Buzzard Bay (2 page)

TWO

1984

P
RIDE WAS MY
biggest problem. Failure was never an option, you put your head down and kept going, no matter what. I remember that bright September afternoon when reality hit - there was a time to quit before you destroyed everyone around you. If it hadn’t been for July slowly getting this into my head, I was headed in that direction. It had been a beautiful fall day. The sun was shining; I was sitting in the cab of my harvester, harvesting one of the best crops in years. I should have been happy, but I was brooding. The prices were the shits; even this crop would nowhere begin to cover the debts I owed. A car pulled into the end of the field. It was my banker’s car.

Well, maybe if he had come out to see me, he had good news. We had been negotiating for months, but things had bogged down lately, perhaps explaining why I had been so miserable. I knew I was taking it out on my family, lashing out at them over the most trivial of things. It was not a happy home. I reached the end of the field, unloaded the hopper into the truck, and then climbed down from my machine to walk over to the car. We didn’t shake hands; things had gone beyond that. Barry got right to the point.

“Bob, we’ve decided to foreclose. We expect you to have your machinery lined up for an auction in the spring and be off of here by then.”

It was a slap in the face. My first instinct was to strike him. No, don’t show him you’re scared. “I’ve got a good crop here,” I said.

“Look, we’ve got a pretty good handle on what you’ve got, but this has been going on too long, Bob. Quit beating your head against the wall.”

“Fuck you, Barry.” Instantly, I knew that was a mistake. I could see the resolve set in his eyes.

“We’ve put a lien on your grain. The sheriff will be out to put seals on your granaries.”

“How am I supposed to feed my family, Barry?”

“That’s your problem, Bob. You created it—you look after it.”

Don’t show him you’re starting to panic, Bob. Don’t whine.

“I guess we’ll see you in court, Barry.”

“Don’t be a fool, Bob. It’s over. You’ll only spend more money that you don’t have. Give it up.” His face almost showed remorse.

“You’ve done the best you can. Get on with your life.”

Deep down, I knew he was right. He’d known July, my wife, for years; he knew what I’d been putting my family through, so did I. With that, he got into his car and drove off, his ultimatum delivered.

You can take anything from a man but his land. There’s a bond; it’s part of you. I stood looking at my land, and tears came to my eyes. I had nurtured it; this was my living, my way of life. My father had farmed it before me; he had broken the land, prospered on it. I had lost it; I was a failure. I had failed my father, myself, my family. I climbed back into the harvester. At least here I felt at peace, doing what I liked best, maybe for the last time.

It was after midnight by the time I had put everything away and got home that night. July had been sleeping but got up when she heard me come in. Even though I was in a rotten mood, I realized how beautiful she was, her blonde hair all tousled.

“How was your day?” she asked innocently.

I reached for a bottle under the bar. Just the way she said it was enough to get me off.

“Who gives a fuck?” I replied.

July was like my right arm, a part of me. Instead of being insulted, she instinctively knew there was something wrong. She took two glasses from the cupboard and brought the mix from the fridge to the bar. Her eyes were genuinely emotional.

“What happened, Bob?” She said it in such a way that it melted me.

“Barry was out to see me,” I said.

“Yes,” she said as she poured herself a drink, “I saw him go by. I thought maybe he was just by to see how you were making out.”

“No,” I sighed. “Actually, he stopped to tell me the bank is foreclosing and want us out of here.” Somehow, I didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want to tell her; but now that I had, I felt better.

“Well, that prick!” she said.

I started to laugh, and so did she; she had that effect on me. I could be so damn hard on her, yet she always got my head straight, supporting me all the way. That’s why I loved her so much. Now that she had changed my mood and we had a common enemy, our conversation became much more constructive.

“Can he do that?” she said.

“Yes, you know exactly where we stand,” I said, pouring myself a drink.

he was a very independent girl. She poured her own drink, but be damned if she’d pour mine. I also knew she could drink me under the table if she wanted to.

“So now what?” She spoke with no remorse, but matter-of-factly.

“Well,” I said, “I guess we’ll finish the harvest, salvage what we can, and move on.”

he put her hand on my shoulder. “My father can still help, you know.”

I flinched. “It’s too late even for that. I pissed Barry off, and even then, what’s the point in pouring money into a sinking ship?”

“Yes, but I know how much it means to you,” she said.

“It’s you and the kids that mean everything to me July, as long as I have you guys the rest will sort itself out.”

he tossed off her drink then came and sat on my lap.

