Be My Warmth

by Shanade White

  Faith, still tongue tied, gradually worked on calming herself down. Jack Brook, eyebrow raised, placed his hands in his pocket and walked off to consult with the other instructors with the next activity.

  “You learn something new every day,” Miles said. He noisily sipped from his cup. “I would bed that one. She is like cougar.”

  “Might not be a great idea. She’ll eat you alive.”

  “Still, she is insightful, is she not?” Miles slyly glanced between her and Jack.

  Whitney nodded helpless agreement. Nuggets of revelation seemed determined to punch her in the face today. She contemplated Jack Brook. Was it really that noticeable – the attention she’d been giving to him, and that which he lavished on her with his eyes and his chances to engage her in conversation?

  Of course it is, you idiot. You noticed, after all.

  It struck her as surprising, because she never considered herself as particularly compelling or interesting. Just the one who swept the rug that the others trampled on. She bit her lip, before remembering Faith’s mute moment. “You okay, Faith?”

  Faith nodded. “I’m sorry. I… I’ve always been like this. I’m not actually sure… what to make of that. She wasn’t… being so mean. Was she?”

  “We should talk ‘bout it later. If you're up for it.” Whitney placed a hand on Faith’s arm. She didn’t know what ate up the woman, but right now, Faith ranked as the nearest thing to a friend in this adventure. And somewhere, if she could listen and help Faith – maybe she would gain the tools to help others – like her estranged family.

  Jack will jump me, eh? The words bounced around her skull.

  Dare she test the waters, later?

  Jack called for everyone, urging them to prepare for the next round of activities. Whitney followed behind Miles and Faith, smiling.

  Perhaps I will.

  Chapter 5

  As they clustered around the dining hall tables with their trays of food, Whitney reflected upon their first day. She also tried drowning out the sounds of Natalie’s boasting, instead picking at her beef stew. It didn’t look particularly special, but whatever spices and additional sauces inserted into it by the cooks gave it a hearty, warming flavor. She ground the meat with relish, taking note of the positions of the rest. Faith, Miles, Anja, Tia and Gracie sat at her table bench. Alex positioned herself one row over with most of the other instructors, and they seemed to be laughing at whatever she was saying. Sandra and Natalie were placed nearest to Jack, who ate with his employees and some of the kitchen staff – and her voice was loud enough for most of the hall to hear.

  “At least she’s not throwing herself on him,” Anja noted, stabbing a fork his way. “Like the last set of guests a month back.”

  Miles nodded, boyish face alight in happiness. “Oh, haha, I remember. Crazy woman. Said she was uh… what is word… psychic?”

  “Yes. She had those fortune telling cards.”

  Whitney played with her food morosely. After the initial set of challenges, they progressed onto training skills that could be used on the ranch. First they started with archery, learning to hold the bow level with their shoulders, notch an arrow and pull the string tight with their strongest fingers. Natalie took to it with expected proficiency – landing a bullseye almost every time. Whitney’s aim began as abysmal and progressed into mediocre. She missed the target fourteen out of the twenty times they had fired, with shots spinning into the grass. Eventually she tacked them to the board, but on the whiter edges, whilst Miles joked in amazement at how much her aim sucked. By the end, Whitney’s shots struck the yellow ring twice. Mortifying to think Jack was watching her, seeing the sheer lack of skill. Faith fared better, though she certainly wasn’t the best. The younger woman spent time encouraging her friend, seeing Whitney shivering in a mix of frustration and anger from the failures.

  Jack Brook passed once, hands on hips, surveying her flustered body language. “You shouldn’t beat yourself up so much.” To the side, Natalie landed another perfect bullseye. “For someone who has never held a bow in their life before, as is blatant from observing you – the progress is excellent. Good work. Now I need to go and compliment the others so it doesn’t look like I’m stalking you too much.” He winked and ambled over to Tia and Gracie – where Gracie, having gotten over her previous attitude, thanks to some choice words thrown at her from both Alex and Tia – actually showed good aim with the bow.

