Chapter 65

THURSDAY AFTERNOON — SEPTEMBER 19

Jeff, Fred and Dave sat in the back yard of Carla's near the picnic tables they had just set up for the party. Although it started out just a bull session among three close friends, it had changed.

Fred stared at his friend. "Jeff, I'm really fucked up. Those two women inside want me to be their man — and I want to. But I'm not over Brenda. I don't know if I'll ever be over her. She encourages me about Carla and Jessica. I know that her voice is just my subconscious or something; it just can't be for real. I thought about going into town and renting a car and just getting the hell out of here. But, I can't just dump them. I swear that I can feel their love for me. How can these women fall in love with me? How can I hear my dead wife's voice?"

Fred slumped into a folding chair and put his head in his hands. "I'm fucked up. I don't understand what going on. I think I'm fucking losing my mind."

Jeff sighed and looked at Dave, who said, "Jeff, can't you tell him. Even I know that you can trust him. If he says he won't tell, then it's a done deal."

Jeff's face lost all expression for a moment as Fred looked at him expectantly. "We told you about the bear attack?" When Fred nodded, Jeff continued, "Well, it was a bit more than that. I came really close to dying. When Diana and Arlene got me back to the retreat, I was almost bled out. Dave picked me up and carried me into the building, and he consequently found out something that I've sworn to never tell. So did all my wives. But that doesn't relieve my duty to keep the ... well, to keep all this a secret, and that includes how it is done."

Fred made a derisive sound, but Jeff went quickly on. "I can't reveal anything more if I want to keep living. That's a literal statement, Fred."

Fred leaned back and crossed his legs. Shrugging, he said, "You mentioned some of this, but well, at least I now know why Dave knows and I can't. That doesn't mean that I'm satisfied, though. But that still doesn't help me any with my problem about Brenda? Not to mention Carla and Jessica."

"What does she say about what you've told us?" Dave asked.

"You mean about me being nuts?" Fred sniggered.

"Well ... yeah, if you want to put it that way."

"I'm afraid to tell her. If she thought she was driving me nuts by talking to me, I'm afraid that she wouldn't talk to me anymore. And I'm not ready to give that up — nuts or not. Put yourselves in my shoes," he said, glancing at both men. "If your spouse died right now, would you want her to stop talking to you, no matter the why or how? No matter how fucking crazy you were?"

Jeff and Dave looked at each other, and Jeff cleared his throat. Instead of answering the obvious, Jeff asked, "What do you really think? Is she real, or is her voice just a memory?"

Fred didn't respond for a moment, mulling over Jeff's choice or words. It revealed a lot about Jeff's trust in him even to consider that she was real. The big detective sat idly pushing at a small pebble in the grass of the yard with the toe of his boot. Finally, "She seems real. And I know that can't be, so I guess I'm nuts. But I'm not going to tell her to stop. I've almost asked her several times why she's talking to me, but it's the only tie I have to her, and I'm afraid even that will make her stop."

Fred looked up at his buddies again, "Like I said, I'm fucked up."

"Have you said anything about this to Carla and Jessica?"

"I'm not quite that crazy, yet," Fred tried to laugh. "Oh, I've mentioned it, but I've, more or less, let them think that Brenda's voice was just a memory. At least, I've tried to do that. Hell, I don't know what they thought. But I haven't come plain out and told them that I'm having conversations with her — that I've gone completely round the bend."

"You might be surprised at their reaction," Jeff said.

"Yeah, and I might not. Better to leave sleeping dogs lie, as the saying goes. Besides, I was really tired the other night when we talked about it. No telling how I came across," he finished, worriedly.

Their conversation was interrupted as a pickup topped the hill and came down the drive pulling the biggest portable grill that Jeff had ever seen. It was obviously homemade and built strong. With deft, sure maneuvering, the driver backed it next to Carla's grill. Jeff grinned as he thought, I guess farmers use trailers a lot. This one sure knows what he's doing.

"Well, looks like we won't have to clean Carla's grill after all," Jeff said.

"Wrong," Fred laughed. "I've already received my orders."

Shortly, two more pickups pulled in bearing several large coolers filled with meat. The smell of barbeque was soon strong in the air.

Around four Haplin and his son arrived. Just as Carla had said, they quickly had a sheet of plywood set up at a measured fifty meters, and then attached a number of the bull's eye targets with small red centers that measured only four-tenths of an inch.

Haplin and his son, Kirk, were soon practicing with an exotic-looking .22 caliber rifle. Fred, Dave and Jeff, curiosity stirred, walked over to watch, each taking a peek through the spotting scope that was attached to a sturdy tripod. It was obvious that Kirk shot much better than his father. Probably due more to the sharper eyesight of youth than anything else, Jeff thought. The small red bull at fifty meters was just that — small, and without a scoped rifle, it would be a difficult target.

