Mara heads from Kentucky to Alabama in this chapter. I might have to convince her to give us a 'Roll Tide!' at some point. If she's not too busy ...
Don't forget, voting for the heroes begins next week!
Read Chapter One.
Read Chapter Two.
Read Chapter Three.
Read Chapter Four.
Read Chapter Five.
Read Chapter Six.
Read Chapter Seven.
Chapter Eight - August
Russ Farlow
Mara
hesitated, punched in 256, changed her mind, and laid down her cell phone
beside her on the porch swing. The last touches of pink lingered in the sky,
soon to be overtaken by darkness. She had a decision to make and it must be
tonight. The list had been stuffed in the side pocket of her purse, and she
pulled it back out, unfolding the crinkled edges, glancing at the name. Russ
Farlow.
He was
one of her earlier conquests. He had dark hair, cut football player short. She
saw him once again, in her mind, dark brown eyes, a strong chin, and the lean
muscles of a wide receiver. Attractive but not her type with his plain
middle-class family. As a freshman, he’d been easy and the dinner at Alton’s
steak house when she’d finished with him lingered. She’d known then that she
could use her looks for whatever she wanted.
Jenny
had found that he lived in Alabama now with his folks. How convenient. A quick
conversation with Mom, and she had Aunt Ruthie’s number. She just had to call.
“Mara.
Are you coming in soon?” Mom’s voice floated to her from inside the house.
“In a
minute.” She called back.
She
picked up the phone and dialed. 256-555-0987. Could she stand living in a hick
town with her redneck relatives? Stop it. That was the old Mara. Her relatives
were sweet country people, and Decatur, Alabama, was a sweet country town. Old
habits were hard to break. God, I need
some help here.
“Hello.”
“Hello?
Aunt Ruthie?”
“Why
bless my heart. Is this Mara?” The twang of southern goodness greeted her. “It
is, isn’t it? I haven’t heard from you in a month of Sundays.”
“Yes,
it’s me, Aunt Ruthie. How are you?”
“I’m
fine, child. How are you?”
“I’m
good.” How was she supposed to do this? “Aunt Ruthie, Mama said she talked to
you about finding me a job.”
“She
did. She did, child. And I hate to tell you, but the economy is just not too
good here in Bama. But I asked all my friends, and everyone at church, and I
found the perfect place for you.”
Aunt
Ruthie never could get to the point. “You did? What is it?”
“Right
outside city limits, not ten miles from my house is Blake and Lucy Leland’s
farm. Lucy used to live up around y’all, and then she got that nasty divorce
and remarried a farmer from down here.”
“And the
job?” Mara swatted a mosquito on her arm and stood. Time to get inside. She
moved through the backdoor and leaned against the wall of the utility room.
“Lucy
needs someone to manage their farm for a month while they travel to California
to see their new grandbaby. From what I understand, the job’s mostly bookkeeping
and computer stuff. I told them about you, and she said to offer you the job if
you called. You can start Monday. You know, farming is very high tech these
days. Not like when we were young uns. I remember when …”
“I
understand.” Mara had to stop her before she got started. Jenny said Russ lived
in the Decatur area, and this would probably be as close as she could get.
“Aunt Ruthie, tell them I’ll take the job. If you really don’t mind me staying
with you.”
“Mind?
Darling, we are so bored around here since Joe retired. I’m already fixing up
the room.”
“Thank
you. This means a lot to me. I’ll see you Sunday evening. I love you, too.
Bye.”
She
smiled. Bookkeeping and computers should be no problem. Only for a month. How
hard could running a farm be?
****
The heat
from the sidewalk worked its way through Mara’s thin-soled flip flops. How
could Alabama be so hot and humid? The Morgan County Café sat directly in front
of her, but the crowd forced her to park across the street in a lot. She
tiptoed the last few yards and pushed her way inside the restaurant.
Why
here? After settling at Aunt Ruthie’s, she’d talked to Lucy Leland who’d set up
a meeting with her foreman, who also helped out at the farm. She would get
final instructions from him and then meet at the farm tomorrow.
She
glanced over the crowd, mostly men from the nearby cat food plant. Many stopped
speaking and offered her their full attention. Mara was used to that.
Lucy
said the foreman would be sitting in the first booth to her right. She directed
her attention there, above the stares still fixed in her direction. No.
Couldn’t be.
