Grounded

by Angela Correll

  “None. And I have savings, but that won’t last forever.”

  “How much of a living would you need? You have a place to live. You can grow your own food.”

  “True, but I would need some kind of car, and enough to help with utilities, taxes, insurance, all that. But I see your point. It wouldn’t have to be a lot, especially compared to what I’m used to in New York.”

  “Annie, you could do this. You would have no trouble finding some kind of work around here,” Jake said, his voice growing passionate.

  “I have been happier here, more at peace in the past weeks than I’ve been in years. But I’m afraid …” She wanted to tell him more, that the memories of what might have been would be too much, that she couldn’t bear to live near him and Camille if they ended up living here as a married couple.

  “What are you afraid of?” Jake asked.

  Annie searched for the words, but knew she could not tell him the truth.

  “What, Annie May?” It was what he used to call her all the time, but that was before tenth grade, before things had changed between them.

  “Of the unknown,” she said, and that was truth enough.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Annie hated holding back from Jake, but what else could she do? He sensed her hesitation but she had tried to stop the probing. It was not a surprise to her when he called first thing the next morning. It was his way of making sure everything was okay between them.

  “I’m going to teach you how to handle a firearm before you go back,” Jake said when she answered the phone.

  “I don’t think I need it now that I’m going back in two weeks,” she said.

  “You probably need it worse in New York,” he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “On my way to Mt. Vernon. Camille’s decided she missed me and is coming down tonight, but can’t seem to navigate the country roads past there,” Jake said.

  “She’ll have to do better than that if she wants to go to New York,” Annie said and realized her slip immediately.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Be safe. We’ll talk later.” Annie hung up before he could ask more questions. She was not going to lie for Camille.

  On Monday morning, Annie wrapped herself in a towel and took each step slowly, walking as if she were bowlegged.

  “Grandma?” she called.

  “In the kitchen.” Annie found her grandmother looking over the coupon inserts from the newspaper.

  “Something is wrong. I have a terrible pain in my backside, near my tailbone. It hurts like heck. It’s bigger than a quarter and burns. It’s almost like I’ve been branded with a hot iron.”

  Beulah chuckled. “Sounds like a saddle sore. After riding for three hours, it’s no wonder. There’s some Gold Bond powder in the medicine cabinet down here. It’ll sting a little. “

  Annie found the powder and doctored her sore. It tingled and burned. She waddled back into the kitchen and refilled her coffee cup.

  “I can’t ride with Camille today. I’ll call Woody and tell him not to bring another horse.”

  “Can she ride by herself?” Beulah asked, looking up from her coupons.

  “Sounds like she’s a champion rider from all the trophies she’s won, or so she says. Nutmeg will be a sorry horse for her if she’s as good as she says.”

  “That was when she was a child,” Beulah said.

  “I guess it’s the same as riding a bike. It will all come back to her. Anyway, she’s the one so determined to ride. It doesn’t matter to me if she does or doesn’t.”

  Her grandmother looked at her over her glasses, and Annie felt chastised for something, but she wasn’t quite sure what.

  Cam drove Jake’s SUV over from the Wilders’. Annie felt a pang of jealousy at seeing her in the driver’s seat, as if it belonged to her. She smiled when she got out and waved, no jangling bracelets this time. At least she had the sense enough to leave them off. As spooky as Nutmeg was, the bracelets might send her running into the next county.

  She wore a yellow oxford shirt, with an open collar and a small diamond pendant. Her blond hair was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and she had on dark sunglasses. The blue jeans fit nicely around her slim legs. They were tucked into decorative cowboy boots. Annie took in the whole picture in a split second.

  Be sweet, she told herself.

  “You look nice!”

  “Thanks. I’m meeting Jake later, but comfy clothes might have been better,” she said, nodding at Annie’s attire.

