Family Love

by Liz Crowe

  Kathy finished the can and dropped down next to her, hooking her arm through Lindsay’s. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “Why? I’m not dying. I’m not even moving away.”

  “I know. But I’ll be up at college and …”

  Lindsay sat up fast, which was a mistake, since it sent her reeling. Clamping down on the sudden urge to throw up, she hugged her dress down tight over her knees and stared at her red-painted toenails.

  “Please don’t remind me,” she muttered into her linen dress. It may have been crisp and sharp a few hours ago, but it sure was wrinkly and disgusting now, complete with a strawberry jam-looking stain on the hem.

  Her father had allowed her to attend classes at the University of Kentucky, but only as a commuter. Nice girls didn’t live in dorms, he’d claimed more than once.

  Kathy sat beside her in silence. Lindsay held out her fingers. Her friend gave her a lit cigarette. She took a huge puff and exhaled, loving the taste of freedom it represented, if only for a short while.

  Her mother and friends all smoked like chimneys. After a card party or luncheon, the house had to be aired out from the gray fog filling every room. Mama was a hypocrite about it, too, pitching the biggest old hissy fit when she found an empty pack in Lindsay’s undergarment drawer, and making random and seldom-fulfilled threats.

  Lindsay kept her smokes in the car since then, or lifted them from her brothers’ stash when their parents weren’t looking.

  “I guess what I want doesn’t matter,” Lindsay said, flicking a spent butt across the expanse of green.

  Kathy blew out a breath, got up, fished the butt out of the grass then tossed it into a beat up garbage can. “Don’t litter.”

  “Whatever,” Lindsay said, looking away from her friend. She was heartsick jealous over Kathy’s return to school, where she would be a real student, living in a dorm with a roommate and everything. A familiar restlessness stole over Lindsay, forcing her to her feet. She nearly toppled over, but a laughing Kathy righted her. “Let’s ride,” she said, grabbing the blanket and tossing it into the backseat.

  Her friend smiled and climbed in on the passenger’s side. Lindsay let the hot summer wind dry her angry tears. The barns bustled with activity, as usual. The leased-out buildings were especially busy. People—strangers—were always coming and going, checking in, riding, or cleaning up their horses, eager to hang out in the once proud paddocks of the Halloran Horse Farm, turned horse storage. Lindsay parked and ran for the main barn, her heart pounding in anticipation of a mind-clearing ride—to where, she had no idea and cared even less.

  “I’m not gonna,” Kathy declared from the open barn door. “I’m not dressed for it, and I should get home.”

  Lindsay barely heard her, so intent was she on escape. Her skin crawled with a sort of urgency she didn’t want to examine too closely. “Okay, see ya ‘round,” she called over her shoulder, heading for Zelda’s stall, grinning at the sound of the animal’s neighing and stomping as soon as she sensed her mistress’s arrival.

  “You’re going out dressed that way?”

  Lindsay stopped at the sound of the deep, gravelly voice, irritation creeping up her spine. She turned and took in the compact form of the assistant barn manager, Tony. He had a stalk of hay in his teeth, and his Halloran-labeled blue work shirt was unbuttoned in an inappropriate—and wholly distracting—way. She blinked fast, taking in the scattering of dark hair on his firm-looking chest and the line of it below his belly button.

  He frowned and spit the hay out while buttoning up, his olive skin reddening. She smiled, savoring the moment and his discomfort more than she probably should. He pushed his sweaty cowboy hat up and headed for Zelda’s stall. “I’ll get her out for you, miss.”

  Lindsay watched him unhook the half door and heard him mutter under his breath to the overexcited horse. Zelda calmed immediately, which seemed odd, since Lindsay was usually the only human she obeyed or even listened to. Tony stroked her horse’s long, dark neck, making the animal’s muscles quiver in a way that forced Lindsay to take a step away and put a shaking hand to her throat. Plus, the man was as much a vision from the rear view as the front. She shook her head.

