Interesting development.
“She couldn’t be the one who put you in such a good mood, so it must be the wife.”
“What do you know about it?” Jake asked, trying to decide if he should grab his cooler and go find an even more remote spot or if he should fess up to Casler he lost his head whenever it came to Lila.
“Ever since she came back, you’ve been on edge. Broody.”
Jake couldn’t believe he’d used the word to describe him. “Broody?”
“Yeah, man. It’s obvious you want this chick, but something is holding you back. It’s making you broody. I mean, shit, look at this sunset. Why are you out here by yourself when that’s going on? It’s romantic as hell.” Casler tipped his beer at him before polishing off the last swallow.
He grinned, amused finally. “I’m not alone. You’re here. And speaking of you’re here, why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at Threasa’s?”
“I was there. Things were going good and then the shrew from hell showed up.”
Jake shook his head. “Howard must be paying some kind of penance to stay married to that woman. Although, what the hell, he deserves her.
“And the job?” he pushed, knowing Casler wanted to avoid talking about Threasa.
“Fine. It’s a much bigger job than probably even she recognized, but I’ll head over there after I finish here each day. We’ve got until spring.”
He knew it wouldn’t take that long for Casler to finish the job. Maybe he wanted to stretch it out, stay out at Threasa’s as long as he could?
Jake looked out, scanning the half-completed house on the pad. Although hot as hell, scraggly, and rock-strewn, he loved the landscape. Something about the wide-open vistas and raw connection to the earth held him there in Hannington, keeping him from moving on to bigger and more lucrative cities.
“So when are we all going to double-date?” Casler asked, laughing around the bottleneck in his mouth.
Jake sighed. “Never.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because we’re not getting back together, and she’s not staying in Hannington.” If he said it enough, he’d convince himself.
“So you’re getting divorced then?”
Jake rubbed his eyes. “Casler, don’t you have someone else to torment?”
“Nope. You’re my only friend.” As much as Jake didn’t think that fact rang true, he knew Casler felt it sometimes.
“Lila and I have been over for some time. It was a high school thing and we grew out of it.”
“So why are you still married to her?”
The truth? “I don’t know.”
Casler fell silent finally, and Jake drank his beer, trying not to think about why he stayed married to Lila. Yeah, he’d sent her the papers, but when she didn’t respond, he didn’t press the issue. Simply let it rest. He didn’t plan to ever marry again, and if she did, well, then she’d file.
Until then…
“Who’s there?” John straightened from his slouch on the tailgate.
He followed Casler’s look to the other side of the house pad. A tall, lithe woman stepped out of the shadows and into the last bit of light.
“It’s Threasa Thompson. I’m sorry to bother you out here. Jake, your secretary told me you guys were still here and I wanted to come by and give John some good news.”
Now, who would have guessed? Casler being pursued? “Sure. Come on over,” Jake said with a wave. He hopped down from the tailgate, leaving an empty spot next to Casler.
He threw his empty can in the cooler and pushed it up to nestle against the cab of his truck, where he secured it with bungee cords.
“Going somewhere?” Casler said.
“Yep. I gotta go. I promised my folks I’d be over for dinner and I’m late.”
“I’m not invited?” he teased, but Jake heard the subtle request for an out, a reason not to linger alone with Threasa.
When would he get it? If Casler didn’t seize the opportunity, she’d go elsewhere and he miss something good.
“Not this time. It’s something of a summit meeting.”
Casler snorted and eased his big body off the tailgate.
“We can move the party over to my truck. Come on, Threasa, and tell me the good news.”
“It’s not a big deal. If you need to be somewhere, I understand,” she blurted.
“Didn’t you just hear? I don’t have anywhere I need to be. It’s you and me. Now sit,” he said, pointing at the empty space on his lowered tailgate.
Jake’s hopped into his cab, watching Casler in his rearview mirror. Maybe he did get it. Maybe something of what Jake had said finally sank in.
