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Subject: {ASSM} (New) Sometimes Love Is Not Enough (Jack) (mf, Mf, inc, violence)
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This work of fiction is for the entertainment of adults in locations
where it is legal. If it is illegal in your location, don't read it!
This work is copyrighted. Reposting or any other use is strictly
prohibited without the express, written permission of the copyright
holder. E-mail me, I'll probably give you permission. I just want to
know and control where it is posted. This story may be posted as part
of a review or to free-access, non-commercial archive sites.
My thanks to Ruthie for her editing and suggestions. Any errors you
find are my fault not hers.
Tell me what you liked, or didn't like. Please!
E-mail address: tradesjackofall@hotmail.com
My stories can be found at my website:
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/j/wwwoat
or
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jack_of_all_Trades/
Copyright 2000 by Jack of all Trades
Sometimes Love Is Not Enough
Chapter 1
Paul Sanders bent over his horse's neck and gave him a well-
deserved pat. It was a glorious day. Not a cloud in the sky, the
temperature a comfortable 70 degrees, and 15-year-old Paul was
doing something he loved dearly, his best friend under him,
eating up the distance with long loping strides. It wasn't a
full gallop, the horse had one more gear if Paul needed it but
they weren't in a hurry, just having fun while they kicked up
their heels, raised a little dust.
They were on a long straight stretch of the path, the river lay
to their left, dark blue-gray water reflected the bright
sunshine and hadn't been fully warmed by the impending summer's
heat. Patrick tossed his head, gave off a whinny as if to say,
"You having fun?" Paul clicked his teeth and Patrick responded
instantly, flat out they rode down the path, wind rushing by.
Patrick's breath came in snorts, his hooves pounded against the
ground. Paul laughed in sheer joy as they approached a bend. He
pulled lightly against the reins, and Patrick dropped into a
canter as they took the turn and came face to face with the
girl.
Paul reined hard and Patrick skidded to a stop. He tossed his
head and snorted at Paul's heavy-handedness. "Easy fella," Paul
murmured. Patrick stomped his hoof, blew out a sigh. Paul
dismounted, flipping the reins over Patrick's long neck. The
girl had jumped back in surprise and was picking herself up from
where she fell. Paul led Patrick over, "I'm sorry Miss, we
didn't mean to scare you." He was prepared for her to yell, tell
him what an irresponsible louse he was, instead she smiled at
him.
"He's beautiful," she said. Patrick nickered, he knew when
someone was complimenting him. Patrick was beautiful, a Palomino
quarter horse Paul jokingly referred to as "the blonde in his
life." He had gotten him for a song, his previous owner felt he
was too wild, couldn't be tamed. The two of them just clicked.
Patrick tested Paul and found he wouldn't be unseated. Paul
tested Patrick and found a friend. Others could ride him but
would never own him. He belonged to Paul and Paul to him, a once
in a lifetime horse.
Patrick rubbed his head against Paul's back, then flicked his
head up, sending Paul stumbling against the girl. His arm
wrapped around her to keep them from falling. "Ornery, too,"
Paul said when he recovered his balance. He felt the softness of
her body pressed to his, looked into the purest blue eyes he had
ever seen and was lost. She squirmed in his arms, bringing him
back. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said as he let her go. She took a step
back, putting distance between them, her eyes appraising him.
"It's alright," she said, stepping past him toward Patrick.
"Aren't you pretty?" she cooed to the horse. Paul was used to it
by now. Every woman he ever met while he was with Patrick
ignored him and went directly to the horse. It gave Paul a
chance to study her while she stroked Patrick's forehead and
talked softly to him. She wasn't tall, about 5' 2" if Paul had
to guess. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail that
hung to the small of her back. The t-shirt she wore was sheer
enough that he could see the straps of her bra through the
material. She had on black shorts and her legs were slender, a
runner's legs. She was jogging when they almost rode her down.
"His name is Pat, short for Patrick," Paul said.
"Hello, Pat, I'm Pat, too, short for Patience." Patrick bobbed
his head up and down and was rewarded with the beginnings of a
smile from Patience. The damn horse is better with women than I
ever will be, thought Paul. Patrick nuzzled her neck. "He sure
is friendly," she said.
"He can be when he wants to," Paul said. "Can't you, fella?" he
said, stroking Patrick's neck. "I'm Paul Sanders, my parents own
a farm about a mile back thataway," Paul said pointing. He
smiled his most ingratiating smile, hoping to catch her
interest. She smiled back, not a full smile but pleasant enough.
Something about it tugged at Paul, an underlying sadness, if a
smile could be sad. "Would you like to ride him?" Paul asked.
Her face brightened, then turned sad again.
"Yes, that would be nice, but I have to get home, I have to get
home," she said hurriedly and jogged off without a backward
glance.
"Not very friendly, is she?" Paul said to the horse as he tossed
the reins over Patrick's head. They rode down the path at a more
sedate pace while Paul thought about Patience. She seemed almost
frightened of him and the way she had squirmed against him when
he held her, it was like she couldn't bear his touch. Paul shook
his head, clearing the thoughts, and rode Patrick back to the
farm.
------
William Garvin closed the loan file he was reading. He glanced
at his watch. It was after five but he knew he had no reason to
rush home. Karen, his wife, had called earlier in the day and
told him she was going shopping. The bitch better be careful how
she spends my money, he thought. Even though his transfer here
had resulted in a pay increase he was under no illusions about
what it really meant. Any time you were transferred out of the
main office to a bumfuck town like Thomasville it was a death
sentence, even if it was the largest bank in the county. His
manager had buttered him up, told him how he would be in charge
of the entire lending department, waived the raise in front of
his face, but he knew it was what was unsaid that mattered. They
wanted him out of Groverton and were even willing to pay to
accomplish it. He seethed inside at the thought that he had been
found wanting. He took off his glasses, rubbed his nose, and
thought, God I need a drink.
He locked the files away in the storage room, then locked up the
bank. On the way home he stopped at a liquor store and bought a
liter of Wild Turkey. He could almost taste it, and he rushed
home.
Without even changing his rumpled suit, he went to the kitchen
to fix his drink. He splashed a generous portion of bourbon on
top of a few ice cubes and recorked the bottle. His hand
trembled as he took a healthy swig. The bourbon quieted his
nerves and he felt himself relaxing. With a half-eaten bag of
chips in one hand and the bottle of whiskey in the other, he
wandered into the den and flipped on the TV, tuning into a
baseball game. Settling onto the ragged couch he sipped his
whiskey and ate chips while he watched the game and waited for
them to come home.
By the time Karen and Patience walked into the house, the bottle
was half empty and Bill Garvin had worked himself into a lather
thinking about all the money his bitch wife and daughter had
spent. He heard the kitchen door shut, the sound of their
voices. He got up to give them a piece of his mind.
The two women were talking happily together until they saw Bill
standing in the kitchen doorway. Experience had taught them to
be silent around him when he was this way, they both could smell
the whiskey halfway across the room. "How much you shpend thish
time bitch?" he slurred.
Karen kept her eyes down, not wanting to challenge him. "Not
much, just got a couple of blouses for Patience, they were on
sale."
"Let me shee them." Patience pulled the blouses out of the bag
she was holding and held them up for her father.
"Put them on."
Patience jumped at the chance to escape. "Sure, Daddy, I'll go
change."
"No, here!" he demanded loudly.
Patience felt tears welling up in her eyes. "Bill, let her
change..." Bill's hand flailed out, backhanded Karen across the
face and sent her slumping against the kitchen cabinets. "I
washn't talking to you, bitch!" he shouted. Karen cowered
against the cabinets, she could taste blood where he had split
her lip. "Do it," he screamed at Patience. Patience's fingers
worked the buttons of her blouse, tears streamed down her face.
"Hurry up," he demanded. Patience shrugged the blouse off and
put a new one on. "It'sh pretty. The other one." She put on the
other blouse. "I like the firsht one better, take that one
back." He turned around and stomped back to the den. The terror
had passed for now. Karen got up sobbing softly and started to
make dinner. Patience grabbed her clothes and ran to her room.
She hated him. Hated what he had become, the things he made her
do. At times she even hated her mother for being too weak to
stand up to him, for not protecting her. Patience wanted him
dead. She prayed that he would have an accident, slam into a
tree when he was drunk, but so far none of her prayers had been
answered. She sobbed into her pillow until her mother called her
to dinner.
