That Wilder Boy

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  “Rocky, in less than a month, I’ll turn twenty-five.” He opened his mouth to say something, but she held up her hand. “And you need to know what happens then. My father was a very wealthy man. When he died, he left nearly everything in a trust fund for me. Sometimes I think that’s why my mom married Mac—Daddy provided for my future, but it was my distant future, and he left very little to Mom for the present. She needed Mac’s money to survive. So did I.

  “But on my twenty-fifth birthday the trust fund becomes truly mine to do with as I please. I won’t be dependent on Mac anymore, and I won’t need to be. I’ll be very wealthy in my own right.” She searched Rocky’s face. He didn’t so much as blink. She continued. “I need to know if this causes a problem for you.”

  He drew in a long breath, his gaze drifting to the side for a moment as he appeared to gather his thoughts. When he turned back to face her, she was frightened by what she saw in his eyes. She was certain it was remorse.

  “Carrie, I have to be honest. When I was growing up, I had very little. I guess that’s why I stole—I wanted what other people had. I thought those things would make me happy. Of course they didn’t. I didn’t recognize it at the time, but I think my own guilt made me unable to enjoy the things I took. The best thing that happened to me was getting caught stealing and being forced to face the consequences of my actions. I never stole again, but I still wanted things.”

  He shook his head, a lopsided smile appearing. “Do you know I used to stand outside the fence of your house, wishing I lived in the Steinwood mansion?”

  “You did?” She wondered why she’d never seen him.

  A quick nod made his hair slip across his forehead. He ran his fingers through the strands, smoothing them back in place. “Yes. I wanted your house. I wanted your money. I wanted. . .everything you had. I thought I’d surely be happy if all those things were mine. For years that’s all I thought about—becoming wealthy. Becoming happy.”

  He shrugged. “Obviously I haven’t become wealthy. I work as a gardener and live in a trailer house. About as unwealthy as a person can be.” He chuckled a bit at his own expense. “And for the most part I think I managed to get past that dream of being rich. Until I met you.” He shook his head, whistling through his teeth. “Boy, I don’t know how to explain this.”

  Although Carrie’s heart beat in trepidation, she said, “Try. I’m listening.”

  “I think I managed to find contentment in just being Rocky Wilder, groundskeeper, but then you came along in your fancy clothes and your fancy car, and suddenly being groundskeeper wasn’t enough again. I wanted more. But not for me this time, for you. I like you, and I want to give you things. Things like you’re used to having. And I can’t do that. So. . .”

  “So that’s why you avoided me Friday night? Because you can’t give me things?” She wanted to make sure she understood.

  He nodded. The strand of hair slipped again, and it was all Carrie could do to keep from guiding it into place for him. “Yeah. I can’t compete with all you have, Carrie. And it hurts my pride, you know? Even if I get my business up and running, it’ll only be a landscaping business. Nothing like what you want to do with your life—executive position, using computers and all that.” He huffed in aggravation, his forehead creased. “I’m nobody compared to you.”

  His last statement made her mad. “You aren’t nobody, Rocky. Not compared to me or anyone else. Do you think God sees you as a nobody? No. He sees you as His creation, and He loves you just the way you are. You’ve got to stop putting yourself down because you don’t have money. It isn’t right.”

  “It also isn’t easy,” he shot back.

  She nodded, acknowledging his words. “I know. But you have to try, Rocky. Because if you don’t, we. . .” She turned her gaze away. Was there a “we” where she and Rocky were concerned?

  After several quiet minutes she turned back. “I don’t want my money to come between us. Is it going to?”

  He rested his chin in his hand, his gaze pinned on hers, while he seemed to struggle with forming an answer. Finally an answer came, but it wasn’t the one Carrie hoped for. “I don’t know. I want to see just you—Carrie, my friend—but Caroline Mays Steinwood keeps getting in the way.”

  “So think about something else!” She threw her hands outward, disgusted with his short-sightedness. “Think about. . .your own landscaping business and what it will take to get it running. Don’t even think about me and my goals. Focus on your own.”