Somebody needed to be happy, for Christ’s sake.
Lesson Number Sixteen —
Surround yourself with family, or good friends. A good group of women can help you with problems your man cannot.
Chapter Eighteen
The doorbell rang as she hung up the phone. For an instant Lila thought it might be Jake. Hope blossomed on the tail of excitement, but then fear set in, and she prayed it wasn’t Jake. Things were not progressing according to her plan at all. In fact, she considered it almost a complete failure.
“Who is it, Lila?” Granny shouted from the den over the melody of The Ellen DeGeneres Show intro.
“I don’t know.”
She looked through the diamond-shaped pane of glass on the front door and saw Margaret Winter standing outside.
Jake’s mother! Holy hell. Could she be here to tell Lila to quit chasing after her son?
A pillar of the community, generous to a fault, and always full of good cheer, Margaret was a wonderful woman, but protective of her son in a way that always left Lila feeling slightly chilled, like she didn’t measure up.
And damned if nothing had changed in the ten years Lila had been gone from Hannington, because she felt like that self-conscious eighteen-year-old all over again.
“Well, who is it?” Ellen introduced her favorite new book in the book club, but Granny’s voice drowned out the title.
“It’s Mrs. Winter,” Lila called back, trying not to shout. She didn’t want to give the waiting Mrs. Winter the impression she’d gotten lazy or lost her manners in Dallas.
She opened the door and fixed a proper smile on her face to receive her mother-in-law.
“Hello, Margaret.”
“Lila! It’s so good to see you.” Margaret’s face lit up, and her eyes, very much like her son’s, twinkled with emotion. Her enthusiasm did seem genuine. “When Jake told me you were in town, I had to come by to see you.” She reached out, grabbed Lila’s folded hands, and delivered a friendly squeeze.
“Would you like to come in? Granny and I are having some bread pudding.” She stepped to the side, allowing room for Margaret to enter the foyer.
”That sounds wonderful. I’d love to.”
Lila saw her mother-in-law to the dining room and placed her at the table, excusing herself to prepare the dessert for serving. Running to the den, she switched off the television and turned to Granny.
“Go in there and talk to Jake’s mother while I get the bread pudding ready.”
“We’re eating that now? I thought you were saving it for the Bombshells’ victory dinner.” Granny stood, rearranging her purple-casted arm more comfortably across her chest.
“I’ll make more.”
Granny strolled into the dining room, allowing Lila to breathe a sigh of relief.
Lila’s hands shook as she scooped the still-warm pudding into dessert cups. Margaret’s visit surely meant trouble.
Her mother-in-law had opposed her marriage to Jake on the grounds that they were too young and still had college ahead of them. Or as Lila had read between the lines: not good enough for her son. And then when Jake became ill, Mama had marched in, practically taking over their lives and Jake’s care.
It had been a stressful experience.
With the bowls of bread pudding in hand, Lila paused inside the kitc
hen, listening to Margaret whisper covertly to Granny.
“This Jenna Hillcrest is becoming a pest. I know the woman has more money than God, but that’s no reason to disregard common decency. Jake spends hours nearly every day placating her. I’m telling you, Barbara, she’s trying to wheedle her way into his life to become the new Mrs. Jacob Winter. And she’s barely divorced from her previous husband.”
Lila nearly dropped the bowls. She collapsed back against the cabinet, cradling the bread pudding and listening. The news took the breath out of her like a sucker punch to the abdomen.
“What does he say?” Granny asked.
“To mind my own business. Of course, he says it sweetly,” Margaret said.
Jake couldn’t remarry when he still had a wife. Maybe this explained his disinterest and his completely callous attitude after sex. If another women held his heart, why would he want to entangle himself with his old ball and chain?
A tear slid down her cheek, followed by another. Lila so wanted to do it right this time, and everything couldn’t be going more wrong.
“Lila, honey? Do you need any help?” Margaret called from the other room.
