Jesse

by Reina Torres

  See her. Yes, that was the point.

  “I did have a nice conversation with Mister Kirkendahl.”

  Her father gave her a nod. “Good to hear.”

  “I spoke to him about the grocery store layout and he told me that I needed to ask you before he’ll agree to try a new layout.”

  Her dad blinked at her. Once. Twice, before he spoke. “I’m sorry,” his voice was barely a whisper, “you asked him what?”

  “The way the rows of the grocery store are laid out could use a change. We have some older customers who have difficulty walking all over the store. I suggested to Mister Kirkendahl that we consider putting some of the products that are more popular with our elderly customers in one place. After that, there are some questions about where to put some of the more sensitive products that we sell.” When he didn’t immediately speak, she continued, hoping that her courage would keep her going. “Like sanitary napkins. It’s not easy for women to shop for them when they are right by the counter. It should be somewhere private.”

  Her dad began to stammer. “S-s-ssanit-tary napkins? Are you insane?” He took a step closer to her. “You shouldn’t even say those words, let alone be talking to a man about where they belong in a store!”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but her father cut her off.

  “And Kirkendahl actually let you talk about this with him?” Shaking his head, he paced a couple steps away. “Can you imagine, talking about those things… with my daughter?” He whirled about. “You’re not to speak of this with him- or anyone, ever again! You stick to doing what I ask you, if you want to help. That’s what I need!”

  “I want to help, Dad, but I don’t just want to do ribbon cuttings or advertisements. I’m tired of appearing at local events and standing next to the newest model of the cars you’re selling. What I want to do is work! I want to make a difference ‘in’ the business. I can do things in the offices. I can fill out purchase orders and I want to learn more about running the business.”

  “Why?” He shook his head and laughed. “Why would you want to bother with any of that?”

  “It’s not a bother,” she explained, and hoped that her passion would show through. “I took accounting classes at the night school. I was at the top of my class!”

  “There’s no need for you to get grades of any kind! You’ll be taken care of for the rest of your life,” he insisted, “if you’d do more in that room than skirt around at the edges and hide in the crowds, you’ll probably find someone to take an interest in you.”

  “Take an interest in me? You’re not talking about hiring me for a job.”

  Her father walked closer and closer until he was less than a foot away. Lifting his hand to her cheek, he gave it a few healthy pats and he sighed. “Why would you want a job, Henny? You want a man who’s going to take care of you like I have. You want a man who gives you a big house to live in and gives me a bunch of grandchildren to enjoy.”

  “What if I don’t think that’s the kind of life that would make me happy?”

  He clasped his hands to her cheeks and leaned closer until she could feel his breath over the freckles on her cheeks and smell the alcohol wafting up from his body. “Happy is a roof over your head. Food on the table. Gas in the car. Anything else is gravy. You didn’t have your mother around to explain this to you. She would have told you that a marriage is about an exchange. You take care of your husband and your children. You make the house a refuge for him. And he’ll make sure you want for nothing. Do you understand?”

  Henrietta shook her head. “No. No, I don’t understand. Women aren’t just housewives anymore, Dad. Women are out in the world and working. Sure, they are mothers and wives too but they get to have a life.

  “They get to be someone! I’m sure Mom would have said the same thing. You can’t just expect me to be happy with the idea of being at home all the time. I’ve always gone with you to the office. I’ve always helped people around the office. The car dealership. The grocery store. The dry cleaner. I’ve been there working right beside you! So, you can’t tell me-”

  Her jaw exploded in pain.

  Her head rocked back and over her shoulder.

  And the only reason she didn’t fall to the ground was because she stumbled into the honeysuckle vines covering the brick wall beside her.

  The rough edges scratched her arm, but she hardly felt it. She tried to lift her left arm to touch her cheek, but the muscles in her neck and shoulder felt like someone had hung weights on her and she could only reach across her body with her right arm and hold her other arm to her side. That eased the pain enough for her to hear her father apologizing in low, mumbling strings of words. He lifted his hands to his head and disturbed the pristine comb-lines that were ever-present in his hair. He paced back and forth, closer and then farther, as he struggled to explain his actions, but Henrietta didn’t say a word.

  She felt tears prickling at the backs of her eyes, but she couldn’t manage to say a word.

  Her father.

  Her hero.

  The man who had raised her on his own.

  How could she reconcile those images in her head to the radiating pain still arcing through her cheek and the man with a mottled face, mumbling at her.

  She wanted to leave and managed to say so.

  He’d almost seemed relieved when she managed to get the words out of her mouth. Placing a patented smile on his face he pulled her up against his side, laying her cheek on his shoulder.

  Henrietta doubted that he knew how much pain he was causing her. Nor did she think he really cared at that moment. What she did know was that they were on their way home from this horrible, ridiculous party.

  The lights in the ballroom felt like the sun and surely someone would say something about the tears on her face or the red blotches on her dad’s.

  Surely someone would notice how tense they were.

  How much effort he put into holding her tight against his side.

  But nothing changed. No one in that crowded room could tell that there was anything wrong. No one looked beyond the obvious. No one cared that inside, her heart was breaking.