  It was true. Annie had on loose jeans, partially because of her saddle sore, and a cotton T-shirt. Annie gave her one of her best smiles, the one she reserved for customers who were red-faced and irritated at the delay in taking off or the kind of meal they were served.

  “Cam, I can’t ride with you today. I went on a long trail ride yesterday and got a saddle sore.”

  Camille laughed. “Saddle sore? I thought that was something from a Western.”

  “No, actually, it’s very real, I can tell you.” Annie said, ready to change the subject. “Anyway, Nutmeg is all saddled up and ready for you. There’s a whole pasture you can ride in.”

  Camille took off her sunglasses. “Annie, Jake said you two went to dinner on Saturday. I am so sorry you are having such a hard time right now. Jake is so full of compassion for those who are down and out. That’s what I love about him.”

  The insinuation that Jake’s attention to Annie was out of pity cut like a knife, just as Camille intended. Annie fought the urge to lash back. She would not stoop to this woman’s level, would not let her see that she had cut her to the quick.

  In her moment of hesitation, Camille’s eyes softened. “I really like you, Annie. I want us to be good friends. And when we get to New York, I’m hoping you’ll show us around, help us get settled.”

  I’m not going back to New York, she thought. And in that moment, Annie knew it was true. She wasn’t going back to live. Visit often, yes, she would do that, but she was not going back. Even if it meant dealing with her own ghosts and grief-filled memories, she would do whatever it took to stay in the place she loved. Even if it meant facing her own mistakes and missed opportunities every day of her life, she was not going back.

  “Thanks, Camille. I would love to tell you where to go … in New York,” Annie said, mumbling the last part of the sentence. “Nutmeg is over here.”

  Annie led the way to the horse, which looked docile and innocent next to the fence. Annie tightened the saddle like Woody taught her, using her frustration to pull it tight.

  Astride Nutmeg, Camille looked every bit the champion rider she claimed to be. Her back was straight; she held her arms out, holding the reins with enough give in them for the horse to feel some control, and her head pointed forward. Annie could envision her in the riding garb, boots and top hat, and she imagined Camille would make quite an impression on the judges.

  “This walking horse gait is nice, but I would love to get her in a trot,” Camille called from the other side of the barn.

  Annie barely knew how to get on a horse, much less change gaits. She watched Camille go first one way around the lot, and then the other way.

  “She hits a trot, but I can’t get her to stay there,” Camille said, speaking to no one in particular.

  From the other side of the lot, she called to Annie: “Open the gate and let me take her in the pasture. I’ll try her canter.”

  “She usually spooks when the gate is opened,” Annie called back. It was fair warning, but Camille’s response was to kick the horse up in a canter.

  “I guess she doesn’t care,” Annie said to herself. Annie unlatched the gate and debated whether to gently open it, which wouldn’t startle Nutmeg. Then she thought of Camille’s veiled warning, her deception with Jake over the New York hotel, and her size zero jeans. She unlatched the gate from outside the fence and pushed it wide open, allo
wing it to hit the fence with a bang.

  Camille was slowing Nutmeg back into a walk when the gate hit. In one instant, Nutmeg’s ears went back and her eyes grew large. She lurched forward, and Camille was unprepared for the horse’s sudden energy. The motion threw Camille back almost flat on the saddle, loosening her boots from the stirrups. When she managed to upright herself, her legs were pointed straight out to the sides of the horse. Her left boot hit the gatepost as Nutmeg flew through the opening, the impact enough to throw her from the horse. Annie’s heart flew up in her throat as Camille fell in a crumpled heap next to the post.

  “Dear God, please,” she prayed as she ran to her. “Let her be okay.”

  Annie fell on her knees beside Cam, who was moving and stretching out her legs. “Are you all right?” Annie asked, trying to check out Camille’s position to see if anything was broken.

  “Don’t touch me!” Camille spat the words with venom. “You did that on purpose.”

  Annie reached to help her but Camille pushed Annie’s hands away. “Cam, please, you might be hurt,” Annie said.

