How could I have been so stupid? How could I have thought Grandfather would take the ranch from me?
He never intended that, his supposed threats were his way of reminding her that no one should be without a partner. That everyone needed a shoulder to cry on, a mouth to kiss. Someone like Jackson.
Now Kathleen wanted the same thing. They were mismatched and she had no idea how it could possibly work. But that didn’t change the fact she still wanted Jackson. She wouldn’t even make him deal with the ledgers, feed bills, or boarding fees. She would hire a manager. She would deal with it herself. He could go to New York or LA or wherever he wanted as often as he wanted.
If he would only stay. She would never know if she didn’t ask so, angry or not, it was time to face him.
He tossed the last of his tee-shirts into the case and turned to grab shoes from the bottom of her closet. He saw her and froze for a minute.
“If I say I’m sorry, will you stay?” She hated the pleading note in her voice and wished the words back.
“Sorry for what?” Jackson turned away and shoved his tennis shoes into the suitcase before zipping it closed. He headed into the bathroom and began filling a smaller case with his toothbrush, razor, and personal items. “I got us into this mess by planting that stupid marriage idea in your head.”
“But I’m the one who proposed and sent us down the beach in search of a justice of the peace or minister. And when I realized Mitchum was there I begged you not to rat me out like some kind of scared kid. I shouldn’t have begged you to stick with the marriage when it was obviously what you didn’t want. You were right at the Soddy.”
She stepped toward him, reaching out, but he simply stepped around her. Like she wasn’t even there. She took a deep breath and pressed on. “I’ve been so worried about not getting the ranch that I wasn’t listening. To anyone. If I had been, I never would have felt so smothered that I had to run away to Mexico for a few days. I wouldn’t have poured tequila and rum and any other hard liquor I could find into every drink I made.” Never would have seen you again. Life would have gone on as it always had.
Boring, but the way she thought she wanted it. Now, she couldn’t face the ordinary life she always thought she wanted. She wasn’t sure she could face these rooms if he really left. Jackson had shown her how exciting life could be, just by being in her life. She wasn’t ready to give it up.
“You don’t need me here now. Mitchum as much as gave you the ranch, you just have to wait for your birthday. And I don’t need to keep going to San Antonio looking for answers that aren’t there.” Small bag filled, he tossed it next to the suitcase and carefully began unpacking his camera case. Repacking it more securely as if the camera was the most important thing in his life. “We’ll both be better off with a few fun memories and none of the hurt that we know will eventually come if I stay in Texas.”
Kathleen placed her hand over his. “I do need you here, Jackson. And I’d like you to stay for my birthday party. For as long as you want to stay. Not because you need a place to stay while you search San Antonio, but because you want to.”
He eyes shuttered. “It would only pause the inevitable, Kath.” He put the camera case down and caressed her cheek. “Staying together, even for a few more days, isn’t what either of us needs. I don’t want to be married or tied down to anyone. I like my life the way it is. And you’re tied to this ranch. The land, the horses. Your dad and Mitchum. They tether you here and that connection is what lets you fly.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ve never had a connection like that. I’m not sure what I was looking for in San Antonio, but all those days in the city showed me one thing: I like my solitary life. Being part of a family would clip my wings when I needed them most.” With that he gathered his things and left the room before Kathleen could tell him he was lying. “If you are pregnant…We’ll figure that out then, I guess,” he said and closed the door.
She sat heavily on the bed, burying her face in her hands. She won the ranch but lost Jackson. That had never been her plan.
• • •
“You’re holding on too tight,” Barney, the assistant trainer said as he clocked Jester’s latest run. “A full three seconds over his last time. And the run before that was already two seconds slower. You have to let him go.”
Kathleen nodded and rubbed Jester’s neck. “I know,” she said, as much to the horse as to the trainer. “I have to let go,” she whispered when Barney turned back to clear the timer.
“You want to go again?”
“No, I think Jester’s had enough for the day,” she said, sliding from the horse’s back to the ground. She had enough for one day. Ruining Jester’s training by riding when she couldn’t concentrate was exactly what she would do if she took him around again.
Instead, she took the reins and led the horse into the waiting paddock. Together they slowly walked two large circles around the enclosure as Jester’s breathing returned to normal. She loosened the girth, pulled the saddle off, and slung it over a fence rail. She rubbed him down with a clean blanket and then lost herself in the beauty of the hills. Was Jackson home in New York? Was his show shaping up? Had he come to terms with his upbringing?
Did he miss her even a little bit?
Jester nuzzled her neck, looking for his treat.
She laughed and slipped a sugar cube from her pocket. “You did great today, no thanks to me,” she said. “I’ll do better by you tomorrow.” She patted his haunches, sending him off.
Grandfather was standing by the fence, waiting for her. “I know, I know,” she said, holding her hands up before he could tell her to loosen up, too. “I was holding on too tight, not giving him his head. Think I’ll go up to the Soddy, clear my head a little.” She slapped at the dust on her jeans as she walked to the fence.
“It’s been four days, Kathy-bean. I don’t think he’ll come back on his own.” His coffee voice was steady, calm.
