At his disgusted expression, she added, “Just think of me as fresh clay. You get to mold me. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“I ain’t so sure the boss is gonna like this. He hired you to keep house.”
“You have any complaints about the food?”
“No.”
“When you do, I’ll give this up. Come on, Chaney. I really want to learn, and Cal says you’re the best.”
She could practically see his chest swell with pride. “He’s got a point.” He stared thoughtfully across the paddock, watching the way Lady Mary was bobbing her head when she caught sight of them. The horse’s ears pricked up and she trotted across to them, nuzzling against Chaney’s jacket, apparently looking for the sugar cubes Marilou suspected he hid there for all the horses.
Finally, after he’d given Lady Mary the sugar, he turned back to Marilou. “I suppose if you’ve got your head set on this, you might’s well learn things right. I’ll start you out at the bottom, though. No favoritism.”
“Absolutely. So, what should I do?”
“You can start by mucking out stalls.”
“What’s that?”
“It ain’t anything like baking pies, I can tell you that,” he said with a gleeful expression. “Roddy, come on over here and meet Marilou. She wants to learn about horses.”
Roddy, who looked to be no more than eighteen or nineteen, gazed at her shyly. He rubbed his hands on his jeans, then held one out to her. “Morning, ma’am,” he said in a whisper as she shook his callused hand.
“You let her help you this morning, son. I don’t mean watchin’, either. Put her to work.”
Roddy’s cheeks burned and his eyes widened in dismay. “But, Chaney, that ain’t no work for a lady.”
“No,” Marilou said quickly, judging from his reaction that Chaney truly was starting her at the bottom. “It’s okay, Roddy. You just show me. I’m not afraid of a little hard work.”
He still looked uncertain, but apparently sensed her determination. He nodded at last. “Okay, ma’am. If you say so.”
Although she’d begun to figure out just what she’d gotten herself into even before they reached the stable, she was not fully prepared for the overpowering scents that greeted her as Roddy led her into the first stall to be mucked out. He showed her how to rake out the filthy straw and replace it with clean, while the horses were either in the paddock or being worked on the track. Though in many ways the barn was a lot cleaner than she would have imagined, there was no way to keep it spotless. The work was hot, smelly and tiring. The worst of it was that she didn’t seem to be learning anything about horses. They weren’t even around. She knew better than to complain, though. If Chaney was testing her mettle, she was determined to pass.
By the time he came in to check her work, she had blisters on her hands, straw in her hair and dirt and dust from head to toe.
“She did great,” Roddy told the manager. He pointed out the stalls she’d done entirely on her own, and Marilou found herself holding her breath as Chaney inspected them.
“Not bad,” he finally said grudgingly.
Marilou felt as if she’d been given a letter of commendation. “Thanks. What about tomorrow?”
He actually came close to smiling at that. “You ain’t scared off yet?”
She grinned back at him. “Not a chance.”
“Then I’ll think on it tonight and we’ll figure out a plan.”
“Thanks, Chaney.”
If nothing else, the hard work had kept her from thinking too hard about Cal. He’d barely crossed her mind all morning. But once she was back at the house, she began to wonder just what he was going to think when he found out what she’d done. Chaney had been right about one thing: Cal was paying her to keep house, not to muck out stalls or even to plant a kitchen garden, for that matter.
She didn’t have long to wait. Cal stormed into the kitchen with a scowl she could read from across the room. She immediately turned back to the sink. He came up behind her and reached for one of the blistered hands she was holding under the cool tap water.
At the sight of the raw, broken skin, he muttered an oath. “Sit. Let me get some ointment.”
“They’ll be fine,” she said without moving.
“Not if they get infected,” he countered as he reached into a cupboard for a jar of cream. He nudged her toward a chair, then took her hands and soothed on the cool, white ointment. His touch was gentle, but the expression in his eyes was fierce, and Marilou knew he was only holding his anger in check temporarily. The instant he’d treated both hands, those cool gray eyes met hers and there was no doubt about the storm brewing.
“What the devil did you think you were doing?” he demanded roughly. “I kept my mouth shut about the damned garden, but this has gone too far. You’re not cut out for this kind of work.”
“I won’t die from a few blisters.”
“Maybe not, but did you ever consider the disruption to my staff? I’ve got a lovesick groom out there and a manager who’s still hooting over the sight of you with straw and horse dung from head to toe.”
Marilou did not believe for one minute that Roddy was lovesick or that Chaney had been making fun of her. Cal was making excuses for his own reaction. He didn’t like the way she’d wheedled her way into another part of his life.
“I had time on my hands.”
“Then clean the damned closets. That’s what you’re being paid to do.”
“The closets are cleaned, and don’t forget that this housekeeping game can end just as quickly as it began. You don’t take it seriously and neither do I.”
“Then why don’t you just quit and go home?”
“You know why.”
“The letter,” he said.
“That’s right. The letter. You haven’t even asked to see it.”
“Fine. What the hell. Show it to me. Then maybe things can get back to normal around here.”
“You mean where you’re the boss and the rest of us just bow and scrape?”
“No, I mean when I don’t have some damned fool woman interfering in my life.”
