"Harvard Comes To Montana - Chapter Thirty-Seven
by Griz
umgriz@protonmail.com
Okay, Boys;
You know how this works.....feast or famine. For whatever reason, after I sent 36 to Nifty, 37 raced from the back of my mind to the front, and I've been its beast of burden ever since, transcribing `The Voices' as quickly as they speak to me. It's kinda funny; there was something in real life that inspired something in 36, and that inspired a real-life memory that made its way into 37. If there's anything that inspires this story, it's my memories of life on my farm.
That's not entirely true in and of itself; I am also inspired by you guys. Truly, I am grateful to you for reading, and for writing to tell me your thoughts. I've received dozens of emails since 36 published, and I want to tell you: message received. No Patreon. My ship will stay its course.
That's not to say I can't use (or need) a little extra money, but I know the perfect busy street corner to sell my Polish ass on. There is no comparison between that and what I could make on Patreon; I am almost guaranteed to make tens of cents on the corner!
Anyway----it was just an idea, the subscription thing. All of you have created a community for me, and I can't risk my own happiness and sense of accomplishment by losing any of you. So, without further a doo-doo, here's 37.
Have a great Saturday and Sunday, whatever you're doing. If you have some free time, log on and watch some police department cameras. I don't think they'll arrest me for attempting to engage in the world's oldest profession, if only because I'm the world's oldest professional man whore.
Thank you for reading, thank you for writing, and thank you for just being you.
*** The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further.
All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html ***
Through dinner----which was the best spaghetti Bolognese with meatballs I've ever had----Marc and I talked more, but kept the conversation lighter than the calories we consumed. No more about his experiences battling for his young life, and nothing about his recent offer from his agent and publisher, nor from documentarian Ken Burns (for whatever reason, that actually excited me more than anything else he said about it). Over the course of forty-five minutes and--for me--six big meatballs nestled high on a plate of pasta and sauce, we discussed Eva's new buildings on their way. They were almost free, but would be disassembled and relocated at a bigger expense, I was sure. Marc was happy to hear the name for the pizza location. He had heard of the crop circle conspiracy theories in the local lore. Sound familiar, Marc? Deep in the dark of night, some other-worldly creature shows up in the country, surprising a farm boy and holding him smitten and captivated ever since? A story as old as time.....
We cleaned up after dinner, choosing side-by-side action of washing and rinsing, and then both employing towels to dry everything and park it where it belonged. Of course, where was plenty of in-front-and-from-behind canoodling, too. The kitchen was returned to its impeccable and Mrs Taylor-approved condition. My favorite part of it all: watching two containers of leftovers find residence in the fridge. Temporary residence, since my appetite for leftover Italian food is stronger than my willpower to allow them to get through the night unadulterated.
Our walk was at a nice point in the evening. The Sun was behind us at 7:00PM, and the faint breeze I knew on the farm was in town, closing out the day for us there, as well. It had been a good day, and the walk around the old sandstone hospital was a good way to settle dinner. Although Marc and I joked about some public lovin' while out on our walk, that wasn't seriously on our agenda. Just walking together was public enough. I saw a smaller person and three dogs on leashes on the ancient sidewalk, coming in our direction. As we got closer, I looked to see if I recognized her. I did not, but saw an energetic Senior smiling and waving. She moved right up and stopped in front of Marc.
"YOU'RE THAT WONDERFUL MAN FROM THE FAIR!!"
Before he could respond, she threw her arms around him and held on tightly while her dogs sniffed the ground around us, trying to sense other dogs, I supposed. I stepped back from Marc and his admirer, since he and I were fairly close while walking together. It also gave me an opportunity to meet the dogs, and I was happy they seemed to have a mutual interest in me. I love dogs.
"I was sitting on a bench only a dozen feet away when that.....that BEAST attacked that girl! I swear, you finished the job of setting him straight before anyone else could get started!"
"Hi.....I'm Marc Taylor. Yeah, that was some night, wasn't it?"
"`SOME NIGHT', he says! I'll say! That was better than my pay-per-view cage fights! You fucked that little bitch right up and put him right down! SO EXCITING!"
