family.’

‘I’ll do it later. I have a lot of work to…’

‘Now Sylvie!’ he ordered. ‘There’s no time like the present. Go splash some cold water on your face and then make the calls. The sooner you do it, the better you’ll feel.’