Kentucky Groom

by Jan Scarbrough

  Carrie shook her head. Her heart hurt as if she’d just run a marathon, and she experienced a deep regret—probably the same aching regret Carter faced at the moment. “I don’t believe Jay hates you.”

  He searched her face. “Do you love him?”

  She fought off his probing question, reluctant to answer given her recent argument with Jay. Drawing a deep breath, she touched the arms of her chair. Truth was important. She had seen the destruction of lies in her marriage and preferred candor to the kind of half-truth Jay had given her.

  In a thin, reedy voice, she answered, “Yes.”

  Carter shifted in his chair. “Jay’s a lucky boy.” He turned his head away, and Carrie barely caught his next words. “Luckier than I am.”

  Anger pulsated through Carrie’s fingers. She gripped the chair. The arrogance of this man! Why was he allowing self-pity to distract him from the real issues—Jay’s recovery and his own lack of involvement in the lives of his children? Sure, tragedy often changed a person’s heart as it appeared to be changing Carter’s, but Carrie refused to sympathize with him.

  “Do you love your son?” Carrie asked without forewarning.

  Carter didn’t answer for a moment letting her question sink in. “I suppose he told you that I don’t love him.”

  “He told me you were never there for him when he was young.”

  Carter passed a hand over his face and shut his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he stared straight at Carrie. “My father was an alcoholic. I grew up dirt poor and at loose ends myself. I vowed I would never be without money and that my kids would have the best money could buy.”

  Carrie gazed keenly back at him, but didn’t comment.

  Carter continued, “Okay, I can see by your expression you’ve made your own judgment.”

  “I have my opinion,” she hedged.

  Carter frowned, climbed to his feet and began to pace. “My personal history doesn’t justify my bad relationship with Jay, you’re thinking. I should have been a better father, but I always had his welfare at heart. I pushed him. Tried to make him the best he could be.”

  “You’ve just admitted you regret forcing him into computers,” Carrie pointed out.

  “I know I was wrong. Hell, is that what you want to hear?” Carter stood in front of her glaring down at her like a sharp-eyed bird of prey.

  “You don’t have to get defensive with me.” Carrie’s head began to pound. “It’s Jay who needs to hear your apology.”

  Like a deflated balloon, Carter sank back into his chair. “I’ve never known how to tell him I love him.”

  Carrie moved a hand to touch his arm. Carter looked at her with such pain that she wondered if his heart had already broken.

  “You’ve just gone about it wrong,” she said with sudden conviction. “You don’t just say I love you, throwing money or empty words at the person you love. You show your love by spending time with your loved ones. You do things together.”

  Carter turned his head, avoiding her eyes. “But I had to make a living.”

  “A living, but not a fortune.”

  “It’s not that easy.” He turned back to send her another defensive glance. “I did what I had to do.”

  Carrie withdrew her hand. “Sure.” She raised a shoulder to shrug, knowing he would never fully admit his failing. “If you want another chance with Jay, let’s just hope God gives it to you.”

  They were quiet a minute. Then Carter touched her arm. “I’ve changed my mind, Mrs. Mercer. If Jay comes out of this, I want you to care for him. I don’t want to drag him away from Kentucky and the woman he loves.”

  * * * *

  Feeling wrung out like a twisted washcloth, Carrie stood silently beside her sleeping child in the private hospital room. Her mind lethargic, she couldn’t bring herself to face what she had to face—Jay’s life-threatening injury and the devastating loss of her home. Besides, her conversation with Carter had exhausted her, making her even more frustrated. She doubted anything she said had affected him. In his stubborn pride, Carter defended his hurtful actions. Much like his son had defended his own lie. The similarity was striking.

  Bone weary, Carrie kicked off her heels, the hospital floor cold beneath her stocking feet. She didn’t understand Carter. How could a parent forsake his duty for so many years? How could he neglect his own child? With her remaining energy, Carrie reached down and brushed a blond tendril of hair away from Jesse’s brow. The child’s delicate skin was cool against her fingertips.