Kathleen lifted her cowboy hat, using her sleeve to blot the sweat from her brow. “He’s not coming back, period,” she said. Guillermo exited the kitchen door with two bulging suitcases in his grasp. “What the — ?”
Mitchum looked over his shoulder and shrugged. “Vanessa has grown tired of me ignoring her whining about having no money. I’m not sure where she’s going, but she is definitely leaving.”
“You’d better check those cases for the silver,” Kathleen joked.
“Doesn’t matter.” Mitchum waved a hand. “Apparently one of her friends has opened her heart — if she has one — and Vanessa’s going back to San Antone. Or maybe Dallas. Don’t expect her to be back for your birthday.”
Shrugging, Kathleen crossed the fence. Vanessa wasn’t a good party guest anyway. And Kathleen still hadn’t forgiven her part in Jackson’s leaving. If she had just kept quiet, Jackson would still be here. Maybe with more time he would have seen that he belonged here. With Kathleen.
“And he won’t be back, either, if you don’t call and ask him.”
“I can’t. He was very clear. He doesn’t want to live in Texas.” Doesn’t want to be with me. “He has his life the way he wants it.”
“You sure about that?” He rested a hand on her shoulder.
“To quote you: doesn’t matter. He’s sure and that does.”
“I’m sorry, Kathy-bean. I thought I saw things differently when you two were trying to pull that fast one in Puerto Vallarta. There was something there.” Mitchum grasped her hand and squeezed. “Ahh, but I’m an old man. I’d better go help Guillermo,” he said and slowly walked to Vanessa’s Porsche in the driveway.
For at least the hundredth time Kathleen considered packing a bag and going to New York for a few days. She quickly discarded the idea, knowing Jackson wouldn’t appreciate it. Maybe he just needed time alone to realize that being alone wasn’t what he really wanted.
S
he saddled Trio, it was time to see if the horse could walk steadily over a trail, and left for the Soddy. It was time to move up Trio’s rehabilitation. During the familiar ride Kathleen plotted out how she would work the horse in the ring, pushing his muscles to the brink but not over.
An hour later, she was surprised to see Nathaniel’s truck parked beneath one of the live oaks outside. Tethering Trio to the railing, she went inside the house and found her father reinforcing part of the wall with more mud. The cracks in the ceiling were patched and a pile of dust and dirt were ready to be swept outside. What was going on?
“Hi, Dad,” she said and regretted her quiet approach when he jumped. He spared her a glance but then went back to patching the walls. “What are you doing?”
“Figured I’d get a head start on maintenance this year,” he said finally. “This old Soddy could use some more attention from time to time.”
“No, I didn’t mean…Why aren’t you in…” Kathleen wasn’t sure how to proceed. Remembering what Jackson told her about Nathaniel’s chess games she wondered how long he had been lying about his drinking. At least lying by omission. Why couldn’t she just be happy that he wasn’t drinking now?
Nathaniel kept plastering the wall with more mud until Kathleen was certain she had been dismissed. What did he want from her?
“You want to know why I’m not drunk at the bar already?” He finally turned, put the tools down, and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Jackson made me realize that I wasn’t doing anyone any favors by hiding out down there all day. So I figured I’d find some work to do around here. Maybe help out a little more.” He took a long drink from his canteen. Her fingers itched to smell it but that would only set them at odds and she didn’t want to fight with him. Didn’t want to push him over the edge, assuming he wasn’t over already.
“Why?” The simple word covered a hundred different questions for Kathleen and Nathaniel seemed to understand that.
“I’ve been playing chess with some of the guys everyday for years. We’d have a few beers. Maybe flirt with a pretty girl. Most times I’d get drunk. But after Monica’s mother left…the beer didn’t taste so good, so I started drinking tea instead.”
Kathleen digested this. He’d been drunk from the time Kathleen could remember, but now Nathaniel said for the past three years he’d been sober? Pretending to still be in that dark place? It didn’t make sense.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Or Grandfather? We’ve been so worried about you.”
He finished cleaning up the plaster and mud before saying quietly, “I didn’t know how long it would last.”
“Dad,” she whispered.
“I’ve been sober in the last twenty years more times than I could count. Mostly the sober lasted a few hours. You probably don’t remember much of that. Every time something would happen and I’d start drinking again.” He sighed and put the rest of the supplies into a small box. He hefted it in his arms. “I thought maybe if no one knew there wouldn’t be so much pressure. And then your Jackson showed up at Duley’s and I realized I’d made things so much worse. I’m sorry, Kath. I never meant to hurt you and if my drinking made you marry Jackson or made him leave, I’ll fix it.”
Kathleen threw her arms around her father, box of dirty supplies and all, and hugged him. For the first time since she was eight it felt as if she had her father back and she started to cry. He had disappeared shortly after her mother’s death and with every girlfriend or wife or drink he’d chosen to help him forget he had moved farther away from her.
He could be right. This latest stint at sobriety would likely be short-lived. But while he was sober she would enjoy their time together and forget about anything else.
