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The hot blush spread over my face, and I wondered how I was going to get out of this one. Nothing came to me, so I stayed silent. Nan did not.
"I was a lot like you in my youth, you know that, dear?"
I didn't, but I sensed a story. And I loved Nan's stories. They always came with a lot of love, a little humor, and a large dose of hard truths. Nodding for her to continue, I crossed the kitchen, refilled my coffee cup, and slid back into my seat. This time I didn't bother to hide my pain.
"You never met my Joe," she began with a sigh. "None of you kids did. I guess that's kind of the point. Joe and I met when I was twenty-seven, working as a cashier down at the farm store in town. Back in those days, if you were twenty-seven and unmarried, you were nearing spinster status." Nan smiled and peered into her mug. "Anyway, I'll save the story of our courtship for another day and just tell you that he swept my feet straight out from under me. We were married shortly after my thirtieth birthday and couldn't wait to get started on a family. And whoo-eee, did we have fun trying!"
Her cheeky grin lit up her face, and I could see the laughter and love in the memories as they flitted across her face. And then, just like that, her smile fell, and her expression turned grim.
"But soon, the months turned into years, and nothing happened. After nearly a decade of this, trying had become more of a job, and my monthly became a period of mourning. I fell into a depression. I became obsessive, reading about this old wives' tale and that one, trying everything I could. Nothing else mattered. And then, one day, nothing mattered. I had spent years doing everything right, and it had gotten me nowhere. My sister came into town and, one night, we had a little too much wine. It was the first time I had felt alive in a long time. We drank every night, and when she left, I kept drinking. Joe put up with it for a while. And it got worse and worse. One day, he came home and found me passed out at the table, my face tear stained from crying over a baby name book, with a lit cigarette in my hand. He admitted, later, that he acted out of anger and that he should have waited, but that's neither here nor there. As the story goes, he hauled me out to the woodshed and gave me my first ever marital spanking. He used a pomegranate switch on me until I was a blubbering mess, swearing up and down never to smoke and drink again. But that wasn't enough for my Joe. The next morning, that man served me breakfast in bed and, after plying me with several cups of coffee, he presented me with a proposition, the likes of which I had never considered. A ranch for foster kids. One that would combine my love of kids and horses. We could start filling the empty rooms in this place with children, after eleven years of waiting. I was so excited. I finally felt hope. It had been so long, I barely remembered what it felt like. But, there was one condition," Nan trailed off with a wink, leaving no doubt in my mind as to what the condition was.
"Joe spanked you?" I asked, with a soft gasp. It made perfect sense, but it was a story I had never heard, and a reality I had never considered.
"He told me it was my job to keep the kids in line, and his job to keep me in line," Nan recounted with a smile, and a shake of her head. "I couldn't believe I was agreeing to it, but at the same time, that godawful switching had helped me clear all the hurt and disappointment. It had helped me let go of the anger and guilt I had carried around for so long. I couldn't explain it, still can't, but I saw it work, time and time again, both on myself and every single one of you kids."
I nodded, unable to argue her point, and waited. I knew there was more coming. Nan's stories were never short.
"Anyway, Joe was true to his word. We started the process to get foster approved, that very week, and spent almost a full year getting everything ready to open the ranch as a group home for older children. Special cases, who needed a little extra care. And throughout that year, anytime Joe saw something he didn't like, whether it was me getting too into my head, or not working hard to get stuff ready, or being just plain rude and disrespectful, he hauled me out to the woodshed and wore me out good."
I bit back a laugh at the idea of the woman I knew being rude or disrespectful to anyone, and a bigger laugh at the idea of her getting her butt beat over it. Nan laughed with me for a minute and then she sobered.
"He died only a few weeks before the final approval. I almost gave up, but I knew Joe wouldn't have wanted me to, and I was a little selfish, too. I wanted the house to be full of children. I had waited so long. With his death, it was a setback; things had to be changed, and paperwork had to be refiled. They weren't sure a young single woman could handle it all, but the nice caseworker, she believed in me, and she helped me get everything set right, once again. They sent the first child, Miss Audra Dean, two days before the Christmas of '77. We were both sad and broken, ripped away from our loved ones at the holidays. But neither of us had to be alone, and we were thankful. And from that day on, I knew that none of you kids would ever have to be alone on Christmas. There would always be a place at Nan's table for each and every one of you who had graced my doorstep over the years. And there always has been."
A tear fell from my cheek onto the table, and I looked up to see Nan's eyes filled with tears, as well. I smiled at her, and she shrugged sheepishly. "Thank you for listening to an old woman's ramblings. Anyway, my point was, heck, I can't even remember now. Christmas is important, I'm glad you're here, and spanking can do a hurting heart some good. This ranch was literally founded on that point alone. So don't think you need to keep it from me if my boys have picked up a thing or two from their Nan. I'd be disappointed if they hadn't."
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," I stammered, knowing I was busted but not knowing what to do about it.
"Whatever you say, dear. I may be old and out of practice, but I recognize the unmistakable crack of a belt on a bare butt when I hear it. Seems to me like my boys didn't care much for the way you ran off all those years ago. I wonder what the story is there, hmm?"
I couldn't see my face, but I was sure the entirety of it was bright purple.
"I…um…you're not mad?"
"Me? Mad? At what, three grown ass adults engaging in what I can only assume is consensual adult activities? It damn well better be consensual, because I know I taught the three of you better than that."
"Yes, Nan. You did. It's all consensual. Promise."
"Well, then, the only way I could ever be mad is if they hurt you or you hurt them. But that's already happened, hasn't it? And that's what last night was about, I assume? Healing and moving on."
Damn, she was good. I had forgotten how shrewdly intuitive she had always been. "That's what they say," I muttered.
"Well, did it help?" Nan questioned, peering at me in that knowing way she had.
"Too soon to say," I answered honestly.
My honesty seemed to tickle her, as she threw back her head and let out a hearty laugh. "Fair enough, then. Let's get started on those cookies, shall we?"
