Free Till the Cows Come Home by Judy Clemens Page B

couldn’t move, they’re so big and kind of fat looking. But when you get a close-up look at Jermaine you see that underneath the fatty exterior is a mass of pure, hard muscle. Making Jermaine all the more amazing is the rich, black skin that lies tight and shiny over all his body, including his shaved head.
    Ma didn’t have an affair to get this son—don’t even think it. Jermaine came from New York City to the Grangers as a Fresh Air kid, and he never left. Ma said he fit right in with her boys, plus his name started with a J—God must have meant it to be. Jermaine’s mother—uncomfortably quickly—agreed. No one ever looked back, and if anyone ever questioned Jermaine’s rightful place in the Granger flock, they had Ma to answer to.
    “How’s the family?” I asked.
    In a flash Jermaine’s face turned from serious to lighthearted and back to serious.
    “They’re great. No sign of the flu yet. Vernice is back at work and Lavina is the cutest little thing you ever saw.”
    Jermaine’s wife, Vernice, runs a day care for single mothers only. Her mom had taken it over for the past three months while Vernice got to take care of her own new baby. Now that Vernice was back at work, Lavina would be the only child at the day care with the benefit of a mother and a father.
    “Lavina going to the day care with Vernice?” I asked.
    “Huh-uh. Too worried about this flu thing. Seems like you can’t tell who’s got it till it’s too late. My mother-in-law’s watching the baby.”
    “Vernice still nursing her? Getting her those antibodies?”
    “Sure is. Anything we can do to fight off this nasty bug.”
    A good plan. “Any word on Zach?”
    “Just that he’s back home. Jethro showed up not long ago, but he wasn’t in a talking mood and I didn’t want to push. I guess Belle kicked him out of the house. He was being a mother hen and driving them all crazy. He and Jordan are out back. Jude’s got some combine trouble and they’re all standing there scratching their heads. Now, what’s up? I mean, why are you here?”
    “My mower.” I jerked my thumb toward my truck. “Got a cracked deck.”
    Jermaine walked to my truck and lifted the mower out of the bed with one arm. He set it on the ground and squatted to get a look at it. Queenie yipped at us, and I stuck my hand in the window to make sure she wasn’t getting too hot.
    “I need to get my lawn mowed today,” I said.
    Jermaine grunted and stood up. “I could fix you up if you want to wait, although it won’t be as pretty as if you’d left it here for a day or two.”
    “I don’t want to enter it in a contest. I just want to cut my grass.”
    Jermaine picked up the mower like it was nothing. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
    “Thanks. I’ll be back with the guys if you need help.”
    Jermaine smiled. Like he would need help from me with this eensy-weensy machine.
    I found the three Granger brothers out behind the garage. Jethro and Jordan were hunkered down beside the red Case International combine, their heads hidden underneath it, while Jude sat on a stack of tires, looking like his dog had died.
    “Hey,” I said.
    They all ignored me, but I decided to be gracious and put it down to extreme concentration. I moved behind Jethro and spoke into his ear. “Hey.”
    Jethro jerked up and hit his head on a piece of metal that stuck out from the body of the combine. “Geez, Stella, nothing like sneaking up on folks.”
    “Sorry. What’s going on?”
    “Jude’s combine decided it was time to go out to pasture,” Jordan said, standing up and rubbing dirt off his knees.
    Jordan is the third of the Granger eight, and the only brother—other than Abe—who’s not married. I’m sure there’s speculation about this, since Jordan is thirty-seven, but seeing who his brothers are, no one ever says anything so the Grangers would hear it.
    “What’d it do?” I asked, eyeing the combine.
    “Not sure,” Jethro said. “But from what Jude says,