Chapter 5

Barb Clifton was pushing the old lawn mower through the high grass. As it had done several times since she started mowing the way to high grass, it stalled. She gave the mower a good kick and then tried to restart the cranky lawn mower.

She was about to leave the lawn for that bastard husband of hers. He was on his fishing vacation with his friends. Bard suspected that Hal took the new warehouse clerk that had been working with Hal for the past three months with him on the fishing trip. That skinny, bleached blonde little shit had been making eyes at Hal during the company picnic and Barb and Hal had argued about it for days afterward. The girl was nineteen and Hal often spoke about how good a worker she was and how she picked up on things so fast. On a hunch Barb had called Hal's office yesterday and had asked for the girl, Trudy. Barb had been told that Trudy had taken a one week leave of absence because of a family thing. Barb was sure that Trudy was with Hal and they weren't fishing; at least not for fish.

The lawn mower just wouldn't start again. Barb had tried at least ten times but it didn't even sputter. A tear started its journey down her cheek and she cursed the lawn mower again as she went to the porch and sat down. She glared at the mower hoping that the earth would open up and swallow the lawn mower from hell up so that she would never have to look at it again.

Barb put her face in her hands and began to cry. Hal had been very cruel lately and she had about enough of his shit. Last week at the Simpson's cookout, Hal had made a cruel joke that Barb was getting so big that he now had two wives for the price of one. Fuck that tiny dicked asshole. She hoped that he was having fun with his skinny blonde fishing partner. Barb smiled when she imagined Hal coming home with splinters in his dick from the skinny bitch.

She had to admit that she had gained about twenty-five pounds in the seven years that they had been married; but it was because of the dinners that she brought home every night from the restaurant where she worked. The chef would give her dinners that were fixed by mistake, dinners that just weren't fixed like the high class clientele wanted, or food that someone had ordered but had not even touched. She knew that the chef would sometimes fix her something because he knew that money was tight for her. Like most restaurant food, it was rich and fattening and wasn't meant to be the major part of anyone's diet. Even though Barb cut her portions way back she still gained a little weight. Hal never seemed to gain an ounce.

Money wouldn't be so tight if Hal ever grew up. He always had to try to prove that he was so macho. He was always buying another hunting rifle, fishing rod, different lures, more ammunition and god knows what else. Barb often thought that if it came to a choice between Hal's gun and fishing tackle and her; she wouldn't stand a chance. The guns and tackle were worth more to Hal than she was.

Hal was always working on his guns and tackle in his basement workshop when he was home. Fixing the house or taking care of the lawn had to wait until his guns or tackle didn't need to be cleaned, polished or worked on.

Barb wiped her eyes and pulled her shirt away from her skin. She was sweating like a horse. Her clothes were soaking wet from her sweat and she knew that she wouldn't want to be standing too close to anyone right now. Her BO would kill a man with sinus problems.

She looked up as the pickup truck pulled in front of her house. The truck was pulling a trailer that had a lawn tractor in it and she could see that there were other tools in the trailer.

Brent opened the door and got out of the truck, "Hi Mrs. Clifton. It looks like you need some help."

Barb tried to perk up a bit, "The damn lawn mower just gave up the ghost. Hal is on a fishing trip and he didn't get to the lawn before he left. I'll just have to wait until he gets back and see if he can fix the lawn mower from hell."

"I just came from doing a lawn," Brent said, "Push your lawn mower into the shed and I'll get the tractor off of the truck and give the lawn the once over. It should only take a half hour or so. You don't have that big a lawn. This tractor mower is forty-eight inches wide."

Barbs heart jumped; the lawn was going to get cut, "I can't let you do that. Hal can get it when he gets home."

Brent headed for the truck, "Conversation's over. You'll have to call the police and have me arrested if you want to keep me from cutting the lawn."

Before Barb could get off of the porch steps, Brent was getting the tractor off of the trailer. He started the tractor and pulled into the driveway and shut the engine off. His father had taught him that you checked the equipment before you began to use it. Any maintenance items that needed to be taken care of were done first and all of the vital fluids were checked and topped off if necessary.

Barb walked over to him, "If you insist on doing the lawn I guess its okay. While you're doing the lawn I'm going to grab a fast shower. I smell like a horse."

"Take your time Mrs. Clifton. I have my trimming tools with me so I'll soon have your place the envy of the neighborhood."

Barb smiled, "I guess that I should ask how much you're charging."

" I already made my money on the commercial job I just did," he lied, "This lawn isn't that big. If I charged you a dollar I would be stealing from you."