Morgan's Walk

by Suzelle Johnston

  “Son,” the whisper of Chase’s voice was never far away, “you’ve stirred up the thunderstorm and she’s just like her mother. I’d enjoy it if I were you.”

  Jared’s low laugh followed her steps.

  ****

  How could she have allowed herself to slip so far? She fumed all the way to her house, slammed the door behind her, and glowered at Jake.

  “Jared Grant has never been anything but trouble. That hasn’t changed. Not one bit.” She pressed her fingers against her lips. The man kissed her in ways that left her feeling like…a woman?

  She stacked the coffee cups in the dishwasher and punched the start button.

  “Maybe I liked him as a kid. But what did he grow up to be? A tall, overbearing, rude, arrogant Neanderthal, that’s what.”

  One who laughed at the awful jokes the stable-hands told.

  One who took time to fix her grandmother a cup of hot tea.

  And who cared about her own tears over Chase.

  Not to mention, the guy could ride. His school was a success, even his fan club turned out to be more fun than she’d expected. Maybe the man was frustrating, even maddening at times, but she gave him credit for knowing what he was doing. Which left her wondering if she could say the same for herself.

  Maybe he was the reason there was so much noise coming from her laundry. He’d distracted her. Who knew a washing machine could make such sounds? Or that it could shimmy a mambo clear across the room. If somebody thought to put cotton slippers on its feet, it could have washed, and most likely waxed, the whole floor. She opened the lid and pushed things around. Thought of Jared, the way he pushed her feelings around.

  The big lout.

  She hauled the vacuum out of the closet, fumbled with the thing for thirty minutes, struggling with pieces that obviously were meant to fit together, that wouldn’t fit for her. Jake, still on his sofa, tucked his nose under a long leg and sighed.

  Eventually the hardwood floors were clean enough to serve meals on, and the braided rugs, aged with sun and years of wear, revealed colors making them seem almost new. By the time she started on the kitchen, her mood simmered at a slow boil.

  That didn’t stop her from scouring the countertop until it was spotless, oiling the cabinets, tables, and the antique china hutch she loved so well, scrubbing whatever she could reach until all the dust that settled in even the smallest corner of the house was long vanquished and still, still, she thought of him.

  It was disgusting.

  “Jake!” she all but yelled. “We’re going for a walk.” Maybe an hour outside in the fresh air would do the trick. At least it would clear her head. She dragged open the door, and had she not been looking, would have stepped on the flowers. They were just there—in the moonlight, on her porch. Of course, she didn’t have to ask who’d left them.

  “See?” Tyndal glared at Jake. “I told you. The man’s impossible.”

  Jake nosed at the bouquet, wagged his tail, scenting a familiar hand.

  Tyndal stared at the flowers as if they contained arsenic. How did he know she loved hyacinths? He’d wrapped them in simple brown paper, tied it altogether with a burlap string, leaving just a glimpse of the blooms within.

  He’d left a note too.

  She snatched it up, his handwriting was the same arrogant scrawl it’d been when they were kids. She’d recognize it anywhere. The gesture, though, he knew just how to get to her. She tossed her head and stuffed the note in her pocket. Maybe she wouldn’t read it at all. That’d serve him right. But the flowers? She held them to her face as tears stung her eyes.

  “What am I to do, Jake?” She sat on the porch step, the big dog at her side.

  ****

  A few feet beyond the shadows, in the quiet dark, Jared smiled.

  Earlier, when it suited him to be obvious, if she’d taken time to look, she’d have seen him cleaning his gear, grooming Pyralis. At the moment, he still wasn’t that far away. He was hidden in the deepest shadows—and vastly entertained.

  He’d smiled when she found the flowers. Almost laughed when she shoved the envelope in her pocket, then likely because she couldn’t stand it any longer, she pulled it out and stared at it. She smoothed the creases, turned it carefully it in her hands.

