Chapter 4: Consequences

The directory read Dr. Eugene Kent, MD, PsyD, FAACP, ABPP.

Vince sat alone in the clinic waiting room, ignoring the magazines on the small table beside him. A sign warned him that no pets were allowed, so he left Bandi in the truck with a verbal warning to lie down and be a good doggy. She seemed to accept his words with a dismissive sweep of her tail as she settled on the passenger seat, where she had arranged his heavy coat into a suitable nest.

While waiting, he reflected on his conversation with Theresa, which ultimately swayed him to see the psychologist. She insisted on recording multiple visits to confirm his emotional damage and treatment-seeking, brushing off his protest about finances and assuring him they would be taken care of.

Over the weekend, she drew up the divorce papers and carefully reviewed them with him to address his many concerns. After reviewing his clandestine surveillance findings, she firmly insisted on not supporting the annulment. When he asked why, she explained the terms of their demands. She worded the petition, citing egregious and harmful behavior by his estranged wife and her affair partner, leading to emotional trauma and psychological impairment. She detailed how Kelly’s disregard for his emotional health caused severe mental impairment, directly affecting his ability to function in society. She demanded monetary compensation for medical treatment, lost wages, and personal growth.

“I’m just getting started,” she assured him confidently. “Another reason for pursuing divorce is a smooth segue for litigation against her, her lover, and their former employer.” She assured him they had sufficient grounds to serve his spouse immediately. He sensed her enthusiasm as he signed the papers.

“Mr. Hargrove.”

He glanced up to see a heavyset balding man in his late 50s nearby, wearing creased slacks, a loose-collared shirt, and a cardigan vest. His voice was soft and smooth, exuding welcome and kindness.

Vince stood and shook the man’s hand.

“Eugene Kent,” the man said with a warm smile. “Call me Gene. How should I refer to you?”

“Um—Vince.”

The man gestured toward an open doorway. “Please, come in.” He led the younger man into a room more suited for social gatherings than an office. A desk was tucked in a corner, but the doctor indicated a U-shaped arrangement of love seats around a coffee table. They sat across from each other, and the older man took up a clipboard with a Bic pen.

Vince felt awkward and shifted uncomfortably in the plush seat. He tried to ease the feeling by glancing around the room. Fortunately, the doctor took the initiative and put him at ease by controlling the dialogue.

“I spoke with Mrs. Argyle about your case and the circumstances of your relationship with your estranged spouse,” he began. “Before we discuss causal relationships or consequences of her temerity—I want to discuss the events that led to the loss of your younger brother.” He paused and studied the younger man. “Tell me about your relationship with Phillip growing up. Try to reflect without the burden of foresight—”

Vince was surprised that nearly two hours had passed by the time he returned to his vehicle and opened his door, allowing his overjoyed companion to jump out and relieve herself on the grass. While she explored the lawn and sniffed at the shrubbery, he contemplated the visit and how he felt after his first counseling session. He didn’t feel particularly enlightened or rehabilitated, but he was no worse for the experience.

“I’d like to meet with you again soon and continue our sessions at least twice a week,” Dr. Kent advised. “We need to demonstrate a consistent and measurable commitment to your rehabilitation. I will prepare a clinical summary of your visits for your attorney without divulging anything sensitive or private.”

Vince provided his parents’ contact information and decided to call and forewarn them.

“Hello?” his mother answered the phone. Her voice sounded sad and withdrawn, and he longed to feel the warmth of her hug and the smell of her fruity body spray.

“Hi, mom.”

“Vince?” Her voice caught in a gasp, and he heard her inhale sharply. “Oh, honey! It’s so good to hear from you. How are you? How have you been?” She began tripping over her words. “You aren’t in trouble, are you?”

“I’m fine, mom,” he assured. “Just wanted to check up on you guys and give you a heads up.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful—” she paused. “What do you mean?”

“You better sit down, Mom,” he said humorlessly and started his truck, driving back through town toward the highway.

Adding the front and back doors was the final step in enclosing his new home and sealing the interior from the elements. He still had much more to do before it was habitable, but now he had adequate storage to keep his belongings safe. He planned to rely on wood to heat the cabin during winter, so he started looking for a suitable wood stove. He had enough lumber and materials to lay the foundations for the porches.

