Page 47 of Red River

"Guys, we’re in a store. Act like the well-behaved kids I know you can be," I said calmly.

The cashier gave us a sideways glance while ringing up our items.

River’s face was red as a beet, clearly taking the boys’ behavior personally—like it was a reflection of his poor performance in raising them.

Igor’s glare was murderous as he looked at Van. When we got to the car, I saw him shove past Van without a word as they climbed into the backseat, nearly knocking him over.

"Get it together, boys!" River hissed. "What kind of behavior is that? How does this look—not just in front of Archer but also in front of strangers? Public fights? Come on! It’s begging for Family Services to come check us out!"

"Then he shouldn’t slander our father! All I hear is what a bad businessman he was, how fat he was, and that he didn’t fulfill his… marital duties. And what else? That he taught us to stuff our faces? Give the man a break—he’s dead!"

The entire ride home, none of us said a word, each for different reasons. All those accusations against Thomas were pretty accurate. Of course, Igor didn’t see it that way, but the truth was, we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, especially when they can’t defend themselves.

However, that didn’t change the fact that I couldn’t let bad habits take root in the children. Their father had died from complications related to obesity, and they might be genetically predisposed.

The only responsible thing to do was to teach them healthy habits, no matter how much I sympathized with their loss. It all came down to making choices, understanding consequences, and the kids had to start learning that.

RIVER

Sometimes, I felt like I was on the verge of getting an ulcer. My stomach twisted into knots every time I saw my younger kids interacting with Igor or Igor interacting with Archer.

To make things worse, Sam and Riley kept bombarding me with texts, asking for updates, and I had no idea what to tell them.

They both tried calling, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick up. I just didn’t have the mental energy to deal with them on top of everything else. I’d hoped that coming here would help lower my stress, but so far, it was doing the opposite.

My prayer was that it was only the time of transition.

After we got back from the store, Archer had the younger boys doing exercises. First, they ran in circles for a while, then moved on to push-ups, sit-ups, and squats.

While they were running, I stared at them blankly—half of me feeling happy, the other half guilty for being a parent who had let them stay at home glued to their screens.

Sometimes, I was so dead tired I couldn’t find the strength to organize another form of entertainment for them, no matter how much I wanted to. I just needed a second parent to join forces with, but for years, it was only me—constantly on the run, driving to school, shopping, doctor appointments, cooking, cleaning—all with a headset on, responding to clients' calls.

It was so maddeningly exhausting that I simply couldn’t do more.

And now, I stared at Archer, at his strength, and felt an almost overwhelming relief that, finally, my kids would have more than an overworked dad.

That said, Thomas was always interested in their school achievements and enjoyed engaging in conversations on various subjects. He was always willing to listen, but his mobility and health greatly limited his influence on them.

Once they were done, they started planning a spot in the yard where Archer wanted to build an obstacle course. It would have ladders, a climbing wall, pull-up bars, a rope and more. Van and Aiden were ecstatic—but for different reasons. Aiden loved building things, while Van was eager to have a place to practice bouldering. As for Lake, he was just happy to be included. He liked helping out and found joy in simply being around people, especially when something interesting was happening.

They were really excited, and I was glad that at least the younger kids were getting along with Archer and responding positively to his ideas.

After lunch, which Igor skipped again, Archer took the younger boys back to the Jeep and drove off to Home Depot to buy the materials they needed for the obstacle course.

While Archer was gone, Oliver glanced at the plate meant for Igor and muttered, "Maybe I’ll sneak it to him?"

A strange unease prickled down my spine. My eyes met his, and in that moment, I saw his nature as clearly as daylight—his beta nature. He didn’t value structure, rules, or rigid boundaries. But I did. I was tired of chaos, of everything falling apart.

"No. Archer set this rule, and I’ll follow it."

Oliver smirked. "But I won’t say a thing."

Irritation stirred in my chest, but I held it back, keeping it from seeping into my tone. "You don’t understand," I whispered, averting my eyes.

He shrugged. "It’s just a plate of food."

"No, it’s more than that. It’s about respect."

---