  Some people would fault her judgment. To them, Jay’s failure to tell her the truth about his past would not be seen as a problem. No one was really hurt after all, they’d say. But Carrie couldn’t reason that way. She wanted a man she could trust. A man who could accept her and have faith enough to know whatever he told her would rest safely with her.

  Jay’s lack of trust spoke to his lack of acceptance of her as a woman, as a human being.

  Her thoughts brought tears to her eyes. Or maybe it was the strain of the evening. Or the fact her daughter’s breathing rose and fell in a gentle rhythm. Jesse was safe and sound, and Carrie said a small prayer of thanks.

  The treasured blue ribbon lay on the night table. Picking it up, Carrie felt the smooth satin fabric and touched the rosette with the plastic picture of a horse in its center. With the ache of love, she leaned down and touched her lips to the cool forehead of her baby. Then she carefully placed the ribbon on the pillow beside Jesse’s head.

  Chapter Nine

  Two weeks after he had almost lost his life, Jay looked at the world from his hospital bed with a strange sense of disconnection. The various tubes that had dripped fluids into his body and the catheter that had drained them out were now gone. The white turban-like bandage on his head remained as well as the bruises on his arms, now turning green and yellow as they healed.

  The only constant in his life was Carrie. With eyes heavy-lidded and a sweet lethargy enveloping him, Jay watched her as she stood at the hospital room window. Sunlight threw a blanket of light across her profile, illuminating the delicate skin of her cheek and the sensuous curve of her mouth. Her hair was pulled back from her face as if it were too much trouble to deal with, and her blond braid lay heavily on her shoulder.

  He was intensely and physically aware of her slim figure, almost gaunt now from loss of weight. Her hands rested lightly on the windowsill, and the curly upturn of her lashes fluttered against the brilliant light. When she turned toward him, her eyes held a haunted look.

  His chest felt tight. He wanted to take her into his arms, love her, protect her, and let her know it would be all right. But the languor that engulfed him prevented his action. He felt as if lifting his arms would be too hard, too much effort. She gazed steadily at him.

  Carrie didn’t have to be here with him, but she was and had been with him every day since the fall. Her mother had come for the first week to watch Jesse. Now Mary took care of the little girl, for Carrie and Jesse had moved into the vacant doublewide mobile home on Mary’s farm. They had to. There had been no place else to go.

  Jay’s eyelids drifted over his eyes. Carrie had lost everything in the fire. Everything but Jesse. In his mind, he heard again Carrie’s terrible scream, and relived the terror of the fall, the horrible sinking feeling as the trellis broke under the added weight. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t save Jesse. Instinctively he had sheltered Jesse as they fell.

  Then everything had gone black.

  After that, he had lost three days of his life. Three days that held no meaning for him. It was an odd feeling and maybe part of the reason for his detachment with the world around him.

  Jay smelled the faint fragrance of Carrie’s perfume. That part of his world, at least, was still vitally intact. His senses seemed sharper, he thought as he heard the soft in and out of Carrie’s breathing. With expectation, he opened his eyes. She was standing beside his bed—her eyes hooded, her face grim.

  “I thought you were asleep.” Carr
ie touched the edge of the bed, but avoided touching him.

  He searched her eyes. “You don’t have to be here, you know,” he said, his voice still raspy from the breathing tube that had snaked down his esophagus.

  “I want to be.”

  “Do you?” His question was a subtle indictment, reflecting the resentment that flared suddenly in his heart.

  “Of course I do.” She looked away as if to hide something and then turned her eyes back to his.

  Jay knew she wasn’t telling the truth. Funny, wasn’t it? Truth supposedly meant so much to Carrie. Or it did when it concerned his own omission of fact—that he had bought her husband’s business or that he and his father were millionaires.

  Only Carrie’s sense of duty kept her in this room. He had saved Jesse’s life. She owed him one. What she didn’t owe him was her love. He hadn’t wanted her gratitude, then or now. He just wanted her love—for himself. Ironically, gratitude was all he had from her now.

