A Conard County Baby

by Rachel Lee

  “You need baby steps for a lot of things,” Angie groused, but at least going for a ride seemed more important than riding the most spirited mount in the stalls.

  Hope didn’t disagree with her. “I love horses. I’ve always loved horses. Don’t you?”

  Angie’s response was a grunt, but once they began to ride away from the barn her mood seemed to settle and improve.

  It was, Hope thought, hard to remain upset about much while swaying on the back of a good-tempered horse under a cobalt sky on a brisk day.

  But she had a lot to think about now, and she wondered how much she should share with Cash. She also felt closer to Angie than she would have believed possible just a day ago. They had a lot in common, and she chewed that over as she enjoyed the wonderful feeling of riding again.

  The girl needed a confidante, a friend. Someone to whom she could open up that pain so tightly locked in her, pain that right now emerged only as anger.

  But who was she to talk? She was harboring a tight knot of anger, pain and fear herself, and she hadn’t dared share it even with a friend. Sometimes it was easier to talk to a stranger. Cash had been right about that.

  But apart from talking, she wasn’t even thinking. Not really. She’d been reacting for months now, but never dealing with the reality of all that had happened to her. It was as if she remained in a state of shock, hardly absorbing the events of her own life, just putting one foot in front of the other as each new wrinkle arose.

  She was living in a self-protective crouch. That had to change.

  * * *

  Angie withdrew after their ride. She did stay to help with currying and cleaning the horses’ hooves, which would surely please her father. It probably helped that Ed showed up to compliment her on the job she was doing, and it might have helped some that Hope took it as a given that they would care for their own mounts.

  But then Angie vanished into her room, appearing only once to grab a sandwich and some chips before quickly disappearing without a word. Hope could only imagine what she was doing. From time to time she thought she heard the sounds of a TV, possibly a movie. The girl needed more in her life, but Hope couldn’t imagine how to add it.

  Of course, she needed more herself. Being under house arrest at home, there had still been things to occupy her. Here there was nothing familiar to her, no way to amuse herself other than reading or TV. She was used to a busier life, and had assumed Angie would keep her running except for when she was in school.

  Now time hung heavy on Hope’s hands, a new experience for her. She’d left behind her art projects, the hours she had once liked to spend designing clothes or painting landscapes. She had no friends to call and chat with, no golf outings, none of the multitude of ways she had filled her days.

  Which left her plenty of time to think about what had happened to her, and to begin to suspect that a busy life wasn’t necessarily a full life.

  Yes, she’d volunteered with charities, but her role had always been above it all in a sense. She organized food for the poor and homeless; she didn’t actually cook it or dole it out. She sat on boards, never getting into the nitty-gritty. Most of the time she’d mainly been a recognizable name on the letterhead and a donor.

  In short, she was used to being busy, but unfamiliar with herself. The thought jolted her. How little time she’d had to really discover who she was. From earliest childhood, she’d been entertained and occupied. She’d learned a whole lot about some things and nothing about herself, really.

  Would the real Hope Conroy please stand up? The bitter question floated into her awareness. She was, as the saying went, a person doing, not a person being. There had always been a goal, a task, an appearance to make. Take riding, for example. Never before today had she just meandered on horseback. No, she had always been involved in training of herself and her mount.

  So today had been a first for her, riding with no goal, no destination, no purpose other than to enjoy herself.

  On impulse, she went upstairs and knocked on Angie’s door. She heard the TV volume go down and Angie say querulously, “Yeah?”

  Hope opened the door and peered in. Angie sat against a big pile of pillows on her bed, surrounded by what looked like schoolbooks. “Do you know yourself?”

  Angie nearly gaped. “What do you mean?”

  “I was just wondering. Because among the many things I don’t know, I just realized I don’t know myself.”

  Angie half shrugged. “What’s to know? I’m just me.”

  “I’m not even sure who me is, if you get my meaning. I think I’m a mess.”

  “Who isn’t,” Angie said glumly. “You need a shrink.”

  “Maybe so. Sorry I bothered you.” Hope closed the door quietly and started back downstairs. What had possessed her to go up there and ask such a stupid question? She was sure most people would have gaped at her.

  But then, before she reached the top of the steps, she heard a door open behind her.

  “Hope?” Angie’s voice reached her and she turned. “You need someone to talk to?”

  “A shrink, probably.” But the offer touched her. “Thanks, Angie. It’s kind of disturbing to realize I’ve never had the time to figure myself out.”

  Angie hesitated. “Do any of us?” Then she disappeared back into her room.

  Good question, Hope thought as she continued her way downstairs. A very good question.

  * * *

  By the end of the week, the days had settled into a rhythm for Hope. Hattie came on Monday and Wednesday and gave her lessons in cooking and a good directed workout with cleaning. There was an interesting moment with Hattie, though.

  “Hope?” she said as they made their way to the first bathroom. “You’re pregnant.”

  It wasn’t a question. Startled, Hope froze. “Does it show?”

