Love Somebody Like You

by Susan Fox

  “Flaunting yourself and leading guys on is way different from wearing flattering clothes and being outgoing.”

  Of course they were. How had she let Pete persuade her otherwise? “He kind of, well, brainwashed me, Ben.” And she’d let him do it.

  “He was an asshole. You’re single now. You can dress and act however you want.”

  As if it were that easy. “I don’t know what’s appropriate. I don’t trust my judgment.”

  “Just look at Cassidy, Jess, Brooke. Attractive, bright, interesting women.”

  That did make sense. Why had she let Pete rule her even after his death? “I guess you’re right. I’ve been so isolated. . . .” She had another sip of water. “That was Pete’s doing.” But she was getting ahead of herself.

  She picked up the story. “When I accepted his proposal, he wanted to get married right away and start our life together. He liked the world of horses and riding—he was a weekend rider—and said his job with the construction company was boring. He wanted us to start a business. It was so exciting. Exciting enough that I didn’t mind giving up rodeo. Besides, I wanted to be with Pete, not traveling the rodeo circuit. I really was crazy, head-over-heels in love with him. Stupid in love. So eager to listen to all his advice.”

  She opened her eyes and glanced at Ben, his strong-featured face even more striking in the sun’s fading rays. “I had no business sense. Mom had always organized my rodeo career. She booked everything and told me where and when to show up. She banked my earnings and gave me, like, an allowance or paycheck, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have saved anything. Pete, though, he had a degree in business and was a site manager with that construction company.”

  “I can see that you’d listen to his business savvy,” Ben admitted in a grudging tone.

  “We did discuss it. What we could do with our skills and our love of horses, and what we could finance based on the money we’d both saved. We came up with the idea for Ryland Riding together. He hunted for properties and found this one, with all the basic stuff we needed.”

  “In British Columbia.”

  “He said he’d hunted in Alberta too, but this was the best deal. Besides, he said it would be good for our marriage for it to be just the two of us. He made it sound so romantic. My parents were upset, though. They said we should take more time and think things through. They didn’t want me to move away.” She sighed. “I should have listened to them, but I was young and in love. Besides, I had no idea that they’d cut me off completely.”

  Remembering what her sister had told her, she said, “Though now I’m not sure they did, or whether Pete did that.” She told him about that morning’s phone conversation, and how Pete had controlled their e-mail, mail, and only phone.

  Ben whistled. “Sounds to me like the guy deliberately isolated you from your family. From your old friends, too?”

  She nodded. “After we got settled here, I finally had a chance to write thank-you notes to everyone who’d given us wedding presents. I wrote something personal to most people too, like how I hoped distance wouldn’t keep us from staying in touch. I expected at least some of them to respond. But no one did.”

  His dark brows had pulled together. “Pete took those thank-you notes to the mailbox.”

  She nodded. “He dealt with all the mail.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “I was so stupid. But he loved me. He always told me how much he loved me. When he said my parents had cut us out of their lives, he said it was better this way. Him and me against the world. He said we didn’t need anyone else.”

  Ben leaned over and rested his hand on her jean-clad knee. “You see what he did, right? By isolating you, he not only bound you tighter to him, made you dependent on him, but he took away your chance to get other people’s perspective. They would have criticized him, made you doubt him. He couldn’t have that.”

  “You’re probably right.” She bit her lip. To this day, she didn’t understand Pete. “Or maybe he just really loved me. He said that thing from that Jerry Maguire movie, about how we completed each other. He said we were two halves that made a whole. He didn’t need anyone else and didn’t see why I should.” She’d felt cut off and lonely, and disloyal for feeling that way.

  Ben shook his head. “Seems to me, if you love someone, you don’t tell them what they need. You ask them.”

  “He did, sometimes. But he always had some reason why I was wrong. Like, I wanted a radio because I love country music, and a TV, just because I’d always had one. He said our life should be about our marriage and our business, and that radio and TV were frivolous distractions. I admit, I still don’t have a TV because there’d be no time to watch it. So, you see what I mean? He was kind of right.”

