“It was fine,” I say, blowing out a deep breath. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, and I’m choosing not to respond.”
Two can play that game. “Did you need something?”
“Just checking on you and Finn. Your first night alone in the house. I wanted to make sure everything is okay,” he says.
“We are fine.”
“Alarm on?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, even though I can’t remember doing it.
“You sure?”
I glance toward the panel on the wall. Sure enough, he’s right. I forgot to set it. Quickly, I hit mute on my phone so he won’t hear me activate it. “Yep.”
“Good.”
“I can’t keep this stuff,” I whisper.
“Thought you’d be used to getting gifts from men, given your previous occupation.”
A tear rolls down my cheek, and I wipe it away. “Leaving all that behind, remember?”
I hear him exhale into the phone. “I need you to have a reliable phone, not that flip thing you use.”
“I’ll keep the phone, but I need the other stuff to go back. I can use the computer here.”
“If that’s what you need,” he whispers. “Good night, Paige.”
He doesn’t wait for me to respond before hanging up. My new boss completely confusing. One minute, he’s sweet, and the next minute, he doesn’t hesitate to throw my past in my face. I wonder if he’ll ever look at me and not see the woman he met on his father’s arm.
CHAPTER SIX
PAIGE
I toss and turn all night long. The quiet of the country should settle me, but it doesn’t. When you’ve lived on the edge for so long, it’s hard to trust the stillness. Most people relish doing nothing at the end of the day and look forward to the peaceful slumber. I think that’s why everyone advocates meditation these days. They enjoy the solitude. It settles them.
For me, it’s the opposite. Quiet is waiting for the other shoe to drop. The stillness of the night is waiting to be broken by the sounds of gunshots or the creak of my bedroom door because one of my mom’s tricks thinks I’m part of the bargain. Quiet is what you hear right before someone smacks you to the ground, and everything moves in slow motion. There is no safety in the night, no protection in the stillness. At least when it’s loud, you expect what’s coming and can be ready. It’s when you’re hit unexpectedly that it hurts the most. That’s what the quiet is for me—unexpected. I’d rather hear the asshole’s footsteps as he approaches my bedroom door, so I can grab the knife I keep under my pillow.
At least out here, there’s a lot of room to pace, so I don’t have to worry about waking up Finn, who easily sleeps through the night. Guess the quiet agrees with him.
*
Exhausted, I begin tackling the list that Catrine left for me, having to stop frequently to play with Finn or give him a bottle. I move his playpen into each new room I clean. It’s a bit of a pain taking it up and down, but I’m not about to complain. Catrine texted that she’ll be later than she thought, which sucks because there’s one room I don’t want to clean—Slade’s bedroom. That seems much more private than, say, vacuuming the rug.
I wait until Finn goes down for a nap, attach the monitor to the waistband of my jeans, then head to the other side of the house. Rustic double doors lead inside the only bedroom over here. The kind of doors you’d imagine leading to a secret garden, but it’s more likely a garden of sin.
My hand lands on a real glass knob like you’d see in an old house. It’s cool under my fingertips. I push open the door, and even though it’s the middle of the day, the room is dark. I reach for the light switch, and even that doesn’t fully illuminate the room. The walls are a deep gray, the wood floors just as dark, and the fact that the curtains are drawn isn’t helping matters.
Everything about this room screams that a man lives here. And not just any man but a man with something to hide. Chills run down my spine, and goose bumps cover my skin as I step across the room, anxious to pull the curtains back to fill the space with light and scare back the shadows.
The curtains are heavy and huge, stretching all the way from the floor to the ceiling, which is at least twenty feet high. It actually takes some effort to pull them open, but when I do, the entire room transforms, and the view—nothing but trees and sky—is magnificent. Why would he ever close these curtains? I could stand here for hours just staring, but I don’t. There’s work to be done.
