by Rachel Lee
“Hold your hand palm up and let him sniff you,” Regina said. “Then you can pet him and you’ll be friends for life.”
Friends for life sounded like the best alternative with an animal so big. She glanced at Rory and found him watching with amusement.
Still unsure but determined not to show it, Abby held her hand out as directed. Rally leaned his head forward and sniffed at her hand. His breath was powerful, matching his size, she guessed.
“Now you can scratch him behind the ear,” Regina said.
Abby did so and enjoyed the way the dog suddenly grinned and wagged his tail even harder.
“Friends for life,” Rory said. “But seriously, Abby, Regina cleans up after him and feeds him.”
“Right,” Regina said. “Can I see my room now? And you said you have a big studio. Am I allowed in there?”
“Any time you want.”
The two of them headed upstairs to pick the girl’s room, but Rally remained behind. Abby stood looking back at him, wondering if he wanted more petting, more water, or just to hold her prisoner. She had no idea.
Drool started to drip from his jaw. He extended a big tongue to slurp it away. And for some reason that made him look less dangerous to her. Big, sappy dog, she thought.
She extended her hand again, and this time he leaned into it, encouraging her scratches. Okay then. Not a prisoner.
Almost laughing at herself, she moved. He backed away, watching with his head cocked. After she refilled his water bowl, he drank half of it. Apparently satisfied now, he amazed her by loping for the stairs, following Regina’s voice.
This could work, Abby thought. Well, it kind of had to. And thank goodness this was such a big house. The dog had made this huge kitchen feel small. Briefly.
Regina seemed nice enough, a great relief since she’d been expecting a hellion. Of course, that could change, but right now everything appeared to be all right.
She caught herself as she started pulling out the ingredients for dinner. She had developed a terrible habit of expecting everything to turn out badly. Everything. She didn’t even know that child, but here she was making assumptions that it would all go to hell.
“Thank you, Porter,” she muttered to her absent ex-husband as she began to slice thawed chicken breasts into small cubes for chicken Alfredo. She needed a major attitude adjustment of some kind. She just wasn’t sure how to do it.
For what seemed like ages she’d been living in a sea of pain and betrayal, and it wasn’t as if she could wash it away with a shower. Trust had been shattered, suspicion had become a way of life and apparently so had the belief that everything would go south eventually.
Not a very optimistic outlook for a twenty-six-year-old woman. She had a lot of years left, and unless she wanted to become a paranoid recluse, she needed to get over this hump.
Hump? Right now it looked bigger than the Rocky Mountains she could see out back.
* * *
For over a week, everything went well enough. Regina came home from school, grabbed a snack and either disappeared to her bedroom or out to the barn to do her schoolwork. She pretty much left Abby alone. While Regina was at school, Rally hung out with Rory, whether he was in the barn or walking the fields. Abby grew sick of cleaning the same bathrooms and bedrooms and doing the laundry and keeping up with the dust.
Dust ended up everywhere, not surprising given that autumn had dried out the area and quickened the breeze, but on so many polished surfaces, from kitchen to floors to railings, it was a nuisance to keep up with and couldn’t be ignored.
She served Rory and Regina their dinner in the dining room, and ate her own in the kitchen before she cleaned up the dishes. Usually Rory showed for dinner, and she could hear him and Regina chatting and laughing. A couple of times he didn’t return from the barn, leaving his daughter to eat alone. She didn’t seem to mind.
For the first time it struck Abby that this job could bore her to madness. She needed something to do for herself, a project or a hobby. She’d always had a job, but nothing like this one that made so few real demands on her.
Every room had a TV tucked somewhere, including her own, and a satellite dish outside provided a wide selection of viewing, but TV couldn’t occupy her for long.
She was used to being much busier. Except for cooking, this job could have been handled in two or three days a week.
Well, Rory had told her she was free to do as she liked, so she could go to town and visit friends who would probably only try to sympathize with her about Porter and Joan, or question her about the habits of her famous boss. Neither appealed to her.
Standing in the middle of the stainless-steel kitchen that desperately needed something to bring it to life, she looked out the wide window over the sink. In the distance she could see trees tossing in a freshening wind and tumbleweeds rolling like gigantic bowling balls. Toward the mountains, she saw heavy, dark clouds building.
A change in the weather would be nice. Any change would be nice. “Gah!” she said aloud.
Regina should be the one bored to death, she thought, but the girl seemed quite happy. Also willing to ignore Abby. She thought about Regina’s room, and while it was beautifully decorated, it was rather Spartan in an emotional sense. It lacked personal belongings, other than a few things she had brought with her. Was that how she had lived with her mother?
If so, she felt sorry for the girl. She wondered if she should offer to take her to town to get some decorations to make the room her own. But maybe that would be overstepping.
It was almost a relief to hear the front door open, even if it meant only that Regina would race to the pantry, grab a snack and a can of soda from the fridge and vanish again. Movement. She needed movement. Life. Activity. More than dust and bathrooms, laundry and cooking.
Regina popped in as always, with a shy, “Hi,” then headed for the fridge.
Abby broke the routine. “How was your day?”