  “But you always have the radio on in the kitchen.”

  “I do. And here’s another thing. I wanted us to get chickens. We had them on the ranch where I grew up, and I loved them. But he said they were messy, noisy, and time-consuming, and it was easier to buy eggs.”

  “It wasn’t about the eggs, though. Not for you.” He patted her leg. “If your chickens never laid another egg, you’d still keep them because they’re your friends.”

  “Yes.” Her emotions were so close to the surface, she felt tears rise. Not just at the thought of her hen friends, but because Ben understood. And he didn’t seem to think she was foolish. She puffed out a breath and struggled for composure. “Pete was old-fashioned about what a husband should do and what a wife should do. His parents had had that kind of home.”

  “Speaking of his parents, did he cut off contact with them, too?” Ben let go of her leg to reach for his beer.

  She missed his touch. “They died in some horrible car accident when he was in his late teens. And he had no siblings. I was it. His entire life.” She’d felt sorry for him, that he had no one but her. All the while, he’d been scheming to ensure she had no one but him.

  “Anyhow,” she said, continuing with the story, “he worked hard building the indoor arena, doing maintenance, handling the business. When he absolutely had to have help, he let me assist, but he didn’t like to. He wanted me to concentrate on the horses, the lessons, and the house. The house had to be clean and tidy. A hot dinner had to be on the table when he got in from work, and I had to have showered and changed into a dress.” She’d given all those dresses to Goodwill after he died.

  “I tried,” she said quietly. “I tried so hard. But I kept messing up. I’d be positive that he’d said he’d be back for dinner at six-thirty, but then he’d come in at six and I’d still be in jeans and the meal wouldn’t be ready.” Remembering, she shivered. “He’d be mad.”

  Ben was glad it was almost dark now. It meant Sally couldn’t tell how tightly his hands were clenched into fists. Trying to keep his voice level, he said, “And then he’d hit you.”

  Her head was down and she swallowed audibly. Breathed, “Yes.” A moment later, she went on. “He’d slap me, or grab my arm and fling me across the kitchen. Or force my fingers down on a hot stove element.”

  Anger coursed through Ben’s body so forcefully that it was all he could do to stay in his chair.

  Sally drank the last of the water and put the glass on the table. Still not looking at Ben, she said, “He’d berate me. Say I made him do it.”

  “No,” he said flatly. “You didn’t.”

  “When he hurt me badly, he’d apologize. He’s say he was sorry, but that it was his job as my husband to help me be a good wife so that we’d have a strong marriage. If he went into town, he’d bring back flowers.” She gulped. “Female clients told me how lucky I was to have such a romantic husband who clearly adored me.”

  “Shit. How could people not see him for what he really was?”

  She gazed at him, her eyes huge in the dusky light. “He really did adore me.”

  “If so, it was in a sick, perverted way. The man was an abuser, Sally. Pure and simple. There’s no excuse for what he did.”

  Her sigh was weighty and
tired. “I’m not totally stupid or inexperienced. I knew about domestic abuse. A few times, I stood up to him. I said I wouldn’t forgive him, and I was going to leave him. But he’d tell me how much he loved and needed me. He said I needed him, too. That I couldn’t walk out on Ryland Riding; I’d have no way to make a living. He said I’d be all alone, there was no one I could turn to. That he was the only one who wanted me and appreciated me.”

  Ben’s jaw was clenched so tightly he couldn’t speak. He forced himself to relax the muscles. “Emotional abuse. He isolated you and undermined your confidence.”

  “It’s easy for you to apply labels.” There was a small flash of spirit in her voice, and he was glad to hear it. “You weren’t there, Ben. You didn’t live twenty-four-seven with the man.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know that labels don’t explain what it was really like. I’ve heard about that kind of abuse and I know you can get trapped so it doesn’t seem like there’s any way out. So you even think you deserve to be treated that way.”

  She ducked her head again. “Sometimes I wished he would die,” she confessed in a barely audible whisper. “And then he did.”

