by Aria Ford
She has secrets. And she respects my secrets too. We are well suited.
She looked at me with those big eyes and I felt somehow like something in my heart tore a little, the edges of a wound opening again.
“Goodnight,” I said, kissing her.
“Goodnight.”
She slid out of the passenger seat and stood at the window. She didn’t move and I didn’t move. She waved after a long while and then I waved. I drove away.
I drove back to the farm with my thoughts reeling, my eyes unseeing. I was still amazed by how deeply she had affected me—how miserable it was going to be, I reflected, being home without her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kelly
I woke up the next morning in the hotel. I was stiff and tired. It had been amazing to sleep in a clean place and my body was groggy with the long, uninterrupted rest. I yawned and hauled myself out of the bathroom, feeling the sunny scene outside the window cheer me up.
Whatever happens, I know Grandpa’s safer in hospital than he would be alone.
I showered and dressed and had breakfast. Over coffee, I started to plan my day. First, I wanted to get to the hospital as close to ward round as I could. I needed to chat with the doctor or the matron and find out when Grandpa could leave the hospital. I wasn’t thinking at the moment about who was paying for all his medical care: I was one person on my own with considerable savings—if I couldn’t use some of them for Grandpa, what would I spend it for? I might even get some of it back in the unlikely event that Grandpa had functioning medical insurance.
“More coffee?”
I smiled at the waiter. “Yes, please.”
Once I’d had two coffees and some delicious breakfast, I was ready with a plan. I’d settle things at the hospital and then go tidy the farmhouse. I wanted to get it ready for Grandpa’s homecoming.
He will be coming home. And before I leave. He’ll recover.
I had to believe it.
As I drove into the town I remembered why I felt so nice. My body felt like a candy bar that had melted, and it was solely a result of my time with Reese. He is the most amazing lover.
I felt my cheeks flush. I found myself thinking a lot about him. He wasn’t just amazing in bed—he was thoughtful and that strong presence made me feel protected. I really did like him.
I reached the hospital just as Doctor Marsden finished rounds.
“Doctor,” I asked. “How’s my grandpa?”
He gave me a reassuring nod. “He’s doing much better. We can discharge him on Friday.”
“On Friday?” Today was Tuesday. That meant he was in there for four days.”
“Yes,” the doctor nodded. “We have him on diuretics—water tablets—and we need to get the fluid balance stable. We’ll need to keep him on the tablets until something can be done about his heart.”
“What needs doing?” I asked, feeling a sinking feeling.
“The ECG shows that he has a severely narrowed coronary artery,” he explained gently. “It’s reducing the heart function quite drastically. He’ll need a stent put in if he’s going to recover.”
“Oh.” I said in a small voice. I felt like the world was getting bigger and bigger, everything spiraling out and up. I held out a hand and he caught me. “Sorry,” I murmured. “Just a surprise, is all.”
“Not at all,” he said gently. “Come. Sit down. Nurse?”
“Yes?”
“Fetch Mrs.—um, Mrs. Gowan, right? Some tea, thanks.”
“Ms. Gowan,” I corrected thinly, but he didn’t seem interested. He was talking gently to me, explaining the procedure in simple terms, trying to reassure me. The nurse arrived with some tea and I was grateful to have something warm and sweet to drink.
When they had both gone, I stood and, shaking myself, walked out of the door to my car. All I wanted was to get home.
It was only when I was almost on the ranch that I realized how much the place meant to me. It was already way homelier than my impersonal pad in LA ever was.
“Home,” I said as I got out. It had a nice feel to it.
I laughed. It wasn’t like that thought really made sense. I was here for a week, no more. Then I would be back in LA and this would be a magic memory. Not part of my humdrum daily life.
I blinked, surprised by how that thought upset me. Then I laughed.
Come on, Kelly. You, living here in the far end of civilization? Not likely. What would you do?
It wasn’t like I could work as a secretary out here, was it?
“Ha.”