“You read that letter and call your grandmother, and I’ll be out of here so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
“Get the letter,” he snapped.
Marilou ran up to her room and retrieved the letter from her purse. Oddly, though, as she took it downstairs, she realized that instead of gloating with satisfaction, what she was feeling felt a whole lot more like pain.
Chapter Six
Cal had no idea why he’d been so infuriated when Chaney had told him about Marilou’s working in the barn. All he knew was that the admiring comments from Roddy and the other grooms had made him see red. Then when he’d walked into the kitchen and seen her rinsing her blistered hands at the sink, he’d lost it. Marilou wasn’t some fragile little flower needing his protection, but by God he was not going to let her wear herself out while she was working for him.
It wasn’t until he was already in the midst of yelling that he had recognized the spark in her eyes for what it was—pride and excitement. She had actually loved spending the day in all that filth. That made him all the madder, because he hadn’t been the one to share with her an experience that obviously meant so much.
Talk about perversity! He was getting to be a real genius at it. Now, as payment for his stupidity, he was going to have to read that damned letter.
Read it, hell. If he knew Marilou, that wasn’t going to be the end of it. She was going to expect action, and he wasn’t ready for a confrontation with his past. The memories had been coming back the past few days, not all of them bad, but enough of them that he wished this so-called grandmother had never tried to track him down.
He was pacing the length of the porch and back again when Marilou returned. Silently she handed him the letter, then retreated to one of the rockers and sat down. The thick vellum paper couldn’t have weighed over an ounce or two, but it felt like a ton in his hands. He didn’t wa
nt to open the envelope, didn’t want to know its contents, didn’t want to believe that it was really meant for him.
If Marilou had pushed, it would have been easier to rip the letter up right then and there in a gesture of defiance. Or at the very least, he could have blamed her for the way he was feeling. Instead she just rocked and waited, all patience and serenity and expectation.
Finally, itching for a fight, he went over and sat in the chair next to her, still regarding the letter warily.
“What are you afraid of?” she said quietly. “It’s just a letter.”
“It’s the past,” he corrected grimly. “And I’m not so sure I want to be reminded of it.”
“Why?”
It was something he’d never talked about, not even to Joshua. He figured his friend had seen enough and guessed the rest. Even if that hadn’t been the case, Cal wasn’t the kind of man who liked baring his soul. A man dealt with his problems; he didn’t share them. He stiffened instinctively at Marilou’s question, but then he looked into her eyes and there was that tenderness again, that genuine caring. He sighed and, to his amazement, the words just began to come.
Keeping his gaze riveted on the horizon, he said slowly, “From the day I was born about the only thing I can remember about my parents is the fights. Nothing was ever good enough for my mother. Nothing. My father tried and tried, but no matter what he said or did, she was always looking for more.” He turned to her. “Do you see? A man can be destroyed by that kind of selfishness and greed.”
“Was your father destroyed by it?”
He shrugged. “No,” he admitted, still bemused by that. “For some reason he never seemed to blame her. It was like he believed she had a right to be angry and hateful.”
“Did they ever explain?”
“I never asked. I just got out as soon as I could and swore I’d never let any woman do to me what my mother did to my father.”
“But maybe she had her reasons. Don’t you at least want to understand what they were?”
“There’s nothing that could make what she did right. Maybe things didn’t turn out exactly the way she’d expected, but she had no call to treat him the way she did.”
“I’m not trying to make excuses for her. I just think maybe the letter will help you to understand. She may have felt very much alone.”
The certainty in her tone made him ask, “Did you read it?”
She nodded, her expression at once full of guilt and apology. “I wasn’t supposed to, except to look for an address, but then I saw that your grandmother was dying and I had to read it all. I could see how important it was to her to try to find you. Read it, Cal. Maybe it’ll make up a little for what you lost.”
He tried once more to convince her—and himself—that he was beyond the reach of the past. “I didn’t lose so much, just a harridan of a mother and a spineless father. I gained a lot more: success, satisfaction, power.”
She regarded him doubtfully, obviously unimpressed by his accomplishments. “I suppose that is a lot by some standards, but in my book it doesn’t make up for family. Seems to me all the money in the world can’t compensate for loneliness.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Marilou. I am rarely lonely.”
“Maybe,” she said, but he could tell she wasn’t buying it. Still the truth of the matter was, he’d never known what loneliness meant until he’d forced himself to spend the past few days staying clear of her. Even now he was drawn to her in a way that warned him to run, to flee the hurt that always, always came with caring.
And yet he stayed, weighing the letter in his hand, trying not to see the expectancy in her eyes as she waited. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, he opened the envelope and withdrew the pages with their crimped scrawl.
My dearest Cal…
I know you’ll be surprised to hear from me after all these years. For all I know you didn’t even know I existed. I can’t really blame your mother for that. It was my fault for being so pigheaded. If you inherited anything from our side of the family, I hope it wasn’t that. Stubbornness can be a blessing and a curse. In my case, it cost me everything I held dear, and I believe if your mother is at all honest with herself, she’d have to say the same.
