by Liz Crowe
Chapter Six
The sun pierced her eyes, making Lindsay groan and roll over. But the pounding in her head seemed to suffuse every corner of her existence. There was no escaping it. She tried dragging a pillow over her head, but the pillow weighed too much. The whole world hurt. Her hair hurt. Even her toenails ached. Her mouth seemed stuffed full of cotton, or maybe hay. A knock at her door was followed by a creak when she didn’t answer.
“Good morning sunshine!” her brother JR boomed. “Up and at ‘em!” He yanked her covers off and threw open the curtains, flooding her room with light that went straight to her brain in a shaft of agony and yet more nausea.
She jumped up and ran for her bathroom, but after a few minutes figured she’d probably already thrown up enough of her guts to last her a while, so she rinsed out her mouth and tried to brush her teeth, but that hurt too much. So she grabbed a robe and wrapped up in it before returning to find her other brother sitting and sipping coffee while JR stood staring out one of her tall windows.
“What do you two want?” She wiped a shaking hand down her face. “Never mind. I don’t care. Go away. Leave me to die in peace.” She tried to crawl under the covers.
“You have caused quite the ruckus this morning, little miss thing,” Frank said, his voice flat.
“Whatever,” she said.
“No, seriously. Mama is spitting mad and trying to get Daddy to fire those Italians.”
Lindsay sat up, heart pounding. JR dropped into the window seat. Both of her brothers glared at her. “What are you up to with them, Lindsay?”
“Up to? What are you talking about?”
“Well, that younger one, Tony, he carried you into the house after midnight last night, apparently. Mama screamed to wake the dead, at least that’s what we heard. We weren’t home, and neither was Daddy, so we have no idea what condition you were in.”
“I was in a drunk condition, is all,” she said, shrinking into her pillow and biting her lip.
“Huh, well our mother claims that goombah had …” He cleared his throat and shook his head. “… interfered with you while you were passed out in the car.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Lindsay said. But her voice was small as she wracked her memory for anything that might resemble an “interference” from Anton Love.
“Daddy isn’t gonna fire them, I don’t think. They’re damn good at their jobs.”
She glared at them both. “You just like them ’cause they bring girls over at night so you can … can … interfere with them …” She stopped, furious with herself for not knowing what, exactly, they did.
“Never you mind that,” JR declared, getting up and stretching. “I do like ‘em. But you know how Mama gets, and she is on one blessed tear right now. You need to get up, get dressed, and tell her to calm down.”
“I know you’re sweet on him, Linds,” her younger brother said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “But you need to watch yourself.” He got up and joined JR at the door. “Now get on up and tell Mama you are free from interference. I’m sick of hearing about it, and the more she goes on, Daddy might give in just to shut her up.”
She winced when they gave her door a good slam on their way out. Groaning, she flopped onto the pillows, staring up the pink canopy, tears stinging her eyes. Figures that she’d be passed out drunk when Anton Love finally touched her—picked her up and carried her up the stairs like Rhett Butler carried Scarlett O’Hara. She stroked her hand down her front, shivering and imagining him fired and gone, thanks to her own idiotic behavior.
She got up and took a bath, brushed her teeth, and got dressed before sneaking down to the kitchen for aspirin and coffee. Nellie, their cook and all-around helper, was there, breaking up green beans at the table and humming to herself. She kept a pot of coffee on all day, per long-standing instructions. Lindsay was never more grateful for it. Nellie ignored her while she dropped some cream into her cup and swallowed a few tablets, hoping to halt the incessant throbbing in her head.
“Try some of that tomato juice, Miss Lindsay,” she said. But the thought of it made the nausea surge again. Lindsay shook her head and leaned against the large sink, cup cradled in her hands. “I was a mess yesterday, Nellie.”
“Yes, I heard somethin’ about that,” Nellie said with a smile.
“I didn’t do anything but drink too much. I just … don’t want to marry him.”
Nellie got up and dumped the bean ends and strings into the trash, then carried the pan to the sink and filled it with water. “We don’t always get to choose our futures, honey.”
