by Jennie Marts
“We don’t have a home. Not anymore. Just take the truck, Emma. I’m not coming with you.” He took another few steps backward.
“Where are you going? To find Tiffany?”
“Tiffany? Hell, no. I’m going to find a drink. A stiff one followed by several dozen more. Enough to make me forget. Forget about this. Forget about you. Take the damn truck.” He turned and walked away.
She watched his back as he rounded the side of the building, then he was gone.
Taking off after him, she stopped short as she saw the crowd of people gathering where Earl and Junior still lay on the ground.
Scanning the deserted fairgrounds, she saw no sign of Cash, but a deputy sheriff was heading in from the far parking lot, and she shrank back against the building.
That mess would catch up with her soon enough.
Hurrying back to the truck, she climbed in and grabbed the keys from above the visor where she knew Cash kept them. The big truck rumbled to life, and she drove a few laps around the parking lot looking for him.
Seeing no sign of him, she finally gave up and eased out onto the highway then drove toward the farm.
She considered driving around town, cruising through the parking lots of the local bars, trying to catch sight of him, but what good would it do?
He’d made it pretty clear that he was done with her, that they were over.
Instead, she drove back to the cabin and packed up her meager belongings. She was surprised at how many things she actually had at Cash’s. Besides her clothes, she had gradually brought over more things from her dad’s, making the cabin her home.
She pulled out her suitcase from where Cash had stashed it under the bed and tossed in her clothes, books, toiletries, and shoes. She grabbed the denim shirt she’d been wearing lately then stopped as she realized it actually belonged to Cash.
Sinking to the floor, she held the shirt against her chest as she cried.
Huge wracking sobs tore through her body as she leaned against the side of the bed. The bed where only that morning they had made love, where she had thought her life had finally changed. Changed for the better.
Where she thought she had found a place to call home, not just at the farm, but in the arms of a man—a good man—one who treated her with respect and dignity. And love.
Had he really said he loved her?
The thought of it only ripped the hole in her heart wider.
Getting up, she felt like every bone in her body hurt, as she threw the denim shirt in her suitcase and slammed it shut. Zipping it closed, she yanked it off the bed and dragged it through the living room, not stopping as she banged out the front door, afraid that if she stopped again, she’d fall to the floor and never get back up.
The brakes on her car had been fixed. They’d picked it up a few days before, but she’d gotten in the habit of Cash driving her to and from work, so the car had just been sitting in the driveway next to the barn.
Opening the back door, she stuffed in her suitcase, then climbed in the front.
The lights of the farmhouse were on, and she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. Didn’t want Charlie and Zack to see her like this—broken, again. She didn’t need their pity. Didn’t need anybody but herself.
It was high time she realized that. Realized that she could only depend on herself.
The tears dried on her cheeks as she headed back to her dad’s farm, not letting herself even glance in the rearview mirror as she left Tucked Away.
Five minutes later, she pulled up to the front of her dad’s house. The porch light was on, but everything else was dark and uninviting. She grabbed her suitcase, dug her keys from her purse, and let herself in.
The house had been closed up for weeks and had that musty smell mixed with the scent of old bacon grease. She dragged her bag up the stairs and collapsed on her old bed.
The house was so quiet—no friends making popcorn in the kitchen, no kitten purring on her pillow, no rumbling laugh of a man—only the dry hiss of the radiator as the heat turned off for the night.
What the hell had happened to her life?
How could everything have changed in what felt like a split second?
She considered taking a bath, drowning her sorrows in hot bubbly water, but that felt like too much work. Instead, she unzipped her suitcase and pulled out Cash’s denim shirt.
Stripping off her clothes, she wrapped herself in the faded cotton shirt that still carried his scent and crawled into bed. Except her bed didn’t feel right. The plain sheets were rough and cold against her legs, not like the soft flannel sheets on Cash’s bed.
She rolled over, but the other side of the bed was empty. And cold.
Curling into a ball, she hugged the pillow to her.
She’d been in a loveless marriage, she’d been single, she’d been lonely, but she’d never felt as utterly alone as she did right now.
At least she wasn’t afraid. Cash had taken care of that. Earl and Junior were most likely at home nursing their wounds, or possibly at the hospital, but she was sure they weren’t concerned about where she was tonight.
At least she had that.
…
Cash leaned forward on the horse, his hat low on his head, as it galloped toward the barn. He’d pushed the animal hard, needing to feel the speed and the danger as they charged through the fields.
The sun was setting as they raced into the corral, and he pulled back on the reins. He’d been fighting a hangover all day, and his head pounded as he dismounted from the horse and led it into the stable.
Walking away from Emma the night before had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, and evidently drowning his pain in shots of whiskey down at The Dive bar hadn’t been the best solution for getting over her.
He’d grabbed a ride home from one of the waitresses around two o’clock and had stumbled into the cabin and passed out on the sofa. Half of him had hoped that Emma would be there.
But he knew the minute they pulled into the driveway of Tucked Away, and he saw her car wasn’t there, that she was gone.
