Mary's Men (13 page)

She picked up the phone and dialed for her aunt. She hoped she called early enough to catch her before or after chores. The phone rang. She chewed her pinky nail, knowing she only had a few minutes. Neither she nor Aunt Marcy could afford a big collect call bill, but holding silent much longer would cost more.

The operator spoke, the echo on the line worse until Aunt Marcy’s voice came through loud and clear.

“Mary girl, it’s about time you called. How is life in the mountains?”

“It’s interesting.” Her eyes burned at the familiar voice. She’d needed it more than she thought. “I love them, they love me. Their mother hates me.”

“Of course she does. You’re not only taking one of her sons, you’re taking both. Your mother used to complain about your father’s mother being hard on her. It’s just part of the process.”

Her heart ached at the mention of her mother. So often her mother crossed her mind, more now than ever. She had a hundred questions, amazing experiences to share.

“What else is going on?” Aunt Marcy asked. “You wouldn’t call just to be quiet.”

“Some things are so good…why does the rest have to be ugly?”

“I wish I could give you an easy answer, sunshine. Being different is easier than it’s ever been, but that doesn’t mean the challenges don’t hurt. You know you can come home, right?”

Mary flicked a tear off her nose. She didn’t want to waste their minutes on tears. “I know. I want to stay. I really do.”

“Of course you do. I have faith. You’ll make it work and you’ll have fun doing it. I might curse you a little when I’m picking watermelons on my own, but I still want you to be happy.”

The loving response encouraged more tears, but Mary forced them aside. “I really appreciate that. You’re welcome up here, you know. There’s plenty of room.”

“I’m content being the crazy lesbian hippy of Colorado, thank you very much. But I’ll be up for a visit this winter after things settle down. Wouldn’t want to infringe on the newlyweds.”

“How’s the farm?”

The mundane, normal conversation helped settle Mary and aligned her confidence. This was what she’d needed, a dollop of common sense and love. Marcy never disappointed. When Mary hung up, the tasks ahead didn’t loom so daunting. She looked at the phone, a long set aside desire rearing its head. She checked the clock. She still had plenty of time to get to town.

The familiar numbers, set to heart in her youth, easily turned on the rotary dial. She nibbled her lip until the operator answered. She gave her father’s name and number and even offered for reverse charges. Rapid ringing matched her racing heart. She hadn’t attempted to call since her eighteenth birthday. That day her mother explained it was better they not talk again. Mary didn’t know the full reason, but had often wondered if her father had been looking for her with the hopes of pulling her back into the community. Or maybe the separation was as painful to her mother as it was to Mary. Whatever the reason, they hadn’t spoke in years.

“I’m sorry, miss, there is no answer. Would you like to try again later?”

Mary coughed through the tightness in her throat. “Um, yes, I’ll call another time. Thank you.”

She set the phone gently in its cradle and rested her face on her hands. Like everything else, life played the carrot and stick. Encouragement from Marcy, silence from her mother. Mary pushed to her feet. Sitting in misery accomplished nothing. If her mind insisted on running in circles, the least she could do was use the time to shop and bake.

With renewed determination, she headed for town. The long drive through thick forest and rich pasture land renewed her energy. She ticked off her list, adding chocolate and ice cream if she could find it. Comfort food could only help.

She pulled up to the grocery store and reached for her purse. Cold sweat broke out on both palms as her fingers curled around the door handle. As she sat in the parking lot, Mary realized she’d never truly understood fear. The aversion to heights and hairy spiders was nothing. She’d kiss a spider while dangling from a cliff if it meant skipping the store and never having to see anyone who knew her story ever again.

A light knock came at the passenger side of the truck. She managed not to scream, but just barely. She turned to find an unfamiliar man peering through the window. She leaned over and unrolled it a crack.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“You’re Paul Paraby’s wife, right?”

She steeled herself, not sure what her honest answer would illicit. “Yes, I am.”

“The name’s Mike Gale. If you’re looking for a new third, you let me know.”

The blood drained from her face. She’d pictured other things, condemnation and anger, but not…this. Her mouth opened and closed twice, but she didn’t know what to say.

“Paul knows how to get a hold of me.” His gaze lingered on her chest before he winked. “A hot little thing like you would sure as hell warm the winter night.”