  Because of the fire. Because of Jesse.

  Details of their argument evaded him. What he remembered with awful clarity was an overpowering sense of frustration, an emotion so demanding that even now it pestered him like a persistent gnat.

  The nerves behind his eyes began to throb. Slowly Jay curled his fingers into a fist, his gaze resting on Carrie like a brand. She must have felt his abrupt anger, for she shifted in her stance as if his look made her uneasy. He hated her wariness. Yet he was too weak physically to make an issue of it.

  Didn’t she know that he had just wanted to help when he bought Tate’s business? He didn’t want her to go it alone. Sure, he may have gone about it the wrong way. Maybe he shouldn’t have interfered. Their relationship had been too raw.

  But he’d never felt like this about another woman—this irresistible impulse to protect. His love had made him impulsive. Should he be punished for that?

  “I know you’re only here because you feel you have to be,” he told her in a quiet voice.

  Looking down at her hand resting on the crisp hospital sheet, he gently took it into his. Her fingers were cold.

  “You gave me my daughter’s life,” she said in a voice equally as cool. “I can never forget that.”

  “I did what anyone would do.” He pressed her fingers.

  “No, you were brave beyond reason.” Her gaze grew intense. “If I had lost Jesse, I’d have lost everything.”

  “I know,” he said.

  Carrie took a deep breath. “I can never repay you for what you did.”

  “Yes you can. You can forgive me.” It was his turn to look away.

  He felt her hand grow still. Then she tried to pull it away, but he held it, surprising himself at his ability to do so.

  “Let go of me!”

  Jay released her hand and, with sadness, watched as she drew it away.

  “Carrie, I’m sorry.”

  She winced. “I don’t want your apology.”

  “Then I don’t want your gratitude.”

  “Well, you’ve got it.” She snapped and swung away from the bed.

  She paced the room, and Jay’s misery increased. This was so hard—to watch her pain and see the stubborn set of her mouth. She wouldn’t give in. She wouldn’t let him help. His stomach clenched.

  “Maybe you should do a little forgiving yourself.” Carrie surprised him with the suggestion as she came back to his bedside. There was fire in her gaze.

  Jay’s eyes narrowed. He was bone-weary. “I don’t understand.”

  “Maybe you should try forgiving your father.”

  “Carter has nothing to do with this.”

  “He has everything to do with this.”

  Anger hammered Jay hard. “I don’t understand what you mean. How could he? We ran into him and his wife by chance. He didn’t even know I was in Kentucky. He didn’t even come see me after the fall.”

  “You’re wrong. Carter came here the night of the fire.”

  Carrie’s revelation dumbfounded him. Jay stared at her in puzzled silence.

  She must have understood his shock, for her attitude softened. Eyes shaded, she moved nearer to his side and touched his arm with a tentative hand, making his breath go shallow.

  “When we thought you wouldn’t live, he was right here in the ICU with me. He stayed until we knew you’d make it. He wanted to take you back to California with him.”

  “Why didn’t he?” Jay asked in a querulous voice.

  “I talked him out of it. I told him you’d want to be here, in Kentucky, where you’d been happy. I told him I’d take care of you.” Her fingers brushed his arm once more. His skin felt on fire. “I hope I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Their gazes connected in swift communication. He laid his hand over hers. “You were right. California holds nothing for me.”

  Carrie nodded. Seeming uneasy by their contact, she pulled her hand from underneath his and moved away once more.

  “He calls every day to check on you.”

  “He doesn’t talk to me.”

  Carrie turned to glance at him, giving him a knowing grin. The fire in her eyes going smoky. “Until a few days ago, you couldn’t talk to anyone.”

  Jay would not allow himself to be humored. “Good to know he cares.”

  She swooped on him like an avenging angel. “That’s what I mean. Listen to how you said that! The childish anger. The bitterness. You need to forgive your father before you can expect me to do the same with you. Maybe if you straighten out this hostility you have for Carter, you’ll come to understand why you couldn’t trust me with the truth about yourself.”

