by Naomi Niles
“What? Wait a minute. Are you telling me that is all mine?”
“Yes indeed, I am. I have the paperwork here. All you need to do is to sign and date the documents and please be sure to consult an accountant about the inheritance taxes. Between the café and the monies, after everything is said and done, I’d say you’ll end up with just about a million dollars.”
I had to grab the counter because I felt my knees weaken. There had to be some mistake; some cruel joke. There was no way this was possible.
“Are you quite okay, Ms. Christian?”
“I just don’t know what to say. A moment ago I was headed upstairs to pack everything my son and I own into two cardboard boxes and leave with nowhere to go. Now you tell me I’m a millionaire?”
“It would seem so. Now, there’s just one more thing,” he said, pulling out an additional paper. “Maudie owned a house, well, more of a farm, really, in Baton Rouge. It’s quite a place. It will also belong to you, but you must sign a non-disclosure as to how you came to have it. Only a court order can nullify this non-disclosure.”
“Why doesn’t she want anyone to know?”
“Well, Maudie was a shrewd businesswoman. She made her money off this café and the crops from the farm. She realized that if the townspeople thought she was very wealthy, the café would suffer. Jealousy and all that sort of thing, of course. So, to protect you, she wants to make sure that no one here in town knows about the farm or how you came to get it. You can tell people you live there, if you want to, but not how you came to get it.”
“I see. Well, that’s understandable, but I still cannot believe that Maudie had all this. She dressed in old cotton housedresses and always looked like she was one step from the bread line.”
“Her strategy, completely,” he grinned at the clever old woman’s surprise. “She was a character, to be sure.”
I signed the paperwork and when he left, I locked the door and sat down to a table to look everything over and try to deal with the enormity of what had just happened.
I looked around the café, at the grill where she’d taught me to fry steaks that enticed people from fifty miles away. I remembered her leaning over the fryer and showing me how to coat the catfish and deep-fry it just long enough that it was cooked inside and the batter was completely brown and delicious. The walls were filled with pictures of her posing with all sorts of celebrities who had stopped by over the years; lured by the reviews of her cooking. Perhaps that was the greatest gift she had left me: the confidence to know I was not just a blog writer, but a woman, a mother, a chef, and someone who could take of herself and a young child. She had taught me independence. I knew I would never forget her round face and twinkling eyes or the sound of her voice as she made up stories about her childhood. She had, indeed, been a character.
I stepped behind the counter and made Kirk and I some dinner. We had catfish and hush puppies and lemonade from freshly squeezed lemons. For dessert, there was peanut butter pie. It was a meal, and a day, to be remembered.
Chapter 16
Blake
I was lonely. The tour group had left Dallas three weeks earlier and I’d been riding broncos for something to do and to keep a little income heading my way. I was no longer drinking, so much of the romance of the sport had dissipated for me. Now it felt like a job. There was no challenge, no reason to get up in the morning and no reason to swagger when I entered a crowd of people. I was just another cowboy.
We’d all gone over to a local bar after the event one Saturday night. Her name was Barbara and she came up to me at the bar as I sipped my Coke and said she had been there the day I’d gotten my legs crushed. Ordinarily, this wasn’t the sort of opening line that stimulated me, but like I say, I was lonely.
I asked her to take the stool next to mine and I bought her a couple of drinks. Turned out she’d been following me for some time and waiting for an opportunity to meet me face to face. Naturally this did quite a bit for my ego and I was content to let her lay it on.
We shot a few games of pool and I let her win, but it was close. She had a pretty good eye for that sort of thing and I had to play my best game to keep her attention.
Afterwards, I did what I’d always done best: I took her back to the motel with me and screwed her. My first reaction had been one of disgust; I’d not been with anyone since Silver left and this strange woman’s body bore no resemblance whatsoever to the woman I loved. Nevertheless, there was a case to be made that I might never see Silver again and I wasn’t in any hurry to be alone for the rest of my life.