  “You do not need to prove to anyone but yourself,” Miles advised. “He is right.”

  The frustration didn’t vanish. It intensified when they went to roping, where they first practiced the honda knot and the lariat loop, before finalizing with an additional overhand knot over the lariat to complete their training. Whitney learned fast with the knots as she had actually practiced with different types in the past. Then, sticking with their honda knots, they all had to focus on roping stationary targets. These included poles, traffic cones, and some stuffed animals. Eventually, skills permitting, they would end up roping things whilst saddled up on a horse.

  Whitney did not look forward to the prospect of failing more. Natalie, of course, with her stupid rope and ability to excel in virtually anything she did, made the whole experience appear like mere child’s play. It was blindingly obvious she’d done things like this before, though Whitney never would have visualized Natalie in this kind of environment. On the other hand, since Natalie flaunted herself as a high overachiever, it also made a kind of sense. The drive to be the best at everything fit with the superiority complex she had when regarding others. Disappointment wriggled inside. Jack Brook would be running horse-riding lessons tomorrow. Already, Whitney formed the idea for several excuses in her mind to not attend it. This world, the activities – none of it suited her. She was a person of the city, a person tailored to take care of others and keep the ship bobbing smoothly. Outside of that world, her skills resulted in nothing.

  She was worse than useless.

  “It’s been years, of course, since I last went out to my cousin’s ranch –” Natalie was saying, whilst an inebriated Sandra nodded, “But everything just came back to me. It felt really good to have that rope in my hands, and flick it out, knowing for certain that it would wrap around my target. And the bow and arrow – well, I’ve done shooting before, but never with a bow. A similar principle applies with that. Aim steady, have the target in focus – the rest is just trusting your weapon. I have to say, this ranch is fantastic. It’s got decent management, space and facilities. And Jack Brook is clearly a genius in what he does. I’d love to be able to talk to him more about that, and how he runs the place so smoothly.” Natalie rested on her elbow, delivering a pointed stare at the billionaire, who likely could hear her, but instead remained engrossed in conversation with one of his chefs.

  “Oh, yeah?” Sandra nodded like a sycophant.

  “I have a lot of ideas for our company. Someone who manages a place so effectively is bound to have advice I can transition to it…”

  Alex, from her table, caught Whitney’s stare, and rolled her eyes theatrically.

  Whitney chuckled, wrinkling her lips as she did the same.

  Miles, talking to Faith, gestured enthusiastically. “We will have other activities too, which are on team-building. A favorite is the confession, where each of you say something you think is bad about yourself, and then the others will try and make that bad be good. Jack likes that one, too. Here is example. Like, I say, I think I am ugly. Because I have big feet. And other will go ‘No, Miles! You are beautiful! Your feet are normal, don’t be ashamed!’ They are best kind of team support.”

  “I can’t say I’m looking forward to that,” Faith admitted, hazel eyes furrowed in concern. “I don’t really get um, involved much in the office…”

  “That’s right, girl,” Tia said. Her plump bottom lip jutted out as she considered how to talk to Faith. Normally their reactions remained minimal, even less than Whitney, who at least did the rounds to check on her colle
agues. “You're quiet as a church mouse. Yet I been here for twenty minutes hearing you sound like a normal human being. You should talk more.”

  Faith blushed in that cringe-worthy way that made Whitney want to strangle her.

  “Just give her time,” Whitney said. “She needs to trust us.”

  Tia sighed, taking a gulp of apple juice. “I seen girls like you, Faith. They get bullied. You look weak, they prey on you. Law of the jungle.”

  Faith’s hair slumped in front of her face. “I… know.”

  Gracie nudged Tia in the ribs. “Hear ye! Now the church mouse is hiding in her food! We gotta lure the mousey out.”

  “What,” Whitney began, unsure if this was a bullying attempt or not, then groaned when Gracie stood up, and began dancing slowly around their table. “Gracie. No...”

  People turned to stare at Gracie, who clearly didn’t care as she clapped her hands and gave a shriek of laughter. “Coming to the little mousey. Mousey gonna dance with me!”

