Reece

by Lori Wilde

  “You ought to know. I’ll never forget that game in our senior year in high school when half the Lakeview football team piled on top of you and broke two of your ribs.”

  Lanie recalled how Reece had dodged the maddened cow and gave silent thanks for his football experience.

  “What I don’t understand,” said Lanie, “is why Number Twelve charged us. Before that, she had been so gentle, even with all the things Karl and Reece did to her.”

  Lou took the washcloth from Reece and flung it toward the sink. “This was Twelve’s first calf. Maternal instinct must’ve kicked in kind of strong. It happens sometimes.” She lifted the baby from the playpen and took her from the room.

  Lou’s singing drifted to them from the baby’s room. Reece handed Lanie the tube of antibiotic cream. A barely suppressed grin deepened the creases of his cheeks. “It hurts when I move.”

  Lanie wondered if he was faking. She dismissed the notion with the reasoning that he was probably in too much pain to enjoy her doctoring.

  Even so, she felt uneasy about it. Slathering a washcloth over that stupendous chest had been one thing. But without the barrier of the fabric—a defensive shield—between her fingers and his skin, she feared she might want to touch more than his chest.

  She remembered his kiss, the feel of his lips on hers, his fingers gently resting on the small of her back. Even without a mirror, she knew her cheeks were pinkening.

  Gritting her teeth, she squirted a glob of cream onto her fingertips, then smoothed the salve over the reddened areas of his chest.

  He never flinched.

  “Don’t forget here,” he said, pointing to an angry red nipple. When Lanie hesitated, he feigned innocence. “It hurts,” he insisted. “You don’t want it to get infected, do you?”

  She sighed. He knew all the right strings to pull, and he wasn’t above using that knowledge. But to what end?

  She honestly didn’t know. Reece had no interest in her. She’d known that since the day he’d adamantly rejected his mother’s suggestion to ask Lanie to the banquet.

  True, he’d joked around with her and made teasing innuendos as he had the day he’d removed her splinters. But as much as she tried to downplay the attraction that sparked between them, she couldn’t explain away his reaction to their kiss. He’d been as deeply affected as she was. Of that, she was certain.

  She recalled Howard’s words the day he’d accidentally intruded on their conversation. It’s about time. Had Reece been without a woman’s company for so long he would have reacted that way with any female?

  She pushed aside the thought and touched the cooling salve to his skin. Massaging the spot he indicated, she worked the cream past the thick sprinkling of golden hairs and into the scrapes.

  Reece reached out, his fingers closing around Lanie’s hand and placed her palm above the unhurt left side of his chest. She could have danced a Mexican hat dance to the fast-paced beat of his heart.

  Lanie frowned. “I had no idea your run-in with Number Twelve frightened you so. Your pulse is racing like a runaway train.”

  Reece closed his eyes and drew in a slow, harsh breath. When he opened them again, he turned his chocolate-brown gaze on Lanie. He seemed only fractionally more composed as he removed her hand from his heart. He cupped her small hand in both of his.

  “Frightened? No.” He shook his head. “Terrified is more like it.”

  A sad smile touched his lips.

  “It’s like your whole life flashes before your eyes,” he said, “and you think, ‘I’ve lived thirty-one years, and it has to happen like this.’ One wrong move and, wham! she almost rips your heart out. Kinda makes you wonder if God’s just playing a big joke.”

  Lanie wasn’t certain who she was, but she doubted Reece was referring to the cow. Their eyes connected. Windows to the soul, her grandmother had called them. Lanie couldn’t name what she saw in those windows, but for some reason the glimpse unsettled her.

  An uncomfortable feeling passed through her, and she slowly withdrew her hand from his.

  Lou entered the room and crossed to the refrigerator. “I made that banana nut bread especially for you, and you haven’t even tasted it.” Retrieving the butter and two colas, she then plucked a knife from the drying rack and set the lot on the table between them. “You expect me to treat you like company or something?”

  Lanie and Karl unloaded the Wertzles’ order from the truck. The rest of the deliveries were made quickly with Lanie and the farmers doing the lifting.