Bill drank through dinner and Patience hoped he would drink
enough to make him pass out. No words were spoken as they ate
quietly and the two women hoped he wouldn't explode again.
Patience retreated to her room as soon as she finished. She
heard angry words though her door, the sharp smack of a hand
slapping flesh, and her mother's sobs. She undressed hurriedly,
put on a nightgown, then turned off the lights and climbed into
bed.
She heard his heavy footfalls coming down the hallway. "Not
tonight, please God, not tonight," she prayed. She heard him go
into the dingy bathroom next door, and through the thin walls
the sound of him urinating. Patience relaxed slightly but knew
the danger wasn't over yet. Keep him away, God, keep the monster
away, she thought. The toilet flushed, she heard the bathroom
door open, then light spilled into her room from the hallway.
"Hello, Patty," he said, walking to her bed. "How about a good
night kish for your Dad." He planted his lips against hers, his
tongue, bitter with whiskey, invaded her mouth. God, help me,
she pleaded silently. Bill sat on the bed, his fingers stroking
her hair. "Take it out," he hissed. Patience didn't move. His
fingers fisted her hair, jerked her head. Tears came to her eyes
from the pain. "Do it or I'll hurt you worsh then thish." Her
fingers fumbled at his zipper, tugged it down. Her small hand
reached inside and pulled his flaccid cock out of his pants.
"Thatsh better, now play with it." Patience's fingers fondled
him, felt him growing in her hand. She wished she could just rip
it off his body. "Shtroke it," he demanded. Her hand slid up and
down his shaft. "Thatsh the best you can do? Chrisht, you're
worthless." He jerked her head into his crotch. "Ushe your
mouth," he said as his hand roughly mauled her breast.
------
A couple of miles away, Paul was lying in his own bed, replaying
his meeting with Patience in his mind. Patience with the pure
blue eyes. I wonder what she's doing now, he thought as he
drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 2
Bill Garvin awoke to the buzzing of the alarm clock. His hand
reached out and slapped the top, activating the snooze setting.
He went into the bathroom and started the morning ritual. He was
in the shower when the clock went off again. Karen hurriedly
rolled over and shut it off. She got out of bed, her cheek
burning where Bill had struck her last night. She stopped in the
bathroom across the hall from Patience's room and looked in the
mirror. Her eye was black and her lip swollen. She had seen
worse, but that didn't make it hurt any less. She touched her
lip and winced at the pain.
Karen went into the kitchen and began fixing Bill's breakfast.
She fried some eggs and bacon and was just putting them on a
plate when Bill came into the room. "Morning," he grunted. He
sat down at the table and Karen put the plate in front of him.
She had gotten the morning paper off the porch while the eggs
were frying and Bill read the paper, ignoring her. He finished
his meal and put down the paper. "You look like shit, do
something about your face," he said, then got up and left.
Patience heard her father start the car and knew it was safe for
the time being. She dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, then went
into the kitchen. Her mother was seated at the table, her head
in her hands. "Mom, are you okay?" she asked. Karen looked up at
her daughter and nodded. Patience fixed some cereal and came
over to the table. She saw her mother's badly bruised face and
lip. "He's getting worse," Patience stated. Karen nodded
silently, tears welled up in her eyes. "Can't we just leave? Go
someplace where he'll never find us?"
Karen had thought about leaving him but where would she go? She
didn't have anything in her name, no money, and no family to go
home to. Her parents were gone - killed in a car crash years ago
-
and now the only thing she had left was her husband and
Patience. She didn't have any skills. Bill had insisted that she
not work, stay home, keep his house, and raise their child. She
was worthless. Bill had pointed that out to her constantly. The
only friends she ever had were also Bill's, she wouldn't feel
safe going to them. If they left, they would only get as far as
a few tanks of gas would take them. And then what? What would
she do? How would they survive? There may have been a time when
she could have left but he had been beaten it out of her long
ago.
"We can't," she said simply.
Patience banged her spoon in the bowl. "Fine, I'm going
running."
She stomped off and soon Karen heard the front door slam shut.
Running was Patience's way of coping with her problems. Karen's
was under the sink and she could feel herself drawn to it. She
got up and fixed herself a drink from the bottle of vodka she
kept hidden there. The alcohol burned her throat and stung her
lip as she drank it. There was another option, she thought. One
that would end all this forever, but she couldn't do that to
Patience, wouldn't leave her to face her father alone.
------
Paul dumped the last load of silage into the trough, then put
the wheelbarrow away. The steers jostled for position and fought
over the food behind him. He left the feedlot and walked over to
the equipment shed, glad that the morning chores were done.
"They're all fed," he told his father when he got to the shed.
"Good. I need to go into town this morning and meet with the new
loan officer at the bank. I want you to start raking up the hay
at eleven. I ought to be back around noon and I'll start baling
as soon as it's ready."
"Can I take Patrick for a ride until then? Paul asked.
"I suppose so, but you make sure you're back here to start
raking at eleven. It's supposed to rain later this evening and I
want that hay in before it does."
"Thanks," Paul said and took off running for the paddock to get
his horse.
Jim Sanders grinned to himself as he walked to the house. He
washed up and collected Martha, his wife, for the trip into
town. They could see Paul riding down the lane as they came out
of the house. "That boy sure does love that horse," Jim
commented to Martha.
"I wonder where he got that from," she said smiling wistfully.
She remembered a boy about Paul's age who used to come visit her
on his horse. Eventually she had fallen in love and married him.
Jim remembered courting Martha too, and they both had smiles on
their faces as they drove off for town.
"I wonder why the bank wanted to meet with us?" he asked his
wife.
"Probably just wants to get to know the customers."
"Probably."
They gave their name to the receptionist at the bank and she
told them to take a seat. They waited, Jim fidgeted.
"Gary Walker never made us wait like this," Jim whispered to
Martha.
"Gary isn't here anymore, dear," Martha said calmly.
Jim glanced at his watch. They had been waiting for 45 minutes.
He fidgeted some more. Finally a man came out. "Mr. and Mrs.
Sanders," he said. They stood up and walked over to him. "I'm
Bill Garvin, if you'll follow me." He guided them back the hall
and into his office. Closing the door behind them, he gestured
toward chairs in front of his desk then sat down.
"Mr. and Mrs. Sanders, we're here because your loan is up for
renewal this year," he began. "I've been reviewing the
documentation in your file. I assume you're aware that your
payments in January and February were late."
"Yes, but we caught them up..." Jim began.
"Yes you did, but according to the loan terms by being late the
bank has the right to demand payment on your loan."
"But Gary told us it would be okay to make the payments late."
"If he did, and I have no reason to doubt you, he didn't
document that in the file. I can see that you have been good
customers with us and we really don't want to call the loan.
What we propose is to renew the loan but because of the late
payments it will have to be at two and a half percent over prime
instead of the one percent you are paying now." He sat back and
waited for Jim Sanders to explode. He wasn't disappointed.
"Now wait a minute!" Jim said loudly. "You're telling me you're
gonna jack my loan rate up by one and a half points because Gary
forgot to put some damn document in the file? That's not right,
we called and told Gary it was going to be late, he told us it
wasn't a problem."
"Jim..." Martha said, trying to calm him.
"No, Martha! We've been banking here for twenty years. We've
been late before and never had a problem. Just what the hell is
going on here?"
Bill loved it, loved making them squirm. The fucking bank played
hardball with him, well he would just pass it along. "Mr.
Sanders, I can't do a thing about what Mr. Walker did or said. I
was brought here to bring the lending department into compliance
with the bank's policies. The fact remains you were late with
your payments. Under the terms of the loan agreement we have the
right to call the loan. Now I'm offering you a renewal on the
loan at what is a fair price, given your payment history."
Jim was furious. "A fair price!" he shouted. "You jack the rate
up like that and call it a fair price! You're out of your mind.
We won't renew, I'll find another bank that's willing to work
with me instead of against me!"
"You certainly have that right, but I can't imagine there are
many banks willing to lend to a debtor in default. Your loan
agreement runs until the end of the year and the bank is willing
to honor it as long as your payments are on time. If you haven't
renewed by then or paid off your loan we will have to
foreclose." He watched Jim's face turn almost purple with rage.
"C'mon Martha," Jim spat, "we're done here." Jim yanked the door
open angrily and left, Martha trailing in his wake.
