“Chris, you look exhausted. Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I feel great, why?” Chris glanced away.
Frances’s dander rose despite an effort to control her temper. “You went to Rochester again, didn’t you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Darn it, Chris! I would think you’d be more careful. If you start drinking socially again, you’ll end up hurting yourself, or others for that matter.”
“Frances, I am not being self destructive if that’s what you’re implying. I promised you a long time ago that I wouldn’t do that again. I’m fine.”
Frances frowned. “Chris, you’re not fine. I just wish you had someone.” She reached out and touched Chris’s shoulder.
Chris shrugged the hand off. “What? A babysitter?”
The set of Chris’s jaw told Frances she was attempting to control the tone of her voice. “No. Of course not. But you should get out and meet more people in places other than a bar. Meet somebody who has similar interests. I can’t imagine you’d find someone like that in a bar. You need to make more friends.”
“I’ve got you, Frances. You’re all I need,” Chris said with a pleading look in her eyes.
“Oh, honey, I know. But I can’t do the things I used to when I was younger. I don’t ride anymore, and I can’t take long walks like we used to.”
Chris’s frustration was evident. “I don’t trust anyone else.” She ran her hands through her hair, crossed her arms over her chest, and stood staring out at the pastures.
“One of these days,” Frances said, “you’re going to have to learn. Learn to trust yourself more as well as someone else. Promise me that at least you’ll try.”
Chris snapped at her, “Right. Fine. Whatever. I’m going to unload your feed.” With that, she stomped away
Frances stood rooted in place. She’d seen Chris in moods like this, and usually no amount of talking would change it. Instead, she returned to the house and started making breakfast. She glanced outside a couple of times while cooking to see if Chris’s truck was still by the barn.
A pounding drew her to the window, and she peeked out. Chris was kneeling on the roof of the barn, swinging a hammer. She often vented her emotions by working.
How could Chris blame her for how she felt? Frances was frustrated that Chris kept everything bottled up. Her friend worked hard to keep everyone at bay and not let them get to know the real her.
Some days, like today, Frances wasn’t even sure she knew the real Chris herself.
* * *
Mary Jo considered the day unusually humid for late October. Clouds had moved in during the night, keeping the typical fall temperatures at bay. The trees were past their peak in color, but they still lent magnificence to the landscape, although the slightest breeze sent a shower of leaves to the ground. Soon the woods would be bare, awaiting the inevitable snow and cold.
The idea of taking advantage of the day proved irresistible. After driving to Frances’s place, she parked her truck in front of the house. She turned off the engine and heard pounding coming from the direction of the barn.
Frances came out of the house and strode toward Mary Jo as she swung the truck’s door open.
“Hello, Frances.” Mary Jo hadn’t been able to make her breakfast date in three weeks. Something always came up, like last-minute appointments and emergencies. She was glad to be able to spend time with her new friends at last. “What’s with all the pounding?” She took a fleeting look at the barn.
“Good morning.” Frances followed her gaze. “Oh, it’s Chris. She found a leak in the roof over the horses and decided it couldn’t wait until after breakfast. Why don’t you see if you can coax her down for a few minutes?”
Mary Jo laughed. “Yeah, we both know it won’t take but three point two seconds for her to eat. I’ll go see what I can do.”
Frances joined in, but her laugh sounded half-hearted. “Tell her I made her a Bloody Mary for her hangover.”
“Ha! What was she doing? Out drinking last night?”
With a frown, Frances answered abruptly, “Yes, she was.” She spun on her heel and hurried back to the house.
Confused by Frances’s abrupt mood change as well as the shadow that had crossed her face, Mary Jo pondered the reason. Giving up, she followed the noise to the back of the barn. She caught a glimpse of tanned skin as she rounded the corner and saw Chris on the roof, bent over, and expertly swinging a hammer. Clad in nothing but cargo shorts and a sports bra, Chris was all taut muscle and smooth flesh. The muscles in her legs and arms flexed as she worked, and a light coating of sweat shimmered on her skin.
