What You Mean "we" Paleface?
Loving Wives Story

What You Mean "we" Paleface?

by Qhml1 18 min read 4.7 (60,200 views)
in your wildest dreams story
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What You Mean We, Paleface 2

by Qhml1

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A month and a half later, my loving husband was back in the States, and I immediately pressed for a court date, getting on the docket in two weeks' time.

He surprised me by wanting to set up mediation, which I almost refused, but my lawyer talked me into it. "It might save a ton of time if you can come to terms. You'll be able to tell in the first few minutes how it's probably gonna go, and I'll make sure they know if you think they're wasting your time, you can leave immediately."

She'd checked on him and found him living with his now 20-year-old baby momma. This pleased me, as it would make the divorce easier. What a foolish thought.

The first mediation evening set the tone for the rest of the divorce. He tried to kiss me as soon as I walked in, and I had to fight him off. "What the hell is wrong with you? Stay on your side of the table, or this proceeding is over." In response, he started crying and asking to come home, talking about how much he missed me and his children.

"The children? There was no contact with them before you left, and you never emailed or video-called them the whole time you were gone. I found out you'd been back three weeks, and still, no call, no show. I think you're overstating how badly you've missed your kids. You're living with Bimbo Barbie, so you see your new baby every day. I heard it was a girl. Congratulations. Now could we get on with it?"

He cried and sniffled, and I think the mediator was moved. "Is there any way you..."

"Nope. No. Not. Nein. Non, and every other foreign expression of the negative you can think of. Not a snowball's chance, not if he was the last man on earth; it filtering through yet?"

It went downhill from there. My lawyer finally stood. "We're accomplishing nothing here, and as much as I love billable hours, it's time to end this farce. Counselor, if you can get your client to listen to reason and act in a socially acceptable manner, reschedule. If not, see you in court."

He chose court. We drew the worst possible Judge, a sixty-something woman who wrote romance novels as a hobby, and before we knew it, we were hit with counseling. After a hurried conference, my lawyer addressed the court. "How many sessions?"

"As many as it..." I did a dumb thing and broke in on the Judge. "Eight sessions, and I'm done. If you promise that once it's over and I still want the divorce, you grant it immediately. Understood?"

Her face was so red I feared for her health. "Young lady, you don't get to..."

"And another thing. He pays, and he doesn't get to pick. Appoint one approved by the court and set it up."

There was a hurried conference at the bench, with death stares directed at me, until they stood back and returned to the table. "Ten sessions. When it's done, it's done, unless both agree to continue. If not, and an accord isn't reached, I'll grant the divorce. You'll get the counselor's name and a schedule in a few days. It will be bad for you if one is missed. So ordered!" She slammed the gavel down so hard it broke.

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When it was over, Jim was waiting for me, immediately whisking Jan, my lawyer, and me off to a nice, intimate bistro with booths designed for privacy. "How did it go?"

Jan grinned. "Your little honey roared like a lion, taking the Judge head-on. I was wondering how long it would take to get her out of jail when the judge folded. It seems she's up for reelection, and her opponent has been looking into her record. Allie will still have to listen to ten hours of bullshit in counseling sessions, and then it's over."

I thought about the little honey crack after she'd left. Jim had to go out of state for a couple of weeks just after our first date, and Simone set me up with a couple of her friends. Neither of them triggered anything that remotely resembled a spark, but they were pleasant company. Jim had been back two weeks before I found out, and I called him. "Hey, stranger. I heard you were back in town. Wanna do something Saturday?"

"Sorry, Allie. I already have a date this weekend. Maybe sometime later. It was good to hear from you." And just like that, he was gone. I asked Simone about it, and she grinned.

"He's hooked up with a little native honey. Navajo, I think. He met her at a native celebration, looking for some silver and turquoise pieces. She's hot, and I ran into them at a bar a few weeks ago." She frowned. "I don't think it will last long. She likes to drink, and Jim doesn't. Sooner or later, there'll be a clash over lifestyles, and it'll be over. Besides, what happened to you and what his name, Pedro, Pancho, I don't remember."

