Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
“No, I don’t think so, sweetheart.”
When I had gotten the letter from my mother telling me that she was worried we were about to lose the farm, I had resigned from my job as a civil engineer and headed back to Montana.
It took me a couple of weeks to figure out my brother didn’t have a gambling problem and was merely desperate. It took me four months before I realized my father needed serious help. He hid the alcohol addiction fairly well, until he started to slip up more and more. I planned an intervention a month ago and insisted he enter a rehab facility to help him fight his addiction. He needed counseling, as well, to deal with the guilt he was carrying—not about the farm and the financial situation we’d found ourselves in, but the guilt over cheating on my mother.
Of course, my mother didn’t find out about the cheating until Dad entered the alcohol addiction center and he told her. She’d wept for days after, and I had never hated my father like I did all those nights hearing my mother cry.
“I don’t regret for a moment doing it, Mom. It was the right thing to do, for him and for you.”
She nodded. “I know, but it still doesn’t make it easier to swallow knowing it was you who saved the farm,” she whispered softly.
According to my father, his cheating wasn’t anything planned. One business trip, one beautiful woman who had a thing for older men. Daddy was handsome, just like my brother—an older version of Michael. Brown hair and coffee-colored eyes. Even with him being fifty-two, he still had a fit body. All the farm work would do that for you.
Women flocked to my brother, so it wasn’t hard to imagine women still being attracted to my father. My mother had always teased him and called him a silver fox.
Unfortunately, the temptation of a young thirty-two-year-old was something my father apparently couldn’t pass up. He had been in Dallas, Texas, at a farmers’ association conference for a week. He apparently met her on the third night and spent the next three days fucking her brains out in his hotel room.
When he came back home, my mother said she knew right away something was off. At first he was overly loving toward her. They had always had an amazing relationship, but my mother said he couldn’t seem to leave her side after that trip. Telling her how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, how he didn’t deserve her. Then, he did a complete turnaround and started to push her away and began drinking. He would get so drunk he was unable to work the farm.
That meant Michael had to pick up the slack, and he didn’t have any idea how to do the books. Things didn’t get paid, they fell behind, and soon Michael was getting notices of unpaid bills. Threats to take away part or all of the farm caused him to panic, and he turned to the tables in Vegas in an attempt to win some money. He said he felt like he was out of options. He couldn’t figure out another way to get money without taking out more loans.
I blew out a breath and looked into my mother’s eyes. “What’s going to happen when Daddy comes home?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure, Merit. I don’t know if I can forgive him.”
Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I held them back. The idea of my parents divorcing was not something I wanted to think about. I couldn’t blame my mother, though. If I were in her shoes, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to forgive him, either.
“How are your therapy sessions going?” I asked.
She smiled. “Good. They’re going good.”
There was the sound of a truck outside and I glanced back out the window.
Michael.
“Excuse me, Mom, your son is home, and I’m going to rip his balls off and shove them down his throat.”
“Merit Grace Eden!” my mother called out after me.
I ignored her and made my way out of the house and over to where my brother’s truck was parked. “I’m taking you off of the bank accounts.”
Michael froze and turned to face me. “Excuse me?”
“The bank accounts. I’m taking your name off. You’re not going to start gambling away the farm money or my money anymore!”
Anger rose in his eyes. “Your money? What the fuck are you even talking about, Merit?”
I planned on being calm when I spoke to my brother. But an intense anger was building in the middle of my chest, and I had no idea why. After the last few months, I was starting to think maybe I was the one who needed to go to therapy. The anger I felt was becoming unbearable.
“I’m talking about you withdrawing money again! I figured you were on your way to Vegas with the large amount you took out. I’m done, Michael. I put every last dime I had in my savings—along with the max withdrawal from my retirement—to pay off that loan Dad took out. I will not sit by and let you pull money out of the account to gamble it away.”