Chapter 3

I had a good job, as a receiving foreman in a large factory. I also had a small farm, just a few acres, but it had always been my passion, and I was a pretty good farmer, optimizing yield while improving the land.

I married a girl from the factory. I got a lot of ribbing from the guys about how lucky I was, and I agreed.

She worked in the office, her hair was always perfect, her makeup nice but understated, and even though she didn’t have to, she always wore a dress or skirt. If I had her legs, I would too. Her hemline was always a little higher than business proper, but none of the managers complained.

We met over paperwork issues. One of the other girls warned me she was a little mercenary, a little too materialistic, but I put it down to misplaced jealousy, wooing her until she accepted my ring.

The marriage was small but nice. We honeymooned in Florida, and her tiny bikinis always caused a stir when we hit the beach. I wasn’t bothered, because at the end of the day, all they could do was look, while I’d be the one to peel those little wisps of fabric off her.

I loved Kara with all my soul, and I really believed she loved me. The first three years were wonderful; we seemed so in sync, even started thinking about a family.

Trouble started when I was offered a manager’s position and I turned it down so I could focus on my farm. Kara did not like me farming, couldn’t stand to see me dirty, and she absolutely refused to help me. She was really pissed when I turned down the job and we had our first serious argument since we married.

“Take the job! You wouldn’t have to get dirty, could wear nice clothes every day, and best of all, we could spend more time together. Think of the doors it could open. We could join the country-club, move up in society.”

“I could care less about the country-club people. Besides, I would still make more at my regular job and the farm.”

We fought, and in the end, I chose the farm over the country-club. Kara didn’t. At first, I didn’t notice, she told me she had started stopping for a drink with the girls on Fridays but was always home by eight or nine. It seemed to make her happy and I was busy with the farm, so it wasn’t like it was taking time away from us.

Then one of her friends took them to the country-club, using her father’s membership to get them in. That led to some Saturdays by the pool. I was at the farmer’s market until three, and she was home shortly after. I didn’t know for a long time she would pack a conservative suit, but change into one of her tiny bikinis at the club.

Of course, that got the attention of the sharks, and they started circling. Conversations morphed to flirting, flirting led to touching, touching led to sex and the end of our marriage.

The guy was an asshole, all flashy clothes and Daddy’s money. He had a job, working for his father, an office where he usually did useless things while the managers ran the business. He had the perfect suits, money to burn, and drove an expensive foreign car. Sadly, it didn’t take long for her to fall for the glitter.

I found out, as usual, by accident. Accident or not, it didn’t make it less true. I followed them to a romantic restaurant and confronted them. He got stupid, or macho, or both, and swung at me. I worked a physically demanding job, and farming, if you did it right, didn’t make you soft. I only hit him once, but it broke his cheekbone and detached a retina. I would have been in deep, deep shit if it hadn’t been for the security cameras.