“What about this friend of Dad’s that’s trying to promote this Bahamas project? You know we’ve always loved that island.”

“Yeah,” I said, “that’s starting to have a little more merit all the time.”

“I know you and Dad don’t get along,” July said. “You’re both too damned much alike, independent and stubborn.”

I hated being compared to my father-in-law, although I grudgingly admired him.

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll give this Tom guy a call in the morning and tell him that I’m still interested. We’ll see what he has to say.”

“Bill and Hania Shonavon have signed on to go,” July said. “I don’t know Dale, but I have met Pearl Drinkwater. They seem like nice people. I think they’re going too.”

“Dale talks too much,” I retorted, finishing my drink.

“Well, it’s definitely something to think about,” July said. “Now that you’re finally finished that drink, let me take you to bed.”

he grabbed me by the hand. I had no problem being led to bed by a beautiful big blonde; I was in the mood to give it to someone. My clothes were almost completely off by the time we reached the bedroom. I’m sure the kids would wonder why my pants were lying in the middle of the hall come morning. She closed the door while I took off my socks. I looked up to see her stretch and pull the short nightshirt over her head. My cock became instantly hard; she had that effect on me, and she knew it.

I walked over to her, grabbing her ass and pulling her tight to me. She moaned and reached for my cock, then slid slowly down on me, dragging her tongue until she found what she was looking for. I shut my eyes, and all the stress left my body as she squeezed my balls and began to suck my cock.

“Beautiful,” I groaned, almost losing my feet as she turned my legs to butter. Enough of this; I grabbed her and wrangled her onto the bed. Still standing, I lifted her long legs over my shoulders and gave her all the cock I had. Her eyes opened wide, and she caught her breath. I power-stroked her cuming far quicker than I wanted. Then I collapsed on top of her, burying my face in her breasts, totally played out and content. We fell asleep that way.

Later that night, I woke up cold and began pulling up the covers when I felt her hand on my cock. Guess I won’t be getting much sleep tonight.

THREE

1969

J
ULY HANSON DID
indeed live up to the image of a blonde bomber. Her five-feet-eleven-inch frame and shocking long blonde hair probably came from her father’s Swedish ancestry, but it was her mother’s natural grace and beauty that made her really outstanding. Coming from an aristocratic French Canadian family, her mother’s charm and classic features were passed on to July, and she used them well. Her parents were going to call her June, but she refused to appear until the first of July, thus a double celebration and perhaps an omen, so the name stuck.

July’s father, a tough old Swede, came from a logging background to running one of Minnesota’s largest pulp mills. Her mother’s family had been in the same business in Quebec for years. She was a St. Laurent, one of the oldest and very upper-crust families in Canadian history. Her brother was a minister in the government in Canada’s capital, Ottawa, so it was no wonder they were not warm when Ole was invited to a reception at their home. He was at the time selling logs to a subsidiary of the St. Laurent Company. He was a big bulk of a man, standing six feet two, with blue eyes, blond hair, and a build that left Mademoiselle Irène totally speechless. Not knowing any better, he headed straight for the best-looking girl in the room. Despite her family’s reservations, the rest is history. They now lived in Minnesota and, six kids later, still have the old flame going.

July was born right in the middle of the pack. All the rest were boys; still, she was the biggest baby at birth and could fight with the best of them. Her mother feared that she would grow up a tomboy, but all that seemed to happen was that she liked men and preferred their company.

he loved sports, even excelled at them, but she grew up a lady and as she grew older an exceedingly more beautiful one. She developed early—not only in body, but in mind, finding boys were good for things besides roughhousing. If she had a weakness, it was sex. By the age of twelve, she had blown her first boyfriend; and at the age of fourteen, she had the scare of her life. She missed her period and assumed she was pregnant.

On finding out July’s problem, her mother guided her through a very difficult time. It was a false alarm but taught July that life was much more complex than she had anticipated, and she began to concentrate a lot more on her future and a little less on boys. There was a time and place for everything.

There were few secrets in a small town; people loved to gossip, and there was little pity for anyone who stepped out of line, especially the daughter of the most prominent family in town. Sex still held a good deal of her attention. (Her father had said that she got this from her mother, but he said it with a smile and a faraway look in his eye. His wife too considered it a priority, and he never complained.)