I snorted and laughed as loud as I ever had, enjoying the improbable juxtaposition of a sweet, little, rural old lady talking like an urban college football player in the locker room after winning the championship game. Marc was all smiles and all red, happy that he wasn't confronted with suspicion about `not being from around these parts', but a little embarrassed because of his notoriety. He returned her hug (but with less crushing intent) and asked who he was meeting.
"I'm Dora! Dora Plumb! And these are my dogs, Patty, Maxine and Laverne!"
"Wait---you named your dogs after the Andrews Sisters??"
"I sure did!"
"Those are the same names of my three house plants back in Massachusetts. Nice coincidence, and it's even nicer to meet you, Ma'am."
"MA'AM', he says! Just call me Dora! Everyone does----except my doctor. She calls me Missy Pain-In-The-Ass'. She's the second doctor I've outlived! And who is THIS handsome young man with you?"
Dora Plumb---by now behaving like an old friend, and not at all old---turned her death-grip hug attention on my sorry carcass.
"Oh, my.....you're both so.....strong and virile!"
(You don't know the half of it, Dora.....)
We laughed and I introduced myself. She laughed heartily and smacked my chest a couple of times.
"I knew your grandpa! And HIS grandpa! When I was a little girl, maybe five or six years old, I remember being at the Shrine Circus, and four generations of Wojtowicz boys were called out to come to the center ring, just to show off a long-time family, I guess! So your great-great-great grandfather----do I have that right----was over one hundred years old! I remember the circus man saying, `Folks, here are four generations of men in the same family! 100, 80, 60 and 40, and gosh, it looks like at least a dozen more between them all! May they have at least another four generations!' The crowd clapped and cheered, and I'll be danged if that 100 year old man just scooted across the dirt with his boys, keeping up and smiling and waving. What is in your water out there?!"
I smiled, thinking of my conversation with Tommy about The Gay' being in the water in Cottonwood Creek, but I didn't exactly share that anecdote with Dora. Her memory of my family, though.....that was music to my ears. Someone I'd never met (and I don't know how that was possible) knew us and of us. Immigrants from Wojtow, Poland, came to Fergus County and built a farm, a family and a reputation that endures. I was so proud. I knew Dad wasn't born at that point; Grandpa (Dziadek') Stansilaw, my namesake, was 41 when Dad was born. Maybe Dad was there, actually; in the stands, in the grandmother. Regardless, my family were known; not only for growing many crops, but many kids. Though four ages were mentioned, oldest to youngest, I knew there were potentially twenty men in total standing before a crowded grandstand.
And that was just the men! If the women had been out there, too? They'd have come close to outnumbering the folks in the bleachers lookin' at em all. That made me wonder, but not too much, why the women weren't there. I suppose it was that whole traditional wife and kids are chattel property' attitude of earlier days in Fergus County. I knew for certain that if Dad were still here, if we were being pulled out on exhibition like that, he'd have gone nowhere without Mom. Who did everyone think brought each additional generation forward, anyway? I'm pretty sure the stories about the stork and the cabbage patch were just stories.....I knew where kids came from, and it wasn't just from the papa.
"Dora, that's amazing. I did not know about that event. I wonder if my dad did. I wish I could've seen that."
"Well, if you had, I guess that'd be six generations in the center ring, and quite an accomplishment at that! I would not be surprised if my own grandfather took a photo of that moment; he had a studio in town, and had several cameras."
"Oh? Did he shoot a lot of things?"
"`A lot of things', he says! He exposed so much film, Kodak was ready to name an entire building after him! Well, not REALLY, but he was prolific with a camera. You know, I'll have to look.....I have spent many years cataloging his work. I know my age then, so I know the year of that circus. I remember because my mother had my newly-born baby brother in her arms. I was sure everyone would rather look at my little brother than some silly, old elephant! Anyway, when I get home, I'll look. Why don't you give me your phone number, and I'll send you a text if I find something?"
I was nearly salivating at the thought of a photo of my family in that moment. Marc was smiling, too. Photographs are, if nothing else, the capture of a moment in Time, history that can't be denied anyone who has eyes to see. The three of us talked more, and both Marc and I were relieved that Dora had moved on from Friday night at the fair. Well, until she moved back to it, anyway.