  Jay scowled. “You sound like a psychologist. Go ahead and analyze me. Why didn’t I tell you my real identity?”

  “How in the hell do I know? I just know your father isn’t a bad man, only a weak one. He’s had your best interest at heart, but he went about it the wrong way. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I do know that all of our parents let us down sometimes. They’re only human, not the gods we think they are when we’re children.”

  “So, the Preston charm has worked on you too,” Jay stated sarcastically.

  “Oh!” Carrie’s hand curled into a fist. “You’re so blind. I can see why you two don’t get along. You’re so much alike.”

  “And how is that?”

  “You both are searching for happiness by trying to be who you aren’t—Carter by trying to recapture his youth and marrying women half his age, and you by disguising yourself as a penniless stable groom.”

  “I haven’t hurt anyone by my actions,” Jay said.

  The fire seemed to leave Carrie’s face, snuffed by his denial.

  “Only me,” she said.

  Jay stared after Carrie as she left the room. Having heard the hitch in her voice, he realized that she was telling the truth. He had hurt her.

  * * * *

  Had she been too harsh on Jay? Carrie shaded her eyes from the glaring afternoon sunshine. A light film of perspiration had broken out along her upper lip, and she felt the crevice between her breasts growing damp. She didn’t care about the heat. For some reason she welcomed it, welcomed its piercing honesty. Its consistency.

  Lowering her hand, she gripped the rough railing of the paddock fence. In the distance Mary’s horses grazed with dreamy contentment. She envied these creatures their placid existence. Food, water, a run along the pasture fence. Basic elements. Not like the complications that crowded her life.

  Tomorrow she would bring Jay home to her borrowed house with its borrowed furniture and cheap decorations. Carrie clutched the jagged surface of the railing. How would she cope with a man whose doctors wouldn’t let stay by himself? A man who still had the power to ignite her emotions.

  Her fingers bit into the wood. How could she offer Jay her love? She had told Carter she loved him. And she did. But at the same time, she knew she couldn’t trust him. It was a curious ambivalence.

  Carrie let out a long sigh. She’d thrown out a challenge to Jay. Forgive y
our father.

  What had made her do that? Was it because, in her heart of hearts, she believed he would never find a way to forgive his father? If he did, she would be forced to deal with her own lack of mercy. Perhaps she didn’t want to forgive Jay, for in doing so, she would have to deal with her own emotions. Was she afraid to love again so soon after Tate’s death? This revelation was like a heavy weight. Carrie could hardly breathe.

  She had loved Tate once upon a time, loved him so much that she didn’t protect herself when it had counted. Yet somehow, theirs had been a cheerless, though dutiful marriage. Carrie had to admit that her husband had been an honorable man. He’d married her and provided for her and their daughter. Their love had been little more than swift, mistaken passion. It had died with the birth of Jesse. Would the love she now experienced die the same kind of hapless death?

  Carrie turned her back on the horses and pushed away from the fence, striding briskly back to the dreary, doublewide mobile home. As she walked, her mind played hopscotch over the ironies of life, the ironies no adult ever revealed to a child.

  For no matter how hard you try, your life never ends up like you plan when you were growing up.

  Chapter Ten

  Wildwood Stables

  Old caretaker’s house

  Stretching out his legs on the coffee table, Jay rested his shaved head on the top of a worn living room sofa. Shutting his eyes, he honed in on the dinner-making sounds coming from the kitchen—the sizzle of frying hamburgers, clatter of dishes, Jesse’s laughter. He was overpowered by a sharp sense of smell—grease from the burgers, lemon from newly polished wood, the sweet smell of Carrie’s perfume that drifted like a specter throughout the double-wide, prefabricated home.

  He was staying with Carrie for the next few days before going back to his apartment over the stables. Was he up to the challenge?

  Jay was determined to win back Carrie’s love and knew full well he must court her again. It had been easy the last time. She had been open and trusting. Now she was closed off, distant. He regretted that distance. Somehow, he would overcome Carrie’s misgivings and win her trust back.