Casey's Courage

by Neva Brown

  “Lazarus, did you know I have a doctorate in psychology and have been counseling other people for weeks, but I’m only now realizing that I’m going through the early stages of grief. I really don’t have time for this. A grown woman has to be able to put away a childish dream and get on with her life. I’ve been told over and over again it was an impossible dream and that Tres was out of my reach.”

  The cat, now sleek and well fed, followed her into the kitchen and watched as she opened the refrigerator.

  “You seem to have landed on your feet after a miserable experience, so what advice can you offer me?”

  The cat didn’t answer but longingly eyed the marinated chicken Casey took out of the refrigerator.

  On auto-pilot, she prepared her meal and ate, determined to keep a threatening downward spiral into despair at bay. But her gut-wrenching need for Tres made her body ache as her heart cried.

  Chapter 19

  Returning from seeing Mattie Lou and her companion safely on the plane to Scotland, Tres buried himself in work during the day and prowled the silent Mansion at night trying to find peace. None came. Long ago he’d learned drink didn’t solve anything, but he tried drowning his sorrows anyway.

  His anger with Casey seeped away, leaving a raw, emotional wound open. Telling himself time would heal the hurt, he worked harder and slept little. One night he found himself standing in the shower leaning against the wall letting the hot jets of water pelt his naked body. He thought of struggling in the driving rain with Casey as they made their way out of Dark Canyon that hellish night. His whole body throbbed and his head threatened to explode. He needed Casey.

  When the stinging jets of water began to cool, he dried off, went to his desk in the bedroom and began writing.

  Dear Casey,

  I can’t remember the last time I wrote a personal letter. In fact, I can’t remember ever wanting to share my inner thoughts with someone, but tonight I need you to talk to. Since I don’t know where you are, I’ll write and probably never mail it. I’m sleeping very little nowadays and when I do, you drift in and out of my dreams, making me anxious and worried. Your face is never really clear but in the haze it seems to be sad and often streaked with tears. I hope this is just in my dreams and not the way you feel.

  Rosalinda has, not too subtly, informed me about how I have been blind to what was going on while Jordan and Leila were here. Hardened by years of hearing women make barbed remarks about other women, I guess I became desensitized. I just considered Leila’s harangue something that one woman says about a beautiful woman she is jealous of. Rosalinda assured me in no uncertain terms you did not see it that way, but took it as an indictment of immorality and greed; neither of which is a part of you, I know.

  I apologize. You just need to come home so we can get things straight. You were greatly missed on Thanksgiving. Everyone seemed to have a good time, but you were often in the conversations. I had never thought about what an intrinsic part of the Running S you are. Everyone seems to have lived vicariously through you as you made the Running S a prestigious name in the horse world. You need to come home so they know you are okay.

  Mattie Lou has gone to Scotland to see relatives for a few months. Janelle Rayburn’s niece traveled with her and saw her safely to her folks near Edinburgh. I hadn’t realized that she was struggling with the thought of having to have Christmas here without J.D., another of my oversights. She was excited about going to see cousins that she knows only through correspondence. Even though, Mattie Lou is gone, the Mansion is arrayed in Christmas decorations. Rosalinda informed me everything is on schedule for the Christmas party that “everyone” expects to happen at Spencer Mansion each year. You need to be here to help with the entertaining. I don’t even know most of the people to whom invitations were sent.

  Tres rambled on, writing about Jake, Todd, and Heather, the new events in Dark Canyon and all the activities on the ranch. In the early morning hours, he fell across his bed and slept soundly until almost noon. He put the letter in a desk drawer and went to work.

  He felt obligated to attend holiday gatherings he’d been invited to, which J.D. and Mattie Lou had graced with their presence over the years.

  Valerie Lawson took advantage of each occasion. Dressed splendidly, she made no secret of her determination to be considered Tres’ partner since each of them came dateless. Taking the way of least resistance, he found his name linked with hers far too often.