Swiping the back of her wrist across her eyes, Lila made her way into the dining room, plopping the bowls down on her grandmother’s veneered bird’s-eye maple table. She didn’t look up to see their reactions, just planted herself in a chair and grabbed her own bowl.
The awkwardness hung heavy in the room. She could feel it crawling up her scalp. It was another awful feeling to add to her mountain of grief. Yet another event she had soured and turned wrong despite her very best intentions.
“Ah, I was telling your grandmother I think it’s wonderful you’re staying in Hannington. It will be nice to have you around again. In fact, I told Jake the very thing last night at dinner.”
A streak of meanness gripped Lila. She wanted to hurt Jake’s mother as much as she hurt her with the news of another woman. “I really don’t know how long I’ll be staying.”
“Oh! I understood from Myra you bought the old store on the square. I’m sorry, I assumed that meant you were planning on staying. Jake said the work would take several months to finish and he seemed very interested in the project. Something about a bordello, and the mayor being quite upset.”
She looked up for the first time, meeting Margaret’s surprised gaze. “I can run the renovations and future business from Dallas. I don’t need to be in Hannington to do it.”
Why tell Margaret these lies? Lila didn’t have any plans to leave. But she hurt. Hurt to hear that other women wanted Jake and maybe, he wanted them back.
She could see Granny’s deepening frown from the corner of her eye. She would get a lecture about manners and the graciousness of hostesses when Margaret left; she could feel it in her bones.
“I hope you reconsider, dear. It would be wonderful for everyone—including Jake—to have you here. And we need someone with your talents and expertise. I mean, my goodness, a day spa. How wonderful!” Margaret’s spoon played in the dessert, but she didn’t take a bite.
Lila dropped her spoon against the bowl, the clank loud in her ears. “From what I understand, Jake’s ‘schedule’ is so busy, he doesn’t have any spare time for wives.”
Margaret’s mouth gaped. The look of shock on her mother-in-law’s face should have made her feel better, but it didn’t. It made Lila feel mean and small. She immediately wanted to take it back and apologize.
Granny rustled in her chair. “Margaret, you’re going to have to forgive Lila. The doctor says she’s suffering from a slight case of heatstroke. The medication is having an effect.”
Granny turned her blue eyes on Lila. Anger brimmed beneath their smooth surface. “Why don’t you go and lie down for a bit? Margaret and I can visit while you rest.”
She’d been ordered from the room and with good reason. Granny’s concocted story about heatstroke meant she’d get a lecture later. Her special way of excusing Lila’s bad manners without humiliating everyone involved. Always had been.
Jake’s mother bit her lip, on the verge of making a comment, but Lila’s aggressively hostile behavior had made her hesitant.
“I’m sorry, Margie.” She used her mother-in-law’s family name, letting her know she’d screwed up. “It’s difficult. Coming home. Things are the same, and yet, not the same. It’s taking me a while to readjust.”
Margaret slid her hand across the table and laid it on Lila’s. “I know, sweetie. Let me tell you a little secret, though. I haven’t seen Jake this motivated in ages. He blusters and pretends he doesn’t care. He does. And he can’t hide it from me. So don’t give up.”
Holy cow. She never expected this from Jake’s mother. She practically pushed Lila to go after him. Maybe she’d judged Margie unfairly.
“Besides, I want to help with this day spa. Where can I apply for a job?”
If there is a lesson I have learned throughout my life, it must be this: do not torture yourself needlessly with what you cannot or should not have. I learned this the way a dog learns not to mess the floor.
Physically, one painful day at a time.
So why I find myself at the train station from time to time is a mystery. It is as if my feet develop a mind of their own and I walk, not in the direction of the station, but somewhere else, the stables or the general store.
But I end up there anyway. Standing on the wide oak platform under the shade of the veranda, with dust clinging to the tips of my black-heeled shoes, watching the train come in from some eastern city, the slow chug of the wheels spitting steam as it rolls to a stop.