"I don't think he's a happy camper," Bill said to himself,
chuckling. He got up and shut the door. Returning to his desk,
he slid open the bottom drawer and pulled out a flask. He
unscrewed the cap, took a healthy swallow, then screwed the cap
back on and returned it to the desk. The Sanderses could,
probably would, take their money out of the bank. He wasn't
worried about it, what was in their accounts wasn't much. It had
been fun to jerk them around. He found himself looking forward
to his afternoon appointment with another farmer in similar
straits.
------
Paul couldn't really explain why he decided to ride along the
river for a second day. Usually he and Patrick rode different
places each time. Patrick had let him know he was breaking
tradition when he pointed the horse down the path toward the
river. He balked at first, and then gave in when Paul turned him
back onto the path. They rode along the river at a nice easy
jog. Paul's eyes searched ahead looking for something, he wasn't
sure what, until he spied the figure of a solitary runner, her
long blonde hair flapping behind her, jogging along the path. He
sped Patrick into a trot to close the distance and shortly
brought the horse alongside her.
"Hello, Patience," he called out. She ignored him, kept running.
He held Patrick even with her, he could see she'd been crying.
Tears streaked her face. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice
tinged with concern.
"Go away! Leave me alone!"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, now leave me..." He had distracted her and she didn't
see the rut until her foot landed awkwardly. She sprawled to the
ground and clutched her ankle in pain. Paul stopped Patrick and
jumped off his back, flipping the reins over his neck. He rushed
over to her and squatted beside her. "Are you okay? Here let me
see," he said as he reached for her ankle.
She slapped his hand away. "Keep your hands off me," she moaned.
"I'm just trying to see if it's broken."
"It's not!"
"Let me look."
"No, just go away."
"I can't just leave you here like this! Now let me look." His
hand reached out slowly, she pushed it away. "Damn it Patty, let
me look at it."
"Don't call me that!" she screamed. "I hate it." She cringed,
slid herself back away from him on the ground.
"Okay, I won't!" he shouted, "but you hold still." She tried to
push his hand away again but this time he wouldn't let her. His
hand grasped her leg and she moaned. He could feel her shaking.
He untied her running shoe and slid it carefully off of her
foot.
"Just leave me be," she whimpered.
"When I know that you're alright," he replied. His fingers
carefully felt her ankle, it was already swollen and would get
worse, but he didn't think anything was broken and didn't see
any blood. "I think it's just a bad sprain," he sighed in
relief. "Let me help you up," he said as he stood up and offered
her his hand.
She stared at him, not moving a muscle. "Look," he said in
exasperation, "I can't help you up without touching you. You'll
just have to trust me. I promise I won't hurt you." She stared
at him for a moment more, then reached out tentatively with her
hand. Paul grasped it and pulled her gently to her feet. She
winced as she placed weight on the ankle.
"Yeah, I didn't think you would be able to put any weight on it.
Let me put you on Patrick and we'll give you a ride back to your
house."
She shook her head. "No, I can manage."
"No you can't. Try to walk on it." She took a few steps, but all
she could do was hop. "You see you'll never get home like that.
Now let me put you on the horse, I promise he won't hurt you
either." He led Patrick beside her. "I have to touch you again,"
he said as he bent his legs and grasped her waist before she
could protest. He lifted her easily above his head and guided
her onto the saddle. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" She
shook her head no.
He talked to her as he led the horse down the path. She just
nodded or shook her head when he asked her something.
Occasionally she would say yes or no. As they approached the
town, though, she had to give him directions and abandon the
silent routine. He led the horse up to her house then helped her
down. "Thanks," she whispered, then hopped toward the house.
"You're welcome," he replied. He caught a feeble wave from her
before she went inside. Paul mounted Patrick and looked at his
watch. Oh God, I'm going to be late, he thought. Instead of
going back to the path he cut through town to try to make up
time. They galloped alongside the road and up the lane to the
house. He looked at his watch as he dismounted. It was five
after eleven.
Jim had watched his son gallop up the lane. Still in the throes
of anger, he took it out on Paul. "You're late, I thought I told
you to be raking at eleven!"
"But Dad, I was..."
"I don't want to hear it, boy! I told you eleven and it's after
that. Put the horse away and get on the tractor. You're grounded
for a week. No riding, no nothing, you understand me?"
Paul nodded and led Patrick to the paddock. He walked the horse
inside and quickly removed the tack. He couldn't understand why
his father would be so mad over a measly five minutes.
Chapter 3
Bill Garvin felt like celebrating. He had convinced two farmers
today that foreclosure on their loans was imminent if they
didn't agree to renew at the higher rate. The best part was that
the stupid clodhoppers actually thanked him for being so
understanding. Christ, they don't come much dumber than those
guys, he thought. Yes, he felt like celebrating and stomped on
the brakes of his Lincoln as he passed the sign for the Roadside
Bar.
He stepped inside, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. He
took a seat at the bar and ordered Turkey on the rocks. He drank
quickly, and signaled the bartender for another. "Let me get
this one for you," a voice said. Bill turned and saw a man in
faded blue jeans and t-shirt, a dusty old Redman cap on his
head. The man held out his hand, and Bill took it.
"Josh Handelman," the man said.
"Bill Garvin."
Josh nodded. "You're the new loan officer at the bank, aren't
you?" Bill nodded. "Thought so." Josh knew who he was, his
friend Angus Caldwell had pointed Bill out one day. Josh figured
it couldn't hurt being drinking buddies with the bank's lending
officer - especially given the amount of debt he had outstanding
there. Bill drained his drink and waved for another. Josh pushed
some money at the bartender when he brought the drink back.
"Thanks," Bill said.
"Don't mention it. So how you like Thomasville so far?"
"It's okay, a little quiet though."
"You got that right," Josh laughed. "It's too fuckin' quiet if
you ask me. There ain't nothin' to do in this town. This heah
bar is the only damn nightlife for miles."
"You're right," Bill agreed. They talked for a while, taking
turns buying each other drinks as the evening faded into night.
Bill told Josh stories about Groverton and Josh regaled Bill
with tales about the titty bars in Madison, the closest small
city.
"You know I shaw your daughter the other week, she'sh a pretty
little thing," Josh told Bill.
"Oh? Where wa'sh that?"
"She wa'sh riding a horsh with Jim Shandershesh boy. They wa'sh
going through town when I sheen them." Bill slammed his drink to
the bar and got up. "Hey, what'sh wrong?" Josh asked.
"Nothing, jusht remembered shomething I gotta do." Bill walked
unsteadily to the door and left. He managed to get the Lincoln
home without hitting anything or anybody. He got out of the car,
a dangerous combination of anger and whiskey coursing through
his veins. He stumbled through the door and walked unsteadily
back to his bedroom. He ripped off his clothes and threw them in
the corner. The loud snoring of his wife told him she was passed
out in bed, something that was happening more and more. He
seethed, wanted to beat her for not knowing what their daughter
was up to, but he had something else to take care of first.
He stumbled down the hall and entered his daughter's room.
Patience awakened immediately. "No, no, no!" she pleaded
silently. Bill sat on the bed. "You know what I want, Patty,
don't make me hurt you." Her small hand reached out slowly and
wrapped around his flaccid cock. "Make it hard," he demanded.
She fondled him and felt it grow slowly in her hand. God, she
hated him. "Ushe you're mouth, shuck it," he demanded, grabbing
her hair and pulling her head to his cock. He felt her soft lips
slide over it and reveled in the sensations and the power he had
over her. "That'sh it shlut, shuck it good." Her eyes opened
wide and she knew it was going to happen again. The horror was
going to happen again.
"I think you got it wet and hard enough, shlut." He yanked her
head off his cock and threw her onto her back. He climbed
between her legs. "Daddy, no!" she shouted. He slapped her hard
across the mouth. "Shut up bitch." Her legs flailed under him.
"Shtop kicking me or sho help me God I'll beat you 'til you
can't move." Her legs still kicked, and he backhanded her hard
across the face. She gave up then and lay there sobbing as he
placed his cock against her opening and drove himself inside
her. She always screamed at the pain, he liked that. He clapped
his large hand over her mouth. "Shut up whore, you think I don't
know about your boyfriend? You shpreading your legsh for any boy
you meet? Are you, bitch?" he spat while sawing back and forth
inside her. "Here whore, thish ish for you," he shouted and came
inside her.
He climbed off her, but not without a final swat at her small,
heaving breasts. "You shtay away from that boy, you hear me?"
