Chapter 3

Scott Quitman came to again after passing out once more, only to find that he had company. Rhonda Walker, nee Volmer. What was she doing there? What did she want, anyway? The last that Scott knew, Rhonda was a widow doing the best to make do in the wake of Verlan’s murder by Alby Grant. Her late marriage had been a mixed bag, ending even more tragically than his. All that he, Scott, had to face was divorce. Rhonda, like Sarah’s three mothers, had been bereft of her husband, the man whom she loved.

“Rhonda? What do you want?” Scott growled, being in no mood to listen to her complaints, in spite of his empathy for her...

Rhonda had been a beast for the short time that he let her crash with him at Sarah’s behest. The last thing that Scott wanted was to actually spend time with her if he could avoid it. As he recalled, Rhonda had exposed Barb Henrickson, Sarah’s mother, as a polygamist wife, costing her any chance at the Mother of the Year award for which she was nominated by Teenie.

“I came because ... I felt badly ... because ... I should have warned you that Heather and Sarah were lesbos. I certainly knew or suspected it about Heather. I wasn’t sure about Sarah, but she was always chummy with Heather, and well, dykes of a feather,” Rhonda exhibited a bit of snark in her very nasty mood.

“Go ease your conscience somewhere else, Rhonda. I still haven’t forgotten what you did to Sarah’s mother. That was nasty and uncalled for ... and the way that you treated me was shabby as hell when I let you crash with me. I haven’t forgiven you for that, either. So, go, do your little sassy, holier than thou routine somewhere else. I don’t need it. I need to move on with my life, but I’m depressed as fuck right now. And I haven’t even been released from the hospital yet. How did you get in, anyway?” Scott snapped at her now.

“I brought you here and convinced them that I’m your wife. So, deal with it. I’m going to let you crash with me for a while. And if I were you, I’d go along with it, because if you don’t, you might not get out of the hospital as soon as you like. They know that they can’t discharge you entirely on your own power, after all,” Rhonda scoffed, making Scott red with embarrassment and sheer frustration.

“Damn it, Rhonda! Oh, okay for now ... it’s not like I have a wife or girlfriend or anything. And you’re not exactly jailbait anymore, are you?” Scott shrugged, wanting out of the hospital sooner rather than later ... so he could figure out what to do about little Bill.

His son.

Named after his father-in-law, the late polygamist state senator and entrepreneur William “Bill” Henrickson. His son, named by his estranged, unfaithful wife, who had once gotten jealous over his other ladies. Yeah, what a joke that now appeared in hindsight. But, to be fair, she was a very different girl back then, sheltered, prudish, more uptight by far than she was now. Not that it did him much good once she loosened up, since she went for her best friend and they became lovers, after all.