Catrine told me if his bed is made, he doesn’t want the sheets changed. Lucky for me, it’s neatly made today. Cleaning someone’s house is a little bit like snooping. It’s like they give you permission to be nosy as long as it’s disguised as dusting. It gives you the excuse to look at pictures, pick up mementos, perhaps see a note lying around or a prescription bottle, but I don’t find any of those things. Nothing in here tells me anything about Slade Turner, not even what books he likes to read. Nothing.
Perhaps under the bed? I take my job very seriously, and that would entail sweeping under the bed. But I strike out there, too. Not even a dust bunny with a secret to tell.
“Hello, hello, hello?” Catrine’s voice chimes through the house.
“In here,” I call out.
She walks in, looking adorable in her maternity jeans and T-shirt. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”
“No worries. How are you and Chewie?”
Before she can answer, I hear Finn start to cry through the baby monitor. “Crap, I probably woke him with my yelling,” Catrine says. “Sorry. I’ll go get him.”
“You sure?”
“I need the practice,” she says, already heading out the door.
“Please grab his bottle from the fridge!” I yell out, unsure if she heard me.
When she comes back in, she’s got Finn cradled in her arms with the bottle in his mouth. “How am I doing?” she asks, doing a little twirl. “You know, I’ve never fed a baby. How is it that I’m having a baby but never actually fed, changed, or bathed one?”
“You’re a natural,” I say. “Somehow, you just figure it all out.”
“I don’t know how you do it all alone,” she says. “I’m so scared, and I have Jon.”
“It’s amazing what you can do when you don’t have a choice.”
I can see the curiosity in her eyes. She wants to know about Finn’s dad. Who is he? Is he in the picture? Why did he leave? The questions are like cartoon bubbles over her head. I always did love bursting people’s bubbles, so I say, “Only room left to clean is the master bathroom. You want to clean the toilet, or should I?”
Honestly, there is no way I’d let her bend over to scrub the tub, shower, or toilet, but it got her off topic, which is what I wanted. She holds Finn while I do the cleaning, and we just chat. It’s nice and distracts me from the fact that I’m cleaning all the places that Slade uses when he’s naked. Plus, Catrine is the type of person who, as soon as you meet, you just know that the two of you will be friends. She’s honest and funny, and we hit it off. And as with any two women, you put them in a room together, and within an hour, you’ll know everything from her menstrual cycle to her celebrity crush. Hers is Dwayne Johnson. Mine is Henry Cavill. And since she’s pregnant, her cycle is a non-issue at the moment.
That becomes our pattern over the next few days. I do a lot of work, and she does a lot of directing, which is the way it should be. I need to learn, and she needs to say goodbye to this job. Plus, she’s great with Finn, which helps me out a lot. By the time Friday afternoon rolls around, I’m feeling good about everything. The only problem is I can’t fall asleep here. Every night it’s the same. I watch the Cooking Channel, then I turn off the Cooking Channel. I toss and turn for a couple of hours, then I turn the Cooking Channel back on. I’ve tried sleeping in different rooms, and I’ve tried sleeping with the television on as background noise, but nothing works.
I’m not settled. I’ve been here almost a week, so I should be settled. The job is going well, an
d Finn is happy. Catrine and I are becoming good friends, and I’m sure that will continue even after she leaves, but I can’t relax into my new life. Too many secrets and lies from my past are waiting to sneak up and bite me in the butt, I guess.
Slade hasn’t called me again. That’s one part of the job I haven’t taken over for Catrine. He calls and texts her, but not a peep to me since he called on my new phone. I have to wonder if I insulted him when I didn’t accept the computer and tablet. They were gone the next day. I guess Catrine took care of them.
Catrine says he’s only calling her because she’s working on some event for him. Her last big project before she leaves—the opening of a golf course or something. Still, I wonder if it’s more than that.
