by Hebby Roman
“Yes, for my son’s sake, I’d remained friends.” She shook her head. “When Zoe had their second child, I knew he’d never leave his wife. I’d been such a naïve fool…” She stopped again and stared out at the dark field.
Gar pulled back on the horse’s reins. They’d come to another pasture and gate. He hated to stop now, but he hoped she’d have the courage to continue. He vaulted from the bench and opened the gate.
“Aaron, you can close the gate,” he called out. “Okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
He climbed into the wagon and urged the dray horses forward. Without looking at her, he prompted, “What changed with his divorce?”
She glanced at Aaron and lowered her voice. “Eric wanted joint custody of his two girls. But Zoe proved he was guilty of adultery.” She sighed again. “Not with me, but he’d had a lot of girlfriends. The court refused to award him joint custody, making his wife the primary custodian. And for some reason, it upset him.”
Her lips thinned. “Probably because his expensive, high-powered lawyers couldn’t deliver. Eric is accustomed to getting his way.”
“So, he likes to be in control?” He’d guessed the truth from the high-handed way he’d placed Aaron at his ranch.
Teenaged users usually came from one of two backgrounds: parents who didn’t give a rat’s ass about what their kids did or ones who liked to control every facet of their child’s life.
She leaned toward him and whispered, “That’s Eric. He likes to control everything and everybody.” She turned her head and thrust out her chin. “I should know. It took me years to get out from under his thumb.”
He definitely didn’t like the sound of that, though, in some ways, it explained her personality. She was oddly passive or acquiescent in some ways but, in other ways, she appeared to be tough and street smart with a spine of pure steel.
He turned around and said, “Okay, boys, y’all know what to do. Feed these hungry critters.”
The boys jumped off the wagon and started forking hay to the lowing herd of cattle.
He settled on the bench again and touched her hand. “Okay, so Eric liked to be in control. How exactly did his relationship with Aaron change?”
“Well, since he only saw his girls every other weekend and holidays, I guess he had more time on his hands. And he didn’t have to sneak around to see his son anymore, once he was single.”
She made a face and twisted her hands together. “He convinced me Aaron needed more time with him, learning about ‘manly’ things, like football and basketball… The usual guy stuff.
“At first, I was delighted Eric was taking an interest in his son, and Aaron blossomed under his father’s attention. His grades at school went up, and he seemed happier, too.”
“Understandable.”
“Yes, but then Eric started pressuring me to let Aaron stay over weekends, and he wanted his son for a whole month during summer break.”
“You didn’t want them to spend more time together?”
“Of course, I did, but I knew Eric. I knew the minute he got serious about a woman, he’d turn off the tap, so to speak.” She quit twisting her hands and splayed them, palms up. “He’s selfish like that. After we broke up, Aaron was usually fourth in line, behind his daughters, his wife, and the current girlfriend.”
“But he didn’t have another serious girlfriend at the time?”
“No, not for a while. I think the divorce settlement shook him up.” She turned her head and looked at the herd of milling cattle. “He’s all about money. Comes from old money and he’s made a fortune heading up his own hedge fund. I think he didn’t want to get involved, worrying there might be financial repercussions. He hated paying alimony and child support, even though, he has plenty of money.
“Control again. Everything was about control with Eric. I couldn’t see it at the time but…”
“Did he help you with Aaron’s upkeep? I noticed he didn’t mind being listed on Aaron’s birth certificate, which is prima facie evidence in most states.”
“Yes, but I was too proud to take him to court and secure child support. I managed to work it out between us, privately. And he was generous but, to be blunt, raising children, especially in New York with private schools, is pretty expensive. Not to mention paying a nanny when Aaron was younger, so I could work. But I made good money, and we split Aaron’s expenses, fifty-fifty.”
“That’s very generous of you.”
“No, not really.” She shook her head. “It was the right thing to do. As soon as I knew I was pregnant, I wanted my child. Eric was more than willing, at the time, for me to have an abortion.”
An abortion… that should have tipped her off that Eric wasn’t committed, long before she ended their relationship. He lowered his head and fidgeted with the reins, keeping his features rigid. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was judgmental. In his profession, he’d learned a long time ago, judging other people was the fastest way to failure.
“Excuse me,” he said, turning around again. He called out, “Boys, that’s good, one more pasture to go. Climb back in.”
There was a chorus of “yes, sirs,” and he grinned. They were learning.
He waited until the last boy was perched on the back of the half-filled wagon and then he slapped the reins, urging the horses forward and shouting, “Thomas, get the gate. Okay.”
“Yes, sir.”
He stopped the horses, and Thomas scrambled down. The heavy metal gate groaned as it opened. He clicked his tongue and they rumbled over the cattle guard.
He shifted on the bench and touched her upturned palm, tracing his fingers over her soft skin and inhaling her distinctive scent.
Her perfume was subtle. He hadn’t even realized how fantastic she smelled until she’d scooted closer. “Mmmm, you smell good.” He leaned over, wishing they were on a conventional hayride. “Like spices, not flowery or musky, but…”
She pulled her hand away and hunched her shoulders. “It’s a mixture of ambergris with coumarin. I have it made for me at a perfumer’s in Greenwich Village.”
