Forever a Stallion. Deborah Mello Fletcher

leave the room before he said something he would later regret. He’d left and Matthew, Mark and Luke had followed closely on his heels.

      Now he was thinking about their father and their mother, having idolized the two since forever. Their father had always called their mother “Sug,” short for “Sugar,” his sweet and honey, he used to say. John remembered wanting what his mom and dad had when he grew up and found a wife, their love so magnanimous that he and his brothers use to look on them with awe. He’d wanted to love his woman as hard as he remembered James having loved Irene, and he did, his heart so full for his wife, Marah, that he couldn’t ever imagine life without the phenomenal woman.

      John also couldn’t fathom the thought of being unfaithful to Marah and he couldn’t begin to rationalize his father having committed such a crime against his mother. There had been little the couple hadn’t shared or done together. John had vivid memories of the two bowling together, camping together and just enjoying the beauty of each other’s company. They’d been the perfect complement to each other. His father had been stern and commanding, with only one weakness, his wife. Irene Stallion had been the epitome of virtue, a woman with a huge heart of pure gold. She’d been the most giving person John had ever known, devoting her time and energy to more causes than any of them could ever begin to count. But not once did she sacrifice her children or her family, the Stallion boys always front and center in her mind and her heart.

      John smiled as he remembered the many kisses and hugs and secret touches of affection that had passed between his parents when neither thought anyone was paying attention. The two had shown so much love for each other that to now discover that maybe their relationship hadn’t been so perfect was truly challenging his spirit.

      Hearing his name being called pulled him back to the moment.

      “John, what do you think?” Matthew was questioning, echoing Mark’s query.

      John turned to face them, his dejected expression causing each of them concern. He shrugged his shoulders, one teardrop escaping past his thick lashes. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Right now Aunt Juanita seems to know more than any one of us ever did.”