He tapped the truck top twice and walked away. Mary couldn’t find a reply, too horrified, too embarrassed, too…ashamed. The forward fellow got into a truck a few vehicles over and winked again. She had to get away from him. She hurried out of the truck and kept her head down, avoiding any interaction with the creepy man she hoped never to encounter again.

Did all the men think like he did? That she was some slut willing to welcome another man in her bed? Well, she would welcome Duane.

She groaned as she pulled open the door. She couldn’t wait to get back to the cabin.

The few times Mary had been to the grocery store the aisles had been empty of people. This time, on par with the rest of her week, only two carts sat empty for her to use. She took one and stanchly avoided eye contact. She hurried to the vegetables, grabbing the first things she saw before moving on to dairy. The milk spot was empty, but she wouldn’t ask for it. Oh no. She pulled out butter and grabbed two dozen eggs instead.

Focusing on the groceries, she managed to miss everything else. After five minutes and nearly half her list she began to relax. She’d made it this far without issue, so most likely this town was like her mother’s. They were willing to ignore what they didn’t understand or care for as long as it didn’t make a fuss. The jerk in the parking lot was not the norm.

She turned down the cereal aisle and chanced a look up. Sam crouched over a pallet of cereal. He stood and smiled when he saw her. “Hi there, Mary. Nice to see you today. Can I help you with anything? We’re busier than normal what with so many family reunions and such going on in the last days of summer, so I’m out of a few things on the shelves, but have it in stock in the back.”

She grabbed a carton of oatmeal. “I’m finding what I need, but thanks.”

“All right, you let me know if that changes.”

Maybe they didn’t care. Mary headed to the next aisle for baking supplies. She’d stock up and spend the next few days making goodies for her men to make up for the emotional mess she’d been lately. Maybe she’d been right on the PMS fib she’d told Paul. A little chocolate would go a long way in improving her mood. She chose a few bags of chocolate chips and evaporated milk. The humidity had dropped enough to make fudge too. She could do a test run for her holiday baking.

“You have a lot of nerve coming in here.” Gerty’s harsh voice jarred her from her selections. “Get out. We don’t sell to whores.”

Mary had seen this coming—Gerty was the one she’d dreaded seeing most. She was the only person in town Mary had gotten to know to any extent. Her opinion mattered because Mary cared about her. The scorn and disgust in her green eyes slammed her heart.

“You sure you want to do that, Gerty?” Mary asked. She wanted to crawl into the corner and cry, but she had a spine. “My money is as good as anyone else’s.”

“That might be so, but I don’t have to worry about catching some horrible VD from handling Mrs. Gale’s money.” Gerty grabbed the cart and jerked it out of Mary’s grasp. “Now get out of here.”

Angry and hurt, Mary took the cart back and pointed it toward the front. “I’ll buy my things and then I’ll go. This is a free country, isn’t it?”

The clip of Gerty’s shoes against the hard floor told Mary the other woman followed. Like the night before when Helen took after her, Mary readied herself for a fight, only this time she didn’t need Gerty’s approval, not like she’d wanted Helen’s.

Gerty grabbed her shoulder and whipped her around, hand already raised. Getting used to violence, though she didn’t care for it, Mary devised to give as good as she got. She refused to be a victim. Gerty wouldn’t respect it. No Montana woman would.

Mary jerked back, dodging the bulk of Gerty’s hit. The other woman swore and wound up to go again, but Mary pushed her, sending her to the floor. Gerty screeched and cursed, but Mary didn’t care. All the festering hurt surged to the surface as anger. She couldn’t and never would hurt Helen, not intentionally, but this near stranger who set out to attack her deserved back what she dished out.

Sam hurried around the corner and grabbed Gerty off the floor. He held her as she continued cursing Mary.

“Gert, quit, you’re upsetting the customers,” he hissed, and shot Mary a shaky smile. “I’m real sorry about this.”

Seeing her fight put on hold, the fire in Mary’s anger eased as well. “Yeah, me too.”

She left the groceries in the cart and kept her face down as she ran to the door. Other people had surely heard the insults, the accusations…everything. She blindly jumped into the truck and put it into gear.