"I hope that jackass is still in jail! I hope he never sees a moment outside of prison walls again, actually! I was at his arraignment, too. I had my taser ready, just in case that fucker got loose! Amy threw not just one book, but an entire law library at him. Used to babysit her when she was a girl and I was in high school. I guess that'll tell you I have some years behind me: ninety of `em! Anyway, I hope that girl is okay."
We all hoped that. Junior's attack on Eva wasn't his first, but I hoped it would be his last. On anyone. Well, we were back on the subject, but we could get back off of it fast, too.
"Oh, look at the time.....Marc, we have to get moving if we're gonna get that one thing done tonight."
"Oh, you're right; I was enjoying the conversation so much with Dora, time got away from me. Dora, thank you; this was a nice thing to happen while on a walk in the evening."
"You boys made my day! I ran into a superhero and a name older than the county! Can't wait to tell this to my friends in our weekly knitting party! `Stitch and Bitch' women never have much new to share, but I'll have all the spotlight next Wednesday! They'll all be so jealous!"
We laughed and hugged one last time, and continued on our separate ways. Marc and I smiled at each other, but didn't get maybe fifty feet until we heard Dora's voice calling out to us.
"WAIT! You're also that guy who told the school board to take a hike! Oh, MY GOD! We're not gonna get one stitch on our needles next Wednesday!!!"
She laughed and waved again, and we returned in kind. Oh, geez.....what a Summer.
We walked around the building that was the maternity ward of the hospital, its own two-story structure with a nursery on an entire floor. In the early 20th Century, babies were coming by the truckload, and there were two doctors on staff just for maternal care. I don't think the term `pediatrician' had been uttered once in the 1920s, but Lewistown had a team of doctors and nurses who did all they could to bring babies into the world and keep them there safely, years before vaccines and preventative medicine could allay the fears of measles, mumps, rubella, polio and others.
I was one of the last kids born in that building, before the nuns decided they could not keep pace with Big Medicine, Big Pharma and Big Insurance. They sold the building, and five years later, a developer bought the entire campus of five buildings and turned it into condominiums. Not far from the door to the main building's emergency and ambulance entrance was the nun's grotto, a sheltered and lilac-surrounded sanctuary for prayer and reflection. Although the effigy of The Madonna had been removed and taken back to France where the sisters' original convent, The Order Of The Daughters Of Jesus, was located, but the benches and grotto remained. Marc and I sat, fortunately away from further foul-mouthed but well-intentioned dog walkers.
"Babe, that was.....interesting. I'm hoping I can just fade away into the background here, sooner than later."
"Heh.....good luck with that. You heard Dora; she saw you, and she'll discuss you with many others. She wasn't the only one at the fairgrounds; there had to have been at least fifty people there, watching you spank Junior. Even more were at the school board interview and meeting. Speaking of `circuses'.....Junior's arraignment, your interview.....big doings in Fergus County! Don't let anyone tell you nothing happens here."
"I think too many people can tell me and each other exactly what DOES happen here."
"Soooo.....just go with me on this, Marc.....is this `too much' for you? People here all know each other, or what goes on here. Is this going to influence your decision about lecturing and teaching during a year?"
Marc was silent, and looked in the distance before speaking. He then looked at me and reached to touch my shoulder.
"If you weren't here, I wouldn't care one whit about any of this. But you are here. What affects me has to, in some way, affect you by association. That concerns me. My notoriety shouldn't have to involve you, but it can. It already has; Dora won't just be talking about me next Wednesday. But as regards things like this making me not want to be here? No, those moments were just moments. They don't define me. Well, at least not negatively. I don't run from people, whether they're friends or foes. Trust me; after teaching college freshmen for seven years, you lose your fear of people. Your only fear is boring them----or yourself."
I looked around, even though I felt confident we were in a private moment from the rest of the world. Seeing no one, I leaned forward and whispered in Marc's ear.
"I love you. So goddamned much. Dora said you are a superhero. That's a lot to hang on a man, but she said that honestly. To me, though.....you're my man, who just so happens to have some extraordinary abilities. Oh, not the least of which is making the perfect spaghetti dinner. It---and you---are perfect, Marc."