  “Stop it,” she muttered to herself. “There is nothing more annoying than a cliché. You’re the farmer’s daughter, and he’s the sexy, low-class stable hand. Do not go there.” But she bit her lip, noting the way he passed his large palm down the horse’s withers, and already feeling the heat of his touch on her skin instead.

  “Just give her to me, damn it,” she said, her voice hoarse, surprising herself. Tony turned, his angular, handsome face an open book—one she was shocked to find herself reading, and enjoying.

  “Hurry up. I don’t have all day.”

  He put Zelda’s reins in her outstretched palm. “As I asked before,” he said, his low, slow, growly, Kentucky drawl making Lindsay uncomfortable in places she didn’t think were polite to mention, even to herself. “You’re going out dressed in that?” He took her in a little too boldly, eyes moving from toes to stocking-clad legs to wrinkled summer dress, up to her flushed face.

  She frowned, but was secretly glad he’d given her a way out of this awkward moment. “No, actually. I’m not.”

  She dropped Zelda’s reins, reached up under her skirt and unhooked her stockings, rolling them down and tossing them aside as if she was in her bedroom, where one of the cleaning girls would gather them up, hand wash them, and return them to her dresser drawer. She never took her eyes off Tony’s.

  He blinked fast, stumbled, then turned from her, hurrying away, but not before she’d taken off both silky hose and was hiking up her skirt to unfasten the garter belt. She took it off while watching him hurry down the center of the huge barn, holding on to his hat, while she experienced the first of many times she’d regret her impulsive behavior with him, yet loving every minute of it.

  Shaking off the compulsion to run after him and apologize, she saddled Zelda, put on a pair of riding boots she found in the tack room, and mounted, relishing the warm strength and power of the animal beneath her. Not to mention the pleasant, familiar pressure between her legs in the astride position.

  Grinning to herself, she trotted out past Tony, who was occupied with a few of the boarders and their demands. Once she was over the hill and out of sight, she dug her heels in, and the two of them took off like they’d been shot out of a cannon.

  Chapter Three

  That night, after tolerating supper with her half-drunk father, all-the-way-drunk mother, and surly brothers, Lindsay filled the claw-foot tub with bubbles and hot water and eased into it. She winced at various aches in her arms and shoulders from the week’s hard work with Daisy, her other horse, a much older and sweeter dressage prizewinner who’d won even more ribbons than Zelda.

  She sighed when her tight muscles finally relaxed.

  But instead of relaxing her the way it normally did, the heat made her sweaty. Her skin felt irritated and itchy, and her thighs kept twitching from the long ride. Letting her fingers roam down her breasts and stomach, she allowed that when she touched herself between her legs—something she’d been doing for a few weeks now—the nice, shivery feeling it gave her did finally bring on the sort of relaxation she sought.

  I am some kind of sick slut, she thought, floating and drifting until the water cooled and she had to get out. Sitting at her vanity table in nightgown and robe, she brushed her long, auburn hair, not even seeing the many blue rosettes she and her horses had won adorning the mirror. All she could see, or at least picture in her mind, was Tony and his deep brown eyes, watching her bare legs.

  He had the fullest lips she’d ever seen, surrounded as she was by the British Isle types—red hair, fair skin, freckles, small noses, and thin, utilitarian lips. Tony’s were lush, almost pillowy. The few times she’d seen him smile, his dazzling white teeth were the perfect complement to them.

  She touched her own lips, wondering how he tasted. She’d kissed
a few boys, and had experienced mostly combinations of tobacco, minty toothpaste, and beer. The memory of Will shoving his tongue into her mouth after one of her mother’s dreary dinner parties made her frown.

  She jumped up, angry all over again, and restless, wishing she could go to the barn. Parting the sheers between the heavy velvet drapes, she dropped into her window seat, drawing her knees up and staring down into the world she loved. The world where horses got all the attention, care, and love they needed.

  The lamps were lit, and a small fire danced in the pit near the building where Tony, his brother, and the stable boys slept. She pressed her nose to the window, wanting to catch sight of him. When he did emerge from the main barn, he had that dumb straw in his mouth again. He was laughing at something his brother must have said. The two men were dragging along metal chairs from inside their makeshift dormitory, and bottles of beer. They sat, clinked, then drank.