Her body
tensed as her mind suddenly refused to work. Russ Farlow. Russ hadn’t aged too
much, except his hair had grown out of the athletic cut into a wavy mess. He
wore a neatly trimmed beard and the well-fitting Crimson Tide t-shirt showed
his lean muscles had bulked considerably. Russ was more handsome than ever
except for the lack of a smile on his face. No. it wasn’t a lack of a smile. It
was pure hostility.
This couldn’t
be happening. She wasn’t ready. Not now, not in this crowd of testosterone. Not
for his apology. He motioned to her, refusing to stand. She didn’t blame him.
Not after the way she’d treated him.
Mara
moved to the booth, but she didn’t sit. She’d been set up. “Are you Lucy
Leland’s foreman?” Aunt Ruthie owed Mara an explanation.
He
glared. “I’m Lucy Leland’s son. She and my dad divorced two years ago, and she
remarried. Mom didn’t give me your name. It’s a good thing, or I wouldn’t have
showed.” He stayed in his seat.
Practiced
or no, she could get the apology over with now. “May I sit down? Please?”
“I
guess. Mom and Blake have already left, and I’ll need your help tomorrow. At
least until I can find someone else.”
Mara
slid into her seat, studying his face as she did. Bitterness. Hatred. Disgust.
How could she have created such a mess in the short time they’d dated? Russ was
a good-looking man who should have plenty of women chasing him. Why did she
repel him so?
If he
didn’t soften up, tomorrow would not be a fun day. She would try the direct
approach. Kind of. “First, I’d like to apologize. I shouldn’t have kept dating
you when you were serious and I wasn’t.”
“Whoa.”
He threw out his hand. “You were playing me. It was all a game to you and the
others.”
So he
knew. Now what? “I was. And I’m still sorry.”
“I don’t
want to talk about it.” He spit out the words. “Tomorrow I need you to be at
the farm at seven o’clock. Wear old clothes and rubber boots if you have any.”
“Rubber
boots? I thought this job was bookkeeping and computer.”
“The
computer is in the control room at the chicken houses. And there’s a little
more to it than that.” His smile did not ease the sudden apprehension settling
over her.
“I’ll be
there.” Maybe she’d have more time to make amends there. What else could she
do? She couldn’t make him forgive her. She’d work as long as he’d allow before
going back home, to the next name on her list.
****
Mara
smoothed her South Carolina t-shirt, tucking it into faded jeans. After she’d
talked to Russ, she stopped at the local supercenter and purchased rubber
boots. Why you would need boots around all those fuzzy little baby chicks she
couldn’t fathom. Hopefully, she wouldn’t step on any. She searched the Internet
last night and educated herself on the technology of the chicken farm. Ready
for anything. She slipped into her boots and headed out to the Leland farm.
Aunt
Ruthie said it was right off the main road, and as she turned onto the gravel
drive and then right into the parking lot, she could only stare. Four large
chicken houses, each football field length it seemed, rose in the middle of two
barns. Giant feed bins lay halfway back of the chicken houses with two on each
side. Small outbuildings were in front of the feed bins. Must be the control rooms
Russ spoke of. She spied an older model beat-up Ford truck parked near one of
them and parked her small car behind it.
Russ
stood by one of the feed bins. She stepped out of her car as he bent down and
began to beat the metal bin down low with a rubber hammer. What in the world?
As she came close to him, she noticed a cane held tightly in his left hand, the
hammer in his right. “What’s wrong?”
“The
feed is hung up in the bin. Too much humidity.” He smiled, and this time it
appeared genuine.
Mara
smiled back. “Is this a bad thing?”
“Normal
in the summer. There. See how it’s running through now?” He pointed to the
transparent red plastic boot at the bottom of the bin and the feed running
through it into the pipes. “Goes through these pipes into all the houses.”
He
walked around the bin, a slight limp noticeable, until he reached her side.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. It was a shock seeing you after all these years.
How’d you end up here?’
“Have
you ever heard the term you reap what you sow? Well, I finished school, started
to work, and then lost my job.”
The
hammer fell from his hand at the same time his mouth fell open.
“Let me
get that.” Mara picked up the hammer and handed it to him.
He
tucked the hammer under his arm. “But you’re not here just for the job, are
you?”
She
smiled. “Well, I do need the work, but I came here looking for you. I just
happened to find you and the job at the same location. I’m asking every guy I hurt in college to
forgive me. You were the youngest guy I dated, a freshman if I remember, and I
dragged you from your sports world to my fashion shows and chick flicks. I
shouldn’t have dumped you like I did.”