He didn't say anything, but he looked at me with what I chose to interpret as love in his eyes, and nudged my shoulder with his own. In that moment, at that grotto, on that walk, during that Summer, we silently enjoyed each other's presence and company. There was an assurance we offered each other, I think; love, support, and tenacious respect. He could go, I could stay, but we wouldn't be apart from each other, really. Maybe only physically, and maybe only for a few months out of each year of our still-young lives. Lots of conversations between Marc and the others who need and want him. Oh---and lots of conversations between Marc, his agent, college dean and his publisher, too.
We sat in quiet contemplation like the hundreds of members of a religious community who sat there before us. What were we doing? What brought us fulfillment? How were we useful to others? Eventually, the Sun dipped below the peaks of the Big Belt mountain range, and the temperature of the evening air went along with it. I think (or was ready to convince myself and Marc) that a bowl of Spumoni had my name on it, and who am I to deny myself a well-deserved treat for cleaning my plate perfectly? It was a chore to eat six huge, juicy meatballs, you know; but really, I was obligated. There was the fridge to think about. I didn't want to crowd its interior, or make the compressor-condenser work overtime. So really, eating those meatballs and everything else was an act of kindness and mercy on the Frigidaire. Sigh.....what can I say? I'm a giver.
We wandered back home, taking a different route yet again, but which took us further North than necessary. I showed Marc the location of another hospital in Lewistown, long since gone. Over the years, Lewistown had five hospitals. Only two had surgical facilities. One was recuperative, and the other two were not physician-attended. There were nurses or the not-quite-so-well-trained midwives, what would today be known as a certified nurse's assistant, or CNA. They might also be where the very old or infirm would go, if they had a terminal illness or could just not care for themselves.
As with all five hospitals, though: money up front, or be ready to sign away the deed to your property to cover the costs of your care. A house in 1901 in Lewistown could be built for $5,000.00 (and a fairly nice and large house, at that), or bought for $500.00. A hospital ledger where I was born indicated that a hospital delivery in 1925 cost $20.00, with overnight stay for mother and baby, including food, at $2.00 per night. Only people with $20.00 had babies in hospitals. People with zero dollars gave birth in the home and hoped for the best. A doctor may or may not attend, and if he did, it had better be seriously serious. The only time a doctor did not charge for a home delivery: a stillbirth, and/or if the mother died.
On that cheery thought.....we arrived home (home!) and (shall we say) attended the porcelain facilities, cleaned up and scooped up ridiculously full bowls of ice cream. I grabbed my iPad and we walked back to the love seat in the library/den/study/office. Once comfy, I connected to the wifi network and searched for early Central Montana photographers, and found Dora's grandfather and about twenty pages of photographs he'd captured. Nothing was surprising, but there were some rural photos with names I didn't know. It's possible they were in surrounding counties, but wherever they were, it's possible they didn't survive the major drought that lasted five years after the turn of the century, or the 1918 flu, or the first world war, or the Great Depression, or just a lack of kids to continue with the farm.
After `ooh-ing and ah-ing' over the photos, we finished the ice cream and listened to some Artie Shaw and Fats Waller. The day was ending nicely, and on the strike of 9:00PM, I smiled at my man and told him I had to be awake and moving at 4:30AM. Marc nodded, and we stood, cleaned up the ice cream bowls and spoons, and got ready for bed. I made myself ready earlier for Marc to give me whatever he wanted (and however he wanted to give it, and the number of times he would bestow his dick in and generously on me). But on opposite sides of the bed, we yawned at the same time. Well, we'd have another time.....and another.....you get it (and I would get it, too.....).
We weren't too tired to move to the center of the bed and find each other waiting there, ready to drift off while holding each other. Marc's head found its natural place of comfortable rest on my chest, and my hand found its treasure of the perfect round, soft-yet-hard, furry ass to keep safe and secure (at least for a minute or two).
"Night, Babe."
"Sweet Dreams, Superhero."
Giggle
I don't remember what I dreamed that night; only that as my watch buzzed my wrist, Marc's buzzed his, and we were awake and stretching. We were joined by our two closest buddies, also stretching. At least they waited to be awake before they drooled, but oh, yeah; they did that. I threw the sheet back and got between Marc's legs. He propped himself up on his elbows and smiled in my direction.
"I can make breakfast for both of us.....in the kitchen.....if you're that hungry!"
"You can't make THIS breakfast.....well, you CAN, but this way, I get to help."
