Chapter 11

Haley’s turn:

Almost out in the country. Well, actually, it still IS out in the country, except the city’s expanding, growing towards it. Our land. Not actually OUR land, but 3Sigma’s land, and since my Bill and Carlita and Brindy’s Dave ARE 3Sigma in southwest Louisiana, it just as well be OUR land. Two hundred acres. A four thousand (actually 3800)foot airstrip, turf, and enough land on the east side for several home sites.

It’s Friday afternoon. Me and Deena and Brindy and Carlita are looking at the plat for the tract of land. I made copies so if we mark this one up too much, I can whip out a fresh one.

We have it spread out on a table between us, there in a quiet corner of a Panera Bread. We’ve all had a sandwich apiece and we’re on our second iced chais, so we don’t feel guilty taking up space. At least we’re not a bunch of hipsters, sitting there with MacBooks hoping to be noticed.

I giggle. Me and Deena, we BOTH have MacBooks, but we sneer, righteously, I think, at the posers.

“Hundred yards,” Deena says. “At least a hundred yards back from the runway.”

Carlita titters. “That’s ninety meters. Why not a hundred meters?”

Deena’s snarky today. “Because this ain’t Guatemala and we do ‘yards’.”

“Ohhhh,” Carlita counters, “All manner of nationalistic superiority...”

“You’ve been listening to those people at that table on campus,” Deena retorted.

“Oh, they’re soooo woke,” Carlita laughed, “Seriously, hundred yards. All the other measurements are English units. I understand...”

“So you’re just being mean,” Deena sounded hurt.

“I am. You know how you Anglos are...”

I snickered, “ I bet you have a little Anglo in you, girl...”

Brindy’s eyes twinkled. “Yeah. Probably still dripping out. Dave was late to work this morning.”

I feigned a gasp. “Outrage!”

“Yes, I am sure,” Carlita smirked. “And you are different?”

“I am. I am a lady of restraint and decorum.”

“And a bald-faced liar,” Deena laughed. “Definitely not MY sister...”

“Oh,” Brindy inserted. “You’re just two young girls led astray by your hormones...”

I laughed. “And HIS hormones. Hormones’re good, mmm-kay?”

Carlita’s eyes sparkled. “Indeed they are, young sister...”

“Young?” I squeaked.

“I have a very official birth certificate from the government of Guatemala,” she smiled.

“Yeah,” Brindy reinforced. “I remember when she got it.”

“So,” I said, “One hundred feet is enough frontage?”

“Our lot at Dave’s house is a hundred feet,” Brindy said. “Could be smaller, or larger. But that’s what it is.”

“Nice number,” I said. I looked at Carlita. “Unless SOMEBODY wants metric.”

“I am the wife of Americans. Feet will work well for me,” she said, sticking out her tongue. “No matter WHOSE feet, I suppose.”

“We Americans have very standard feet,” I laughed.

We ended up with sketched-out lots, a new entrance road, a pathway to the apron of the existing airfield.

“Exciting,” I said. “Before you cross the runway, you look both ways or risk decapitation.”

“That would be bad,” Brindy giggled. “Good things happen with heads. His. Mine. Hers. Hate to lose one.” She raised an exaggerated eyebrow.

“We’ll post a note on the airfield description. ‘Do not decapitate the occupants.’ That’ll work ... Speaking of ... when’re y’all starting lessons?”

“We got the books,” Carlita said. “So...”

“Expensive,” Brindy added. “I’m talking with Cindy. They have that trainer...”

“Cessna 152,” I said.

“Yeah,” Brindy said. “If we borrowed it for a couple of months...”

“Bad idea,” Deena said.

“Bad?” Poor Brindy. I think she still harbors some self-esteem issues.

“Yeah ... Everybody gets licensed. Probably a BAD move.” Deena said.

“You!” Brindy spat.

“Sorry,” Deena countered. “My stepmom raised me wrong.”

“You shall spend an extra hour scrubbing out the scullery,” I said.

“See?!?” Deena squeaked. “I didn’t know we even HAD a scullery. No telling what I have to scrub, now. My life is soooo hard...”

Giggle from Brindy. “I’m sure something is hard in your life.”

Outrage from Carlita. “Brindy!”

My brown-haired big sister grinned. “Well??? I’m right, huh? And Deena – how come you’re that shade of red?”

It’s not often that somebody GETS Deena. She’s quick-witted. But this time, she’s speechless.

“I think you’ve broken the Deena,” I told Brindy with a smile.

Deena finally sputtered. “You got me, Brin. I expect it from those two, but you’ve always been so sweet and innocent.”

Lita laughed. “Oh, sister, she has HER times...”

We finally had something we thought would work.

“You might consider that we have the people in Alabama go over it,” Carlita said.

“Oh, I think that’s practically mandatory,” I replied. “Was gonna ask about the architect who did their house plans, too. I like ‘practical’.”

