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Barking Goats and the Redneck Mafia
By Dolores J. Wilson Medallion Press, Inc. Copyright © 2006 Dolores J. Wilson
All right reserved. ISBN: 978-1-932815-63-4
Chapter One I never expected to spend my wedding night in a maternity ward.
"Mrs. Fortney, you'll have to calm down." Dr. Johns mumbled a few more words behind his mask, but I couldn't hear them because my mind was absorbing the Mrs. Fortney part.
I had acquired that name a mere three hours earlier in a wedding ceremony that would make any bride proud. Until then, I had been Roberta Byrd, Bertie to my friends. A life-long resident of Sweet Meadow, Georgia. Thirty-two years, to be exact. I'd worked in my father's garage and towing business, Byrd and Sons, since my early teens. A few months ago, Pop had turned the whole place over to me. Its newly painted sign proudly boasted Bertie's Garage and Towing.
Since then, my usually dysfunctional life was one pleasantry after another right up to the wedding. I was now Mrs. Arch Fortney. Bertie Fortney. At last, a name I could wear with honor as opposed to the one almost big mistake in my life where I would have married Lee Dew. I shudder each time I realize I could have been Bertie Dew.
Now, a few hours following my and Arch's "I do's," my teeth chattered from the extremely cold delivery room inside Shafer County Hospital. Evidently, my screaming was a little disconcerting to Dr. Johns. He didn't understand this was my first birthing. I had no idea of the pain and agony one experienced to make the wonder of life happen. When I pressed my freshly manicured nails into the flesh of his arm, he ordered the nurse to remove me from the room.
"Out, Mrs. Fortney," the doctor demanded.
"Hey, hey, this can't happen without me." I exhaled an indignant huff. What was he thinking?
While I waited for the doctor to respond, I thanked God it wasn't me who was actually giving birth. It was my best friend in the whole wide world, Mary Lou Jarvis.
Today I married the love of my life, surrounded by my loved ones, and Mary Lou was my matron of honor. It was somewhere in the middle of the conga line she went into labor. Since we were old enough to dream of a husband and children, she and I vowed to be at each other's side when we gave birth.
So there I was, standing in the hallway with my back pressed against the door I'd just been shoved through. Banned from her delivery room because of over-wrought nerves. Running my hand over my beautiful, white satin wedding gown, I brushed away the wrinkles my slouching shoulders had caused. I was Mary Lou's best friend, and I was letting her down.
I'd cracked under the strain. While she showed nothing but the utmost decorum in her last stage of labor, I'd freaked out.
Determination stiffened my spine. I had to get back in there, beside my friend, cheering her on. Someone should knock me on my butt for being so self-absorbed.
I took two steps forward. My veil was caught in the door and sharply pulled me backward. In short order, I landed flat on my backside. I wish God would quit taking everything I said so literally.
Just then, the door opened. "Bertie get in here. The baby's coming," Rex, Mary Lou's husband, called over my head. I scrambled to my feet as quickly as the slipping crinolines, satin material, and highly waxed floor would let me. I swooshed into the delivery room and cocked a half-hearted smile at Dr. Johns. He shot me a full-hearted glare and stuck his head back under a sheet covering Mary Lou's spread legs.
Ten seconds later, he laid an alien on my friend's stomach. I glanced at Rex, who grinned wider than I'd ever seen, except for the time he won a trip to a Trekkie convention in Macon. Had all those sci-fi flicks he watched seeped into his wife's womb?
The doctor gave Rex a pair of scissors, and he cut the umbilical cord. I think he also cut the little fellow free from its mother planet, because, as the nurses wiped away the bloody, ashy covering, a baby boy appeared.
A nurse wrapped him in a paper blanket and stuck him in Mary Lou's arms. She pulled back the covering to look at her naked son.
"Ah, Mary Lou, he has your nose and your mouth and your chin," I said, amazed at how much the tiny person looked like his mom.
"Gee whiz, doesn't he have anything of mine?" Rex whined. Mary Lou stared at her baby. A mixture of fear and joy played across her face. She pulled the blanket further down to reveal his ... lower parts. "Look, honey," she pointed, "he has your fixtures."
"Okay, we gotta weigh and measure him." A nurse plucked the baby from Mary Lou's arms. She appeared to want to change the subject from Rex's fixtures.
Mary Lou looked up at me. "Thank you for being here with me."
I hugged my dearest friend. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."
"Now go on your honeymoon." She fluttered her hand in a dismissive wave. "When you get back, bring your daughter over to play with Rex, the second."
My heart swelled to bursting. Mary Lou had a son, and I had a daughter. Petey. She was part of the wonderful package I'd gotten when I married Arch Fortney. His ten-year-old daughter had stolen my heart from the minute I met her. But over the last few months, we developed a mother-daughter relationship, with the extra added attraction of being friends.
I said goodbye to Mary Lou and Rex, aka Mommy and Daddy, and stole one quick glance at Little Rex, who wailed in protest to the sticking and prodding the nurses were doing to him.