  A disgruntled Reece waited in the truck cab at each stop, barking instructions to Lanie. She shrugged off his gruffness, chalking it up to his aching ribs and feeling of helplessness.

  Lanie steered the truck to the back of the shop and braked to a slightly jerky stop. She smiled in satisfaction at the progress she’d made with just a half-day’s practice at driving it. She might win the bet after all.

  Walking ahead of Reece, she reached out to open the door for him. But before her fingers touched the knob, the heavy metal door swung open. Violet emerged and tossed the gray cat like tepid dishwater onto the grassy lawn.

  “Go catch a mouse,” she admonished. “Make yourself useful.” Violet briskly brushed her hands together as if ridding herself of an unsavory pest.

  Tucking a stray hair under her trademark triangle scarf, she turned to Reece. “Don’t ask,” she said. “Just follow me.”

  Lanie and Reece exchanged glances and followed her into the store. Lanie got the sinking feeling that, whatever had happened, Winnie was behind it.

  Sure enough, Winnie stood tied to Lanie’s desk. The long rope allowed the animal to roam outside the office, but when Violet picked up a broom, the little horse quickly retreated.

  “She’s kinda skittish ’cause I swatted her once on the backside,” Violet explained as she turned her attention to the grain sacks cluttering the floor.

  Lanie groaned.

  Reece muttered something unrepeatable.

  Since Lanie had started bringing Winnie to the store, the staff had made certain there was always a pile of bags for the animals to curl up on. Usually it was grass seed or fertilizer where they’d found a place to sleep. Today it had been horse feed.

  Grain spilled from a dozen or more bags onto the speckled tile floor.

  Lanie put a hand to her forehead and surveyed the mess. She knew Reece wouldn’t be out of line if he fired her for this.

  Her glance flew to the obvious culprit of this crime. Winnie’s ears perked forward, but the black mischief-maker dared not step a foot out of the office, not with Violet wielding the broom so close by.

  Reece picked up a new shovel from the rack and started scooping the loose feed into a wheelbarrow. Lanie could see him grimace with pain each time he lifted the heavy weight.

  She put a hand on his arm to stop him.

  “Please, Reece, you shouldn’t exert yourself. Let me do that. It’s the least I can do.”

  He hesitated long enough to throw her an angry look and went back to shoveling. “Why don’t you just take your horse and go home,” he said.

  She was right. He was firing her. But she couldn’t let that happen. This job was too important to her. It would be impossible to earn enough at a temporary agency to pay the mortgage on her house. And that was if she could get a job at all after losing three jobs in a row.

  But there was more at stake than money. This was the first time she’d worked for a small, family-owned company. Here, in the course of only two weeks, Lanie felt like an integral part of the operation.

  She’d already implemented a few procedural changes that had streamlined inventory control. And she was thinking ahead to ways in which the accounts could be computerized. Reece couldn’t let her go now. He needed her, even if he didn’t know it yet.

  But even more, Lanie knew, she needed this job. What other company would let her bring her horse to work with her? Still, after today, even if she managed to talk Reece into changing his mind about firing her,
she might no longer be able to enjoy that fringe benefit.

  And more than missing the fringe benefits and job satisfaction, Lanie knew that leaving Reece—not seeing him every day, not looking for him, however surreptitiously, when she arrived each morning—would hurt the most. She’d no longer wake up each morning full of anticipation and eager to start the day.

  How had it come to this point in just two short weeks? It was wrong for her to feel this way about Reece, she knew. They were too different, too incompatible. Even their sun signs said so.

  Maybe it was best that it end this way. In the long run, she’d be freed of a lot of agony.

  Lanie stepped over the scattered grain. In the office, she picked up her coffee mug and unfastened the lead from Winnie’s halter. “Come on, nuisance. Let’s go home and replan our future.”

  With a heavy heart, she left the tiny office that had become her domain. She had even heard Reece tell Howard one day to leave some order forms in “Lanie’s office.”