  By the weekend-before-Christmas party at Spencer Mansion, he knew Valerie had assumed too much. Her proprietary attitude irritated him. When she showed up early with full intentions of taking over the hostess position at Spenser Mansion, he knew they were on a collision course.

  Rosalinda called from the kitchen phone to his office. “Valerie just sailed in through the back door giving orders.” In a mimicry voice, Rosalinda continued, sounding so much like Valerie Tres had to grin. “She said, ‘Good morning, all. Since Mattie Lou is out of the country, I knew Tres would need help, so I came early to see that everything runs just like it would if Mattie Lou were here.’ She told Kari to get her a cup of coffee. Have someone take my luggage up to the suite adjoining Tres’ and put my car away.”

  Tres figured smoke from Rosalinda’s rising ire would be coming through his phone soon if she continued, so he stopped her with, “Would you tell Valerie I would like to see her in my office right away? And hold off on following her instructions.” He hated all of this. If Casey were here, none of this unpleasantness would have to be dealt with. He swore at himself for once again wanting Casey for his own use and convenience.

  The stately Valerie, dressed in holly red slacks and sweater, flounced into his office in a towering rage only thinly veiled. “Tres, darling, I came to help. But I found reluctance from the servants. Mattie Lou would be appalled at their impudence. You need to speak to them.”

  “Good morning, Valerie,” Tres said coolly. “The people you’re talking about are the ones who make my life comfortable. What you construed as impudent is just their doing what I asked of them.”

  Disconcerted by the glacial tone in his voice, Valerie reined in her temper as she sank down onto the soft leather couch. In a more conciliatory tone, she said, “They really were rude. Not complying with any of my wishes.”

  Tres went to the sideboard, poured coffee into a monogrammed china cup, and handed it to her. “What were your wishes?”

  “I just asked them to take my luggage up to the suite next to yours and to put my car in the garage, not anything unusual.”

  Rather than sit on the couch in companionable fashion, he returned to his desk chair. “Friends from Australia are occupying the suite you mentioned. That particular suite has a small private room suitable for their maid, who travels with them. Mattie Lou indicated in her plans that you were happy with the suite you used last year so your luggage can be taken there. Ignacio will see that your car is safe in the guest parking area where it can be reached quickly if you want it.”

  From the expression on her face, Valerie did not miss his implication. “It is a lovely suite. I just thought by being near you I could be of help since Mattie Lou is away. The Mansion is so huge and so many people will be here for an extended time, I thought it would be helpful to you for me to be hostess and relieve you of some tiresome duties. Since people are used to seeing us together, it would be no problem.”

  “That is thoughtful of you, but the hostess chair will be empty this year, cordoned off with velvet rope in honor of Mattie Lou.”

  The phone rang. With a polite “Excuse me,” Tres answered it. After a short pause, he said, “Come by the office on your way. There’s someone here you will enjoy seeing.” Valerie watched Tres as he listened, then said, “We’ll see you in a little.”

  Turning his attention back to Valerie, he said, “That was Brad. He and the man he is doing therapy with now are staying in J.D. and Casey’s old apartment for the weekend. They’ll be here shortly.”

  Before Valerie
could regroup her thoughts, Tres continued where they had left off. “To ease your mind, the caterers will be here soon to oversee all food events for the duration of the party, extra help is already arriving to take care of housekeeping needs, and the regular people who take care of the Mansion will be available to supervise when supervision is needed. You just need to enjoy yourself.”

  “As your close friend, it seems like I should be more involved,” she said.

  “We’ll be surrounded by friends by noon today, so forget about the mundane things and enjoy the party. ‘Tis the season, you know,” he said as Brad and his patient, Ryan, entered.

  Obviously annoyed, Valerie hugged Brad and kissed him on the cheek then turned to the remarkably handsome Ryan. He no longer looked like a cripple, but walked with ease, sporting tailored slacks and matching silk shirt, Italian leather shoes with a matching belt. With all the skill of a practiced womanizer, he turned all his attention to Valerie.