Regina paused, can of soda in hand, and turned to look at her. The refrigerator door swung shut behind her. Then she smiled, that same heart-melting smile her father sometimes displayed.
“What’s up?” she asked Abby.
Now how was she supposed to answer that? Finally Abby grabbed what little courage she had left and spoke the truth. “I am bored with cleaning, cooking and washing. There’s not enough to do. So I asked how your day was.”
Regina tilted her head to one side, then a giggle burst out of her. “Dad said I wasn’t to bother you.”
“Oh, please bother me.”
Regina’s giggle turned into a laugh. “Okay.” She pulled out a chair at the table and sat. “My day was great. I’m making some friends, although I think might be because of who my dad is.”
The statement shocked Abby. That a girl this age should even have to wonder about such things? It wasn’t right. “Or maybe they just like you.”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem with having famous parents. You can’t be sure.”
Abby stepped closer, sympathy rising in her. After her own experience, she completely connected with what Regina was saying. Lack of trust had entered her own life, too. “I never thought of that.”
“I have to. I’ve watched people suck up to my parents because of who they were, and not all of them are nice. So you have to be careful, that’s all.”
“That’s sad.”
Regina popped the top on her soda. “It’s worse for my dad, I think. He can do stuff for people. I can’t do anything for anyone. Do you want one of my Cokes? I mean pop. That’s what everyone calls it here, I guess.”
“Thanks. I have coffee.” Abby grabbed a mug and came to sit cautiously at the table. “I didn’t mean to hold you up. I know you have homework and stuff.”
“Rally’s maybe wondering where I am, but there’s
not a whole lot of homework. So you’re bored? I wondered.”
Abby tried to smile, feeling like a bit of a fool for even mentioning it to the girl. It wasn’t her problem. “Was it that obvious?”
“Well, I haven’t talked to you much, but cleaning all the time would get pretty boring for me.” She furrowed her brow. “No hobbies?”
“Not yet. I used to be busy all the time. This is new for me.”
“I guess it’s new for both of us. When I lived with Mom, she had me signed up for everything. I like being able to choose what to do with my time.” Again that head tilt. Abby wondered if she’d learned it from Rally. “That could change, I guess. Do you like to do stuff on computers?”
Abby thought about it. “You mean like go online? I was never much into that, although maybe I should poke around. I might even learn something.”
Regina giggled again. “Well, Dad’s got plenty of computers. Maybe you should look around and see if there’s something you like. You can even take classes online if you’re desperate enough.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Regina rolled her eyes. “Where have you been hiding?”
“In a marriage and a job. And with friends. Like I said, busy all the time.”
Regina grinned. “Maybe I should stop straightening up my room.”
“Don’t you dare. More cleaning is not the answer.” But Abby had to laugh. She was really liking this child.
“I can’t wait until my stuff gets here,” Regina remarked.
“Your stuff?”
“Yeah, Mom’s supposed to send all my clothes and other things. There was a limit to what I could get on Dad’s plane, especially once I said I was bringing my dog.”
“He would take up a lot of room.”
“And weight. So yeah, I only brought a few things with me.”
Abby hesitated, feeling her heart go out to the child. “Are you glad you came? Or are you homesick?”
“Oh, I’m glad. I never saw my mom anyway, and I hated those nannies. I had to be perfect all the time, and a lot of them didn’t like General. If you don’t like my dog, you don’t like me.”
An interesting perspective, Abby thought. She could appreciate it, though. “Rally’s a good dog.”
“Yup.” Regina stood up. “I need to get out to the barn before Dad looks up and notices the time. Or before Rally starts driving him nuts cuz he knows I ought to be there now. Heck, Rally probably heard the school bus even inside the barn. He’s good at that. Grab yourself one of the laptop computers. I’m sure Dad won’t mind, and they’re all hooked up to the internet.”
She grabbed a small bag of chips, said a cheery goodbye and headed out back toward the barn. Not five minutes later Abby saw girl and dog racing around outside with the sheer joy of being alive and together.
Maybe she should have been born a dog. Nothing she could do about that now, so she went to get a laptop from the front room. Looking around the web might lead her to something interesting.
An hour later, she set the table for dinner. Two places in the dining room, her solitary one in the kitchen. Spaghetti and meatballs, homemade sauce. Crusty garlic bread and a tossed salad. She wondered how many would eat.
Before she could fill serving dishes, however, she heard the back door open. A minute later, Regina entered the kitchen carrying two plates that she put on the kitchen table.
“What?” Abby asked.
“This is silly” was all the girl said. In another minute, she had three places set at the kitchen table.
“But your dad...”
“Doesn’t mind,” said the deep familiar voice of Rory. He stood in the kitchen doorway, smiling. “Do you?”
“Of course not.”
“Good, because I was starting to feel like a feudal lord in that dining room. All I need to fill it are about twenty minions. Tonight you sit. Regina and I will wait on you.”
Abby felt her cheeks heat. “That’s not...”
“It’s perfectly right,” he said. “Now sit down, Abby. Regina is looking forward to this.”
