First and Again

by Jana Richards

  “It’s not convenient for me to call her this evening.”

  “Well, it’s not convenient for me to get her right now.”

  Ben gave a derisive laugh. “Please, Bridget. It’s not like you could possibly have anything important to do in Podunk, North Dakota. You’re working in your mother’s bar, for God’s sake.”

  She shook with anger, all reason flying out the window. “Perhaps there’s another reason your phone call is inconvenient for me right now. How do you know I don’t have someone in my bed waiting for me? How do you know I’m not having the best sex of my life?”

  He laughed once more. “We both know that’s unlikely. Tell Rebecca I’ll call her back when I can.”

  The line went dead. She carefully replaced the receiver in its cradle. The bastard. He didn’t even give her the satisfaction of hanging up on him.

  “What on earth was that all about?”

  For the first time she noticed her mother standing behind her. Her face flamed with fresh humiliation.

  “That was Ben. He phoned to talk to Rebecca.” She couldn’t look at Mavis.

  She touched her shoulder. “You’re shaking. What did he say to you?”

  “Just the same old, same old.” She turned and gave her mother a smile she knew didn’t reach her eyes. “I think I’m going to get dressed and go for a nice long walk. I need to clear my head.”

  “Bridget, honey, if you need to talk, I’m right here.”

  Her mother was holding out an olive branch, or perhaps a lifeline, but she couldn’t make herself take it. She couldn’t bear to talk about the last few humiliating months of her marriage.

  “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate your concern, but I just need to be alone for a while.”

  She hurried from the living room and dressed quickly in her room. Mavis was still in the living room when she emerged from the bedroom.

  “Bridget, are you sure you don’t want something to eat first? I can make some coffee and we can just sit. We don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to.”

  She noted the lines of worry around Mavis’s mouth and the anxious expression in her eyes. She reached for one of her mother’s hands and squeezed it.

  “I’m sorry, Mom, I’m not really hungry. I’ve got some stuff I’ve got to think through for myself. Maybe later I’ll be able to talk to you, but right now I need to walk.”

  Mavis expelled a long breath and then nodded. “Make sure you dress warmly. It’s cold out there.”

  Bridget pulled her into a quick hug and Mavis held her tightly. “I will, Mom. Don’t worry.”

  Once outside she was glad for the warm parka and boots her mother had insisted she wear. Though there wasn’t snow yet, the air was crisp and cold, and frost coated the grass along the side of the road. Bridget walked, at first not really sure where she was going. Eventually she realized she was on the road to Jack’s ranch, which was less than two miles from town. She didn’t analyze too closely her reasons, subconscious or otherwise, for seeking him out.

  As she walked into the yard, she saw Jack emerge from the barn with Dallas Green, his hired hand. Dallas waved at Jack and jumped into his truck, driving past her on his way out of the yard.

  Jack lifted his hand to wave at her and headed in her direction.

  “Where’s your car?” he asked.

  “I walked.”

  “You walked?” he said with a smile. “What’s going on? It’s a little early in the morning for one of your walks, isn’t it?”

  “Not when I get a phone call from my ex it isn’t.”

  All traces of amusement left his face. “What did he say to you?”

  “Just stuff.” She averted her gaze. She couldn’t talk to Jack any more than she could her mother.

  “Hey, come here.” He took her arm and pulled her close. She melted into the warmth of his body, wrapping her arms loosely around his waist.

  “Your ex is a jerk.”

  She looked up into his face, amused by the vehemence in his voice. “How do you know that? You’ve never even met him.”

  “I don’t have to meet him. Any man who makes you this unhappy has to be a jerk.”

  She laid her cheek against his chest. “I can’t argue with you there.”

  Jack stroked her back with his gloved hand, lending comfort. She relaxed against him.

  “Why don’t we go in the house?” he said. “I’ll fix you and the girls some breakfast. I’m really great at toaster waffles.”