  He almost went to her as she sat beside Jake, tears streaming down her face. What stopped him was knowing she didn’t need comfort. She needed clarity. To know her own mind. If they were to have any future, he wanted her to meet him full on, woman to man, not memory. Between them, they had plenty of memories. But dreams? The kind he wanted to build with her? Sometimes a man fought fire with fire. He figured what he’d said would light the fuse. Plus he enjoyed her temper. Usually. He rubbed his shoulder, remembered how she’d punched him for dumping her in the creek. She’d been eleven and had it coming.

  Finally, he watched her stand and read his words. He felt the jolt as she repeated them.

  Watch your step, love.

  “Well, that cuts it. Who does he think he is? I’ll show him a step or two. Believe me.” With brimstone in her eyes and Jake at her heels, she grabbed a jacket, slammed the door with enough force that Pyralis flinched.

  “Easy, boy.” Jared laughed. “I think we’ve managed to get her attention.”

  Chapter Four

  Fionola sat on the front porch wrapped in an afghan against the chill. She might be old, but she still enjoyed the crisp air. From the day Chase brought her to this place where he dreamed of building Morgan’s Walk, she’d loved the prairie with all its moods as much as she’d loved the man whose moods reminded her of its seasons. Spring was its most temperamental time of year. Warm and inviting one day, freezing and snowing the next, a combination as unpredictable as her granddaughter.

  The one now storming up the steps.

  “Where’s Jared?” she demanded, hot as white lightning.

  “How lovely to see you, my dear. I missed you earlier today. I stopped by your office and you were out.”

  “Yeah? Well, you may have to go on missing me. Even if I have to spend the rest of my life in jail, I don’t care. I really am going to murder him this time.”

  “Oh? Do tell.” Fionola patted the seat at her side. “Sit down, child.”

  “Thanks. Hi, Fee.” Tyndal flopped onto the sofa. “I’ve had a lousy day. So far, the evening isn’t any better.”

  “I see that. But to answer your question, I don’t know where Jared is. The last time I saw him was earlier this afternoon when he left in that fancy car of his. Said he had an errand to run and that he wouldn’t be back until later. As far as I know, he hasn’t returned.”

  “Really? Well.” Tyndal took a deep breath. “Isn’t that just dandy.”

  “I take it he’s committed some unforgivable offense?”

  “All he has to do is be within two miles of me to accomplish that. But you wouldn’t believe what he did this time.”

  “I’ll be happy to listen. Your grandfather made me spitting mad too. Personally, I think it’s a talent of the species.”

  “Well, that might be true. But first, I have to yell at my worthless dog.”

  “Why? What’d he do?”

  “He’s a rat-faced, chicken-livered mutt. And he’s a traitor.” She stood, pointed her fingers toward Jake. “He’s going back to the barns. He’s moped around half the day looking for you-know-who.” Tyndal raised her voice just enough to be insulting.

  “Hey, Jake? How is it that all of a sudden you’ve become man’s best friend? You’d better remember it’s this woman who feeds you.” The big dog glanced over his shoulder, trotted on.

  “Did you see that? I swear he smiled. Men,” she growled. “Maybe it’s all men, in general. Thicker than fleas.”

  “Care to explain?”

  “He brought me flowers,” Tyndal snapped, contempt rich in every syllable.

  “Did he now? You mean he shoved a bouquet in your face and left?”

  Oh, how sweet. Fionola sighed to herself. Jared brought h
er girl flowers. Chase did such thoughtful things too. She blinked back tears as Tyndal flung herself on the step beside her feet and leaned across to rest her head on her old knees. When the child was little, she’d done the same. Maybe it was just a grandmother’s touch that stroked away tears, Fionola wasn’t sure. As she had before, Fee lifted her hand to the long, dark curls. Young love. Sometimes it was hard.

  “No. Worse. He left it on the porch for me to stumble over.”

  “Well, that’s terrible. I know his mother and I’m sure she raised her son better than to do something like that. Did you retaliate by picking it up and pulling the vile little head off each bloom, then grinding them all into the dirt?”

  As she’d hoped, Tyndal giggled. “Good Lord, Fee, you have an imagination. No, I couldn’t do that. He brought hyacinths and you know how I feel about them. But when I read his note, I did throw that thing in the trash.”