July became much more focused on day-to-day issues. She was very popular, never using her natural attributes or position to manipulate others, but could damn well tell you where to go if need be.

he entered a small beauty contest, leading her to become crowned Miss Minnesota. She didn’t win Miss Teen America but gained some notoriety in the papers as the girl who “utterly represents the Dairy State.” This experience made her much more worldly and expanded her knowledge not only toward life but toward men. She learned that they came in different colors, sizes, and mentalities; and that most of them were motivated between their legs. More importantly, she learned that she could manipulate them if she so wished either by being intelligent or provocative, whatever the situation required.

An intelligent woman is nice, a beautiful one is nice, but an intelligent beautiful woman is downright dangerous. Most people assumed that this title she had received would lead to a modeling career, not realizing she was much too voluptuous for the likes of Chanel and Dior, whose emaciated beauties patrolled their runways. July didn’t really have time for this dream world anyway. She hated the manipulations and politics that surrounded this scene, preferring to use her wits and intelligence to be her own woman.

July could almost laugh when she saw the lust in a man’s eye or when they became patronizing. She used them as she needed, sympathized with them if they deserved it. It was a man’s world, they say. Well, July would have none of it. The world was her oyster, and she was ready to go for it.

In her first year of college, July flourished. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to be.

“There are so many ways to go. I’ll just find it as I go along,” she thought. No one would ever imagine where this would lead her.

uccess is measured in many ways, mostly by the money we make and people believe that money will lead to all the other things that make life desirable. Character is built by adventure, failures, and achievements; a good quality of life can be achieved without becoming rich, but it is the search for riches that creates all of these ingredients.

It’s good to be alive, isn’t it? July certainly believed it was. So why is it that just when one thinks that they’ve got it made, something or someone comes along to throw a twist into everything?

July first met Bob Green in 1969, her last year of college. He was a Canadian boy brought in on a scholarship to play goalie for the hockey team. She had heard the other girls talking about the hot new boy, but every new boy was hot to the girls. Still, she was curious to see how he did look, maybe because he was Canadian. She was in the stands nearly at ice level as the team lined up for the national anthem. Bob lined up right next to them on the blue line. He removed his helmet, and she could see that he was a very good-looking boy indeed.

A good friend of hers, Gaylene, who said she had met him in class, shouted, “Have a good game, Bobby!”

He looked over with the most amazing smile July had ever seen. Their eyes locked for just a second; there was no expression on his face as he waved to Gaylene.

“Hi Gaylene,” he said. “I hope we win for you tonight!”

Gaylene was ecstatic. July was almost jealous; he’d hardly even paid any attention to her at all. That usually did not happen because if she made it known that she wanted someone’s attention, she usually got it. She had caught his eye all right, but only for an instant. She began to fume so she cuddled up to her date that night, Charlie Parrs, a varsity man with tremendous credentials. Bob, or Bobby as they called him on campus, had a terrible game that night and was pulled in the third period.

“That will teach you,” she thought; she felt vindicated.

Bobby’s popularity in the ice rink carried over onto campus. The girls liked him, although he didn’t take many of them out, but any that he did came back with glowing reports. The guys liked him too. He had none of the assuming airs that jocks often had; he liked to drink and carouse, often breaking curfew, and had been rumored to be involved with some of the older women downtown. All this added to his mystique. However, he did not work hard at school, only excelling at what he was interested in and to the frustration of his teachers, seldom reached his potential.

July loved ice hockey and had even played it with her brothers before it was in vogue. After all, they were half French Canadian, they must learn how to play ‘Le hockey’. Bob’s play improved tremendously in the next few weeks, and this was the only time she saw him until they met in the hall one day. He smiled at her, and she felt compelled to stop.

“Hi,” she said. He came back with a hello but kept on walking.

“What the hell did I do that for?” July thought. Somewhere in her subconscious, she knew this guy attracted her, but she’d be damned if she’d let him know.

It was the start of the second semester and July was late for class. When she did arrive, there was only one seat left, and guess who was in the seat beside her. Yeah, it was Bobby Green. For a second, her heart raced but when he didn’t even look up to see who it was, she became quite nervous. The classroom was made with tables for two, and just as the class ended, the professor made a statement which really agitated her.

“Your partner at your table will be your partner for the year,” he stated. “Many of your assignments during the semester will be carried out between the two of you.” She immediately put up her hand.

“Yes?” the professor responded.

“May I move?” she asked. This certainly made Bobby pay attention to her. Some of the class laughed, and she realized how foolish she sounded.

“What? So you can go sit with your friend,” the professor said. “If I let you move, I must let everyone move. The answer is no.”