  “You didn’t cause it. Not that I’d blame you if you had.”

  After a long moment, she said, “Maybe I did cause it. He was mad, yelling at me, coming after me when he had the heart attack.”

  “Then he deserved it.”

  She gave a small gasp. “Ben, I . . . I didn’t try to help.” She wrapped her arms across her chest. “He fell and he was conscious. I didn’t call 911. I ran away. I l-let him die. Later, the paramedics said there was nothing anyone could have done, but I didn’t even try. And I lied to everyone. I said I’d been in the house when it happened. That I found him later, already dead.” Her eyes searched his face. “Does that make me a horrible person?”

  “God, no.” Gently, he tugged one of her hands free from its grip on her upper arm. Cradling it in his, he said, “It makes you an abused woman who was terrified of her abuser.”

  She didn’t pull her hand away, but nor did she return the pressure. “And that makes me sound like a victim. Which I guess I was. But I hate to think of myself that way. Maybe that’s why I was in denial.”

  “He messed with your mind. No wonder you couldn’t sort things out.”

  “Even after he died. At first I couldn’t really believe he was dead. That this wasn’t one of his traps to make sure I obeyed his rules. And then, well, my mind was still such a muddle. I couldn’t sort it out.” She wove her fingers through his. “Until now. Until you helped me.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’m so damned glad you dropped that bottle and broke those glasses.”

  She gave a small, surprised laugh. “I am, too. I never thought I’d be glad to break something, but it brought everything to a head. Pete would have hit me, but all you cared about was that I didn’t hurt myself on broken glass. You know those times when you said I could trust you, that you weren’t like him? Well, it finally truly sank in. And it’s sunk in that Pete really is gone and I never need to be afraid like that anymore.”

  They sat in silence as darkness fell around them. A shrill whine near Ben’s ear had him slapping his cheek, hoping he got the mosquito before it got him. “It’s cooling off and the skeeters are out. Hang on a sec.” He went into his rig and came back with a couple of lightweight cotton hoodies. When he gave her one, she took it hesitantly, then put it on as he did the same. They both pulled up the hoods to protect their necks and ears.

  He hadn’t turned the outside light on, but enough light came through the windows of the trailer that he could see how small and feminine she looked, dwarfed by his overlarge hoodie. She brought out his protective instincts, yet he knew the best thing he could do for her was help her believe in her own strength.

  “You’re free of Pete.” He made it a statement, hoping that she’d accept its truth. “That means you really can move on. What do you want your life to be like, Sally?”

  “Whew. That’s a big question. I do love it here: the scenery, the climate, my horses and hens, my students. Once, I’d assumed I’d have a happy marriage, a home.” She paused. “Children.” Another pause and then, “Pete didn’t want children. I got pregnant, and when he found out, he beat me and I miscarried.”

  “Oh shit, Sally. That’s . . .” He was so shocked and horrified, he didn’t know what to say. “God, I’m so sorry.” He paused, but had to ask. “Do you think it was intentional? Did he want you to lose the baby?”

  She blinked back tears. “I don’t know. I hate to think it, but . . .”

  “Why didn’t he want kids?”

  Her shoulders straightened. “Looking back, I’m starting to see the forest, not just the trees. Maybe Pete did love me, but he was possessive and jealous. He didn’t want me giving affection to anyone, or anything, other than him. Not my family, not my horse, much less my own baby.”

  Ben nodded. “And if he’d ever hurt your child, you’d have left him. Loving your kid would have given you the strength to go.” He had to wonder whether Pete came from an abusive family, and his mom hadn’t found a way to leave.

  “God, I hope so.” The self-doubt in her eyes almost did him in.

  “I know so.” She would do anything to protect her child. How could he know this woman better than she knew herself?

  Her eyes were glazed with tears again. “Thank you, Ben.”

  For a few minutes, they were quiet. Then he said, “That was then. How about the future? What do you want now, Sally?”

