CAN I GET A WITNESS?

CHAPTER 4: MENDING FENCES

AN: Happy Saturday!

oxoxoxoxoxo

Nothing much scared Walter O'Brien. As long as he was able to calculate the odds of a favorable outcome, risks typically didn't bother him. Paige assumed he was nervous because her insistence on going to dinner at their neighbors' house might expose their true identities or give away their location. And he was concerned about that. A little. But he knew the odds were low. Slightly higher statistically if they slipped up and used their real names or their cover stories didn't jibe. All in all, however, he was fairly confident they wouldn't place themselves in further danger from one social encounter.

However, the truth was Walter allowed Paige to think he was nervous about being exposed because he didn't want to acknowledge the real reason.

He was afraid the Grahams wouldn't like him. It was an old fear. An illogical one, he knew. But he couldn't help it. Paige had cited his inability to relate to her normal friends as part of the reason she was unsatisfied with their previous relationship.

Later, she swore she didn't mean the hateful things she'd said to him when she'd left. It didn't matter. He still struggled with doubts. Because he knew he really did frustrate her with his social inadequacies. And he was all too aware he'd never be the life of the party. He'd improved somewhat over the years working with Paige, but he very much feared he'd always come off as weird to normal people. The only thing he could try to do differently is pretend not to be miserable.

That was another thing she'd said. Paige couldn't stand how he always looked miserable the whole time they were out with her friends. And the reason those comments still bothered him so much is because he knew there was a grain of truth in them no matter what she later said to the contrary.

He would just need to try the old 'fake it til you make it' method. Isn't that what normal people did?

He could do this. He had to do this. He could follow her lead. He could be pleasant. He could be considerate. He could strive to be normal for one evening.

Even if it killed him.

OXOXOXOXOXO

It was an utter disaster.

It didn't start off that badly. Suzanne greeted everyone warmly and graciously accepted the bottle of wine they'd brought over as a hostess gift. Scooter politely shook hands with Walter and Cabe when they were introduced. He showed them to the living room and offered them each a beer. Paige was surprised and a little worried when Walter actually took the alcoholic beverage without so much as a blink. There was no lecture about impairing cognitive abilities, nothing.

O-kay. That was new.

Ralph and the Graham's three daughters were a touch distant with each other at first. Until Lyla, their eldest, asked him if he liked horses. Soon the conversation turned to enthusiastic gushing about the colt that'd been born a few days before and it wasn't long before the girls were begging to take Ralph to the barn to show off the newest member of their equine family.

Suzanne smiled indulgently, "I don't see why not. The coals on the grill aren't quite hot enough yet, so dinner will still be another half hour at least."

Paige was about to grant her permission when Walter said an emphatic and final 'no', offering no explanation but brooking no arguments either. The Graham girls looked stunned and Ralph fell into mutinous silence, glaring daggers at Walter.

A long, awkward pause followed, then Walter smiled benignly at Suzanne and said, "The drapes in the bay window are quite lovely. They precisely match the blue stripe in this couch."

Needless to say, his demeanor came off a bit over-the-top and creepy.

She replied with a somewhat leery, "Um, thanks? My mother-in-law made them…"

Paige hopped up. "Um, Suzanne, can I help you with anything in the kitchen?"

Their hostess instantly grabbed the lifeline. "Oh, uh, sure. Come on and help me with the rolls."

"I'll come too," Allie said and followed the other two women to the kitchen. As they left, a TV blared to life, loudly broadcasting a baseball game. Paige could well imagine Walter's and Ralph's eyes glazing over.

Paige tried to take out her frustrations on the dough as she punched it down and slapped it on the counter before kneading it into submission. She reminded herself Walter couldn't help it and she suddenly felt the need to defend him to her new friend. "I'm sorry about 'J-Joe'. He's not comfortable around people he doesn't know very well. It takes him time to warm up. Trust me, he grows on you."

"He's also very protective of 'Julian'," Allie added, "He doesn't mean to be disagreeable."