He was setting and leveling the deck foundation blocks in front of the cabin when Bandi appeared, getting underfoot and dancing about as he tamped a block. Normally, she was quick to demand his attention, but when he glanced down, he noticed something in her mouth as she perched proudly on her haunches. Her tail swept the packed dirt, and she bobbed her head insistently.

“What do you have?” he asked curiously. She rose and dropped a baby bunny into his gloved palm. “What in the ever-loving—?” he exclaimed. She barked and dashed away, disappearing into the woods like a salt-and-pepper blur. “Seriously?” He called after her as he stood and regarded the tiny creature. It was not much bigger than a kitten, and its rapid panting indicated it was alive. It had soft fur, and its eyes blinked rapidly as if in shock.

‘Jesus!’ he thought as he looked around the clearing. He spotted an empty five-gallon bucket and grabbed it. Warm from his labors, he doffed his thick flannel outer shirt and stuffed it in the vessel before depositing the animal. He felt a nudge against his leg and glanced down to find his excited companion dancing around his feet. “Are you for fucking real?” he demanded as he reached down to have another furry bundle deposited into his hand. This one was off-white with black spots. Before he could object, she was off again. He checked the bunny for injury, but it seemed unharmed other than an excessive amount of slobber and a racing heart. He placed it with its sibling in the bucket and returned to his block. Less than a minute later, he heard Bandi loping towards him through the undergrowth. Her jowls were full of white fur, and she placed a third bunny in his waiting hand. This one was pure white with blood-red eyes.

“Are you done?” he demanded crossly as she sat beside him, proudly wagging her tail. She gave him a near-silent ‘huff’ in response.

When Shannon arrived at the shelter the following day, he was waiting outside his truck with the orange bucket by his feet. Bandi danced around him excitedly as she drove up and dashed to her door after she parked.

“What’s up?” she greeted.

He picked up the bucket and carried it to her. She glanced inside and raised an eyebrow. “Bunnies?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Your dog found and brought them home yesterday.”

“My dog?” she retorted with a wry grin. “Nice try—” she leaned over the bucket to study the babies carefully. “Seriously, what do you expect me to do?”

“You run a shelter,” he argued. “Take them and—”

“Whoa!” she interrupted, holding her hand up. “It’s a shelter for dogs and cats, not rabbits—” she reached in and pulled out the white one. “This one’s albino.”

“Well, I can’t keep them,” he grumbled. “What am I supposed to do with a litter of baby bunnies? They’re too small to eat.”

She was about to respond but snapped her mouth closed at his remark. “Look, I don’t run a bunny rescue here. The vet I contract only visits on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Why don’t you try Pet Smart?” She held the albino baby close and scratched its ears. “How did you come across them anyway?”

He shrugged and pointed at the black-and-white pup sprawling on the ground next to the bucket, panting. “She brought them to me one at a time,” he said. “God knows why she needed to steal baby bunnies from their nest.”

“They were probably abandoned, or their mother was killed,” Shannon remarked. “This one might be the reason for abandonment.”

“Because it’s albino?” he exclaimed. “Harsh.”

“That’s nature,” she said, placing the baby back in the bucket and heading to the main doors with her keys.

“What do they eat without mom?”

“Probably newborn kitten formula,” she replied. “I dunno. We have some inside.”

He carried the bucket and followed her into the lobby while Bandi dashed ahead, pushing the swinging doors aside to greet her old friends.

Several minutes later, Vince felt foolish holding a toy-sized baby bottle of formula for a tiny furry bunny who voraciously sucked at it. Shannon had the other two animals and fed them simultaneously with an experienced hand.

“It’s good you brought them in when you did,” she said. “They’re starving and dehydrated.”

They both looked up when the back door opened to admit one of the volunteers. It was the younger girl who lived with Shannon.

“What’cha doin’?” the brunette asked, hanging up her coat and bag. Her eyes brightened as she stepped over. “Bunnies!” she whispered excitedly, keeping her voice down to avoid startling them. The babies seemed indifferent to the loud barks, howls, and mews.

“May I?” she asked eagerly, holding out her hands.