The last order of business before the weekend is to pay the guys who help with the horses and manage the stables. The main man is an older gentleman who looks like he could’ve played the part of Robert Redford in The Horse Whisperer. And the fact that his name is Tom, just like the character in the movie, only adds to the fun. His helper is his grandson, Clay, who works here in the summer and around his school schedule during the school year. He’s about eighteen and does all the grunt work, like cleaning the stables. I think it’s just the sweetest thing seeing granddad and grandson working together. Tom oversees a couple of other guys, too, but Catrine says they don’t ever come up to the house. She really only sees them on payday or if she takes a stroll.
Catrine hands the envelopes with their checks to Tom, who’s latching a stable door. “He’s beautiful,” I say, admiring the horse’s shiny coat. His eyes look almost black, his mane thick and dark.
“You’ve got good taste,” Tom says. “Whiskey is a fine stallion.”
“Can I pet him?” I ask. “I’ve never been around horses.” He reaches his hand over the opening, and the horse comes right over. He takes my hand and places it on the horse’s neck. “Look, Finn,” I say. “Horsey.”
Finn doesn’t seem too impressed by my bravery, simply sticking his hand in his mouth. “Be a few years before we can get you up on a horse,” Tom says, taking Finn’s hand. “We had Clay up by the time he was four. Now he’s winning ribbons all over the state.”
“Granddad,” Clay mumbles, walking toward his grandfather. He glances over at me, smiling.
Tom throws his arm around him. “I’m just proud of you, kid.”
“We should get back,” Catrine says. “Have a great weekend.”
“You come by anytime you want a ride,” Tom says.
We turn, walking back through the stables. “I think somebody has a crush on you,” Catrine says.
“Tom’s more interested in the horses, I think.”
“Not him,” she says, laughing. “Clay! The poor boy was almost drooling.”
“The only one drooling was Finn. Besides, he’s what? A senior in high school?” I ask, not that it matters. I’m not interested.
“Freshman in college,” she says. “Besides, aren’t you only twenty?”
“Yeah, and with a baby,” I say, hiking Finn up on my hip.
“Clay’s cute,” she presses, bumping my shoulder lightly.
“Again, baby on board.”
She laughs. “Okay, so you like ’em older.”
I pause in my step for a second. Did Jon tell her about Slade’s father? Did Slade? But she simply continues walking and talking. I think she was just making a joke. At least I hope so.
Her phone dings, and she pulls it out. “Speaking of older men. Slade.”
Slade’s hardly older. He can’t be more than thirty. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, he’s not coming in this weekend.”
“Oh, did he say why?” I ask.
She shakes her head. In the pit of my stomach, I wonder if it’s me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PAIGE
I’ve had this whole big house to myself for two days, and it’s felt like years. Partly because it’s rained on and off the entire weekend, so we couldn’t really go outside. I’m nervous enough to drive his Mercedes in beautiful weather, so I wasn’t about to go for a joyride in a monsoon, leaving us stuck inside. And while I love Finn, he’s not exactly good conversation.
This thing is, I don’t do relaxation well. I’ve been stressed out for so long, I don’t know how to just sit and do nothing anymore. I think that’s why I can’t sleep. I’m used to worrying myself to sleep, and here, there’s not a whole lot to worry about. Sure, I can worry about stupid little things, like my hair or if a certain celebrity couple is really breaking up, but nothing compares to my worries before, like how we are eating or how I would pay for Finn’s checkup. Those are the worries that exhaust the mind, body, and heart.
Most women my age worry about guys and clothes and careers. My job is set, my clothes could use some work, and the only guy in my life is Finn, who’s presently lying on my chest as I veg out to my favorite channel. He had a big day today. He actually crawled a little. I screamed so loud, I probably scared him so much he’ll never do it again. Granted, it was just a few inches, but it’s one for his baby book. I wrote it down and took a picture of him on my new phone. We had a celebratory dinner of mashed banana, then he conked out.
I wipe my face. Today was a happy day, so I shouldn’t be crying. I should be calling my family and telling them, bragging to my friends, sharing this big news with somebody, anybody, but there’s no one. I thought to text Catrine but felt silly.
Picking up my phone, I see only one other person in my contact list.
And something tells me he couldn’t care less.
