Sweet Nothings

by Catherine Anderson

  That sounded reasonable. “Are you sure it’s safe to leave me then? I’m a master at stupidity.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll only be gone a couple of minutes. Just continue as you are, Molly. Pet him, talk to him. That’s the best medicine for what ails him right now, what he needs the very most.”

  “What do I say?”

  Jake hesitated before replying. “What would you want someone to say to you?”

  Keeping her voice pitched low so as not to be overheard, Molly spent the next few minutes speaking from her heart to Sunset, saying all the things she felt he needed to hear because she needed to hear them herself.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered. “You gave him all you had and tried your hardest. That was never enough for him. He just kept pressing you for more, and then for more, pitting you against older, faster horses, wanting the fatter purse. It was never your fault, Sunset.”

  Sunset whinnied softly and thrust his nose in Molly’s armpit. She stiffened, uncertain what to do, but when the horse only stood there, keeping his muzzle pressed against her, she realized he was only frightened and wanted to be as close to her as possible. A dog might have crawled on her lap. Being too large for that, Sunset sought comfort in the only way he could, by surrounding himself with her smell.

  Taking care not to hurt him, she rested her other arm over the crest of his neck and pressed her cheek to his forehead. “Oh, Sunset, life is so unfair. I wish I could have stopped this. If only I had known, I would have stolen you sooner.”

  Jake returned with the medication just then. He waited with it at the opposite side of the fence, hesitant to enter for fear he might frighten the horse. “This stuff doesn’t sting, and it has anesthetic properties to ease his discomfort,” he said as she came to the fence for the bottle. “All you do is soak the cotton balls with it, then gently swab the lacerations, cleaning them as thoroughly as you can. Afterward you can apply salve, which will keep dirt out of the cuts and help them heal.”

  Molly nodded. Jake held her gaze, his dark face creasing in a smile. “You’re doing great so far,” he told her warmly.

  “I’m not so scared now.” She blinked and glanced quickly away. “Oh, Jake, he’s so—broken. I remember how proud he used to look whenever I saw him, and now he’s so broken.”

  “Nothing is irreversible,” he assured her.

  “I pray you’re right. It would be such a shame if he never got over it.”

  “He will. If you love him enough, he will.”

  Molly met his gaze again, no longer caring if he saw the tears in her eyes.

  “The pride is still there in him,” he said. “That’s why this has been so hard on him, because he’s got pride and an inner strength that Rodney couldn’t beat out of him. You know that saying, ‘The bigger they are, the harder they fall.’ Sunset took a painful tumble, Molly, but he’s got it in him to get back up.”

  “I don’t know,” Molly said, remembering how the stallion had thrust his nose under her arm. “I really don’t know if he has that kind of strength left.”

  Jake gazed solemnly at the horse. When at last he spoke, his voice had gone thick. “You have to believe in him, honey. Right now, he’s so lost, and his world has been turned topsy-turvy. You have to help him believe in himself again.” His mouth tipped into a sad smile. “You’re his mirror. How you see him is how he’ll eventually come to see himself. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  A lump came to Molly’s throat. “That we see ourselves as others do?”

  He reached through the fence to cup her cheek. After regarding each of her features as if to commit them to memory, he said, “Exactly. We see ourselves as others do.”

  When he turned and walked away, Molly gazed after him, unable to shake the feeling that he’d been referring to far more than just the horse.

  We see ourselves as others do. Over the next two hours, as Molly worked with Sunset, those words circled endlessly in her mind.

  Arms resting on a fence rail, Jake listened to Molly reassure the horse. In the not so distant past, she’d questioned her ability to be Sunset’s mistress, claiming that her feelings for the stallion ran closer to pity than to love.

  That wasn’t what he heard now. Every word, every inflection of her voice, rang deep with caring. Jake relaxed slightly, confident that he’d done the right thing. He could easily have hooked on with Sunset himself, but when he’d felt Molly watching him, he’d started pulling back. She needed this, maybe even more than Sunset did. As she talked to the horse, she was talking to herself as well, whether she realized it or not.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Sunset. Never yours.”