Russ
leaned heavily on the cane as he hung the hammer on the outside wall of the
control room. “What’s done is done. Life can’t be relived.” He opened the
control room door and pointed to the small computer inside on a desk. “You’ll
have to go in each control room and record the statistics of each day into a
database. The dead, the culls, temperature, and feed quantity. Do you think you
can do that?”
“I can.”
Mara couldn’t take her eyes off the cane. “Did you hurt your leg?”
“I’d
rather not talk about it. We’ve got work to do.” He slipped on a pair of gloves
and handed her a pair. He then opened the door to the chicken house. Aroma that
reminded Mara of a thousand litter boxes poured into a trash can of three week
old garbage left in the sun assaulted her nose. Feathers and dust swirled in
the air as Russ strained to hold the door. Wood shavings littered the floor.
She shuddered.
“Get in.
The fans are running and the door is hard to keep from slamming.”
Mara
gingerly stepped inside. As her eyes adjusted to the dimmed light, she gasped
and moved back toward the door. Large chickens. No. Giant chickens. They
surrounded her, tilting their heads as they moved close to her pink and green
swirled rain boots. One large chicken pecked at her feet. “These aren’t baby
chickens. They’re all grown up.”
“They
used to be babies.” He spoke loudly to combat the squawks and squeals that
filled the house.
Another
thought leaped in her mind. “What did you mean when you said you had to record
dead and culls?”
“If we
find a really sick chicken, we have to get rid of him and as far as the dead,
look by that feed pan.” He gestured toward a lump of feathers. “Grab one of
those five gallon buckets there and put the chicken in it. Then we’ll take it
to the refrigeration unit outside for pick up to the rendering plant.”
Dead
chicken? Rendering? What had she gotten herself into? “I have to pick it up?
With my hands?”
“Uh, I
gave you gloves.” He grinned. “I’ll probably need your help all week. With
school starting back, this kind of laborer is hard to find. Here.” He steadied
his cane in the litter, bent a little and grasped the big bird by his feet. The
chicken’s head lolled to the side, and Mara jumped.
“He’s
alive.” She shuddered and hugged the wall.
“No,
he’s not. Put him in the bucket.” He handed the yellow feet in her direction.
She reached her hand out and grasped the bird.
“He’s so
heavy.” She held him away from her, and chunked him into the bucket. “Now
what?”
“You
have to walk through all four houses and look for more dead, leave the buckets
by the door, then enter everything in the computer. I’ll walk through the first
house with you, and then I have to go put out hay for the cows.”
“You’re
going to leave me here?” By myself, with
all these monster birds?
“That’s
why Mom hired you. I can’t do this alone.”
Mara
sighed, picked up a bucket in each hand, and followed Russ through the house.
He parted the red sea of chickens with his cane and a low whistle. Seems they
were used to him.
They
ended up with eight chickens and moved to the control room. He then showed her
the program for entering the information. She placed it in and wiped sweat from
her brow with the back of her hand. She had to do this three more times? “I
ought to wear shorts next time. It’s so hot.”
“Did you
feel the claws on those chickens you picked up? They’re nervy birds. One wrong
move and they will scratch you to pieces. Go on to the second house. I’ll be
back and see how you’re progressing as soon as I put out the hay.”
Mara
followed him to the doorway. He moved slowly toward his truck and left. What
about that limp? He was always so athletic. Maybe a football injury. She’d lost
track of him after she dumped him.
By the
time she finished the second house, there was no part of her that wasn’t
sweaty, dusty, feathery, and itchy. Still two houses to go. The musical notes
of her ringtone filled the air. She pulled the phone from her pocket as she stepped
outside.
“Hello?
Oh, hi, Aunt Ruthie.”
“How are
you doing?” Her aunt’s concern sounded through the phone.
“Not
bad. It’s hard work though.”
“What
did you think of Russ? He’s such a nice young man.”
Mara
sensed a matchmaking tone of voice. “He is. I’ve met him before.”
“You
have? Will wonders never cease? Where?”
“College.”
That’s all Aunt Ruthie needed to know. Mara walked toward the third house.
“So you
know about his leg?”
Mara
stopped outside the door. “No. What about it?”
“Well,
don’t say anything. I hear he’s real sensitive. When he was in college, he fell
in love with this girl, and when she dumped him, he was heartbroken. He quit
school, joined the army, then lost his leg from the knee down in Afghanistan.
