by Erica Penrod
Cassie grinned as she sank a pan into the steamy water. Washing dishes was a privilege in the Morgan home. The view from the kitchen windows was spectacular, and if the price to enjoy it was washing a few dirty dishes, she’d happily pay up. The girls didn’t seem to share her appreciation for the pines and aspens crowding up the mountain, the green grass and wildflowers sprinkled across the meadows, or the absence of neighbors an arm’s length away. Sometimes in the early morning hours or just before sunset, she would see deer grazing in the fields. She’d open the window and listen to the quiet sounds of nature—a healing prescription for grief.
When she and Grace first discussed the job, Grace said there was a full-time housekeeper to see to the cleaning and cooking if Cassie preferred, but she didn’t. The housekeeper still did all the deep cleaning and cooking when schedules demanded, but Cassie cleaned up after herself and the boys, prepared meals if they were home, and encouraged the girls to do the same. Skyler did the dishes on Mondays and Wednesdays, while Elle took care of Tuesdays and Thursdays. Most nights, no matter whose turn for dishes, everyone could be found in the vicinity of the kitchen, and that’s the way Cassie wanted it. She didn’t know what she had to offer Grace’s daughters in the absence of their mother, but she was determined to treat them as if they were her own daughters. Well, more like little sisters, but the idea was still the same.
Skyler and Elle were like most teenage girls, giggling about cute boys and fussing over their hair. But Grace’s influence could be seen in the way they respected those around them. The house employed several people besides the housekeeper: a groundskeeper, a farmhand, a stable manager, and a variety of horse trainers that came and went as needed. The girls greeted them all with a big smile and a hug. They had daily chores inside the house and out, and most often did them without complaint. Each girl claimed several horses, and part of that ownership required a strict riding agenda to keep the animals in shape. Cassie had quickly developed a hearty appreciation for the amount of time and effort it took to maintain the stamina of a competitive horse.
Getting used to the house, with its engineered beams and designer décor, furniture from Texas, and resort-like backyard, was one thing, but learning the equestrian side to the Morgans was like learning a new language—literally.
Skyler and Elle teased her mercilessly about her terminology. She didn’t know the difference between a halter and a bridle, the color of horses (why wouldn’t you call them brown, yellow, red, blue, or black?), or the definition of a tack room (which didn’t contain tacks), which held all the gear needed to ride and care for the animals. She surfed the internet, familiarizing herself with the jargon, while Rhett and Ryder acted as if she’d given birth in a barn and they’d never known anything else.
When Kip gave the boys their boots and hats, they refused to remove them for a week. The cowboy boots sat next to the bathtub every night, where they were promptly put on again with their pajamas. Cassie removed them once the boys were asleep, unless someone woke up in the middle of the night; then on again they went.
She had enjoyed the time since she and the boys came to Utah. The girls practiced every day, while Cassie took care of things around the house and spent time with the twins. They did plenty of swimming and hiking and even managed to ride a horse a few times with Elle as their instructor. However, summer was almost over, and everything was about to change
“Mommy … Mommy …” she heard, pulling her mind back into kitchen. The dishwater had cooled to lukewarm, and her fingers were wrinkled like her great-aunt Ruth’s. She released the drain and then wiped her hands on a towel printed with a rooster.
“What?” she answered, making her way towards the little voice. Cassie no longer needed a map to navigate the Morgan home, but she still marveled at the size.
When she had first arrived, she worried she’d lose the boys, but then she discovered that these particular wealthy people were smart people. The security system featured cameras throughout the house, giving her the freedom to do her job and keep an eye on her sleeping twins in the other wing.
She found her tiny people in the toy room. A heated battle over a dump truck with a decapitated driver had erupted. A plastic head was discarded to the side of Rhett’s feet. She picked it up, glancing at her sons; each boy held one end of the truck, pulling and screaming.
“It’s my truck,” Rhett howled.