Making my way to the waiting area, I found Arch sitting in his tux, leaning forward, resting his arms on his thighs. To the naked eye, he appeared to be in deep, prayerful thought. I knew he was sleeping. With my dress swooshing with every movement, I took a seat beside him. After a few seconds of me staring at his devilish profile, he woke up and smiled at me.
"It's a boy," I said.
"I know. Mary Lou and Rex's family have gone down to the nursery to wait to see him." He kissed my nose. "You look tired. Are you ready to go home?"
Home. My house was really a home now. "Yeah." He rose and pulled me to my feet.
"Your mom put Petey to bed several hours ago. We'll go by and pick her up in the morning when we leave for our honeymoon."
There was never a spoken decision to take Petey with us on our honeymoon. It was just the most natural thing in the world to include her in the plans. Although we were supposed to leave immediately following the reception to go to Florida, one day's delay wouldn't hurt.
Arch and I headed to the house he'd grown up in. The house I rented after his father, Pete, was placed in a nursing home. The house where Pete's spirit had come to say goodbye the night he died several months ago. I'd been lucky enough to develop a relationship with Pete, the old goat. Although his presence is very strong throughout the house, it only serves to remind me how much I miss him.
But tonight, Arch and I would be home alone to consummate our marriage. Not that we hadn't already consummated it-many times and quite well, I might add-but on this night, Arch wouldn't have to slip out of bed and get home to Petey before she said her prayers. Yes, it would be a night to remember, if I could only stay awake.
* * *
The sun streaked ever so slightly through my bedroom window. Cuddled deep in the warm covers of my bed, a happy sensation inched its way from the tip of my toes to the top of my big hair. Yesterday I'd married the most wonderful man in the world.
The cold November air was nipping at the window, but I was toasty and safe with Arch snuggled against my back. I reached behind me to run my hand along his body. He felt soft and squishy-like a pillow. I threw back the covers and sat up. The cold air assaulted my naked body. When had that happened? I shuffled through the covers like I thought I could have lost Arch in the rumpled mess.
Just then, I heard the front door open and footsteps running down the hall. Petey burst through the door. I snatched the tail end of a sheet and pulled it in front of me. It hid only a minuscule part of my body.
My newly-acquired daughter stopped and pointed. "Are you nekked?"
I gathered more material around me. Arch stepped into view behind her. He smiled widely, enjoying my "Bertie moment" as most people in Sweet Meadow referred to embarrassing happenings. I invented that recognition when I ran over a mattress, or was it when I got run over by an airplane? Or maybe-come to think of it, I'm not sure which mishap officially made my name synonymous with bad luck. I just knew I dragged it around like a dragon tail.
"Good morning, my dearest wife. Did you find my note?" Arch continued to smile like the cat that ate the canary. If he didn't stop enjoying my humiliation so much, canary would be exactly what he got for breakfast.
Petey jumped onto the bed. "Come on. Put your clothes on. We have a surprise for you."
I looked at Arch. "I told you that in the note." He plucked a piece of paper stuck to the back side of my arm and handed it to me. I read aloud, "I've gone to get Petey. Be dressed and ready to leave on our honeymoon. We have a surprise for you."
I pulled the sheet completely around me and made my way to the bathroom. Placing cool hands to my flaming face, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My big hair, which Mary Lou had given me before my wedding, looked as if the mousse and hair spray had gone to war. My hair lost the battle.
Smudged mascara gave my eyes a lovely raccoon glow. Jeeze, I could have at least washed my face before going to bed. But, therein lay my problem. I didn't remember going to bed. My last conscious thought was riding from the hospital toward home with Arch at my side, and me filled with eagerness for our wedding night merriment.
Good Lord. I'd fallen asleep. Arch must have carried me to bed, heavy wedding dress and all. Bless his heart, he had to undress me. I glanced down at my naked body. He did that quite well and without waking me. Wonder what other talents he had I didn't know about?
A loud knock sounded against the bathroom door and reverberated through my throbbing head. "Please hurry. We're dying out here," Petey yelled.
"Okay, I'm coming." I showered and dressed in record time. My embarrassment at being caught naked was quickly replaced with anticipation for the surprise my husband and daughter had for me.
Petey shoved me down the hallway to the front room. "Open the door."
I did. There in my driveway sat a motor home. I'd never been in one, but I'd towed a few into local garages when they'd broken down.
This one wasn't big, but it wasn't small. It wasn't old, but it wasn't new. It was "A motor home?" My voice cracked.
"Yeah, we're going to travel all the way to Florida in it. We'll stay in campgrounds and have cookouts and do all kind of things. Isn't it terrific?" Petey was so delighted I couldn't very well dampen her joy, but the truth was I'd never really gotten the whole concept of R Ving.
It looked like a lot of work, which I thought was what you wanted to get away from while on vacation. But who was I to question something I didn't know anything about, and something that brought so much happiness to Petey? It was part of being a mommy.