Shannon handed off her burden and started the morning breakfast routine.

“Where did you get them?” she asked with a motherly expression as she fed the two tiny creatures.

Vince explained the odd story, and Michelle looked astonished. Meanwhile, the black-and-white pup followed Shannon around the shelter as she prepared food for the guests.

“Why didn’t you go after Uncle Gordon and Aunt Kathy for damages?” he asked at the dining table in his old home. His parents and sister Cassidy sat with him, enjoying hero sandwiches for a late lunch. His mom reluctantly allowed Bandi into the house but drew the line at the apple box with the three bunnies, relegating them to the garage, where Cass hovered over them until called in to eat. Vince’s furry companion chose to lay on the cool linoleum beneath the table.

“Have we not suffered enough without bringing it all backup?” his mom replied sadly.

“Nothing will bring Phillip back,” his father agreed.

“I know,” he retorted. “But they destroyed our lives.” He put his unfinished sandwich on his plate and picked the meat out, slipping the cuts under the table. “My attorney is figuring out a list of damages to seek money from Kelly and her cheating boyfriend. I don’t know the amount yet, but she is considering all the work I missed because—”

“Because you quit your job and ran from your responsibilities!” his father interrupted. “What has that gotten you?”

“Bill,” his mother interjected, touching his arm.

“No,” Vince answered. “I can see how you might feel that way, Dad.” He sat back and pushed his plate away. “You’ve worked the same job for over thirty years. It’s all you know. You live a cookie-cutter life and let the tragedy and heartache roll off your shoulders as if nothing matters. You achieved your dreams of graduating high school, attending college, passing your CPA, and never wondering how life might have been otherwise.” His tone was thick with condescension. “Well, that didn’t work out for me, did it?”

“Vincent—”

“No! Wanting the best for your family is one thing, but sitting back and letting their dreams get ripped away because of a sick little girl,” he snarled. “Because of her, Phillip is gone, and everything I had dreamed of is destroyed. While we paid the consequences, she continues living without repercussions. Her mom and dad will ensure her future.”

“We’re not discussing this at the table!” his father snapped. “I’m not taking legal action against my brother for his daughter’s actions!” He stood and gazed at his oldest son. “And neither are you!”

“The hell you say!” Vince replied gruffly. “I’m dealing with a divorce and lawsuit against the hospital,” he slid his chair back. “If Terri finds grounds for me to seek damages from Gordon and Kathy, I’m taking steps.”

“Why?” his mom cried. “How can we put this behind if—”

“I can’t put it behind me!” he yelled. “Is that all you want? To forget?”

Cassidy surreptitiously got up from the table, took her plate and glass to the sink, rinsed them, and put them in the dishwasher. Instead of hovering around the angry adults, she slipped out to the garage to play with the bunnies.

“I forbid this!” his father retorted. “Gordon and Kathy have been through enough. Can you imagine the terrible pain and guilt they are suffering?”

“Bullshit!” Vince shot back. “If your fucking brother hadn’t been such a pompous dickhead that night, Phil might still be alive—” He closed his mouth when his mother went pale.

“That’s enough!” her husband demanded, stepping behind her and touching her shoulder protectively. “Just go!”

Vince sprang to his feet and stormed out of his old home with Bandi at his heels.

He spent the weekend at the cabin, putting round slabs along the exterior to protect it from the elements. The late summer weather was agreeable. Attaching the siding took most of the day before he returned to framing and covering the front porch. He ran out of material before completing it, but he was loath to head back to town, expecting hostile and urgent messages and texts when he returned to a service area.

His concerns were confirmed Monday morning when he arrived at the Red Apple diner and retrieved his phone from the glove box. Seven of the two dozen messages were from his parents, which he gruffly deleted. Shannon asked about the bunnies he left with his sister. Cassidy’s friend from 4-H and FFA and was excited to take them in. He texted her a quick message and promised to call later. There were two messages and a text from the Argyle law firm asking him to call or stop by to go over some more legal paperwork and to inform him that the divorce papers had been sent overnight delivery the previous Friday, as discussed.

The remaining eleven messages were from a 209 Area code, which included Modesto, according to a quick Google search.