  She stiffened her back and slowly walked past where Violet and Reece were still cleaning up. Winnie gave wide berth to Violet and her broom.

  “Reece…”

  He lifted another shovelful and dumped it into the wheelbarrow. Breathing hard, he set the shovel down and rested one forearm on the handle. The eyes that held hers were no longer angry, but neither were they cordial. They looked weary, and Lanie knew she was to blame.

  The feeling of togetherness they’d experienced in the barn today and afterwards when she’d tended his scrapes had dissipated. Now, Lanie felt like the enemy.

  “I’ll pay for all the broken bags. My checkbook is at home…” She trailed off as she suddenly realized her account held nowhere near enough to cover the cost. Maybe he’d let her pay for it over a period of time. Now, however, was not the time to ask.

  “Wait a minute.” He dug into his pocket and extracted the truck keys. “Would you mind driving me home? I’m not exactly in shape to shift gears.” He tenderly touched his side.

  “Sure, I’d be glad to, but my car—”

  “It’ll be fine here,” he said, handing her the keys. “Besides, you’re going to need the weekend to practice driving the Masardi-mobile. Howard, you’ll close up for me, won’t you?” he called out. “Thanks. I’ll see you Monday.”

  Howard gave him an incredulous look. “You’re not working tomorrow?”

  “Nah. I’ve got a project to take care of.” He touched a hand to the small of Lanie’s back and guided her outside to the truck.

  When he opened the truck door, Winnie leaped in and clambered over toward the driver’s side.

  “The horse rides in the back,” said Reece.

  Lanie got in and poked the keys into the ignition. “Don’t be ridiculous. Winnie always rides up front with me. Of course, it appears that there are only two seat belts. I don’t suppose you could share yours?”

  Reece flung her a scowl that could have melted granite.

  “I didn’t think so.” Lanie glanced back at the truck bed. The missing tailgate left an opening that looked as dangerous as a mountaintop precipice.

  She could easily picture her curious horse nosing close to the edge and then being pitched out as the truck took a curve.

  “No. I can’t let her ride back there,” she said finally.

  Reece peered at her from behind the hand he’d rested his forehead on. “Why not? Barney always rides in the back.”

  “Barney?”

  “The cat. We found him in the barn behind the shop.”

  “Oh.” An odd feeling of relief settled in her at the knowledge that Reece had named the cat. At least he wasn’t so rigid that he’d let his pet go without the social amenity of owning a name. “Why don’t you let Barney ride up front?” she countered.

  “Did once. He got under the brake.” Reece straightened and then leaned against the elbow support on the door. “The big dent on the right front fender is my memento of the event.”

  He took a deep breath and sank into the seat, closing his eyes as his head came to rest against the cracked red vinyl upholstery.

  As big as he was, his posture reminded her of a little boy of long ago. A picture of her younger brother filled her mind. Her family had driven home at dusk, after a picnic supper following an exhausting day of swimming at the lake. Donnie’s eyes, puffy from sunburn and water, had slowly drooped closed.

  When the six-year-old’s head had nodded forward against his chest, Lanie had slipped her arms around his small shoulders and cuddled him close. Though only ten at the time, she’d felt protective toward both of her brothers.

  For some unfathomable reason, she felt the urge to slip her arms around Reece’s shoulders and lay his sleepy head against her breast.

  Lanie sighed. Dragging her eyes away from the sleeping man, she cranked the engine. It took three attempts to find first gear, but the rest of the drive home was uneventful.

  Walter’s Lincoln occupied the driveway across the road. Lanie thought she noticed a movement of Dot’s curtains but ignored it as she hopped out and focused her attention on opening the truck door for a groggy Reece.

  “Thanks,” he said, and she handed him the keys.

  She stood for a moment, wondering whether to follow him in and … and what? Tuck him in?

  What was the matter with her? Here it was, less than an hour after she’d been relieved of her job, and what was she doing? Trying to play nursemaid to her ex-employer! It led Lanie to wonder which she was more deficient in—common sense or pride.

  Probably both.