"It was ready to go after the reception last night," Arch said. "Your mom packed it with food and made sure we had everything we'll need. I loaded our suitcases this morning. Let's go." His enthusiasm matched his daughter's.
I marched to the home that would take me away from my home. The death march was playing somewhere in the back of my mind.
Petey climbed in first. I followed close behind. Arch slammed the door and made his way to the driver's seat. Petey dumped a box of crayons onto the dinette table and began coloring. I climbed into the passenger seat at the front.
Pivoting in my seat, I looked to the back of the compact coach. There seemed to be everything one would need to face the camping world. Refrigerator. Stove. Sink. A bed way in the back. Television. All the comforts of home. Maybe I'd been a little hasty in thinking this wasn't a good thing.
I looked back at Arch who was studying the instrument panel as if he was the pilot of a 747. "All systems go?" I asked.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Just checking it out." He cranked the engine, and we were off.
"Where did you get this?"
"I borrowed it from another teacher at school." Arch pulled onto the main highway. "Jed and his wife and three kids use it all the time."
I looked around one more time. "What do they do, hang the kids on nails?"
"This is a fine coach, and it holds a lot more than you think. They gave me lessons." Arch reached across the aisle and took my hand. "Don't look so worried. This will be the experience of a lifetime."
That's what I was afraid of. We'd only known each other seven months. He knew so little about me, especially my lifetime experiences.
"I'm hungry." Petey had been coloring for about thirty minutes.
"Me, too." I leaned back in my seat and waited for Arch to pull into a drive-thru. After a few seconds, I realized he was staring at me; at least as much as he could and still keep his eyes on the road. I looked around at Petey. She was staring at me, too.
"What?"
"Well, we packed food so we could eat on the road." Arch smiled.
"Yeah, Grandma packed oatmeal. I like oatmeal." Petey started calling my mother Grandma the minute Arch and I decided to get married.
A knot twisted in the middle of my stomach. My mother didn't believe in instant anything. If she'd packed oatmeal, it would be the long-cooking kind. I didn't do long-cooking.
"That sounds good to me." Arch squeezed my hand and released it.
"You mean you want me to cook oatmeal in here? Now? Are you at least going to stop?"
"Naw, Jed says his wife-actually he calls her his old lady-cooks while they're going down the road." My new husband twisted his face and snickered. It wasn't a pretty sight.
Balancing on unsteady legs, I walked back to the clean and orderly galley area. From under the sink, I pulled a pot which looked about the right size for oatmeal. Turning on the faucet, I waited for water to magically appear. It didn't. I pushed the lever open as wide as it would go.
Yippee! "We don't have any water." I'd been saved.
"Oh, you have to turn on the pump. See that white button on the wall behind the sink? Flip it on," Arch called over his shoulder.
I did as instructed. Click. Water spewed from the tap with so much force it knocked the pan into the sink and sprayed water all over the cabinet, onto the floor, all over me and Petey and I think some went as far as the driver's seat.
"Damn." I hurried to turn off the water.
Petey covered her mouth and giggled. "Mommy said a bad word."
"Everything okay back there?" Arch's inquiring mind wanted to know.
"Yeah, it'll just take a second to clean this up." First, I dried water from Petey's hair. "I'm sorry I said that. Sometimes I have a trash mouth, but I'll try to do better." Petey giggled again.
I wiped almost every inch of the kitchen. Then started on my oatmeal mission again. I set the filled pan onto the flame and stood next to the stove to make sure the pot didn't slide. Once the water started to boil, I poured in the carefully measured oats and stirred as directed on the box.
We were traveling smoothly and safely down the highway. Beautiful Georgia scenery whipped by the windows. Arch had turned on the radio, and Alan Jackson sang "It's Five O'clock Somewhere." Petey was putting away her crayons and water-spotted coloring book. I was cooking breakfast for my little family. All was right with the world.
Standing by the stove, looking out the front windshield, I saw a small car dart from a side street into our path. Arch used a tactical maneuver, swerving to the right and bumping over the curb. I'm not sure what he did next, because the pot of oatmeal slid from the stove, hit the floor with a thud, and erupted like a geyser. Gummy matter hit the roof, kitchen cabinets, the vinyl floor covering and, of course, my hair.
"That's gonna leave a mark." Petey wiped oats from the table.
"Damn." I covered my mouth. "Sorry, I've got to do something about my trash mouth."
Petey snickered.
Arch had gotten our tank under control and back on the road. "Everyone okay?"
"Yeah, I'll just be cleaning this up now." While I wiped down everything from ceiling to floor, my loving husband pulled into McDonald's and bought breakfast for us. That was all I wanted him to do to start with.
A few hours later, we were cruising southbound Interstate 75 singing "A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall" when I realized I needed a pee break. "Can we stop at the next bathroom?"
"We don't have to stop," Petey said. "You can go while we're going down the road. Mr. Marshall showed us how to step on the pedal to flush it. Huh, Daddy?"
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Barking Goats and the Redneck Mafia by Dolores J. Wilson Copyright © 2006 by Dolores J. Wilson. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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