Storms

by Gerri Hill

  “Tell me.”

  Carson shook her head, not wanting to relive it, but Kerry’s hand slid lower, their fingers entwining.

  “It’s not always good to keep things inside. Sometimes it’s better to open up, to let things escape.”

  Carson shuddered as the whole scene came back to her—the bear, the screaming, the fear in the horse’s eyes. It happened so quickly, there was nothing she could have done. Back then, she’d convinced herself that she could have—should have—done something to stop it.

  She met Kerry’s eyes, seeing compassion there. Not sympathy really, but concern. She looked away, pointing to the pile of rocks just off the trail. “There,” she said. “We rode up on a grizzly bear and her cubs. We stopped to let them run off, but once the cubs went to the trees, the momma bear turned and charged us. My mother’s horse reared up and threw her. She landed on the rocks there,” she said. She turned away, unable to look at the spot as her mind flashed all-too real images. “Her horse ran, trampled her. Her skull was crushed,” she finished in a whisper.

  She knew she would feel Kerry’s hands on her and she did. Kerry walked up behind her, both hands rubbing lightly across her tense shoulders, up to her neck, squeezing gently. She said nothing, waiting for Carson to continue.

  “I could barely hold Windstorm. He wanted to follow the other horse. The bear...the bear ran off finally,” she said. “And I carried her down on Windstorm.” She swallowed. “She was already dead.”

  Kerry squeezed her shoulders hard, then continued to rub her back but didn’t say anything. Carson was glad she didn’t. She stood there, letting Kerry soothe her until finally her hands stilled and moved away. Carson closed her eyes, wishing for her touch again but it didn’t come. Carson turned to her then, their eyes meeting. She wasn’t really surprised at what she saw in Kerry’s. She wondered if Kerry could see what Carson was still trying to hide.

  “I always thought that the trauma I felt, the pain and guilt I’ve carried with me all these years, was because of her death. Now that I’ve been back, I realize that it wasn’t. I’ve accepted her death,” she said. “It was an accident. That’s all. I’ve accepted that.” She moved away, going back to the rocks. “The trauma I felt was because of him. When I brought her back to the ranch, a scared eighteen-year-old kid, nearly hysterical, he looked at me and said ‘My, God, what have you done?’. That’s what he said to me. Nothing consoling. Just accusing.” She took a deep breath, turning back to Kerry. “They took her. Chance was there, Johnny Mac too. And I’m crying. I was in shock. I couldn’t even complete a sentence. It was the next day before I could even tell them what happened. And that’s when he started blaming me. I should have seen the bear. I should have controlled the horse. I should have done this, I should have done that,” she said. “It was all my fault. That’s all I heard until the day we buried her. By that time, I think I believed his words.”

  “That’s when he sent you away?” Kerry asked, her words nearly a whisper.

  “After the funeral, he called me into his study and...well, we had our last big fight. And yes, he sent me away.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kerry paced in her room, listening for signs of Carson. The unopened laptop held no interest for her. Dinner had been a quiet affair, mainly because Carson never showed up. When it became obvious Carson was skipping, Kerry had hurried through the meal, apologizing to Martha for not savoring the food she’d prepared.

  “Is Miss Carson all right?” Martha had asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Kerry said.

  And she still wasn’t. After their ride, after the horses had been brushed down, Kerry had headed to the bunkhouse to check the contractors’ progress and Carson went to the house. That was the last Kerry had seen of her. She found evidence she’d been in the study as the bottle of scotch and one lone glass was out on the desk. She’d gone in search of her, looking everywhere except her father’s room. She wouldn’t intrude in there, but she doubted Carson had sought him out for solace. He was the cause of her pain. She wouldn’t go to him for comfort.

  No. That is what Kerry tried to offer earlier. And Carson had accepted it, the light touch upon her back as she told her story. Kerry couldn’t imagine the pain she felt, the grief she carried, or how alone she must have felt. Even now, Kerry could see it in her eyes—loneliness. Kerry had wanted to gather Carson in her arms and hold her close, to chase away her loneliness. But she hadn’t dared. Not then. Not at that moment.