  Reece had unlocked his front door, but he didn’t go in. His eyes caught hers and held them. For a long moment they regarded each other until Reece broke the silence.

  “I assume you did okay driving us home since it looks like we arrived here in one piece. Maybe you’ll win that bet after all.” A weak smile touched his mouth but didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll feel more like coaching you tomorrow, but right now, I’m bushed. Guess I overdid it with the shovel.”

  How could he do this—act like nothing had happened? He had fired her, for crying out loud.

  “Look, Reece, why don’t we just forget this silly bet. I’ll ask Dot to give me a ride to my car. There’s no reason for you to—”

  “We made a bet,” he said firmly. “If you back out now, you forfeit, and I win. Are you prepared to pay up?”

  The terms of the bet had been that the loser deliver one huge favor. If she won, she could forget the paint job and demand a second chance at her job. And since the bet only ran until Monday, she might not even miss a day of work.

  “We made a deal,” she said. “If I win, I’ll expect you to pay up as promised.”

  “Masardis never welsh.”

  9

  It started out as restlessness. When it progressed to hiccupping and pacing, Lanie grew worried. By midnight, Winnie was thrashing and pawing at the living room floor.

  Something was desperately wrong with her, but Lanie didn’t know what. What was the name of that veterinarian? She flipped rapidly through the Bliss phone directory, but the words all seemed to run together.

  She picked up the cell phone and spoke into it. “Run a search for veterinarians in Bliss County.” But for some reason, all she got back were veterans’ organizations.

  Winnie groaned and lay on her side, her fuzzy black body lathered with sweat.

  “Forget it.” Lanie dialed the first three digits common to all Bliss phone listings. Maybe Reece would know what to do. Hadn’t his father run a farm when Reece was a kid? And he had seemed very competent when helping deliver the calf.

  Were his last four numbers 4763 or 6743? Why hadn’t she entered it into her address book when he’d given it to her?

  Winnie groaned again.

  Lanie slammed down the phone in frustration. “Don’t worry, baby,” she soothed her pet, “Mommy’s going to get help.”

  She shot out the kitchen door and took the rail fence like a track star. Racing up her n
eighbor’s porch steps two at a time, she simultaneously rang the bell and banged on the door.

  “Reece, wake up!” She rapped her knuckles against the door until they were sore.

  Reece finally appeared, hair rumpled and clad only in undershorts. Flipping the porch light on, he squinted down at her, taking in the thin cotton nightgown that barely concealed her curves. His eyebrows furrowed together in apparent confusion.

  “Reece, are you awake?” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “I need your help.”

  Her panicky words must have penetrated his foggy brain. He grabbed her by the upper arms, his fingers pinching into her soft flesh.

  “What’s the matter? Are you okay?” he demanded.

  “It’s Winnie. She’s sick.”

  His grip relaxed, and Reece rubbed her arms where he’d held her.

  “Go stay with her. I’ll be there as soon as I find my pants.”

  He was only a minute behind her, but it seemed more like hours. Lanie sat cross-legged on the floor, holding Winnie’s head in her lap and trying to calm the frantic horse when Reece burst in. In her agony, the little animal moved her hooves repeatedly.

  “It’s colic,” said Reece. “Get some mineral oil. Then we’ll take her outside to walk her.”

  “Walk her! She can hardly stand. Can’t you see she’s suffering?”

  Reece grabbed the lead from the top of the oil circulator that dominated the living room. Snapping it onto the halter, he said, “That picnic your horse had today is coming back to haunt her. I don’t want to worry you, but I’ve seen horses die of colic. It’s especially dangerous in one as young as Winnie.”

  He bent and lifted the horse from her lap.

  “We’ve got to keep her moving,” Reece said in a gentler tone. “If we let her lie down, her gut will twist.”

  Lanie grabbed the mineral oil from the pantry. She followed him out into the yard, fear seeping into every part of her body, and helped administer the dose.

  Winnie was the last thing her father had given her. Lanie had bottle-fed her, gotten up every couple of hours to feed her when the animal was younger. She loved the little rascal. If anything happened to her…