  Lindsay put her palm on the cool glass, watching them, knowing that even if they did look up they wouldn’t see her. Tony’s legs were sprawled out, one boot-clad foot up on the edge of the fire pit.

  Lindsay found her gaze fixated on his zipper, wondering, and then flushing red at her own sick thoughts. For a split second, his eyes seemed to meet hers, but she shrank into the shadows of her second floor room, reminding herself there was no way he could see her. His eyes narrowed, and he put the beer bottle to those tempting, full lips, keeping his face turned up in the direction of her bedroom.

  She cursed and jumped away from the window, yanking the heavy drapes closed. Gripping them tight, she hung on for dear life, pulse racing so fast it scared her. A knock at her door made her yelp in surprise.

  “Come on in,” she said, hurrying to her vanity to resume the required hundred brush strokes. When she realized it was only Frank, she set the brush down. “What d’you want?”

  He put a finger to his lips and held up two cigarettes. She pointed to her window seat. He nodded and cranked open one side of the casement before lighting up and giving her one. She sucked in the first lungful, relishing it, then blew it out the window.

  “Thanks,” she said, smiling when Frank tugged her feet onto his lap.

  “Daddy’s passed out on the recliner. Mama’s in the kitchen smoking and drinking and plotting world domination. JR’s on a date. I’m bored. So, how was dress shopping the other day?”

  “Speaking of bored?” She rolled her eyes. “About as awful as you might imagine, complete with the Scott family women.”

  Frank nodded and blew smoke out the window. “Those twins. They hit every dang branch fallin’ outta the ugly tree.”

  “And his mama kept staring at my belly, as if I should be making an announcement already. Ugh.” Lindsay shivered when a brief memory of Will’s leering, sneering face passed through her mind.

  “I’m sorry, sis,” he said. “It’s the only way Daddy can figure out to save this place.” He waved an arm indicating her gigantic bedroom with its expensive canopied bed and heavy furniture. “The Scotts are the only ones doing well, thanks to that Derby horse a few years ago.”

  Lindsay sighed and let the tobacco and nicotine combination ease her stress. “Oh, I’ll be fine. Will’s okay. At least he’s not a stranger. I’ve known him my whole life.”

  “He’s a cocky asshole, and if he hurts you, all you gotta do is come home, find me and JR, and tell us. We’ll remind him of his raising. Don’t you worry about that.”

  She stared down at the fire pit, noting that the Love brothers had been joined by a couple of stable boys and a very attractive woman who, at that moment, was perched on Tony’s lap. Lindsay frowned and leaned almost all the way outside to see better. The woman was giggling and drinking a beer. Tony’s hand rested on her thigh. Way up her thigh.

  To Lindsay’s horror, the woman leaned down and planted a kiss right on Tony’s lips, and for a damn long time. When Lorenzo tugged the woman to her feet, then danced around the fire with her, Lindsay watched Tony watching them. Their laughter floated up to her.

  “Hey.” Frank bumped her shoulder.

  “Ow,” she said, noting she’d smoked her cigarette to the butt without realizing it. “Here, take this out of here. Mama almost had kittens when she found that empty pack in my panty drawer.”

  He looked out to see what she’d been watching, taking in the girl, the dancing Lorenzo, the music, the clapping and laughing group. “Huh, wonder if Daddy knows those boys brought in a whore.”

  “A what?” Lindsay’s heartbeat picked up even faster.

  He gave her an arch look. “I think I should get down there and inspect this little party.” He got up, palming their cigarette butts. “I’ve got a twenty. That should buy me a quickie.”

  “Francis Halloran,” Lindsay said, shocked, but titillated beyond imagining. “You’ll catch a disease.” She’d heard this somewhere, but wasn’t quite sure how it worked.

  “Nope,” he said, tugging a small packet from his pocket and holding it up for her to see. She read “Sheik,” and “reservoir end,” and “prophylactic,” on a small package. Curious, she snatched and opened it, unrolling the thing and noting its slimy texture. Once it was fully unraveled she held it up in front of her face.

