The Crown Jewels (51 page)

I smiled. It was true. Georgia and her father had been very close, so close in fact that I was envious as we were growing up. My family was so broken, so messed up, I yearned for a family like the Hopes. Instead, here I was sitting across from my father, hoping he didn’t get too drunk today to even talk to him.

I was used to it, and I loved him, but I’d be lying if I didn’t wish a million times for things to be different. I looked around our trailer, at the worn out couch, the fraying curtains, the stained carpet, and wondered how much longer I would be stuck here.

I felt trapped, but what could I do? My father needed me, there was no way he’d ever be able to care for himself. I had these fantasies of being Crit’s wife, living at the farm, in his happy, gorgeous, clean farmhouse, raising babies and cooking dinner in the slow cooker, while baking and watching Crit through the kitchen window.

But that’s all it was. A fantasy. Crit wasn’t anywhere near ready for that, that much was obvious.
I was getting way ahead of myself
, I thought, as I looked over at my father. As long as I was needed here, this is where I would be.

I’d never abandon him like my mother did. Never.

A knock sounded at the door, startling both of us. My heart skipped a beat, because the only person who ever came by was Crit.

A slow smile spread across my face as I walked to the door.

It faded quickly when I saw Lincoln standing there, his Mercedes parked behind him looking as much out of place as he did.

“Lincoln,” I murmured. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you flowers,” he said, pulling a huge bouquet of pink roses from behind his back.

“Why?” I asked bluntly.

“Because I figured you had enough time to reconsider by now,” he said, with an arrogant smile.

“Reconsider what?” I asked. I was still standing in the doorway, blocking his view.

“New York, silly,” he said.
Did this man not remember the horrible things he had said to me?

“Lincoln, I told you I’m not going to New York with you,” I said.

“Ruby?” my dad called from the table. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, Dad —,” I yelled back.

“Is that your father?” Lincoln asked, pushing me aside and barging into the house.

“Hey —,” I yelled, as I watched him stride into the kitchen, his hand outstretched towards my frail, surprised father.

“Lincoln LaCroix, sir, nice to meet you,” he said, his hand shoved into my father’s face. A slick smile appeared on his face as my father took his hand hesitantly, and stood up. When I saw the look in my father’s eye, I knew he could see right through Lincoln. The one thing dad always said he was most proud of was his ability to sense if a man was good or not.

He always said that was why he liked the Hope’s so much. They were good people. By his squinted, steely gaze as he sized up Lincoln, this sharp-dressed, over-confident stranger, it was clear was seeing something completely different than when he looked at Crit.

“Who are you?” my father asked bluntly.

“A friend of Ruby’s, sir. Didn’t she tell you?” Lincoln looked back at me and winked. My stomach felt sick, and the overly sweet scent of the roses in my hands didn’t help.

“Is that so?” my father asked, stealing a glance at me, before he pushed his chair back from the table and pulled himself to his full height. He looked so weak and frail, standing there beside Lincoln. The contrast of Lincoln’s healthy youthfulness was a stark contrast to my father’s frailty. But even still, the look in my father’s eye was clear. He wasn’t buying Lincoln’s story for a second.

“Yes,” Lincoln replied, walking over to me and putting his arm around my shoulder possessively. “Ruby and I are sweet on each other.”

I shrugged his arm off of me and took a step away from him.

“Lincoln, I told you on the phone that I don’t want to see you anymore.”

His eyes hardened, his smile plastered on his face so tightly that it eerily reminded me of the scary plastic clown faces of the water balloon game that Georgia and I spent hours playing at the State Fair.

“I know you did, Ruby. But, like I said, I figured you might have come to your senses by now.”

“What in the Sam Hill is your problem? Have you lost your ever lovin’ mind, Lincoln? I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Ruby, you’d best reconsider that decision.”

“Sounds to me like my Ruby’s sure of her decision, Mr. LaCroix. I think it’s best you be leavin’ now,” my father said.

“I don’t think so,” Lincoln said, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out a black handgun.

I gasped and screamed, the roses falling to my feet.

“Lincoln!” I hollered.

He spun around, waving the gun around, pointing at my father and then me.

“Hands up!” he yelled, his sickly smile replaced by an ugly sneer. We put our hands up, and my father stepped over to me, standing in front of me protectively.

“Now, son, look here,” he began. “This isn’t necessary. Put the gun down - we can work this out.”

“Fuck you, old man!” Lincoln yelled.

“Lincoln,” I said, looking over my father’s shoulder, our hands raised high in the air. “Please, put the gun down!” My voice was frantic, and hot adrenaline began rushing through my veins. My eyes darted around the house, looking for a way out, a weapon, anything. There were knives in the kitchen and a canister of mace on my key chain by the front door, which was just beyond my grasp. My mace would be no match to his bullets, though.

“Now, son, you know I can’t let you just come into my house and hold us at gunpoint like this. I just won’t have it,” my father’s voice was clear and strong, with not a hint of fear in it.

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do old man? Look at you! You’re a frail, weak, old man!” Lincoln said.

“Why are you doing this?” I pleaded. “Please just leave!”

“I will leave, Ruby. But not without you.”

“What! No! Lincoln, I hardly know you. Why are you doing this?”
“Because I can.”

“I’m sorry, son, but Ruby isn’t leaving with you,” my father replied, his voice steely and hard as he pushed me further behind him.

Lincoln took two steps forward, bringing his face mere inches from my father’s.

“What are you going to do about it, old man?” he sneered.

“You’re not taking my daughter,” my father insisted.

I jumped when I heard the gunshot. My father crumpled to the floor in front of me, and I screamed.