Barbara’s reaction came closest to gratitude of anything I could pinpoint. It was very odd, almost as if she was a groupie but my fan following had dwindled considerably after I stopped riding bulls. She clung to me and followed the circuit, always popping up at the event or at the bar where I was afterwards. I never offered to pay her way or let her travel with me, yet she was always there. It began to get a bit spooky. Eventually, I didn’t want to sleep with her anymore, but she refused to leave me alone. No matter where I was, she popped up. Hell, I didn’t even know her last name. I stopped inviting her back to the room with me, but she didn’t seem the least deterred, even taking a room in the same motel and as close to mine as possible. I knew then what it was like to have a stalker.
The circuit’s next stop was Baton Rouge. I’d always like that area, lots of trees and old southern history. I was riding broncos that night and thought after the event I’d take in some of the local sights.
It was a hot night and it was an outdoor event. I had sweat stains almost down to my waist and the broncos were particularly ornery that night. I was to ride Chaos, an animal known for its bad temperament. I still stayed away from the bulls; it was as if I knew they held death for me.
I could smell the rain even before the storm made its appearance. The horses knew, too, and they were skittish and wanting to get back into their trailers where it would be dry and there’s be plenty of oats to eat. I was getting ready for my turn, watching as they brought Chaos in from the holding pens. His eyes were wide as a bolt of lightning raked across the sky. It took two handlers to hold him down.
I was a bit agitated by the storm myself for some unknown reason. It was as if I was being watched by a force unknown. Nevertheless, I pulled on my gloves and climbed up above the horse, ready to descend, but he was wild-eyed. This was uncharacteristic for him and I began to wonder whether he’d been injected with something to make him crazed. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d heard of something like that.
Thunder deafened the entire audience as the lightning struck in the center of the arena. Chaos leaped straight up in the air just as I was settling down upon him and had grabbed the leather. He was hell unleashed and the handlers couldn’t calm him. They hollered at me to get off him, to let him out and run himself calm but I shook my head. I’d lost so much face already over not riding the bulls, I couldn’t back down further. I shook my head vehemently and hollered, “Open it!” They looked at one another and shrugged; it was my call.
We exploded when the gate opened. I gripped the reins hard and held the horn, my legs and all those newly re-generated muscles clamped as tightly as I could. I felt my body slam into sections, waist ahead and then behind my torso. I felt like a deck of shuffled cards.
Chaos was literally screaming as his eyes, crazed in fear, looked for a way to unseat me. A funnel of wind formed on the arena floor and circled toward us, picking up sand and pebbles and I could hear the crowd screaming as they pointed toward the phenomenon. I kept my seat until the wind hit us; literally picking Chaos up into the air and dropping us down into the ring. I was trapped beneath his flailing body as he screamed. They were trying to pull him off me, but his hooves thrashed blindly through the air in pain. Eventually they threw me a rope and I held on for dear life as they dragged me from beneath him while he rolled away momentarily. It was clear that both his legs were broken. I had nothing more to fear from him. They helped me to my feet and I
staggered toward the chute gate. Another bolt of lightning slapped the arena and I looked upward as the funnel lifted and rain bit my face. There, in the flash of light, stood a woman in a white dress and with silvery, whipping hair, looking like the goddess of lightning herself. She was standing in the first row of the stands and her expression was of terror as she looked at me. There stood my Silver. I heard a snap behind me and turned to see they had shot Chaos and were trying to cover him with a tarp until they could get a vehicle in to lift him out of the arena. His screams were silent then and all that remained was the awed vacuum of spectators, standing in the driving rain.
I looked around again, and she was gone.
* * *
I searched the stands for her throughout the rest of the event. There was no sign and I began to wonder whether she’d been real. I knew she was, though. I’d felt her presence even before we’d left the chute. Eventually the event was over and the crowds filtered off to go home. I stood by the gates and watched every single person leave; she was not among them.
In the meantime, I went into the event manager’s office and lodged an inquiry over what had happened with Chaos.
“He was spurred or high, I don’t know which. You need to order an autopsy.”
This was met with laughter. “Like who’s going to do something about it?” George guffawed.
“Damnit, it’s ruining the industry! How many of those kids out there are going to have nightmares tonight from watching that horse shot. You need to build some integrity or we’ll all go down with the boat!”