Abby looked at Regina, who was beaming. “I am. I never got to do this at Mom’s. You might have to give me instructions.”
“I can do the instructions,” Rory said. “I wasn’t always a too-big-for-my-own-hat superstar, you know. I grew up on a ranch and everyone pitched in. I even used to cook and wash dishes.”
Regina giggled. “You do dishes?”
Rory pretended to scowl at her. “I do indeed.”
“This I want to see,” his daughter answered pertly.
Deciding she really had no choice in the matter, and honestly not minding it because it was fun to watch, Abby sat at the table while Rory and Regina worked to serve the meal. Rory gave gentle instructions, but only when needed, allowing his daughter to do most of the task. Abby’s help was needed only when they didn’t know where to look for something, such as the ladle.
“Really sorry, that’s me,” muttered Rory. “I ought to know what’s in my own kitchen.”
Regina answered. “Your head’s too busy filling that hat.”
He laughed. But then Regina turned and gave him a big hug around his waist. “You’re cool, Dad. And the important thing is writing your songs. I like that new one you’re working on.” Then she went back to serving dinner.
“It’s giving me fits,” he admitted. “Long ago, before I made it, I used to have more melodies and lyrics floating around in my head than I could use. Feels like the well went dry.”
Which, thought Abby, was probably what he’d meant about this place rebuilding him. He’d lost something essential, and he wanted it back. She knew the feeling all too well, except in her case she’d finally reached the point where she didn’t want any of it back. But for him it had to be different. This was not the kind of divorce any artist wanted, she was sure. Watching him move around the kitchen, he didn’t appear troubled, but he sure appeared attractive. The background sizzle he always elicited in her had arisen again. Attracted to her boss? Not good.
Soon they were gathered in a cozy group around the kitchen table. Abby complimented the food generously and Regina said, “I’d like to learn how to make the spaghetti sauce by myself. I could have my friends over for a spaghetti party.”
That caused Rory to lift his head. “So you’re making friends?”
“Of course. It’s easy when your daddy is Rory McLane.”
Abby tensed, watching Rory’s reaction to that. Sadness seemed to flicker over his face. “Sorry, kiddo.”
Regina shrugged. “They’ll get over it soon enough. Then I’ll find out who’s for real.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “How old are you again?”
She giggled. “Old enough. It’s okay, Dad. And actually, I like it. Here I’m meeting kids who don’t have famous parents. It’s different.”
His smile faded again. He looked as if he wanted to say something, then decided against it. Regina didn’t miss the cues, though.
“I know,” she said. “Mom was into the whole scene. Who I could hang out with, all that. I almost never got to meet ordinary kids.” She twirled her fork in her spaghetti. “How can I ever be ordinary if I’m always in a box?”
“A box?” Rory asked.
“A box. That’s how I felt.” But she didn’t seem to have any other way to describe it.
Abby listened to this, both troubled and amazed. She had never before considered what it might be like to be Regina, to have two famous parents. She wished she could ask questions, but Regina had moved on to talking about other things, like getting a horse, leaving Rory to look vaguely troubled.
* * *
After dinner, having been dismissed from dish duty, Abby followed her usual custom of disappearing into her suite at the back of the house. It w
as a cozy space, decorated pleasantly in warm yellows and blues, clearly designed with a woman in mind by the decorator.
She had a bedroom, a sitting area with a small kitchenette and her own bathroom with a separate shower and a walk-in whirlpool tub. Elegance beyond any she had ever known. All by itself it was a livable apartment, and from the windows in the sitting area she had a beautiful view of the mountains and the barn where Rory was working. She even had her own private entry from outside.
Nicer than any dwelling in her entire life, and even though she enjoyed it, sometimes she felt a bit like an impostor. She didn’t come from wealth and saw herself as an outsider looking in. She wondered if Rory ever felt that way.
Her parents had owned a small catalog store that had thrived for many years, but had eventually gone broke with the upsurge of internet shopping. Abby had started college a few years late as she tried to help them through the hump, but finally her dad had found a job in Colorado Springs and they had moved away. They’d sent small sums to help with her school expenses, then she’d met and eventually married Porter. When she’d had come back here as a new bride, she’d been hired by Joan to look after Joan’s dress boutique, a small business with a select and limited clientele. Everything had seemed perfect.
Until Porter announced he was leaving with Joan. She supposed, in those moments when she was able to find some gratitude, that she was lucky they’d decided to leave town. Joan sold her boutique, Porter found a job as a clerk with a big law firm in Idaho and the two had vanished...after Porter sold his family house in town.
Since his betrayal, she’d been working as a waitress at the truck stop, nursing her wounds, unable to see the possibility of ever getting herself unstuck, emotionally or physically. She’d had to rent a small apartment, all she could afford, and the community college offered no classes beyond the ones she’d already completed. She’d been looking at a bleak future until she saw the ad for this job.
Now she could sock away enough money to go to the state university. If she could hang on long enough.
She wished she hadn’t told Regina how bored she was. She ought to be feeling awfully grateful, boredom aside. Life had given her a stepping stone to a brighter future, even if she no longer knew what she wanted that future to hold.