  She wouldn’t lie to herself though. She knew she was changing, that her feelings were changing. Every day she felt the connection grow stronger, and she wasn’t frightened by it any longer. Not really. Even Carson, with all her gentle flirting, though she said she was teasing, underneath it all, Kerry knows there’s some truth to it. They’d both been flirting with each other in some way, because the attraction was strong. So strong that she thought she should try to fight it, but it felt right somehow. It felt too right, too good. She didn’t want to fight it.

  Had that been what she’d been doing all along? All these years? Fighting subtle attractions to women? Sure, she could admit that she had, on occasion, thought about sleeping with a woman. She’d always enjoyed the company of women. She felt much more relaxed with women than men. She assumed all women felt that way. But was that it? Was it an attraction? Was that why she never could find fulfillment with a man? Was that why Cody held no interest for her? Why none of the handsome Cartwright brothers did? All single, all eligible, yet none of them stirred any interest in her.

  Carson, on the other hand, made her feel like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode.

  Was it disconcerting? Confusing? Yes. But frightening? No. She could feel the change in herself and she wasn’t afraid of it.

  So she paced, wondering at what point she should become worried. At what point should she think about going to look for Carson. Should she go look for her?

  Probably not. Carson obviously wanted to be alone. Kerry decided she wouldn’t intrude on her. But sleep eluded her and nearly two hours later as she lay wide awake in bed, she heard quiet footsteps in the hallway. She sighed with relief, listening as those steps stopped outside her door. Her heart beat just a little faster as she imagined Carson standing there, debating whether to knock or not. She didn’t. Kerry heard her leave, then heard the quiet click of Carson’s door.

  Kerry rolled over, away from the door, ignoring her instinct to go check on her. She had to remind herself that, essentially, they were new friends. And new friends didn’t just rush across the hall to make sure things were okay. She punched her pillow and closed her eyes, content to at least know that Carson was back and apparently safe.

  Carson turned on the lone lamp in the room, then quickly shed her clothes. She had showered before dinner, as had become her routine, but she hadn’t planned on an evening hike. It just...everything hit her at once. Her mother’s death, being shunned by her father, being sent away, being alone...and lonely.

  She hadn’t wanted dinner, and she wasn’t in the mood to talk, wasn’t in the mood for questions, so she hid in the study with her father’s scotch. But she couldn’t shut her mind down, couldn’t stop old memories, old conversations from replaying over and over like a skip in a record. She’d bolted from the house, taking the long, winding road away from the ranch, walking until past dark. When she returned, lights were still on so she escaped to the stables, finding Windstorm. She brushed him while she talked, and he was patient and listened.

  She smiled and shook her head. Good thing no one was around to witness that. But she felt better, more in control again. She hated that her memories and her father’s words still had such a hold on her. It was that hold that she was trying to break free of, she realized. Maybe that’s the real reason she’d come back home. To finally sever the ties to the past.

  The house was dark when she’d come inside, except for the one light at the back door that was left on for her. Martha’s doing, most likely. Or Kerry.

>   She knew Kerry was probably worried about her. Their bond had grown strong in a few short weeks. That was something else that surprised her. It was simply effortless with Kerry. An invisible cord linked them, pulled at them, pushed them together. Kerry felt it too, she knew that now. She could see that when Kerry looked at her, that sense of awe in her eyes at the attraction that had sprung up between them. Was Kerry frightened by it? If so, she didn’t shy away from Carson. But Carson suspected that on some level Kerry must be terrified.

  Which was one reason Carson hadn’t knocked on her door to let her know she was back.

  She slipped on her robe and went out to the bathroom, wanting to clean up before bed. She was suddenly very tired.

  Chapter Twenty

  Kerry closed her door quietly, not wanting to wake Carson. Downstairs, she found Martha in the kitchen kneading bread dough.