*
After another restless night, Finn and I are up with the sunrise. The rain has stopped. It’s a new day. At my old place, we never played outside. We didn’t have a park nearby, not that it would’ve been safe anyway.
It’s time to start some new habits. My plan is to go for a walk, see the horses, or maybe even explore the woods every morning before Catrine shows up and the workday begins. We’re usually up early, and Finn loves it outside. I haven’t done this enough with him.
Grabbing an apple from the refrigerator, we head out to see the horses. I open the back door, and the loudest, most aggravating sound I’ve ever heard fills the house. Finn starts screaming, and I hold his head to my chest, attempting to protect his little eardrums from exploding. Slade wasn’t kidding with this house alarm system. It could wake the dead.
Rushing to the alarm panel on the wall in the other room, I enter the code to disarm the damn thing. The blaring sound stops, and I blow out a deep breath, giving Finn a little kiss on top of his head. Shaking my head, I don’t remember arming the system last night, but perhaps the sleep deprivation is getting to me, and I just don’t remember doing it.
Settling myself and Finn, I wait for a few minutes to see if the security monitoring company calls. I think I deactivated it quick enough that they won’t call, but it’s best to stick around and make sure. The last thing I need is for the police to show up.
After a few minutes, I say to Finn, “Let’s try this again.”
With the apple in my pocket, we head to the stables. The weekend rains have left the ground wet and muddy, soaking my tennis shoes. A slow fog rolls over the land. The morning sun calls it back, seemingly disappearing with each step we take, like a curtain being pulled back. It’s quiet, calm. Even the horses aren’t making any noise. Whiskey is the first to poke his head out of his stable. His big brown eyes look like they’re happy to see me. Only Finn has ever looked at me that way in the morning. “He must smell our apple,” I say to Finn.
We step closer. I’m still a little scared, having never been around animals much. And Whiskey’s huge. You see horses from a distance or on television, and you have no idea how big a horse really is.
Slowly, I lift my hand, making sure to keep Finn angled away. There’s no one else here this morning to guide me, so I’m extra careful. Whiskey simply lowers his head and waits. I bring my hand down to pet him, and he stays completely still
as though he can sense my nerves. Even when Finn starts to wiggle and coo, Whiskey doesn’t move. It’s only when I move back that he lifts his head.
Taking the apple from my pocket, I’m unsure how to feed it to him. I stare down at it for a second, remembering what I used to do for a piece of fruit. Now I’m about to give it to this horse. Reminding myself that was my old life, I simply drop the apple to the ground in Whiskey’s stable.
“Not really supposed to do that,” a voice says behind me.
Startled, I turn, seeing Clay walking toward us with a saddle on his shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“I won’t tell,” he says, grinning. “They’re all on strict diets, especially this guy. He’s being bred soon.” I give him another nod before starting to head out. His eyes stay on me as I walk toward him. When we pass, he says, “Paige, right?”
“And Finn,” I say, lifting him up slightly. This guy is young. Granted, he’s probably only a year or two younger than me, but I’ve lived a life he’s only read about or seen in made-for-TV movies.
He places the saddle down, reaching out and taking Finn’s little hand in a real gentlemen’s handshake. “Got yourself a little cowboy there.”
“Maybe,” I say, starting to walk again.
“I’m here most mornings if you want to ride or just give the horses a walk or something.”
“I’ve got Finn,” I say. “I can’t really . . .”
“I can hold him,” he says. “I’m the oldest of ten.”
“Ten?” My eyes widen, and I take a little step back toward him. It’s nice to talk to someone after a weekend with no adult company. “Finn just crawled for the first time yesterday.”
He smiles, approaching me. “He’ll be ready for his first riding lesson any day then.”
“Probably should get him out of diapers first.” I laugh. “Speaking of, I think he might need to be changed.”
“I’ll walk you back,” he says.
“We’ll be fine,” I say, not wanting to encourage him in any way. He gives me a tight smile and a slight nod. I think he got my message.
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