“I don’t understand…why are you calling me about this, Margene? She’s what…no-of course I care. Dammit, let me get dressed and I’ll be on over. You better make sure MacEibhir’s alright with me doing this…” Jack Anderson hung up his phone and shook his head. Of all the…he didn’t know who was more stubborn at times, Wilber Jansen or his daughter. It’ ( Read more... )

Her days start early on the ranch. Up at four-thirty, maybe quarter to five if she’s dragging her butt or Anrai’s being particularly friendly with his hellos and good morning, my loves. Today, Laine is standing in the kitchen, barefoot and bleary-eyed, staring down the bottle of prenatal vitamins she is supposed to take on a daily basis. ‘Take with ( Read more... )

[Filtered to Anrai and the rest of the MacEibhirs ( Read more... )

The view before her was awe-inspiring even at eighteen. Wide-open and half wild fields of green dotted and bordered with tall trees of varying evergreen and deciduous species. Mountains not too far off in the distance and their rocky foothills giving way to large boulders and craggy chucks of granite that littered the expanse of land completed the ( Read more... )

What, that I think the current election is full of jackass and idiots on both sides? How about we talk about my personal politics instead. You got the damned debates and CNN and Saturday Night Live to tell y’all what to think about the government ( Read more... )

I fell off a horse.

In front of Anrai.

Laine Anderson//Flint Creek//9

What’s the first thing you remember?I can’t rightfully make up my mind about that. When I think about meetin’ Anraí MacEibhir for the first time, two things come to mind ( Read more... )

"That's something I think is growing on me as I get older: happy endings." -- Alice MunroLaine was sitting at the kitchen table, binders full of sample announcements and invitations scattered around her, a notepad to one side and a pen in her hand. Frilly, delicate things, handmade paper, ribbons, bows, lace…flimsy, filmy wax-coated paper. Embossed ( Read more... )

What kind of scared are we talkin’ about here? There are lots of different types of fear a body experiences. Fear of change, fear of the unknown, failure, loss…I could name you a different person for each one of those, all of them people I love. I don’t know what that says about me, if anythin’. Maybe they scare me because I love them, I let them ( Read more... )

“I don’t know if that’s creepy and Oedipal or weirdly Freudian, Lainy.” Margene Cunningham was curled up on a deck chair on the wrap-around wooden porch that surrounded the main house at Flint Creek. A pitcher of margaritas was on the table, her glass half-empty. It wasn’t her first ( Read more... )