“Ah, yes,” a man’s nasal voice spoke, “This message is for a ... Mr. Vincent—” There was a long pause, “—erm, Hargrove. My name is Edward Clemmons, and I am with Wilbert, Cox, and Associates. We are representing the interests of Mrs. Kelly Johnson-Hargrove in the matter of your marital dissolution. We would appreciate speaking with you regarding the petition you served our client. Please contact us at—” he rambled on for almost two more minutes after providing the phone number and repeating how eager they were to hear back from him at his earliest convenience.

Terri advised him that they might try to contact him to settle the action without her influence. “If they try to contact you, tell them you have retained legal counsel, and they should communicate through me,” she said. “They know the rules and the repercussions for not following them.”

“What if she calls?”

“She will,” the attorney replied. “And it will also be against the advice of her counsel. If she attacks you verbally, she’ll hurt her case. Keep notes of your conversations with—”

“Can I record them?” he interrupted.

“Sure, but ... doing it without her knowledge could complicate our case if and when we go to court.”

“But voicemails are recorded,” he insisted.

“And with the caller’s consent. If you want to record your conversations, use an app that clearly states so at the beginning of your discussion. No ambiguity here, Vince.” Her voice was stern. “And one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Absolutely no contact with her. I’m talking face-to-face. Everything goes through me.”

“Copy that.”

“YOU MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE!” Even with the volume down, his ear stung from the harsh intro to the first of several messages from his ex. He was glad he was still in his truck instead of the diner, where others might’ve overheard her rant. “How, fucking, dare you? First, you run away like a scared little bitch in the night, and then you throw away any hope for a peaceful separation by filing for divorce?” Her voice was hysterical. “I don’t know how you can even afford a two-bit, no-name, piece of shit lawyer to represent you—but if you think for one goddamned second that you can stand up to my daddy’s legal team—” he held the phone a hands width from his head as he scratched Bandi’s ears. The long-haired pup was perched in his lap, gazing excitedly through the windshield at the lit-up diner. Her tail swished, and she pawed the steering wheel excitedly when she recognized the silver-haired Abby.

“I’m gonna fucking destroy you for what you put me and Brian through!” she declared. “You should’ve never brought him into this, you fucking dickhead! You have no idea who you’re fucking with! But I promise you, you’re about to find the fuck out!”

He grunted and saved the message before perusing the next few, which were fiery and devoid of sadness or contrition. He saved each of them, including several from her law firm, before stepping out of the cab and heading into the restaurant.

Abby looked at him astonished before whistling, “Dayum, son!” she cooed. “You clean up nice!”

“Two-bit, eh?” Terri smirked as she listened to the messages again. “If she wants to drag Daddy into this, that’s on her.” She jotted down her thoughts on her legal-sized notepad. “If he’s financing her legal fees, he can help with the damages, too.”

Vince sat across from her in her subtly illuminated office. “So, what do I do?”

She didn’t answer for a minute as she forwarded his voicemails to another number. It was a transcription service she used to authenticate and corroborate conversations. “You go about your business and continue with your therapy sessions,” she advised. “If she or her attorneys try to contact you again, let me know, and I will file an injunction.” She referred to her notepad and then turned back to her computer. “I had a wonderful talk with Dr. Kent, and I appreciate you asking him to set aside patient-client privilege. He was forthright in his initial summary, and I was able to use his findings to formulate a formidable set of demands.” She typed on her keyboard and then glanced sheepishly at him. “Forgive my poor manners. Help yourself to some coffee if you like.”

He shrugged and got up to make himself a cup, making one for her too — adding creamer and sugar in amounts he guessed from watching her. She nodded appreciatively as she typed and clicked.

“This is my initial strategy for seeking damages from your spouse,” she said after he sat down. A blank monitor faced him from behind the tall screen she worked on. It lit up and displayed lines of legalese. He made out the itemized list of damages, each identified by a solid black square. The top one was a Loss of Wages of $85,658.27. He sat up and regarded her with raised eyebrows. Over a dozen bullets and a highlighted frame at the bottom totaled the damages at over $750,000!

“Holy shit!” he gasped. “There’s no way she has that kind of money, Terri.”

“She’s only one of the three defendants in the civil case,” she replied. “The facility and her affair partner are equally liable.”