Not many passengers depart. A few. Never more than a handful. Mostly people in rumpled traveling clothes looking dazed and unsure, as if they think they took the wrong train and surely this dusty two-bit cow town is not really where they meant to go.
Eventually, after talking to the ticket man behind the iron bars of the cashier’s cage, they realize where they are and compose a more determined face, heading off in the direction of the waiting stagecoach. Sometimes, I see them later in the saloons around town and occasionally in the parlor of my own house.
I stay until the whistle blows and the people are gone. Until it is me and the noisy train, its black belly shoveled full of coal, belching plumes of white smoke over our heads.
The train makes its way out, heading north across the Red River and into the plains of Kansas.
Or so I am told. I always ask the ticket man where the train is going. As if I might one day buy a ticket and board the train.
I have never been to Kansas. And why should I? There are simply more towns like this one. More saloons, more hurdy-gurdy dance halls filled with young girls.
And always, more cowboys.
Hannington is just as good as any town.
I remind myself of this as I force my feet off the boardwalk and toward the cracked dirt street. Hannington is just as good as any town, better than some I have known.
Better than the filthy, overcrowded ramshackle tenement house I came from in crowded New York. Better than the poultry factory there, where I worked for two years, barely earning enough money to feed myself and pay rent. Better than the men I came to know on the docks of—
Enough. Refer to above lesson. Do NOT torture yourself with the past. You cannot change it, or relive it. You can only move forward and do your best not to repeat the same mistakes.
Life gives you second chances.
Take them and do better.
Jake ran. Past open fields and quietly grazing cattle toward where, he didn’t know. It felt good, this burning in his lungs and his legs. He hadn’t been able to sleep, so he’d decided what the hell, he’d get an early start on his run.
Except Casler had some kind of goddamn sixth sense, because the man waited outside for Jake, warming up.
He yawned, eyeing Casler, who looked fresh and awake. He could sleep for days, but when it came down to it, rest wouldn’t come. Not in his cold, empty bed. It suddenly see
med more like a tomb than a bed.
He’d taken to sleeping anywhere he could snatch fifteen minutes of solitude. His truck in between jobs. His kitchen table as he went over blueprints.
Christ, it seemed he hadn’t been able to sleep like a regular person since Lila’d come back into his life.
“Are we training for a marathon you forgot to tell me about?” Casler jogged beside him now, his words low and clipped under the strain of running.
“No.”
“Then you want to tell me why the fuck you’re trying to run my legs off? I’d like to use ’em later today if it’s okay with you.”
Jake kept his gaze on the road ahead. He could see the water tower in the distance, maybe two or three more miles. He could make it. And then he would stop.
But not before then.
“You can stop anytime, John.”
He heard Casler’s snort and felt him push forward before he blew Jake’s doors off.
“Try to keep up, old man.” The words drifted back to him.
He pushed himself harder. Faster. Maybe when he was exhausted enough, he would stop thinking of Lila.
Maybe.
But not likely.
Lesson Number Seventeen —
You may know what is best for you and your man, but he may not agree. Use persuasion and patience to make your claim. It will eventually pay off.
Chapter Nineteen
Lila left behind the brick streets of the town square for the open asphalt of the county highway. Her Lexus ate up the miles as she sped farther in the wide-open space of the county.
She’d called Reverie Construction for the last three days trying to get in touch with Jake, only to be told he was “out of the office.” As to her question of “when the hell will he be back?” the response remained unwaveringly the same every time: “When the job’s done.”
Well, Lila had a job for him to do and she had had enough sitting around watching Jeopardy! with Granny, waiting for the damn phone to ring. So, with map in hand, she tracked down Jake like a wanted man gone into hiding.
He’d better not bolt when she found him, or she might do something crazy, like hog-tie the fool.
Deconstructing Lila (Entangled Select) Page 15