  “Oh, good. Then what?” Fionola’s heart melted. Enough so she missed part of the conversation. “I’m sorry, dear, my mind drifted. In any case, I think a grown man should know how to present flowers to a woman. It was rude of him that he didn’t have the nerve to knock on your door and come in.”

  “That he didn’t probably saved his life.”

  There certainly was no denying Tyndal’s eyes were brighter than they’d been in months. The girl sparkled. Of course there were occasional tears, Fee was prepared for that. Maybe it’d taken a bit of maneuvering, but so far she’d convinced two stubborn individuals who’d always loved one another to come home again. Now if she could just nudge them toward admitting how they felt, she might start to plan a certain wedding.

  “Not to permanently change the subject”—Fionola stood, not about to betray her thoughts by a careless word—“but have you had dessert yet? There’s fresh coffee inside and we could talk about this situation over chocolate cake if you’re interested.”

  It probably wasn’t necessary to mention that Jared said he planned to return in time to share the cake with her. Which should be interesting. Though it seemed the worst of the crisis was over, Tyndal’s face said she still struggled with her thoughts. Fionola knew her granddaughter well enough to know she’d talk about what was really bothering her only after she’d worried it half to death.

  Fionola sighed. “Child, let’s sit in the small dining room. I’d enjoy lighting a fire in the fireplace, plus it’s one of my favorite rooms.” She liked the intimate space with its deeply cushioned chairs, and antique English barley twist table. Photos of Morgan’s Walk champions lined the walls. She poured coffee at the sideboard while Tyndal cut an enormous slab of cake twice the size of what any one person could consume, and placed it at her setting.

  “You’re going to share with me, right?”

  “That little bitty piece?”

  As Tyndal’s laughter trailed off, Jake scooted under the table. Jared slid into the chair nearest her.

  “Now, if I’m not a fortunate man. Here are my favorite ladies in the world, and with cake, no less. Life is good. What are you two dreaming up?”

  “The best way to murder you, for one thing,” Tyndal replied.

  Fionola sighed, then wanted to laugh out loud. Jared’s response was priceless.

  “Oh, that’s easy,” he said. “Just put me in a cell where I couldn’t see your face. I’d die for sure.”

  “Yeah? I thought we only fed corn to cows.” Tyndal forked a mouthful of cake.

  Fionola sputtered. Jared handed her a glass of water, gave her a wink. “Fee, I ask you, what’s a man to do? Here I am, reviled and abused after I bought the woman flowers. And not just any sort of flowers either. I’m talking ones that are her favorite. I’m wounded to the heart.”

  Tyndal shot him a look. “Good. I’m about to be sick.”

  “Obviously she has no sympathy. Or appreciation.” He grinned at Fionola. “So, with your permission…”

  “It’s your life.” Fionola smiled, not the least upset when he stood, pulled Tyndal to her feet, and covered her mouth with his own.

  After a long moment, he lifted his head. “I think you feel pretty good. And by the way, sweetheart”—he grinned and licked his lips—“the cake was great too.”

  ****

  Before dawn, Tyndal was in her office with a large coffee and her computer on, trying to work out a training schedule and not being able to focus on anything. The Classic was only a short time away. The mountain of work facing her was enough to keep her busy twenty-four-seven. She had several horses that needed extra work. One foal wanting to play. And one heart so confused and troubled… Had she really fallen for Jared again? Really? All that fancy speech about him keeping his distance hadn’t done one bit of good. Not for her. Not for him. Especially, him. Nothing was sacred. The guy had ignored every last word and was everywhere.

  Then there was the bit with the cake. Jared’s kiss, the simple humor of the whole night, and, for lack of a better word, the love she’d felt from him had speared straight into her soul, stunned her, left her silent. And scared. Somehow there had to be a resolution. Hopefully something other than going to the man and begging. Surely she wasn’t reduced to that. Yet. It was terrifying to think she simply wanted him. Just him.

  “Are you dreaming or working?” The man she wasn’t ready to see stood in her doorway. She probably wouldn’t be ready to see him if she had two lifetimes.

  “Thinking. What are you doing here? I mean, your office is in the next building. You ought to be there.” She huffed out a breath. “Do you need something?”