  Her dad waved at the valet and soon enough they were on their way home.

  The streets in their suburb were rarely busy and when they arrived home, there was no one on the street and only a couple of lights visible in the surrounding houses.

  Henrietta didn’t even wait for her dad to kill the engine in the car, she had her door open and feet on the ground while he was still fumbling with the brake.

  She had her key in the door before he could even get out of the car.

  She only turned around when she heard the hoarse bark of his voice. “Fine! If you want to ignore me, go ahead! You get in your room and stay there! I’ll set you straight in the morning!”

  He was gone a few moments later, the wheels of his car turning a vicious corner and squealing down the street as she sat down in the open doorway. Folding her arms across her knees she laid her head down, favoring her un-injured cheek. She wanted to move and change out of her party dress, but she just couldn’t seem to summon the energy.

  He’d told her to go to her room. He’d sent her to her room like she was a little girl.

  “I’m old enough to drink,” she sighed into the cool night air. “I have an education.” A light in the Greevy house turned on across the street and Henrietta stayed exactly where she was. If Mrs. Greevy was looking for gossip, she wasn’t going to give her any. Her father’s shouts before he left would be enough for the older woman to chew on. Still, she couldn’t sit there all night and she really didn’t want to wait until the morning to address this with her father.

  He’d gone back to the party. He’d paid enough for that party not to go back.

  And if he followed his usually habits, he’d be out until well after midnight. He would manage to park his car in the driveway and stumble inside and fall in bed.

  By morning, he would expect his morning coffee and cust
omary breakfast ready for him before going into the office.

  He would expect her to do that for him.

  Biting into her bottom lip, she continued until the pain brought tears into her eyes.

  Find a man. Marry. Have children.

  Sure, she wanted that, but she loved working with her father. Well, with her father’s employees. Some saw her as part of the family. They spoke with her and encouraged her. The others, like her father, barely had a word to say to her and that was fine.

  She loved the businesses. They were, as her father told her, her heritage. They were the Bradford legacy, but her father had made it clear that he wasn’t about to let her become a real part of it.

  When the light in the Greevy house turned off, Henrietta reached down and unbuckled her shoes. As she stood up, she smoothed out her skirt out of habit. It was brocade over crinolines with ruffles and tucks of organza over her bust.

  Closing the door behind her, she could hear Mr. Forest talking in her head. The older man was the best dry cleaner in a hundred miles, maybe more. He taught her everything she knew about washing clothes and dry cleaning. She’d spent whole summers doing her homework on one of his folding tables.

  Her dress wasn’t the most stylish of dresses, it wasn’t even from the current decade, but Henrietta wore her mother’s dress with pride. She’d worked side by side with Mr. Forest’s wife and his secret weapon in alterations, but her father hadn’t even noticed.

  He didn’t seem to notice anything but what she did wrong.

  By the time she stepped into her bedroom, she had a sinking suspicion that would never change. Nothing she did would ever get her father’s attention in a way that he would see the adult that she’d become.

  She worked for him. Lived in his house.

  And after the party at the country club, she knew exactly what he thought of her future. He wanted her to do what he wanted.

  Looking at the framed picture on her dresser, she saw her mother’s beautiful face staring back at her. “I can’t imagine,” Henrietta began, “I can’t imagine that you’d want that for me. I know you loved me, Mama. I remember that. But I also remember the way you wanted me to do my best in school and get good grades. I’m sure you wanted me to have the life that I wanted.

  “And I may be the biggest fool in the world, but I can’t just stay here and wait for either one of us to change our minds. I think you know us better than that.”

  Setting her shoes on the coverlet of her bed, she got down on her knees and pulled her suitcase out from under the bed. Dropping it down, she made quick work of the latches and swung open the top. The suitcase wasn’t all that big, but she’d have to make do. She scooped her toiletries into a tote bag, taking a moment to make sure they were closed and wouldn’t pour out in her bag. From there, she opened her underwear drawer and tossed everything in the suitcase.

  Turning around to look at the closet and the rest of her drawers she knew she was in trouble. There wasn’t a lot of time to pack. Her father might turn around and decide to argue with her again, so rather than pick through the clothes in her closet, she took her hamper and dumped the whole thing into the suitcase. At least she knew those were the clothes she used. The ones she fit. There were too many items in her closet that she should have gotten rid of years before, but she’d kept clothes from her earlier years when her mother had been alive and then later, she’d rescued her mother’s clothes when her father was dead set on throwing them out. She could probably have found more clothes to take, but she knew the longer it took her to pack, the bigger the chance that she’d give in and stay. Even with just the clothes in her hamper, she saw that the suitcase was nearly full. She knew that there wasn’t much more that she could take with her. The trunk of her car was a tiny little thing and she wasn’t going to try to shove anything into the back seat. Yanking her blanket out from under the suitcase, she did a haphazard job of folding it and tossed it on top.

  Going back to her closet, the last thing she picked up were her favorite pair of Keds. Slipping those on her feet, she tied them without even looking.

