I’d just asked her to come out to the barn and help me feed my horses then help Mom and me crate my pottery. She needed to step up. This had to end.

Thursday night, Mike, Dad and I had the talk with Fin about what had happened at Mike’s house even though he already knew something went down. Rees had also been there. Mike had talked with No alone that morning before school. With what he said to Fin, I figured he did well with No since what he said to Fin was good. Still, as I suspected, Fin looked to Rees. She nodded her head that she agreed with her Dad, something I suspected Mike had primed her to do. So Fin promised no retribution and if anything further went down in school or out of it, he, like No and Rees, would report it to Principal Klausen as well as Mike and me.

Rhonda and Mom had sat with us through this talk. Mom did it worrying her lip. Rhonda did it like she’d had an exhausting day, was camped out in front of not very good TV and zoned out, not taking anything in.

It pissed me off.

And now, after having a spat with Mike, I was in no mood for her shit.

“Rhonda,” I called and without her taking her eyes from the TV she asked, “Hmm?”

I drew in breath.

Then I walked to the TV and turned it off.

Her body jolted minutely and her eyes drifted to me.

“Dusty, honey, I was watchin’ that,” she told me something I already knew.

“You aren’t watching it anymore. You’re going upstairs, putting on a pair of jeans, some boots and a t-shirt. Then I’m teaching you how to feed my horses and how to muck out their stalls. When you’re done with that, I’m teaching you how to crate my pottery.”

“I can muck out your stalls, Dusty.”

This came from Kirby.

I turned to the doors to see Kirb standing there and Fin walking down the stairs.

That was my gentle Kirby, taking his Mom’s back.

“You’re on a tractor today,” I reminded him.

“I can join Gramps and Fin later,” Kirby replied.

“You can, honey, and it’s sweet of you to offer, but you aren’t,” I told him.

“What’s goin’ on?” Fin asked, his eyes moving from one to the other of us.

“Aunt Dusty needs a hand with the horses,” Kirby told his brother. “I’m gonna help her out with that before I hit a tractor.”

“Kirb, love you, babe, but you know that’s not what we’re talking about,” I stated gently and looked at Fin. “I’m asking your mother to help. But this is between me and your Mom so you guys go on out to the pole barn. Dad’s already out there.”

Neither moved much. Kirby shuffled and Fin’s eyes cut to his Mom.

“You helpin’ Aunt Dusty?” he asked.

“I’m thinkin’ I’m not feelin’ up to it today,” Rhonda replied, her voice soft.

“Yeah, and you weren’t up to much yesterday or the day before that or the week before that or the fuckin’ month before that,” Fin clipped, his tone hard, his face harder and I sucked in breath. I figured he likely cursed but I’d never heard him curse at his mother.

“Fin –” I started.

“Finley, we don’t use that word,” Rhonda talked over me.

He threw out his hands as his eyes narrowed, “Oh, you gonna be a Mom now? Is that it? You’re gonna be a Mom now when for the last three months you been nothin’ but a zombie.”

Oh God. Fin was done. I could tell by his tone and the look on his face. His patience with his Mom, strained now for weeks, had snapped.

“Fin, honey, careful,” I whispered and Fin’s eyes sliced to me.

“Careful?” he asked. “You’ve tried careful, Aunt Dusty. Gram tried careful. Gramps tried careful. It isn’t working.”

I opened my mouth to reply but Rhonda straightened up to sitting and got there before me.

“Finley, you know it’s been hard on me,” she said quietly.

“Yeah?” Fin bit out. “Well, clue in, Ma. It’s been hard on all of us.” He threw his hand out at the last. “You don’t have a husband anymore. I get that. You know why I get that? ‘Cause I don’t have a Dad. We all lost him, not just you. And all sorts of shit has gone down all around you and you’re like, in a daze or somethin’, lettin’ it happen and not steppin’ up for the farm, for your boys, for anyone. Not even yourself. And you know what that feels like, Ma?” he asked but didn’t wait for her to answer. He laid it out. “It feels like we not only lost our Dad but also that we lost our Mom. And the first one sucked big time. You addin’ the last seriously fuckin’ sucks. Dad didn’t have any control over dyin’. But you? That’s a different fucking story.”

Rhonda lifted her hand to her throat and whispered, “I can’t believe you’d speak to me that way. Your father would never speak to me that way.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But I bet, he was here now, he’d be as done with your shit as I am,” Finley returned then without another word and not allowing anyone to say one, he stalked out of sight.

We all stood there, frozen, silent.

After a while Kirby asked softly, “You want me to take care of the stalls, Aunt Dusty?”

I took in another breath and looked to him. “No, honey, get to the pole barn. We’ll deal with the horses.”

He looked to his Mom then to me then he nodded and moved down the hall.

I looked to Rhonda who still had her eyes aimed where Finley had been, her face paler than normal but it wasn’t blank. There was pain stark in it.

Shit. I didn’t want to hit her when she was down.

But I had to hit her when she was down.

“Rhonda,” I called gently and her eyes drifted to me.

“My boy just talked to me like that,” she whispered.

“Yes, he did,” I told her. “He’s dealing with a lot. He needs you now.”

It was like I didn’t speak.

Still whispering, she said, “He said the f-word and the s-word. Repeatedly.”

Honestly? That was all she took out of that? Fin cursing?

“He was angry, Rhonda,” I pointed out the obvious.

“We don’t say those words in this house.”

God! I wanted to shake her!

“Rhonda, look at me,” I ordered.

“I am, Dusty,” she replied and she was.