“Sounds expensive.”
“No, the opposite. Commercial fragrances are expensive and too… heavy… too obtrusive to my way of thinking. Craft-made ones are more natural and lighter.”
She was right—that’s why he hadn’t noticed her perfume before. And the scent was unusual, too, like new-mown hay or sweet spring grasses. Very natural.
Despite how yummy she smelled, he shouldn’t have said anything.
And why had he stroked the palm of her hand? What was wrong with him?
If he really wanted to help Aaron, he needed to keep his personal feelings to himself. Just the realization of how he was feeling stunned him. When was the last time he’d had personal feelings for a woman?
Not for a long time. He’d been hurt, the hurt so deep, it was like his heart had been burned black and hollowed out. And he didn’t want to go there again.
But she drew him, like no other woman had, even Heather. She was different from any woman he’d known. She worked in a glamorous profession, but her demeanor was humble and natural. She cared deeply about her son and was willing to do anything to reach him. She’d made her way in a foreign country and a tough profession. Yet, she seemed at home in the countryside, too, probably because of her early life.
She was one hell of a woman with a lot of experience. Without trying, she turned him to mush, like the grain mash he fed his colicky horses.
When would he learn?
He stopped the wagon and allowed Thomas to climb back on. He’d questioned her enough for one night… or maybe he didn’t want to know more.
He kept the wagon rolling to the last pasture under the clear, inky sky with the cicadas whirring in the background.
When the boys had finished forking hay, he headed back to the barn. Outside the bright red barn, he pulled up the draft horses and then he jumped down, offering
his hand to help Sofia to the ground.
He turned to the crowd of boys and randomly picked two. “Matthew and Brian, your turn, you unharness and groom Mabel and Sheba. Okay? And make sure they have hay, grain, and fresh water, too.”
The boys groaned but nodded.
“The rest of you know what to do. Time for a little fun.”
The other boys ran off, racing for the wooden ladder, leading up to the hay loft.
“What are they going to do?” she asked.
“What all boys like to do, slide down the hay chute and jump into a pile of hay I keep out back.”
“Oh, sounds like fun.”
Gar noticed Aaron hadn’t looked at his mother all night, not after his initial grimace.
“Mind if I ask something?” she asked.
“No, I don’t mind.”
“This place seems so open. How do you keep the boys from getting out?”
“State-of-the-art electronic surveillance. We’re hooked up and streaming real time to a central security site in San Antonio. And I have a list of off-duty police and sheriff deputies in my phone contacts, who can come at a run if there’s trouble.” He took off his Stetson and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed the cameras.”
“You must have them well hidden.”
“We try. Makes the boys feel less like…”
“Prisoners?” she asked. “You’re very attuned to what the boys need. Aren’t you?”
Did he detect a hint of admiration in her voice? He thought he did, and it warmed him, deep inside. Heather hadn’t understood. Very few people did.
“Like I said, we aim to please.” He glanced at her sketch book. “Get any drawing done?”
“How could I? It was too dark out.”
“Yep, but did you get any ideas?”
“Maybe.” She licked her lips.
He watched the flick of her pink tongue, fantasizing about sucking it into his mouth. He shut his eyes for a second and took a deep breath.
“Come on,” he said, leading her to a small room full of harnesses, bridles and saddles. In the middle was an old wooden desk. He flipped on the overhead light and hung his hat on one of the pegs by the door.
A row of pegs held an array of battered cowboy hats, some straw, others felt. He kept old hats for the ranch hands and the boys, if anyone needed one.
He grimaced when he saw how grimy the desk was. He took out a handkerchief and wiped the desk’s dusty surface. “Plenty of light in here. Have a go at it.”
She rounded the desk and placed her pad in the middle. Looking up, she caught his eye. “Actually, when we were talking about finances, I realized I’d like to pay my fair share of Aaron’s fees.” She lowered her gaze. “At first, I didn’t know what to think. I’d read a bunch of horrible reports about ‘private’ rehab places and the scandals.”
He couldn’t help but feel a small surge of anger. “Internet?”
“Yeah.” She didn’t look up.
He spread his hands. “Well, Shady Oaks is different. What you see is what you get. Hang around as much as you want. I’ve done everything I know to curtail any questions about my ranch.”
He drew in a deep breath, willing his heart to slow. “I know ranches and camps get the worst reports, but I don’t run this place for profit. My financial documents are publicly available. I’m on salary, as is all my help. I keep a few thousand in a contingency fund so I can meet any unforeseen expenses for the ranch, but I’m essentially non-profit.”
She sighed and lifted her head. Her brown-and-golden flecked eyes were soft. “I know. I’m very impressed with your ranch. That’s why I want to help with Aaron’s fees.”
He huffed out a breath, letting go of his anger. “I can understand the way you feel, but the money is direct deposited into Shady Oaks’ account. If you want to change that, it’s a matter between your attorney and Mr. Van Wyck’s.”
“Yes, I guess you’re right.”
“I’m going to watch over the boys. Make sure no fights break out or any other kind of mischief.” He thumped the wall beside the door. “Be back in a few.”