Lindsay studied the woman who’d worked in her house for as long as Lindsay could remember. Her dark brown face was lined, her short hair graying, her eyes wise.
Guilt flooded Lindsay’s brain. She had zero business complaining to this woman, whose husband had left her high and dry with two kids and living in some nasty apartment in Lexington. Mama loved to tell that story, of how she’d single-handedly rescued her, and had paid her more than the going rate for house help ever since.
Lindsay knew Nellie held every single secret the Halloran family had ever thought about keeping. She opened her mouth to confide in her when her mother breezed in the side door, fresh from tennis, glowing with a light sheen of sweat. “I declare, it is hotter than Hades out there already. Nellie, is there any tea?”
“Yes ma’am,” the woman said, nudging Lindsay aside with her hip and reaching for a glass. “Go on outside,” she said under her breath. “Don’t let her see you just yet,” she whispered while Lindsay’s mother picked through the stack of mail on the dining room table.
Lindsay nodded and ducked outside, still holding the coffee mug. On reflex, she began walking toward the stable, noting that it was indeed very hot already. It did not help her headache in the slightest to be out here, trying to breathe the heavy, humid air. She could see the boarded horses out in the paddock, tails swishing flies, standing still under the shade trees that lined the fences.
Anton appeared at the second barn door opening, looking toward the animals, his cowboy hat on, a stalk of hay between his teeth.
Lindsay’s skin prickled. She cursed herself once more for putting him in danger of losing his job for no good reason. After a few minutes observing him from afar, noting a brief interaction with his brother, she squared her shoulders and marched down the hill. It was up to her to make this right, she knew. No reason to put it off. But first, she wanted to apologize to him.
As she was making her way down, keeping Anton’s now-slouched form in her line of sight, a car screeched to a halt close by. She stopped, realizing it had come from the front drive.
“Hey, you there!” Will’s voice hit her ears, making her heart beat faster. A door slammed, then another. “You, greaseball … yeah, I’m talkin’ to you.”
Lindsay whirled and saw her fiancé running across the side lawn, followed by his sidekick, Don. His face was flushed red, his hands curled into fists, as he barreled past her and skidded to a stop in front of Anton, who’d straightened slowly and pulled the hay out of his mouth.
“Will, stop it!” she shrieked when he hauled off and punched Anton in the face, then in the stomach.
Don grabbed Anton’s arms and pinned them behind him while Will wound up to hit him again. But Lindsay sped down the hill and jumped in between them, holding both hands out to stop him.
“Get out of my way, Red. This is between me and this goombah,” he growled at her. She didn’t move.
“You are acting like a full-on idiot, Will Scott. He didn’t do anything but get his shoes puked on.”
“You were too drunk to know what he did to you. Now move, or I’ll move you myself.”
Lindsay glared at him. They stood, frozen in their weird tableau for a few moments. A shout from the house made them all look up to see JR and Frank running down the hill. That made Will lower his fist fast, since it looked as if he was planning to punch her in the face.
“Let him go, Don,”
JR said. Don did as he was told. JR was a hothead, and had about thirty pounds of pure muscle on both Don and Will. “Beat it.” Don scurried away. Lindsay remained standing between Will and Anton, who’d been utterly silent through the whole thing.
“Back off my sister, William,” Frank said, easing himself between Lindsay and her intended. “If you know what’s good for you, that is.”
Will stepped away, wiping his sweaty face. Lindsay saw how much he was shaking and figured him to be as bad shape as she, thanks to too much booze the night before. She turned to face Anton with an apology on her lips but he just grabbed his hat from the dirt, shot her an inscrutable look, and disappeared into the barn.
“That, that … farm hand, he … took advantage of your sister and you’re gonna let him sneak off like a rat?” Will spit, and put his fists on his hips. His blond hair flopped down over his forehead, giving him that boyish look she remembered.
“Lindsay said he didn’t,” JR said, standing next to her. “I’m satisfied with that.”
“How could she even know?” Will pointed to her. “She was passed out drunk.”