Paige smiled her thanks at Allie for the show of solidarity.

The three ladies gathered around the greased muffin tins and began rolling the dough into balls.

"Don't worry about it," Suzanne assured them, "It's just… you can see the barn from the front porch and our kids practically grew up in there. We never think anything about our girls going out there on their own. But I understand if Joe thinks Julian is too, well, kind of delicate…"

"My son is not delicate," Paige said between teeth bared in a forced smile. Allie laid a flour-coated hand on her arm to steady her.

Suzanne hurried to explain, "I didn't mean any offense. Really. We just don't watch our kids like a hawk in the country, that's all I meant. My girls can handle themselves. I didn't mean to imply there's anything wrong…" She drifted off uncomfortably and made a show of examining their handy-work on the bread. "Well, it looks like we can cover this dough and leave it to rise for a few minutes. How about we open that wine now?"

While Suzanne was hunting for a corkscrew and setting out three wine glasses, Scooter burst through the swinging kitchen door. He was a big, broad-shouldered man who seemed to fill the entire space. He snatched a large platter of meat out of the refrigerator and headed for the back door.

"Need any help?" Cabe called from the other room. The door slammed shut on his offer. Both literally and figuratively. But not before Paige heard Scooter grumbling about not needing help from some 'citified smartass' and his father.

Oh, boy. What had Walter said now?

Paige cringed inwardly and pasted on her best affable smile. The women sipped wine and chatted fairly amiably until it was time to set the table. Scooter appeared to have calmed down and collected himself as he cordially asked everyone his or her drink preference. He automatically got Cabe and Walter a second beer each. When Walter took the bottle from his host the grimace he wore made him look like he'd swallowed a bug, but he thanked Scooter civilly.

Paige tried to catch Walter's eye and ask him a silent 'what the heck', but he never made eye contact.

Soon the group began to pass the dishes of sumptuous smelling food around the table. It was plain their hostess had spent many hours of prep time in the kitchen, going to a lot of trouble to put the meal together. Suzanne stopped in the midst of cutting up her youngest daughter's steak when she noticed Allie kept passing the dishes and never actually put anything on her own plate.

"Are you feeling okay?" She asked, looking at her guest apprehensively.

"Oh, uh, yes. I'm fine. Um, I should've mentioned before. I'm vegan."

Scooter choked and turned red in the face.

Suzanne glared at her husband, "I'm so sorry. I should've thought to ask. Could you… maybe eat the salad? Or how about a roll?"

Allie squirmed uncomfortably and replied in a small, embarrassed voice, "The salad has bacon bits in it and the dressing is made with buttermilk. The, uh, rolls have egg in them if I'm not mistaken."

If Suzanne's expression was devastated. In contrast, Scooter's looked completely livid. "What the hell are you people doing working on a cattle ranch? For fuck's sake take a roll," He demanded. "Eating bread has never killed anyone yet."

"It's okay," Allie tried, choosing to ignore Scooter's attitude and his comments entirely. Instead she addressed Suzanne directly, "I'll just visit with everyone then I can eat something at home. It's really not problem. The rest of my family can..."

Cabe slapped the table, drawing all the attention to himself. His eyes narrowed on his host. "She doesn't have to eat if she doesn't want to. It's her choice. Leave her alone." He rose halfway out of his seat before Allie patted him on the shoulder. He slid back into his chair, fuming.

Walter took a swig of beer and suppressed a belch. He pointed with the bottle to the portrait on the dining room wall. "Nice *hic* picture. It uncannily resembles the people in the famous 'American Gothic' painting. The same pose and everything." He snorted. "That same old, unhappy couple looking sour and like they want to use a pitchfork on each other. Or themselves."

"Those are my grandparents!" Scooter roared.

The whole O'Brien clan left before any of them took another bite.