* * *
Sofia watched as Gar turned and quit the tack room, leaving the door open. Gazing at his retreating back, she wondered at his self-sacrifice. Few people, if any, were as motivated as he was.
She opened her sketch book and took up a pencil. No superheroes tonight. Watching the boys pitch hay, she’d had some ideas, but they were mostly cartoonlike with pint-sized cowboys being kicked by dray horses or run over by stampeding heifers.
Her tongue snaked out of the corner of her mouth and she concentrated, drawing faster. It had been a while, but it was like riding a bicycle; she hadn’t forgotten. It felt good to be sketching again.
Then she heard a loud smack and a yelp. Gar’s raised voice reached her and then the sound of boots scuffling on hard boards. Alarmed, she jumped up and went to the doorway, peering out.
Gar had two of the boys with his hands on their chests, pushing them apart. “Stop it, you two. Stop it! No outside privileges for two days.” He leaned down and looked directly into each boy’s face. “You got that Brian and Lucas?” Releasing them, he dusted his hands and said, “Shake hands and apologize.”
The two teenaged boys shook hands and mumbled some words.
“Okay, good enough,” Gar said. “Back to the dormitory, shower, and lights out. But first…” He cupped each boy’s chin in turn, examining their faces. “Appears no permanent damage. Just bruises and scratches. Have your dorm Mom check you before bed—a little iodine should take care of it.”
The boys looked down and shuffled their boots in the hay. “Yes, sir.”
“Go on then.”
The boys started to run off. Gar cleared his throat. Brian and Lucas stopped in their tracks and walked sedately out of the barn.
“Well, you handled that with ease,” she said.
“Lots of practice.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Getting late. You get any sketching done?”
She retrieved her book and held it up. “A couple, what do you think?”
He studied them and grinned. “I like them. Wouldn’t mind having them finished and framed for my office.”
She lifted one eyebrow. “You can’t be serious. They’re very rough.”
“Maybe, but anything that’s fun is always welcome.” He traced his thumb over the one drawing where the boy looked a lot like her son. “You have a good eye.”
“Why, thank you.” She could feel the tips of her ears burning, realizing he admired her skill.
Aaron came running up and tugged on Gar’s sleeve. “Mr. McCulloch, Jimmy is bossing us around, saying we can’t throw down more hay and…”
He looked up and met her eyes. Seeing her in the doorway, he turned away and scowled. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Nonsense.” Gar threw his arm around Aaron’s shoulder. The boy flinched and stuck out his bottom lip, but he didn’t pull away.
“You’re just the person I want to see.” He glanced at her and winked. “What do you think of your mother’s drawings?” He pointed at the picture of a boy being chased by a huge heifer with a dangling bell around her neck. “I think he looks a little bit like you.”
Aaron frowned and spat. “That ain’t me. And I don’t want to see her old drawings, anyway. Bunch of junk.” He shrugged off Gar’s arm and turned to walk away.
Her heart clenched, feeling as if her son had struck her. She knew Aaron hated her. Why, every time he pushed her away, did it have to hurt so much?
He still wasn’t wearing his cross. Had he lost it or was its absence part of his rejection and everything she stood for, even his faith? She could feel her eyes burning and the tears gathering. She swiped at her face and looked down, fussing with her sketch pad.
“Wait a minute, Aaron,” Gar commanded.
The boy stopped, but he didn’t turn around.
Aaron’s spine stiffened, and he threw his shoulders back. Slowly, begrudgingly, he turned and faced her. “Good night,” he muttered with his jaw set.
“Good night, Aaron.”
“You’re in charge, Aaron. Get everyone started toward the dorm.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gar turned and gazed at her. She could see the compassion in his eyes, but she didn’t want his sympathy. All she wanted was Aaron.
“We tried,” he said. “It’s a start. I’m going to follow them to make certain everyone gets back to the dorm. After that, Eugenia, their dorm Mom can take over.”
He touched her arm. “But I’d like it if you’d wait for me on my patio. It’s around back of the house. There’s a gas fire pit. You can turn it on. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“I still have an hour’s drive to San Antonio, and after dark, everything looks different.”
“I know, but it’s not going to be any darker an hour from now. And I think we need to finish our talk. I’ve got some nice Hill Country wine, a red blend or a chardonnay. Take your pick.”
“I thought everyone drank whiskey or margaritas down here.”
He chuckled. “You look like the wine type to me.”
“Actually, in my profession, I usually don’t drink. But I’d love to try some of the local wines.”
“You’re on. I’ll only be ten minutes. Then I’ll join you.”
* * *
Gar crossed the yard in front of his house and circled around back. Her rental car, a silver Chrysler, was still in the circular driveway. He’d hoped she would stay, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d bolted.
Wanting her to stay—his motives were far from pure. Though he needed to know more about the breakdown of her relationship with Aaron, he also wanted to spend time with her.
Since that fateful day, over three years ago, he hadn’t looked at another woman—not really. He’d gone through the motions of his divorce from Heather, but he’d had few regrets. His marriage had been on life support before they’d lost Sybil.
