Steamy Stories

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 3

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Michigan Weather and Women: Part 3
How did we ever get here?

Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the

Podcast at Connected.



"When I was fourteen, Mr. Johnson introduced me to a

friend of his, Henry White, who was a master plumber. Henry was a
high-functioning alcoholic whose temper had driven away all his old apprentices
and journeymen. Luckily, I was always big for my age, and Mr. Johnson assured
Henry that I was seventeen, turning eighteen in the next few months, so he took
me on with the promise to make me an apprentice as soon as I was old enough. By
the time that Henry learned my actual age, he had come to rely on me so much
that he kept me on."

"But what about school? Don't you need a high school

diploma to become an apprentice?"

"One good thing about growing up in a small town is

that most people know the score. I made it to school when I could, and Henry
and I worked a lot on the weekends, while Alison watched the rest of my
siblings. Most of my teachers let me through with C's and D's, even though I
must have missed half of my classes. Everyone knew that I was working with
Henry and that I would need my high school diploma to become an apprentice, so
they just kind of let me slip through.

"I had well over 6,000 hours of experience plumbing

before I even turned 18 and could formally become an apprentice. By that point,
Henry was a significantly less functional alcoholic, and I was doing everything
for his business; all the plumbing and all of the invoicing. He just signed off
on the work. If anyone had ever looked into it, he could have gotten into real
trouble, but we did smaller jobs for folks who didn't have a lot of money, so
no one ever noticed or cared.

"Just about the last thing that Henry did before he

passed was to swear out my application to become a master plumber. Then one day
I showed up for work, and he had died in his sleep. He didn't own much of
anything, other than his tools, and he didn't have any family that I knew of,
so I just kept on working."

After a few minutes spent lying together in silence, I

thought that Erin might have drifted off, but she had one more question for me
before she did.

"When did your mom leave?"

I had never told anyone that part of my story; even my

brother and sisters thought that Mom had just left one day, leaving me in
charge. The reality was so much worse.

"By the time Lane started school, Mom had already left

us. Not physically, but in all the other ways that matter. She didn't work, and
she regularly brought her 'boyfriends' back to our house to trade sex for
drugs. Any support she got from social services went straight into her arm or
up her nose. I was working long hours by then, to pay the rent and put food on
the table, so sometimes that meant that Mary or my brother would be at home
with Mom when I wasn't there. I knew it was playing with fire, but there was
nothing I could do about it other than pray.

"Normally, when I got home, I would blow my horn as I

pulled into our drive and Lane would come running out to hug me and tell me
about his day. So, I knew something was wrong when I came home late one
evening, turned off my truck, and he still hadn't come out. I went inside, and
Mom was sitting stoned in the living room watching TV. I asked where Lane was,
and she just waved toward the back of the house. Alison and Sharon were out, so
Mary and Lane were home with her by themselves. I found him in the room that we
shared, cowering in the corner, with little Mary guarding the door. She was
only eight at the time.

"After a few minutes, I got Lane to tell me what was

wrong, and he showed me his arm. Earlier, he had been in the kitchen and had
bumped into Mom while she was cooking something on the stove. In a burst of
rage, or maybe just evil, she grabbed his arm and held it against the burner.
You can still see the scar on his arm today.

"That was the end of it. I asked Mary to stay with Lane

in our room, I packed Mom's things into the one suitcase we owned, and I drove
her to the bus station. I bought her a ticket to Grand Rapids, gave her all the
cash in my wallet, and waited with her until she boarded. I told her I would
call the police if she ever came back.

"Before she left, she spat on me and told me she wished

I had never been born."

I marveled at how flat my voice sounded, but to my surprise,

my cheeks felt wet. I thought I had lost the ability to cry long ago.

"Can you imagine that, abandoning your own mother? I'll

probably burn in hell, but it was the only way I could think of to keep my
brother and sisters safe. I haven't seen her since, although she used to call a
couple of times a year asking for money. I didn't feel too bad about hanging up
on her when she did, though, since she was still collecting family benefits for
us all. Lane barely remembers her, which is likely a blessing, so I made up the
story about Mom going away for the weekend and never coming back.

