Rider’s mouth hung open, staring at her. He tried to say something, anything, and just as he got his voice back, she smack him again. Harder.
“Get off my porch.”
I had never, ever heard that tone in my mother’s voice before. It was terrifying.
“Mom, I—”
“I said,get off my fucking porch!”
Dad and Abuelita were in the door by now. Even they stepped back when those words flew out of her mouth. Hell, Rider took a step back.
“I just got my son back after twelve years of that exact goddamn attitude! He’s gay, Rider! He’s not a murderer, he’s not a pedophile. He’s gay! He happens to like other men instead of women. Marcus had no intention of coming onto you! He had no intention of touching you or making a pass or actually sucking your—” She cut herself off. “Now, instead of dealing with this in New York, where he might have been able to avoid an arrest, you’ve brought the law down on his head. You’ve managed to get my son’s boyfriend arrested. I hope toGodthey can clear that!”
She stared at him, and then looked over at his wife and then back to him.
I didn’t even know my brother’s wife’s name.
“He’s an abomination before God,” Rider said the words, but the conviction was wavering.
“Get off my porch,” Elizabeth Maria Cortez Garcia growled at her son. “And don’t show your face here again until you realize that someone who loves someone is never a sinner!Go!”
Rider turned, jumped, and ran from the porch. He jumped into the car and a minute later, peeled down the driveway.
The woman who was my brother’s wife hung her head and I saw tears in her eyes. So did Abuelita, who rushed over to her and wrapped her in her arms. “Rachel, sweetie…”
She looked up. “We were coming to tell you…I’m pregnant and we’re getting a divorce.”
My mother and father gasped, and I think my grandmother and I did as well.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Abuelita said, hugging her tight.
“I don’t want to cut you out of the baby’s life...”
My mother held up a finger. “Chase, go help your man. I’ll talk to you about Rachel and Rider later. You need to get on the road, now.”
Nodding, I gave her and my grandmother a quick peck on the cheek. Dad got a hug, and Rachel, my now soon to be ex-sister-in-law, got a sympathetic shoulder squeeze. I ran off the porch, and slid in to the car.
I promised myself that Marcus and I would be back for the Pumpkin Patch, and drove away from the farm, not for the last time.
MARCUS
IREALLY HATED HANDCUFFS.
The sheriff had been nice enough to understand and trust me not to do anything. Since I wasn’t planning anything, that was agreeable.
The detective that came to get me from the city was a different story all together. For some reason he wanted me in chains. Hands and ankles. It was only when I puked on his new shoes that he got the idea he was either going to keep me out of them, or he was going to have to figure out how to move a very heavy, very unconscious human.
We flew back from Cincinnati. He insisted on the cuffs the whole way. I tried to explain I wasn’t going to run because I wasn’t guilty. I didn’t want to incriminate myself by trying to get away from him. And on a plane? What was I going to do? Unplug the smoke detector in the bathroom?
Once we landed at JFK, there were two uniformed officers there to take me to central booking, and central booking in a city like New York was its own experience. Loud, crowded, people were milling around everywhere. This was where the criminals of the petty and grand sort met and had pissing contests.
I sat quietly in a holding cell.
I couldn’t believe I was here again.
I thought I had left all this bullshit behind. I had barely made it out of the Conservatory with my degree, last time. I had no reputation, and the few friends I had left had hidden me in dorms and apartments as I just tried to get through the last semester. I was going home every weekend, and had worked my schedule so I could leave campus at two on Thursday.
The whole fucking reason I was a book narrator was because I could do it from home, I didn’t need an employer or a recommendation, or to even talk to anyone from my school to do the job, to get the paycheck.