“What?!?” Brindy queried. “You don’t want a Cotswold cottage on the prairies of Southwest Louisiana?”

Deena snickered. “Lita, she’s doin’ it again.”

I looked at Brindy. She’s proud of herself.

“I didn’t used to be a smartass,” she said. “I run with a bad crowd.”

“Yes,” Lita reinforced. “Nurture, not nature.”

Brindy smiled. “Not my fault. But those are nice homes over there – the ones we visited.”

“Yeah,” Deena said. “Like they’re made for people who WANT to be families.”

“That’s what we want,” I said confidently. “Got MY family. Y’all got yours. We can make this happen.”

“We can,” Carlita reflected. “Now. Monday. For the wedding trip.”

“We’re ready,” Deena answered. “Me ‘n’ Haley’re wearing the same dresses we wore to her wedding.”

“They’re identical,” I added. “Completely by accident, I swear...”

“You keep doing that, people’re gonna start noticing. Like those pendants...” Brindy smiled.

I fingered mine. “This?!? Johanna helped us select the design. It’s a ‘family’ thing, is all.”

“Close family,” Deena said. “But just a family.”

This weekend’s Deena’s weekend with her mom. I drop her off. Her mom’s used to me by now, actually acts pleasant.

That leaves me driving home knowing that it’ll just be me and Bill tonight and Saturday night. I suppose you could say that I have him all to myself.

Still, without her, Bill and I manage to entertain ourselves. I think that both he and I have the same feelings, almost guilty doing anything special that could better be shared between the three of us.

That meant that Saturday was spent doing the myriad tasks necessary to keeping a household running, things like grocery shopping, getting the oil changed in the little car Deena and I do most of our running around in, yard work. Simple meal. Tossed a block of Haley and Deena’s special lasagna into the oven while Bill and I cleaned out a flower bed. One in front of the house gets actual flowers. One in back of the house is going to be the kitchen herb garden.

Doing all those things gets a couple of people dirty and sweaty necessitating extra attention in the shower, then it’s me and Bill curled up together in his recliner, watching a favorite old movie.

I’m in his arms.

“Isn’t this how this all got started?” he asked me.

“Might be,” I said. “I needed hugs. You gave me hugs. I needed Bill. You gave me Bill.” I kissed him, a good, promising kiss.

“All this room,” he said. “We used to have fun in the old recliner.”

I snickered. “Maybe I was having more fun than I should’ve.”

“Always thought you weren’t quite as innocent as you made yourself out to be.”

“I know. I was guilty back then. I loved you and I kinda abused that. Just a little. But you never stopped me...”

“You felt good then, just like you do now. Just that then, I was a felon.”

“And now,” I sighed, after a kiss, “You’re my mate.” Another kiss. “So’s Deena, you know ... To both of us.”

“I know,” he said. “I agonized. I love Deena. That whole ‘daughter’ thing, you know. But she’s not, well...”

“I know.”

“I didn’t want to lose YOU, though.”

“And really, we’d already decided between us that if YOU could stand it.”

“Took a while. I still have episodes...”

I giggled. “Not when BOTH of us are after you.”

“No, you, you’re more than I ever imagined. And then you tossed Deena into the stack...”

Giggle. “Almost literally.” I shook my head. Hair’s still damp, but there’s a bounce to it and I happen to know that my Bill is wired such that me shaking my hair is a major thing to him, as verified by him attacking my neck with his mouth.

I squealed. “AHHGGGGG!”

“You started it.”

“Turn the TV off. I know where we can finish this...”

Some time later, he’s propped up on an elbow, his free hand caressing me tenderly. “You’re still so much my little brown-haired girl, darlin’.”

“I like being that. I like the way you love me.”

“God, I always have,” he said.

Almost ten. Phone rang. Deena’s ringtone.

“You know...” I said.

Her giggle’s contagious. “Did I interrupt?”

“Nope,” I said. Twenty minutes earlier...”

“I shoulda been there to stop you from getting used.”

“I am well and truly used, sis...”

“You owe me.”

“So what do you want?”

“Just sayin’ good night to my best friend and my dad, that’s all.” Her voice shifted up half an octave. “Just bein’ a good little girl. And you OWE me...”

Bill and I picked Deena up together on Sunday afternoon. She flopped into the back seat of our SUV. We started backing out.

“I knowww ... buckle in,” she said. “But I feel like floppin’.”

“Buckle,” Bill admonished.

“Ooooo-kayyyyy ... what’s for dinner?”

“I left a pot on the stove, simmering. Meatball sauce piquant,” Bill said. “You two get to pick the veggies.”

“You let Dad cook?” Deena questioned.

“He elbowed me out of the way. Said meatball stew was one of your favorites...”

Giggle. “I just spent two nights sleeping by myself. Balls are indeed part of my expectations.”

“Deena!” Bill spat.

“My daughter’s bein’ forward again, baby,” I laughed. “I’m sorry. We need to keep a better handle on her.”