  Miles thumped his hands on the table in delight as Faith stared at Gracie, half terrified and half confused. Anja bellowed in amusement, shouting something in Dutch. Gracie made it to her chair and with some tugging, coaxing, and encouragement from Miles and Tia, hauled Faith out of her chair to engage in an incredibly awkward dance together.

  Faith, although hunched up, red and nervous, found the ability to laugh as well, especially when people stopped staring and let it slide, and Gracie acted confident and unashamed of their dancing. Apart from the usual: “White girls can’t dance, of course, but I teach you! Wiggle like… this! An… that!”

  Tia bowed to Whitney. “Let’s pretend the crazy ain’t there and continue with whatever it was we talking ‘bout.”

  However, under the chatter of their table, and the mad dancing of Gracie and Faith, Whitney now only had eyes for Jack. He saw the dancing and beamed approval, then shifted his gaze to Whitney. They remained locked for far too long, sending ripples of excitement in Whitney’s gut. She broke off the stare when Natalie turned to see the commotion – so she couldn’t catch the obvious flirting going on. The executive scowled momentarily, before deciding that the dancing wasn’t any sort of threat to her company’s reputation, and continued her loud diatribe. Alex watched it with a smirk.

  The bolt of arousal that went through Whitney made her wonder. She wasn’t imagining Jack’s interest. Alex had likely hit the nail on the head. In fact, Whitney felt somewhat certain that if things kept going the way they did, if they happened to find themselves alone together at a point…

  She shivered at the thought.

  After dinner, evening launched itself in force. The exhausting activities of the day meant that they all had some hours to kill before sleep, without anything extra scheduled. Whitney paced back to her cabin, admiring the blanket of stars above and how clear they looked, without the smog of the city and the street lights dimming their radiance. She left with happier memories of her colleagues enjoying themselves, and not sweating over their workloads. She considered phoning her mother and sharing the news. Upon taking out her phone, examining the luminescent screen, a pinch of sadness stopped the impulse. If her mother didn’t answer, or happened to be too busy to listen, then it would dampen the mood further. She honestly expected her mother to find a reason to not answer – even though the notion struck her as silly. Of course her mother would.

  She wished, suddenly, with the feeling striking her out of nowhere, that her family could be here. Away from the city, away from the scream of cars and being stuffed up in their crumbling apartment, standing here with her now under the visible stars. It was a beautiful lie to behold, picturing them all side by side as she walked in the open, and she clung to it, both sad and happy at the same time.

  “Bet you all would love it here. Boys got a whole ranch, ma and da to break their routine.” Maybe father’s soul held the chance to lift higher, without being trapped at home, or drinking at the bar, listening to their constant annoyance at his inaction. Hell, even the idea of them laughing at her ineptitude sent little warm nuggets of pleasure.

  Arriving at the cabin, she spotted a wrapped bundle at the door. She bent to pick it up, then dug out her key to unlock the cabin and venture inside, turning on the living room’s light. Shutting the door, Whitney unraveled the bundle, finding four battered children’s books, each depicting a title by Roald Dahl. Also found in the packaging was a small bag of sugar cubes and an envelope.

  Amazed, she dropped onto her sofa. Jack had gone by her cabin, perhaps just before dinner, leaving them outside.

  Smiling like an idiot, she first thumbed through the books. They looked old, with yellowed pages. She found herself drawn to the inscription on the blank undercover of one.

  Hey, Jack. Heard you found a new author you love. How wonderful to see you take such joy in reading!

  Happy birthday, kiddo.

  Love, Grandpa and Grandma.

  None of the others held similar inscriptions. To think Jack had given something so valuable for Whitney to read, something that must have been treasured for years. It filled her with amazement. The worn edges spoke of being read many times, of small hands turning the pages, perhaps a younger Jack mouthing the familiar words as his eyes darted across the lines.

  I’ll read these. Don’t matter if I like ‘em or not. Whitney checked the title of the inscribed book. Danny the Champion of the World.