  “Just passing by.” He folded his long frame into the chair across from her desk. “Good morning.”

  “Good bye, Jared. I have a lot of work to do today. Don’t get too comfortable there.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’m a pretty handy guy to have around. I might even be able to help.”

  “Yeah, you’re handy all right. I noticed you had your hands all over me last night.”

  His eyes lit. “I noticed you didn’t seem to mind.”

  The sharp crack of a hoof slamming against Tyndal’s office wall several times in rapid succession cut off further conversation. “What in the world?” Jared stood, walked to her office door, and looked up the hallway. “I know you’re not having any remodeling done over here. So…?”

  “I’ll give you one guess.”

  “The colt? You put Brat next to your office? Are you crazy?” Deserved or not, Jared and the staff nicknamed her foal Brat. When he wasn’t living up to it, Tyndal mostly thought the name was funny.

  “He’s the one making all that racket?”

  “Right on your first try. He has a short attention span.”

  Even though she didn’t have anything against her laptop, she sympathized. The colt was bored with being shut inside the stall, and she was tired of being cooped up, tired of the work, and the worry. For example—why, when the man of her dreams, nightmares, girlhood fantasies, or whatever he was, stood right in front of her, in the flesh, why couldn’t she say something?

  But what would she say? Uh, Jared, are you going to stay this time? Or, are you going to break my heart? She took another glance at the spreadsheet, saved what work she’d managed to do, and shut it down. She couldn’t move, other than to look up and meet Jared’s eyes. To feel the sudden kick when she found his gaze on her. Those laughing blue eyes were sometimes wicked, sometimes so gentle she wanted to weep. At the moment they held a touch of humor, probably from the noise the colt continued to make, but there was more. Tenderness. That alone could undo her. But more than tenderness, there was love.

  She’d seen the same, the very same expression on her grandfather’s face whenever he’d looked at Fionola. Their marriage wasn’t easy. Chase suffered his first heart attack when he was too young. They’d lost their only child, their son, in an accident and took on the job of raising a granddaughter. Her. They’d made her feel like it was normal for her to have two sets of parents—Mommy and Daddy in heaven, and Chase and Fee at Morg
an’s Walk. There were pictures of her parents in her room and on the walls of the barns. And always there was love in Chase’s eyes for his wife and for her. She’d seen it so often she’d recognize it in a heartbeat. For an instant, she couldn’t breathe.

  “Tyndal?” The expression on Jared’s face grew to include concern, compassion. “Thinking again? Thinking of what was and what you can’t change?”

  “How do you know? How could you possibly know?”

  “Easy. I’ll even answer your question one of these days. In the meantime…” He walked to her side. “Let’s go check on your bundle of joy before he puts a hole through the wall.”

  “I thought Raj was bad. I don’t know, maybe Chase had a special way of handling him. With this guy, it’s something new every single day.” Tyndal took a deep breath as the noise level increased. “I keep telling myself I’m up for the challenge. But for heaven’s sake, do you see that?”

  They stood at the half door to the stall where, sure enough, annoyed at being ignored, Bhetami’s colt whammed away on the partition with his flinty little hooves like a man working a jackhammer.

  Opening the door, Jared stood back as Tyndal slid inside the stall and grabbed the colt by his halter. “Quit that.”

  At her command, the colt dropped his head, took a step closer, and started chewing on her jeans. “No teeth, either.” She pushed his head away and pulled a carrot from her pocket. “Come on. Let’s get you outside.”

  Laughing, Jared moved so he could watch as she worked with the foal, feeding him small bites as a treat.

  “He seems to be enjoying breakfast.”

  “He is. He’s perfectly happy so long as he’s eating or being played with. That I have other things to do doesn’t matter in the least. Which reminds me, you could leave now.”

  “Not ever.” The two words hung in the air, almost like a promise.

  The colt didn’t know it, but Tyndal made a game from the various ways she touched him. By using the sound of her voice, she taught him to trust. Each light touch asked him to position his feet, to angle his body, to lift and stretch, and the colt followed along without being aware of learning anything.