Didn’t you notice his limp?”
Aunt Ruthie’s
last words were lost on Mara. No. A crushing pain forced the air out of her
lungs. It couldn’t be.
“Mara,
are you there?”
“Uh,
I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll talk to you when I get home this evening.
Bye.” She turned off her phone before shoving it in her pocket lest anyone else
should call. Tears drizzled unheeded down her cheeks. A loud squawking inside
interrupted her grief. Was something wrong?
Mara
pushed open the door of the house, stepped inside, and kept the door from
slamming. She stood in water. Water was gushing from a broken filter housing
amidst the PVC water pipe structure on the opposite wall. Chickens backed away
from the lagoon of water and dirty shavings. She had to get the water cut off.
Long feeder lines and water lines stretched across the house. Mara carefully
picked her way through, stepping high over the thin wires that stretched over
the top of the lines. She’d read on the Internet that the thin wires kept the
chickens from roosting on the lines. As she closed in on the wall, she traced
below the broken housing to a cut-off valve. That should stop it. Water
splashed on her as she turned the valve, and then it stopped. She’d fixed it
for now, but she had to find Russ.
She
lifted one boot-clad foot over the water line and balanced as her other foot
followed. However, she’d misjudged the height and her toe caught in the thin
wire, throwing her stability. Mara wavered back and forth before pitching
forward into the swamp at her feet. She landed on her hands and knees, dirty
chicken litter splashing on her face.
Her
gloves filled with water, and the wet soaked into her jeans. She jumped up,
ripping her gloves off, and then checked her phone. It was dry. The smell stung
her nose as the big chickens eyed her from a distance. Mara stumbled to the
door, pushed out, and sat on the concrete slab holding the feed bins. She wiped
her face with the neckline of her t shirt. She deserved worse. Look what she’d
done to Russ.
The
backfire of a motor jolted her to reality. The truck pulled to a stop a short
ways from her. The door opened, and Russ stepped from the truck, leaning on the
cane. A cane that no apology could wish away. And it was all her fault.
Tears
filled her eyes as she shoved her phone in her pocket and stood.
“What
happened to you?” Russ shook his head.
Her
tears flowed again as she stared at the cane. “There’s a flood in house three.
I turned off the water. Then I fell.”
“Are you
okay?” He shuffled into the control room and emerged with a roll of paper
towels. “Here.”
She
pulled off several paper towels and swiped at her dirty arms. “I’m fine. But
you—I didn’t know about your leg—I—” She stared at the cane. “I’m so sorry.”
His
smile vanished. “I don’t need your pity. I told you what’s done is done.”
“But
it’s my fault.” She cringed and closed her eyes as the full impact of her
childish college game gave full scope. What had she done?
He
reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Hey. Listen to me. I was tired of
college after one semester. But I couldn’t quit. My parents worked too hard to
put me through. So I used our breakup as an excuse to join the military. I grew
up there, became more than the partying kid I’d been. I hate my injury, but I’m
a different man in more ways than one. Really.”
“You
should hate me still. I don’t understand.”
“I could
never hate you, Mara. Because even if you did play me, God always knew the
direction my life would take.”
She
stared into those dark brown eyes and knew he was a different Russ Farlow.
“Let’s
get back to work. Too much to do around here to talk about the past. Move
forward, Mara, not backward.”
She
nodded. “Thank you, Russ.” That’s what the apologies were about. Confronting
the past and looking toward the future.
UPDATE:
VOTE FEBRUARY 5 THROUGH FEBRUARY 8 FOR YOUR FAVORITE HERO!
Voting opens at Noon (EST) on Feb 5.
Because we want YOU to choose the best hero for Mara, we're going to try to keep the author/creator of each chapter a secret until after the voting is over. If you know one of the authors, and pick out her chapter, please help us keep the secret. We want the hero chosen based on his personality and his chemistry with Mara, and not make it a contest between authors.
We're depending on you to help us spread the word!
Our authors are also offering some inside glimpses into the writing process, some interviews with authors, heroes, and even the publisher. And that Marji - she somehow got hold of Mara's journal, so you'll be able to read some of her thoughts as she goes through this experience. Fay snagged interviews with all the heroes too. Check out all the links below to stay on top of the latest.
Thanks for joining us in Mara's adventure - we hope you have a great time!
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1 comment:
I have a strong suspicion I know this author but my lips are sealed. This story is hilarious and compelling at the same time. I love Russ.
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