  “Homemade bread?” she asked as she poured a cup of coffee.

  “I’m making a stew for dinner,” she said. “I thought it would go good with that.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  Martha formed the dough into a ball, then placed it in a bowl and covered it with a cloth. “To rise,” she explained as she washed her hands. “What would you like for breakfast?”

  “I’m not really hungry right this moment,” Kerry said. “Maybe I’ll sneak back down in an hour or so.”

  “That’s fine, dear.” Martha helped herself to a cup of coffee and joined Kerry at the bar. “Did Miss Carson come in finally?”

  “I heard her come up about eleven, but we didn’t talk,” she said.

  “Well, I hope she’s okay. Her brothers don’t appear too fond of her. Well, Chase, of course, but not the others.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Do you know why she left all those years ago?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, they’ve never said outright, but I’ve heard bits and pieces over the years. They said she just abandoned them after their mother died. Just up and left and they never heard from her again.”

  Kerry shook her head. “No, he kicked her out. He made her leave.”

  “Mr. Cartwright? But why?”

  “I think he blamed her for his wife’s death,” Kerry said, wondering how much she should be sharing with Martha. Some of the things Carson told her, well, she knew they were private.

  “She was thrown by a horse. What did Miss Carson have to do with that?”

  “I don’t know, Martha. People, when they grieve, they say things, do things that don’t make sense.” She paused. “What’s he like?”

  “Well, he’s...he took me in after my husband and daughter were killed. Gave me a home. Now the brothers, they’re always so nice, so thoughtful. But him?” She shook her head. “He’s a cold man, a hard man. I don’t know if he was always that way or if he turned that way after his wife died.”

  Kerry suspected he was always that way.

  “Is it true about Miss Carson? Is she a gay?”

  Kerry smiled but was able to contain her laughter. A gay? “Yes, she’s a lesbian,” she said, thinking how much fun she was going to have when she shared this conversation with Carson.

  Martha smiled shyly and patted her hand. “You like her, don’t you.”

  “Well, sure, I like her. We get along fine.” Then her eyes widened. “Oh, you mean like her? In that way?” She shook her head. “No, no, no. It’s not like that. We’re friends.”

  “Oh, that’s right. It’s Cody you fancy,” she said with a chuckle as she went into the laundry room.

  Kerry stared after her. “What? What just happened here?” But she got no answer as she heard the dryer turn on. My, but isn’t Martha perceptive. She topped off her coffee cup again. “I’m going to the bunkhouse,” she called as she slipped out the back door. Today she would drive the half-mile instead of walk it.

  Carson slept in, only waking when the sun hit her face. She’d taken to sleeping with the window open, the curtains pulled back. She enjoyed watching the night sky. Unfortunately, the morning sun wasn’t quite as kind as the midnight moon had been.

  She listened, hearing the banging of wood again in the distance. No doubt Mr. Burris and his crew were already at it. As was Kerry.

  She stood and stretched, yawning around a moan as her backed popped. She stumbled sleepily to the bathroom, wanting a shower. She didn’t linger, feeling a bit anxious to start her day. She smiled at herself in the mirror. To see Kerry, she admitted.

  When she went back to her room, she was surprised to find her pile of dirty laundry had been removed as well as the sheets stripped. She dressed in clean jeans and a T-shirt, but took a sweatshirt with her. She still wasn’t used to the cool mornings.

  She met Martha coming out of the laundry room and she raised her eyebrows. “You steal my clothes?”

  “Oh, I was washing a load of Miss Kerry’s things, and it was just as easy to include your jeans and stuff. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Carson grinned. “Don’t mind at all. But you don’t have to do that. I’m perfectly capable.”

  “I’m sure you are. I, however, am particular about my laundry room,” she said with a smile. “Now, what would you like for breakfast?”

  “I’m actually starving,” Carson admitted as she eyed the coffeepot.

  “I should say so, what with you missing dinner,” she said, her tone indicating she should not do it again.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sure it was delicious. Maybe I could just have some of that for breakfast,” Carson said, adding sugar to her coffee.