  “But don’t you see I can’t? They’re all intermingling!” He appeared as frustrated as she felt. He rammed his hand through his hair. “When I think of me landscaping, the picture ends up side by side with you in a business suit in a meeting with multimillionaires. I think of my trailer house, and your family’s mansion looms over it. I think of my past, all the wrong things I did, and when I compare that to your sweetness. . . The two don’t fit together, Carrie—don’t you see?”

  “All I see,” she said, blinking to hold back tears, “is that you’re going to ruin something good if you don’t let go of my money. The money doesn’t mean that much to me, Rocky. But if it means that much to you it’s always going to be in the way. And we don’t stand a chance of making this relationship work.”

  “I know.” The simple answer came out in a groan.

  Although Carrie recognized how deeply Rocky wanted to make things work, she also knew it was not going to happen easily. She took his hand. The calluses on his palm and the ends of each finger felt scratchy against her flesh. She squeezed hard to let him know they didn’t bother her.

  “Rocky, please. I need someone who will see me for who I am. Not Caroline Mays, recipient of a massive trust fund. Not Caroline Steinwood, stepdaughter of Mac Steinwood. Not rich-girl Carrie. Just. . .Carrie. Can you do that?”

  He met her gaze, his fingers tightening on hers. “I can try.” His voice sounded raspy. He cleared his throat and added, “I’ll do my best.”

  Carrie wasn’t sure that was good enough, but for now it would have to do. She turned to watch a pair of ducks glide across the pond toward one another. They touched beaks then continued side by side. She sighed. All the people in the world who thought money was the answer to their problems. If they only knew the problem money could be. . . . Her mouth felt dry, and she licked her lips.

  Rocky bumped her arm with a bottle of lemonade. “It won’t stay cold much longer. Better drink it.”

  She took it, but it was slippery from condensation, and she nearly dropped it. Rocky recovered it by grasping both the bottle and her hand. Their gazes collided for a moment, and she allowed him a glimpse of her agony. She saw a matching sadness in his eyes, too.

  “Do you have it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “Yes.” She pulled her hand away, the bottle secure. She unscrewed the cap and lifted the bottle to her lips for a sip of the sweet, cool liquid. It soothed her throat, but her heart remained burdened.

  She had prayed for God to bring a man into her life who wouldn’t pursue her for her money. She never dreamed she’d need to pray for one to accept it.

  Eleven

  Carrie slipped in the back door and headed directly to her bedroom. No servants were around—Sunday was their day off. Her mother’s suite door was closed, indicating she was taking her Sunday afternoon nap, and Mac was nowhere in sight. That suited Carrie. She wanted some time alone.

  She changed out of her dress and put it in with the wash going to the dry cleaners. For a moment she stood in her walk-in closet and let her gaze rove across the variety of clothing items available to her. So many fancy, unnecessary things. Her mother loved to dress her up—she always had. Mother glowed with pride when someone said, “What a pretty girl your Carrie is.”

  Carrie frowned. Would Mother have loved her as much had she been a plain-looking girl? She pushed that thought away and moved to her dresser, where she pulled out a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt. Nothing fancy, but merely comfortable. I
n the privacy of her bedroom she could get by with that.

  Climbing into the four-poster bed she stacked up the plump pillows and leaned into the comforting softness. How different Rocky had looked today. He had a rugged appeal in his work clothes that showed his developed biceps, wide shoulders, and narrow hips. But today, in a pair of pleated trousers, button-down oxford shirt, and tie of muted blues and greens, she’d been given a different glimpse of Rocky. Her heart thumped as she remembered the jolt of reaction that had attacked her middle when he’d turned and flashed his welcoming smile. Rocky in dress-up clothes was an arresting sight.

  She sighed, shifting into a more reclined position, as she allowed her thoughts to drift, dissecting all the reasons she found Rocky desirable. His height and strong arms gave her a feeling of protection. She knew she was safe with him. Those moments when he’d hugged her—just one brief, almost impersonal embrace—had turned her insides to mush. If a hug did all that, what might a kiss do? She felt an embarrassed flush fill her face as she considered it. Would she ever find out?