I licked from the base to the tip, the very tip, where more drool awaited me. Oh, yeah. With only the barest of efforts, I moved my mouth back down, from tip to base, fully engulfing my man's erection. I realize it wasn't necessarily a sexy nature that woke him up hard, but I'll be danged if I'm not going to take advantage of his priapic state to keep him hard in that same sexy nature. Marc didn't seem to resist, and I chose to believe that his hands on the back of my head weren't an effort to stop me from my exemplary pursuit of exceptional penis expectorant. It was fast, it was efficient, it was delicious and it was not reciprocated. I really needed to get back to the farm, and despite Marc's insistence that I stay for my own Pre-Dawn Delight, I begged off with a kiss on his forehead and asking for a rain check. We both dressed, and he saw me to the front door.
"Going back to bed?"
"No. The people I need to talk with are at 7:30AM. I plan on being on the phone with them at 8:00AM, whether they plan on talking with me or not. Going after more information, and to get them to send it in writing. Even though we're just talking at present, I want their documentation. That's what I'll have for reference in case anything changes---assuming anything will get that far. I'll have my own notes, too. Getting both sides never hurt anyone."
"Marc, I'm keeping an open mind about this possibility on your horizon. I hope you will, too. Just please stay in communication with me about it. Also when you think you'd like Round Two of what you got in Round One. That was only a wake-up snack. I still want the full meal."
"The farm tonight?"
"The farm tonight. Don't forget my Aunt Patty is in town, and we're having a big meet-and-greet this evening. Come for dinner, stay for Farm Boy Dessert!"
"I sure will.....but....."
"I know what you're gonna say. Don't worry about it, or try not to. Patty knows all about me, and I'm sure she knows you exist----though not from me. Yet. I'll introduce you to her as my boyfriend."
"I'll follow your lead, but I have my concerns....."
"I get that. She does seem kinda remote and removed from Farm and Team W."
"Well, what can I bring?"
"Seriously? If you really want to, bring Patty some of those leftovers from last night. She'll take one bite and proclaim you a superhero, too. Damn, that was good! But no, seriously, bring nothing. And come early, if you want or can. I'll keep you busy."
"Hayloft? Finally?"
"If you don't mind Barni the Barn Owl watching us, though she should be out looking for dinner or finding a mate."
"Hmmm.....raptors near naked men.....what could go wrong?"
"Well.....if she's ovulating, she might see that hairy ass of yours and try to build a nest in it....."
"I like how your tongue tries to create a nest in it. You know.....and I will repeat ad nauseam.....there's more than only your tongue welcome there.....I think. I've seen your `more than only your tongue'."
"Ah, Paco.....we team very well together. I promise you nothing but the best, happy memories of the agonizing pain you'll experience."
"Holy fuck! How did your Freshman year fuck buddy manage you?!"
"Well, she and I were only thirteen and fourteen years old.....I was.....smaller then."
"What, like eight inches?"
"Well, yeah.....when soft....."
"Please tell me you're joking!"
"I am. I was only three inches soft....."
"WHEW! That's better!"
".....but that was wide enough for her....."
"HAHAHAHA!!! Oh, my god!"
"Well, right now, I need to drive back to my other home. Maybe tonight I can take you out `driving'....."
Marc laughed and nodded, and gave me a quick kiss before opening the door. I walked out, turned and waved from my truck, and headed back for Main Street. We had covered a lot last evening, and as I was learning about Marc, there's no end to covering things. He had more to say about his childhood traumas, but he didn't beat them into people over and over. I appreciated that he answered when I asked, but I was---and remained---prepared for him to decline further conversation. It's not like he could just so happen to compare notes with any other boy who'd had the same experiences. And truly, I hoped there were no other boys with the same experiences. One boy was one too many, despite Marc having matured as carefully and comfortably as possible with two diseases for which there is no real cure.
I drove up Main Street Hill, seeing no one on the road in either direction. If it were Winter and fresh snow on the ground, you may wager confidently that I'd be accelerating, slamming on the brakes, spinning my own version of crop circles in intersections. We all did it, when there wasn't other traffic.
