Conflicted Home (The Survivalist Book 9) A American (fun to read .TXT) 📖

He looked at it and asked, “How did you size these? It fits perfectly.”

Dalton smiled. “I pay attention to detail.”

Mitch addressed the crowd. “Alright, everyone. If there are no objections—”

I’d been waiting for this moment and stood up. To Mel’s obvious shock and horror as she grabbed my hand.

“I wasn’t going to say anything. But now that you mention it—” I trailed off, not intending to say anything. But everyone was collectively holding their breath.

Sarge cut his chin over his shoulder and said, “Shut up and sit-down, Morgan.”

I laughed, and it broke the tension. When I sat down, Mel asked, “What the hell was that?”

Patting her hand, I replied, “Just having a little fun. It’ll be a story for them to tell later.”

Mitch stepped forward, putting his arms around the two couples, and moving them with him, he announced, “By the power vested in me by, well, you guys, I now pronounce you husbands and wives!”

A collective cheer erupted as everyone leapt to their feet, clapping and whistling. I noticed Mike took off at a sprint and disappeared. A procession line of sorts formed as everyone made their way by the newlyweds to shake hands and offer hugs. When I got to Thad, he pointed at me, shaking his head, “You a mess, Morgan. You a mess.”

I laughed and hugged the big man. “I was just having a little fun.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” Aric said.

I clapped him on the back and laughed. “I thought it might get a rise out of you.”

“Rise, hell. I nearly shit myself. This was your idea!”

Dalton was standing off to the side and I waved him over. “Where did the rings come from?” I asked when he approached.

He reached into his pocket and took out a gold eagle coin. “I made ‘em out of these. It wasn’t hard and didn’t take long. I just wanted the guys to have a ring.”

“We really appreciate it,” Fred said as she looked at the ring on Aric’s finger.

“Very much,” Mary added.

As we all talked, music suddenly erupted from the house. It was the Jimmy Hendrix “Purple Haze”. I looked up towards the house and saw Mike standing on the rear steps. “Are we going to have a reception or what?” He shouted across the yard.

“Looks like we should move to the house,” I said.

As the group started towards the house, Sarge came up beside me. “Real funny there wise-ass,” he said.

“Awe, come on. It was funny.”

“That’s the kind of shit I’d expect from that pecker-head up there on the porch.”

I patted his back. “Come on. It’s like I told Mel. Gives them a story to tell later.” I patted his chest and added, “You look really sharp too. It was a cool thing you did for them.”

“It wasn’t shit and I’m getting out of this burin’ suit as fast as I can.”

Everyone made it up to the porch where the cakes were waiting along with a selection of things to eat. The two jugs of blackberry wine were also set out. I looked around for the music and found Mike standing beside an old record player. It had amazing sound and he was thumbing through a stack of records. His suit jacket was gone, and he now looked like the Mike we all knew.

Mike turned his attention from the turntable and looked at the gathering crowd. “Alright. We ready to kick this party off?” He asked. There was a cheer from the crowd and he clapped his hands. “It’s not much, but I have a contribution for the reception. He reached down to a cooler sitting at his feet and opened it. It was full of beer bottles floating in water with blocks of ice. Reaching in, he grabbed one and tossed it to the old man. “Here.”

Sarge caught it and looked at it suspiciously, asking, “What the hell is this?”

“What’s it look like? It’s an ice-cold beer!”

“Where the hell did you get beer from?” I asked.

“I found a brewing kit and a lot of supplies in the garage of the house. I’ve been saving it. Figured this was a good time, so I brewed it all up. This is all there is, so you better enjoy it.”

Sarge still eyed the bottle with suspicion. Mike shook his head and took the bottle from him, twisted the top off and took a long swig.” Ahh, damn that’s good!”

Soon, beers were being passed around and everyone was enjoying a cold one. And it wasn’t bad! Not the best, but considering how long it’d been since we’d seen a beer, it was the best I’d ever had.”

Despite his reservations about Mike, Sarge couldn’t take it any longer and tried the beer. I watched as he took a long pull and swished it around in his mouth. Swallowing it, he started to nod. “Just when I think you can’t possibly be any more worthless, you go and do something like this.” Sarge saluted Mike with the bottle, “That’s a fine oat soda there, Mikey.”

Mike smiled and replied, “I told ya.” Then Sarge turned his bottle up, draining it.

The Hendrix record was taken off and Otis Redding put on. I grabbed a couple of beers from the cooler and went outside. I pulled a folding camp chair over and set it up where I could watch the merriment on the porch. It was quite the contrast to what I was used to seeing. Music blared from the turntable and people milled about with beers in their hands. Then there was the way they were all dressed. That thought made me look down at my own clothes. It’s been a long time since any of us dressed this way. And tomorrow it would all go back to normal. Our normal at any rate.

I drank my beers and watched the brides and grooms dance. I watched as Sarge danced with each of the girls. There were a lot of cat-calls. Lots of laughing and hooting and hollering. No