  Camille dusted off her boots and jeans before she pushed herself up. “I’m fine, but thanks to you, I’ve ruined a pair of thousand dollar boots.” Blond hair bounced as Annie chased her to the pasture gate.

  “Please, let me drive you to Jake’s.”

  “You stay away from me. And stay away from Jake!” Camille was in Jake’s car and had the door shut before Annie could say anything else.

  “I’m sorry!” she said through the closed door.

  Camille did not look at her when she put the car in reverse and spurted gravel from under the tires.

  Annie stood, her hands on her hips, and watched Camille drive off. “I guess that means we won’t be friends,” Annie said out loud. “I’ll sure miss showing you and Jake around New York!” she yelled.

  Her grandmother poked her head out the door. “What’s wrong?!” she asked.

  Annie threw up her hands. “Camille fell off Nutmeg. I pushed the gate open, and it spooked the horse.”

  “Good heavens. Is she hurt?”

  “She was well enough to get in her car and drive back to the Wilders’.”

  “Did you do it on purpose?” her grandmother asked in her usual way of getting right to the point.

  “No! I mean, yes, but I thought she could handle her. I didn’t want her to get hurt. I didn’t even think she would fall off, but I thought it might take her down a notch or two. Ahhhh!” Annie pressed her hands against her head. “Why am I acting as if I were in junior high school? What has come over me?”

  “Better see to that horse before she gets tangled in the reins.”

  Annie had forgotten about Nutmeg. She found her standing near the entrance to the pasture, perplexed as to what had happened. The reins hung loosely to the ground. Annie went to the horse, buried her face in her neck and let the tears flow. She breathed in the animal’s rich, leathery scent and wiped the tears from her eyes with Nutmeg’s shiny mane.

  Annie led the horse back to the barn lot and shut the pasture gate. Removing the saddle, saddle blanket, and girth, she carried them to the tack room, leaving her bridle for last. Nutmeg stood still when Annie changed out the bridle for the halter, then brushed her down after her brief exercise. Annie’s adrenaline was flowing and she felt like she could crawl out of her skin.

  “Annie, what happened?” The calm, deep voice startled her.

  “Is Camille okay?” Annie asked, turning to face Jake. He must have walked over, coming through the crossover on the stone fence.

  “She’s not hurt. What happened?”

  “Camille fell off Nutmeg and ruined her expensive boots. That’s what happened.”

  “She says you pushed the gate open to spook the horse. I didn’t believe her.”

  Annie laughed. “Jake, there are things about Camille not to believe, but that happens to be one thing that is true.”

  “What is it between you two? It took some persuading to get her back down here again and now she’s packing to go back home.”

  “Jake, she has no intentions of living here. That was settled long before she came over here to ride today.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Maybe it was her business after all. She seemed to be right in the thick of it. “She wants to go to New York. Her father has it all worked out. Your future, if you plan on staying with her, is all planned, whether you like it or not. And ask her about her meeting last weekend. It had nothing to do with sales, believe me.”

  His face was flushed with anger, but Annie couldn’t stop now. There was nothing to lose. It had to be said.

  “Jake, she is all wrong for you! You will be making the biggest mistake of your life if you stay with her. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

  She turned and started away.

  “How do you know she’s wrong for me?” his voice called after her. “You haven’t been around me for years!”

  She wheeled around. “That’s right, Jake. And why is that?”

  He walked closer. “You know why,” he said, and grabbed her shoulders with firm hands. “You knew how I felt, what the necklace meant. That’s when you chose Brett Bradshaw and went your own way. You’ve been going your own way ever since.” He almost spit the words out.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her.

  He released her shoulders and said, “Forget it. It’s in the past.” Annie watched him walk across the barn lot, his body taut with anger. What could change if she ran after him? He was angry, and she deserved it. How she had managed to screw up every good thing in her life was beyond comprehension.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Beulah admired the four arrangements of fresh flowers in the trunk of Evelyn’s car. Three were the same size; the fourth was smaller. They were all made with vibrant spring colors, a feast for the eyes.