“I had it first. It’s my guy,” Ryder said, yanking the truck free. The momentum knocked him over. He sat up quickly, ready to defend his property.
“Guys, there are plenty of toys for both of you,” Cassie said.
“I want my truck!” Rhett said. She noticed his hair, the bangs flipped up in the front, the sides and back glued into place. She turned to Ryder; his natural curls struggled to free themselves from the restraints of hair product.
“Did Skyler comb your hair today?” Both boys paused and looked up at Cassie, and then they ran their hands back and forth over their hair. “Okay, so it was combed today.”
Skyler popped her head in the door. “What happened?” She walked in and knelt by the boys. “You messed up your cute hair.” She tried to smooth Ryder’s reluctant locks into place, but the mention of hair had both boys styling their own.
“I give up,” Skyler said with a smile as she stood up. She turned to Cassie. “What time are we leaving?”
“Just as soon as you’re ready.”
Cassie heard a blow-dryer in the background. Elle was still in the throes of her beauty regimen.
“I’ll be out by the pool. Will you text me when it’s time to leave?” Skyler looked at her Apple Watch.
“Okay.” Cassie smiled to herself, thinking about how she and the girls fell easily into a routine. Grace left a week after she’d arrived, coming back intermittently, and the time alone made it easier for Cassie to get to know the girls, even though their brother was a favorite topic.
It also helped that Kip was out parading his pretty smile and left two days after the boot shopping incident. He was contracted to promote the next season of his reality show, which wrapped up filming at the end of May. He was shooting new commercials, giving magazine interviews, and followed the talk show circuit. Even if Cassie didn’t want his itinerary, she wasn’t allowed to forget, because she supervised his two biggest fans.
Kip was driving her nuts, and he wasn’t even around. Thoughts of him—and the way he caused her to have irregular heartbeats and dizziness in those miniscule moments she didn’t want to swear at him—cropped up at the most inconvenient times. Stacy shared some of the blame for her insanity since she giggled like a little girl over those dimples each time they talked on the phone. The last time they’d talked, she begged, “Tell me what he’s really like?”
“How should I know? I’ve only seen him a handful of times,” she answered. Stacy let it drop in exchange for talking about the latest issue with her boss.
The next time they talked, Cassie Googled Kip with Stacy on the other end of the line and binge-watched the reality show to “keep up her end of the conversation.”
From then on, she made a conscious choice to limit her phone calls with Stacy and give all her attention to the kids, which wasn’t difficult. Cassie was taking the girls into Salt Lake City to a western clothing store that specialized in custom orders. The girls each had a couple of shirts made, and the manager called to say there was a new fall line that she knew the young ladies would like.
Cassie decided her fixation on the absent Kip was because he made her feel things she couldn’t anticipate. It was the first time she’d noticed a man since Danny died, which meant she was coming back to life … and that scared her to death. Maybe she should give herself a break; he was handsome, but so was the guy on the shaving cream commercial.
Cassie helped the boys clean up their mess while they waited for Elle to finish getting ready. Half an hour later, they were loaded and driving down the mountain. Cassie had already driven the Escalade a few times. Deep down she
was terrified that she’d park somewhere and not be able to maneuver her way out of it. Even though Skyler and Elle reminded her that this was the oldest, least expensive car they owned, she knew if something happened, it would take about twenty years and two body organs to pay for it.
On the way into the Salt Lake Valley, the girls gave Cassie a crash course on rodeo apparel. According to the high school rule book, all contestants must be in western attire while competing or watching another event. Cassie asked to borrow the book from the girls, thinking it might clarify a few things and ease her transition as a rodeo chaperone.
They parked the SUV and walked the length of the parking lot (which Elle insisted was two miles) into Classic Country. Each girl had one little boy in tow. Shopping with two three-year-old children was never a great idea, but being outnumbered three to two, Cassie felt the odds were in her favor. That is, until she saw the teenagers, distracted by the shiny clothes, let go of the boys’ hands and run off like mice in a cornfield.
