Chapter Two

Chapter Two

"Reba! Rebarebarebareba……..Van and Cheyenne!" So went Barbara Jeans entrance.

Van and Cheyenne, who had been discussing feelings (much to Vans discomfort) on the couch, looked up at the blonde airhead who had burst in on their conversation, head to toe in running gear.

"Barbara Jean, are you seriously going for a run?" Cheyenne shook her head in disbelief.

"Yeah. Is Reba here?" she panted.

"She's drunk in the bathtub," Van answered promptly. Nodding quickly, Barbara Jean hurried up the stairs two at time.

"REBA!" Barbara Jean threw the door open. Reba, who was soaking underneath layers of opaque white bubbles, screamed at the top of her lungs, stifling it quickly so as not to wake Elizabeth (Jake was at his Dads).

"Barbara Jean, what in the world? I'm in the bath!" Reba hissed. "And shut the door," she added, sinking deeper beneath the waters so her knees poked through the surface.

"Oh, Reba, I have made up my mind," Barbara Jean said excitedly, slamming the door and sitting on the toilet, crossing her legs and leaning toward her friend.

"You think you have a mind? Take a swig," Reba ordered, jerking her head towards the bottle of wine. As Barbara Jean obeyed, she asked, "Made up your… 'mind' about what?"

"Tomorrow, first thing, I'm divorcing Brock."

Reba stared at her, flabbergasted, for two full seconds, then held out her hand. "My turn."

After taking a long drink, she shivered from the buzz and handed it back. "Okay, say that again?"

Barbara Jean repeated her sentence. She shook her head. "Barbara Jean, I thought things were going great – you're going to counseling- "

"Yeah, but that doesn't help, all of our therapists are hot!" she whined. Reba rolled her eyes.

"Be serious, Barbara Jean."

"I am, Reba…do you know how long I've had those papers?"

"What papers?" Reba asked blankly. Barbara Jean sighed exasperatedly. "Oh, oh!! Those papers…yeah, those ones, got it. No, I don't know, how long?"

"Since I found out that he was taking those stupid pills. I knew right then, I just knew it, that I wasn't enough for him."

Reba sighed, saddened by what she had said. She knew how that felt. "Barbara Jean…"

But Barbara Jean cut her off. "I mean it, Reba, and nothing is changing my mind."

"Look, Barbara Jean, divorce is…really hard. You have to think this through – all the nights you're gonna spend alone, all the memories that aren't gonna go away, it's not gonna just end, Barbara Jean."

"It can't be as bad as this, Reba, this…separation." She spoke the word like she was describing her latest encounter with a spider. "I don't know what I'm waiting for…I just know that things won't get better. So it's over."

Reba knew that at this point, there was no turning back. They were really going to divorce. "How'd Brock take it?" she asked after a pause.

"He doesn't know yet."

"What – Barbara Jean, you told me before you tell him? That's just…wrong!" Reba couldn't believe anyone could not keep a secret this big as long as possible. When it was her, she didn't exactly go around yelling "I'M GETTING A DIVORCE!! YESIREEFRED, THAT'S ME, I'M A DIVORCEE TO BE, LOOKEE!!"

Barbara Jean frowned, confused. "But…I knew he was divorcing you before you knew, so…?"

"That's not the point," Reba rolled her eyes. "You can't just-"

"Oh, get over it, Reba! Kyra and Henry already know, they didn't complain!" Barbara Jean pointed out.

"What – you told them first?" her jaw actually dropped. "Barbara Jean, if you're sure about this –"

"I am!"

"Than go tell Brock, before anyone else!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" Barbara Jean stood and walked to the door. "Later, Reebs. Thanks for the wine."

After the door shut, Reba just shook her head, staring after her. "Yup. Wine. Lot's of it."

"Barbara Jean, where are you going?" Cheyenne asked as Barbara Jean hurried down the stairs and to the door.

"To ask your Dad for a divorce." She slammed the door behind her.

Van and Cheyenne stared after her, sort of like how Reba had done. "Did she just….did I just hear…is she really…?"

"Do you think Mom knows anything about this?" Cheyenne asked sharply. "They were just in the bathroom together, maybe Barbara Jean told her."

"Or, maybe they both realized that neither one of them needs a man. Hey, I'm just saying!" Van added, rubbing the spot where Cheyenne hit him.

"Hey, there she is!" Cheyenne pointed to the hallway upstairs, where she could see Reba wrapped up in a towel, hair in a clip, exiting the bathroom. She stood and called, "Mom!"

"What, Cheyenne?" Reba turned abruptly, oblivious to Van grinning at her current clothing.

"Is it true about Dad and Barbara Jean, is she really leaving him?"

