Warning: Language could be rough. People could be mean.

“No Beth, not that. Don’t do that,” Lindsey’s voice rose slightly with her alarm.

Beth looked up from the three packages of steak she had tossed into the shopping carriage to Lindsey then back to the steaks, “Why not? What’s wrong with them?”

“Those aren’t as good as the porterhouse and the porterhouse is on sale. So, you can get the better steak for less money than usual,” Lindsey patiently explained. “You do pay for the bone with porterhouse but that is what makes it such a sweet cut. Besides, Puddles would probably enjoy chomping on the bone when we’re done.”

“Great! Sounds like a plan. Put these back on the rack and get me three of the porterhouse,” Beth handed over the rejected beef as she spoke. “Better make that six, if they’re on sale.”

“Two, right, not three? I mean four, not six,” Lindsey asked as she tried to follow the directions.

Beth shook her head no. “You, Stu, and me. That makes three. For a second evening of fine dining it makes six.”

“Steak’s out of my budget,” Lindsey explained as she placed four packages of steak in the carriage.

“Lindsey, this is the grocery shopping for the house. This is the family budget, not your budget.”

“Beth, I don’t expect you to take care of feeding me too,” Lindsey’s embarrassment flushed in her cheeks. “I mean, look at all you’re doing for me. I should be paying you for the rent and utilities and laundry and …,”

Beth managed to stifle her scream as the girl before her continued the painful explanation. Beth gently rubbed her aching forehead trying to give herself a minute to think of an appropriate rebuttal. In the week since Stu’s day long visit to the hospital, Lindsey made huge gains adjusting to family life. She seemed to be working out a spot of her own in the Pretty household. Regardless of it were cook or extra pair of hands, Lindsey seemed to finally understand she had a place under Beth’s roof. Of course, the labels of step-daughter and granddaughter had been a major turning point for the young woman. Still, there were these incredibly sad moments where Lindsey’s years of isolation and abuse twisted her expectations back towards the coldly familiar embrace of abandonment from her youth.

“…so I don’t think you should give me nothing else. It just ain’t right,” Lindsey reached her conclusion with a confident nod. “I can’t be taking from you.”

“There’s where our problem is then,” Beth’s reply rumbled low in her chest like a heartbreak.

Lindsey stared at her in confusion.

“You don’t expect anything.”

“Right,” Lindsey answered but her confidence was tucking tail with the gravity evident in Beth’s voice.

“A relationship is fifty/fifty or eighty/twenty or ten/ninety sometimes but it is always a give and take. To be part of our family, you have to be prepared to take. If you can’t do that then you’re being unfair to the rest of us,” Beth said quietly.

By the stunned look on the girl’s face, Beth was satisfied her statement had completely disrupted Lindsey’s pre and poorly conceived notions about family life. Beth took hold of the carriage to continue down the meat counter. She left Lindsey speechless in her wake. Beth’s heart hammered triple time with worry Lindsey would bolt from the conversation instead of facing Beth: facing her fears.

“Wait, wait,” Lindsey stammered and hurried to catch up with Beth. “You can’t say that and walk away. Wait a minute. I contribute to the house. I help out with Stu and Puddles and I can’t do laundry because of the basement stairs but…,”

“… you’ve been cooking three meals a day for the last week. And I must say, they’re better than anything I could make,” Beth said. “They’re better than most of the take out I get.”

Lindsey was frowning, “Right, well, I did work in a restaurant. The food should be good. Wait! Don’t try to distract me. You said fifty/fifty. I give at least…,”

“You give more than fifty percent, Lindsey,” Beth interrupted, “but to get you to take anything is like pulling teeth. The least you could do for this family is let me get the groceries.”

Lindsey’s frown deepened. “This is reverse psychology. I think you’re trying to manipulate me.”

Beth grinned and winked. Lindsey blushed hotly but quickly dissolved into giggle.

“Okay, I’m listening. Really Beth, I’m still trying to figure it all out.” Lindsey surrendered, “It’s just so different from growing up in other people’s houses. Places you don’t know the rules until you break them. Then it’s way too late for sorry.”

Beth took Lindsey’s chin in her hand. She lifted it so the girl could look her square in the eye. “It is never too late for sorry. As long as there is air in your lungs and remorse in your heart, forgiveness is only a last breath away.”

Lindsey swallowed hard at the conviction in Beth’s voice. Gathering her own courage, Lindsey replied, “Why don’t you tell me what to do this time ‘cause I’m kind of lost. Besides, I’m getting a headache from thinking too much.”

“Thank God but I am sorry about your head,” Beth said. “I would like it if you could accept living with Stu and me and the daily benefits that come along with that.”

“Like what?” Lindsey asked.

“Like, no rent, no food money, no laundry money, rides when you need them unless you want to go with a friend, use of the phone and internet within reason…,:

“Okay, I think we have take covered. What do I give?”