"Since then, I have done what was needed for us to

survive. When Alison finished school, she wanted to stay home to help look
after the others, but I convinced her to go to college. I said that Mom had put
aside some money for her tuition, but of course, that was a lie. I have been
making the payments for her, but I wanted her to have the chance to just be
young, for once. To get away from all of this, at least for a while."

"But what about you, Davis?"

"I don't matter."

"Well, you matter to me."

While I was speaking, Erin had wrapped both arms around me

and was now holding me tight against her body. When I finished, my body was
wracked by waves of uncontrollable grief, but she held me through it all.
Eventually, as I started to calm down, she gave me gentle kisses on the nape of
my neck and whispered to me in a soft voice.

I don't remember what she said, but I fell into a deep and

dreamless sleep.

The power came back on early the next morning, and Erin and

I were the first people to wake up. She lay beside me with a small smile on her
face.

"You've had some hard times, Davis Crawford, but you

have come out the other side. You're pretty amazing."

I felt a sudden burst of both elation and fear as I returned

her smile.

"Thanks for listening and not judging me. I've never

told anyone some of the things I shared with you."

"It was my pleasure. Now let's get up and make some

coffee."

Looking out the window, the snowdrifts were over two feet

high in places, but I knew they weren't going to get any lighter as the sun
came out and they started to melt.

"I am going to get started on the shoveling if you want

to start on breakfast."

Erin gave me a bemused look.

"Or maybe, I am fully capable of shoveling snow, and we

can get it done twice as fast by working together."

A few minutes after we started, Lane came out to help. At

one point, when Erin was on the other side of the yard, he started to speak.

"I heard some of what you said to Erin last night. I

never knew what Mom did to you, what you did to protect us. Thank you."

"Ah, Bud. I never wanted you to worry. Mom wasn't well

for a long time, and she made some terrible choices. But she's gone now, and
you will always be safe with me."

By the time we finished, we had worked ourselves into a

lather, so I suggested to Wilma that she get a snow plowing service for the
winter. She gave me a look that implied that somewhere there was a village
searching for its idiot; and that idiot was me.

"Oh, I have a service, but they take so long to come

that they are useless if they bother to show up at all."

Erin jumped into the conversation, looking pissed off.

"It's part of my family and the McDougal's ongoing

campaign to get Gran to move. I have told them how dangerous the game they are
playing is, but they just don't seem to care."

I thought for a minute, before walking a little ways away

and making a call. When I returned, I had some good news for Wilma.

"Go ahead and cancel your current service. If they

aren't going to do the work, they shouldn't have a problem with not getting
paid. I called an old friend of mine from school who runs a snow removal company
out of Harbor Springs, who owes me a favor or nine. From now on, you will be at
the top of his list."

Erin and I texted just about every day between Thanksgiving

and Christmas, and we talked most nights when she wasn't working. We were both
insanely busy; Erin was providing pediatric coverage for two hospitals that
were three hours apart, and I was working as much overtime as possible, to save
up for Christmas. Some weeks, the only time we had to meet in person was Sunday
afternoons at Wilma's.

Mary, in turn, was flourishing under Wilma's guidance. It

seemed like she was channeling her emotions into her art, and I began to see
the kind and thoughtful sister reemerge that I thought I had lost forever. She
wouldn't show me the painting she was working on, but Wilma said she was making
good progress, and that was all I needed to know.

As it got towards mid-December, our thoughts turned to

Christmas. Since Wilma's family was still boycotting the holidays, we decided
to have a joint celebration like at Thanksgiving. Erin was going to be working
at the hospital in Petoskey on Christmas Day, but we promised to keep Wilma
company and to bring her a Christmas meal that she could eat on her break. In
typical fashion, she tried to convince us that she would be fine with cafeteria
food, but we would hear nothing of it.