As much as he spent the day today telling himself that he’d made the right decision, that what he did was best for everyone, his heart ached in his chest like an abscessed tooth.
Like a relentless, persistent throb that rivaled the pounding in his head.
Miserable and depressed, he’d spent the day alone, working in the fields fixing fence line and sticking to the barn where no one would bother him. And he could wallow in his own self-pity.
He’d taken the horse out for a run, hoping to blow off a little steam, but it hadn’t worked. Nothing worked.
He pulled the saddle off Renegade and brushed down the horse’s sweaty coat.
Keeping busy did help a little, but his mind kept going back to Emma. To time spent with her, to hearing her laugh, to thoughts of her naked and in his bed, moaning his name.
That didn’t help either.
He’d crawled into the shower that morning and turned the water on as hot as he could stand it. She’d taken most of her things, but had forgotten her shampoo. Like a love-sick pup, he’d picked up the shampoo bottle, taken off the lid, and inhaled her scent.
Everywhere he’d looked today he saw reminders of her. He’d skipped having breakfast with Charlie and Zack that morning because he didn’t want to face Emma’s empty chair.
A noise sounded in the front of the barn, and his heart leaped at the insane hope that it was her. That she’d come back to tell him he was a fool and that she wasn’t going to let him ruin what they had.
“Cash?” his mother’s voice called out.
Not Emma. Which was probably a good thing. He wasn’t going to take her back, but he didn’t think he could handle breaking things off with her again today.
“Over here, Mom,” he answered, stepping out of Renegade’s stall and locking the gate behind him.
His mom crossed the barn and put her arms around his middle in a hug. “Hi, honey.”
/> “Hey.” He hugged her back, probably a little too hard and a little too long, but there was just something about a hug from your mom that always seemed to make things a little better.
She looked up at him quizzically. “What’s wrong?”
Leave it to his mother to automatically know when something was up.
“I broke things off with Emma last night.”
“Oh no.” She gestured to a row of hay bales lined up against the wall. “You better sit down and tell me all about it.”
They sat next to each other on the hay, and Cash leaned his back against the wall.
“What happened?” Kitty asked.
He let out a heavy sigh then told her what happened the night before. She listened intently, just like she’d always done, giving her whole attention to him when he had something to talk about.
Shame filled him as he told her about the fight with Earl and Junior, but he didn’t downplay the anger he felt or the brutality of the brawl.
“From what you’ve told me about the things they’ve done to Emma, it sounds like those assholes had it coming.”
A small smile tugged at his lips. It always struck him as a little funny to hear his mother cuss. “Yeah, they probably did. But that’s not the point.”
“Well, you’re going to have to enlighten me, then, because it sounds to me like you protected Emma. If you hadn’t shown up when you did, who knows what they might have done to her. This Earl character sounds like he’s got a mean streak a mile wide, and mean and drunk are not a good mix.”
He knew she spoke from experience. They hadn’t really ever talked about it, just didn’t bring it up, both preferring to focus on the here and now and forget about the past.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this stuff. I don’t want to dredge up bad memories for you.” He’d already hurt enough people; he didn’t need his mother to fall onto his list of casualties.
“I’m fine, honey. I know we don’t talk about it much.” She gave her shoulders a little shrug. “Or ever. But I’m okay. I’ve had a lot of counseling, and I’ve worked through a lot of that pain.”
He looked at her in surprise. “You have? Been to counseling, I mean?”
“Sure. Your Aunt Patsy made me go at first, but then I was glad I did. I used to have terrible nightmares and carried a lot of guilt.”
“I know what that’s like.”
“What do you mean? What in heaven’s name do you have to feel guilty about?”
Seriously? How could she ask him that?
“Mom, you were there. You saw what I did. That last night. I hit my own father with a baseball bat.”
“First of all, he was your stepfather. And secondly, you probably saved my life.” Tears sprang to her eyes, and a look of pain crossed her face. “Is that what this about? Does that night have something to do with why you broke things off with Emma?”
“That night has everything to do with why I broke things off with Emma.” He leaned forward, cradling his forehead in his hands. “Don’t you see? She’s been through enough. She’s spent the last ten years being abused by a man who was just like Dad, and she just escaped. I couldn’t let her go back to living like that again.”
“What are you talking about? How could starting a life with you be going back to that?”
He shook his head, the anguish pouring out of him, his throat hoarse from the sourness of it. “Because I’m just like him.”
His mother froze, stunned, then reached out and took his chin, tilting his face to look at her. “Did you hit her? Have you hit a woman before?”
“No, hell no.”
“Have you ever raised your hand to one?”
“No. But I’m afraid I might. You saw what I did. That same rage and fury that Dad had, that was in me that night. Mom, I think I could have killed him. I wanted to kill him.”
“Oh honey, I think part of me wanted you to kill him, too. But that doesn’t mean you are like him. We were the victims, and you were just finally fighting back. You were braver than I ever could be. You saved us.”