“Elle,” Cassie said, as she went after Ryder, “can you grab Rhett?”
Seconds later, both boys were corralled, and an angel in pink cowboy boots and a nametag flew in with a bucket full of plastic farm animals and a little red barn. “Here, these might help.”
“Thanks,” Cassie said.
Rhett and Ryder sat on the floor while Cassie sat in a chair next to the dressing rooms. Skyler walked over with a pile of jeans and long-sleeved shirts.
“Isn’t it a little warm for long sleeves?”
“I know, but shirts have to have long sleeves and a collar,” Skyler said. “Will you hold these while I try a few on?” She dropped them into Cassie’s lap. “There’s not enough room in there.”
Cassie shifted in her chair, adjusting the hangers to the same direction. She lifted the shirt on top: hot pink, with pearl snaps and white lace sewn into the shoulders. She’d be able to keep track of Skyler in this color. The price tag fell from inside the sleeve, and Cassie choked on her breath mint. She coughed a couple times and it went down.
“Are you alright, Cass?” Elle asked with her own Everest of clothing.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “Do you need me to hold some for you?”
Elle dropped them into her lap. Cassie couldn’t see beneath her and hardly anything above, but she could still hear the boys playing. Going by the price tag on the shirt and the mound on her lap, she was easily holding close to a thousand dollars’ worth of clothing. When she saw the tag on a pair of pants, she was glad she’d already got her mint down.
Now she understood why Grace had given her a credit card with Cassie’s name on it. “Just to make things easier,” the girls’ mother told her. She was to use it on anything for the girls along with anything she and the boys might need.
Room and board was part of her salary, and Grace’s definition included food, clothing, etc. It was hard for Cassie to comprehend someone trusting her with so much. Even though Grace made it clear how she felt the day Cassie and the boys arrived, it was hard to believe there were people in the world like Grace Morgan.
“What do you think?” Skyler emerged from the dressing room with dark washed jeans and a royal-blue shirt. She spun around; rhinestones covered the back pockets in the shape of a rainbow. The shirt matched her eyes, and her long, dark hair flowed across her shoulder, falling almost to her waist. She was a beautiful girl. There was so much of her mother in her, but other features Cassie recognized from Ben Morgan, who she’d seen a few times since she arrived. Most of his time was spent in Texas, but he would be here next week.
“Wow, you look so good.” She stared at the sixteen-year-old one more time. “But aren’t the pants a little long?”
“They have to be. They need to stack on my boots,” she said matter-of-factly, like Cassie should know this by now. Just then, Skyler’s phone buzzed. She dived into the dressing room to dig it from her pocket. Her blue eyes lit up, brighter than the rhinestone pockets.
Elle came bursting out her dressing room, waving her phone. “Guess who’s coming home tomorrow?”
She turned to Skyler. “Kip!” they both screamed at once. The twins looked up at them and covered their ears.
“I can’t wait,” Skyler said.
Cassie knew the siblings were close, but still.
“I thought you said he wouldn’t be home for a least a month,” she said to the girls, and then her eyes darted to the floor. “Did something happen?”
“I don’t know,” Skyler said, twirling her phone in her hands. She took another shirt from Cassie. “He just said, ‘Be home tomorrow.’”
“Oh,” Cassie said, looking at Elle in her red plaid shirt and sky-blue jeans. “That looks good, Elle.”
“Thanks,” she said, and turned in the mirror to see the pockets in the back. Elle was too busy to see Cassie take a gulp of air.
Cassie’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She twisted underneath the heap of clothing and yanked it from her pocket. It was a text from her mom. She punched in her code to unlock the phone and read, Call me ASAP. It’s about Danny.
Cassie’s heart jumped into her throat. Danny. She’d been so wrapped up in her new life, she’d almost forgotten about her old one.
* * *
The man strummed his fingers on the desk, glaring at the object before him. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together, noticing the rough edges of his fingernails and the torn cuticles along his thumb beds. Appalled by their appearance, he opened the top drawer and removed a nail file.