Fury pounded along with her heartbeat. She took a step towards him. “I reckon I’d remember if he had, Will. Considering.”
He frowned at her then crossed his arms. “Those Eye-talians are a pack of sneaky liars. Your daddy needs to fire ‘em.”
“I reckon he’ll make up his own mind about that soon enough,” Frank said, standing next to his brother. “Go on home, Will. You reek of booze, among other things.”
Lindsay had caught a whiff of something—cheap perfume she finally realized—coming from Will’s flushed skin. He turned and stomped up to his car, hollering for Don, who scurried after him.
“I hate that son-of-a-bitch,” JR said mildly, draping an arm across her shoulders. She slumped against him, relieved that someone was on her side. “But, so help me baby sister, if you do anything with Tony Love, I’ll kill you my own self.” She jumped away from him and looked over at Frank, who was leaning against the fence. He nodded.
“Yeah, Linds. Best avoid him so as not to … tempt anything. Got it?”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “I hate you,” she said. “I hate this! All of this!” She realized she was screaming and heard Zelda neigh in response in the main barn, so she ran toward that sound, blinded by tears, miserable and intent on one thing—escape.
Chapter Seven
After an hour’s worth of riding, both horse and rider were out of breath. Lindsay slid to the ground at the edge of the Lucas River and led Zelda closer, encouraging her to splash into the shallow depths to cool off.
Zelda was revved up, she could tell. She kept nodding her huge head, as if she couldn’t come down off the adrenaline high from the too-fast, out-of-control way she’d been allowed to lead, with her young mistress merely bent over her neck, hands light on the reins, whispering in her ear.
“That’s it, girl.” Lindsay splashed water up onto the animal’s neck. “You knew what I needed, didn’t you?” She stroked along Zelda’s side, sensing the quivery muscles, the just-under-the-skin urgency to resume the chase to nowhere.
Swiping at her eyes, furious at herself for crying yet again over her stupid life, Lindsay leaned against her horse’s shoulder. Zelda snorted, nickered, then dipped her head down to drink from the slow-flowing water.
After they’d both cooled some, Lindsay’s tears had dried up, leaving her with nothing but a sense of emptiness she wondered if anything would ever fill. She loved her father. But his tendency to spoil her and run roughshod over her brothers had not gone unnoticed once she’d gotten old enough to understand its central unfairness. She adored both Frank and JR, but if pressed, she’d confess that JR was a little standoffish, probably a function of his role as the eldest, the Halloran heir. Heir to what, she had no idea, of course. To Will Scott’s money, now, she supposed. Unless and until she squeezed out a few brats.
She hated her mother. Honest to goodness could not stand the woman. She could barely remember a time when they’d gotten along, or agreed about anything. But Gloria Runyan Halloran worshiped her sons. That much had been obvious from the start. It was as if Lindsay had been an afterthought, even an “oops,” although her Daddy claimed he had not lived until he watched her as a toddler, in her tiny riding suit, grinning ear-to-ear when she rode her first horse.
She sighed and flopped onto the grass, pulling bits up and tossing them into the air. What she wouldn’t give right now to have the sort of mother-daughter thing a few of her friends had. She was pea green with envy over the way Kathy and her mama would giggle together as if they were pals or sisters over silly things Kathy’s father would say. Or how they’d make a day of getting their hair done, complete with pretty colors for their nails.
“Go find your daddy,” Gloria would say when Lindsay had been young, but old enough to recall it, and needed homework help, or advice about her friends … or anything, really. When she’d woken up one morning with her panties all bloody and her stomach cramping up fit to kill, she’d had to ask Nellie what to do.
It made sneaking around, smoking, and drinking—or just avoiding the house by spending all her spare time in the barn with her horses—easy. Sometimes she thought the only one who’d notice she was missing was Frank, since her Daddy had gotten distracted and preoccupied with the slow erosion of his success and his bank accounts.
Unable to sit still, but unwilling to go home and face anyone, Lindsay snagged Zelda’s reins and started walking alongside the river that had been named for another failed horse famer. The horse was amenable enough for a while, but kept bumping Lindsay’s shoulder with her nose and making exasperated noises.