Now she had not only made a fool of herself, she had to face Bob. Offensively, July turned to look at him. He sat there with his head in his hands.

“Guess you’re stuck with me,” he said.

“Yeah, stuck with you is right!” she retorted. “I don’t suppose you know anything about this class?” she asked with a bit of sarcasm.

“Not a damn thing,” he responded, “and I expect you to do all the work.”

With that, she picked up her books and left.

“To hell with you, Bobby Green,” she thought.

That night, she and Charlie Parrs had a damn good screw.

July felt terrible as she headed into the classroom. She had been at a party the night before and well, she’d overdone it a bit. She’d been overstressed of late and not herself at all. She would not admit to herself the reason might be Bobby Green. He’d hardly spoken to her at all and because of his hockey, he was seldom there. July began to appreciate how hard it was for these athletes to obtain a decent grade while under the obligation of a scholarship. This time, she noticed he was there. He looked up and then looked up again.

“You look like hell,” he said. “You must have been over at Bill Jensen’s little shaker last night.”

“Yes,” was all an annoyed July could respond.

“I’m surprised actually,” he said, smiling. “I think you’re the only one that was there last night to make it this morning.” July just growled but knew by the tone of his voice that it was a compliment. July’s head hurt, so she wasn’t paying much attention, when through the fog she heard the professor call her and Bob’s names. The prof had been randomly asking the groups questions on the assignment he had given last week. If there was one thing July didn’t do, it was come to class unprepared. She worked hard at her classes and got her work done. Today she was caught. Hell, she didn’t even hear the question he had asked, let alone know where to find the answer.

Through her muddle, she realized there was a voice beside her. It was Bob, giving a very solid, analytical answer. Her first sense was relief, then one of being pissed off. He didn’t even have a smug look on his face. In fact, it was like she wasn’t even there at all. She had to admit that she really wasn’t, but she made a vow to never let this happen again, not in this class anyway. At the end of the class, she stormed out feeling worse than when she had come in. It became common knowledge around campus that the two of them were feuding. The general population loved it and did all they could to add fuel to the fire.

July waited until one morning when Bob came to class late. He looked very tired; he hadn’t even shaved. “Partying,” she thought and remembered the rumors about his escapades with, as some people said, the ‘wives’ downtown. She knew this might be her chance to get him if the prof called their names to quiz them, which he did. July immediately spoke up, saying that they had cut the assignment in half for research purposes, that this area of the question was in Bob’s section, and she had not read his material yet. She knew that she had him; he hasn’t done a damn thing, she thought.

He looked straight at the professor. “You’ll remember our conversation from last week, sir.”

“Yes,” the prof said. “Our star jock requested more time because his team was on a three-game road trip. Let me remind you, Mr. Green, that we expect a certain standard to be kept in our class.” The prof was showing little sympathy. “Just because you’re in the Athletic Scholarship Program doesn’t mean you don’t have to complete your assignments. I expect both of you to have this handed in by tomorrow morning.”

The prof was a nerd, probably envious of jocks for their popularity and so-called easy way through college, while he had achieved high grades and worked for everything he got. July knew the professor hated jocks, and she could almost cry. She’d been so determined in her vendetta against this man that she’d forgotten the team was away. He just sat there not even looking at her.

“Couldn’t you show something toward me,” she thought with tears in her eyes. She was so ashamed of herself.

“Pull yourself together, July,” she thought. “You owe this man something.”

When class was over, she put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bob. The bitch in me came out; you must think I’m awful.”

He actually laughed. “That,” he said, “and you’re so damn beautiful that it scares me.” For a moment, there was a silence between them; no one spoke.

Bob finally broke the spell. “I’m going to need some help with this assignment if we are going to have it done by morning. I know you’re a busy girl, but if you could give me some time…”

“Yes,” she said, “I can give you all the time you want.”

Actually July was a busy girl and couldn’t give him all the time she wanted, still she looked forward to their meeting all day. She arrived at the library late; she had run all the way to get there and when she did get there, she thought he’d be furious; instead, he was sitting at a table with three girls, three of her friends actually.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said.

“We knew you’d be late,” one of her friends said, “so we came to help him.”

July knew why they were there; they knew that she and Bob hated each other, as they put it. They wanted to be in on the rumble that was sure to erupt. She almost started, almost said something to get it going, but smiled and sat down instead. The girls, realizing that nothing was going to happen, soon found the work boring and went away.

After they had completed their work, which had gone very well, Bob surprised her with “I think they were disappointed.”