  “Only to eyes that can see. I don’t want you handling these bathroom chemicals. I use the strong stuff and I’m not sure it’s safe. You check with the doctor and see, okay?”

  So Hope gave up on cleaning the bathrooms and settled for vacuuming, which soon started to feel like an almost Zen escape. It was certainly something she could do adequately.

  Angie didn’t create any more scenes, although she remained cocooned in frost. Cash seemed to be working most of his waking hours, although he kept saying things would lighten up soon, once he had everything ready for winter.

  When she remarked that she needed more to do while Angie was at school, he guided her into his office. “Can you do data entry? I take a lot of notes. If you can read my handwriting, I’d sure like to not have to type it in. I’m ham-fingered when it comes to typing.”

  Inevitably, she looked at his hands and noticed with a twinge of longing how strong they looked. Her reaction startled her and was utterly unwelcome. First of all, this man was her boss. But more importantly, she knew full well that she hadn’t dealt with her rape. Even if she was still capable of feeling desire, she suspected that at the first touch she’d fly into a panic.

  She dragged her gaze back to the computer as he explained the first of the things he needed her to do in the morning, but she couldn’t drag her awareness back. She’d noticed before that he was an attractive man, but having him lean over her as she sat at his desk made her acutely aware of her own longings. One of his hands rested on the back of her chair as he leaned toward the keyboard to punch keys, showing her how to do things.

  She felt surrounded by him, and two competing tensions rose in her. His masculine scent filled her nostrils; her insides ached to know the pleasure he might give her. At the same time fear caused her heart to hammer. Her mouth turned dry as sand, and her palms grew damp. She froze.

  All of a sudden, he straightened. “I’m sorry,” he said, and walked out.

  She remained frozen for what felt like an endless time,
but was probably less than a minute. Caught in a web of conflicting needs and fears, her brain reacted like a startled deer. Then his words penetrated.

  Her limbs moved again and she jumped up. She found him in the living room, sitting in his easy chair, staring off into space. He barely glanced her way when she entered the room.

  She licked her lips and managed to speak a few words over the hammering of her heart. Everything warned her not to pursue this, but she couldn’t ignore it, either. “Sorry for what?”

  “You were getting tense. I could feel it. Then it suddenly struck me that a woman who was raped only a few months ago probably didn’t want any man within arm’s distance. So I apologized.”

  He still wasn’t looking at her. She edged into the room, wondering just how honest she dared to be. But this man had been kind to her, giving her a job and a place to live, and tomorrow morning he was even taking her to a doctor...at his own expense. She owed him something more than evasions, and certainly she hadn’t yet broken the wall of ice his daughter had erected, a wall that had troubled him enough to reach out for help. He could, after all, have just shrugged it away, an act far less cruel that what her parents had done to her.

  She edged in closer and perched on the edge of the sofa. It was a serviceable piece of furniture, like most of the furnishings around here, showing some wear but still functional. She ran her hand over the arm, thinking of the differences between her past and this man’s. He’d worked for everything he had, and it wasn’t a whole lot. In one week, she’d come to know just how hard and time-consuming that work was. To keep things going, he had three hired hands and a part-time cook and housekeeper. All four must stretch his budget, but for the sake of his daughter he’d taken on yet another employee, someone he hoped might at least give his daughter a friend.

  “Did you pay child support?” she asked. The question popped out of her, and startled her as much as him. Finally he looked at her.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “It wasn’t always easy, was it?”

  “Important stuff is rarely easy. Some years it was easier than others. What does it matter? Angie needed it.”

  “Did they live better in Arizona than they did here?”

  “From what I saw, but that depends on what you consider better. It was important to Sandy to be close to other people. She was ranch raised, so I didn’t expect it to become a problem, but after Angie was born, her mobility was reduced. She couldn’t get to town as easily, couldn’t see as much of her friends. I think she started to suffer from loneliness. And maybe I was a fool. I was working all the time, just like now. I assumed too much, I guess.”

  “But you don’t have a choice about how much you work.”

  “Not really. Not if I want to keep this place and pay the bills.”

  She turned that around in her mind, realizing that in a way he’d just warned her. Why he should find that necessary she didn’t know. After all, she was just here to look after his daughter. She didn’t even know how long he’d want to keep her around.

  “What about you?” he asked abruptly. “Always looking for something else to work on... You about done with the isolation?”

  “Are you asking if I want to leave?”

  “Well, you’ve had a week of it and don’t seem happy just hanging around.”

  “Funny you should put it that way.” She sighed. “It’s true I’m used to being busy. But there’s all kinds of busy, and I can see a whole lot of things around here that I’d do if I knew how. I don’t have to sit around staring out the windows. I don’t want to. But I’m happy working with Hattie and spending time with Angie, and I’m sorry if I overstepped by asking if there was something more I could do.”

  “You didn’t overstep.”

  Silence fell again. She nearly sighed, realizing for the first time that this kind and generous man had nearly as many walls as his daughter. Sandy’s desertion must have hit him deeply. He was already looking for reasons for her to want to leave.