I frowned, reliving the experience. "We dated four times. In retrospect, it was three times too many. He was a little too macho for me, and he and the boys had a mutually dislike relationship. He smarted off about me being his bitch when we ran into an old friend of mine, and he felt threatened. I found my way home and haven't spoken to him since."

"Ouch! Well, you never can tell." Then she giggled. "Maybe you can catch Jim on the rebound."

I laughed and put it out of my mind, but three weeks later, the Lincoln needed servicing, so I took it to his shop. He was on the floor and rushed right over. "Allie! It's good to see you! How have you been?"

I grinned. Sometimes, he had the enthusiasm of a twelve-year-old. "I'm fine. I just brought the car in for service."

"Come on upstairs, and we'll catch up." He didn't give me a chance to say no, not that I would have, practically dragging me up the stairs. I asked for water, and we sat.

"Opened any more franchises?"

His business advisor had talked him into franchising. An experiment that could have gone better. "No! I abandoned that plan pretty fast over service issues. My lawyer put performance clauses in, and I repurchased them all. I've got them and four more since we talked last. How about you? Still married?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

"Really? How long has it been?"

"My one-year anniversary is coming up. The way it's going, I could end up a widow before a divorcee.

I finally decided not to worry about it and moved on. I even got a new career. I now work for Simone at one of her agencies. I went to school and got my real estate license, and it works well for me because I can schedule appointments around my kids. I'm good at it.

"Congratulations."

I bit the bullet and asked, "How has life been treating you outside the business arena? I heard you were dating an Indian Princess. How's that going?"

He laughed. "That's been over for a while now. She had a problem with fire water. And fidelity. It came apart when I caught her at a bar with another guy and asked if he knew he was drinking with an Indian Princess. He asked her what nation she was in, and I jumped in."

He stopped for a minute, savoring the memory. "I told him she was Navajo. Or maybe Arapaho, I couldn't remember, but she was some hoe. "

I giggled. "Did she take it well?"

"Not really. I think she would have scalped me if she'd have been physically able. It was the last time I saw her." He paused. "Open to dating a grease monkey again?"

This was going very well. "I'll think about it, but mister, the first time you get grease on my sheets, it better be the right kind! Call me!" His mouth was still hanging open as I walked off. So, we dated. Often. He got to know my boys. It was a gradual process, but they learned to trust each other. I smiled and waved when they told me he was taking them to ride horses and no girls were allowed. When the door shut, I collapsed into tears, happy they had a father figure in their life.

They came back bearing a gift. He had gotten them cowboy hats, and they conspired to find one for me, a narrow-brimmed, flat-crowned Stetson in gleaming white. They fussed over me, positioning the hat at just the right angle. Jim stood behind me as I looked in the mirror, grinning. "Tell her, boys!"

"We're going to a dude ranch! We're going if you say we can, and you have to go with us! It'll be great! Please, Mom?"

"You guys go get cleaned up while I talk to Mr. Cowboy here." He looked crestfallen, and I tried to give him the evil eye, but it didn't last. "Tell me about it."

"It's five days at a real ranch. They'll even help herd cattle. The ranch has barbeques every night, and on Friday, they have a Western Swing Band for the adults. It also has an Olympic-sized pool if you'd rather sun yourself than eat dust. I'd like it if you'd say yes."

"You think I would have wanted to face the mutiny if I had told them no? What week, where is it, and most importantly, does it have a suite where we have a separate bedroom away from the boys? Because if I go, I expect you to keep me suitably entertained at night. Understand? Every night."

It took him two minutes to stutter out a reply, and I felt pity, so I kissed him. Hard, hard enough to distract him. If I'd learned anything from my soon-to-be ex, it was not to let them have too much time alone. Bad things could happen. Of course, comparing Jim to Dr. Dick was like comparing a standing rib roast to a McDonalds quarter pounder. Sure, they would both fill you up, but the burger would leave you unsatisfied. I dragged him over to the computer, called the boys in, and we looked over the website. I was all in when I discovered it came with a full-service spa for those less adventurous.

I practiced wearing my hat until it broke how I liked it. I even wore it to a few showings, explaining that my boyfriend was trying to turn me into a Westerner. One asked me if it was working. "The idea is creeping up on me."