“Oh, all right, you big old baby.” Lindsay patted her neck, stuck her foot in the stirrup and jumped into the saddle. No matter what or how she felt about her life, the moment she sat astride a horse, the world seemed to shift into place for her. Smiling, she dug her heels into Zelda’s sides with a soft cluck of her tongue. They were off, galloping full-out across the large pasture between the river and the stretch of woods bordering her father’s property.
Hair streaming out behind her, Lindsay laughed out loud in pure pleasure, wishing she could ride forever, never stop, never face reality as the future Missus William Scott.
Never have to wonder how it felt to be held in Anton Love’s arms. Because she knew for a fact that her daddy would let him go. Her mama wouldn’t tolerate any less, and when she was in full-throttle obsessed mode, Gloria Halloran was worse than a dog with a bone. She would chip away at it until she got what she wanted … which was usually for her daughter to be truly miserable.
The late afternoon light lay still and shimmery hot across the expanse of grass between the edge of the woods and the Halloran barns. Lindsay stopped a moment, watching the comings and goings of boarded horses and their persnickety owners making irrational demands on the staff. She heard a familiar neigh. Zelda echoed it, head nodding again, eager to get to her stall for a cleanup and real food.
But Lindsay lingered, wanting—hoping—to catch sight of Anton. She bit her lip, keeping a firm grip on the reins so Zelda would quit stomping and fidgeting.
Lindsay’s own thighs were shaking from the last forty-five minutes of hard riding across pastures and through woods, plus she felt a little dizzy, thanks to a lack of food and residual alcohol from the night before.
When she thought she spotted Anton, her heart did a little trip-hammer thing in her chest. But then she realized the man was too tall and must be Lorenzo.
Finally, she clucked to the horse but held her at a slower pace, forcing Zelda into a canter so she could keep an eye on the figures coming and going in the paddock and between the barns. She slid off and walked Zelda the last few feet, head and heart still pounding with the sort of anticipation that made her feel weak and girly. She headed toward the wash area, self-conscious of the scene Will had caused earlier, and suddenly wishing she could assign this duty to one of the sta
ble boys and run inside to cower.
But everyone seemed busy, so she did Zelda’s washdown herself, then put her in a stall that was already filled with fresh hay and supplied with oats. The animal whinnied. Daisy answered her, as if to say “where the hell have you been?”
Lindsay fed Zelda half a carrot, then crossed over to give Daisy the other half. She leaned on the gate, trying to see if Daisy was still favoring her back foot as she’d done during their training earlier in the week. When she couldn’t get a good look at it in the late afternoon gloom, she went inside, patting Daisy down and grabbing her leg so she could examine it closely.
She must have spent more time in there than she realized, hanging out with her animals, talking to them, feeding them bits of carrot. When she emerged, blinking and confused, she realized it must be past suppertime. Cursing under her breath, she ran up the hill to the kitchen entrance, mentally concocting excuses for her tardiness. But the dining room was dark and empty. A delicious-smelling casserole dish covered in tinfoil sat on top of the stove. A pot of coffee, a fresh pitcher of iced tea, and a platter of sliced cucumbers and tomatoes were also at the ready.
After figuring her parents had gone to the club and her brothers were out doing God knows what, she made herself a plate and sat, eating the comforting combination of chicken and rice smothered in creamy mushroom soup. She coated the cukes and tomatoes with salt and ate some of those too, washing it all down with a huge glass of sweet, minty iced tea.
Patting her full stomach, she sat for a few minutes, pondering the silence in the house. Wondering if anyone had bothered to tell anyone else where they were going or what they were doing, she dumped her dirty plate in the sink, splashed cool water on her face, and realized she still was restless, when by rights she should be exhausted.
The frogs were setting up their usual racket in the pond, and the sound, combined with singing crickets, floated in through the open window over the huge porcelain sink. A breeze lifted her hair, caressing her neck. Lindsay shivered, letting the wind cool her overheated face.
