by Alice Ward
I thought about it, chewing my bottom lip. “Well, it’s not in the rulebook but if you promise to jump down and climb into the coach just as we hit town, I won’t tell. You like horses?” I asked, scooting a bit so he could heft himself up to the seat.
“Oh, yes, although Arabs are more my breed,” he said. He stuck out his hand. “Ben Trax is my name… and you are?”
“You can call me Auggie,” I said, shaking his hand. “We’d better get started.” As another streak of lightning brightened the sky, I slapped the reins.
“Mind if I take the reins a minute?” he asked.
“Okay, but the horses are antsy from that storm coming in and it’s against the rules. You wouldn’t want me to get fired, would you?” I asked, grinning.
“Just once and for a moment,” he pleaded and I handed them over.
It was as if a magic spell descended over the team. Their ears relaxed and they fell into step as if choreographed. A lightning bolt struck a tree about a half mile ahead and the thunder was loud enough to break a nearby eardrum, but the horses hardly flinched.
“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” I asked him, amazed. “You’re a natural.”
“Never. I do seem to have a way with horses, though. Have all my life. Wish I were as good with cars… and with women,” he added and turned to wink at me.
How long had it been since I’d seen a man smile at me? I felt a pang for Worth, but I knew he was a figure who belonged in my past.
We weren’t far from town so I nudged him and took back the reins. “I’m going to stop now and you need to scramble into the back. Where can I drop you?” I asked him.
“A service station would be a good start,” he said and winked again.
I nodded and reined in the horses long enough for him to jump down and get into the coach. I took a side street where I’d seen a service station and pulled up.
Ben climbed out and held up a twenty. “No, no,” I said. “You didn’t get the whole tour. Go on in there and they’ll take care of you, I’m sure. Nice to meet you, Ben.” I grinned and snapped the reins, leaving him standing there with his hand still outstretched.
I returned the coach and horses and was brushing them down when I heard steps behind me. Thinking it was my employer, I didn’t turn but said, “Hand me the hoof pick, would you? I think we picked up a stone.”
A tanned hand with an expensive wristwatch appeared at my side, a hoof pick extended. I turned and there stood Ben Trax. I was surprised, to say the least. “Hello…?” I ventured.
“I’m sorry, I know this is kind of weird, but you’re the only person I’ve met in town, except for Shorty at the repair shop. He tells me he can’t tow it in until the storm passes and it will be tomorrow until he can take a look at it. I’m a stranger here, as you know, and wondered if I could trade you a dinner for a guided tour of the town. I have no idea where to stay or eat, for that matter.”
I stood upright and considered him. There was no doubt he seemed friendly and honest, but I was alone and there was no one looking out for me. It paid to be cautious. He sensed my hesitation. “Please?” he repeated.
I nodded and turned back to my work. “Take a seat where you can find one and I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” I said, but instead, he came up and got between the horse and me, put his shoulder against the animal and lifted its leg so as to hold the hoof.
“Hand me the pick,” he said. I did so without thinking and he quickly removed the stone, patted the horse’s leg and then its flank. “There, that should do it,” he said, handing me the lead.
“You seemed to know what you were doing,” I commented.
“I’m a vet,” he said succinctly.
Now, having grown up in the equine industry in Kentucky, we were more impressed by large animal vets than human neurosurgeons. The better vets were impossible to get to and we considered them gods.
I finished up with the horses and showed Ben out to my car. I’d lost all anxiety about him strangely and felt a kinship.
He got in. “Nice car, Kentucky plates,” he observed. “Want to talk about it?”
I looked at him sideways, a lock of his sandy-colored hair had fallen down into his eyes, giving him a very boyish look in a man’s lanky body.
“About what?” I asked as innocently as I could.
“Come on, Auggie. It’s all over you. Your name is short for Augusta. Hardly a name you find at Wal-Mart. Your hair has never been colored or permed, you walk with the kind of assurance that says you’re well-bred, wear little makeup so you’re not trying to impress anyone and you know your way around horses, which is not a poor man’s hobby. We won’t even talk about the fact that you’re working for a tourist trap and driving an eighty-thousand-dollar car. How’s that for starters?” he finished. “Judging by that new hitch on the back, I guess you’ve got a horse and trailer parked around here somewhere, too.”
My mouth was hanging open. “How did you know all that?”
He laughed, a sound that was deep and musical. “Told you, I have a way with creatures. They sense who they can trust and you have to read them well to earn that trust,” he explained. “Have I read you well?”
I sat there, the car still in park. “Astoundingly well,” I said.
“I’m going to hazard a guess and say Louisville or Lexington, although you probably went to UK.”
“God, are you some kind of a psychic?”
He just laughed and pointed forward. “C’mon, let me buy you dinner. On second thought, I’ll bet you’ve got a trust fund somewhere. I’ll let you buy me dinner,” he joked and I instantly liked him.
I pulled up to a diner I’d found and we went inside, choosing a corner booth away from the noisy door. He waited until I’d been seated and then slid in. “So, what is his name?”
I gaped at him and he reached over and tapped the white line on my left hand. “Looks like the width of an engagement ring and not a wedding set.”