She nodded, her face streaked with tears. "Good," he said as he
stormed out of the room. She lay there sobbing into her pillow
until she fell asleep exhausted.
------
Paul finished up his morning chores and walked to the equipment
shed. His father was working on the tractor, changing the oil.
"The chores are done," he told him.
"Thanks." Jim straightened up, wiped his greasy hands on a rag.
"Can I..., am I done being grounded," Paul asked plaintively.
It tugged at Jim and he remembered the angry words he had spoken
to his son last week. "Paul, I shouldn't of... I mean last week
I was mad about something else, something that had nothing to do
with you being late, and well, I shouldn't of taken it out on
you. I'm sorry, son."
"It's okay," Paul said, his mood noticeably brighter. "Does that
mean I can go riding?"
Jim laughed. "Yeah, I don't need you for the rest of the day, go
have fun."
"Thanks, Dad," he shouted as he ran to get the tack. Patrick was
at the far end of the paddock and Paul whistled to get his
attention. Patrick's head came up and seeing his friend at the
fence he took off at a gallop to meet him. Paul laughed while
the horse nuzzled him. "I know, I've missed you too, fella." He
saddled him up, put on the bridle, and mounted the horse. "We
have all day," Paul told Patrick as they jogged through the
trees.
He guided the horse down the path that led to the river. They
rode for hours while Paul searched for a glimpse of Patience. He
could feel Patrick getting antsy under him. He wasn't used to
riding the same path over and over again. "I know, fella, be
patient," he said. Something wasn't quite right and he worried
about her. Maybe her ankle hadn't healed yet and she couldn't
run. Heck, he had all day. He would just ride over to her house
and see how she was doing. He turned Patrick onto the path
toward town and the horse tossed his head in agreement, as if
saying "About time."
Paul guided Patrick through town, struggling to remember the way
to Patience's house. He sighed in relief when he found it and
slid out of the saddle to the ground. He tied Patrick to a tree,
then walked to the front door and knocked. He heard footsteps
and a woman answered the door. "Yes?" she asked.
"Hi, I'm Paul Sanders, is Patience home?"
The woman turned inside. "Patience! There's someone at the door
for you."
Paul saw her coming out of the kitchen and noticed she wasn't
limping.
Patience was shaking her head at him as she came to the door.
Panic raced through her. "Go away," she hissed. Paul saw bruises
on her face, her swollen lip.
"Oh my God, what happened?" he asked in alarm.
"Nothing! Now go away, don't ever come back here."
"Patience, what's wrong?"
"I told you, nothing! Go away, I don't ever want to see you
again," she shouted and slammed the door in his face. He could
hear her sobs on the other side of the door. He felt crushed, as
if the whole world had come crashing down on top of him. He
plodded back to Patrick, untied him and mounted up. He turned
the horse back toward town and rode slowly back to the farm.
Jim saw them coming up the lane and noted the lack of spirit in
both the boy and horse. He watched Paul unsaddle Patrick slowly
then turn him out in the paddock. Paul brought the tack back
into the shed and put it away. "Is everything alright?" Jim
asked.
"Huh? Yeah... no... it's something I need to work out on my
own." Paul replied.
"You aren't in any trouble, are you?"
"No."
"Okay then, sometimes it helps to talk things out, if you want
to talk about it, I'm willing to listen."
"Thanks.... Dad, I met this girl..."
Jim laughed. "I'm sorry. Son, if it's about a woman, well there
ain't enough talking in the world that's going to help you
figure them out. I ain't got your mama figured out yet and I've
known her over twenty-five years..." He saw a big car speeding
up the lane, dust billowing behind it. "Now who the hell is
that?" he said out loud. The car skidded to a stop in front of
the shed. Bill Garvin got out, slamming the door shut.
"What the hell do you want?" Jim spat angrily.
"I want you to keep that snot-nosed brat from sniffing around my
daughter, that's what the hell I want!" Bill shouted. "You keep
him away from her or I'll start the filings to foreclose on this
farm, you understand me?"
"Get off my property!"
Bill smiled wickedly, "The bank has the right to inspect the
property anytime it wants, it's in the loan agreement."
"You're not inspecting, you're threatening, now get off my
property."
"You can forget about the bank renewing the loan. You keep that
punk away from my daughter or I swear to God I'll have the
papers filed so fast it'll make your head spin."
"The boy has his own mind, he'll do what he wants and you can't
stop it. Now get off my goddamn property before I call the
sheriff."
Bill retreated to the car. "I mean it, keep the fuck away from
my daughter," he shouted at Paul as he got in the car and drove
away.
Jim gazed fondly at his son. "This girl you met, is it his
daughter?"
"I guess so," Paul replied.
Jim laughed, "Well now, I guess this just made it a hell of a
lot more complicated, didn't it?"
"Yeah," Paul sighed.
Chapter 4
Despite his best efforts Paul didn't see Patience for the rest
of the summer. He rode the path beside the river daily,
abandoning his other riding trails. He changed up times but it
didn't matter, it was as if Patience had dropped off the face of
the earth, or at least never set foot outside. He considered
going to her house, but given his last visit and the threats
from her father, he felt it best not to antagonize him.
The only bright spot in the summer as far as Paul was concerned
was his sixteenth birthday. With it came the opportunity to get
his driver's license. He had been driving vehicles on the farm
since he could reach the pedals, so he passed the exam easily
and now had the freedom to go anywhere. His Dad told him to keep
as his own an old pickup truck they used to haul stuff around on
the farm. Paul spent a lot of the remaining summer vacation
fixing the truck and cleaning it up.
------
Jim belonged to the Grange, an organization that promoted
agricultural activities and legislation to protect rural
heritage. His chapter met once a month and Jim made it a habit
to attend all the meetings. The speaker at this month's meeting
was Leonard Miles, the soil conservation director for the
county. His speech featured the latest planting techniques to
minimize soil loss. Most of the farmers in the county belonged
to the Grange and tonight had a good turnout. When his speech
was over, the farmers milled about and talked to each other. It
was apparent early on why turnout was so high. Everyone was
discussing Bill Garvin and not a single farmer had anything good
to say. Practically everyone had been called into his office and
threatened with foreclosure if they didn't renew their loans at
above-market rates. The more Jim heard the angrier he got. He
decided to take action.
Jim walked to the lectern and tapped the microphone. The loud
thump told him it was still on. "Gentlemen, can I have your
attention?" he announced. Farmers, friends for the most part,
turned toward him, the conversation in the room died down.
"Thanks. It appears most of us have had the opportunity to meet
with Bill Garvin, the new loan director at the bank. Those of
you that haven't can consider yourselves lucky." Angry laughter
responded to the statement. "In most cases, Mr. Garvin has
threatened us with foreclosure on our loans unless we renew at
inflated rates. In my case his excuse was I made a couple of
payments late. I haven't heard what he's told all of you, but I
can guess it was pretty much the same. We all know farming is a
tough business, and cash flow is a constant problem. For years
Farmers First has been the best bank to deal with. Gary Walker
understood the farm business better'n most. If you were going to
be late, as long as you called him, he understood and was
patient. When Gary retired I expected some changes, but nothing
like this. So the question is what are we going to do about it?"
"Kill him!" somebody shouted.
"I don't think that's a viable option," Jim chuckled, "although
it would be satisfying. Anybody have any other ideas?"
"Why don't we start our own bank?" Bill Chalmers yelled. Murmurs
of "good idea" rippled through the crowd.
"It is a good idea, but the problem I see is we all need to
borrow, none of us has more in the bank than what we owe, so
where would we get the capital?" Jim pointed out.
"Has anyone talked to Gary Walker?" Steve Birdsong asked.
"I know I haven't, have any of you?" Jim asked. Nobody said
anything. "I know Gary about as well as anyone here, I guess.
How about I ask him to speak to all of us?" There were shouts of
assent amongst the gathering. "Okay, I'll do that. One idea I
thought of was all of us banding together to take our loans to a
single lender, I would think we would get some attention from
some banks with that large of a package." Again the gathering
agreed it was a good idea. "I'll talk to Gary about that, too.
Anybody have anything else? No response. "Okay, thanks for your
attention, I feel better knowing we're doing something." Jim
walked away from the lectern and rejoined his friends. People
came up to him and thanked him for taking the lead. He felt a
sense of accomplishment as he drove home from the meeting.
