Page 1 of Class Act

Chapter One

Cain

April 4th…

“How many times have I told you that your mother knows what’s best for you?” Hannah Remington’s push to see me settled is growing stronger by the day. And that’s only a slight exaggeration.

My response of, “Apparently not enough if you’re still saying it,” is met with silence. This is the only aspect in which she and I don’t see eye to eye. She wants me to find what she and my dad, Malcolm, have, as do I. Which is hard to do when I’m not searching for it.

I graduated top of my class in high school – admittedly, it was a small one, but it counts – then went to college where I did the same. Within a bigger group that time as I’d gone out of state. Afterwards, I returned home, took over my family’s farm to lessen the load on my parents, and accepted a position as an elementary teacher.

While both jobs make me happy, I’m tired as hell. Honestly, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up. Which is why my mom is pushing for me to get married, figuring it’ll lessen my load and slow me down.

If I was in a serious relationship I could understand her drive for this outcome, but I’m not even currently dating anyone. Nor have I since…if I can’t recall, then it’s been a long damn time.

And I don’t miss it, which speaks volumes in my opinion.

“Cain Alexander,” she admonishes me. “You need a helpmeet.”

“Mom,” I say placatingly, “this is a moot point…”

“Don’t use fancy words on me.” Says the woman that used helpmeet.

“…because none of the women here interest me.” I just know I’ll look back on this moment and realize the hmmm she emits after that statement should’ve warned me something was coming, but in my defense, I did mention that I don’t get as much sleep as I should.

“My boy,” she whispers, as if in prayer, to which I promise her that I’ll be careful and think about what she said. The first is true, the latter not so much. But it’s what she needs to hear, so I placate her. “See that you do before I step in.”

That was ominous.

However, I brush it off as duty calls and let her know we’ll talk later. Tipping my ever present cowboy hat down to shield my hazel eyes from the sun, I go outside. It’s time to check on my animals – cattle, chickens, sheep, and goats – as well as the crops.

Mason, my right-hand, is waiting for me. He’d filled the same role under my dad for years, and thankfully, agreed to stay on, take me under his wing, and provide tutelage.

“She on you again?” He asks.

“Is it a day that ends in y?” I snicker. Mason, to his unending horror, has been in the vicinity – which can at times be within a mile radius if she really gets worked up – when she’s brought it up. Not that he stays around for long when she does. Somehow the man who resembles a bear can make an exit so soundlessly it’s as if he walks on air. So much so that if I believed in past lives, I’d say one of his was a prima ballerina. Or a ghost. Wait, if he was a sprit, that wouldn’t really be a formerlife, now would it?

Shaking my head, I take a chug of my coffee, hoping it’ll get rid of the cobwebs lack of sleep and dealing with my mom on top of it seem to give me. Letting Mason know I’m ready, we go over what he’s already taken care of and what’s still on the agenda.

It’s usually the same every day, but there are times unexpected situations occur, so we do this each morning, then again in the afternoon when I return from school. My schedule is planned to a t, the slightest deviation from it having the ability to throw everything off-kilter.

When we’re done, we enjoy a dinner break, then head back out to bed the animals down for the night before returning to our respective homes to do the same ourselves.

As my creaking too soon for my age bones settle on the mattress, my brain is too tired to fight my subconscious, which has to be the only reason a final thought slips through as I close my eyes.

What if my momisright?

Chapter Two

Madelyn

April 7th…

I glance once more at the building in front of me, the sign stating it houses the office of Permanently Yours, assuring me I’m in the right place.

A temp agency is my last hope. Something has to give soon, and I’m scared it’s going to be me if I don’t get a break, though I’m not sure I’d recognize one if I got it, so there’s that. Taking a deep breath, I stride inside, portraying a confidence I don’t feel, and walk to the front desk. I introduce myself, adding that I have an appointment for nine. I politely decline the offer of a beverage, fearing it wouldn’t sit well on an already churning stomach, and take a seat as suggested.

Only a few minutes pass before my name is called. “Ms. Rayne?” I rise to my feet, fighting the urge to smooth down my secondhand skirt, then go ahead and do it, albeit subtly, as my palms are damp and I’d rather Mrs. Pederson not know that. We shake hands, then she bids me to follow her into her office. The churning has increased, as if furthering the belief that this is my final option, and I once more say no when asked if I’d like a refreshment.

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