  Grabbing one of the pillows, she hugged it to her chest, an attempt to calm her accelerated heartbeat. She suspected he wouldn’t be the aggressor. Angela had said he was a player in high school, but she saw none of that in his behavior. He was always a gentleman—flirtatious but respectful.

  What would he do if she kissed him? She considered it, wondering if she could find the courage to be bold enough to kiss him. Always the men had pursued her, never the other way around. They’d pursued her because she was pretty, but also because she was rich.

  Rocky wouldn’t pursue her because she was rich. Her wealth left him feeling inadequate. She remembered the look in his eyes as he’d admitted he had a hard time separating Carrie his friend from Caroline Steinwood. She huffed in aggravation, throwing the pillow aside. Why couldn’t he see her for herself? Just once, why couldn’t someone see her for herself?

  “It’s always been this way.” The words came out in a harsh whisper. She believed her mother loved her because she was attractive and intelligent—the perfect trophy child to put on exhibit for her friends. Mac provided for her to please her mother, not because of any real affection for her. The friends she’d had while growing up had spent time with her because it was prestigious to be invited to the Steinwood mansion. Carl had ardently pursued her because of the magnitude of her trust fund. Carrie’s heart ached as she realized how many people cared for her to suit their own needs, not to meet her needs for love and affection.

  Raising her gaze to the coffered ceiling, she spoke aloud. “Thank You, God, for loving me for me. Thank You for not loving me for what I could give You, but loving me just because. There isn’t anyone else in my life who’s done that. . . .”

  Not even Rocky. Not honestly. It hurt her to acknowledge it. She believed Rocky was trying, but even with him the money created a diversion. Closing her eyes and lowering her head, she continued talking to her heavenly Father. But this prayer was one of desire. “Please, God, I’m falling in love with Rocky, and I believe he’s falling in love with me. Let him look past the dollar signs to my heart. Let him see me—just me. . . .”

  ❧

  “Hand me another one of those mums.” Eileen reached her gloved hand toward Rocky.

  Rocky had promised to help her get a variety of mums planted before she needed to pick up the boys from work Monday afternoon. They’d spent nearly an hour together, with him pausing in the distribution of fertilizer to offer a hand when needed, and half the mums were already in the ground. He looked where she had the trowel poised now. “You gonna put it there?”

  Eileen blinked at him, her lips pursed. “That was my intention. Why?”

  He rose, his knees popping, and crossed to her in three long strides. He pointed. “If you put it that close to the rhododendron, it’ll get the afternoon shade. Besides that, from this angle, it’ll be nearly hidden. Since this garden will be mostly enjoyed from the bench on the other side of the walking path, I’d say shift it forward and to the left about twelve inches.”

  Eileen pushed to her feet and waddled to where he stood on the grass. Hands on hips, she looked at the garden area from his viewpoint. Then with a rueful chuckle she shook her head. “Okay, I concede. You’re right.” Squinting up at him, she gave him a playful poke on the shoulder. “You do know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

  She bent over, snatched up one of the potted mums and returned to the garden spot to begin digging a hole to receive the plant. While she dug, she asked, “So have you done any more checking on the classes you need to become a landscaper?”

  Rocky pushed the fertilizer spreader back and forth, its gentle hum competing with the scratch of Eileen’s trowel in the dirt. Good sounds. “I’ve checked. But. . .”

  She sat back on her haunches, fixing him with a stern look. “But?”

  He stopped, blew out a breath and shook his head. “But I don’t know if it’s worth it.”

  Eileen scowled, the lines around her mouth becoming pronounced. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Aw, don’t look at me like that,” he protested, getting the spreader going again. “Think about it. There’re all kinds of reasons to forget about that stupid dream. For one, I’m gonna be thirty years old in another year. I’m too old to be going to college—I’d look silly with all those young kids. Besides that, I’m too stupid. Barely made it through high school. How would I survive college classes on botany and biology and business? I’m just kidding myself.”