The next morning he called Gary. He explained what was happening
at the bank and how upset the farmers were at the Grange
meeting. Gary expressed shock at the way Bill Garvin was
operating. Jim said the farmers would like to meet with him to
see if he had any ideas on how to proceed. He warned Gary
everyone was pretty upset and he would have to be at his
diplomatic best. Gary laughed and thanked him for the warning.
------
Paul was sitting in homeroom talking to George Bellows about his
summer when Patience walked in. He hadn't seen her since the day
she slammed the door in his face. She sat down next to George.
She still hadn't seen Paul or if she had, she didn't show any
signs of recognition. Paul motioned to George to lean closer,
then asked him in a whisper if he would change seats with him.
George agreed and they switched seats.
"Hello, Patience." She looked at him and he could see surprise
in her pure blue eyes, those same eyes he had fallen into when
Patrick pushed him against her on the path by the river. "Come
on, the least you can do is say hi back," he cajoled her. She
sat there silent while the teacher called the role. Paul tried
to get her to talk, to say anything, but she remained silent.
The bell rang for the first class and Paul lost her in the
shuffle to change classrooms. He didn't see her for the rest of
the morning. At lunchtime he got his tray from the cafeteria and
was looking for a place to sit when he saw her sitting by
herself. He made his way over to her and sat down beside her.
"Hello again." He waited for a response. Patience looked around
for someplace to get away from him. "Patience, I'm not going to
bite, I haven't ever hurt you, why won't you talk to me?" She
looked down at her tray and said nothing. "Patty, I'm not..."
"I told you never to call me that," she hissed. He could see
tears welling up in her eyes. She stood up and Paul stood up
with her.
"Well at least you're talking." She looked at him in surprise,
he had a small smile on his face. "I thought maybe you had been
struck mute," he joked. "Why won't you talk to me? Why'd you
slam the door in my face?"
"You wouldn't understand." She sat back down and Paul sat beside
her.
"Probably not, but it would have to be better than not knowing."
She was talking for the moment and he planned on drawing her
out. "I looked for you everyday after that, but you never were
out running."
"I wasn't allowed."
"Why not?"
"Because of you."
"Me? What did I do?"
"Nothing, but my father found out from someone that you took me
home when I sprained my ankle, and I wasn't allowed to run
anymore."
"Still, what did I do?"
"Nothing, you didn't have to, my father doesn't want me seeing
boys."
"He needs to get you blinders then. The world's lousy with them,
it's kind of hard not to see them." Patience cracked a smile.
"Was that a smile," Paul asked in feigned amazement.
"No," she said looking away.
"It was too, I know a smile when I see it."
"Then why'd you ask?"
"To see if I could get another." He didn't.
"Why won't you leave me be?"
"I can't. Since the first day I met you I've been thinking about
you every day, wondering about what you are doing. I don't know
why, but I do. I want to know everything about you, Patience."
"No you don't," she insisted, getting up and leaving hurriedly.
Paul sighed in exasperation and ate his lunch.
Paul didn't give up easily. He managed to talk to her every
homeroom before the bell rang to start classes. He'd tell her
about the new tricks he was teaching Patrick, how Patrick missed
her. Mainly she ignored him, but occasionally something he said
would strike her funny and a hint of a smile would appear on her
face.
He'd find her at lunchtime and sit beside her. The fact that she
let him encouraged him. It wasn't much different than homeroom
but sometimes she would talk to him. She never talked about her
family. Paul told her all about his, how his Dad had inherited
the farm from his father and gradually built it up to the size
it was now, how his father and mother had fallen in love, or at
least the version they told him.
He was running out of topics and worried about what he would do
when that happened. They were seated in the cafeteria and he was
telling her about a trail he liked to ride when she interrupted
him.
"Don't you ever stop talking?"
"I would if you talked to me."
"How am I supposed to talk to you when you're talking all the
time?"
"Good point. Okay, I'm listening."
She didn't say anything at first, then took a deep breath and
began. She told him safe things about herself, things she liked
and hated. Then she told him about Groverton and the high school
there. He listened and looked, fascinated with the way she moved
her hands when she talked and the sound of her voice. The bell
rang and it was time to go back to class but the wall had been
breached and he was elated.
The next morning she didn't ignore him in homeroom, and they
talked about classes and things happening at school. At lunch
they continued their conversations. Before they knew it they
were friends and Patience was amazed to realize that she looked
forward to their talks together.
------
The meeting with Gary Walker and the farmers went well. After
hearing the complaints the farmers had about Bill Garvin he was
convinced something was very wrong at the bank. He thought the
idea to package all their loans together had merit, but he felt
the best method would be to take their complaints to Groverton
and the bank's main office. Gary called a friend who was a vice-
president at the bank and asked to be put on the agenda for the
next directors meeting. The friend agreed, and Gary and Jim
drove up for the meeting.
Gary addressed the board first and explained how things had
operated at the bank while he was in charge of loans. He then
asked Jim to address the directors and tell them what happened
after Bill Garvin took over. Jim explained how Garvin called him
to ostensibly go over their loan and get familiar with bank
customers. When they got to the bank he not only made them wait
45 minutes before meeting, but then threatened foreclosure
unless they renewed the loan at a rate he could never pay.
"The thing that struck me," Jim concluded, "was Mr. Garvin
telling me the bank hired him to clean up the lending department
at Farmers First and he had to comply with bank policies. It
wasn't the bank's policy when Gary was our loan officer, and
hasn't been the policy for the last twenty-some years I've been
banking there. So I wonder, is Mr. Garvin speaking for the bank?
If so, then we need to look for a bank that understands farming
like Farmers First used to."
On the ride back Gary and Jim talked. Gary felt Jim's speech had
impressed the board and told him so. Jim didn't think it had and
went over with Gary the steps they could take to solicit other
banks with the packaged loan portfolio.
------
After Gary and Jim left, the directors discussed what they
heard. While some of the directors felt it was good policy for
the bank to force the farmers into strict compliance with loan
policies, most had an agricultural background and knew the bank
had been built on lending to farmers. By a vote of 6-3 they
decided to start an internal investigation into the lending
department at Farmers First bank in Thomasville.
Chapter 5
Bill took a drink from his flask and put it back in his desk.
Christ what a day! His wife had gotten so goddamn drunk the
night before she passed out on the bed and hadn't moved since.
He had showered and gone through his morning ritual. When he
came out of the bathroom, the damn alarm was buzzing loudly and
she just slept through the damn thing. Well he had given her a
wake up call she wouldn't forget soon. Christ, the only
responsibility she had was to take care of him and their
daughter and she couldn't even do that right.
Then he had arrived at the bank to find a team of auditors
waiting for him. They were conducting a surprise inspection of
the bank's loan portfolio. Bill called Victor Gaines at the main
office to confirm that the auditors should be there. Gaines was
the vice president in charge of Garvin's bank. Gaines wasn't
there but his assistant told Bill it was strictly routine. The
bank was instituting new procedures in response to regulatory
changes with which they had to comply.
As the day wore on and he answered questions from the auditors,
he began to wonder. It appeared they were concentrating on the
farm loans, and their questions seemed anything but routine. He
struggled all day to keep his anger in check while he answered
question after question. They had finished just a short time ago
and Bill had heaved a sigh of relief as he showed them out of
the bank and locked up behind them.
He stopped at the Roadside Bar on his way home. He had become a
regular patron of the establishment over the past few months.
Josh Handelman was there and they sat on adjacent stools. The
two talked and drank and as Bill's tongue loosened, he told Josh
about the audit he had just gone through. Josh commiserated with
him until Bill left to go home. Bill thought about the audit as
he drove home and the more he thought about it the angrier he
got. He was in a drunken frenzy as he walked through the front
door.
Karen was sprawled on a chair, still dressed in the same
nightgown she wore when he left that morning, a half-empty glass
in her hand. Rage coursed through him as he walked over to her
and slapped the glass against the wall where it exploded in a
shower of fragments and liquor. She looked up at him bleary-
eyed, her mind not registering the danger she was in. "You
fucking cunt," Bill shouted as he slapped her across the face.
"Goddamn you, you're shupposed to be taking care of thish housh
and our daughter. Inshtead you fucking lay around all day drunk
out of your mind. I thought I shtraightened you out thish
morning," he shouted, then backhanded her across the face. Karen
fell out of the chair against a table, tipping it over and
sending the lamp crashing to the floor. She lay there sobbing,
blood dripping from her nose onto the dirty floor.