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We hadn't made love; he was an old-style Western Gentleman with his moral code, and he hated that I was still technically attached to somebody else. I teased him gently, telling him that my feelings for my ex were long gone and that, as far as I was concerned, I was a free agent. "It's been almost a year, and I really, really want it to end. I'd never return to him, and world peace would have to be at stake for me to consider it. As far as it goes, I consider myself an unbranded maverick waiting for the right bull. I'm looking at you here, buddy. What do you have to say?"

He thought about it for a minute before answering. "Mooooo..."

Jim went with me to a few hearings in open court and developed a disgust for the good doctor, especially when he saw his baby mama. "She's a child herself! What kind of predatory asshole would go after someone almost half his age with no experience in the real world. He's a jerk, thinking with other parts of his anatomy besides his brain. How did they even meet?"

"They met when he gave her mother a boob job. He saw how pretty and how unworldly she was and zoomed in. I think he may have been her first. It's a sad world, honey."

"I hope she was worth his family. I can understand walking away from a mate, but his children? His face probably pops up when you Google fool." I giggled, kissed him, and returned to court while he returned to work. I always made sure he didn't sit anywhere near me, and if anyone noted his presence, they probably thought he was in the same boat, waiting for his marriage to die. It brought up bad memories for him, but he made it all about supporting me.

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I was on pins and needles leading up to the trip to the dude ranch. The boys counted the seconds, and I had to scold them a little to get them back off Jim. They were either on the phone with him or we were at his place. I apologized, and he looked pensive. "I never noticed this house's emptiness until you and the boys entered my life. They'd be here a lot if it were up to me."

"If they were over here any more than they are now, we'd be living with you."

He kissed me while the twins snickered. "That's probably the best idea I've heard...ever. You think about it, all right?"

I confided my fears to Simone and felt insulted slightly when she laughed. "Honey, I'll guarantee there won't be any sexual compatibility issues. I dated him, remember? He's pretty damn good for a man; I'd probably rank him the third-best man I've ever slept with.

"Just third?"

"The other two were hung like horses, and when I go after a guy, I'm a bit of a sized queen. Jim has nothing to be ashamed of, and he has the stamina of a robot. Oops! TMI, honey, but you'll be a pleased girl."

So, after much internal debate, we moved in with him. He sealed the deal at the dude ranch. We were both strung tight with anticipation, and there was a little fumbling at first. It had been over a year for me and seven months for Jim, and we tried to catch up in one night. The boys had to drag us out of bed the following day, and we moved mighty slow for someone in their thirties. I was 34, and Jim was 36, and he told me he didn't know if he could handle a child bride. Then he realized he said 'bride' and started stuttering, so I shut him up with a kiss.

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On the third day, Jim stood with the wrangler while he assessed the boys as they rode in anticipation of the cattle drive. The cattle drive was a little grandiose because they were only moving a hundred cows twenty-five miles, with an overnight camp halfway through.

I had just walked up when I heard the wrangler. "You got a couple of good boys there, Jim. They're smart, polite, and catch on quickly. You would not believe the number of spoiled crybabies we get."

"As much as I'd like to take credit, it's all due to their mother."

"Mebbe, but I see the way they listen to you. Their mother is a fine-lookin' woman, and you're one of the best families I've seen. You got something more precious than gold here, son; I hope it lasts a lifetime."

He melted my heart as if I hadn't been in love before. "They're a gift from God, Bob. I wake up every morning thinking I'm the luckiest man alive. Their mother is an absolute treasure, and you can bet every horse you've ever owned or trained there isn't enough explosives invented yet that would ever keep us apart. I want to be able to hold her on our thirtieth anniversary, surrounded by grandchildren, looking for thirty more. Anniversaries, not grandchildren."

Jim went about eight shades of red when he realized I was behind him, while Bob grinned. "Like I said, lucky feller. Ma'am." He tipped his hat and walked off whistling.

"Honey, I..."

The easiest way was my go-to of kissing him, so I did. "I heard every word. Now, I know some things need to be said, and a question and answer needs to be stated. I also know that you won't ask until I'm free and clear, and I'm telling you right now, that question better the first thing out of your mouth before the ink dries on the decree. Understand?"