His slate-colored eyes were just as cold as they appeared, despite being sheltered by a thick coat of eyelashes coveted by more than one mistress. Where his eyes possessed almost a feminine quality, his Roman nose, centered between prominent cheekbones, and his square jaw left no doubt of his masculinity. Sandalwood colored skin covered his six-foot-one-inch chiseled frame, and his natural tan ensured he’d never lacked for a female companion in spite of his picture-perfect marriage or his age.
Once his nails met his satisfaction, he returned the file to the drawer, noticing its belongings, before closing it. He dusted the pants of his Italian suit, chuckling to himself. Just what would someone think about a desk drawer with a nail file, coconut hand moisturizer, a bottle of Creed cologne, and … a loaded pistol? The man picked up the photo of a pretty woman with two young boys that was lying on the desk and methodically rubbed his thumbs across the corners. They’d think he was a dangerous man.
4
Kip strummed his left thumb to the beat, while his right gave the four-wheeler plenty of gas. Headphones drowned out all the noise, except for the steel guitar in his ears. He sang every word without thought, while he had a silent conversation with himself. The army-green ATV took the corners on an incline as he raced along the mountain trail. Deep ruts, natural and Morgan-made, were part of the climb, and Kip suspected he could close his eyes and still make it to the top.
He parked the four-wheeler and then hung his helmet on the handlebar. He left his headphones on, but changed his mind once he sat on a broken tree trunk. He liked to think God placed it there especially for him. Maybe it was the altitude, he didn’t know, but things had a way of clearing up when he looked out into the valley, and that was just what he was counting on.
Taking off his backpack, he got out a bottle of water. He swallowed quickly; then, choking on the liquid, he started coughing. Once he could breathe, he laughed out loud. He’d felt oxygen deprived when Cassie came to town. If he were honest with himself, he could admit it had been longer than that—he’d hardly breathed since the day he met her.
He was twelve, she was fourteen, and his family stopped at her house for a visit on their way to California. Kip’s irritation for the extra travel time quickly evaporated when she answered the door with a cute “hello.” Cassie’s blonde hair was almost white in the Arizona sun, and her hazel eyes made him forget about the beach; he’d take the desert and its beauty any day.
When she pouted about being s
plashed or complained about hot dogs for lunch, her mother chided her. But Kip couldn’t take his eyes off the moody girl, because her heart was as pure as morning sunlight.
When Cassie twirled in the sun, his little sisters’ hands in hers, he found it hard to breathe as something inside of him changed. This teenager, who was happiest entertaining two little girls, had more substance than those dolled-up beauties on the movie screen his buddies were ga-ga over. He knew he’d never forget the way he felt when she smiled. It was as if she’d put her brand on his heart.
Kip went home that summer and never mentioned Cassie to his friends. They wouldn’t understand, or they’d tease until she was some joke they batted back and forth. He didn’t want that for her. No, Cassie was his and his alone. He saw her in his dreams and didn’t forget about her when the next cute girl came along. Time passed with her in the back of his mind, and he matured from a kid with a farmer’s tan into a young cowboy.
Kip didn’t play sports in high school. His belt buckle was his letterman’s jacket. The quarterbacks respected him, and the boys on the basketball court gave him a nod as he went down the hall. Getting a date for homecoming was never a problem for the guy in Cinch jeans and a Hooey baseball cap.
Weekend to weekend, town to town, Kip loped miles around the arena, usually with long-haired cowgirls by his side, but he searched the rodeo stands for the fair-haired girl. Not that he expected to see Cassie sitting there; she was more mythological goddess than human. He longed to find her aura. That all-consuming feeling he’d had as an awkward kid kept him looking towards the lights. But Cassie couldn’t be found, not in the eyes of the girl riding shotgun in his truck, and he’d come to realize that—at least in Utah—there was no Arizona sunshine.