  “I’m not really hungry.” She tightened her hold when he started to move away, her face still burrowed in his chest. “Jack, years ago, when you and I were together, was I attractive to you? Did you think I was, you know, sexy? Did you like kissing me—and stuff?” Her face burned with embarrassment. She couldn’t believe she was asking him this, but she had to know.

  He went very still and she pulled away, keeping her gaze carefully averted. “You don’t have to answer that. It was a stupid question.”

  He tipped her chin so she was forced to look into his face. She was shocked by his fierce expression. “Bridget, you were the most beautiful, sexy woman I’d ever seen. You still are. I loved kissing you, and holding you, touching you. I loved the way you smelled and the way you felt in my arms. I wanted you then, and you know I want you now.”

  She stared at him, stunned. Was he trying to make her feel better or did he really feel that way?

  He read her mind. “If you ask me if I really mean it, I’m going to shake you till your teeth rattle.” He cupped her face with his hand. “I don’t know what your ex has said to you. Whatever he’s said, don’t believe it. You are a beautiful, vibrant, incredibly sexy woman, and if you change your mind and take me up on my offer, I would gladly take you to my bed. No, I would enthusiastically take you to my bed. I would howl at the moon in absolute bliss if you slept with me.”

  A sound that was part laugh and part sob escaped. She brushed away the tear that rolled down her cheek.

  “I guess you really do mean it,” she said with a shaky smile. “Thank you.”

  “For what? Telling you the truth?”

  For making me feel like someone would want me again. “For your lovely speech.”

  “It’s no speech, Bridget. It’s how I feel.”

  “I know. That’s why it’s so lovely.”

  They stared at each other for several long moments. She studied the contours of his face, the strong chin, the chiseled cheekbones, the laugh lines around the eyes. She’d known this man since they were kids, and though they’d been apart for twenty years, she knew Jack wouldn’t lie to her. A small glimmer of hope shone in her heart.

  “How about we go in the house and I whip up a batch of pancakes? I suddenly feel very hungry.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders as they headed to the house. “Thank God. I hate toaster waffles.”

  * * *

  That evening Bridget sat on her bed, absently brushing her hair. All day long she’d thought about what Jack had told her, that she was beautiful and sexy, that he wanted to make love with her. It still amazed her. She knew he meant what he said. She just couldn’t believe he felt that way.

  She rose from the bed and walked over to the full-length mirror which was mounted on the outside of her closet door. Slowly she removed all her clothes until she stood naked in front of the mirror. She closed her eyes, unable to look.

  With an effort she forced herself to open them. What did others see when they looked at her? What did Jack see?

  She stared at her face in the mirror. Celia had been right about her skin. It was free of blemishes and so far she’d kept the wrinkles at bay. She had more freckles than she’d like. Ben always told her they were unattractive, so while she was married to him she wore makeup to cover them up. When they divorced she didn’t have the energy or the money to spend on makeup. It was all she could manage to keep her face clean and moisturized.

  But now when she looked into her face and saw the freckles that dotted her nose and chee
kbones, she wondered why she’d spent so much time and energy covering them up. They weren’t hideously deforming as she’d come to believe, they were just freckles. They were part of who she was.

  She ran a hand over the swell of one small breast, and then the other. Even as a teenager she’d been self-conscious about her lack of endowment, especially when she compared herself to girls like Tina, who were at least a couple of cup sizes bigger than she was. She ran a finger around the dusky-colored nipple. She smiled ruefully. At least her breasts were still pert. She’d never have to worry about them sagging to her navel.

  She lowered her hand over her stomach, to her lower abdomen that bore the scar from the Caesarian section she’d had when Rebecca was born. Ben had always found it ugly, but when she looked at it objectively, it was merely a thin, raised white line. She ran her finger over the scar, feeling its edges. How could she be upset about a small scar she’d received as a result of the birth of her daughter?

  She had to admit her hip bones protruded. Ben called her bony, saying he could cut himself on her sharp bones. She’d lost weight after the business went under, and more after the divorce, unable to eat at times, and not having a lot of food in the house at other times. It was only in the last few months, since she’d been back in Paradise, that she’d been able to put on a few pounds. Maybe it was all the apple pie.