Jeff could easily see the holes at fifty meters that the .22 rounds made, but he doubted if any of the others could, or at least not very well. After father and son had each fired twenty rounds, Kirk safed the weapon, even putting a trigger lock in, before the two of them walked out to the targets. By the time they had replaced the targets they had shot on and walked back, several more families had arrived. Several other boys, from about fourteen to eighteen straggled in with their families, as well as a number of girls. The teenagers, as well as some of the adults, gathered round to watch the shooting.

Diana and the rest of Jeff's wives came out, and were soon involved with the group. Sure enough, it wasn't long until Arlene was standing next to Kirk as he fired another three rounds. The bragging started again. Jeff tried to repress a grin as his daughter looked through the spotting scope at Kirk's last target. When she looked back at Jeff, he grinned, and winked at her.

"Can I hold your rifle? I have a .22 that I shoot every now and then."

"Sure," Kirk said, as he talked to her breasts.

Arlene frowned, but took the rifle as he handed it to her, leaving the bolt open.

Well, at least he's been safe with it so far, and he is pretty good with it. But not nearly as good as he thinks he is, Jeff mused.

"It's going to be a little heavy for you," Kirk injected. "It's just over seventeen pounds. A lot of rifle for a girl."

Arlene awkwardly held the rifle as Jeff almost had to cover his mouth to hide a snicker. Diana glanced at her husband, her eyes sparkling.

"Can I shoot it?" Arlene asked in her best little girl voice.

"Sure," Kirk said putting a full magazine in and chambering a round for her. "Take the target in the center of the plywood. That way, if you miss the whole target, we'll still be able to see where your round went," he said in a condescending tone.

"I'll watch through the spotting scope and tell you where you hit, as long as it's on the plywood," Haplin joined in, sniggering, fully expecting her to do just that.

As Haplin stared through the scope, and Kirk stood directly behind Arlene so that he might see dirt fly up when she missed the whole thing, Arlene's stance changed and her assumed awkwardness vanished.

As she let out half a breath, picked up on the rhythm of her heart, then squeezed the hair trigger, Haplin cursed. "Damn, that was a lucky one. She hit dead center of the bull."

He didn't see Joyce clap her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

Two rounds later, Kirk was holding a pair of binoculars to his eyes. "She hit the bull with the first round, but missed everything with the other two," he declared.

"No, hell no, she didn't," his father interjected. "She put all three through the center of the bull. I saw the strike of each bullet," he said, looking again through the spotting scope. "She has a barely discernable clover leaf where the three bullets hit. They made one hole."

"That's bullshit!" Kirk brayed. "There's no fucking way."

Arlene took the magazine out, ejected the empty from the rifle, her hand snaking out to catch the casing in the air, then stood the gun in its rack with the bolt still open. She handed Kirk the empty shell casing and the magazine.

"The rifle is really heavy," she said, straight-faced.

Haplin, ignoring his son's protestations asked, "Where do you go to school, young lady? I would certainly love to have you on our shooting team."

"I go to a private school," Arlene answered sweetly, still using her little girl voice. "But that big ol' twelve pound rifle is too heavy for me," she managed to say without breaking down and laughing, although it was hard. Grinning, she walked by her dad, poking him in the ribs with a finger as Jeff laughed out loud.

All the kids were now laughing, including Jeff's younger wives.

"Better watch out for pretty little girls. They might just take your spot on that shooting team," Joyce sarcastically said as she turned to follow the others toward the house.

"Damn," Jeb said, "That lass would make a hell of a sniper."

"No fucking way did she outshoot me," Kirk snarled at his dad as Haplin came back with Arlene's target a few minutes later. Laying the target face down on a piece of plywood, Haplin carefully folded the pieces of paper back to reform the hole, in part. There was enough of the paper left when they turned the target right side up to see that there had, indeed, been three bullets through the center.

"Shit!" Kirk snarled. "It's a fucking accident. No way could she do that again."

"If I were you," Haplin hissed at his son, "I would shut the fuck up before she embarrasses you again. She just took you down the primrose path."

"What the hell is the primrose path?" Kirk snarled.

"Look it up," his father said, staring after Arlene as she and the girls went into the house, "She had you dancing down it like an idiot."

Kirk frowned, lowering his voice so that only his father could hear. "Well, they're all the same on their backs. A good load of come up her pussy and we'll see who goes down that path. Besides, I'd like to see her with her belly swelled up."

"Ah, a chip off the old block," Haplin whispered, slapping Kirk on the back.

Annie winked at Jeff as she and her husband went to congratulate Arlene.

Linda was the last of the girls into the house, and just before she went through the door, she turned back for a second, her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh that wouldn't seem to stop as she glanced in Kirk's direction and dashed on into the kitchen.

Jeremy walked up with Denise on one side of him and Connie on the other snuggled in his arms.

Jeff grinned at them, but couldn't help himself. "Hmmm, looks like things have been happening since I last saw the three of you."