She has no idea how hot she looks up there. And I don’t mean temperature. Mary Jo sighed, feeling an all too familiar warmth flare between her legs. Her mouth was dry, and she was barely able to utter a sound. She cleared her throat, hoping it would be enough to gain Chris’s attention. Nope. Jesus, I wish my salivary glands would start working properly.
She managed to squeak, “Hey, you coming in for breakfast?”
Chris stood up straight, brushed a strand of hair off her forehead with the back of her hand, and looked down at Mary Jo. She removed a couple of the nails clamped between her lips and shoved them into her pocket.
Lucky nails, Mary Jo thought.
She waited while Chris wordlessly scrutinized her work. Obviously satisfied, Chris locked eyes with Mary Jo, and a slow, flirtatious smirk spread across her face as she said, “Do I really need to come? Before breakfast?”
Mary Jo ignored Chris’s sexual innuendo. “Frances said to tell you she has your Bloody Mary ready.” Chris’s eyes narrowed. “Out late last night?” she said, hardly believing she dared ask the question.
“Tell her I’ll be right there.” Chris whipped around and stomped to the other end of the roof. Within thirty seconds, the pounding resumed.
Mary Jo stared but saw nothing but empty sky. She returned to the house, wondering what had just happened.
“Was it something I said? Should I have played along with her? God, this woman confuses me, yet I can’t help wanting to be around her,” she said to herself.
When she walked into the house, Frances was sitting at the table, staring into space. The mug of coffee she held no longer steamed. Apparently, the sound of the opening door broke her trance. She got up, went to the sink, and dumped her coffee. She didn’t turn around.
Mary Jo glanced at the table. Oddly enough, the only thing on it was the Bloody Mary. “Is everything okay, Frances?” she asked quietly from the doorway.
“I’m just worried about Chris, as usual.”
Mary Jo moved closer and attempted to make eye contact. “Did something happen?”
Frances blew a sigh and turned to face her. “Yes… no… oh, Mary Jo, she goes to that bar up in Rochester. It worries me because it’s in a bad part of the city. She didn’t go up there for a long time, and now it seems she’s frequenting it more.”
“Have you talked to her about how you feel?”
“More times than I can count. I probably shouldn’t have said anything this morning. It’s that she’s had issues before.” Frances looked down. “I do what I can, but I think she’s just lonely. She’s either too proud to admit it or doesn’t know it herself.”
Mary Jo lightly touched Frances’s arm. “Would you like me to see if she’ll talk to me?”
“Frankly, I don’t know if she will. She’s managed to build a wall between herself and the rest of the world. I suppose it’s a product of her past. Oh, she comes across as this strong, confident woman, but behind that wall, she’s very insecure.”
Their quiet conversation ended when Mary Jo heard Chris scraping mud off her boots. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, “I’ll see what I can do.”
Frances acknowledged her promise with a slight nod.
Mary Jo busied herself setting the table while Frances dealt with the food. When she heard the door open and saw Chris coming inside, she stole a glance at Frances and returned to her task.<
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“That leak over the stalls is all patched up,” Chris said. She walked to the table, reached around Mary Jo, and snatched up her Bloody Mary. After winking at Mary Jo, she went over to Frances. She set the glass down and put her arms around Frances’s shoulders from behind.
Glancing out of the corner of her eye, Mary Jo saw Chris lean in and whisper something in Frances’s ear.
Frances grabbed a dishtowel and flicked it at Chris. “Oh, go get washed up, you.”
Chris took the towel and flipped it over her shoulder. She turned on the sink faucet and splashed water on her face. When she finished washing up, she leaned against the counter and rubbed the towel over her face and hands.
Mary Jo noticed the sudden quiet and took a quick look up. She barely resisted staring at Chris’s bare stomach. Instead, she found herself gazing into her blue eyes. She smiled a little, broke her gaze, and returned the coffeepot to the stove.
“Hey,” Chris said to Mary Jo. “Do you ride at all?”
“Me?” Mary Jo asked, going on when Chris nodded, “I haven’t in a while. Why?”
“It’s such a gorgeous day out, I thought I’d take a ride out to the back forty. I was wondering if you’d want to go, too.”
