Chapter 9

Barn Raising

The annoying tinny beep, beep, beep had me reaching above my head to silence the alarm. My G-Shock buckled around the brass frame of the bed, the source of the noise.

Our guest lay on my right arm. Dark brown hair, she snorted and turned, opening a chocolate eye. I pulled my arm free.

“Good morning,” Tanya said, her voice smoky and sleepy.

“Morning,” I croaked, my mouth dry.

My left arm traced the familiar back and ass on my other side. It felt like Groundhog Day, waking again with a different woman in my bed.

Even with bed head, the twenty-two-year-old singer looked good, her tits squished together as we eyed each other. I didn’t remember doing anything with her.

“No, you were a gentleman,” Tanya said, reading my mind, reaching under the sheet for my morning wood.

Damn, her warm hand felt nice. She had my attention.

Last night, the party wrapped up by 11:00, the band and us finished. On the way out to the Land Cruiser, slipping on my shorts, I told Sydney she was driving.

I wasn’t really drunk, just buzzed. A good excuse to let my sober daughter drive us home. Tommy had Gwen and Bethany with him and took the back seat.

A knock on my window. Tanya stood there, half-naked, holding a guitar case and purse. I opened the door.

“Can I get a ride with you?” she asked.

“Where can we drop you?” I said, giving her generous chest the once-over. Sweaty like the rest of us.

“Wherever y’all are going,” she replied, flashing a big white smile.

“Put your guitar in the back,” I said.

Tanya sat on my lap for the drive to our cabin, her sticky back resting against my hairy chest. My hands in her lap. Sydney only ground the gearbox a couple of times. Tommy and the girls were quiet in the backseat.

I laid down the law. Five-minute showers, two at a time, then to bed. Sydney and I went first.

We wet ourselves, washed each other with soft soap, and rinsed. I’d lost track of her for part of the evening. I slowed down after fucking Juliet, taking her to a table and talking for a while, enjoying the music and her company, before we rejoined the party on the dance floor.

Sydney, my “wife,” extended guest rights to Tanya, inviting her to share our bed. An old Viking tradition.

I cuddled with a girl on either side of me. Tanya was heading to Nashville to stay with her American dad, who had left her mother years ago, she said.

Above in the loft, I heard the now-familiar noise of Tommy rutting with his unofficial sister-wives. I didn’t initiate anything; Tanya was our guest, and I was tired.

Sydney played with my cock under the sheet while kissing my neck.

“Daddy.” She kissed my left nipple. Tanya moved closer, her hand covering my daughter’s as they stroked me.

“We have a busy day tomorrow,” I said, a lame excuse. Tanya’s breasts pressed against my side, “Fuck!” I’d grunted as I made a sticky mess in their hands, and closed my eyes, sleepy.

That’s what I remembered as I sat up in bed, the early-morning sun entering the bedroom. I needed coffee; breakfast was being provided at the barn raising.

I slapped Sydney’s backside. “Get up.”

“Tanya, you are always welcome here, we’ll always have a bed for you,” I said, meaning it, sensing something different in her, as I touched one of her breasts.

“Thank you so much! But I would like to help this morning, do more than just entertain. Do you have any work clothes I can borrow?” Tanya said, sliding out of bed.

“You bet. How do you like your coffee?” I asked. Sydney had turned over on her back.

“I’ve got clothes for you,” my daughter-wife said.

I had to pee like a racehorse.

“Tommy, Gwen, Bethany, get up. We’re leaving in thirty minutes,” I yelled at the loft, heading for the bathroom and leaving the door open.

Today was going to be a good day.

I stuffed the last of the delicious breakfast burrito into my mouth. Bacon, eggs, and potatoes, wrapped in a flour tortilla, and washed it down with orange juice.

“Sharon, that hit the spot,” I said to Mrs. Smith as I looked at the future community warehouse.

It was located across from the community center on the opposite side of the unnamed 3-acre park that included the athletics field.

A 5000-square-foot, Amish-style pole barn design with a 50’ x 100’ rectangular footprint. The poles of the frame had already been sunk into gravel and cemented. It would have an A-fame gabled roof and sheet metal siding.

The Amish barn raising scene from the 1980s Harrison Ford and Kelly McGillis’ movie Witness came to mind. It was a lot more time-consuming than it looked in the film.

Today, with the help of a small crane and power tools, they would finish the framing of the sides and roof. A special feature was an 800-square-foot underground vault, which had been excavated in the center of the barn and was now having finishing touches applied.

I found my kids standing with a small group of teenagers dressed for work in old clothes, with sturdy boots, stuffing their faces with food. Julie, playing the safety officer, checked everyone and did her best to ensure she wouldn’t have any patients in her clinic today.

Mr. Smith, Phil, invited them to gather around.

“You all know your assignments. We will work until noon, then take a lunch break and see where we are at.”

I looked at Tanya wearing a pair of my wife’s old cargo shorts and a tight-fitting T-shirt from Sydney, braless like every female here. Boots were also Heidi’s.

“I’m working with Jo and Beverly in the basement thing,” she said, relieved she wasn’t going up on a ladder.

The twenty-person framing crew is led by Carlos. Painting, siding, and other tasks were assigned to the remaining thirty community members gathered for the project. My community, young and old, worked on a project that would benefit us all in the long run.

Mr. Smith was speaking. “Pastor Jason, will you say a prayer, bless our work, and we’ll get started?”

A young man, a Presbyterian pastor, who with his wife was new to our community, stepped forward.

I looked at the morning sky, then bowed my head as Jason prayed. Thankful for all I had.