Yes. Thank goodness. Because, truth be told, I did not wish to face off with my father or Elena ever again. I still had nightmares and scars from the first time.
Momma said something like, “You need to go.” But she wasn’t talking to be heard by anyone other than my father, so I couldn’t be sure of her words.
Tearing my eyes away, I craned my neck, searching the stunned faces for folks from the sheriff’s office. “Where are the sheriff and Jackson?”
“They were dealing with Farmer Miller.” Cletus’s hand smoothed down my back again, his attention on me. “What do you want to do? Should we go help your momma?”
I couldn’t answer his question as I was still stuck on his earlier statement. “What? Miller is here too?”
What a disaster!
“I thought Miller was invited,” Cletus said as he, Shelly, and Beau moved as a unit, ushering me further into the crowd and behind Reverend and Mrs. Seymore. They paid us no mind, busy as they were gaping at the drama in progress.
“Miller was invited?” I found that impossible to believe. Farmer Miller had been badgering my momma about his—or, what used to be his—dairy cows for over a year. I couldn’t imagine my mother had invited him.
This was all happening so fast, I needed to think.
“I didn’t see him on the guest list but it seems like everyone else was invited—except your father. He was—most definitely—not.” Cletus’s words were hushed, presumably because he wanted to hear what was being said between my mother and my father.
Even if he hadn’t wanted to know, there was no escape from their rapidly rising voices.
“—will not tell you again, you and your paramour are not welcome here or within a hundred miles of me or Jennifer. Leave. Now.”
My momma turned like she was going to walk away, but something held her in place—or someone. Suddenly both my father and Billy were talking at once.
“No, no—you don't walk away from me. We're going to talk about thisss right here right now—”
“Get your hand off the lady.” Even from where I stood, I saw Billy's broad shoulders move forward and in front of my mother.
Elena, clearly still miles off her rocker, spoke over Billy, “Don’t you threaten him!”
“You’ll know when I make a threat.” Billy’s tranquil baritone sent another shiver down my spine, but I didn’t mind. As usual, Billy Winston’s calm and understated demonstration of strength often gave me comfort.
Cletus and Beau shared a look, and I suspected they successfully read the other’s thoughts loud and clear this time.
But in the next moment my mother said, “It's fine, Congressman Winston. These people desire a stage, and you can’t expect them to be decent about anything.”
“You sure are one to talk about decency, Diane.” Elena’s typical quiet timidity seemed to be absent tonight. “Everyone knows you’ve been cavorting with that biker trash—”
“Nor will he be satisfied until they’re given a stage, even if it means ruining his own daughter’s engagement party and everyone’s evening.” My mother carried on like Elena hadn’t just interrupted. “I know how his selfish, weaselly little mind works. So go ahead, Kip. What is it you’re so desperate for all these fine people to hear?”
My father didn't respond right away. Rather, he allowed for the crowd to digest my mother's words. Or maybe he wasn't expecting her to acquiesce so quickly. Whatever the reason, he paused long enough for a murmur to rise among the partygoers before lifting his voice.
“As I was saying, I didn't receive an invitation to this here party. I guess being a father isn’t much valued by the world anymore, nor does it mean much these days to people who defy God’s commandments.” My father paused here as though he expected my mother to respond, maybe defending her position on the subject. But when she said nothing, he continued, this time addressing our guests, “This woman—this fallen woman of ill repute—is allowing our beautiful, innocent daughter to marry the town s-simpleton, y’all know I’m right. And sseeing as how my ex-wife has always been a sshrieking banshee, an ungodly, unclean soul, we can't be too surprised by the rudenesss.”
I sought out Cletus’s gaze and saw his focus had turned inward, his eyebrows pinched above his nose like his mind was working through a problem.
“Does he sound drunk?” I asked, wondering if I was the only one who heard the slur in my father’s voice.
“He sounds . . . something. Maybe drunk.” Beau nodded, his eyes wide. “You reckon that’s why he's here? He's drunk and thought it would be a good idea?”
“Billy should antagonize him,” Cletus muttered, like he was speaking to himself.
“Antagonize him? What are you on about?” Beau whispered harshly, echoing my thoughts while my father continued to rant more of the same nonsense about my momma.
Stealthily, I glanced around us to make certain no one had overheard. My skills from a lifetime spent quietly observing resurfaced. No one in our vicinity seemed to be paying us any mind. From the looks of things, they were fully distracted by the unpleasant scene.
However, I noted some people were more absorbed than others. Or rather, absorbed in a different way. Whereas folks like Reverend Seymore, Mrs. Seymore, Genie Lee, and Vanessa Romero were gawking, other folks—like Posey Lamont, Roger Gangersworth, Nancy Danvish, and Nikki Becker—weren’t gawking.
Yes, they were absorbed, but their expressions betrayed more than just simple curiosity or nosiness. Their features and their postures were intent, like they had a horse in this race and wanted to make sure their bets were going to pay off. Perhaps I noticed these individuals in particular because I didn’t trust them, not after their failed partnership with my father and their attempt to gang up on me and my momma last year.
Whatever the reason, and even though I was flustered, I took note.
“—you don’t tell me what to do, woman! ‘Wives, submit to your husbands.’ That’s what the Bible says! But you were willful, you’re to blame, for everything!”
“Now he’s quoting Bible verses?” Shelly seemed to be particularly perturbed by this. “I don’t care if he’s drunk, Cletus is right.”
“How will Billy antagonizing Kip help anything?” Beau looked just as confused as me.
“Billy gets Kip to punch him, then anything else Billy does is self-defense. One punch from Billy could put anyone in the hospital for a while.” Cletus replied. His frown held a distinctly scheming edge.
Though I shouldn’t have been shocked by the direction of Cletus’s thoughts—not after knowing him my whole life and knowing him intimately for over a year—I was.
“Cletus!” I shook my head vehemently. “Violence is never the answer.”
“Never say never.” With that dark proclamation, he pushed me—albeit gently—into Beau’s arms and, before I could comprehend his intentions, he left.
Now I gawked. I reached for him mindlessly, but it was too late. He’d always been surprisingly quick and agile for a man so broad and muscular.
“Do you want me to stop him?” Shelly asked, looking and sounding serious.