  Nor had it ever been Molly’s fault. Jake was absolutely sure of that.

  “He’s a vicious, cruel monster for doing this to you.”

  Rodney had been just as cruel to Molly, and it was only a matter of time before she began to realize it.

  “He made you lose faith in yourself.”

  Molly’s faith in herself had been destroyed as well.

  “You’re so beautiful, Sunset. So very, very beautiful.”

  Jake looked at Molly and thought how very beautiful she was. The sassy haircut and new clothes had transformed her. More important, he had completely lost his heart to the person she was within. All his life he’d been told that beauty was only skin deep, but he’d never really understood what that meant until now. He was going to love this woman forever, not just while she was young and pretty but when she grew old. Fifty years from now, when he looked at her, he would love every gray hair on her head and every wrinkle on her sweet face.

  We see ourselves as others do.

  Now that she’d said the words, how long would it be before the truth of them was driven home? How long would it be before she looked in the mirror and saw herself instead of the distorted image that Rodney had created in her mind?

  Sweet, beautiful Molly, who believed she was plain.

  Sweet, beautiful Molly, who constantly dieted in a futile attempt to alter the glorious figure that nature had bestowed on her.

  Sweet, beautiful Molly, who looked but couldn’t see.

  “I’ll never forgive him for what he’s done to you,” she whispered to the horse.

  Jake heard the words and closed his eyes, thinking that he, too, would never forgive. He didn’t know exactly what Rodney had done to her, but the results had been devastating, and, like the horse, she had a very long journey still ahead of her to reach wellness.

  It was Jake’s hope that woman and horse would make the journey together.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Molly dreamed that night of Sarah and her father. Their faces haunted her in slumber as she never allowed them to during the day. “Molly, help us!” they cried, imploring her, reaching out to her.

  Molly met with countless obstacles as she struggled to reach them. The world went dark with shifting shadows that drifted like sooty smoke, the tendrils seeming almost alive as they curled around her. She didn’t know where she was, and nothing looked familiar.

  She came to a deep, yawning chasm spanned by a rickety footbridge. When she looked across the fissure, she saw Sarah and her father standing on the other side, both of them reaching out to her. Molly called out that she was coming and hurried onto the bridge. Running, running … No matter how she tried, she seemed to get nowhere. With growing terror, she saw that the footbridge was becoming narrower and narrower until she was balanced on a quivering strip of wood little wider than a ruler. Afraid of falling, she turned back to find another way across, only the bridge behind her had vanished.

  She fell then, head over heels and endlessly, plunging ever downward, the echoes of Sarah’s and her father’s screams becoming so faint they were barely whispers in her mind. When she hit bottom, she sank into a fathomless blackness as thick as crude oil. Drowning in it and frantic to breathe, she struggled upward. When at last she broke the surface, she treaded in place, searching the edge of the chasm for her father a
nd friend.

  Finally she spotted them, arms thrown wide as they pleaded with her to save them. When she tried to swim, the thick coldness nearly sucked her under. She pressed onward, gasping for air, her heart slamming. I’m coming, she thought. I hear you this time, and I’m coming.

  One minute it seemed to be Sarah’s voice calling to her, the next her father’s. Molly struggled onward, frantic to reach them. She couldn’t let them die. Not this time. She wouldn’t fail them again.

  At last she saw Sarah just ahead. Her friend seemed to be standing under a spotlight, its harsh brilliance illuminating every detail of her person. Dressed in an oversized nightshirt, she looked frightened and confused, much as she had in the days before her death. In her right hand, she held a razor blade. “Help me,” she cried, and then with a sob, she slashed her wrists.

  “No!” Molly screamed. “Please, no! Wait for me, Sarah. I’m almost there! Don’t, please, don’t!”

