Complicated

by Kristen Ashley

“That’s it,” Joyce stated. “She strolls in here and does any of that, it’s gonna be me goin’ to your momma’s house and dragging her out to take her to one of Pastor Keller’s revivals. He’ll dip her in the river and hold her down until she sees Jesus. And if she doesn’t, he’ll hold her down until she sees Jesus.”

He stopped close to her side, dug his fingers in her hair and held her in position as he bent and took her mouth in a morning kiss that shared far more gratitude than any toothbrush was worth. When he broke the kiss and lifted slightly away, he watched her slowly open her eyes and breathe, “Today, I’m totally buying you dental floss.”

She cut a glare to her brother. “I’m just sayin’, in the unlikely event I get one, I hope I get through it lookin’ pretty.” “In the unlikely event you get one, you’ll have other things on your mind like hopin’ your dad and brother don’t get jail time for

handing the man who did it his ass.” Oh boy. Mamie looked to me. Corinne looked to me. “I’m quite certain your father will not hand the man who did this to me his ass seein’ as he’s the sheriff and all,” I assured. “I wouldn’t bet on it,” Shaw muttered. “Shaw!” Corinne cried. “Dad can’t go to jail!” “Daddy’s going to jail?” Mamie asked, confused.

“Maybe you two can make a mud pit and sell tickets for the football boosters while wrestling this out after Greta’s nose sets. But now, I need to get her to the hospital so we can make sure her nose will set properly.” “That’s disturbingly sexist, Sheriff Drake,” Lou shot at him. “And it would totally buy us a big screen, Lou, and don’t argue, you know it would.” “It would. I’d buy tickets to that,” the woman at the dryer put in. “And I’d absolutely take you,” Greta announced.

Lou’s eyes grew huge. “You would not.” “It would be embarrassing,” Greta taunted. Hix fought chuckling as he started pulling her to do the door. “Right! You’re on!” Lou shouted as they moved. Hix stopped chuckling. “Don’t think I won’t do it,” Greta retorted. That was when Hix frowned. “As soon as that bandage is off, the gloves are off,” Lou returned. He stopped at the door and turned back. “You’re gonna both get over it and not in a mud pit. I was jokin’, Lou. Greta’s getting nowhere near a mud pit with an audience or without one, but definitely not with one.” Greta jumped right on that. “That’s only because Hix doesn’t want me to embarrass you.”

“What’s that?” he asked. “Sleepytime,” she answered. “Say again,” he ordered. She took her eyes from her street and repeated, “Sleepytime. Sleepytime tea. Chamomile. Spearmint. And—” He cut her off. “Babe.” “What?” “Don’t waste your breath. The concept of tea does not exist for a man who owns a Bronco.”

Still tapping her pad with each “check,” she went on like she hadn’t heard him, which she probably hadn’t. “Crackers. Check. Chips. Check.” Back across the room to the fridge she opened. “Deli meat. Check. Blocks of cheese for crackers. Check. Cheese slices for sandwiches. Check. Grated cheese. Check. Makings for cheese ball. Check. Philadelphia cheese. Check. Three types of bread—” Christ. There was more cheese in his house than all of Wisconsin.

Then they sat in a church and watched Faith Calloway standing with her kids, her hair perfect, her dress pretty, the smile on her face luminous, as she married a man named Owen.