Patience heard the shouting and cowered on her bed. She heard
the crash of the lamp and despite her fear she got off the bed
and cracked open the door to see what had happened. Her father
was standing over her mother, kicking at her and screaming. Her
mother was lying on the floor, a puddle of blood in front of her
face. Patience ran over and grabbed her father. "Daddy, stop,
you're killing her!" she screamed.
"Get off me bitch," he yelled. His arm flailed out and caught
Patience across the face, sending her into a crumpled heap on
the floor. Bill kicked at Karen again, then his anger spent, he
shuffled to the bedroom and passed out on the bed.
------
Josh Handelman told a friend about his conversation with Bill in
the bar, who told a friend, who told another friend. It didn't
take long for the word to get back to Jim and the other farmers
that the bank was starting to act on the information they had
given to the board of directors.
------
When Patience walked into homeroom the next day, Paul's eyes
widened in surprise. She sat down beside him.
"What happened to you?" he asked.
"Nothing," she replied curtly.
"That doesn't look like nothing."
"Just drop it, please," she asked plaintively.
Paul didn't want to let it drop, but the bell rang, cutting off
his next question.
At lunch he found her sitting at a table staring out the window.
"Come on," he said holding his hand out to her.
"Where to?"
"To talk."
"I don't want to talk."
"I know, but we have to."
She didn't want to go, but something compelled her to take his
hand. He led her outside, away from the crowds milling around
the entrance to the school, taking advantage of the Indian
summer day. He sat down on the grass, his back against the
building. He patted the ground beside him. "Sit down." She sat
beside him. Paul sighed. "Patience, how did you get the
bruises?" She shook her head. "Please, I'm your friend, I want
to help you." She started to sob and Paul wrapped her in his
arms and held her to his shoulder while she cried against him.
He thought he knew the answer but he needed to hear it from her,
so he patiently waited until she got herself back under control.
"Was it your father?" he asked softly. He heard a little gasp,
then felt her head nodding against his shoulder. "Your father
did this to you?" he asked, his voice rising in surprise. She
nodded, then started crying again. Paul heard the bell ring for
the end of lunch. He kissed the top of her head. "Patience, we
need to leave, classes are starting and someone will be out
looking for us." She looked up at him. "I know a place we can go
where no one will find us." He stood up and offered his hand.
"Trust me," he said. Patience put her hand in his and he helped
her to her feet. He led her to the truck and drove to his home.
He parked the truck beside the equipment shed. "Wait here for a
second." He walked inside the shed. His father was there,
working on the tractor.
"You're supposed to be in school," he said.
"I know, but something important came up, don't ask me any
questions, I'll explain tonight."
"Son, I can't..."
"Please."
"It better be a good reason. Go on."
Paul grabbed the tack for Patrick and carried it to the paddock.
He whistled and the horse came running. He saddled and bridled
the horse, then led him over to the truck. "Come on," he said to
Patience. She got out of the truck and he helped her onto the
saddle. He climbed on behind her and clicked his teeth to the
horse. They rode across the fields to a small stream. Trees grew
along it and Paul turned Patrick to follow the stream.
"Where are we going?" Patience asked.
"You'll see," Paul replied.
They trotted alongside the stream, sometimes through it. Water
splashed up in small tiny drops that glistened in the bright
sunlight. Paul stopped the horse beside a dense stand of trees.
He dismounted and helped Patience down. He led them through the
trees into a secluded clearing.
Paul loosened Patrick's saddle, replaced the bridle with a
halter, snapped a lead to the halter, and tied it to a tree. He
took a soft woolen blanket out of the saddlebag and spread it on
the ground, motioning for Patience to join him. "Now tell me all
about it," he said simply.
She did. In a tremulous voice she told him everything, the
drinking, how her father abused her mother, the awful things he
would call her. She broke down in tears as she spoke and Paul
held her close to comfort her. Then she told him about how her
father started abusing her years before, at first physically,
and then sexually. It shocked Paul that a man could do those
kinds of things to his family, and especially to his daughter.
She sobbed as she described the scene last night when her father
was kicking at her mother as she lay passed out on the floor.
"I thought he was going to kill her!" she wailed. "And when I
tried to get him to stop, he hit me. That's how I got the
bruises." She turned into his shoulder and sobbed some more.
Paul stroked her hair while holding her and whispered, "It will
be okay," over and over to her. He wasn't sure whether it was to
comfort her or convince himself.
He thought about what he could do. Patience couldn't go home,
not to that. He warred with his anger over a solution to the
problem. Anger wanted him to kill the man who hurt and violated
the girl in his arms. Rational thought told him there had to be
another solution. He kissed Patience's head and realized she had
fallen asleep in his arms. What about her, what would be best
for her? Getting her out of her home was the first thing, but
then what? She needed more than he could give her, more than
Thomasville had to offer. Madison probably had something, but he
wouldn't know where to go. He needed to talk to his parents.
Would they help? Yes, they would be as shocked as he was, when
he'd tell them what was happening. They couldn't not help, it
wasn't in their blood to turn away someone who needed help. Paul
felt Patience stirring in his arms.
Patience looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy. "Thanks for
the shoulder," she said as she kissed his cheek.
"You're welcome."
"Paul... I'm sorry you're caught up in this mess."
"Don't be."
She sighed deeply. "Do you hate me?"
"God, no, Patience, I love you." It just came out, but the
moment he said it, he knew it was true. He loved her and wanted
to protect her.
She had a look of shock on her face. "You love me? After all I
just told you, you love me? Why?"
"Because I do," he said simply. "I don't know why, or how, or
exactly when, but I do." He was certain of it then, and awed by
it.
Her hand reached up and stroked his face. He kissed her palm.
"You're amazing," she whispered. "Nobody's ever loved me."
"I'm sure your parents did, or at least your mother."
"Maybe, but if they did, I don't remember it. They certainly
never said it."
"I love you." She laughed, it felt so good to hear the words, to
know someone loved her. She hugged herself tightly to him, felt
him stroking her hair and back. It felt good to be held and
stroked. To be loved.
"Paul... would you kiss me?" He bent his head to hers, their
lips pressed lightly together. Neither was prepared for the
sensations, the thrills that pressing their lips together
generated. Patience gasped in wonderment and Paul broke the
kiss. He stared into her soft blue eyes then Patience pressed
her lips to his again.
The feelings were still there, still ran through her, excitement
and pleasure and love. She pressed her lips harder against him
and felt something else, a longing to touch him, hold him, love
him. She pressed tighter against him and Paul lost his balance,
falling to his back. She followed him, her chest pressed against
his, their lips moving against each other's. It was so different
with love, it felt so good, so pure. There was no panic, no
feeling of being forced. They broke their kiss and sighed. "So
different," she murmured. Paul's hand stroked her side, her
back, her hip. She caught his hand and brought it to her lips,
kissing it softly.
She felt safe here, with him, and she wanted more, to feel more,
to feel the difference between being loved and being used. She
placed his hand on her breast and watched his eyes widen in
surprise. "Please," she whispered. His touch was so light,
almost like a feather, as his fingers traced over her breast.
She felt her nipple harden when his finger brushed over it and
gasped in delight at the sensation. She had known only rough
mauling that brought only pain. His touch brought only pleasure
and an empty, aching feeling in the pit of her stomach that
demanded more.
She sat up abruptly and pulled her shirt over her head. She
reached behind and unfastened her bra, sliding it off her arms
and displaying her breasts to Paul. She lay back down beside
him, and Paul's fingers explored them. They were beautiful, so
full, soft and silky, her nipples hard pink buds. He bent his
head to her breast and kissed them. Patience gasped at the hot
liquid warmth of his mouth on her breast. His tongue teased
gently at her nipple, sending jolts of pleasure streaking
through her. It was heaven and she never wanted to leave. She
cupped his head to her breast, her fingers softly stroking his
hair, relishing the silkiness. Each stroke of his tongue took
her higher, made her crave more. She pulled his head from her
breast and kissed his lips hard. She felt his tongue press
against her lips. She hesitated for a moment and then opened her
mouth to receive it. Even that was different, no taste of
whiskey, no feeling of slime, only passion and pleasure, and a
need to feel everything.
She broke the kiss. "Make love to me."
"Are you sure?" Paul asked, but she was already removing her
jeans, kicking off her shoes. He hurriedly undressed beside her.