Before they could say anything, Lee joined them with, "Yeah, they all rolled up one morning in the same pickup. One of the hotheads ran his mouth about the ladies, and Jeremy kicked his ass for him. After that, I told them to quit hiding. They're the three best workers I have. As long as they hold it down to a roar on the job, I don't give a damn," he laughed.

Both women and Jeremy blushed.

Lee grinned at the three like they were his kids. "They tell me that they're pooling their money to go to college, trying to save all they can. I'm going to talk to Jackson to see if the company will help them out a little. Of course, I'm cutting my own throat in the process, because I'll lose them, but ... that's life," he finished, chuckling.

"Well, we've just started. We'll save more money with the three of us living together, but we're not quite as far along as Lee thinks," Denise said. Then looking up at Jeremy, she continued, "But we're working on him. One of these days he's gonna say yes." She and Connie both giggled as they tried to tickle Jeremy.

Jeff and the construction people continued their conversation for a time, laughing and teasing each other.

After a while, several of the other kids, and even a few of the grownups, shot under Haplin's watchful eye. But for some reason the bragging had stopped. The kids, however, now enjoyed themselves a lot more, although none of them could even come close to Kirk's abilities with the custom rifle.

One of Kirk's buddies teased him about being outshot by a girl, but when Kirk snarled back at him, the teasing really started.

Just as darkness descended, Carla and her daughter went back inside the house for the final bowls of food. "How in the heck does he keep all of them satisfied?" Jessica quietly asked her mother.

Carla glanced out the window at Jeff's wives gathered near the picnic tables. "We've talked about this before. And I don't know any more now than I did then," she answered, looking around to make sure they had everything.

"Now he has two more," Jessica said, nodding toward Joyce and Caitlin, who were adding more drinks to the coolers.

"Yeah, it looks that way," Carla said, smiling.

"What about our man? When do you suppose he's going to do anything?" Jessica said, turning to her mother.

Instead of answering, "What if he likes one of us more than the other?" Carla fretted, surprising her daughter.

"I don't see why you're worried," Jessica answered. "You're prettier than I am. If he likes one of us more, it will be you."

Carla stared at Jessica in astonishment. "You've got to be kidding. I'm twice your age, my breasts have started to sag, and you're ... way prettier," she finished, taking Jessica's face gently in her hands.

Jessica lightly kissed her mother. "Your breasts don't sag, and you know it, but I can't believe we're talking about sharing a man. Oh, I know what we discussed, and I don't have any problem with it, well ... if it hadn't been for the Matthews, I would never have thought of it." Blushing, she grinned at Carla. "Now, I'm anxious to get started. I fantasized about him making love to you while I, uh, played with myself, and, uh, had tremendous orgasms. I want to watch. Not to say anything about wanting him to do it to me." Giggling, blushing, she held her mother.

"Good grief, Daughter. We've got to stop talking about this before we start to smell like sex." After a moment, with a sheepish grin on her face, she continued, "You're not the only one who's been fantasizing. I've never done a threesome thing before — never even considered it with your dad — but unless you want to have Fred play musical beds..."

"No," Jessica quickly interjected. "I want to sleep in his arms every night. I've dreamed of sleeping in my man's arms ever since puberty, but I wanted it to be with the man I loved, not just some fuck buddy. And before you say anything, I've only had the one that I told you about, but I'm in love with Fred. I can barely keep from touching him when someone is around. If he doesn't do something soon, I'm going to crawl into bed with him, anyway."

Carla sighed and leaned back against the sink, her back to the window. "I loved your father, and as Fred says about Brenda, 'still do, ' but I love this man every bit as much. And when he touches me, even casually, I get wet. I don't know how this is going to work out. I know that I'm going to be embarrassed to death when we all get into bed together, but I'm not going to let him go. I just can't."

Jessica grinned and glanced at her mother's breasts. "A couple of my girlfriends from college and I watched a porn DVD one night. This guy had this girl that looked a lot like you on her hands and knees on the side of the bed, while he stood behind her. He fucked the shit out of her, and her breasts were bouncing all over. It was the sexiest thing I have ever seen." Blushing furiously, she quietly added, "Later that night, I fantasized about it being you as I ... well, you know. I think you're sexy, Mom. I can't wait to see Fred do that to you."

"Oh, crap," Carla said, her face also red, not all of it from blushing. "Mothers and daughters don't talk about things like that with each other."

"You want to bet?" Jessica said, nodding to the window where they could see Diana and Arlene laughing at something one of the girls had said.

Carla hugged her daughter. "Well, whatever happens, we need to get this food out there before they wonder where we went. Having a wet spot in the front of our jeans won't help, either. And if we keep talking about him, our jeans are going to show it," she laughed picking up a couple of bowls of food. "Get those extra buns over there," she said, pointing to the table, "and let's go feed our man."

Laughing, the two women hurried to join the others.