“Bet you’d like some corn, too, huh?” she said as she approached the slatted wood fence where he stood. She held it out and Sam curled his lips back, bit down on the corn and began chomping on it heartily. Kendall reached out and smoothed her hand across his mane. She patted his neck and spoke to him soothingly. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Sam? Yes, that’s easy to see. Bet you get lonely in there, though, don’t you?”
Kendall climbed up and over the fence and dropped to the ground inside the corral and stood beside the horse. She continued to talk to him and rub his neck. Sam finished his corn and jerked his muzzle in her direction, then began nuzzling her shoulder. His lips curled back again and moved sporadically over large teeth. Kendall laughed. “You almost look like you’re trying to talk to me.” She reached up and massaged Sam behind his withers. “That feel good, boy?”
It was too bad Kendall hadn’t seen Jackson in the distance as he rounded the cornfield on his own horse or heard him when he rode up into the yard. It would have saved her from yet another display of his anger.
From Jackson’s point of view, all he could see or feel was an immediate urgency to get her out of there. When he realized it was Kendall’s head that bobbed just above the top line of the corral fence, a sudden dread surged through him, as if the fear of God had been injected directly into his veins.
“Get the hell out of there!” he shouted as he galloped up near the fence. He dismounted his horse in one swift movement and rushed over to her.
Alarmed, Kendall climbed over the fence and dropped down to the ground, facing Jackson. “Sorry,” she said. “He looked lonely.”
“Sorry?” Jackson roared at her. “How sorry would you be if that horse had seriously injured you?”
“But, Jackson,” she started.
“I don’t ask much of you, Kendall,” he interrupted her, bellowing loudly, “in fact, I don’t ask anything at all of you while you’re here! The least you could do is honor the one request that I’ve made of you and that is to stay the hell away from that horse!”
Tears sprang to Kendall’s eyes as she began backing away from him. “I’m sorry. But he didn’t seem dangerous to me.”
“That’s for me to decide, not you!”
She backed up a few more steps, wanting nothing but to escape from his anger. She stumbled and fell on her rear. She looked up at him with such abject pain in her eyes. Jackson couldn’t recall ever having made anyone feel bad enough to elicit such a sad look as hers. His jaw slackened and he took a step toward her, reaching out his hand to help her up. “I’m sor—” he attempted, but she scrambled to her feet, the tears welling in her eyes, turned and ran into the house.
Drying her tears with a paper towel, Kendall stood at the sink and looked out the window. She could see Jackson as he led his horse into the stable. “Aggravating damn hothead,” she mumbled to herself. “Cussed, egomaniacal, male chauvinist wart hog.” She opened the cabinet beneath the sink and threw her paper towel into the garbage can with a vengeance. Suddenly, she felt guilty for calling him such names. It was his house and his horse, after all. Then she began to giggle, laughing at herself for her overwrought reaction. Lord, he was a difficult man to figure out. You’d think she’d planted a bomb in the corral, the way he was acting. She shook her head, laughing at the absurdity of it all, including her own behavior.
‘I don’t care whether you think it’s right or not. Once we’re basking in wealth and the sun in St. Lucia, I’ll bet you’ll change your mind pretty quick, darlin’.’
‘Change my mind? Is that what you were counting on all along? That I’d be so overwhelmed by all that money that I’d just stand by and let it happen?’
She felt a hand choking her, her throat closing in as she struggled for breath.
‘What do you think you’re going to do about it? Go to the police? It’s your agency, stupid. You think they won’t believe you played just as big a part in this all along? You won’t get out of this unscathed, you know.’
Kendall clutched the edge of the kitchen sink and doubled over, breathing in deep gulps of air. She could almost feel the fingers around her throat. Where had those thoughts come from? Was it a memory of some movie she’d seen? Or had it really happened? If so, who was choking her?
Kendall leaned over the sink and tried to slow her breathing. She wondered if she should tell Casey Anne about this. No, there was really nothing to tell and it made no sense. Besides, if it were real, the conversation that had just played in her head was too shameful to repeat. Kendall prayed that her past life had not contained such a despicable character. Surely she hadn’t just had an actual memory. There must be some other explanation. But then she’d had that awful nightmare about a man wanting to kill her. Did that tie in with the thoughts she’d just had?
She shook her head as if the whole notion were ridiculous. “Sounds more like a bad movie,” she mumbled to herself as she stood looking out of the window over the sink. She saw Jackson carrying a bale of hay into the stable, and the sight comforted her. She tossed all unpleasant thoughts from her head and began preparations for lunch.
Casey Anne returned shortly and soon after Tom ambled in for the noon meal. No sign of Jackson. He was still in the stable, doing who knows what. When two o’clock rolled around and Jackson still had not come in for lunch, Kendall took the ham back out of the refrigerator. She cut thick slices off and layered it between rye bread with lettuce and tomatoes, then wrapped it in tin foil. She poured iced tea into a thermos and carried everything out to the stable.
She found him in the tack room, cleaning bridles and hanging them neatly on wall hooks. All of the equipment looked as if it had been spit-shined. His back was to her, so she knocked lightly on the open door. Jackson turned around, a look of surprise on his face.
