by Nancy Loyan
“I hope that it’s okay? The bath is through that far door.” She pointed.
“It sure beats sleeping under an underpass, or under a tree.” He smiled.
She smiled back. “Have a nice night, Jonathan Travis Harrington III.”
He watched as she stepped out into the hall. She turned around, “I forgot to thank you for the roses. They are lovely.”
Before he could reply, she was down the hall.
For a moment, Travis just stood, stunned. The week certainly had taken a turn. What he thought was going to be an escape with an old college friend, was turning into an interesting detour.
3
What was she thinking?
Shelby closed her bedroom door … and locked it. Was it to keep Travis out or her self in? There was something about the handsome stranger that gave her heart palpitations, caused her to tremble, and get so discombobulated that she couldn’t think straight. Never since Abram had a man unsettled her so.
Yet, Travis was as opposite of Abram, as an apple was from a pear. The only commonality was that they were both male and liked horses. Abram had the rugged, tanned good looks of a cowboy. Though born and raised in Michigan, he had spent so many years on the rodeo circuit that most people assumed he was from out West. He was the tall and lean, jean clad, spurred leather boots, and felt brimmed cowboy hat type. He even spoke in a slow and easy drawl. Travis was a handsome, refined and polished preppie. Even the Harley and leather couldn’t roughen up his clean-cut, proper visage.
Her last and only boyfriend was also an educated professional. Look where that got her, in the doghouse. He was in love with someone else. It hadn’t bothered her as much as she expected because they were such opposites. She and Travis were opposites, too. Why did opposites tend to attract?
She sighed and opened her bureau drawer to remove a favorite flannel nightgown.
A “woof” startled her from her thoughts. She peered over to the bed where her dog pack was settled in for the night. Her graybeard black Lab, Onyx, lay on the pillow next to hers. Ever since Abram’s death, he had taken over the spot. The black and white English Pointer, Speckles, lay at the foot, peering up at her with contemplative amber eyes. Nestled in between was her German Shepherd, Zeus, and mixed breed, Sprocket. She was always taking in strays. Travis was another stray. He wandered on to her property. Unlike all of the other strays, his visit wasn’t permanent. The thought, though, did briefly cross her mind. From the moment they met, he seemed to blend in perfectly with the scenery, the farm, and with her.
Maybe that’s why she had the crazy idea of inviting him to spend the night. Hey, she wasn’t sleeping with him. She was just offering accommodation from bad weather. Right. If she wasn’t attracted to him, she would have sent him on his way, storm or not. She had to admit, that she wanted to see his handsome face, and converse with him more. The old farmstead had never seemed as lonely as when he had come and left.
She shivered. The man was out of her league, and she had to be out of her mind.
Travis, undressed down to his boxer briefs, slipped under the sheets and down comforter, in the lumpy bed in the all-too-cozy-bedroom, in the all-too-cozy farmhouse. It reminded him of when he was little boy visiting at his grandmother’s house. Grandmothers, though, were not sexy like Shelby Shane. He had experienced chemistry with the woman that couldn’t be denied. It was as if he were destined to appear at her farm, as if some magical force led him to her. With her, he was enchanted, yet so comfortable.
Shelby was so genuine, unpretentious, and a breath of fresh air. His life seemed to be surrounded by people who were filled with hot air. Working at a prestigious boarding school, he dealt with spoiled teens, entitled parents, and arrogant alumni. He was grateful for the horses. There was nothing more humbling than mucking out a stall, grooming and tacking a horse, and having it nuzzle his head before and after a ride. He had to admit that he preferred horses to most people, even family members and future in-laws.
Shelby was different and he liked it. She wasn’t Penelope.
Damn! Penelope!
She had left messages on his cell phone ever since he left Indiana. Always checking up on him. Always making requests. Though she lived in Chicago, she regularly visited him, and telephoned multiple times during the day. Penelope’s favorite motto was, “It’s all about me.”
He pulled out his cell and, of course, Penelope had called yet again and texted. Her messages were irate. Before he had left, he told her that his cell would not work in the U.P. and that he would be inaccessible. He wanted a vacation break from everything and everyone, including her. He clicked off the phone. To hell with it. He was grateful for not having any reception. Let her wait.
He lay back on the pillow. The only sound was that of the thunder rolling over the countryside, and the only light, the streaks of lighting. A strange sense of peace washed over him. He hadn’t felt this way at Paul’s U.P. cabin. There was something about the rural farm that was as comforting as his childhood security blanket.
Shelby had that caring way, too. He wondered if she was tucked in her bed. She was probably covered in a flannel granny nightgown. He laughed. She just didn’t strike him as being a Victoria’s Secret kind of girl. For some reason he liked it.
The thought of Shelby wrapped in soft flannel was sexy and … arousing.
Get over it, Trav,
Travis awakened with a start. For a moment he didn’t know where he was, and how he got there. As his eyes fluttered open, he was blinded by the sun beaming through a window. He used his hand as a visor and looked about the room. The sturdy oak furniture, navy drapes, and his clothes folded on top of a dresser where he had set them the previous night. Right. He was at Shelby’s. The thought startled him because the idea seemed natural enough to be a regular occurrence.