“You didn’t have to hide your sobriety. Grandfather and I would have done anything to help you — ”
He squeezed her with his free arm. “That’s the point, sweetheart, no one could help me but me. And I think this time it will be different. I’ll fix this thing with Jackson, too, if you’ll let me.”
“There’s nothing for you to fix,” she said, stepping back. “The marriage was never for real and now he’s gone back to his real life and I’m getting on with mine. It was all just a stupid, meaningless plan that never had to happen at all.”
“Are you sure about that?” He asked, wiping a tear from her cheek.
Kathleen nodded but the tears kept coming.
• • •
Jackson smacked the side of the photo enlarger, knowing that it wouldn’t help. The picture was perfect. A perfect model wearing the perfect bikini with a perfect ocean in the background. He had processed out the circles under her eyes and the slight bulge of fat at her hips. All the public would see was the perfect body. Perfect face.
It was his vision that was flawed because every face in every picture he took during the sports magazine suit became Kathleen. Kathleen standing on a dock. Kathleen sitting on the beach. Kathleen cavorting in the water.
All he could think about was Kathleen. It had been more than a week and still all he could think about was her.
He clipped the photo to the line and went to the next image.
Same perfect model, different suit. Kathleen’s face superimposed on the model’s features.
It was time to take a break.
He sat at the desk, waited for his computer to boot up, and opened the file of digital images from San Antonio. Skipped over the pictures from the city and focused instead on pictures of the ranch.
Kathleen working Jester. In the pool with Trio. Watching the horses in the field, her back to him. Smiling about something. What did she see that he didn’t? And why did he keep opening these stupid files when he had real work to do?
He ignored the phone when it rang and only half-listened to his assistant leave a frantic message about the magazine deadline and some problem with a shoot scheduled in Maine the next week. He didn’t care. The editor would have the images the next day and all of this last minute drama with the Maine shoot would be forgotten by Monday when new problems arose.
He poured a cup of coffee and sat at the window watching the crowded streets below while he sipped. His favorite seat. His favorite pastime, at least it had been before Texas. Now he didn’t see the potential pictures in the crowd. He saw just the harried crowd hurrying to appointments that didn’t matter.
His life. Exactly the way he wanted it.
Liar.
He picked up the envelope on his coffee table. Re-read the note from his investigator. Picked up another lead, this time in Corpus Christi. How to proceed?
How to proceed, indeed.
Jackson hadn’t lied about one thing the day he left Kathleen and Texas behind: he was no longer under the illusion that finding Maria would answer the questions burning in his gut. No explanation would satisfy the fact that she left a seven year old child, in the dark and with very little food, alone. San Antonio showed him that he wasn’t that small, scared kid any longer.
He still cared that Maria abandoned him that way but he no longer wondered about her reasons incessantly. He no longer needed the half-hearted explanation that he knew she would give. He’d traded one obsession for another. Obsession over his childhood for obsession over what his life might have been like if he’d stayed.
If he’d given their fake marriage the chance to become real.
Maybe he didn’t have the perfect family background. That didn’t preclude him from creating a family with Kathleen on the ranch. He deserved a life, damn it, a life with more in it than pretty models, overly dramatic fashion designers, and harried magazine editors.
In the hot New York studio Jackson wasn’t fooling himself. He did have feelings for Kathleen. Feelings that scared him. Feelings that made him feel as if he could fly.
Feelings that weren’t so different from the connection he told her he most definitely did
not want. Not in this lifetime.
So it was just as well that he was working here rather than wandering around Texas searching for a reason to be there. Watching her with the horses, with the other trainer. With her family.
Mail dropped through the slot in his door and he slowly got to his feet to see what credit card company wanted him as their next customer today. A small envelope caught his attention, postmarked Lockhardt, Texas.
Inside was a picture of him, holding Kathleen on the Malecon. Looking at her as if she were the only person on earth who mattered. Where had this come from? He turned the print over and saw Mitchum’s scrawl.
You may not have planned to fall in love in Puerto Vallarta. That doesn’t mean you didn’t.
So the old man had Kathleen followed in Mexico. Somehow Jackson wasn’t surprised. Mitchum loved Kathleen and was counting on her to keep the ranch growing until the next generation. He was just annoyed that he hadn’t noticed the man following them.
And maybe embarrassed, too, when he thought of all the things he and Kathleen had done in bed. And out of it. Was Mitchum’s investigator on duty all day, every day?
Jackson looked at the picture again and decided not to hold a grudge against Mitchum.On a small slip of paper inside the envelope was a date, time, and the words “black tie optional.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jackson swerved around a slow-moving sedan driving in the far left lane and swore. A two-hour delay in Kansas City pushed him to the limit. His flight arrived in San Antonio a few minutes before six and he hadn’t had time to change into his tux before hitting the rental car stand. Now he was nearly to the Lockhardt turn but traffic had slowed him even more.
He wouldn’t make it to the ranch until Kathleen’s party was well underway. Wouldn’t have the chance to talk to her about the past.
The future.
Forget his plans of talking with Kathleen before the guests arrived, at this rate he might miss the entire party. She would never forgive that. He would never forgive that. Jackson pressed his foot harder against the gas pedal and the compact car shot forward.
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