Kendall held out the sandwich and thermos of tea. “I thought you might be hungry.”
He took the sandwich and thermos from her and stood there for a moment, then shifted his weight to his other foot. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she answered, and turned around to leave.
“Wait.”
She turned and looked back at him. “Yes?”
“I acted like an ass before.”
“Yes, I know.”
He laughed and winked at her. “You don’t have to agree with me that readily. You could offer some sort of objection, you know.”
She smiled at one corner of her mouth and said, “You were also right, though. He’s your horse and it’s your home. It’s not my place to question that. If there’s a next time, though, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t yell at me quite so loudly.”
“I’m sorry,” Jackson said sheepishly. “It’s not that I was angry at you. I was more frightened than anything else.”
“I understand that. Casey Anne told me about your wife and the accident with Sam. I’m sorry that had to happen to her. And to you.” Kendall once again turned around to leave. “I’d better get back to the house now. There’s a load of dirty laundry calling me.”
Jackson watched her walk away, then looked down at the sandwich and thermos he held in his hands. He still felt like an ass. ***
Casey Anne busied herself upstairs, cleaning bathrooms and dusting four bedrooms full of furniture. Kendall stripped the sheets from the beds and carried them down to the laundry room. She left the door halfway open so that she could hear the phone if it should ring. She was loading the sheets into the washer when a voice from behind startled her. She whipped her head around and saw that it was Cynthia, who once again had simply entered the house upon her arrival. Cynthia stepped inside the laundry room.
“They keep you pretty busy around here, don’t they?” Cynthia smiled at her from ear to ear.
“Yes,” Kendall responded with a light air of feigned happiness. “A busy maid is a happy maid.”
“You know, I haven’t forgotten what you said to me the last time I was here,” Cynthia said from her perch high among the clouds where princes
ses like her were wont to dwell.
“Oh? What’s that?”
“That catty remark about my figure. It’s obvious you were having a fit of jealousy.”
“Hmm,” Kendall responded thoughtfully, unwilling to be baited by the likes of Cynthia.
“And I would also like to remind you that if either I or my fiancé request anything of you, we expect you to honor that request.”
Now Kendall was stumped. “Your fiancé? Who’s your fiancé?”
“Jackson, of course, as if you don’t know. And I’ve seen the way you behave around him. I’m giving you fair warning right now, you’d best keep your distance from him and your hands to yourself.”
Kendall laughed at that. “My hands haven’t been anywhere near him.” She paused and then added, “Except, of course, when he calls for me to come and wash his back.”
Cynthia immediately turned red, her face resembling the bulb on a thermometer, its mercury about to pop right out the top of her head. Kendall enjoyed the illusion immensely.
“Listen, you piece of trash, you might have the Coleys fooled, but you don’t fool me for one second. I know your kind.”
“I’ll bet you do.”
“You’re nothing but a tramp, preying on the charity of good people. Well, your days are numbered. You’ll be out of here sooner than you think. But while you’re still here, you would be wise not to offend me. You are the maid here and I suggest you remember your place!”
Just then the door swung open with such force that it banged against the interior wall of the laundry room. Jackson stood there, his feet planted apart, with the closest expression to pure hatred Kendall had ever seen on his face.
His voice remained deeply calm, but with a dangerous undertone of a temper that was about to blow. He stared at Cynthia and said slowly, but evenly, “Don’t you ever speak to her that way again.”
Cynthia teetered in her pumps and sputtered as she vainly attempted to regain her stature. “Jackson, I—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” he said through clenched teeth as he cut her off. “I’ve heard enough. I think it’s time you left. And if you ever come back here and speak to her like that again, you are no longer welcome in this house.” With that, he turned and walked through the kitchen and out the back door.
Kendall flinched as she heard the screen door slam. Cynthia hiked her purse higher on her haughty shoulders and fled to the front door. So now he was her fiancé? The better part of Kendall doubted that, but then why was she around here so often, walking in as if she practically lived here. Was there any truth in what she claimed? On the other hand, Jackson and Cynthia didn’t seem to spend a lot of time together. Since Kendall had been here, she’d only noticed that they’d spent an average of once or twice a week together. And most of that seemed to be during Cynthia’s visits to the farm.
Kendall thought again of how angry Jackson had been with Cynthia just now, how he had ordered her out of the house. Would a fiancé behave in such a way? Jackson never spoke about his relationship with Cynthia, and Kendall wasn’t about to ask him about it. Casey didn’t even seem to know for sure what was going on between the two of them, though Kendall would never ask Casey about it, either. One thing was for sure, though. If Jackson and Cynthia were truly engaged, it had to be one heck of a volatile relationship.
***
That night after supper, Kendall stood at the kitchen sink washing dishes, while Jackson dried. Tom and Casey had driven into Athens to catch an early movie. Kendall could sense that Jackson seemed somewhat tense; he’d been quiet and reserved during supper. She was afraid that the confrontation with Cynthia had left him on edge. She also knew that if she hadn’t been here, the whole thing never would have happened. There would have been no reason for Cynthia to resent another woman living in her ‘fiancé’s’ home. Unless, of course, Jackson had a habit of picking up other stray, homeless women with amnesia.