The sun was out, so the wind and rain must have moved on. This promised to be a good day for his bike ride back to Indiana. Spending the night was a good idea. He was spared treacherous driving conditions, and he would be able to see and chat with Shelby again. .
He smiled. There was more than the sun to brighten his morning.
“Good morning,” Shelby greeted as Travis entered the kitchen. She had just sent the dogs outside, and was setting a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice on the kitchen table.
She gazed at him, for it had been years since she had a man’s company in the morning. Travis looked too good. His unshaven face with its black stubble was sexy hot on him. His curly hair was a bit rumpled and damp at the edges. At least he did shower. His clothes were neat, so he didn’t sleep in them. She couldn’t help but smile.
“Morning,” he replied, his gaze meeting hers. She felt a blush coming on and hoped that he wouldn’t notice.
She had already changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, cleaned out the stalls, fed the horses, chickens, barn cats, and dogs and had settled in for her first cup of coffee for the day. All of her morning tasks were completed before he awakened.
“Some juice?’ she asked.
“Sure,” he replied, slumping in a chair at the table.
She sensed his gaze trailing her as she removed glasses from the cupboard and set them on the table. Pouring the juice into two glasses, she said, “Coffee’s ready.”
“Great. I really can’t function until I have some caffeine,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m afraid that I’m coffee addicted.”
“There are far worse addictions.” Didn’t she know?
He raised his juice glass in a mock toast, “To a wonderful day.”
She raised her glass in turn. “I believe it will be. The sun’s out and that’s always a good sign.”
“After last night, I agree.”
They clinked glasses and drank. Though it was only orange juice, it may as well have been champagne. She was equally as giddy.
“Did you sleep well?’ she asked. She hadn’t. Thoughts of him kept her awake most of the night. Awakening at dawn was difficult this morning.
“Very. I don’t know when I ever slept so soundly. It’s so peaceful out here. Hey, and there isn’t any reveille either.”
“Oh, yes, the alarm clock of the military.” She smiled.
“Precisely.”
“So, what would you like for breakfast? I just brought in some eggs from the coop. Sunny side up? Scrambled? An omelet? I can also mix up some hot cakes? Sorry, I don’t do bacon.”
“What are you running, a Denny’s?”
She shook her head. “Just some country cooking.”
“I don’t see how you stay so thin with all the food and cooking.”
“My daddy always said that breakfast was the most important meal, because it provides fuel for the day. Around here, I work it off.”
“You don’t have any help?”
“Sometimes, I hire out, but, for the most part, I can handle it all.” She couldn’t afford hired help. In order to keep the farm, the animals and her lifestyle, she had to work long and hard. How could someone of his means ever understand?
“That’s a lot to handle.”
She shrugged.
He was staring at her.
“What?” she asked.
“You’re amazing.”
She shook her head.
“Modest, too.” He rose from his seat. “Tell you what, I’ll make the hotcakes while you fry the eggs. Two can work in this kitchen.”
“That’s not necessary …”
“I insist. Hey, I can cook. Trust me, I can.”
She found that rather surprising. Didn’t folks like him have servants for that?
Travis considered sharing the kitchen and the cooking with Shelby fun. He was used to cooking for himself, when he tired of mess hall dining. She seemed surprised at his prowess with pots, pans, and his memory of recipes. They laughed while mixing, stirring, and frying together. Travis had never cooked with anyone before. Penelope didn’t know, rather preferred not to know, how to cook anything. Boiling water was even beneath her. Household staff, and five-star restaurants tended to her needs. Shelby, on the other hand, was immersed in the art.
After preparing breakfast, they sat, drank coffee, and ate while discussing horses, equestrian sports, and her farm.
“I can talk to you all day, or for days, but I’m sure you have work to do and I’d best be on my way,” Travis said, setting his cloth napkin on the table and rising.
“Before you go, perhaps you’d like to have a tour of my place and meet my horses, after all of this horse talk.”
“I’d like that. I’d like it a lot.” How could he turn down the invitation? He had been curious about her farm ever since he broke down in front of it.
“I promise to get you out of here before dark.” She winked.
He chuckled, though the thought of spending another day and night with her was a good one.
* * *
Shelby’s homestead was more than just a farm. It was a sanctuary. Every structure, piece of equipment, and animal had a back-story. Everything was pre-owned and old. Even though Shelby was young, her wisdom was far beyond her years. Unlike his formative years of privilege, Shelby’s life had been a constant struggle. Economic hardship, and doing without had been, and was her way of life. Yet, she maintained a sunny demeanor that Travis found enchanting. She was real. It was an attribute he found lacking in his social circle of elitist phonies. He hoped that she didn’t consider him one, based on his background and lifestyle.
He followed her into the brick and clapboard barn. The sweet scent of hay, acrid manure, and musky horses made him feel at home. The horses’ neighing was a welcoming sound. He smiled. Horses always made him smile because they had always provided the unconditional love he had lacked. As a child and youth, he had found comfort around them. He admired their regal, powerful presence and the respect they commanded. Though far more powerful than any human, they acquiesced and adapted to training and commands. They were intuitive and intelligent beings. He found horses to be trusting equals and partners.