  Grabbing up her picture with her mother, she set it on top of the pile on one side of her suitcase and strapped down the clothing on the other. It took more than a huff of breath to get it closed and she had to lean on the top to make the latches catch, but once she did, that loud CLICK CLICK echoed in the room.

  Was it that easy?

  Pack up and leave?

  Then why did she feel like she wanted to throw up?

  Her stomach turned as she looked around her room and took in all the things she was leaving behind. Posters on her walls. Her trophies from pageants. Her baton from twirling with the Gold Valley High School band. They all seemed like they were from a far away part of her life.

  Or was it that she just wanted that to be true?

  She wanted to do more… and be more than her father thought she was.

  That her father was going to ‘let her’ be.

  Picking up her shoes from that night, she shoved them in her tote bag and her purse followed along. Lowering the suitcase to the floor, Henrietta tried to ignore the stab of pain from the weight of it, and with her tote bag over her shoulder she dragged her suitcase down the hall.

  The door to the open garage made it easier to go that way out of the house and a few minutes later she was on the road and on her way to a new life.

  And scared witless because of it.

  Chapter Two

  JESSE

  Pulling into the parking lot beside the Sagebrush Motel, Jesse set the parking brake, and sat back in the cab of his truck. He had his share of work set for the next day. There were only a few days before he’d have to run a Hollywood actor through his paces and make him into a passable cowboy.

  His mother had tried to ease his worry in ways that only she could. She joked and cajoled, and when that hadn’t worked, she brought out her cobbler and cream.

  Yes, his mother knew exactly how to sweeten his disposition.

  Seated in his truck, he knew he had to get moving. Doing his laundry was something his mother always offered to do, but he could handle that on his own. His father called him a damn fool for going into town to do his laundry, but if he used the machine at home, he knew his mother would try to fold and iron it when he wasn’t looking.

  That, and he liked to do these kinds of chores at night. It was cooler and quieter at those times.

  Gave him some time to think.

  Looking in through the wide windows, he could see there wasn’t anyone using the machines at the moment. Perfect time for him, because he knew that he’d have some time to sit and talk with one of his favorite people in Gold Valley.

  Pulling his key from the ignition, he opened the door and slid out of his truck. As soon as his boots hit the pavement, he shoved his keys in his hip pocket and reached back into the cab. Grabbing up the ties of his laundry bag he hefted it out of the truck and slung it over his shoulder.

  The door swung closed as he turned around and he took a quick look at the motel parking adjacent to the lot. Many of the crew members working on building the set were holed up at the motel. Even before his father had taken over at the ranch, the owner of the Sagebrush and Campo de Oro Ranch had a mutually beneficial agreement. The crew of any movies or television shows filming would have a set discounted rate to live at the motel as long as they were working there.

  Trucks and flatbeds were there in decent numbers with a couple of vans and personal vehicles. Just the sight gave him a good feeling. Seeing this many vehicles meant that the ranch was working.

  That was good for everyone.

  Stepping up onto the sidewalk, Jesse saw a car coming down the road, heading in their direction. Curious, but not unheard of at that time of night, Jesse crouched down a little to get a look at the vehicle.

  A Hornet, interesting.

  The woman behind the wheel, even more so.

  Dark hair and a creamy complexion, she was slowing down and looking ou
t the windows on both sides of the vehicle.

  Definitely not from this area.

  Anyone from this area would have known what they were looking for. For the blocks in any direction, there was hardly a business that had changed much in nearly twenty years. The area was, more often than not, populated by families that handed down their homes and businesses through at least one generation.

  When the car cruised on by the Sagebrush, he shook his head. He had things to do and chasing a car just to get another look at a pretty woman… Adjusting his hold on his laundry bag, he headed for the doors of the Clean Machine.

  When he pushed the door open, he heard the tell-tale shimmer of bells from the contraption hanging over the door. Shaking his head, he walked on into the room smiling.

  Mrs. Nakata came around the corner and waved him closer. “I had a feeling you’d be in.” She beamed at him in her usual welcoming way. “I was beginning to worry.

  Jesse smiled at the older woman. She bore quite a few similarities to his mother, most of all, she was always worrying about him. “I’m in here once a week. You’ll tire of me soon enough.”

  Shaking her head with a punctuated motion, she gave him a glower that only earned the name because she was trying to be fierce. “Never, never.”

  Dropping his bag onto one of the tables he pulled and tugged at the thin rope that was used to close the bag and wiggled it loose enough to dump out his clothes.

  Upending the bag, he shook out the clothing inside and watched it pile up on the table.

  “Did you leave any dust on the ground?”

  She laughed at her own joke and he joined in with her.

  “Some.” When he thought the bag might be empty, he reached in and turned it inside out. There was a sock stuck in the bottom and he quickly pulled it free and dropped it onto the pile. “But I’m running out of ways to impress you, Betty.”

  Her rounded cheeks colored as she waved him off. “I’m going to make some tea, Jesse. Would you like some?”

  “Would I?” He looked up and saw the mischievous glint in her eyes. “You know I do.”