Calmly, Carefully, Completely

Calmly, Carefully, Completely by Tammy Falkner



For Diane, because she read 1001 different versions of this book and never once complained (where I could hear her).

With special thanks to Kayla Gardner who let me borrow her horses and then helped me give them life.


All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.


This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.





Pete



Nobody f*cks with you in prison when you’re all tatted up.

Not a single, solitary soul.

It could have something to do with being big, too. I haven’t asked. I’ve just enjoyed it.

At home, it’s a completely different story. At home, everyone f*cks with me. I am the youngest of five, all brothers. They’re all as big as me, if not bigger, and they have even more tats than I do. You don’t get any points for being adorable. At my house, all you get points for is being a good person, contributing to the household, and supporting your family in every way possible.

It’s too bad I sucked at all the requirements. I f*cked things up royally two years ago.

I never should have done what I did. But I did it, and I did my time behind bars. I just hope that they can forgive me at home and not hold it over my head.

A hand clapped onto my shoulder jerks me from my internal dialogue. I look up and see my pro bono attorney, Mr. Caster. “Good to see you again, son,” he says as he sits down across from me. He opens a file folder in front of him.

“Why are you here?” I blurt out. I wince immediately, realizing how rude that sounded. But his brow just arches as he shakes his head. “I mean, it’s good to see you, sir.”

He chuckles. “Nice to see you, too, Pete,” he says. He takes a brochure from the folder and turns it so I can read it. “I have an opportunity for you.”

My oldest brother, Paul, says opportunities are other people’s problems. “What kind of opportunity?” I ask hesitantly. I open the brochure. There are pictures of horses and children and climbing structures and a pool with lots of splashing going on. I look up at him.

“This is a brochure for Cast-A-Way Farms,” he says.

“And?” I ask.

“The opportunity,” he says. “I talked to the judge and told him you would be good for this program.” He raises his brow again. “I hope I’m not wrong.”

I hate to sound like a numbskull, but… “Not following, Mr. Caster.”

“I need a few good young men to help out at the Cast-A-Way camp for five days this summer.” He starts to reload his folder and closes it. “I read your file. I liked what I saw. I think you have potential. And you have the skill set that I need for this particular camp.”

Skill set? All I can do is ink people. I work at my brothers’ tattoo shop when I’m not behind bars. I don’t know how to do much else. “You want me to tattoo them?”

He chuckles again. “I need your signing ability,” he admits. “We have a camp every year for special needs kids. We have a very special boy this year who has MS, so he has a tracheostomy tube. He can’t speak. He signs. His mother’s going, but she can’t be with him 24-7. So, I thought you might be able to come and help.” He shrugs. “There will also be a small group of boys there who are hearing impaired. You might work with them some, too.”