  Only it was too late. Sarah sank to her knees, crimson splashing over her white nightshirt and down her legs. Horrified, Molly realized the black slime all around her had turned to blood. Sarah began to scream, long, high-pitched cries of agony—and still Molly couldn’t reach her. Not again. It couldn’t happen like this again.

  Molly jerked awake.

  For a frozen instant, she stared blankly upward, her body rigid. Then she sat bolt upright in bed, her skin beaded with sweat, her legs tangled in the sheets. She covered her face with her hands, unable to get the screams out of her head. Shrill and piercing, they seemed so real.

  Molly dropped her hands to listen, her horror growing as she realized the screaming wasn’t part of a dream. She leaped from the bed and dashed to the open window. Flickering orange light played over the upper panes of glass. Grabbing the sill, Molly thrust her head out the opening and looked through the trees. Fire. The stable. Oh, dear God, the stable.

  She never gave a thought to a robe as she raced from the bedroom. Once at the front door, she stumbled to a stop, bewildered to find it standing ajar. She would have sworn she locked it before going to bed.

  The screams jerked the thought from her mind. The horses. All those poor horses. Was Jake already out there? Did he even realize that the stable was on fire?

  Light from the flames reached into the darkness, enabling Molly to see. As she ran, she barely felt the pricks and jabs to the bottoms of her feet. She thought of White Star’s brand new baby, then of the mare herself and all the other horses. What a horrible way to die, trapped in a raging inferno. If Jake wasn’t already awake, she had to raise an alarm.

  When Molly drew near the burning building, she heard shouts and saw the dark silhouettes of men rushing about, some manning water hoses, others trying to calm the panicked animals they’d led from the building. The commotion was confusing. Horses shrieked and fought their leads, trying desperately to escape both the men and the fire. She saw Shorty and Tex struggling to free a hose from beneath the animals’ churning hooves. Then she spotted Hank and Bill, tending to White Star’s new foal, which looked more frightened than hurt.

  Relieved not to be the first person on the scene, Molly ran to check on Sunset. The stallion stood at the far end of his pen, rump pressed to the rails, his attention riveted to the flames. When he saw Molly, he grunted nervously and swung his head. She skirted the corral and reached through the rails to pet him.

  “It’s okay, boy. You’re safe here.”

  Almost as if he understood, the stallion nodded his massive head and pawed the dirt.

  Convinced Sunset would be fine, Molly left him to go find Jake. Later she never knew how she managed to pick him out of the melee, but she spotted him almost instantly. Wielding a flashlight, he was moving from horse to horse, checking them for injuries. As Molly drew closer, she glanced at the burning stable, thinking that Jake’s time might be better spent trying to help put out the blaze. A few of his hired hands were trying, but it looked as if they were losing the battle.

  “Are all the horses okay?” she asked as she reached him.

  He glanced up, then snaked out a hand to grab her wrist and draw her to his side. “Never do that, Molly! You’ll get the shit kicked out of you.”

  Molly realized she’d run up behind the gelding. The long fingers of flickering amber that played over them suddenly flared more brightly, followed by a crashing sound and a burst of fiery orange against the night sky. Molly jumped with a start. The gelding wheeled and whinnied, panicked by the blast of heat.

  Still holding Molly’s wrist, Jake sprang erect and shoved hard against the animal’s rump to keep it from side-stepping onto her feet. Glancing past his shoulder, she saw that the stable roof had just caved in.

  “Oh, God,” she cried, raising her voice to be heard over the din. “The stable, Jake. How did this start? Are all the horses out?”

  “The horses are all fine.” He jerked her hard against him, releasing her hand to slip an arm around her. “Damn, Molly, what are you doing out here half dressed and barefoot?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he thrust the flashlight under his belt and shouldered his way through the milling horses and men, protecting her with his bulk as he drew her along. Only at the edge of the stable yard did he allow her to escape his embrace.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” he asked sharply. “You don’t come around panicked horses without shoes. Do you have any idea the damage their hooves can do?”