“You should be Sherlock Holmes,” I commented and stirred the straw around in my soft drink.
“So, I’ve been told,” he said wryly.
“Why, don’t people appreciate your talents?” I queried.
“People like to believe in the art of their own illusion. They want others to believe what they want them to believe.”
Worth’s words came rushing back to me. “Huh, yes, I know someone else who has that opinion.”
“Aha! Now we’re getting somewhere. He’s a philosopher? A psychology professor?”
“You’re getting very close… a psychologist,” I illuminated the guess.
“Hmmm… well, he should be smart enough and well-trained enough to be able to hang on to a prize like you. What in the hell happened?”
Our dinners came then and there was a lull as we both put ketchup on our fries.
“It’s a long and emotionally-woven story and mostly has to do with other people. I’m here to forget all about that, anyway.” I was trying to tell him I didn’t want to talk about it.
“Are you? Well, considering you’re fairly young and have your full brain capacity, how long do you think it will take before you’ve forgotten all about him? A hundred years, maybe?”
I frowned. “Are you trying to be contrary or do you come by it naturally?”
“Oh, it’s natural. I suppose I’m an amateur therapist, but I know people and animals have a great deal in common. Stubbornness for one thing.” He was unapologetic and that felt vaguely familiar.
“So, where are you headed?” I tried to change the topic.
“Actually, I don’t know. I’m in a situation that could be similar to yours. I sold my practice and decided to change my life at the same time. So, I threw a few things into the car and took off. Doing a little touristy stuff along the way and trying to clear my mind.” He was curiously cutting his fries into pieces before eating them. I watched, noting each piece was identical in length.
“Oh, I see. Do you have family?” This seemed a harmless
topic, but apparently it wasn’t.
“Not anymore.”
“No? What happened?” I slowly put a fry up to my mouth, emphasizing that I was using my fingers.
“I had a wife and twin sons, five years old. They were killed by a drunk driver.”
I dropped my fry and wanted to slap myself. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry…”
“Thank you.” He didn’t say any more than that. I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to ask another question or whether he was clamming up.
I figured the easiest thing was simply to ask him. “Would you like to talk about it?”
That lock of hair had fallen over his eyes again but it could not obscure the tear that waited. “I’m fairly talked, journaled, meditated and analyzed out, to tell you the truth. I thought I might try a change of life. Maybe a new life entirely?”
What could I say? That I understood? I didn’t. There was no way possible I could understand what must be going on in that man’s brain and heart. He must have stood on the precipice of insanity and fought to keep from jumping.
“Ben, I don’t know what to say.” I shifted uncomfortably in the seat. I was still wearing my western wear from work. I longed for a hot bath in a tub that I could trust was really clean.
“’s okay, people always feel that way. Sometimes I want to lop off my own head and shop for a new one.” He shoved his plate away, evidently his appetite was gone. “I’m going to ask you something and I hope you understand where it comes from.”
“Sure,” I said, anxious to make up for the awkwardness I’d created when I asked the question about family.
“Would you sleep with me?”
I choked on my drink. “Wha-at?”
“I just need to sleep with someone, to feel a woman’s body next to mine. It’s been so long and I haven’t met anyone who I’d even consider doing that with…until you, that is.”
I held up a hand. “Ben, if I’ve given you the wrong impression, I’m sorry. No, I will not sleep with you. That’s for you to do with someone who you love and who loves you. That’s no solution for what’s going on in your head.” I grabbed my purse and fished out a twenty-dollar bill, laying it on the table. “I’m sorry for your loss, Ben, but you’ve got me all wrong. I wish you the best. Bye,” I said and hurried out of the diner. Hurry probably wouldn’t be a strong enough word. I flew out the door and into the street, drawing in huge gasps of clean air. Was this the world I wanted to find? What the hell was I doing here?
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Worth
Auggie was gone. It had been more than a month now, but I couldn’t get the thought out of my head and I felt like I was going to go mad. Damn the woman! Couldn’t she see I was dealing with something bigger than both of us? Was her answer always to run when the going got tough?
I had the corner table at Joe’s. In fact, I’d had it since noon. He was coming and it was going to be a showdown. Once and for all.
I recognized his silhouette in the doorway, the sun and the noise from the overhead bridge framing him. It was a shape that delivered nightmares. It had come at bedtimes, a result of a broken window from a thrown baseball or a dandelion that had escaped my weeding. The nightmare carried a belt that flexed with vengeance.
There were others who looked up, who knew and who turned away to avoid the nod. He was not well liked. He was only permitted because I was here.
He advanced upon me, but this time, it was I who wore the look of disapproval. He stopped at my table and I simply looked at him, refusing to stand in acknowledgment. He finally slid the opposing chair back and fell into it. I noticed that he was moving more stiffly than he used to. I didn’t give a damn.
I didn’t waste the time with preambles or small talk. “Why have you sabotaged my business?”
“What makes you think it is me?” He was gruff, unforgiving, even in guilt.
“You just gave yourself away. You used the present tense.” I sipped my bourbon cautiously, keeping my head clear.