When we got to Wilma's house for lunch on Christmas Day, she

had stockings laid out by the fireplace with a present for each of us. Santa
must have had a very healthy budget, because he brought Lane a new fishing rod,
Mary a set of expensive paints and charcoals, Sharon a contribution to her
college fund, and Alison a specialized nurse's bag with a personalized
stethoscope.

Rather than a present, my stocking came with a small

envelope that contained a pair of tickets to the traveling production of
"Moulin Rouge" that was playing in Grand Rapids in March. Although I
was happy to get a present of any kind, Wilma must have seen my look of
confusion at the choice.

"I was talking to Santa, and he mentioned that Erin

loves musicals. Phillip used to take her to them when she was younger. He would
put on his best suit, and she would get all dolled up in a dress with some of
my jewelry, and they would go out for a fancy dinner before the show and have a
grand old time."

I looked at her in amusement, before replying.

"Well, it seems that Santa is about as subtle as a

sledgehammer. But I will have to say thanks, next time I bump into him."

Our present to Wilma came in three parts. First, we included

her in our Christmas cookie exchange, and Mary even gave her a double portion
of the chocolate chip cookies she had baked. Second, the five of us committed
to helping her catch up on the yard work and house repairs that had fallen by
the wayside since Phillip passed. And finally, we pledged to do everything in
our power to make sure that she could stay in her house for as long as she was
able.

Wilma hugged and thanked each of us with tears in her eyes,

then looked over at Mary.

"Why don't you get your present for your brother."

Mary went to the studio at the back of the house and brought

back what looked like a small painting, wrapped in Christmas paper.

"I wanted to make you something to say 'thank you' for

everything you have done for us. And for not giving up on me."

When I unwrapped the painting, I was stunned. It was very

different from Phillip or Wilma's more realistic works and had vibrant streaks
of paint that burst across the canvas, meeting, seemingly at random, in explosions
of color. The entire piece was chaotic, except for a single corner that was
shielded from the turmoil by a solid arc of paint that was the exact color of
my eyes.

After lunch, Mary and Sharon kept Wilma company while

Alison, Lane, and I went to see Erin at the hospital. Things were pretty quiet,
so she had time to sit and eat her dinner with us. While she ate, I showed her
pictures from earlier in the day. She laughed at one, in particular, of Wilma
with her arm around Mary while they were wearing festive paper hats from their
Christmas crackers.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Wilma, Davis.

She would never admit it, but the holidays would have been very lonely for her
this year without you. It means the world to me that you could be there for her."

We chatted a bit longer before I pulled out my present for

Erin. It was a small flat package which she opened slowly. Inside was a framed
drawing of Wilma's house, as seen from the docks, as she looked out the picture
window in her living room.

"This is amazing, who made it?"

"I used to draw quite a bit in school. Since Mary has

been working with your Gran, I thought I might give it another try, and I
particularly liked how this one turned out."

"It's beautiful, Davis. Thank you."

She started to blush as she glanced over at Lane, before she

slid a card over to me, and whispered, "Maybe you should wait to open this
until later when you're alone."

Inside the card was Erin's two-part gift to me. First, an

invitation to visit her in Grand Rapids, and second, a night for the two of us
in a suite at a very nice hotel.

New Year's Eve was even quieter than usual at our house.

Erin was working in Grand Rapids and was on call that evening. I spoke with her
earlier in the day, however, and wished her a Happy New Year, and we sent each
other kissing emojis at midnight. The rest of us spent the night playing board
games. The only real excitement came a few days earlier when Mary asked if she
could invite a friend to join us.

"And is this friend a boy, by chance?"

As far as I knew, Mary had never had a boyfriend, so this

was a new development. Mary didn't have to answer, since her blush did the
talking for her.

"Do we know this boy?"

"It's; It's James McDougal. But he's not like his

brothers. He's a good guy."