  She sighed, picked up her water glass, and then put it down again when she saw it was empty. “I guess . . . I’d still like all those things—love, a family—but how can I trust my judgment when it comes to men? How can I know if a relationship will be healthy? I let Pete control me. I let myself become dependent. I let myself be abused and didn’t walk away.”

  He wanted to argue with her, yet it was a fact that she’d done those things. If she met another man like Pete—a thought that roiled his blood—might she do the same again? He sure as hell hoped not.

  She sighed. “This morning, Andrew, the new student, said that young people are too inexperienced to be sure if the love they feel is the forever kind. I think I’m even less confident now, past the age of thirty, that I’d have the sense to recognize the right kind of love.”

  “I hate it that Pete did that to you.”

  “I hate it that I let him do it.”

  “Then don’t let him keep doing it. Oh, I’m not saying to leap into the arms of the first man who comes along, but why not get your feet wet? Socialize; have coffee with some guys.” Damn, it was painful forcing those words out. The next ones came much easier. “If you want to try your wings, feel free to use me as a guinea pig.”

  After a pause, she said, “Aren’t those mixed metaphors, or some such thing?”

  “You know what I mean. I like you a lot, Sally. I sure hope by now you know you can trust me.” He badly wanted to touch her, but figured she might hear his message better if he didn’t. “You must also know that I’m attracted to you.”

  She sucked in a breath. “How could you be? I’m such a mess.”

  “You’re strong and beautiful. And sexy.”

  “Ben, I can’t . . . I don’t . . .” She sounded confused and exhausted.

  “Hey, I’m not gonna push. I’m just saying, when you’re ready to test your wings, I’d be mighty happy if you took that first flight with me.” He rose. “We need to get some sleep. I’ll walk you to your door.” Ben took the wildflowers out of the glass and handed them to her, then held out his hand. He liked that she didn’t pause before putting hers into it.

  He tugged her to her feet. “I know you’ve got a lot to think about. Just, while you’re thinking, don’t forget about me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sally woke on Tuesday feeling kind of spacy. Light, like she’d been drained. Tired, yet exhilarated. She thought of the well-worn expression: today is the
first day of the rest of your life. For years, she’d assumed that each day would be much like the previous one. Since Pete’s death, those days had been pretty darned fine. Yet now she had a sense of possibility, of hope and a new self-confidence. Life could be more than pretty darned fine; it could be fabulous.

  It was all due to Ben.

  In the kitchen, she admired the bouquet on the table. Whatever her life might look like, she’d make sure it included wildflowers.

  Out in the chicken coop, she sat on the top step with her half-finished mug of coffee beside her. Gertrude, a Barred Rock, clambered onto her lap. “What happens next?” Sally murmured as she stroked the hen. “Aside from the wildflowers?”

  The creature clucked contentedly and Sally smiled. She had followed her instincts when she got her flock, and they hadn’t steered her wrong. Maybe her judgment wasn’t as bad as she thought it was. “At least when it comes to chickens, eh, Gertrude?”

  Shortly after, when Sally entered the barn and saw Ben in a stall, his back to her, doing the utterly prosaic task of mucking out dirty straw, something stirred inside her. He’d proved to be a true friend, from shoveling manure to helping her start healing from the psychological damage Pete had inflicted. He’d heard her deep, dark secrets, he’d seen her at her worst, and still he supported her. What’s more, he was attracted to her. This amazing man wanted her. Not because she was a convenient female and he was horny, but because he really saw her and cared about her. Chapped skin, baggy jeans, touchiness, hang-ups, and all.

  Was she ready to consider being with a man? The only one she could imagine trusting that much was Ben. The only one she could imagine being attracted to was Ben. He made her aware: physically aware of him and of her own body, aware of sensuality and sexuality. Aware of possibilities. It was seductive, and yet . . .

  Could she even imagine having sex again?

  That act had become so fraught. With Pete, lovemaking had at first been romantic and he’d showered her with compliments. But over time he’d become critical. Sometimes he hurt her. It got to the point that she couldn’t lose herself in physical pleasure because she never knew when he might pinch or slap, or pound into her so hard she was afraid he’d damage her insides.