“Are you afraid of a little challenge, boy?” he asked, chuckling and taking a draw off his cigar.
The bartender called over to him, “No smoking in here, sir.”
He looked around at the filled ashtrays and puffs of smoke from around the room and swore as he smashed it into the tabletop. “Heard your filly left you.” He went for the juggler.
“I hardly think you’re in a position to discuss relationships, now, are you?”
He didn’t say a word.
“I want it stopped. Now. What will it take?”
“Give her up.” I knew who he meant and I didn’t think I could hate anyone more than I did him at that moment.
“Fuck you.”
He chuckled, stood, lit another cigar and then shrugged his shoulders. “Up to you, but you’re already fucked, son.” He strolled out, calling hello to each man sitting down the row of stools as though they were intimate friends on the golf course.
***
I drove to the condo, but barely. I’d only had a total of four hours’ sleep over the past two nights and I was barely able to distinguish the headlights that blinded me. I pulled in and realized I hadn’t locked the door when I left in the early morning. Nothing was touched. No one was here. Not even Auggie.
I found empty bourbon bottles scattered on the kitchen floor so I went after the wine in the rack. It would take more, but it would work. There was nothing edible in the fridge, so I grabbed a box of crackers and headed for the guest room, the last place she’d slept. If I tried really hard, I could still smell her scent on the sheets. Like a small child seeking comfort, I wrapped myself in them… in her absent skin.
The scene kept playing over and over in my mind. I had walked in, exhausted and in a mental turmoil and there was that awful silence. I called her name — no response. I checked and saw her car was missing, so I supposed she was shopping or maybe visiting her parents. I went in to shower and that was when I found the rings on my dresser. The exhaustion instantly disappeared and I went on mental alert. I called her phone, even though I didn’t expect her to answer and she didn’t. I called her dad and he would only say that she was fine, but she was gone. As pitiful as it was, it did give me a sense of relief that as long as he was in her loop, and apparently not worried, I knew she was safe.
There was only the one explanation for her absence — she had left me. The question was whether she was close at hand, or had gone some distance. I’d gotten back into the car and headed to the clinic, hoping against hope that there would be a message waiting on my answering machine or a note on my desk. There was nothing.
I drove to her parents’ farm. My headlights alerted her Dad and I found him waiting for me outside, away from the house. “Where is she?” tumbled out of my mouth.
“I honestly don’t know,” he said and I knew him to be a truthful man. He was also a calm man and he was calm now.
“Has she left me?” I dreaded his response.
“It would appear so. What did you do?” he asked in a solemn voice.
“Nothing, everything… I’ve been in a mess at the clinic and distant, but the alternative was to snap and be short-tempered with her. I thought it would be better if she slept elsewhere so we wouldn’t talk. I didn’t want her upset.”
“You didn’t realize it would upset her to be set aside? She’s too loving and nurturing to take that kind of treatment. She’s a wild spirit and as long as you let her be herself, she’s the most loyal damn person you could have in your corner. You, of all people, should know that.” That was the tersest I’d ever heard him be, and I deserved every fucking word of it.
We stood there in the circle of light created by the spot mounted high atop the pole next to the barn. It felt like a judgment, or perhaps more of a condemnation. “Can I see Carlos?” I asked, yearning to be close to something of hers that was gentle and innocent, if only by proxy.
“She took him,” her dad responded bluntly. “Right now, with the possible exception of me, he’s the only
living thing on this planet she feels loves her and that she can trust. I’ll be damned if I’m going to betray her,” he said, pushing his hands into his pockets and turning back toward the house. He kicked at rocks along the way, his only method of displaying emotion in a house that belonged to his dramatic wife.
“Sir?” I called after him and he stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Did you know?” I couldn’t be any more oblique than that.
Now he turned and regarded me with, if anything, more disdain than before. “Know? Hell, I drove her down there the minute after I said ‘I do.’ Go home, Worth, or wherever that still means to you.”
His words were still fresh in my mind, despite the empty wine bottle and the lack of sleep. I ached for her. I realized now that I had responded in the same way I’d been taught to handle anything, with cruelty and an utter disdain for those closest to me. They say you only hurt the people you love. In my case, he hurt me because he had loved my brother better. Perhaps in his world, I was all that stood between him and the pride he wanted to take in a son that stood for something better. Could I blame the bastard? I had lived up to every rotten thing he could have thought of… and then some.
I must have finally passed out because the burning came again and it was sunlight, forcing its way through the slats in the blind to scorch my already seared head.
I opened my eyes only a slit, at first, hoping to gradually acclimate but there was a figure standing in the doorway to the bedroom. I drew in my breath and sat upright, eyes fully aware and unbelieving of what they saw.
Auggie stood in the doorway, her face thin and her hair needing to be brushed. I couldn’t think of what to say. I’d rehearsed our reunion a hundred times with as many outcomes, but now I was struck dumb. She took care of the problem, as always.
“I’m pregnant,” she announced and turned to run into the bathroom. I heard her retching.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Worth
I got caught in the sheets and fell to the floor in my scramble to my feet. I cursed and finally got to the bathroom door.