The drive from town lingered in a scary blur as Mary stomped into the house. She should have known going to Morris would be a nightmare, but for a moment, she’d thought it would be like her mother and the sisterwives. People would stare at them. Once in a great while someone stopped them or quoted Bible verses, but for the most part, people ignored them.

Mary collapsed at the tiny kitchen table and pulled her hair so hard her eyes watered. So much hate filled her. She’d wanted to slam Gerty. Damn Sam for interfering. If she’d gotten the chance to defend herself and get her aggressions out, she would probably feel a hell of a lot better.

What killed part of her was that Gerty wasn’t wrong. Mary was living with two men with another due home any time. She slept with them both, had sex with them both, and treated them like her husbands. She was breaking the polygamy laws and didn’t have the faith of her mothers to back it up. At least they had a reason. All she had was lust.

Sobs broke free. The townspeople looked down upon her. Her mother-in-law wished she was dead. Her own family wouldn’t speak to her. She couldn’t have known the trade-off would hurt so much.

The door opened and Paul walked in, the grin on his face wider than she’d ever seen. That morning he’d been stressed and busy with hay to deliver—he should have been gone most of the day. She wiped away tears, wishing for privacy to deal with this latest blow.

He froze when he caught sight of her. “What’s wrong, baby? Are you hurt?”

Mary shook her head, the tears blocking her words. She rested her face in her arms and let loose the torrent of sadness. She’d known things would be difficult, harder than she’d ever known, but everything so quickly and so intense…it broke her.

Strong arms wrapped around her and lifted her off the chair. “Mary, what’s wrong? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Everyone hates me,” she said through her sobs, letting go of all ideas of being strong. “Gerty slapped me, and my mother didn’t answer the phone last time I called. Some disgusting man propositioned me, and your mother… I hate this.”

Paul ran his fingers through her hair as she dissolved into tears again. Being strong had gotten her nowhere. Ignoring the ugly faces hadn’t made them go away, and they’d only gotten louder.

“I’m really sorry you’re having a bad day.” Paul kissed her cheek. “How about I make you dinner? You can lie down and have a nice rest.”

She pushed to her feet. “A bad day? How can you trivialize how horrible things have been by calling it a ‘bad day’? Your mother set Thomas up on a date and he went on it, and I couldn’t argue because I asked him to keep things quiet. Then Walter—everyone knows and everyone talks. Some man propositioned me, and Gerty hit me…and your mother… We’ve been married a matter of weeks—weeks!—and it’s blown to hell. I can’t even pretend to be happy. Not anymore.”

He stood, confusion in his expression. “But you’re not unhappy.”

Mary rolled her eyes, anger quickly replacing the despondence she’d felt moments before. “I just said I’m not happy. I told you why and you say I’m ‘not unhappy’? What part of I’m not happy don’t you understand?”

Paul walked to the tiny kitchen sink. He washed his hands and grabbed a glass of water. She wanted to throttle him. He didn’t understand what she struggled with and he wasn’t even trying. Ignoring the issues wouldn’t make them go away. He dried his hands and looked at her for a long minute. Mary met his eyes, and even her anger started to calm in the wake of his confusion and hurt.

“If you’re really unhappy and this isn’t just a bad stretch then you’ll cut your losses and go find something or someone who will make you happy. I couldn’t ask you to stay if you’re truly miserable. I know Thomas and Duane would feel the same.”

His throat worked as he swallowed several times. Mary sighed and sat at the table. She wanted to tell him not to be silly, that she loved him and Thomas, because she did, but after everything hit the fan, she’d realized how alone she was in Montana. The fault wasn’t in the Parabys, but in her. She wanted to say she could tough out the insults and fear, but she didn’t know. Paul joined her at the table, taking the seat across from her. His warm hands wrapped around hers. She looked up, nearly sick with her stomach turning in misery.

“Or, we could fight this and find a way to be at peace with the things around us,” Paul said. “Thomas and I noticed you haven’t made many friends and I’m sorry. It’s going to take a while for people to open up, especially after this, but that means we’ll be more open for you. We’ll do the stuff you would want to do with a girlfriend.”

The first smile she’d felt since Helen’s arrival kicked at her lips. “You’d go with me to get my hair done?”