“I’d love to, but I’ve got a couple of horses to see this morning.” Mary Jo hid the shock she felt at the invitation, although she was flattered as well. Shit, shit, shit. Why didn’t I let Doc take those appointments? Her heart fluttered in her chest.
There were only ten scheduled calls to make. Either she or Doc could have easily handled all of them, letting the other have the day off, but they’d agreed to split them up so both could enjoy some free time unless there was an emergency.
“Well, maybe another time, then.” Chris pulled a chair out from the table. “But I’ll be around the farm all day if you find you can get away. Just give me a call. Be right back.” She disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
Frances pulled the casserole dish out of the oven. “Mary Jo, would you please put a hot pad on the table? Then we’ll be ready to eat.”
“Sure.” Mary Jo opened a drawer under the cupboards and started to search.
“Nope. Look in the next drawer down.”
Mary Jo automatically glanced up in Chris’s direction, and all thoughts evaporated. Chris stood in the bathroom doorway, having changed into a white T-shirt minus the sports bra. The shirt left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Perfect breasts pushed against the fabric and hinted of the nipples underneath.
She realized she wasn’t breathing as she stared outright at Chris. Suddenly embarrassed, she hid her face and gazed deliberately into the next drawer down. The heat of a flush crept up her neck. Chris moved to the table and took a seat opposite Frances. Oh, thank God, I couldn’t possibly have hit my mouth with my fork with her sitting across from me.
While waiting for Mary Jo, Frances had put the hot casserole dish on a towel. Mary Jo distracted herself by replacing the towel with the pad she had found.
She handed Frances her plate to fill, trying unsuccessfully to look at anything but Chris, but she needn’t have worried about Chris noticing her frequent glances. Apparently, she wasn’t aware of anything except the contents of her plate. So far, the Bloody Mary had gone untouched, as if to prove a point. While they ate, Frances and Chris engaged in conversation regarding the rest of the barn roof.
Mary Jo set her fork on the side of her plate and listened, while unabashedly examining Chris’s profile as she talked to Frances. She watched in fascination as the muscles in Chris’s jaw clenched and relaxed while she chewed. When she frowned, a little dimple formed on the side of her face.
Chris absently pushed a strand of hair off her forehead and, without warning, asked Mary Jo. “Where’d you say you were from?”
“Huh?” Mary Jo grunted, surprised at the sudden change in topic. “Oh, um, over near Poughkeepsie. It’s where—”
“Yeah, I know where it is.” Chris’s eyes narrowed, and her voice was so sharp, Mary Jo fancied it could have split hair. “I’ve got to get going. I have a bunch of horses to work today.” She pushed away from the table and rose abruptly from her chair. She put her dishes in the sink and walked out the door without another word.
Mary Jo stayed seated with Frances. What the hell had just happened? She heard Chris whistle for the dogs. A truck door slammed, and the engine roared as Chris drove down the drive.
When the sound of the engine faded, the only thing Mary Jo heard was the ticking of the wall clock above the table.
“Did I just miss something?” Mary Jo flushed with nervousness.
“Well, I’m not exactly sure what happened, Mary Jo,” Frances said. “Chris’s been in an odd mood this morning.”
“So I gathered. Should we do something?” Mary Jo got the coffeepot and topped up Frances’s cup, then her own.
Frances sighed deeply. “Would you mind going to see her after work today?”
Mary Jo was completely taken aback by the request. “I think I’d be the last person she’d want to see, especially since it was obviously something I said.” She returned the pot to the stove and sat back down at the table.
“She probably wouldn’t admit it, but you going over there might do her some good.” Frances idly stirred her coffee with a spoon. “She gets herself in such a funk sometimes. I think you might just be the fresh face she needs.” After some thought, she added, “Don’t be offended if she tries to brush you off. It’s just her way of hiding from the world.”
“So if she comes at me with a pitchfork, I shouldn’t run?”
Frances laughed. “Well, only if the tines are pointed right at you. Seriously, Chris isn’t the violent type. She wouldn’t hurt a flea. She just won’t admit to herself that she needs to open up a little. It’s difficult for her. I think she’d rather work herself to death than try to express herself to someone.”
