Standing His Ground: Greer (Porter Brothers Trilogy 2)

“He was drunk on moonshine, and Tate thought he had a few joints, too. He beat them bloody that day and locked them in the barn, saying they could sleep out there that night. It was the dead of winter.

“When Greer woke up, Tate wasn’t moving. He said he was so cold he wanted to go to sleep, but the spirits surrounded him and gave him a vision.” Rachel raked her fingers through her hair. “They told him he couldn’t go to sleep and gifted him a sign to show he would make it out of the barn. When he tried to show Tate his sign, he couldn’t wake him.” Rachel gave a shuddering breath. “Greer said he told his spirits that, unless they healed Tate, there was no sense in showing him the sign, because he wasn’t leaving the barn without Tate.”

“He wasn’t letting Tate go without him.” Her husband had saved Tate the same way he had saved her—willing to sacrifice himself at the cost of his own soul. “Did your father let them out that night?” Holly wished she had brought the whole bottle of wine outside instead of just the glass.

“Pa didn’t let them out until morning and made them go to school.”

“Why didn’t your mother let them out?” Holly asked, feeling sickened.

“Pa had locked them in. Tate said Ma sat out there all night, trying to pry a board loose so she could get inside. When that didn’t work, she started digging, but the ground was frozen …” Rachel trailed off as she thought about how her mother fought so hard to reach her children and failed.

“Your father is lucky he’s dead! I know he was your father, Rachel, and I’m sorry, but he was terrible.”

“I know. Ma tried to leave him, but he brought her back, holding us kids over her. After that, it got better, though. He never beat them as badly after that. My ma wasn’t the same after that.

“All of us warned them not go out to the lake that day. Dustin had been having nightmares of drowning, and Tate had heard the death bells twice. I think she had enough of Pa and didn’t care that there were storm warnings out.”

“How am I supposed to look at that barn knowing what happened in there? How hurt and terrified they must have been?”

“I hate it, too. It was before I was born, but I have my own memories of Pa coming out of there, drunk, and having to go in there, waiting to take a whipping.”

“Dustin, too?”

“Yes, I had it easier, because I was a girl, but Dustin, Greer, and Tate took their beatings in there.”

“Really?” she snarled.

“Uh … yes. Are you okay?” Rachel asked worriedly.

“No, Rachel, I’m not.” Holly stood up, setting her glass down on the porch. She stormed toward the barn with Rachel only steps behind her.

Throwing the barn door open, she looked around for something she could use.

“What are you doing? Maybe we should go inside the house.”

“You go ahead,” Holly told her absentmindedly.

Seeing Greer’s toolbox, she opened the lid, taking a hammer out of it, then rushed back to the front of the barn.

“Holly, what are thinking about doing?”

She didn’t waste her breath, too infuriated to care if she made Rachel angry.

She tried prying one of the boards off with the hammer. The more she tried, the more furious she became. The stubborn thing didn’t want to budge, just like Greer.

Frustrated that she couldn’t remove the board she had tried to break off, she didn’t notice Rachel go inside the barn and come back. She was giving the obstinate board a hard whack when Rachel tapped her on the shoulder.

“Try this.” She held the axe out for her to take.

“Thanks.” Holly started to swing it then gave Rachel a warning, “Move.”

Rachel moved to her side so she wouldn’t be struck when she lifted the axe over her shoulder, bringing it down with all her strength.

Holly gave a victorious laugh when the axe sank in deep. “This works just fine.” Another swing, and she was able to tear the stubborn board from the barn wall. Choosing another board, she swung the axe again. “Take that, you son of a bitch!”

Rachel moved farther away. “Who are you cursing?”

“Your father!” Holly yelled, hitting the board again. “Your asshole … drunken … father!” The axe punctuated her anger as she tore another board from the wall.

“Oh.”

“Yes, fucking oh!” Holly screamed, taking all her fury out on the helpless anger she felt toward who she couldn’t have arrested for being a terrible father.

“You bastard!”

“Who you cursing now?”

“Whoever called your father to complain about his moonshine …” She gave a jab with the axe at that thought, thinking about Tate and Greer afraid to come home, knowing what had been waiting for them.