He gazed at her over his cup, thoughts jumbled as he tried to accept the revelation. “Do you—?” he paused, deciding if he sounded stupid for asking. “Do you really think we can collect anything?”

She looked back at him and nodded, “The outcome will be decided in the settlement negotiations,” she said. “Arbitration favors the injured party in these cases. And if they choose not to settle, the court’s decision is uncertain. I’ve only litigated one claim, and the award exceeded my expectations.” She turned to the screen and nodded. “If the lawyers are as good as your ex says, they’d be very foolish not to settle.”

“So, how much are we talking about?”

“Realistically?” she clarified. “After deposing Dr. Kent, your union rep, and you—don’t worry. If necessary, I’ll coach you through the process—” She sipped her drink. “I won’t settle for less than $500,000.”

Vince whistled. He couldn’t wrap his brain around that much money. “Damn! We need to redo our agreement.”

She glanced back at him guardedly, “How do you mean?”

He sat forward and placed his cup on the desk. “Look, Mrs. Argyle,” he said tentatively. “When I first walked into your office, you were happy to help me for free.”

“Still am—”

He shook his head. “No. Back then, we were just notarizing my signature on an annulment. This is way bigger.”

She smiled, “Vincent, I appreciate your candor. But our agreement is iron—”

“Then rewrite it. Make it at my insistence,” he replied firmly. “You’re not doing this for free.”

She studied him with an unreadable expression, so he charged ahead. “Mrs. Argyle, you have a family—a husband and a baby—”

She beamed at him and rubbed her tummy, “And another one on the way.”

“Whoa!” he grinned. “Congratulations. This is more reason to take your fair share of whatever comes out in the wash.”

She curled her nose at him, avoiding eye contact. “That’s really sweet, but—”

“I insist!” he interrupted. “Whatever the going rate is.”

She studied her notepad and fidgeted with her pen.

He took his empty cup to the cabinet where the coffee maker sat. “I need to pick up supplies before my appointment with Dr. Kent,” he stated, sensing an opportunity to evade an awkward situation. “I’ll be back in town on Wednesday at the latest. I have to help Carl cut logs and finish the bill of materials for my back deck.”

As he entered the reception area, he saw Melany at her desk facing him. With tears in her eyes, she stepped over and hugged him tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Not much happened with the divorce or civil lawsuit as summer turned to fall. He got many letters from the California law firm, but he gave them to Terri unopened as instructed. They tried to serve him with a deposition summons, but since he was well beyond the beaten path, they had to send it to his lawyer, who declined on his behalf.

He kept his word with Elaine Hoffmeyer, the IBEW Local 125 apprenticeship coordinator, and completed all his academic and continuing education requirements to maintain his apprentice license. On his birthday weekend in August, he passed his Journeyman examinations by a wide margin. He earned a certificate but wouldn’t get the credential until he returned to work. With the cabin mostly finished, he felt a guilt-driven urge to rejoin the workforce, but his lawyer advised him to remain unemployed until the divorce proceedings were concluded. Kelly’s legal team kept stalling by filing motions for continuance.

By late September, the temperature had dropped significantly, and snow began to fall periodically, melting almost as fast as it accumulated. He completed enough of the interior of his cabin to move his bedding and furnishings and began sleeping in it. He furnished his bedroom with a queen-sized bed and found a matching dresser and nightstand at the Habitat for Humanity ReStore. He also got an antique Monarch wood-burning kitchen range with an oven and enough surface area to cook a full meal for a large family.

To solve his water needs, he set up a 1000-gallon gravity tank on a twelve-foot base and buried a supply line deep below the frost layer to the nearby creek. He winterized above-ground fittings that would be exposed to frigid winter conditions. The refrigerator operated on propane supplied by a trailer-mounted 500-gallon tank.

To celebrate his personal achievement, he invited Shannon over to cook her ‘steaks and beans’, as he wryly put it. Over the last few months, their friendship had warmed to a point where he hesitantly asked her during lunch in the shelter parking lot if she was involved with anyone.

Without missing a beat, she swallowed and shook her head, “Nope. You wanna hook up?” Her candid response made him blush, and she jokingly punched him. Even in jest, he felt the strength in her jab.