“I wasn’t brave. I was scared shitless. Terrified. But I was also fed up, and filled with hate and anger, and this beast inside of me came out, and I fought back. Just like I did last night when I beat the crap out of Earl and Junior Purvis.”
He took her hand and held it to his chest, pleading with her to understand. “Don’t you get it? I’ve got that rage inside of me still. That’s why I never let anyone get close to me. Why I don’t get involved with women. I can’t take the chance that I might hurt them.”
His mother lowered her head and tears rolled down her cheeks. She reached for him, pulling him into a fierce hug. “Oh, my boy. My precious baby boy. I’m so sorry.”
He pulled back. “What are you sorry for?”
“That we never talked about this. That you’ve been living with this for years. With this guilt and a misguided understanding of what happened.”
She took his cheeks in her hands, leaning her face toward his, her gaze solemn and her words stern. “Now you listen to me, Cash Walker, you are nothing like that man. Nothing. You hear me? I have known you from the day you were born, watched you grow up, grow into the man you are now. No one knows you better than I do. So you listen to me when I tell you, you are not like him. In any respect.”
He wanted to believe her. Wanted so badly to believe what she was saying was true.
“But I have such rage inside of me. And I hurt him. Just like I hurt those guys last night.”
“We all have rage inside of us. God gave us a whole passel of emotions and the ability to feel those emotions so strongly that you think they may take over your entire soul. We can feel grief to our very bones, we can feel joy with our whole spirit, we can feel a love so deep and wide that it feels as if our hearts may burst. And we can feel anger and rage so fierce that we may fear it will destroy us, but that doesn’t define us. It doesn’t define you.
“The rage you felt doesn’t make up who you are. It doesn’t consume you. I’ve seen you with your friends, with your goddaughter, Sophie, with the animals that you care for on this farm. I’ve watched you from the time you were a little boy. Even when we were going through the worst of it, you were still a good and caring person with a huge heart and an enormous capacity for love.”
He couldn’t speak; the emotions welling in him clogged his throat.
“You have always been loyal and fiercely protective. You watched out for me as best you could. And that was my mistake. I should have never put you in a position where you thought you had to protect me. I was the mother. I should have protected you. I should have left sooner, but I wasn’t strong enough. We all feel angry when we are hurt or when someone harms a person we love, but that doesn’t mean you have meanness and cruelty in you. And that’s what it takes to hit a woman. Mean, vile, cruelty. And you do not have that inside of you.”
He’d never thought of it that way, never had anyone tell him any differently than the way he perceived himself. “I don’t know.”
“I do know. And I know that the one thing—the most important thing—that diffuses anger is love. And I think you have a chance at love with Emma. I’ve seen the way you two are together. Even in the short time that I’ve been here, I could tell. That woman cares about you. And I’ve never seen you this torn up before.”
“That’s because this is the first time I’ve cared enough about anyone to risk it. But she saw me last night, saw me at my worst when I was beating up those guys. And when she looked at me after, I saw fear in her eyes.”
“I’m sure you did. That sounds like a scary situation. But are you 100 percent sure that what you saw was fear of you? Do you truly believe that she is afraid of you?”
He thought back to her baiting tactics of the night before. She sure hadn’t seemed afraid when she was shoving him and yelling in his face.
“No, I guess not. She sure tested me last night. I think she was trying to draw that anger out o
f me, trying to get me to take a swing at her. She yelled and screamed, swore at me, and even slapped me across the face.”
“And did you want to take a swing at her? Were you tempted to?”
“No, of course not. Never. Not even when she ripped the mirror off my truck.”
“Your truck? Are you sure you didn’t want to punish her for that? Even just a little?”
His head snapped back, shocked at the suggestion. “Punish her? NO. Not even a little. Why would you even say such a thing?”
Kitty offered him a gentle smile. “To prove to you, once and for all, that you’re not like him. Your mind doesn’t work the same way. Men abuse women for power and control. Your stepdad used to ‘punish’ me for what I wore or how I spoke or who spoke to me. Cash, you are not like him. That is not in your nature. You treat women with respect and as something to protect, not punish.”
He let her words sink in.
What she was saying made sense.
Whenever he got angry, the bulk of his anger was either aimed at himself or at someone who was causing harm to another person. The angriest he’d ever gotten had been during times when he was protecting someone else.
“I feel terrible. I had no idea you were carrying this around inside you. We should have talked about this a long time ago,” Kitty said. “Honey, what you did that night, the way you stood up to him, that’s what gave me the courage to finally walk away, to be able to move out of Montana when you graduated, to build a new life for myself. You saved my life that night, in more ways than one.”
“Really?”
“Really. And I’m so sorry you’ve been carrying around all that guilt. I’m sorry I never thanked you or made you understand that what you did was a gift to me. I want you to let all that go now. Just give it up. You don’t have to carry it anymore.”
Could he just let go of years of guilt? Of imagining himself as a monster?
What good was it doing him?
It only caused him pain. He’d lost the woman he loved because he was holding on to anger and guilt. But he didn’t need it anymore.
His mother’s words had set him free.