Mary Jo was slightly perplexed. “She sure doesn’t seem like an introvert. Every time I’ve been around her, she seems so confident.” Despite feeling a bit self-conscious, she said, “I’ve even gotten the feeling that she’s tried to flirt with me a few times.”
“I think that’s the part of Chris that wants to break through. I know it’s not lost on you, what a nice-looking woman she is. Chris once told me she’d rather have somebody look at her body and forget about talking. She likes to keep all her feelings pushed down deep, but they eventually come out at unexpected and completely inappropriate times. We saw a little of that this morning.”
Mary Jo recalled Chris standing framed in the bathroom doorway and agreed. “Okay, I’ll try to sneak over there after calls if it’s not too late. I’ll let you know one way or the other, but if I turn up missing tomorrow, you can bring out the hounds and start scouring the woods for a shallow grave.”
“Oh, you. You’ll be fine.” Frances chuckled as she got to her feet to locate a Tupperware container and lid in the cupboard. “You’ll take some of this with you, right?”
“Yes, I will. I must remember to bring all your containers back.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t run out anytime soon.” Frances spooned casserole into the container and snapped the lid on. “Thanks, Mary Jo. I’m not saying it’ll be easy getting to know Chris, but I think it’ll be good for both of you.”
“Frances, are you trying to play matchmaker?” Mary Jo kidded.
“Whatever happens, happens for a reason.” Frances smiled and handed her the container. “Here you go. So, you’ll call later?”
“Yup.” Mary Jo hefted the container. “Thanks. This’ll keep me going for a meal or two. I have to get moving.” She went out the door and left in her truck.
Between calls, Mary Jo rehearsed what she might say to Chris. Besides trying to come up with appropriate things to say, she’d need to summon the courage to approach a sensitive subject. Poughkeepsie was obviously at the heart of why Chris stormed out of Frances’s house. Was that where her family lived? What or whom
had she run away from? Or had she run to something or someone?
Mary Jo wondered if the problem had anything to do with Chris’s sexuality. Was it possible she’d been kicked out of her home because of it?
Idle thoughts and questions ran through Mary Jo’s mind as she drove. She considered broaching the subject of Frances’s main concern: Chris’s drinking. Then again, she’d probably end up sounding like a parrot and appear to be choosing sides. Or worse yet, come across as judgmental.
She decided to drop in on Chris and let fate take its course. If Chris felt like talking, so be it. She would listen. Should that not be the case, she’d deal with it.
Her schooling and training as a vet had taught her to think on her feet. She hoped she wouldn’t find herself tongue-tied when that training was put to the test in the presence of Chris Martel.
Chapter 11
Chris drove home, lost in thought. Poughkeepsie. Of all the places Mary Jo could have named, Poughkeepsie was one she never wanted to hear again.
She came from a small place just south of Poughkeepsie, a little town named Red Oaks Mills. What are the odds? Christ, I thought I’d left that all behind. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep from reliving the events of the night she ran away.
On the tenth of September, two days before her seventeenth birthday, she gave herself a birthday present. She packed as much as she could carry in her backpack. What she couldn’t pack, she wore. The long hours between nine o’clock in the evening, when she went to her room, and midnight, when They finally came upstairs to bed, dragged painfully.
She had lain down on her bed, fully clothed with the covers over her, and waited. Surges of anxiety rubbed her nerves raw, making her shiver constantly, but she knew what she had to do. Get out. Once positive They were asleep, she’d quietly slipped out of the house and walked the entire ten miles to Poughkeepsie. That was the day she’d met Bill Went. As far as she was concerned, that was the day her life began.
Chris shook her head to clear the cobwebs and discovered she was sitting in her truck in her own driveway. Her body must have taken over to get her safely home, just as her brain had sent her back years in time. The tightness that had developed in her chest bordered on the panic she’d felt when she ran away and the anger that consumed her afterward. Still upset by the unpleasant memories, she opened the door to let the dogs out.
Laurie Salzer - A Kiss Before Dawn Page 10