  Molly hugged her waist, suddenly and acutely aware that she wore only an oversized T-shirt and a pair of white lace panties. Jake skimmed her with a glittering gaze, his attention lingering for a split second on her bare legs. “Go get some clothes on,” he bit out.

  She retreated a step. “I’m sorry. I just—” She broke off, the words to explain eluding her. “I wasn’t sure if you knew. About the fire, I mean. So I just ran out here without thinking.”

  She turned to walk away. She took only two steps before he checked her flight with a steely hand on her shoulder.

  “Molly.”

  Just that. Molly. Yet the way he said her name told her everything. She stopped to look back at him. In the play of firelight, she could see streaks of soot on his face. For the first time since she’d known him, his broad shoulders were slumped. He looked so defeated.

  “I’m sorry,” he ground out. Still grasping her shoulder, he glanced back toward the fire. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

  A horse screamed, and his grip on her shoulder tightened. Molly reached up to pry his fingers away. “Go, Jake. They need you, and I’m fine.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I was just afraid you’d get hurt, and I—” He broke off and swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

  Molly managed a smile. “I’ll get dressed and come back.”

  He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Stay away from the horses until they’ve calmed down. I’ve lost enough for one night.”

  Molly gazed after him, admiring the easy, sure strength of his movements as he broke into a run. When he reached the horses, he slipped the flashlight from his belt and resumed his task of checking them for burns.

  Molly stood there for a time, observing him. He seemed totally focused on the animals. The shouts of the men fighting the fire didn’t seem to penetrate his consciousness. When more timbers inside the burning building collapsed, he barely glanced in that direction, more concerned with the welfare of the horses than with the loss of his property. Seeing that tugged at Molly’s heart. She had already come to admire Jake Coulter, but never more so than now.

  The collapse of the timbers spooked a mare that had been tethered to an outside front corner of Sunset’s pen. She reared and fought the rope, her front hooves slashing wildly at the fence rails. Jake hurried over to grab her halter.

  “Whoa, whoa,” Molly heard him say. Using his strength and weight, he hauled down hard on the frantic horse’s head to prevent her from rearing again. She whinnied and trembled, sidestepping nervously. Jake ran a hand ov
er her withers and leaned close to whisper something. The mare made plaintive grunting sounds, but she quieted under his touch. Jake untied her rope and led her to the opposite end of the corral where she would be away from the fire.

  Molly smiled, remembering how he had denied being a horse whisperer. Far be it from her to argue the point, but she could testify to one thing. He had a way about him that soothed horses and gained their trust.

  Her smile deepened. He had a way with women as well.

  A few minutes later, as Molly ascended the porch steps to the cabin, she recalled the front door being ajar when she first woke up. Strange. She could have sworn she’d locked it before going to bed.

  Feeling a need to hurry, she didn’t allow herself to wonder about it. She wanted to get dressed as quickly as possible and return to the stable. She might be a total loss when it came to helping with the horses, but there were surely other things she could do.

  She flipped on the overhead light as she stepped into the bedroom. Halfway across the room, she lurched to a stop, her gaze riveted to her rumpled bed. The white sheets were smeared with dirt and peppered with pine needles. Bewildered, Molly stepped closer for a better look. Her heart flipped and fluttered. She picked up a pine needle and stared stupidly at it. How on earth had debris gotten on her sheets? They’d been clean when she went to bed.

  Feeling numb, she sank onto the edge of the mattress. A cold feeling washed over her. The pine needle slipped from her fingers and drifted to the floor. Once again, she recalled finding the front door ajar when she first woke up, a door she felt sure she had locked before going to bed.

  Oh, God. Had she been sleepwalking?

  The mere thought made Molly’s stomach drop. Though she tried never to think of those days, she did have a history of somnambulism.

  She turned to stare at the sheets. Then she looked down at her feet. They were filthy from running outdoors barefoot. If she climbed back into bed right now, she would rub dirt off on the linen, leaving smears much like the ones already there.