  Tres watched the two predators spar verbally and all but circle one another, seeking the other’s vulnerable spots.

  “Tres has just turned down my offer,” Valerie said, “so why don’t I show you the Mansion while he and Brad catch up on what’s happened to their pet, Casey, who seems to have flown the coop.” She led the willing Ryan away.

  Tres knew he would still have to deal with her, but a reprieve for now felt good.

  “I see Valerie is still in good form,” Brad said dryly. “Ryan can give her a run for her money. He’s been out of circulation for a long time. Speaking of Casey, I don’t hear from her very often. How is she doing?”

  “According to Clyde Jones at the bank in San Angelo, she’s fine. I haven’t talked with her since she left here in November.” Tres knew his neutral tone and controlled facial features said volumes more than his words did.

  Brad continued, giving no indication that anything was amiss. “It surprised me when my email to her was answered through Clyde’s office. She ignores my questions about where she is, but she seems to be doing well. She did tell me her reading speed and comprehension is back to normal.” He chuckled. “Said she did hours of practicing with romance and thriller novels and got a whole new education in human relationships.”

  Tres didn’t respond to Brad’s comment but gazed out the window toward the swimming pool. “I hope she has what she needs to keep physically fit.”

  Brad ambled over to the window by Tres. “She mentioned state-of-the-art exercise machines and said she missed swimming but that it was too cold for swimming right now anyway. From her remarks, I gathered she is in the mountains where she’s getting an inordinate amount of snow this winter.”

  “She has no business being off by herself. I should have sent a private investigator to find her before the weather got bad.”

  “If it’s a fair question, what happened?” Brad asked.

  “I’m not sure. But in retrospect, I know I failed her at a time when she needed me. I’ve never put much stock in social manipulation and didn’t see what was happening right under my nose. Rosalinda explained to me, in not too complimentary terms, that Jake and Pauline had drummed into her not to socialize with me. Then I pressured her to move into the suite next to me when Jordan and his new wife visited. My plan to head off any matchmaking they had in mind backfired. The new wife made some demeaning remarks about Casey and Casey overheard them. I didn’t correct the misconception, just offered to fly them back to Dallas to continue their trip. When I got back to the ranch, Casey was gone. Lock, stock, and barrel.”

  Both men fell silent. They watched a plane bank to land on the ranch airstrip, while Tres tried to tuck away his anguish over Casey. He needed to be host for the duration of the party.

  Brad cleared his throat. “You know she’s been in love with you for years.”

  Tres frowned at Brad. “That’s hard to believe when she just walked away.”

  “Maybe, but it’s true. I could tell you things she told me, but just know it’s true.”

  “I don’t seem to understand love. Since she left, nothing seems worthwhile. I’ve always enjoyed women, but when it was time to call it quits, regardless of whose idea it was, I never rehashed the relationship, but moved on. But with Casey it’s like she’s a ghost just out of reach, but one who haunts every place I go and lingers in my subconscious.”

  “Sounds like the two of you have some talking to do,” Brad said.

  Leaving the office, they heard muted sounds of laughter and indistinguishable conversations as Tres grumbled, “How am I going to talk to her when I don’t know where she is?”

  Valerie’s shrill voice caught his attention as they entered the living room. He may have told her he didn’t need a hostess, but she had not been deterred in regard to leaving that impression with the guests.

  Chapter 20

  In the snow-clad mountains of New Mexico, Casey worked out every morning with the equipment on the glassed-in back porch. Physical activity helped quiet the despair and grief that swamped her, especially as she awoke with her defenses down.