“Keep helping out with Stu and Puddles, keep cooking those great meals, help me keep the house tidy, help me out with grocery shopping because I’m in way over my head here. Dylan always did the shopping,” Beth confessed.

“That’s it? That easy?” Lindsey questioned.

Beth replied, “It sounds easy but it’s living it day to day that’s the trick. Now, what do you think about a turkey for Sunday.”

“Don’t get a breast. Go for the whole bird or don’t bother. Even if nobody eats the drumsticks, they flavor the rest of the meat while it cooks,” Lindsey spoke over her shoulder as she headed for the poultry counter. “Besides, I have this great recipe for fricassee I’ve been wanting to try out on turkey leftovers.”

“Whole, fresh turkey it is then. You pick it out, I’ll pay for it, you cook it, and I’ll eat it; a division of labor,” Beth sighed in relief.

Lindsey placed the turkey in the roasting pan. Getting it to the sink, cleaned and in the pan, left her panting. Her body was healing but her strength was still lacking. She quickly checked over to the kitchen table to make sure Stu didn’t notice her predicament. For her, feeling the results of her beating was far easier to endure than needing to lie to Beth about her progress.

“You started without me?” Beth asked from the doorway across the room.

Lindsey gave a lopsided grin as she watch Beth plant a kiss on Stu’s forehead. Stu startled awake from behind the newspaper.

“Damn Soxs, I know they’re gonna blow it again,” Stu muttered to cover his snoozing.

“Give ‘em a chance. They did good last year,” Beth encouraged him before stepping over to Lindsey. “Want me to put the turkey in the oven for you?”

“God damn it all to Hell, mothers are psychic! How could she know I was hurting?” Lindsey thought to herself before replying, “I gotta get the stuffing into him first.”

“Right. And, I’d find the stuffing where?” Beth pulled open a cabinet door to look for a familiar red box.

“I made it last night. It’s in the fridge. Bottom shelf. Off to the left. Plastic white bowl.”

“Okay,” Beth trotted over to retrieve the item.

Lindsey heard music start behind her. She was focusing on buttering the bends and crannies of the paled skinned bird before her when Beth returned with the stuffing. The other woman was half humming and half singing. Lindsey ignored her as she tended to the turkey. Dinner was a serious business for Lindsey. In fact, anything involving food was serious. She learned early that if food went bad then she went hungry.

Lindsey was starting to put stuffing inside the turkey when Beth hip checked her. Lindsey looked up and saw Beth seemed not to even know she had done it as she swayed with the music. Lindsey continued what she was doing until she got a much firmer hip check which knocked her two steps away from her task.

The grin on Beth’s face told Lindsey the action was no accident. “Beth, what do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Beth answered back as she continued in time with the music.

“Well, it looks like you’re having a seizure,” Lindsey thought to herself but only shrugged in reply.

“I’m dancing. I love this song,” Beth said before singing the chorus of the one time Sister Sledge hit out loud.

Stu chirped up from across the room, “Don’t worry, Lindsey. Her attempts at dancing never last long. Something always gets broken.”

“Thanks for the support, Dad,” Beth called over her shoulder and promptly knocked over the trash can. “Shoot!”

“See what I mean.”

Lindsey laughed so hard it made her ribs hurt. She didn’t care. The pain seemed worth it. Beth grinned back at her as she cleaned up her mess.

“Hey Beth,” Lindsey got her laughter under control, “after you wash your hands the turkey should be ready for the oven.”

“Great. Then what?”

“We get to peel potatoes.”

“Ungh! I’d better crank up the central air.”

Beth and Lindsey sat at the island. They chatted idly while peeling the raw potato skins onto several sheets of newspaper. Stu was dozing at the kitchen table behind them with his newspaper raised. The rattle of the front door lock made Lindsey sit up and take notice. The clink of the door opening made the hairs on the back of Lindsey’s neck stand on end.

“Beth?” a male voice called from the front door.

“Kitchen,” she shouted back.

“Oh cripes, it’s the Freakin’ Friar Tuck!” Stu announced and tossed his newspaper down on the table with a flash of indignation.

Before Lindsey could ask what was happening, the visitor entered the kitchen. He was very tall with broad shoulders. His belly was a little paunch hidden mostly by his clothing. The man’s hair was short but his mustache and beard were full and long. He worn floor length brown robes tied at the waist with a rope. Lindsey’s worry only increased when he leaned over and kissed Beth on the cheek.

“What are we having for dinner? It smells great,” he said as he sat down in the chair across from Lindsey.

Beth continued her peeling as she replied, “I didn’t expect you today. You usually call. Something up?”

The man feigned a stricken look at the comment. Stu, not hearing the banter, got out of his chair muttering insults. He grabbed his cane and headed for the door.