I chuckled as I dusted the shelves of the kitchen, then started to cough.
By one o’ clock that afternoon I was starving and the kitchen was clean. I finished the leftovers that were still in the fridge from my first stay and then found my thoughts straying to Reese. He had been so kind yesterday.
I felt an idea brush across my thoughts. The more I thought about it, the more it felt right. I had planned to do some baking for Grandpa and had bought all the ingredients for my chocolate cake recipe. There was easily enough to bake two. What if I made one for Reese, to thank him?
It sounded like a good idea. I rolled my sleeves up to my elbow, preheated the oven—thank Heaven that the oven worked!—and got stuck in.
I went through to the sitting room while the cake cooked, working up a sweat as I brushed the floor. The scent of baking—warm and inviting—wafted through.
I took it out, let it cool, iced it and set off next door, the cake carefully balanced in a bowl on the seat. At the farmhouse, I was surprised to see a group of farmhands standing about. My eye scanned the place, looking for Reese.
I saw him and slid out. The cake reposing in the shallow bowl, all chocolate goodness, I went toward the house.
“Reese?” I called. I was wearing my best blouse—a cream one—with new slacks, and I had washed my hair last night so it shone. I headed through the group of farmhands, looking for Reese.
He looked up when he saw me and his eyes went wide, surprise shining there.
“Kelly!” he said.
“Hi.”
As I came over, one of his farmhands, an obnoxious guy with a sandy-haired, rugged appearance, whistled.
“Woo-hoo! Farmer Reese got a new momma!” He grinned at Reese.
I tensed, feeling offended, but nothing could have prepared me for the response of Reese. He launched himself at the man, fists flying. I screamed as the man took a swing at Reese’s head and then Reese had him down on the ground, hitting his head on the tar.
“Reese!” I shouted. “Reese, stop!”
I could see that if he kept up the onslaught he might kill the guy. The workers seemed to decide the same thing at the same moment, because they all launched themselves at the two men, pulling them apart.
I felt sick as I saw Reese fight to keep his grip on the man. He was growling in his throat, refusing to budge, his hands clasped round the neck of the man as he pressed…
“Reese!” I screamed. I grabbed him and he stood up. His eyes were dark and he growled at me.
“Get away from me!”
His fist was clenched and I stepped back. Would he attack me? I froze in place as I saw his eyes darken and then open again as if just noticing me.
He fell back toward the man on the ground and the others made a grab for his shoulders again.
My own eyes blinking tears of horror, I put the cake on the step in its bowl and ran to my car.
I drove back to the farm next door, not wanting to even think about what I just saw.
I hate violence, I thought. I hate fighting. If that’s what he’s like, so unpredictable, I would rather not know him. Combined with his machismo and his arrogance, it made him really unappealing.
I was still feeling sick when I got into the next-door farmhouse and collapsed on the seat.
It was only about five minutes later, when I had stopped shaking, that it occurred to me to wonder what had happened to Reese or whether or not the farmhands made hi
m stop.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Reese
I was hitting Tom’s head against the floor, growling in my throat. How dare he say that? How dare he try and make a fool out of me? How dare he…
“Bradford!” someone yelled behind me. “Mister Bradford!”
I was growling, feeling as if the strange black rage that lived inside me had possessed me, when someone shouted my name.
“Mister Bradford! Get off him.”
I blinked and stepped back. I realized Sumner had me by the shoulders and was pulling me off. I shrugged away his grip.
“Let me go,” I said.
I felt the rage recede. Suddenly I was exhausted. I stood and staggered back a moment, then shook my head to clear it.
Tom was sitting at the garage, hunched over, lungs rasping. I could hear him cough, each hacking grunt a reproach. I looked at the silent workers and felt the beginnings of shame. It was the rage—the disquiet, dark anger that filled me and never really seemed to leave me. I shivered.
“Everyone,” I said quietly, “let’s get back to work.”