  Raising up the pouch with sugar cubes, she grinned. Graham Cracker would be enjoying those later. Lastly, she broke open the envelope, to find a letter penned in Jack’s eloquent script.

  Good evening, Whitney,

  I hope you will find pleasure in these books as much as I did when I was a child. I still find the time in my days to reread them, as they are a great source of comfort.

  There’s some sugar cubes, to protect you from the wrath of Graham Cracker upon your next meeting. I think he will love it if you pay him a visit. Which brings me to my next point.

  I must say, Whitney, I find you very interesting. But this is not a letter to start inking in every detail that I find fascinating. Those are words to be given in person. This is a letter to invite you, if you be so willing, to meet me at the grazing fields at the location of wherever Graham Cracker has decided to go. (Beware, we might have to search for a good few moments!) I would also advise warm clothing and a flashlight if this idea strikes your fancy.

  I would love to talk some more with you. I’ll be heading there around ten P.M.

  Yours sincerely, Jack Brook.

  P.S: Watch out for ax murderers.

  Finishing the letter, Whitney found her heart racing, and her stomach making little flips of astonishment. Her arms physically shook as she lay down the letter.

  What just happened? What did I just read? Her mind struggled to comprehend it. Somehow, despite her mishaps, her not so impressive display at all the exercises allocated to them today – Jack wanted to invite her. On a date?

  Okay, so they flirted, and talked, but Whitney expected him to be charming. Although a good part of her suspected just where exactly their flirting stares were going, she also kept the other part of herself in total denial that events might escalate. Someone like Natalie – obviously pretty, excelling in everything she did – the woman who belonged in a magazine, suited a man like Jack Brook more. A man who, despite his absurd wealth, acted like his wealth could be found in his surroundings. With no expensive jewelry, watches or adornments, watching him walk down a busy street and picking him out from the crowd would be impossible. He didn’t isolate himself from others. He sat with them, ate with them, joked with them, and he knew all the staff on a first name basis, without having to glance at their badges.

  Then, he also had a slight habit of using ridiculous disguises to hide his features. And mentioning about ax murderers. That man’s a fruit loop for sure.

  Whitney bit her lip, re-reading the letter. She checked her phone. 9.34. P.M. Good Lord, barely enough time to shower and throw on any
decent clothes. Decision made, she practically threw herself into the shower for a quick hose down, then dried off and frantically rummaged through her clothes for something – anything. Did she expect things to happen? Would they just talk? What message would she send to him if she wore this, or that? What message did he intend?

  Why did there even have to be messages, anyway? Why couldn’t clothes just be damn well simple?

  Argh! Now felt like a bad time for self-doubt. She tugged on lacy silk panties with a matching bra – without padding, otherwise her chest would bulge too much – and stuck with simple blue jeans, a long-sleeved blue-black top she buttoned up, and her padded black jacket. Not bothering to untie the laces to her hiking boots, she rammed and twisted each foot until they popped in. She sprayed on some perfume, freshening up more and cleaned her teeth, finishing with placing the sugar cubes in her pocket as she strolled out the door.

  9.51. P.M. Light shone from the other cabins. Sandra hung outside hers, smoking, the fumes drifting into the biting night air.

  Taking a deep breath, which curled like dragon smoke, Whitney crunched her way towards the grazing fields, using her phone as a flashlight. Clouds formed in small whirls above, and a lemon slice of moon hung in clear display. A thought hit her as she reached the fence. Finding Graham Cracker at this time might be difficult. Hell, how would she even know where to begin? Horses roamed and grazed. Their shapes loomed indistinct in the shadows of her flashlight. She either needed to find Jack, or make way to the last place she found the horse. She didn’t really want to go over those fields.

  Boots stomping into the ground, she continued alongside the fence. Thankfully, she didn’t travel far. A shape nearby the fence instantly moved in her direction, breaking out into an eager trot.

  “Oh, my,” Whitney said. “That you, Graham Cracker?” she rubbed her hands together to ward off some of the chill. The chestnut horse stepped into the light fully, whinnying in excitement as he poked his head over the barrier.