I had my reservations about all of the McDougals, but I was

willing to give him a chance. I had only met James that one time at his
parent's house when I had gone to get Mary, and he seemed polite enough. But
since he was a McDougal, he was starting with two strikes and was in danger of
going down swinging.

To give Mary credit, James passed the first boyfriend test

before he even made it into the house. When he drove into the yard, Munchkin
was the first to greet him. He wasn't growling or barking like he sometimes did,
or showing his teeth, but he was plenty intimidating. James waited patiently
for him to approach before carefully scratching behind his ears. After Mary
came out to greet James, Munchkin decided he was alright and fell in behind
them as they came inside. Just after midnight, as he was getting ready to
leave, James took me aside.

"I just wanted to say, sir, that I am sorry for what

happened with Mary a few months back. I should never have brought her over to
my house without your permission, and I should have brought her right back home
once I saw that my brothers were home. I promise you, that despite my bad
judgment, I would have made sure that nothing happened to her, and I won't ever
make that mistake again."

I had to admit that James was growing on me.

Chapter 5.

It wasn't long before Mary introduced James to Wilma. I had

to work on a Sunday in early January, so he offered to drive her to Wilma's in
my place. I could tell he was nervous, and he was wearing a nice, collared
shirt with some clean jeans, under his winter jacket. By the time he brought
Mary home, his shirt was soaked in sweat, and he looked a little like a young
man returning from war. Later that week, I asked Wilma what she thought of him.

"He seems like a nice, polite boy and he sure is

besotted with our Mary. While Mary and I worked on her latest painting, he did
some chores for me, including chopping and stacking the entire half cord of
wood you dropped off last week. But he didn't complain, and he was still
smiling at Mary when he was done, so I think he will do."

Wilma's relationship with the rest of the McDougals,

however, remained tense, and they made it clear to me that continuing to help
her would come at a steep cost. I ran into Calum one evening at the grocery
store and he made their position crystal clear.

"We've got a big job coming up in Indian River that you

might be interested in. Starts in a week, and it would keep you busy for the
better part of the next year, solid. The job is yours if you want it."

"What's this job going to cost me?"

"It's yours, no strings attached. But you wouldn't have

time to help old lady Anderson anymore. You know, and I know, that it's time
for her to move on from that land. It's what her family wants and it's what's
best for her. I am sure that doctor down in Petoskey would understand, I figure
she must be tired of looking after that grandmother of hers all the time
anyway. Think how much more time the two of you would have together if you were
working a regular nine-to-five kind of job.

"On the other hand, if you don't work with us on this

project, my family is going to take it pretty hard. Hard enough that we might
reach out to our friends and neighbors to let them know that you are not a team
player and that they may not want to do business with you."

There it was. They were threatening to ruin me if I didn't

do what they wanted. I knew they couldn't cut off all of my business since
there were too many people in the lower peninsula who had been screwed over by them
in the past. But they could sure make things tough for me. I am really bad at
taking orders, however, particularly from dickheads like Calum McDougal.

Calum had a cynical smile as he walked away. He didn't value

decency or loyalty, so I was sure he thought he had won me over. All he had
done was harden my resolve. I felt honor-bound to reach out to my friend who
was clearing Wilma's driveway, though, to let him know that he might get some
heat from the McDougals. He was surprisingly poetic in his response.

"Fuck those arrogant worm-drowners and the horses they

rode in on."

Valentine's Day was never a big deal for me. Over the years,

I hadn't had time to date, and I wouldn't have had any money to do anything
special if I did, so the Hallmark holiday passed me by without too much fuss or
bother. I had hoped things might be different since I was with Erin, but she
was on call at the hospital in Petoskey, and I was pushing hard on a large
multi-unit build that was on a tight schedule, so I was working six or even
seven days a week until it was done. My work hadn't completely dried up since
my run-in with Calum, but it had certainly taken a hit, so I was not in a
position to turn down jobs, no matter how inconvenient.

My one consolation was I knew I would see Erin in a couple

of weeks when I visited her in Grand Rapids for the sh

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