She lay back on the blanket, her arms open, waiting for him. He
had never done this before, but he knew what to do. He knelt
between her legs, guided himself to her opening, and slid slowly
inside her.
She expected pain, it hurt terribly when her father did it to
her, what she got was pure pleasure, a sense of fullness and
completeness. Her hands reached up and locked behind his head,
pulling him tight to her chest, her lips pressed against him. He
slid out and she moaned her displeasure, then he slid back in
and she groaned in pleasure. He made love to her slowly, gently,
filling her with love until they couldn't contain it anymore and
they burst into orgasm. They held each other tightly, not
wanting to move, to let go of what they had found.
Paul broke the silence. "I love you," he whispered. "Don't go
home, stay at our house until we can find someplace safe."
"I love you, too. I can't, if I don't come home, he'll come
searching for me. If I go home he'll never know."
"Let me take you to Madison. There must be someplace there where
you could go and be protected from him."
"What sort of place?"
"I don't know, I need to find out, just please don't go home."
"Do you... if I can get my mother to come will you take her
too?"
"Of course."
"Then I need to go home, I need to talk to her. Thursday we'll
go. Daddy always has meetings on Thursday and he doesn't get
home until late. You find someplace for us to go and let me know
about it in school, okay?"
"But he could hurt you, you'll be around him all that time."
"I know, but I have to try and help Mom. I'll be careful, I
promise." She started to get dressed.
"I don't like it," he stated.
She bent down and kissed him. "I know, but it will work out,
you'll see."
He tried to change her mind as they rode Patrick back to the
farm, but she wouldn't budge. He picked up his truck and drove
her home, stopping a block from her house so her mom wouldn't
see him dropping her off. She kissed him softly. They whispered,
"I love you," to each other, then she got out of the truck and
Paul left.
------
The lead auditor presented his findings to the board of
directors. The pattern was obvious to everyone in the room. All
but one of the farm loans renewed at the bank had been done at
substantially higher interest rates. Interviews conducted with
the farmers who had renewed told the same story. They didn't
have a choice. Bill Garvin had threatened foreclosure unless
they renewed at the rate he specified. Legal counsel informed
the directors his actions exposed the bank to lawsuits from the
borrowers. The board voted to demand Bill Garvin's resignation.
They called in their vice-president, Victor Gaines, and told him
their decision. Victor said he was going to Thomasville for
meetings on Thursday and would demand the resignation then. The
board agreed doing it then made sense.
Chapter 6
Paul drove home after dropping Patience off. His father stood at
the door of the shed, waiting for him. "Well?" he asked.
"I need to talk to Mom, too. Let's go in the house." They found
Martha in the kitchen. "I love her... my friend Patience...
she's a wonderful girl," Paul blurted out. "I don't know how to
tell you this, but here goes." He took a deep breath. "Her
father is abusing her physically and... sexually. He abuses her
mother, too. They're in real danger every day. I've gotta do
something."
"Jesus," Jim and Martha gasped together.
"Son, why'd you take her home, you should have kept her here,"
Jim said.
"I know, I tried to get her to stay, but she wanted to go home
to talk to her mother. I told her I'd take them to Madison to
get them away from him." Jim nodded.
"They should have a shelter for abused women there," Martha
said. "That's where you need to take them. I can find out, I'll
look it up in the library tomorrow."
"Thanks, Mom. I'm taking them away on Thursday."
"Good God, son! Why wait until Thursday? Take them tomorrow. You
don't want them around him any longer than possible." Martha
said.
"Patience says he has meetings all day Thursday. She feels
they'll be safe enough until then as long as they act normal."
"It makes sense," Jim said. "I don't like them being around him
any longer than absolutely necessary, but if he's tied up in
meetings, he won't know anything is up until you're long gone."
The next day Martha went to the library. She found a shelter in
Madison that took care of abused women and copied the
information for Paul. She gave it to him, saying "Make sure you
get them settled good, and then get yourself back here."
------
Patience waited until she heard her father drive off for work.
She found her mother in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a
drink in her hand. God, she's gone downhill fast, Patience
thought. "Mom, I need to talk about something important." Karen
looked up at her daughter. "Paul Sanders is going to take me
someplace in Madison where I'll be safe from Daddy. Mom, he said
he'd take you too, if you want to come. Please come, Mom!
Daddy's going to kill you if you stay!"
Tears welled in Karen's eyes. She knew her daughter was right.
Bill was getting more violent and it was only a matter of time
before he killed her. She nodded her head.
Patience hugged her mother tightly. "Oh, thank you," she said
joyfully. "We're going to get away from him, he won't ever be
able to hurt us again. I told Paul we'd leave on Thursday. That
way Daddy will be in meetings all day and we'll have time to
pack and get to Madison before he even knows we're gone."
"Thursday," Karen thought, "all we need to do is hold on until
Thursday." She sat the drink on the table and pushed it away
from her. "Thank you, baby," she whispered and hugged her
daughter back. "I love you." Patience gasped and hugged her
mother harder.
During the next few days, Karen cut back her drinking. She
couldn't stop totally - she got the shakes when she tried - but
she managed to limit herself to only a few glasses of vodka each
day. Bill noticed the improvement and felt he had finally found
a way to solve the problem. There was nothing like a good
beating to bring a woman in line. He had little to be angry
about at home, and the weekend passed peacefully.
Patience told Paul the good news in homeroom on Monday. At lunch
he told her about the women's shelter. They ate quickly then
took a walk outside. The Indian summer days had passed and the
weather was turning colder. They walked around the corner of the
school to get away from prying eyes. She pressed herself tightly
against him and they kissed, softly at first then with increased
passion. "I love you," Paul told her. It was still thrilling to
hear the words, and to say them. "I love you, too," she replied.
Paul held her against him and shielded her from the cold. "I
want to leave as soon as we can on Thursday."
"Daddy leaves for the bank a little after eight, then Mom and I
need to pack our stuff. Is eleven alright?"
"You can't be ready any sooner?"
"Not and pack our stuff. Don't worry, Daddy will be in meetings
all day, we'll be out in plenty of time." The bell rang and they
hurried back into the school.
------
Thursday morning started like any other day. Bill awoke at the
sound of the alarm and shuffled into the bathroom for his
morning ritual. Karen shut the alarm off and made his breakfast,
setting it before him when he came in the kitchen. He read the
paper while he ate, skipped the usual caustic comments, then
left for work. Karen sighed, relief washed over her. Patience
was already up and showering. Karen tapped on the bathroom door,
yelled a cheerful, "Mornin', Baby," and went to the attic to get
their suitcases. She dropped one off in Patience's room, carried
the other to her bedroom, and began to pack. It was going to be
a beautiful day.
------
Bill saw the bottle of Wild Turkey in the back of the car and
remembered he needed to refill his flask at lunchtime. He hoped
he would have time to do it then, the flask was almost empty. He
drove to the bank in what was a pleasant mood for him, and
thought about the things he wanted to discuss at today's
meeting. Victor Gaines was already there, waiting for him.
"Hello Victor, you're early."
"I made good time on the drive down. I hope you don't mind, but
this way we can get an early start."
Bill unlocked the door, and let Victor inside. "No I don't mind,
maybe we can take a long lunch."
"We'll see."
"Let me get some stuff off my desk and I'll join you in the
conference room."
"Okay."
Bill walked to his office. He slid open the drawer of his desk
and took out the flask, taking a quick nip before replacing it.
He gathered some papers and a few files and carried them to the
conference room. He sat down across from Victor. "So what do you
want to talk about first?"
Victor had thought about this moment the entire three-hour ride
to Thomasville, and hadn't come up with a gentle way to break
the news. How do you tell a man he's been fired without just
saying it?
"Bill, the board of directors has gotten some disturbing reports
about your bank. They have requested that you resign."
"What?" Bill shouted.
"The board has requested you resign," he repeated. He took a
letter from his briefcase and handed it to Bill.
Bill glanced at the letter. He saw the word resignation and it
was signed by the Chairman. "You, you can't do this to me," he
shouted. "On what grounds?"
"The audit of your loans uncovered that almost all of them have
been renewed at rates higher than is customary for these types
of loans. The auditors interviewed the borrowers and to a man
they reported that you threatened them with foreclosure if they
didn't renew at the inflated rate."
"But they were all late, the increased rate was perfectly
justified."