  “Rocky Wilder, you stop pushing that machine and come here.”

  The stern tone brought him to a halt. He looked at her and swallowed a grin. She was doing her best to appear fierce, but her fiercest was pretty tame compared to what Rocky grew up with. Still, he followed her direction just because he liked her so much.

  She had to tip her head back to look him in the face. “It isn’t the college that’s got you running scared. You could handle the classes. You know you aren’t stupid.” Waving her arm to indicate the grounds, she said, “All the signs of your handiwork indicate you aren’t stupid. You have the ability. So what’s the problem?”

  “It’s just a silly dream!” The words burst out more forcefully than he intended.

  “Why is it silly?” She matched his tone.

  “Because it is.”

  “Well, that’s a silly answer.” She glared up at him, daring him to contradict her. “Do you think God gives silly talents? No, He plants in each of His children the ability to do something, and that ‘something’ is for good. Nothing silly about that. You bring beauty to our corner of the world, and I won’t let you call it silly.”

  “But anybody could—”

  “No, they couldn’t! Look at what I nearly did with that mum. Would’ve hidden it in the shade. But not you—you could see the big picture. You’re a natural, Rocky, and you need to use that talent.”

  Rocky dropped his chin, shaking his head. “Look, Eileen—it was fun to think about, but it just isn’t realistic.”

  She waved her hand in dismissal. “You’re too hard on yourself. You could handle those classes if you wanted to. It isn’t unrealistic to expect yourself to succeed in school.”

  “It’s not just that,” he blurted out, surprising himself.

  “Then what is it? Spill it.”

  He swallowed. “I–I want a family, Eileen. I want a family I can take care of. Really take care of. Not just give ’em the basics, but give ’em the extras, you know what I mean? Vacations and braces”—he ran his tongue over his crooked teeth—“and a nice house. Even if I get a business started, even if I do landscaping for other people as my job, I’m still nothing more than a glorified gardener. I’ll never be rich, not rich enough to do all those things for my family.”

  Eileen listened intently, her brow creased. “That’s really important to you?”

  “Yes!” He flung his arms outward. “I spent all my growing-up years feeling envious of the kids who had nice clothes
and new bicycles every year for Christmas and silver braces making their teeth straight. I don’t want my own kids feeling that way.”

  “Oh, Rocky. . . .” Eileen shook her head, a sad smile softening the lines around her mouth. “Sit down here with me for a minute, huh?”

  They sat side by side in the grass, while the early fall sun heated their heads. Eileen plucked one strand of grass and used it to point at him.

  “I understand why you feel the way you do, but I think you’re selling yourself and your future family short. Happiness isn’t something you get because you’ve got things. Happiness comes from. . .well, from loving each other.” She worked her jaw back and forth for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, then continued. “I’ve known your brother, Philip, a long time—five years now—and he’s been pretty open with me. So I’m going to make an observation based on what Philip’s shared. Hold onto your hat.”

  Teasingly, Rocky put his hands on his head.

  Eileen grinned and went on. “That desire of yours to give all kinds of extras, as you put it, comes from your misguided perception that things were what you lacked as a child. Rocky, it wasn’t things; it was a feeling of belonging and affection. Your parents, for whatever reason, didn’t know how to give that to you. But I know if they’d really made you feel loved, not getting a new bicycle or braces wouldn’t have mattered a bit. I know, because that was my childhood. Never had more than two sets of clothes to my name, sure never got new toys, but I was never unhappy. Because my house burst at the seams with loving each other. I was so happy I never knew I was poor.”

  Rocky raised his eyebrows. He had a hard time believing her.

  “Stop looking at me like that.” She shook the blade of grass. “It’s absolutely true. I had the love of my mama and daddy, and they taught me about the love of God, and that same God made sure every last one of my needs was met. I never once hungered for anything more than what I had. I was happy. Because I was loved.”