  She had long legs, decent shape, and slender arms and fingers. Her neck was long and graceful, and her butt, while not voluptuous, at least didn’t have a lot of cellulite.

  All in all, she was okay.

  The realization came as something of a shock. For a long time she’d considered herself unattractive, ugly even, so to see that she was neither hideous nor deformed came as a revelation.

  When she heard Ben’s voice in her head, laughing at her, telling her she was only fooling herself, she ruthlessly shut him off. She’d heard his comments so often and for so long, she’d come to see them as the truth.

  No more.

  Maybe she could come to see herself, if not beautiful, as at least mildly attractive. Maybe she was worth loving.

  The thought brought her up short. Is that what she’d believed all this time? That she wasn’t worth loving? Is that why she’d stayed with Ben all those years, because she didn’t think anyone else would want her?

  How stupid she’d been. What kind of example had she set for her daughter?

  Hopefully it wasn’t too late. Maybe she could learn to love herself and treat herself with kindness. Maybe someday she’d even know happiness again.

  She smiled at her reflection. Because she deserved it.

  * * *

  The following Friday night, Bridget drove to Jack’s ranch to pick up Rebecca. She had ridden her bike there after school, but it was likely the last time, since the forecast called for snow. Bridget knew she’d have to find another way to put Rebecca and her horse together over the winter.

  She knocked on the kitchen door and entered. Jack and the girls were seated around the kitchen table. Gladys bustled around the kitchen, cleaning up the supper dishes.

  “Have you eaten?” she asked Bridget. “We’ve got plenty.”

  “Thanks, but I should probably get Rebecca home.”

  “Actually the girls were just asking if Rebecca could stay for a sleepover tonight.”

  “I guess that would be all right. If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble, Jack.”

  He smiled fondly at Rebecca. “No trouble at all. She can ride Candy in the morning and then Leslie and I will run her back into town in the afternoon.”

  She looked into her daughter’s excited eyes. They begged her to say yes. “I guess it would be okay.”

  “Do you have to work tonight?” Jack asked.

  “No, I’m off. Tina’s taking the late shift.”

  “Why don’t you stay awhile then?” He didn’t leave her any time to argue. “Gladys, can you get Bridget some stew?”

  He took her coat while Gladys got her settled at the table with a bowl of delicious-smelling stew that seemed exactly the right thing for this cold night.

  “Thanks, Gladys.”

  “You’re very welcome.” She untied her apron. “I’d better be going. My daughter and her new husband are coming from Fargo to stay with us for the weekend. They should arrive in the next hour or so.”

  “Have fun, Gladys,” Bridget said. “And don’t worry. I’ll make sure to clean up after I’m done.”

  “I’ll see you on Monday,” Jack said. “Have a good weekend.”

  With a smile and a wave Gladys hurried out the door. Her headlights flashed in the kitchen window as she drove away.

  “Daddy, can we watch the movie now?” Leslie asked. Bridget smiled at the milk mustache she sported on her upper lip.

  “As soon as you finish your milk, Sunshine.” Jack turned to Bridget. “Would you like to watch a movie with us?” He named a popular family-friendly film. “It’s playing on pay-per-view on satellite. I promised the girls we’d watch it.”

  “Gladys made us rice krispie squares for dessert. Jack said we could eat them while we watch the movie,” Rebecca said. She turned to Jack. “My mom’s favorite dessert in the world is rice krispie squares. My dad used to tease her about it.”

  Bridget swallowed a bite of stew. Ben did tease her about her love for such a lowbrow treat. He often ridiculed the things she liked.

  “We have butterscotch ripple ice cream too,” Jack added, his eyes twinkling.

  He wanted her to stay. Even after she’d flatly turned him down the previous weekend, he wanted her to stay.

  She found she wanted to stay too. Very much.