“If he’s staying, I’m going to my room. Not gonna listen to his sanctimonious crap…,”

“Dad, you can go up to your room for a while but we are all having dinner together tonight. No leaving the table until after dessert is finished. No exceptions. No foul language. No antagonizing each other. Those are the rules. I said so.”

Beth stated in the most monotone voice Lindsey had ever heard. It was like she had said it all a hundred times before.

“Beth, you can not expect me to …,” Stu tried to argue.

Beth didn’t let him finish, “…, I expect you to do this for me. End of discussion. That’s all I expect, Dad.”

The old man stopped. He grumbled. He lowered his head in shame. One hand snuck up and dabbed at both his eyes.

“Sorry, Beth. I forget sometimes. I’ll do it for you.”

“Thanks, Dad. Why don’t you put on your Sunday clothes for dinner? Lindsey hasn’t seen all your ties yet. We’ll call you when we’re ready to sit down.” Beth remained focused on her peeling.

The old man nodded and shuffled out of the room.

“Lindsey is it? Let me introduce myself. I’m Father Breheny,” the brown robed man extended his hand across the island.

Lindsey hesitated.

“He’s a Franciscan, honey, he’s harmless,” Beth looked up and encouraged Lindsey with a smile.

Lindsey took the handshake. However, she tried to subtly wipe her hand clean on her apron when it was released.

“He’s also my brother, the Father.”

“Creepy,” Lindsey thought to herself.

“So Mark, what is it? Gas money?” Beth grinned as she asked.

“Nope the Bishop’s got me covered this month. I even got a little extra for gum,” he replied happily.

The man gave a broad smile. Lindsey realized immediately he looked nothing like Beth. The two shared no physical resemblance at all. It was as if they were merely familiar strangers.

“What is it then? You want to stay in the condo for a couple days or is it baseball tickets or is it both? Tell me,” Beth continued the guessing game with a chuckle.

“Red Sox ticket?” Lindsey gasped out loud at the thought.

“Yep. Oh wait, do you like baseball?” Beth asked. She turned her full attention to Lindsey, “I have box seats behind home plate. It was a present form my production team on our tenth anniversary. We can go to any game you want. Nikki and Dylan hate baseball. Stu’s too fragile to get through a whole game. That’s one of the reasons why I bought the downtown condo. He and I could stay over without it being in hotels every time. You and I could do that. You know, go in for the weekend, see the game, and then go shopping. I could get a nurse to stay with Stu or we could take him with us. Hell, we could take the nurse too!” Beth was very excited by the prospects.

Lindsey was wide eyed and speechless. All she could do was nod her head yes. It sounded like a great adventure.

“Oh, I hate to interrupt you two but I am the guest,” the priest pointed at himself. “And, no thank you. I’m not here for tickets or a condo weekend. Much as I would like to accept that offer.”

“Oh, let me guess again. Wait. Mom called you? Right? Am I right?” Beth was getting very suspicious of her brother’s motives.

The man groaned, “She called alright. I was on retreat and she left a million messages. Each of them saying exactly, call me or call me now. No details.” The priest’s features softened into a sincere, pleading look, “What’s up, Beth? I can’t really deal with her level of drama at this moment in my life. The retreat was wonderful but draining. I’m at a low ebb. The retreat was for female survivors of domestic abuse. Their unbearable pain really bleeds my soul. Please, tell me what Mom wants before I call her back.”

“She’s only worried about me but she shouldn’t, Mark,” Beth said succinctly in an effort to ease her brother’s anguish without giving up too many details of her own torment.

“Her too! What a shock? They just don’t know you like I do,” his lips quirked up. “A colleague of mine left a message saying you backed out of a fund raiser because you were in the clutches of Satan’s spawn.”

Lindsey cut his smirk dead with just three little words, “Jesus Fucking Christ!”

The room fell silent.

“Oh, Mister Shitty Fuckerson! I said that out loud! I’m so lame!” Lindsey silently abused herself.

Lindsey dropped her eyes to the floor. She waited to a reprimand for her vulgar words. Instead, a warm hand found her hand and gave a strong squeeze. Before Lindsey could manage to utter an apology, Beth spoke.

“Sometimes my brother talks without thinking. He’s harmless enough but not in any way intuitive,” Beth whispered to the girl. “Try to forgive his impulsive speech.”

Lindsey forced herself to look up and face Beth. The unconditional support evident in the woman’s eyes threatened to undo Lindsey’s fragile grip on her emotions.

“Would either of you like to get me up to speed before I cause real and permanent damage here? I mean, I’ve already alienated Stu forever,” the priest looked desperate as he spoke.

“Mark, let me introduce you to Lindsey Lee Ash, my step daughter,” Beth could not disguise the pride in her voice.

The priest thought for a brief moment as he studied the two women. He then got up and walked around to Lindsey’s side of the island.