  “How about a breakfast sandwich? I’ll make two. Miss Kerry left without eating.”

  “Yeah, I heard all the banging down at the bunkhouse. I’m sure Mr. Burris is happy to have his supervisor back,” she said.

  Martha smiled. “She takes it very seriously. I only hope this works out.”

  “Yeah, me too.” She watched as Martha cracked two eggs into a pan. “What kind of sandwich?”

  “Egg and ham on toast,” she said.

  “Sounds good.” Carson rubbed her flat stomach, wondering how many pounds she’d gained since eating Martha’s cooking.

  She finished her coffee, watching Martha’s easy, efficient movements. In no time at all she’d produced two sandwiches and placed them side-by-side on a platter and covered it with foil.

  “Now, you run and take this to her before it gets cold.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she said. She grabbed two water bottles and dutifully went to find Kerry.

  No one was about when she got there so she went inside, leaving the plate and water on the kitchen counter. She followed the sound of the hammering, finding herself in a huge open area where once twenty small bedrooms had been. Kerry was talking to Mr. Burris—talking and pointing—so Carson didn’t interrupt. Kerry noticed her soon enough, excusing herself and walking over, a smile on her face as she approached.

  “Hey. Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry I bailed on you last night.”

  “It’s okay.”

  They stood together, only a few feet apart, then Kerry surprised her by wrapping her arms around her and giving her a tight, albeit brief, hug.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Because I wanted to do that yesterday and I didn’t,” she said.

  Carson nodded, her eyes never leaving Kerry’s. “I’m okay. I just wasn’t going to be very good company, so I took a walk.”

  “You don’t have to explain.”

  Carson finally looked away. “So, how’s it going in here?”

  “Oh, we’re making progress. They should have it all cleaned out today and ready to start tomorrow.”

  “Good.” She pointed back down the hall. “Listen, I brought breakfast. Martha said you’d left without eating.”

  Kerry smiled and took her arm, leading her back toward the kitchen. “What’d you bring?”

  “A sandwich. Egg and ham,” she said, watching as Kerry lifted the foil, in
specting her treat.

  “Mmm,” she said. She grabbed the plate and motioned for Carson to follow her. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  They stepped back out into the sunshine and went to the three old pines that shaded one corner of the bunkhouse. Kerry sat down and leaned against a tree and Carson did the same, sitting opposite her and crossing her legs. Kerry handed her one of the sandwiches and accepted the water bottle Carson held out for her.

  “What do you think about adding a small porch?” Kerry asked as she took a bite. “Oh, God, this is good. I’m getting very spoiled by Martha’s cooking.”

  “Anything would taste good right now,” Carson said. “I’m starving.” She, too, took a bite, savoring the thick, smoky ham. She smiled as she chewed. “Good,” she mumbled around a mouthful.

  “That’s what happens when you skip dinner.”

  Carson smiled, then looked back to the bunkhouse. “Where do you want this porch?”

  “Well, the only thing there now is just the little concrete slab at the front door. I was thinking we could enlarge that, say to twenty-by-twenty, maybe put a railing up or something. You know, make it a sitting area.”

  “The view’s not great. You’re looking at the barn and stables,” Carson said.

  “True. But we need something. We’re offering the great outdoors, yet we don’t have a place for them to sit and enjoy it.”

  “Then make a specific area,” Carson suggested. “Put a nice deck in, big enough for patio furniture. Have it face the valley. Or put it on the back corner and you can get a view of the lake and the valley,” she said.

  “And we could establish some sort of walkway to it, like out of stone or something,” she said. “I like it.”

  “Yes, but you’ll need to get the guys to like it as well,” Carson reminded her.

  “I know. They’ve put me on a very tight budget. If we do that, we’ll have to kill one of the piers. Those aren’t cheap.”

  “I imagine not.” Carson ate the last of her sandwich, then wiped her mouth with her hand. “So, how’s the website coming along?”