Dan caught me one time, specifically because Highway 200 IS Main Street in Lewistown. I got the whole treatment, including red and blue lights, me sweating with some fear that maybe, this time, I might actually be busted (because Dan has to protect and serve, and some of that service is a ticket for reckless driving). He stayed behind the wheel of his cruiser for several minutes, and being young and inexperienced in felonious activity, I made a crucial mistake: I opened the door of my truck and stepped out. Dan's PA speaker screeched at me, and loudly.
"PLEASE STAY IN YOUR VEHICLE, SIR."
Holy crap. Dan sounded serious. Anyone within a three miles radius would think he sounded serious. I'd only got my full license; what a way to fuck up at the age of fifteen, spinning doughnuts in the middle of the intersection at 5th Ave South and Main Street. Finally, Dan stepped out of his cruiser and approached the side of my truck. I could see him in the mirror. It was some ridiculous hour like 3:00AM, I was not home on the farm, and had no business doing what I was doing. Dan was wearing his standard-issue aviator sunglasses---in the dark---which made him look menacing; even to me, his ersatz little brother. I rolled my window down, but left the motor running because it was cold that morning. Really cold. Like hovering around 0º (did you know that 0º is the same in both Fahrenheit as well as Metric?).
"Do you know why I pulled you over, Sir?"
"Um, I think so, Dan."
"Officer Gremaux. Why did I pull you over? Hand me your license and registration and insurance card, please."
I assembled the requested documentation and answered Officer Gremaux at the same time.
"I was using the newly-fallen snow for a science experiment, Officer Gremaux."
"Were you now. Explain."
"Well, it's Newton's Second Law: F = ma. Force equals mass times acceleration. See, it's all about centripetal force; I created a linear velocity by way of internal combustion horsepower and torque applied to the rear wheels, accelerating and then bending the motion into a circle, using the brakes."
"And the results?"
"The experiment confirmed in practice what I suspected in theory. The added benefit, though, is what surprised me."
"Which was?"
"WIKKID G-FORCE! Oh, my god, Dan! It was like when I was little, and Dad used to swing me around by my arms and tell me I was flying!"
"Officer Gremaux. Do you feel, Sir, that with expected results having been achieved, future experimentation will not be necessary, practical or WISE?"
"Oh. Um, yes, Officer Gremaux."
"Then I will note that, and rest knowing we have an understanding, with absolutely ZERO chance this will happen again. Are you in agreement?"
"I am....."
Dan handed back the papers I'd given him.
"Good. I'm so glad we had this talk. Now get your skinny ass home, don't do any science experiments on public roads again, and wear your damned seatbelt! Don't they teach you numbskulls anything in Drivers' Education classes?!"
"Well.....yeah. Proper use of a turn signal, parallel parking and how to navigate the back seat on Prom Night without leaving evidence of underaged moral turpitude....."
"My tax dollars well-spent on education, I can see that right now. GO! And stop being a smart-ass when you answer The Law!"
Dan laughed, which made me laugh, and suddenly I was warmer because I was no longer sweating with my window rolled down in 0º weather. I got back in my truck and merged back onto Main Street, but because I'll always be a smart-ass, I stayed in first gear and even put my flashers on, all the way up to the top of the hill, at barely five miles per hour. Dan drove past me, shaking his head and smiling. I knew, or I hoped, that incident would make its way to my big brother in an email entitled, `Do you know what your lame 15-year-old little brother did THIS time??'.
On the trip home this morning, I had nothing on my mind but being productive in the following fourteen hours. I'd been spending a lot of time not on the farm, and that's where I made my money. I was too old to know better, but too young to fully understand the extra burden my absence places on Mom and Aleksy, even if they say I can go do whatever. Eva was just behind the counter at Common Grounds'. Even if she wasn't ready to pull ristrettos, we could say good morning' to each other. I wanted to congratulate her on the acquisition of the `other' twins.
"Jeffrey! `Mornin', Darlin'!"
"Hi, Eva! I know you just got here; don't worry about anything for me. Just wanted to say `hi'."
"I'm all ready to go; the boiler just shot me a green light. This thing heats up so fast! I'm thinking of buying another one, or maybe two more; one more for this end, and one for the other end. Folks know me for coffee, so I think it'd be best to have it in both places."
"I can't argue that logic. Heck, this is the only time in recent memory that I've driven here and not had a line in front of me. So.....if I can really buy something, can you please make me my regular?"
"Of course! Four shots again?"