  “Those are real nice. The florist did a good job.”

  Evelyn agreed. “I put a fresh one on Charlie’s grave for Father’s Day.”

  “This is the first year I’ve missed getting flowers out on Decoration Day. Did Dixie take care of your people this year?” Beulah knew this was always a tender subject. Evelyn’s sister was ten years her junior and not the most reliable person. Twice divorced, Dixie managed to float through life on one drama after the other.

  “No. But when she called this morning and I told her about taking flowers to Charlie’s grave for Father’s Day, she thought that was a wonderful idea. She said she would plant a morning glory on Father’s grave and let it twine around the tombstone.”

  Beulah chuckled. “One round with the caretaker’s weed eater and that will be the end of that,” she said.

  “Of course, but what Dixie says and what she does are two different things. I dared not say anything to her. I was glad she was thinking about it. Need help with the door?” Evelyn asked.

  “I believe I can get it.” Beulah opened it and eased herself in the seat, taking care not to twist her knee. “I appreciate you driving me up there, Evelyn. I planned for Annie to take me, but about thirty minutes after Camille left, she ran upstairs to her bedroom and slammed the door.”

  A look of understanding flooded Evelyn’s face. “That must be where Jake went, flying out of the house after Cam got back. I was upstairs in the sewing room and I heard her pull in. They talked out in the parking lot for a few minutes, and then I saw Jake take off through the field.”

  “So the fight was with Jake, not Cam,” Beulah mused.

  “I’m guessing Cam is at the center of it,” Evelyn said.

  “And Jake said they were leaving?” Beulah asked.

  “He had to take her to her car anyway, so he said he would go on home with her and try to come back later in the week.”

  The two old friends traded glances with each other that a multitude of words could never describe. Beulah sighed deeply. What would become of this mess?

  When t
hey eased past the way to the stone house, Beulah glimpsed the house through the trees and noticed there was only one window covered up now. Maybe whatever the woman was doing was over. Or maybe she wasn’t seeing right. It was time to get a new set of glasses, but she had put it off until after the knee surgery.

  The May family cemetery looked peaceful in the speckled sunlight that came through the tree branches. She took her time getting out of the car, for that was the hardest part. Evelyn already had one of the arrangements out of the trunk by the time she stood up.

  “Where would you like this one?” Evelyn held an arrangement with red and blue ribbons.

  “That looks patriotic. Let’s put it on Ephraim’s grave.” She watched as Evelyn carried it over and placed the arrangement in a Mason jar, then filled it with water from a plastic jug.

  “That’s nice,” Evelyn said.

  Beulah looked in the trunk and pointed to one with pink and yellow flowers. “How about that one for Mama and Daddy’s grave?” Evelyn picked it up. “This one to Jo Anne, and this small one to Jacob.” Beulah supposed it sounded as if she were speaking of them in the flesh, rather than a tombstone, but Evelyn understood.

  “I’ll get the flowers. You grab my arm with your free hand.” Evelyn offered her arm. “The ground is a little uneven.”

  One small step at a time, Beulah made it into the cemetery, but Evelyn had to lean down and put the arrangements in the jars and pour the water. While Evelyn worked, she looked at each grave and the loss it represented.

  Mama and Daddy lived way up into their eighties, a good long life by any standard, but she felt the loss of them even now, deep in her soul. How they grieved for Ephraim, especially her Mama. Beulah still had the flag the government gave them after he died, and the Purple Heart.

  And her own little Jacob, born premature and living only three days, was another grief that seared even deeper than the others. Often she had wondered if he would have survived nowadays with the technology for early babies. She heard tell of babies living who were born much earlier than Jacob, but it wasn’t meant to be, and she trusted the Lord’s judgment in that and the other pains in her life.