“You always know where you stand with a horse,” Shelby said, interrupting his thoughts.
“I know. It’s probably why I prefer working with them to working with humans,” he answered.
“You, too?’ Her gaze met his, and he saw the sincerity sparkle in her eyes.
They strolled past the tack room and down an aisle where her horses were housed in their box stalls. Though the stalls were old with aged wood and cast iron latches, fresh straw blanketed the rubber-matted floors. Everything was organized and clean. The barn was brightly lit and well ventilated. Fresh water and feed were in buckets and the horses were shimmering, muscular, and well cared for. She paused in front of a stall.
The Appaloosa nudged her with his snout and snorted. She placed her hand on his sparse white mane and drew him close, planting a kiss on his mottled nose.
“I named him Romeo. I swear if he were a man, I’d marry him in a heartbeat,” she mused with a chuckle.
“He’s a handsome fellow.”
“When I adopted him five years ago, he was a mess, all skin and bones with a belligerent attitude. He had been abused, and I was told that he couldn’t be trained, and best be euthanized.” She continued to stroke the horse, her hand caressing his spotted coat. He bowed his head for more of her tender touch. “I don’t give up on animals.”
“He seems tame now.”
“It took awhile but I turned him around. I worked with him, and showered him with love. Love is the universal language that all creatures understand.”
Travis nodded, though he had never given much thought to love, and its true meaning. Coming from her lips, the word seemed special with reverence.
“I imagine that you shower all of the horses with love?”
“Yes, and every creature who resides here, I love. All of them have been abused and abandoned throwaways. I want them to know that there are kind people who will love them, care for them forever, and never give up on them.”
Travis swallowed hard. Her compassion for animals touched his heart in a way it had never been touched. The horses he tended were as privileged as the people who purchased and donated them. Shelby’s barn was a reflection on her. Her mission wasn’t based on pedigree, money and status, but on genuine concern and love. He liked that. He liked that a lot.
“These animals are my “fur babies.” I guess because I don’t have children, I use my motherly instinct on them.”
She had a faraway look in her eyes when she said the words. Regret? What a lovely mother she would be. She was beautiful inside and out, and a child would be blessed to have her for a mother. He could visualize her with a little one in her arms, and the thought made him warm and fuzzy inside. This was a new feeling for him. He had never given much thought to children, and the concept of a family in his life. The thought never entered his mind, even while with Penelope. How strange, he now thought, to be engaged to someone who never made him think of his unborn children. Shelby was making him rethink many things. He was beginning to wonder if that was good or bad.
“Let me introduce you to my other babies,” she said, leading him to another stall where an elegant Friesian was housed. “This is Topaz.”
“We have a few Friesians at Culver. Such majestic creatures,” Travis said, stroking the horse’s muscular black neck.
“He’s a sweetheart. His owner died, and I took him in when the heirs didn’t want anything to do with him.” She sighed.
She proceeded to introduce him to Rusty, her American Quarter Horse that she rescued from an abusive owner and Darby, her smaller Cobb pony that she had nursed back to health.
“If I had the resources, I’d run a horse rescue and adoption program. Might even add a therapeutic riding program for underprivileged children, the handicapped, and returning veterans.”
“I’ve thought of therapeutic riding programs, too. I believe that all children, healthy or not, should experience the joy of horses. Actually, it’s something I’ve considered as a retirement project.”
>
“Really? I’d start a program now if I had the resources.”
“You’d be great at that.”
“Thanks.”
The tour of the barn, the introduction to her horses, and the overview of her property were enlightening. Shelby was a remarkable woman. She was extremely hardworking and capable. Her determination was commendable. Yet, she was still feminine and kind.
Once outside in the drive, Travis paused, thinking aloud, “Everyone and everything here has a story, doesn’t it?”
Shelby stopped walking and met his gaze, a distant look in her eyes. “Including me,” she mumbled.
They stood in still silence.
“Maybe one day you’ll share your story?” Travis asked. He wanted to know what past experiences caused her eyes to suddenly glisten, and her lips to tremble. Behind the confident façade was sadness and vulnerability. He wanted to reach out to her and hug her, draw her close and tell her that everything would be fine. Yet, they were mere acquaintances. He didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, lest he mess things up.
“Maybe one day.” She forced a smile. Pointing toward his Harley, she said, “You know, you have quite a ride ahead of you. At least the storm front has moved east. You’ll have clear skies all the way to Indiana.”
“Ever think of being a weather reporter?” He chuckled.
“I just read the forecast on the computer this morning.”
He walked over to his bike, noticing that she had earlier placed his helmet on the handlebars and had wiped down the bike, a considerate gesture. “Thank you.” He smiled. “Now, I just have to see if this machine runs.”
She came near. “You have a phobia about this bike, don’t you?”
“Just some trust issues, after the last mechanical failure.” He thought of how she had aptly repaired his bike. On one hand, he hoped that the bike wouldn’t start. It would give him another excuse to delay his trip back to Culver and, instead, spend more time getting to know her. Yet, he had a life to lead in Indiana, with obligations and responsibility.