"On the face, yes it was, but these are farm loans, and the bank
has never forced penalty rates on farmers who are late with a
payment now and then. If that were it, you probably would have
gotten off with a reprimand, but there was more. The one loan
that should have been foreclosed on you let be, you haven't even
attempted collection. Josh Handelman hasn't made a payment on
his loan for months. When the auditors asked around about him
they were told the two of you were drinking buddies. What you've
done is open the bank up to all kinds of lawsuits from the
borrowers. For that, they've requested your resignation."
Bill was livid, "I won't do it. I demand to meet with the
board."
"I was told to tell you if you didn't tender your resignation
immediately, you would be fired for cause. There would be no
severance pay, no continuation of benefits, and any reference
provided by the bank would specify the reason for your
termination. Be smart, resign." He took another paper out of his
briefcase and pushed it over to him.
Bill snatched up the paper and read it. The fucking bastards had
even typed up his resignation for him. "You fuckers have been
looking for an excuse to get rid of me. You don't think I know
that? You waived this job under my nose, told me what a great
opportunity it was, all the time you were just waiting for a
chance to screw me." He grabbed his pen, scribbled his
signature, and tossed the paper to Victor. "You tell the fucking
board that if they were worried about borrower lawsuits the one
I'm going to bring against them will make those look like
peanuts. The whole fucking bank conspired against me, and it
will come out in the trial."
"You need to clean out your desk."
"Don't you tell me what to do, you fucking toady! I'll clean it
out when I'm good and ready. You tell those fucking pansies on
the board that I was cleaning up the mess Gary Walker stuck me
with. The only thing I ever did for this fucking bank is make
money. I was completely within my rights as loan officer to call
those loans. Fifteen years, for fifteen fucking years, I've
worked for this bank, and this is the way you treat me. I'm
going to have the fucking chairman's head on a platter after I'm
done, you just watch." He slammed his fist to the table and
stormed out.
He got some boxes from the file room, returned to his office,
and started packing. Fifteen fucking years. He had worked his
way up from teller, to junior officer, to loan officer. Fifteen
fucking years of kissing ass, for what? Goddamn them! In the
bottom drawer he saw the flask. He drank what little remained,
then tossed the bottle into the box and continued packing. When
he was done emptying the drawers, he marched back to the
conference room. Victor Gaines was standing there looking
uncomfortable. Bill slammed the key ring on the table hard
enough to leave a mark. "Here's the fucking keys," he shouted
then stormed back out. He put the box in the trunk of his car
and drove off, squealing his tires.
At first he drove around aimlessly, anger coursing through him
while he tried to come up with a plan of action. Then he spied
the bottle of Wild Turkey on the floor in the back seat. He
drove to the river and parked the car, taking long pulls at the
bottle. Goddamn them, his fucking life was wasted, he knew that.
The fucking bank had ruined him. He opened the glove
compartment. The metal of the Colt 45 gleamed at him in the
morning sunshine. His hand reached out and grasped it. He took
another pull at the bottle to get his courage up. Those
motherfuckers had just thrown him away. He'd be lucky to get a
job as a janitor after the hatchet job they would do on him.
Well he'd show them. He brought the gun up, pressed it to the
side of his head. His hand shook...
NO! Goddamn it, no! Why should he die first? The fuckers that
did this are the ones that need to die! He remembered Josh
Handelman telling him that Jim Sanders had gotten the farmers at
the Grange up in arms over his renew-or-else policy. That's who
started this mess. He sat the gun on the passenger seat and
started the car. He'd start at the beginning, then he would kill
himself. He drove toward the Sanders farm, filling the car with
chilling laughter. Jim Sanders was about to have his loan
collected in a big way. That's it; he would start at the
beginning, and make every one of the fuckers that ruined him
pay. Then the thought struck him and he whipped the wheel
around. The big Lincoln fishtailed through the U-turn and he
sped back toward town
He had to do this right. If he was to start at the beginning it
had to be Karen. His life had been shit ever since he married
her. The fucking cunt had to die first, then his whore of a
daughter.
------
Karen and Patience finished packing at ten-thirty. Karen was
pleased at Patience's happy, joyful mood. It was something she
hadn't seen in a long time. They talked about Madison and what
it would be like when they got there. Their suitcases waited in
the living room for when Paul would get there at eleven.
------
Paul threw his suitcase in the pickup truck. Martha came outside
with a basket. "Something for them to eat along the way," she
said smiling. Her hand caressed his cheek. "I'm proud of you,
son."
"Thanks, Mom."
Jim came over from the shed. "You be careful, you hear? There's
no telling what that man is capable of."
"He won't even be there, he's in meetings at the bank."
"Still, be careful." He tousled Paul's hair. "You call us once
you get them settled."
Paul climbed into the truck. "I will," he said as he closed the
door. "See you tonight." He started the truck and drove down the
lane.
------
The women heard the car pull into the driveway. Patience
squealed with excitement. It was finally going to happen, she
was going to be free of the monster. Their mouths hung open,
their eyes wide in terror as Bill Garvin burst through the door.
He took it all in with a sweep of his eyes. Their bags were
packed and they were dressed to go out. Patty should have been
in school. They were leaving him, the fucking bitches were
leaving him! "Bad newsh travelsh fasht, I shee." He waived the
gun at them. "Sh'it down," he ordered. The women sat quickly. He
walked over to Karen and backhanded her across the face as hard
as he could. "You were going to leave me!" he thundered. "You
fucking cunt, after all the thingsh I've given you, you were
going to leave me! I don't think so!" He brought the gun up and
leveled it at her head.
Paul had just turned onto the street where the Garvin's lived.
He saw the Lincoln sitting in the driveway. "Oh, God, no," he
moaned. His foot jammed the accelerator to the floor, then he
slammed on the brakes as he stopped in front of the house. He
jumped out of the truck and heard ear-splitting voices.
"Daddy, no!" Patience screamed. Bill wheeled around, "Shut the
fuck up, you stupid bitch!"
"Patience, run," Karen shrieked as she jumped at Bill. He
wheeled back around, pulled the trigger. The barrel of the gun
was inches from Karen's forehead when it went off. She slumped
to the floor surrounded by splattered blood and tissue. Patience
jumped out of the chair and ran toward the door. Bill saw her
and before another thought came into his head he pointed the gun
and shot. The bullet slammed into her back, sending her crashing
against the wall. Take that, bitch, he thought. He laughed and
brought the gun to his mouth. He opened his lips and pulled the
trigger. It was all over in less than a minute.
Paul was running for the door when he heard the first shot,
followed almost immediately by the second. "Oh my God," he
moaned. He burst though the door, no heed to the danger, when
the last shot went off. He saw Bill Garvin's head explode and
looked to the floor where he saw Patience lying in a pool of
blood. He dropped to his knees beside her, wrapped his arms
around her. "Patience, oh God, Patience," he moaned. Her eyelids
fluttered open. Her pale blue eyes looked up at him, they were
almost cloudy. She smiled a small sad half smile. "I love you,"
she gasped. Her hand squeezed his wrist softly and went limp.
------
Epilogue
He had dialed 911 immediately. The ambulance crew got there
quickly but it didn't matter. They were all dead. He held
Patience until the last minute, then the crew pushed him away
while they tried to save her life. The bullet that ripped
through her back had taken a piece of her heart. She didn't have
a chance.
The sheriff asked him questions and he answered to the best of
his ability, his voice a dull monotone, devoid of emotion. His
parents arrived and took him home. He went to his room, wanting
to cry but the tears wouldn't come.
He went to the funeral and stood by her grave as they buried
her, buried his love. Still the tears wouldn't come. He went
home and changed his clothes. He grabbed the tack from the shed
and whistled for Patrick.
He saddled the horse and rode him down the path to the river.
When they got to the open stretch he clicked his teeth and
Patrick took off in a gallop. He clicked again, and they were
flat out. He tried to ride away from the pain, the ache in his
gut that was tearing him apart. They approached the bend where
he first saw her and he eased Patrick into a canter. They
rounded the turn, and the path was empty. The tears came then,
great racking sobs, as he mourned the loss of his love.
------
"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not
love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I
have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all
knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but
have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor
and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain
nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not
boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking,
it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love
does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always
protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love
never fails."
1 Corinthians 13
..... But sometimes love isn't enough.
--
Jack of all Trades
E-mail: tradesjackofall@hotmail.com
My stories can be found at my website:
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/j/wwwoat
or
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Jack_of_all_Trades/
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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