They all looked at me. I realized then that I might as well stop for the day. The storehouse was just not going to get repaired this afternoon. They were all shaken up and I couldn’t say I blamed them.
One of the guys, Bill, laughed.
“Hell, sir,” he said. “Never seen anyone go for someone that hard.”
I gave him my best silencing look. I felt a hollow gratification when it worked. I shook my head.
“Dismissed,” I said quietly. “Let’s all go get some rest. Grant?”
“Mm?”
“How’s he doing?”
“Reckon he’s okay,” my oldest and most sensible laborer—the only guy who worked on the ranch regularly—nodded. “He’ll be fine. No harm done.” He gave me an appraising look. I tensed.
“Fine,” I said thinly. I had the feeling that Grant knew more about me and my rages than he was letting on—probably he’d seen something like that before. He was a sensible fellow.
“Should we take him back to town?” one of them asked. I nodded.
“I’ll drive. It’s about time you all got back,” I said. I always gave a lift back to town to my day laborers—it was the least I could do.
They all nodded, looking uncomfortable. I noticed no one wanted to talk. I went to get my keys, and they climbed onto the pickup, quiet and subdued. One of them was giving their wounded fellow water and I winced, seeing how he didn’t look at me and neither did the others.
The drive to town was slow and uncomfortable. I left them near the center of town, where I always had in the past, and they jumped off, grave and unsmiling.
I drove off feeling like a pariah. It was my luck it was informal labor. If I’d gone for an employee like that, I’d likely get myself sued. Or in trouble with the union, or damn well arrested.
Reese, you loser.
I was sick with shame when I got off and went into my house. I found the cake on the doorstep. Swallowing hard, jaw clenching, I took it inside.
I don’t know why I snapped like that. I did, really. That mocking tone was the same mocking I was faced with every day, in my own head, when I thought about Parker and Hewitt. I’d let them die. I was weak, a coward. The last thing I’d wanted was for Kelly to think of me like that. I wanted her to see me as a strong man.
As I thought that, I frowned. I thought girls were supposed to like men who were strong willed and domineering. But she had looked at me like I was despicable. I grunted. I’ll never understand women!
I put the cake in the kitchen and went to the sitting room. There, I flopped down in the dusky dark of the place—it was oriented east and never saw sun past midday—and closed my eyes.
What does Kelly think of me?
Worse than the impending possibility of a lawsuit, worse than letting myself down, worse, even, than the shame, was that thought. I’d made her see my worst side. Now she would hate me. How could she not?
I sighed. “Why not?” It was for the best. I wanted her to keep away from me. Now she would.
I sat in the dark for a long while. My memories filled with Kelly, and I found myself feeling bad. I liked her. I liked her a lot. Maybe I’d misunderstood. Maybe she wasn’t so much angry with me as frightened. I decided to call her.
“Kelly?” No answer. I hung up.
I waited five minutes—perhaps she was out—and called again. “Kelly?” I sighed. “Answer me.”
But she didn’t. I put the phone away, my mood dark. I went through to the kitchen. It was only three o’ clock in the afternoon but I already felt sick and tired of being awake. I realized I hadn’t made lunch and I set about making some. I heard my message tone and went running through to the sitting room to fetch it.
It was Jackson.
“Oh, for crying…” I swore. I had really wanted it to be Kelly. But there was no message from her.
I ate lunch in the kitchen, restless and straining to hear my phone. I kept on thinking she might call me. But she didn’t. I answered Jackson’s message—he was suggesting we spent Saturday in town together—and he phoned.
“Hello?” I said tiredly.
“Hey,” he replied. His voice was that easy, calm voice I remembered. “Long time no hear.”
I chuckled hollowly. “Yeah. Listen, Jacks; I’m in a bad place right now.”
“Oh.” a pause. “Should I go away? You want to talk?”
I sighed. I wanted to swear and yell and possibly throw things. But of the two proffered options, talking was better than sitting here broodingly. “Yes,” I said.