Reba didn't answer right away. She'd just noticed the silly grin on her son-in-laws face. Blushing a little she made sure she was completely covered before saying, "Yeah, that's what she told me."

"Does she really mean it?" Cheyenne, who didn't notice Van, pressed.

"I think so. VAN WILL YOU STOP THAT!" Reba yelled. Van didn't hear her. It wasn't until Cheyenne finally took notice of the situation and slapped him hard on the back of the head that he showed any sign of life.

"Ow!" he complained as Reba stomped to her room, muttering something about "That perverted little…"

The next day, Brock drove to Rebas house with Jake. While pretending to listen to Jake's story about school, he wondered how she would react to him after the poker game. He had to stifle a laugh when he thought of the other surprise he had in store for her.

"Hey, Reba, Cheyenne," he said, smiling as he opened the front door. He paid specific attention to the former; at the sight of him, she blushed and murmured a soft, "Hey, Brock."

"Hey, Reba, you okay?" Brock asked, the tiniest hint of laughter in his voice. She heard it and looked into his eyes suspiciously.

"Yeah, why…Brock?" she clicked in the back of her throat saying the 'k' in his name.

"Oh, you just look a little…flushed."

"Hey, Mr. H, do you think you could take me fishing? I need to learn how so Cheyenne will let me do it for the rest of my life!" Van called from the couch. Cheyenne sighed impatiently, flipping another page of her Vanity Fair magazine.

"I wanna fish, Dad!" Jake agreed.

Before Brock could answer, the doorbell rang. His heart jumped and he had to sit down before saying, "We'll see, Van, you should probably find a job, all the same."

Reba actually gave him an appreciative smile on her way to the door. He held his breath as it opened, but when he heard, "Barbara Jean, what is that?" he sighed in disappointment, then turned to face his soon-to-be-ex wife.

She was holding a huge cardboard box which was apparently heavy. She staggered over the threshold, and looked so helpless that Reba actually took it away from her and rested it one hip. To her, it wasn't very heavy.

"Its my collection of calories. I'm thinking tonight…we pig out!" she beamed at Reba who tilted her head to one side and pondered this. Everyone rolled their eyes and turned away.

"Sure, why not?"

Several things happened at once. Van, who had just taken a drink of his soda, spit it out…through his nose. Cheyenne dropped her magazine, Brocks eyes bugged and Jake yelled, "Whoa!" but he may have been looking at the pop and bogeys that were now on the coffee table. Then, to top these off, a man came to the open door with flowers.

"Flowers for Reba Hart," he said to the astonished room.

"What?" Reba tore her gaze away from the family and moved it to the man holding a bouquet of red roses. Everyone's astonishment doubled, except for Brocks, who worked as hard as he could not to say anything and to keep a straight face.

"Thanks," Reba accepted the flowers with a smile and the man left. She shut the door and frowned a little at the bouquet, setting the box on the table next to the door. "Who could these be from?"

"Yeah, seriously, I mean who would send you flowers?" Van laughed a little, looking around to see if anyone would join in. No one did.

"Go on, Reba!" Barbara Jean urged her. "Open the card!"

She got a rush of adrenaline pulling the card from the plastic holder stuck in the wrapping of the bouquet. Brock pursed his lips sharply, praying that the laughter building up inside him wouldn't crack a rib, or explode.

Is it Jack? Is he back in town? Oh, please don't let it be Parker…Reba thought wildly. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared her for what the note said.

Enjoy the REDROSES, Kevin. I look forward to our date – good thing our locations are so convenient! – Brock

"Reba? What's it say…?" Barbara Jean asked, jumping up and down a little and trying to see over her shoulder. Reba pressed the card to her chest so that she couldn't read it.

"Mom whose it from?" Cheyenne asked curiously. She couldn't answer; what was she supposed to say? It looked like Brock had her cornered. She didn't even want to look at him, she just stared down at the roses, having a sudden urge to rip them to shreds.

All she could do for now was claim her precious right to silence. Stepping off the landing, she tucked the card down her shirt and slowly made her way to where Brock was sitting. She could tell, just by looking at him, that he was dying to burst into hysterics.

Reba smacked him across the face as hard as she could with the roses, hoping that a thorn poked through the plastic and scraped his eyeball.

"Ow, geez!" Brock yelped, holding his face in his hands.

"Whoa!" Jake repeated, staring at this sudden outburst.

"Mom, what was that? Mom – MOM!?" Cheyenne called after her as she stalked into the kitchen, fist tightly clenched around the stems of her roses.

She and Barbara Jean exchanged a confused stare, then both hurried into the kitchen to find out what was wrong.