  “Wow. So you put this on … on your …”

  “Yep. No kids. No dripping diseases.”

  She blushed and gave it to him. He wadded it up. “Good thing JR got us a multi-pack.”

  “You boys are awful,” she said, pulling her knees up again and staring out at the party that had gotten quieter since the girl and Lorenzo disappeared.

  “Whoops, better hurry. Don’t wanna miss my turn.” He winked at her and headed for her door, leaving Lindsay to her fevered imaginings, still staring down at Tony, who’d not moved from his position, staring into the dwindling fire.

  Lindsay tugged the curtain closed again once Frank joined the party. She brushed her teeth and scrubbed her face, her skin never once losing that tingling, anticipatory, creeping sensation.

  Deciding she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a book, she turned out the light and fell to sleep almost immediately. Later she woke up sweating, with the sheets twisted around and between her legs, panting with the fully recalled dream of Tony’s lips, hands, arms, legs, and body—his deep olive skin alongside her paler limbs, all tangled up together.

  Chapter Four

  Her engagement party wasn’t until five, so Lindsay took advantage of waking up early to fit in a ride—and an excuse to hang around the barns, hoping to find Tony there. She carried a slice of toast and mug of coffee across the still dew-covered grass, mind shutting out the remainder of the day’s festivities.

  Her dress hung in the closet, freshly ironed. Clean stockings were tucked in her drawer. She even had a pretty new pair of red patent leather pumps for the occasion. But she honestly felt that if she ignored it or pretended it was not going to happen long enough, the event would somehow not manifest itself.

  Dumb, she knew. There was no way to ignore the fact that in a few days she’d be Mrs. William Scott, available to him whenever and however he wanted her. She shivered, recalling her intensely strange dream a few hours earlier, starring the assistant stable manager. They’d been in a field. There was a horse somewhere nearby, off in the dreamy distance. They were sitting, facing each other, glaring, not speaking. He held a beer bottle. She had a burning cigarette between her fingers. Then she’d blinked, and opened her eyes to the familiar contours of her bedroom.

  With a sigh, she dropped onto a hay bale, mind and gut churning, thinking maybe she’d saddle Zelda and take off, never to return.

  She sipped the coffee, getting more aggravated with herself every second. Why couldn’t she say no to this whole stupid farce? She didn’t love Will Scott. He only wanted to do … whatever it was … to her. The thing she thought she understood well enough to be afraid and intrigued and disgusted all at the same time.

  They’d be miserable, guaranteed. Arguing in front of the kids, drin
king too much, complaining to their friends all the time. The only real difference between her parents’ current and her future marriage? There’d be plenty of money. She sighed and glanced idly at the stalls, the bales of hay, the rafters, the tack room … soaking in all the familiar sights and smells and sounds of her favorite place, and wondered how in the world her father’s business had fallen off so badly that she ended up in the position of being sold off to the highest bidder.

  She tossed the remains of the coffee, which was already turning to acid in her stomach. Deciding to sit quietly and listen to the horses a bit longer, she wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her cheek on them. Slow tears burned their way down her face.

  She must have drifted to sleep, because she woke with a jolt when someone, or something, touched her face.

  “Oh, shoot,” she muttered, wiping drool off her chin. Peering into the still-dim early morning light, she sensed him nearby.

  “Back for another peep show?” she demanded, hating herself for being so mean.

  “No, miss. Just wanted you to wake up before you fell off the hay bale.”

  “Hmph …” She stood and made a show of smoothing down her riding habit and adjusting her boots. Her face felt hot enough to set the whole place on fire.

  “Don’t stare at me. It’s rude.” Her eyes adjusted enough so she could see him, dressed in his usual work shirt and jeans, one scuffed bootheel propped on the barn wall while he sipped his cup of coffee and eyeballed her.

  He lifted a dark eyebrow, then trained his gaze out into the barn, per her instructions.

  Lindsay ground her teeth.

  “Will you be needing the practice track set up?”

  “What? Oh, um, yes. Please.” She chewed her bottom lip and flopped onto the bale.