Good Intentions (Samogon 1) by Eric Gilliland Page B

that money.
     
    ***
     
    As Chris arrived at the farm, Rochelle ran out to meet him. She had been eager for him to return since the moment he left. As she neared the truck, she could sense that Chris was bothered. She took a quick look in the back of the truck and saw it was empty and figured he must have made the sale.
    Standing still with her arms folded, she waited for Chris to come to her. “What’s wrong?”
    “It didn’t happen.” Chris headed for the work shop. Rochelle reached out to him but he kept walking. She watched him for a moment as he walked by then followed after him.
    Once in the work shop, Rochelle inquired about what happened. Chris took a mere five minutes to sum up all that transpired in the past twenty-four hours.
    “Well, there’s no reason to mull over it. It’s done. You were able to keep the brandy, so all’s not lost.” Rochelle wrapped her arms around Chris, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Come in the house and eat. Mom has meatloaf on the table leftover from lunch, much more than she and I can eat.” She took his hand and led him back to the house.
    Across the road, parked up a service path was a leather-clad rider on a red Ducati motorcycle. He watched the young couple walk hand-in-hand toward the house, then he pulled a cell phone from his coat pocket and dialed a number. A minute later he hung up. After Rochelle and Chris entered the house, the Ducati rider sped off.
    Rochelle prepared a plate for Chris, two large slices of meatloaf with gravy, mashed potatoes, and asparagus. While Chris ate, Rochelle sat across from him watching him. Her mother walked in and, seeing Chris, she gave him a gentle kiss on the top of the head like she always did her daughter.
    Louise Donovan was still mourning her husband. Her cheerful spirit was lost and she appeared to have aged twenty years in the past thirty days. She spent a lot of her day in the bedroom sleeping while her daughter handled the cooking and cleaning. Her husband’s passing was an emotional toil that was getting the best of her. This afternoon, though, Louise wanted to have her talk with Chris about the farm. She couldn’t put it off any longer.
    “This farm has to generate income to pay taxes and to pay off the mortgage. I’m too tired to think about going back to teaching. Besides, a part-time teacher’s salary won’t pay the debts and sustain the two of us.”
    “Momma, don’t you worry. Everything will be all right,” Rochelle said, trying to comfort her mother.
    “Be still, I’m speaking with Chris and don’t try to patronize me. He’s the one who has to work the farm, not you. I know you mean well, child, but this falls on Chris.”
    Rochelle was hurt by her mother’s strong words. Like her father had done before, her mother was looking to Chris and it hurt. She wanted so much to be the one the family turned to, but her youth and lack of experience prevented her from understanding that when it came to the farm, Chris was the one the family had to turn to because he was the only one that knew how to farm.
    “Ms. D., the corn will pay for some of the taxes. I’m also willing to front you the money to pay the taxes now against a fair share of the corn at harvest time.”
    “And what about my husband’s other source of income? Do you intend to continue with that?”
    Rochelle was surprised that her mother knew about her dad’s moonshine, but not Chris. After all, it was all being done right there in front of her. How many times did Chris come and go with truckloads of fruit? How often did the sweet corn not find its way to market after being harvested? How often did he or Mr. Donovan make unexplained road trips that sometimes lasted two days? Not once did Louise ask her husband what he was doing or where he was going. She just accepted it and minded her own business. Richard was doing what he was supposed to be doing—taking care of his family.
    “I do, Ms. D. And I have been.” There was no other