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Writer's pictureljellis57

The List and The Lecture

Updated: Jul 23, 2020


Scott's hand hovered over the decanter housing what Murdoch referred to as “the good stuff”. The hand paused as the owner’s face reflected a moment of deliberation. The hand rejected “the good stuff “ to choose the crystal stopper guarding “the really good stuff” which was absolutely off limits according to Rule Number Twelve. A gesture of “why not” displayed by the older brother indicated he was unconcerned with rule twelve and removed the heavy glass stopper to pour himself one...no wait...two fingers of “the really good stuff.”


Johnny let out a low whistle of admiration.


A sideways glance from Scott was followed by an inquiry. “Care to join me, brother?”


“Well, brother, if you’re pourin’ I believe I do.”


A healthy portion of amber liquid danced into a second lead crystal glass. Holding up his own nectar of the Scottish Gods, a salute was given and the older son took his first sip.


“Tell me, Boston, what are we celebrating?”


“A very good question. We are celebrating the brief incarceration of my dear little cousin courtesy of the Green River sheriff.”


Scott’s enlightening statement fell upon Johnny’s ears at the exact time “the really good stuff” hit the back of younger brother’s dry throat resulting in a coughing fit that Doc Jenkins would have called impressive.


The older son calmly watched his brother turn red and gasp for air. As should any big brother worth his weight in gold, Scott offered his advice. “Perhaps it would be in your best interest to embrace sarsaparilla.”


Another dose of broken rule number twelve helped revive Johnny so he could further satisfy his curiosity.


“Kinsey got herself arrested?”


“She did.”


Scott unfolded the now famous paper for his brother to view. “The list of charges.”


“They’re numbered.”


“They are. I believe in the order of occurrence. Rather efficient of Val I thought.”


“Assaulting an officer of the law?”


“She barely kicked him. Or so I hear.” Scott retrieved the paper from his brother to place back in his shirt pocket. “Evidence.”



“How do you plan to handle this one?”


“I plan to first finish my drink. I will then go upstairs and subject my cousin to one of my long, thought-provoking speeches regarding appropriate behavior and respecting her elders.”


“Yeah, well, I know what the old man would do.”


“Yes, well, so do I. It’s my backup plan. Speaking of...where is your father?”


“My father? You mean our father.”


“No. Considering my state of mind at this very moment, I mean your father. Please find your father, tell him what has happened and that his oldest son is requesting to talk to him.”


Scott gave Kinsey the courtesy of one knock before opening her door and stepping in. He found the young lady standing by the bedroom window with her arms wrapped around her in a self-hug.


“Scott, I’m sorry.”


“I bet you are.”


Pulling out the chair from her writing desk, Scott placed it in the middle of the room.


“Come here.”


The dread on his cousin’s face was replaced with one of relief when she heard the words “Sit down.” The transformation was not lost on the older cousin. ‘Don't get overconfident little one. You’re not out of the woods by a long shot.’


Scott began. “You and I are going to have a discussion. But first, I will explain our roles for this discussion. My role will be one of talking. I am the one who talks. Your role will be one of listening. You are the one who listens and that will be all you do. Listen. Now, some would call this a lecture. I prefer to think of it as a discussion.”


Scott’s thumb pointed to his chest. “Talking.”


His finger pointed to the freckled nose he towered over. “Listening.”


Crossing his arms he wanted to be certain there was no confusion. “Clear?” A quiet nod indicated he had succeeded in his explanation.


“Kinsey, you are an intelligent, thoughtful, caring, young woman. Your passion and compassion are, at times, overwhelming, but qualities I greatly admire. You have the ability and determination to become whoever you want to be; a successful businesswoman, a loving wife, and mother, perhaps a decent cook, God-willing. I have watched you grow-up considerably since the day you set foot in California and I am extremely proud of you. I know I don’t tell you that nearly enough and I'm going to make it point to correct my oversight. Kinsey, I care for you and I want the very best for you.”


Scott retrieved the piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it and handed it to his cousin. “Take a good look at Val’s list. When I read that list I am reminded of the spoiled little lady I first met in Melbourne. Kinsey, you want to have your beliefs and ideas to be heard. Who do you think would be taken more seriously; the intelligent young woman I know you are or the little girl throwing a tantrum over a tea party that people see?”


Observing his cousin wipe away a rogue tear confirmed to Scott his message was hitting its mark.


“Now, I want you to sit there and hold on to Sheriff Crawford's list. When you are ready to have a conversation, come find me. All right?” Again, a silent nod was a welcomed response.


Scott located his father standing in front of the day's popular liquor cabinet.


“You could have at least cleaned up after yourself, son.”


Scott simply stared.


“Johnny tells me Will Jenkins and Kinsey locked horns and Val had to step in. Why did you let that happen?”


“No Sir. Correction. Why did we let that happen? Instead of supporting Kinsey we handed her off to Jenkins. What the hell did we think would happen?” Before his father could respond Scott continued. “Tomorrow I'm escorting Kinsey to Jenkins’ office so she can apologize, try to set things straight and above all, support her; something I should have done in the first place. And Sir, the next time you feel your potatoes aren't being passed to your liking please know I couldn't care less.”


The son was prepared for his father to follow him as he turned and left the study, however, it didn't happen. As he sat on the wooden porch swing with the evening settling in around him, Scott had a thought. ‘I still need to fix the squeak in this swing.’


“Scott?”


And then he had another. 'Ah, the young lady’s voice I've been waiting to hear.'

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