  “Well, I don’t want to leave,” she announced. “I’m enjoying learning new things, but most of all I enjoy feeling useful.”

  His brow arched. “You didn’t feel useful before?”

  “Not very often. I was a decoration, a name to be used, a social butterfly who was supposed to make the right connections with the right people. For a politician’s wife, that would all be useful, but that’s not going to happen now, and I’m kind of surprised how little I miss it. There was a pointlessness to it that I didn’t even realize. At least not until I started thinking about this baby’s future. I wonder if I would have remained stupidly oblivious if matters hadn’t blown up.”

  He didn’t answer for a while. She couldn’t tell if he was thinking about what she had said, or about something else, like Angie. Or his ex. Sandy had probably left him with a lot of unanswered questions about the kind of man he was.

  She sure had a lot of questions about what kind of woman she was. Had been, would become. Reflecting on her past didn’t make her very proud, though. Some part of herself had begun to feel she hadn’t been put in this world with no purpose other than to fulfill the expectations of others.

  But maybe that was depressed thinking. She supposed Cash could be sitting over there contemplating the same questions, like sacrificing everything to this ranch. What was the point?

  Maybe that was the wrong question to ask.

  When he didn’t speak again, she gathered her courage and addressed the issue that had caused her to come in here. “I’m sorry I was getting tense,” she said. “I wasn’t afraid of you. You don’t need to worry about that.”

  “Maybe you should,” he said, his mouth twisting.

  Her heart climbed right into her throat and began pounding, almost choking her.

  “You see,” he said, “while I know I have more self-control than your Scott did, and I’d never touch you without permission, I still find myself wanting you.”

  The bald admission stole the rest of her breath. All she could do was stare at him blankly, unable to even react.

  “So, that’s part of what I was apologizing for. I’ll keep my distance, but you might as well know. Now that you do, if you get uneasy about staying here, just tell me. I’ll see that you leave here with enough in your pocket to go somewhere else you can feel safer.”

  With that he rose, bade her good-night and climbed the stairs.

  Stunned, Hope sat on in solitude, her mind spinning, her heart filled with his blunt admission. Astonishingly, she didn’t at all feel like running.

  * * *

  Well, that had sure torn it, Cash thought as he stood in the dark in his bedroom staring out over a peaceful night. He could see the shadows of his herd, clustered for the night, the more swiftly moving shadows of the dogs as they patrolled. Above all, a diamond-studded moonless sky seemed to shower grace.

  Inside, he felt anything but peaceful or grace-filled. For the past week he’d been struggling with his desire for Hope, but that didn’t mean he needed to tell her. Warn her. He knew the limits of his self-control, and they were far beyond any threat Hope posed to them. He’d never touch her unless she wanted it.

  But having her around was kind of like having a burr under his saddle, and she might as well know it. She might better understand if he got irritable or if he withdrew inexplicably, the way he had tried to do tonight. Or she might move on. He’d be sorry if she did, because if nothing else she seemed to be pouring some oil on the troubled waters of his relationship with Angie. Yeah, the deep freeze was still turned up high, but the fights had disappeared. He wondered how long that would last. Icy civility was easier to deal with than the rages and rants.

  None of which indicated that Angie was getting any better, and that was another thing that gnawed at him ceaselessly. Damn, he was surrounded by women who were apt to drive him to the ed
ge of madness.

  He should have been laughing at himself, but tonight that didn’t seem easy. He’d thought he was hiring Hope because he felt sorry for her, and because he wanted a woman closer to Angie’s age. Hattie sure hadn’t made any breakthroughs with the girl. There might even be too many years between Angie and Hope to be real buddies, but maybe there weren’t so many that they couldn’t get closer. Like sisters, maybe.

  At least that’s what he had told himself. Now he wondered if his libido had played a major part in his decision. He hoped not. The woman had been raped and impregnated. She’d been through hell with her fiancé and her family. He hoped he was a better man than to hire her just because she turned him on.

  Didn’t matter, anyway, he told himself brutally. Even if she felt an attraction to him, even if she could overcome her experience with Scott, where would that get them? He’d still be the same work-all-the-time rancher and she’d probably get really tired of this place, especially come winter. Right now it was all new and fresh. Give it time and she’d probably become as discontented as Sandy had.

  If a ranch-bred wife couldn’t handle this life, how could someone who’d once apparently had everything in the world at her fingertips?

  And this was a truly stupid line of thought. The woman had been here a week. What was he thinking, imagining catastrophes in a future that would probably never happen?

  Shaking his head, he finally turned from the window and stripped. Until Angie’s arrival, he’d always slept naked, but these days he invariably pulled on a pair of sweatpants in case something happened in the night.

  The time might come when she might need him. Anything was possible, and when it came, if it came, he hoped he was ready. That he did and said all the right things.

  All these years he’d wondered why she hadn’t let him close, even when she was tiny. He’d blamed it on his every visit being a visit with a stranger. Every meeting between them meant they had to start all over again. It wasn’t enough to be a dad two or three times a year.