  Tres moved through her dreams, ever the lover just out of reach. He became mixed with some of the steamy sex scenes she’d read in the books she’d found in her landlord’s library. Books he had written under a pseudonym. Physical exertion, a familiar feeling, made her focus on the present, clearing her mind of everything else. She always dreaded preparing for and going to her counseling sessions, but came away feeling better for having gone. Maybe it was a case of misery loves company. Sometimes she felt like she helped, and other days she felt as if she just took up their time. But she persevered.

  Day-by-day she fought her battle. After her workout and a hot shower, she attacked the kitchen, determined to learn how to cook and clean. A wide array of cookbooks became required reading as she doggedly worked to keep her mind busy. Adjusting recipes to serve only one person became a challenge. Her ability to follow directions to the letter brought about excellent results. The daunting part was the mess that had to be cleaned up each time. Appreciation for the people who had done this for her all these years grew.

  Bringing wood from the storage shed and using the blower to clear the snow from the walkways and driveway were daily tasks not to be ignored. Lazarus happily accompanied her about the kitchen as she cooked and cleaned, but chose to watch through the window when she went outside to do chores.

  Daily Casey said to him, “We’re a fine pair. Avoiding the things that have hurt us. You suppose we’re just two cowards, or can we be more charitable and call ourselves survivors?”

  Upstairs, while she worked with the hated reading machine in the afternoon, he stretched out in the sunlight that streamed across the table. He curled up beside her when she settled for the night in front of the fireplace to read. As she read him passages from a romance or thriller that struck her fancy, he would flick an ear from time to time.

  Never having read just for enjoyment, Casey found herself intrigued with the characters in the novels. Laughing and crying with them in their make-believe world, a world she escaped into rather than being forced to endure the bleakness of her real world.

  Sometime in late January, after an intense few sessions with three young women who had recently divorced, the excuses for her self-imposed exile no longer had any meaning. Her need for Tres haunted her. She struggled with questions that bedeviled her. What did you run from? What did you run to? What are you saving yourself for? What’s more important to you than Tres? Your public image? Your so-called good name? Your loveless life?

  She faced the brutal truth. While trying to protect herself, she was, in fact, killing herself by degrees as she absented herself from the man who meant more than breath and life to her. It was time to do something.

  But unprecedented snowfall and cold temperatures kept her marooned for days and days, where only an emergency vehicle could have gotten her off that mountain. Telling herself this was a sign that she needed this time to evaluate her life and make plans, she tried, but her heart cried
out for Tres. She’d seen his picture with Valerie in the Cielo Alto newspapers that Clyde sent. They were a striking couple in their party finery. Valerie, always smiling, looked vibrant in jewel-colored original gowns. Tres’ chiseled, never-smiling features and blonde hair set off by a stark white shirt and black suit made Casey smooth her fingers over the paper as she longed to touch him. That Cinderella-fairy-tale syndrome she suffered from just wouldn’t die.

  One February morning as she used the blower to clean the last of the snow from the driveway, she shielded her eyes from the blinding, bright sun on the new blanket of snow and the rainbow crystals in the frigid air. She felt a bubbling of energy and a lightness of spirit that she thought had deserted her forever. Turning off the blower, she made her way to the mailbox at the end of the driveway and removed a large manila envelope with Clyde Jones’ return address on it.

  Smiling, she recalled how the good banker had prompted her to do Christmas presents for her mother and dad and Maria and to send Christmas cards to people he referred to as friends and acquaintances. His gentle prodding had kept her doing the proper things. When she’d first arrived at her mountain retreat, she’d put off opening his envelopes for days. Now she was eager to get back into the warm house to see what he had sent.

  As she pushed the blower into the garage, she heard the steady grumble of a vehicle making its way up the icy road. The world was waking up from its long, snow-blanketed sleep. A black Escalade equipped with snow chains came into sight and turned into her driveway.

  The tinted windows obscured the identity of the driver, but Casey knew who it was before Tres stepped out of the SUV and shrugged his broad shoulders into a sheepskin jacket. “Looks like you had fresh snow last night.”