“Please, let me begin again. I’m Mark Breheny. I would be your uncle,” he opened his arms wide and waited.

“He’s very sentimental,” Beth said with a nod. “Pa said it was his worst fault.”

Lindsey felt incredibly awkward. She understood it was her decision whether to embrace the man or not. She didn’t know him. Why hug him? Then again, she didn’t know Beth until a few weeks ago but she gave her a chance and things were going along well. Lindsey decided to take another chance. She opened her arms and the priest gave her a careful hug; like she was a precious, breakable china doll.

“Thanks to you Lord, I hold my niece close to my heart. Protect her always from harm and evil,” she heard him whisper before he let go. He turned his full attention back to Beth, “So, you and Dylan are making a home with Lindsey…?”

“Dylan won’t accept any responsibility for his actions. I asked him to leave. I’ve asked Lindsey to stay here with me. She has a right to know her family,” Beth stated firmly but her face showed the strain of telling her brother the truth.

Lindsey’s heart ached at the pain in Beth’s eyes. Lindsey reached across the island and retook Beth’s hand. They both squeezed tight to support each other as their common pain was exposed.

Lindsey thought to herself, “I can do this for her. I can help Beth a little with this. I can be here for her.”

The priest snagged each of their free hands in each of his own two. He lowered his head in reverence. Lindsey was convinced she heard a sniffle of tears. She was not sure if at least one was not her own.

“Thank you, Lord, for delivering my sister from the clutches of that man as you have always delivered your children from their oppressors. Give her the strength to continue onward. Give our troubled brother, Dylan, the strength and courage to see his errors, repent his life, reclaim his dignity and fulfill his promise to us and to you. And thank you God for Lindsey! Thank you for bringing her home to us; her earthly family.”

All was quiet for a brief moment.

“When he does the ‘God’ thing he is totally serious,” Beth explained with a laugh.

The Monk looked peeved. “I still have some more questions,” he announced but everybody knew he was looking for permission to continue. Neither Beth nor Lindsey spoke. “Fine, then stop me when I’ve gone too far. Stu’s cool with Lindsey but Dylan isn’t.” Silence led him forward, “I got a bad feeling Nikki is not okay and our mom is clueless.” He could hear the birds outside. “Okay, I think I get almost everything but what is it with the Most Rev CornBall and the spawn of Satan?”

Lindsey snatched her hands back. “Got to check on dinner.”

“Lindsey,” Beth asked softly, “after you check on the turkey will you come back and sit with us, please?”

Lindsey shrugged as she walked to the stove. Her heart was pounding and her vision was foggy. She went through the motions of checking on the dinner but was only thinking about an escape route. When she turned back around both Beth and her brother were waiting still for an answer.

“I guess, I would be the spawn of Satan,” Lindsey blurted out and walked back to the island in silence.

“Ouch, child of the evil one and I thought it was bad being adopted,” the priest flashed a broad grin.

Beth shook her head no, “Stop joking around.”

“Just trying to break the tension.”

“It’s okay, Beth. That was kind of funny,” Lindsey tried not to laugh at the inappropriate comment.

Beth frowned when she looked at Lindsey, “He only thinks it’s funny because he’s not adopted.”

Lindsey winced. She had no idea Beth’s childhood might be as painful as her own. On instinct, she got out of her chair and hugged Beth. Beth returned the hug. It was a closeness of heart neither had shared before. Beth held Lindsey tight.

“Beth, I never would’ve laughed, if I knew. I thought…I don’t know,” Lindsey tried to explain.

“It’s okay. Don’t be upset. He’s just teasing me like when we were kids. He doesn’t mean anything by saying it and you didn’t mean any harm by laughing,” Beth reassured the repentant teenager.

“It hurts still? Doesn’t it still hurt that they didn’t love you enough,” Lindsey whispered in Beth’s ear.

Beth’s hug increased for a brief moment before her reply, “It hurts me every day.”

“Are either of you gonna explain the Rev to me?” The monk asked.

“He’s very negative about Lindsey. Hurting her business in the town and such. When they met face to face he was a jerk. I won’t tolerate it, Mark! Lindsey is part of our family! I won’t have him speaking out against her,” Beth was very clear with her remarks.

“It doesn’t make sense. There’s got to be a misunderstanding. I mean, the Rev is a bit conservative but he’s got a good heart…,” the priest tried to explain.

“Right, he’s a real saint!” Lindsey huffed as she returned to her chair.

“Tell him, Lindsey,” Beth encouraged.

“Please, tell me,” the Friar spoke up.

“The Rev’s wife is my mother!” Lindsey shouted.

“The Whore?” Father Mark asked.

“Yes,” Lindsey supplied.

“Oh, fuck,” the friar mumbled.

A ding in the kitchen broke the instilling silence.

“Dinner’s done,” Beth announced.

home poetry fiction horror sci-fi backyard m.e. wrote