Sometimes, he noticed how fit she was when she wore lighter clothes or exposed her midriff. Once, she joined him at the sawmill to help him and Carl rip lumber for an order and gather more material for his deck. She wore tight cargo shorts, a tank top, and ankle-high boots. The older mill operator was smitten, and when she handled herself like an experienced lumberjack, Vince felt self-conscious. He watched her manipulate logs onto the staging carriage with a peavey, and her exposed skin glowed with sweat. He marveled at her toned arms and legs. In a word, she was ripped!

She glanced at him seriously when he didn’t respond to her quip. “Hey, that was a joke,” she added quickly, sensing his unease. “You, okay?”

He nodded without making eye contact, “Yeah. I just didn’t want to ... cause any more problems, you know?” He took a drink. “It’s not like I don’t have enough of my own—”

“I wasn’t prying, if that’s—”

He sat up suddenly and faced her with a troubled expression, “No! I know you weren’t. And I know I haven’t told you much about—” He paused when she touched his arm.

“Vince,” she stated firmly. “I get it. You don’t talk much about yourself. But I’ve got eyes and a brain. I’m not totally clueless here.”

“Oh?” he replied with a hint of challenge. “What have you learned about me that I haven’t discussed?”

She took another bite of her sandwich and chewed thoughtfully as she gazed back at him. They sat at a picnic table in the shelter’s back parking lot. She was perched cross-legged on the top in one of her long dresses while he sat beside her with his legs under the table. Bandi was sprawled out in the shade at his feet.

“Well,” she began, “If those decals (she pronounced it ‘deckuls’ like a Canadian) on the back of your truck are legit, then you are a union worker or something,” she said casually. “And I remember seeing all those texts and handbooks piled in the back seat for some Journeyman Electrical stuff. By the way—I could really use an electrician. The books are all gone though, so—” she left it unsaid.

He gave her a thin smile and nodded. “I’m a Lineman with CBC and a member of the IBEW Local 125,” he admitted. “But I haven’t worked for most of the year because of—” He paused and swallowed nervously. “I’m married,” he blurted.

He waited for her to speak and glanced back when she didn’t.

She bobbed her head slightly as she finished her sandwich. He watched her wash it down with water. Her belch was worthy of applause. “Can you check our breaker panel in the back?”

His mouth fell open at her question, then he grinned, shook his head, and chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded, displaying a lot of leg. “You’re an electrician, right?”

“Well—kind of,” he replied. “But not that kind.”

“What kind is that?” she insisted, grabbing their refuse and empty bottles.

“Commercial and residential electricians—” he started, but she cut him off.

“What’s the difference? The breakers keep humming and popping for no reason. I think we need a bigger one. Come on, I’ll show you. It’s right over here.” He was stunned when she reached out and took his hand.

“It’s just,” he replied helplessly as she pulled him towards the building and pointed to the overhead wires running into the structure. “You’re dealing with a four-and-a-half kV supply.” He followed her into the shelter, where her guests barked and yipped. She indicated a gray metal box with several meters attached to the wall. He nodded. “And that is running maybe 480 volts.” He could hear it humming.

“So?” she replied, releasing his hand and placing hers on her hip.

“Shannon, I work with high-tension and super-tension wires and substations, like 33 kV to—” he gazed back at her curt expression and felt like he was making excuses to a teacher for not completing his homework. God! She was beautiful! “It’s a lot—”

She twisted her nose, and he noticed her freckles in the bright light. “So, you’re saying that yours is bigger?”

He laughed when he recognized the humor in her eyes and nodded with a grin, “Much bigger.”

“Hmph,” she snorted, turning to stare down at Bandi, who was watching her with her typical cool, intelligent expression. “And I suppose you’re on Daddy’s side?”

He chuckled. “Hey, don’t sweat it,” he replied with a knowing look. “Being in a union has its perks. I know a guy.”

The next day, after his appointment with Dr. Kent, he picked her up and took her to his cabin. The muddy road from frequent snow flurries made the trip take 45 minutes.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but everything you’ve told me about Kelly makes me think she’s a real cunt,” she commented during the drive.

He snorted, “I’m not defending her.”