  “You had me at rice krispie squares.” She swallowed her last mouthful of stew. “If we all pitch in we can have the kitchen cleaned up in a jiffy.”

  A short time later, they gathered in the family room to watch the movie. They sat on the large leather sofa in front of the TV, the two girls sitting between them with Leslie securely tucked under Jack’s arm. It was a very domestic image. Almost as if they were a family.

  They laughed at the movie and munched on rice krispie squares. By the time the movie was over Leslie was yawning.

  “Time for bed, Sunshine,” Jack said. “Go change into your pj’s and I’ll come tuck you in.”

  “Can Bridget tuck me in too?” she asked.

  “Sure. I’ll come say good night,” she said. She was touched that Leslie wanted her to be part of her nightly ritual.

  “I don’t have to go to bed now too, do I, Jack?” Rebecca looked ready to argue.

  He checked his watch. “It’s only nine. Leslie needs her sleep but you can stay up for a while. Why don’t you go see if Leslie can find something of hers you can sleep in tonight?”

  “Sure. Let’s go, Leslie.” As they climbed the stairs Bridget heard them playfully arguing over which bunk they would sleep in tonight.

  “Rebecca’s wonderful with Leslie,” Jack said as he watched them leave. “She’s a good kid.”

  “She is a good kid. Most of the time. She has her moments, though. There’s been a few times I’ve been ready to pull out my hair.”

  “I guess I’ve been so focused on Leslie’s problems all these years that I’ve forgotten other parents have struggles too,” he said.

  “It can’t have been easy for you raising Leslie alone. Celia told me she’s had a couple of heart surgeries. Is she okay now?”

  He leaned forward in his chair, his head bowed and his elbows resting on his knees.

  “The doctors don’t think she’ll need any further surgery, but I still worry about it. I feel like I have to be vigilant all the time, to watch for any little sign that she’s ill, or overtired or just doing too much.”

  That explained his tendency to overprotect Leslie. Worry lines marred his brow, and she could see the toll the constant stress took on him, especially since he’d been looking after Leslie by himself since her birth. She had the sudden desire to take him in her arms and ease his burde
n, to tell him everything was going to be all right. She took his hand and squeezed, trying to communicate her support. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, as if surprised by the gesture. Slowly, he began to smile, a sad smile filled with a multitude of emotions—fear, regret, joy, gratitude. He brought her hand to his lips for a kiss, his eyes never leaving her face.

  Tears clogged her throat and for a moment she couldn’t speak. In that one moment of silence they had communicated more to each other than any words could express.

  The sound of footsteps bounding down the stairs broke the spell. She reluctantly let go of his hand. A moment later Rebecca jumped off the last stair and bounced into the family room.

  “Leslie’s ready for you guys to say good night,” she said. She flopped down on the sofa. “Jack, can I watch music videos?”

  He got to his feet. “Your mom and I want to watch the news. If you want to watch videos you can use the TV in my office.”

  “Okay.” She rose and padded barefoot toward his office, a throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her borrowed pajama bottoms from Leslie came almost to her knee. Bridget smiled at the image. Her little girl was growing up, but for now she was still her little girl.

  Jack extended his hand. “Come upstairs with me and say good night to Leslie.”

  He held her hand all the way up the stairs, only dropping it when they reached Leslie’s room. She grinned at them from the top bunk.

  “What are you doing up there?” Jack said.

  “Becky said it was okay. She doesn’t mind sleeping on the bottom.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I never get to sleep on the top.”

  “That’s because you might fall out and hurt yourself,” he said. “Come down here.”

  “No! I don’t wanna.” Her defiance surprised Bridget. She’d never heard her talk back to her dad.

  “Enough, Leslie. Come down to the bottom bunk.”

  She started to cry. “I wanna sleep here.”

  Bridget knew that Jack’s stubbornness was born from love and fear. Before they had a full blown tantrum on their hands, from either father or daughter, she decided to step in. She took hold of one of the rails of the bunk bed and shook it.