He laughed. “What’s happening, man?” He sounded concerned and I felt myself relax.
“Well, it’s like this. I met a girl a couple days ago.”
“Mm?”
I liked the neutral reply. “And, well, it’s driving me mad. On the one hand, I think she likes me. But then, on the other hand, she’s all…weird.”
“Weird.”
“Yeah. Like…she blew up at me when I said girls don’t do farmwork, and then again when we had a bit of a disagreement about something, and then today, when I lost it a bit…”
“Why is this weird?” he asked candidly. I sighed.
“I guess when I just say it like it is, it doesn’t sound weird. But, like…” I paused, feeling as if there was some fundamental point Jackson pointedly missed. “Like, I’m just being a guy.”
Jackson chuckled. “Some girls don’t like feeling put down, Bradford.”
“I didn’t put her down! I was treating her like, well…like a girl.”
“That’s what I mean.”
I frowned at that. “How’d you mean?”
He whistled. “Lieutenant, I don’t remember you having a head as thick as an armor-plated truck. But there’s something here you don’t understand. Girls are people. Not some strange weaker sex. Let that idea go back to the end of the last century.”
I sighed. None of this made sense. The way I had been raised was to treat girls differently to guys. They were weaker than us, after all. And guys had to be strong, and brave, and unfeeling…
And you’re so strong and brave aren’t you, Lieutenant Bradford. You’re so heroic you let your own men get blown up and didn’t save them.
I ground my teeth.
“Jackson?” I said.
“Yes, Lieutenant Bradford?”
“You’re an ass,” I said. He laughed.
“Maybe. But I’m not wrong.”
I sighed. “Maybe.”
“Well, I’m right but you don’t have to believe it. Now, am I going to see you Saturday?”
I sighed. I felt profoundly nihilistic. I was fed up with myself, fed up with him. Fed up with everything in this world that made no sense and confused the hell out of me. Which, right now, meant everything in it. Nothing made sense…
“Maybe,” I said.
He chuckled. “Good. See you at the Green Mill pub?”
“Maybe,” I
said.
He sighed. “See you, lieutenant. And…take care. Bye!”
“Bye.”
I held down the button as if I wanted to strangle it. I was feeling angry and restless. Jackson hadn’t helped. Why’d he take her side? She was being unreasonable. I was in the right in my views—all I’d done was be a man: aggressive, combative, reactive.
Yeah. And if that was the standard of manhood, a voice said in my head, Captain Soames would be Man of the Decade.
Captain Soames had been one of our most hated officers. He had been known to run men to heat exhaustion, and he was a merciless bully who’d been shot down in heavy fire in the first engagement in the hills. We all suspected that one of his own men had taken him out, but of course no one said it. We all hated him.
I had to agree that, by the standard of masculinity my father had imposed, Captain Soames would have made the grade. But he was easily the most despicable person I’d ever met; a petty, arrogant tyrant. Would I want to be like him? Was I like him?
“I don’t even know anything anymore.”
I went through to the kitchen. It was four P.M. and early, but I decided to have a beer. I cracked it open and drank, feeling my nerves relax. The feeling of tightly wound tension dissolved. I laughed cheerfully. There were plenty of beers in the fridge. If one made me feel better, the rest would only make me feel better still.
What else was I going to do tonight?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kelly
I didn’t want to stay at the farm. I drove back to my hotel, my eyes blinded with tears. I was shaking when I got out and went up the stairs to my room.
“I have never felt like that in my life.”
Even the most unpleasant of my boyfriends had never actually threatened to hit me before. I was shuddering. He hadn’t actually done anything to me, but the look in his eyes had been so wild that there had been a moment when I thought he would. I was still shivering as I took off my clothes and got into the bath. I needed to calm down.
I lay back and looked up at the ceiling, thinking about what had happened. I should have seen it coming. From the first day I met him, Reese had been arrogant and domineering. He had acted like I was silly and weak, just because I was a woman. He’d changed since then, or so I’d thought.