"Yeah.....what's a Zombinator' without em? WEAK, that's what it is!"
We heard a squawk, and Eva reached above her head and pulled down a good, old-fashioned, good-ol'-boy CB radio handset.
"`Common Grounds', you there yet? This is Blue Angel, over."
"Hi, Blue Angel; this is `Common Grounds'. Open, over."
"Comin' in heavy with hogs for market. I need a full Thermos and a couple of pastries; whatever you have, over."
"Copy, Blue Angel; I'll have it ready! I can't open the door at night anymore; my knights in shining armor are pulling rank on me. But I'm at the window, Blue, over"
"That's just fine with me, and it's just wise, anyway. I'll pass the word along to the other skippers in their highway schooners. I'll park a ways away, too; I think the rancher forgot to give these piggies a bath before loading them up this morning, over."
"HAHAHA! Copy, Blue Angel, over!"
The entire time Eva was talking with `Blue Angel', she was pulling my shots of white coffee and mixing my Zombinator. Fascinating, to have that sense of timing and the ability to multi-task on the fly."
"`Blue Angel', eh? Can't really say I'd expect a trucker to have that handle!"
"His twin brother is Red Devil'. Their mom came up with their handles. Now they're known far and wide for their playful banter over the CB. You know the Magliozzi Brothers on NPR? Click and Clack'? That's what these two are like. Their timing hasn't worked out so I could have a `live show' with them both here, but I can hope! Guys like them make this job so much fun.....as long as they park their conspiracy theories and political stuff long enough to get their stuff and back on the road."
"Ahhh.....well, you're great at steering a conversation, Eva. And a business. So, getting those buildings here! That'll be interesting."
"The twin brothers are going to help! They know other guys who have their own low-boy trailers, and other people who can run pilot cars. It'll cost me, but still come in far less than buying two new double-wide manufactured homes like this one and convert them to commercial use. I'm excited! Now I just need to learn to make pizza and ice cream! To start, though.....I think I might just do coffee and breakfast out of both, until next Spring. That'll give me time and operating capital to get the right equipment---and the right training. Oh, and staff!"
"Eva, you are blessed beyond measure. I'm really happy for you. I'm also really happy.....well, not gonna get mushy, but I'm really happy with how things are now. You know....."
"Your brother and me? Yeah.....me, too. Thanks. I can tell you, this is the happiest I've been in my whole life. I have my man, I have my business, and someday, I'll have my babies. I wish I could do all three right now, today!"
"Well, if you were nine months' pregnant today, I'd say that's entirely possible! It'll happen when it happens. I look forward to it."
"You're gonna be a great uncle, Jozef. Marc will be, too. I really hope....."
"So do I, Eva."
"My own track record with Team W hasn't been so great, at least not previously. I'm afraid I look at everyone else through my own failures, and I know that's not fair."
"There was no failure on your part, Eva; and you're here now. I can tell you Aleksy is the happiest he has ever been in his life, too. Certainly the happiest he has been in MY life. So both of you? Just spreadin' sunshine and happiness on the farm and in this place, too. Oh----is the new oven okay?"
"It will be. It needed to be calibrated. Aleksy came over for an hour last evening. Now it's accurate. I burned two dozen muffins, assuming the temperature was really at 350º! I had the smoke alarms going crazy, and Kim was running from here to the kitchen with a fire extinguisher, ready to go! We looked like Lucy and Ethel in the candy factory episode!"
"HAHAHA!!! I'd have liked to see that!"
I pulled a Ten out of my wallet, but Eva turned away in mock indignation.
"You two got me my new oven, with twice the capacity! That just cut the production costs down in both time and money. You have more Zombinators coming your way for your good works!"
I knew arguing was a fool's errand, so I shook my head an laughed.
"Okay, BUT: I want to know how to jockey that coffee thoroughbred!"
"A deal! Thanks!"
I started the motor and waved, driving across the highway to the county road that would take me to the farm and a long day of (possibly) running cock-and-hen interference, driving to the Ag Station, checking on puppies, planning the planting of Winter wheat, loving a steer, grilling chicken for a feast, doing the feasting, and arranging the hayloft for a little romance with my man.
My man.
My man, my family, my farm. I said Eva was blessed beyond measure, and she was. But she had nothing on me.