“No! Noooo!” I yelled, sinking to my knees. There was blood everywhere, I couldn’t tell where he was shot. His eyes were wide-eyed and he looked at me helplessly, as he tried to speak. No words came out, though. “Daddy!”

Lincoln’s cold hand snaked around my arm, pulling me up.

“Move!” he demanded, pressing the searing hot gun against my cheek, and pulling me out the front door. I tried fighting back, but I was drained, terrified, and weak. I struggled against him, not caring if he shot me, the sight of my bleeding father throwing me into shock.

“No!” I yelled, as he tried to push me into his car. He moved the gun away from my face for a second to grab me and I pushed against him and turned away to run.

He was right behind me, though.

“You bitch!” he yelled, pulling my hair. “I said, you’re coming with me!”

When his gun hit the back of my head, everything went black.

Crit

Hank Haggard had called and invited me to dinner. I was hoping like hell he had some good news for me. Some kind of information that I could use against LaCroix, some kind of solution, because as hard as I had tried, I couldn’t come up with one myself.

I’d asked every one I knew for a loan at this point, swallowing my pride and telling half the folks in town my personal business. It hurt like hell to not only open up about things that I was taught to keep to myself, but to have to admit how clueless I was, not to mention that I was so broke I didn’t have two sticks to rub together. That hurt more than anything.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one, though. Every person I talked to had their own story of how they had gotten down on their luck. Times were hard, and when you lived in a town like Sugar Hill, there wasn’t a lot of money left over to fall back on.

Most people I knew were just one illness or lost job away from homelessness. I got offered a whole lot of pie and casseroles, though. Lots of labor offered up from the men, too. When it came to heart, we had an abundance of it. If you were in need of cash, you were shit out of luck.

I couldn’t bear to sell the horses. They were like family, and I didn’t even want to bring that up as an option. I loved them, but truth was they were just another mouth to feed and house. But still, I couldn’t let them go as much as I could let go of Jesse, or Seth.

When I got to the Haggards, Hank greeted me at the door with a strong pat on the back and a reassuring smile.

“Good to see you, son! How are you holding up, Crit?” he asked, following me through the door. The savory smell of pot roast led me right to the kitchen, where I gave his wife a kiss on the cheek.

“Dinner will be ready shortly. You just relax a few minutes, darlin’,” she said.

A wave of nostalgia washed over me, and I realized how much I truly missed my parents. They were my foundation, and now I was forced to be the rock for every one else now that they were gone. But I was left with nothing to lean on myself. A pang of sadness pierced my heart, and I pushed it away quickly.

“Would you like a beer?” Hank asked. He returned my grateful smile and handed me an ice cold bottle out of the fridge.

“Thanks,” I said, sitting down with him at the dining room table.

“So, any news from your friend in New York?” I asked. I couldn’t wait through a bunch of small talk. “Time’s a tickin’ and I’m gettin’ real antsy, Hank.”

“That’s why I wanted to see you, Crit. I talked to my buddy today. He told me some very interesting things about Lincoln LaCroix. He’s got quite the reputation of being a complete prick.”

“I’m not surprised by that,” I said.

“My friend is still digging. He doesn’t know LaCroix personally, but he has friend’s in high places. He’s asking around. So far, all we have are rumors. And in addition to being one of the most arrogant pricks in the Big Apple, he’s also known as one of the shadiest. Lots of people have been burned in business transactions and refuse to work with him again. There’s even rumors of him being investigated by the IRS, but my friend wasn’t sure if that was just a rumor or not. He’s going to call me back as soon as he knows more.”

“Any idea why the IRS is investigating him?” I asked, a tiny spark of hope lighting up inside of me.

“He didn’t know. But he has a friend that works at the bureau. If LaCroix is in trouble, he’ll find out.”

“Thank you, Hank. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

“I wish I could do more, Crit. I’m sorry you’re in this situation, son.”

“It’ll work out however it’s supposed to work out, I suppose.”

“Son,” Hank said, putting his hand on my shoulder and peering into my eyes. “Your parents would be so proud of you. The way you’ve taken care of everyone. Of the farm. The way you’re handling this now.”

His words should have been comforting, but they weren’t. I hadn’t handled jack shit. Not yet. Nothing was getting fixed. Every new thing I tried just ended up with me drinking my sorrows away till I slept myself drunk. And then I just kept getting up and doing it all over again.

“Thanks, Hank,” I said. What else was I going to say?
Can I come live with you? Can my family come live with you? And our horses? How about all the farm hands I employ? Can you take them on, too?

I couldn’t say any of that. I was in this alone. The only way out was going to be if I talked some sense in Lincoln LaCroix myself somehow.

Georgia

“Hey, Norma,” I said as she came around the corner of her counter to give me a hug. She smelled like peach pie, and it made me tempted to skip right to dessert. “Seen Ruby?”

“Ain’t seen hide nor hair of that girl today,” she replied. “Y’all meetin’ for dinner?”

“Sure are,” I replied.

“I’ll get you girls the special. Meatloaf tonight,” she said, as she followed me to my favorite booth in the back of the diner. Norma’s meatloaf was my favorite and Ruby and I had dinner here every week just so we could stuff ourselves full of it. Nobody in Sugar Hill made meatloaf like Norma did.

“You know it’s my favorite,” I said. I was surprised Ruby wasn’t here. She always beat me here every week, because Beau was always making me late. That man was hornier than a toad these days, always beggin’ me for just one more roll in the hay before I left, and then pulling me back for another. I didn’t mind, though. It was nice to be wanted. It was nice to be loved.

Everyone should feel this
, I thought to myself. It made me sad to think that some people went their whole life without ever feeling that kind of love, that kind of passion, and closeness with another person.