You see, I thought your mother was making a dreadful mistake when she married your father. I had nothing against him, though she was too young and rebellious to realize that. I just knew that I’d spoiled her. She’d been raised to expect so much, things I suspected your father would never be able to provide. Asking a man to give what’s beyond him is a terrible thing. No marriage can survive it. I ought to know. I did the same thing to your grandfather and he left me. I could see all the same problems coming with Sissy and your father and it broke my heart.
Still, I should never have caused a rift so deep it could last a lifetime. And once done, I should have had the will to fix it, but I kept waiting for her to come back. I guess she couldn’t bear to admit I was right, and I know I was. The people I hired to keep an eye on her whereabouts told me that much. Later, when you were born, I wanted so much to mend fences, but when I wrote, she ignored my letters. I guess after waiting so long, I can’t really blame her.
Never forget that I love you, boy. I’m so sorry that we’ve never had a chance to get to know each other. I’m dying now, so I don’t know if we’ll ever meet. Just know that not a day goes by when I don’t think of you with all my love. Be happy, Cal, and forgive an old woman for her mistakes.
Your grandmother.
Cal’s eyes were blurred with tears as he came to the end. He’d never thought of himself as sentimental, but he found that his heart was filled with anguish over all the pain his grandmother must have suffered for that one strong-willed mistake. He knew all about digging in his heels and then learning to live with the consequences. She’d been right, but as she said, at what cost? So much bitterness. So many years of loneliness and regrets. To his surprise he found he was incapable of placing blame, not with her anyway. At last he had a few of the answers to questions that had always plagued him. The relief this brought him was not nearly as complete as he’d hoped. Anger didn’t fade that quickly, and nothing she’d said absolved his parents.
He lifted his head and saw that Marilou was studying him closely.
“You believe me now, don’t you?” she said softly. “You know she’s your grandmother.”
“I can’t deny that it all fits,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Then you’ll go see her?”
Not really surprised by the question, he shook his head. “No. There’s no need.”
“Cal, she’s dying. She needs to see you.”
“Seeing me won’t relieve her guilty conscience. The only one who could do that is my mother, and I doubt she’d feel so inclined.”
“You could call her. She should know about this, too.”
He stared at her incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding. I haven’t seen or spoken to my mother for twenty years, not since the day I walked out.”
“Then it’s about time you did.”
“You read the letter. My grandmother knows where to find my mother. It’s between the two of them.”
“And you can just leave it at that?” she said furiously. “What kind of man are you? Do you have so many people in your life that you can afford to throw away a woman who loves you as much as she obviously does?”
“Grow up, Marilou,” he said fiercely, then muttered a curse as he saw her wince. He softened his tone, but not his message. “This isn’t some romantic story with a guaranteed happy ending. Pieces of paper and pretty sentiments don’t make up for years of anger.”
“They aren’t just pretty sentiments. She means it, Cal. She’s sorry. You have to go. You have to let her die in peace. If you don’t, especially now that you know, the guilt will eat away at you for the rest of your life.”
“What do you know about guilt, my little innocent?” He couldn’t hide the edge of sarcasm that crept into his thoughts. He was tired as
hell of her pious attitude about what was right for him.
Her rocking chair stilled and she stared up at him, her expression bleak except for the furious sparks in her eyes.
“You think I don’t know anything about guilt?” she began quietly. “Believe me, Cal Rivers, you don’t hold an exclusive on it. I’ve been living with it since the day my parents died in that accident. I’ve blamed myself for every bitter word. I’ve lain awake nights wondering whether they might have avoided the crash if they hadn’t been so upset and worried about our argument.”
Huge tears were welling up in her eyes, shimmering on her lashes. For the second time in minutes, Cal felt his own eyes grow misty with the unfamiliar sting of salt. Sorrow and guilt over his harsh accusation lay heavily in his chest as her voice fell to a broken whisper. “I never had the chance to tell them I was sorry. I never told them how much I loved them. Now I’ll never get to say the words or to hug them or even to say good—”
With the break in her voice came tears, spilling down her cheeks as she gazed at him helplessly. “Oh, Cal, I miss them so much.”
Without thought for the consequences, he lifted her up and gathered her close, sheltering her in his embrace. If he was inexperienced at being comforted, he was even more so at offering it. He murmured nonsense at first, then searched for more, for words that could ease her pain. “I know, babe. I know,” he soothed. “They knew how much you loved them, even if you never said the words.”
“How?” she asked, clinging to him, watching him with so much hope in her eyes, needing forgiveness he had no right to give. “You can never assume that people know what’s in your heart.”
“With you, it’s possible,” he promised. “You’re the kind of woman who radiates love. Anyone who knows you would have to feel it. Your parents would be proud of you, Marilou. They taught you to love and to fight for what you believe in. Even though you argued on that last day, I’ll bet they were proud to see you standing up for what you wanted in life. Hell, even though your nagging drives me crazy sometimes, I have to admire your conviction. It’s who you are.”
She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, the gesture reminding him of a child trying to salvage pride after an outburst. A sad smile tugged at her lips. “Then I guess you won’t mind that I’m not going to let up about this. I may not be able to convince you today, but I will sooner or later.”
My Dearest Cal Page 7