He did, by the way; he swept me off my feet, literally dangling a foot off the ground until I finally pushed on him. The push was a long time coming, and when we broke, the boys sat their horses next to the fence, grinning. "Not a word," I told them as I flounced off.

The following day I was up before daylight, kissing all my men before they mounted up. The guests, especially the youngsters, wouldn't handle the cattle, but they would ride every inch of the trip beside an experienced rider who would let them do minor things. Jim had a high-resolution camera, and the photos and video lit up my phone from daylight to dark. When they bedded down that evening Jim slipped into the darkness for some adult time. I'd been to the spa, spending the day being pampered while they ate the dust of the trail, and just before we said goodnight, I sent him a photo. "A Brazilian wax. Never do that again, honey, and I'll need a lot of lotion. Do you think you can help me? Good night, babe. I love you."

I drove out to pick them up the next afternoon. They were dirty, Jim was unshaven for the first time I'd ever seen, and they all looked tired, but their smiles made light of it all. Max and Mitch had a lot of stories when they returned to school in the fall. I sent them to the shower as soon as they got back, dragging Jim inside and making sure he was squeaky clean. It took a while, and the boys were sitting there looking all smug when we came out. Jim had discussed his plans regarding all of us, answering as many questions as he could.

"I know I'm not your father, but if things go right, we will be together until you go to college in nine years. Think we can get along?"

Mitch tended to be the spokesman for the pair, and he was grinning. "We know you're not our biological father, but he wasn't around that much when he was still with us. We see you every day, and we're good with that. When you marry Mom, do we get to call you Dad?"

Jim got so choked up he couldn't talk for a second, and they got alarmed. "It would be one of the highest honors I could ever get." He made them shake hands as adults and then returned their hugs as children.

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The next month, Simone called me. "I've got a showing at six, but I'm tied up in the condo contracts and can't make it. I know you hate not being on time for dinner with your family, but it shouldn't take long. The guy's supposed to be loaded; this is our most high-end listing. Help me out here, honey."

I didn't like it at all, enjoying the unwinding time where we made dinner as a family and decompressed from the day, but she was my boss, and more importantly, she was my friend, so I said I'd do it.

Driving up the long, winding driveway, I was impressed. It was a two-story with columns across the front, and single-story wings built to give it a U shape. Simone said it was Moorish, brought over from when the Spanish first settled the area, to mimic a courtyard. Over 4,000 feet, with six bedrooms. It had a new, state-of-the-art kitchen, three fireplaces in the master bedroom, and open beams on the ground floor. It had been built by a young investor who believed in Bitcoins a bit too much, and when the pyramid scheme he invested in collapsed, he lost it all.

It sat on seven hundred and fifty acres, part of the original ranch that had been broken up. Simone and an unnamed investor (Jim, I learned much later) bought the properties for pennies on the dollar and were just starting to develop them. Getting there early, I unlocked the massive double-door entrance and walked through it to get a feel for it. I passed through the great room, and noticed a painting on the wall. It seemed so familiar, so I went back and looked again. That was Jim's Kahlo! What was that doing there? Then I heard a noise and turned around to see Simone, Sylvia, and, just behind them, Jim and our children. Yes, I'd mentally dubbed them ours and no one else's.

Before I could speak, the kids rushed me. "Do you like it? It's so cool, Mom! You gotta see the swimming pool! And the barns! Can we get horses? Dad said it would be up to you, so please?"

"Wha..." Well, that was articulate enough. By them, Jim was beside me. "The boys love it, honey, but I bought it for you. Do you like it? It'll be our first and hopefully last house together."

"Ours? We..." Then, befitting the enormity of the situation, I fainted dead away, the first time in my life I had ever done so.

When I revived, I kissed Jim so hard he had bruised lips. He kept stuff like this up, and he was gonna need dentures. Mitch had one hand, Max the other, dragging me all over the house and the backyard while Jim, Simone, and Sylvia followed behind, not bothering to hide their grins. Later, after things had calmed down and we were back home, the questions started.

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