OXOXOXOXOXO

Back at home, a humiliated Paige helped Allie put a simple dinner of tomato basil soup and crackers together while Walter sat on the couch staring out the window with a pensive frown on his face. The beer and the stress of the evening had given him a colossal headache. Cabe watched the rest of the baseball game, scowling at the television as if willing it to say a word so he could pound it through the floor. Ralph had stomped up to his room in a massive huff.

Nobody felt much like eating. Ralph refused to come down at all. They got through dinner all the same, however. Afterwards, Allie and Cabe made a quiet exit to the bunkhouse.

Leaving Walter and Paige alone.

He couldn't meet her gaze. Staring at his feet, he mumbled, "I'm sorry. I'm aware I screwed up. I know you must be disappointed in-in, uh, me."

He looked so troubled Paige couldn't stand it. She knelt on the floor in front of him as he sat there glumly on the couch. "No. Walter, no."

She grasped his chin and made him look at her fully. "It wasn't your fault." Then she smiled. "Well, maybe the American Gothic comments didn't help matters. Was that the beer talking?"

He didn't return the smile. "I'm sure the alcohol exacerbated my lack of filter, yes. I only wanted to fit in with… I didn't want to refuse and insult… It's just… I know you hate this about me. I want you to know I tried. I really did." He ran a frustrated hand down his face. "Don't give up on me. Okay?"

Paige was sincerely confused. "Who said I was giving up on you? Where is this coming from?"

"I know my behavior around humans frustrates you. I know you sometimes think I'll never improve. To the point you are unsatisfied with our relationship."

"Oh, Walter," she breathed, "Hey. You weren't the only jerk in that house tonight and we both know it. You were probably less of a jerk than Scooter if we're comparing here." She got up and sat next to him on the sofa. She slipped her arms around his waist, leaning her head on his shoulder. "You're right. Your social issues do frustrate me at times. But I'm not going anywhere."

"Well, not now. It wouldn't be safe."

"Not ever. Do you hear me? Leaving you was never the answer. I really did a number on you with the stuff I said when I left, didn't I? Well, I fully intend to it prove I'm here to stay this time. I'm not giving up on you. I'm not leaving. That wasn't the answer then. It's not the answer now. Leaving will never be the answer. I love you. No matter what. Got it?"

Walter took her hand and began toying with her ring finger. "For better or worse?"

His soft spoken question made her heart bump erratically at the implication. She hid a bashful smile in his shirt. "Yes. When you get ready to ask a certain question, that's my answer. A thousand times, yes."

"Once is enough for me." Walter nodded against her hair and his posture finally relaxed. After a few minutes of enjoying her closeness, he said, "Ralph is really mad at me. He may not be too keen on staying with me right now."

"You were trying to keep him safe. He'll get over it. Now take me to bed so we can get over tonight's fiasco together."

OXOXOXOXOXO

"Hey, man."

Scooter approached Walter as he was reinforcing a fence post that had begun to lean. He looked at the other man warily. "Hey."

"Look. I'm really sorry about dinner last night. I can kinda be a jerk to folks I don't know very well. I'm not much good at meeting new people."

"Yeah? I've been told things like that a lot myself. Only 'arrogant', 'rude' or 'weird' are the adjectives most often used to describe me."

Scooter grinned, "I mostly get 'asshole', so 'arrogant', 'rude' and 'weird' would be an improvement."

Walter chuckled. "I've gotten that one too. Many times, in fact."

The big man took the cap off of his head and scratched at his scalp before replacing it at a slightly crooked angle. "Look, I'm deep in the doghouse with my Suzanne. I can't stand it when she's mad at me. My life's not worth living right now. You know how it is. Can I tell her we've made nice?"

"When I mess up, 'Jessica' is an expert at making things tough on me as well." They shared a sympathetic look. "So, yes. I know what you mean. Luckily, last night she thought you were worse than me."

Scooter threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Women, right?"

"You can tell Suzanne we're okay now."

Without being asked, Scooter bent and held the post upright while Walter packed dirt around it with a shovel. "You may want to think about putting cement around the base of these. I have a mixer in the barn if you ever want to use it."