But I still said, “Really look at me and listen to me, listen closely. Are you listening to me?”

She nodded.

I spoke.

“I know you’re suffering. I know you’re lost. But you have got to find yourself. You have got to dig down deep and pull up the strength to move on from Darrin’s loss. I’m asking you to do that for you. I’m asking you to do that for your sons. But mostly I’m asking you to do that for Darrin. I don’t want to be harsh but I don’t know how else to reach you. Fin was right. Darrin took care of you, he protected you from a lot but if he knew you were letting his boys swing in the wind like this, he would be disappointed in you. Even angry. And if you think about it and you’re honest with yourself, you’d know I’m right.”

She was even paler when I finished that and I hoped to God that I got through and she listened to me.

After what Fin said, I decided to leave it at that and finished, “Now, I have a lot to do and I need to start doing it. It would help me out a lot if you could get changed and meet Mom and me out in the barn. A lot, Rhonda. And I’m gonna point out I left my life to help take your back. The least you could do is scoop out some oats, shovel some horse shit and place some pottery in crates.”

Then, quickly, I exited the room.

As soon as I got outside, I dug my cell phone out of my back pocket and called Dad to give him a head’s up about Fin’s disposition and what went down. My beloved nephew didn’t need to be pissed as all hell and on a tractor with a farm grade rototiller on the back of it.

Then I got to the barn to see Mom setting out crates and filling them with the finely shredded straw I packed my pottery in.

Mom and I got down to work.

Rhonda did not join us.

* * *

My horses were fed. Their stalls mucked (by me). My pottery was crated. Dad and the boys were out on tractors. Mom was at Bobbie’s Garden Shoppe buying flowers. Rhonda was wherever Rhonda was. And I was at my wheel, Big and Rich singing, “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)” when she showed.

And she took me by surprise.

Hunter warned me, keep the music down, be aware of your surroundings. Did I listen?

No.

Therefore I found myself sitting, leaned forward, my hands forming a bowl while Audrey strode into the barn wearing a slim-fitting, pencil skirt, a shiny, satin blouse and a pair of stiletto-heeled pumps that even I, who the vast majority of the time wore cowboy boots, flip-flops or thick socks (when it was cold), would likely kill for.

How could a day that started out so fucking great turn to complete and total shit?

“Dusty?” she called as she got close.

Shit. Shit. Fuck.

“Audrey,” I replied.

“Can we talk?”

Jesus. Was she serious? Showing up at my family farm out-of-the-blue dressed like someone out of a TV show about women who spend their time drinking cosmos, having sex, talking about sex, shopping for clothes and bitching about men and she wanted to talk?

“Um…not to be a bitch or anything,” I tipped my head to my spinning wheel, “but I’m kinda busy.”

She hesitated then she walked to my radio and turned it down.

My eyes followed as she did this but my mind was thinking, yes again, Jesus. Was she serious?

I pulled in a very, very deep breath.

She moved close(ish).

“It’s important,” she whispered.

I reached down, turned off my wheel and sat up enough to lean my elbows into my knees, my head tipped back to look at her and I replied, “We met once briefly. I’m not certain we have anything to talk about but I am certain I have concerns about talking with you without Mike knowing it’s going down. And again, not to be a bitch or anything but I’m not comfortable with you showing up at my family barn without warning wanting to talk about something important.”

“I can understand that,” she replied but didn’t move.

“So, um…I have a lot to do,” I prompted her to take her leave.

“I won’t take up much of your time,” she stated instantly.

Jesus. Seriously?

“Audrey –”

“You must know this is hard on me,” she whispered and I blinked.

Hard on her? I didn’t show up at her house all of a sudden wanting to talk about something she had no clue what it was I wanted to talk about.

I sat up and tried for patience.

“Please understand, I’m very busy and whatever this is, I can’t do it right now.”

“I just –” she started but was cut off with a growled, clipped, very, very angry, “What the fuck?”

She turned swiftly and gave me an eyeful of my man prowling into the barn, his hard, glittering, angry eyes locked on Audrey.

Her showing was already bad. This was really bad.

“What the fuck?” he repeated even though he’d given neither of us the time to explain what the fuck was (not that I knew either).

“Mike –” Audrey started, lifting a hand toward him but he stopped three feet away, his eyes still glued to her and he interrupted.

“I thought that was your Mercedes. I didn’t want to believe it so I hoped it wasn’t. But here it is. It fuckin’ was. What in the fuck are you doin’ here?”

“I needed to speak with Dusty,” she answered.

“Audrey, honest to God, there is not one thing you need to speak with Dusty about.”

“You’re wrong, Mike,” she said quietly.

“Oh no, I fuckin’ am not,” he returned sharply.

“Please, if I can just talk with Dusty for a moment, it’ll only take a moment. Then I’ll be gone.”

“That’s not gonna happen. You’re gonna be gone in about two seconds and in those two seconds you’re not gonna say shit to Dusty.”

“Mike –” she began.

“Get in your fuckin’ car and go.”

“Mike, please –” she started again.

But he leaned forward, face still hard, eyes still glittering and now narrowed and he ground out, “We are not playin’ these games, Audrey. Not now. Not fuckin’ ever. Dusty is off-limits to you. Totally. Completely. She does not exist for you. Now get in your fuckin’ car and go.”

She did not get in her fuckin’ car and go, unfortunately.

She threw up both hands, exasperated, and declared, “You can’t imagine this is easy for me.”

“I don’t even know what this is,” Mike shot back. “And I don’t fuckin’ care.” He looked to me and asked, “You know she was showin’?”