Kendall rinsed the suds off a dinner plate and handed it to Jackson. “I’m really sorry about what
happened this afternoon.” “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. The horse obviously wasn’t hurting you.” “No, I mean the thing with Cynthia,” Kendall corrected him. “Why would you apologize for that? Christ, Kendall, you don’t have to apologize for everything.” “It’s just that I know if I weren’t here, the whole thing wouldn’t have happened in the first place. I
don’t want to be the cause of bad feelings between you and Cynthia.” “Don’t worry about things between Cynthia and me. She’s got a lot to learn about who she has power over.”
Jackson reached over Kendall’s head to put a serving dish on the top shelf of the cabinet over the sink. His chest leaned into her as he stretched his arms up. The nearness of him made her quiver, like it always did. She remembered that night in her bedroom again, after the nightmare, when Jackson had come to her. He had intended to kiss her, she was sure of it. What had changed his mind? She had ached at the thought of kissing him then, just as she ached with the thought of it now. She let out a little sigh and imagined that his reluctance to kiss her might have something to do with the fact that she was a stray, homeless woman with amnesia.
“You okay?” Jackson asked as he took another plate from her>. “Sure. Why do you ask?” “You just sighed as if you were perturbed about something.” “Oh, no. It’s nothing,” Kendall said. “I just hope things are okay with you and Cynthia.” “Things are fine.” He placed the last dry dish into the cupboard and shut the door. Kendall finished wiping off the counter, then rinsed out the dishcloth. She opened the cabinet
door beneath the sink and bent to hang the cloth on the rack there. Jackson studied her movements thoughtfully, then asked, “Feel like watching a video later?” “I’m kind of tired.” She smiled up at him. “I think I’ll just take a long, hot bath, then crawl into
bed and read for awhile.” “Okay. Well, I’m off to the showers, then,” Jackson said as he stretched and headed down the
hallway. He turned back and leaned his head into the kitchen. “Oh, and Kendall,” he called to her. “Hmm?” she asked as she glanced over at him. “Don’t forget to come in later and wash my back.” He gave her that mischievous wink of his and turned around and sauntered off down the hall.
Kendall stood there, her mouth hanging open, aghast that he had heard every bit of the exchange between Cynthia and herself that afternoon.
Chapter 11
>Kendall’s alarm clock went off at five-thirty the next morning. She jumped to reach over and silence it, then crawled out of bed and pulled on jeans and a tee shirt. She tiptoed out of her bedroom and down the hall, carrying her sneakers with her.
Stopping in the kitchen long enough to put on her shoes, Kendall went quietly out the back door so as not to disturb anyone who might still be sleeping. She walked through the backyard to the far side of the corral, breathing in the damp morning air. She climbed up and perched atop the wooden slat of the fence, gazing out to the east and the dense forest. The horses were still in their stalls in the stable. Kendall didn’t dare let them out. Jackson might throw a brick at her this time.
She sat and waited while the darkness slowly began to dissipate into a soft pink and orange glow. The sun peeked out from behind the evergreens, setting them aglow like a wondrous parade of neon lights. A bird chirped its first morning song as another sang back in return. The rooster crowed. Though it was a loud sound that pierced the quiet morning, it strangely comforted Kendall. As the rising sun turned the darkness into a gray dawn, she watched as a frog jumped nearby, in search of more suitable accommodations. The dew clung to bright green leaves, hedges, blades of newly mown grass, and all were cleansed in the freshness of a new day. Kendall closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, savoring the calming peace it all seemed to instill within her.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
She jerked at the sound and turned to see Jackson standing beside her, leaning a shoulder against the fence post. “I set my clo
ck,” she responded.
“Why?” He looked at her quizzically.
She spread out her hands toward the horizon. “For all this,” she said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Yes, it’s very calming.”
“That’s exactly the effect it has on me,” she smiled again and turned to him. “You must feel so fortunate to have all this around you, watching everything come alive each day, all this quiet wondrous nature, to know that it’s all yours and it’s the one thing that no one can ever take from you. It must be a very comforting feeling.”
“You really appreciate all this, don’t you?” he asked her quietly, nodding toward the open fields and forest.
“Who wouldn’t? There’s something so comforting about all these things created by God. Things so sacred. It makes me feel kind of small in the scheme of things, but that’s part of why it’s so
comforting. You know?”
“Yes, I know.” He studied her for another moment. “Do you ride?”
“What?”
“A horse. Have you ridden before?”
Kendall thought about that for a moment. She had no recollection of being on a horse, just as she had no recollection of any events in her life before coming here. Yet, for some unexplained reason, she knew she could ride a horse as much as she knew she could ride a bicycle if someone were to hand her one, just as she knew how to read, write, and do laundry. Well, she certainly must not have cooked much before, because without Casey’s cookbooks, she was sure she would have gotten nowhere. “I think so,” she said in answer to Jackson’s question.
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I can teach you, if you’d like.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s hard to explain, but I’m pretty sure I can ride.”
“Well, wait right there, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Jackson said as he headed off to the stable. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
Jones, Beverly R Page 12