“Calm down, Blake. Just because you’ve had some hard times is no reason to take a shot at us!”
“Damnit, are you really so stupid as to think this is about me? It’s about the sport, the industry, the owners, and the corruption.”
George’s eyes narrowed. “I’d be careful who I said that around, Blake.”
“To hell with you all!” I hollered and left the trailer. It had been a really shitty night and it could have been so different … so different …
Chapter 17
Meli
I staggered into the house and could feel such utter sorrow in my heart. He had been there, he was worn out and he wasn’t even on a bull. It was all true. He’d lost his nerve. He was no longer the Blake Temple I’d known and fallen in love with.
Marie was waiting for me.
“The boys, they are asleep,” she said. “They played in the sandbox until it rained and then they played in the mud,” she laughed. “It took me an hour in the tub to get them clean again.”
“Thank you for watching Kirk, Marie. I had to go.”
She put down the knitting in her lap. “I know this,” she said. “Come, sit down and let’s talk about it.”
Marie had become my best friend in the world. I felt closer to Marie than I ever had to Jill. I had paid off Marie’s house so we lived there practically free; only the taxes and utilities had to be paid. Marie gardened so we ate very well and the boys played in the hot sunshine all day and slept soundly at night. It was an idyllic way to raise Kirk and since neither boy had a father figure, neither one missed it.
Marie had been attacked on a dark back road one night and when she had realized she was pregnant, she had decided that she should keep and raise the child. She was a preservationist of life and I had to admire and agree with her views.
Marie did not, naturally, know about the house in Baton Rouge, but she asked no questions so it was easier to stay here, close to the café and where I had backup care for Kirk.
The house in Baton Rouge had been a revelation indeed. Situated on over 200 acres, the building was more of a plantation than a simple house. In a Tara-like style, it featured Grecian columns and a broad porch that protected floor to ceiling windows. There were ten bedrooms and baths, a formal dining room, a mammoth kitchen with state of the art appliances, a bowling alley in the basement, a nursery, a library, and even servant’s quarters. I don’t know what possessed Maudie to buy such a place; maybe simply because she could. The café had evidently been far more successful than anyone realized. She’d never displayed her wealth and had invested wisely. I hoped she had been able to get some enjoyment from the place. Eventually, I planned to sell the café and move here with Kirk when it was time for him to go to school. It would be a better school system, shopping, and the amenities were far closer and it would have a more cosmopolitan atmosphere for a growing child. But for now, we would stay put at Marie’s and I would tend to the café and continue to write my blogs. I wanted life to stay as normal as possible for Kirk.
I had been tracking Blake since Thanksgiving. I knew he’d been hurt and that he’d had a long recovery. That had prompted my short message to him; it was all I could do without getting my heart involved.
Then had come the news that there was to be an event in Baton Rouge. I thought it to almost be an omen and couldn’t ignore it. I had asked Marie to watch Kirk and although she had no idea why, she asked no questions.
I drove down the night before and went through the house, getting familiar with what I’d have to do to keep it shut up but in good condition until I was ready to move into it. Then came the time for the rodeo and I’d taken a high seat where I wouldn’t be noticed. I was still wearing the dress from my afternoon meetings, but didn’t have time to go back to the farm and change.
I had looked for him during the bull events, but he hadn’t shown and I began to get very sad because I thought I’d missed him entirely. Then had come the broncos, on the advent of that storm and just like a human bolt of lightning, there he was. I thought what it had felt like to see him again after so long.
The black hair that always fell over his eyes was unchanged, except that maybe it was a bit longer. His legs looked lean and strong, despite the horrible injuries he had sustained. He appeared to be totally recovered and I wondered why, if that was true, he wasn’t on a bull. I was pretty sure I knew, but that hurt to think about, too, because I wanted to help him overcome that anxiety of the bulls. I think I could have done it—I’d just made that tactical error of falling in love with him.
I looked at Kirk now and realized how much he looked like his father. There was an inner core of guilt that I was keeping a child from his father, and even vice versa. I was afraid, however, that Blake was on hard times, mentally speaking, and linking up with us would do nothing to enhance his career.
I had seen the woman with the black hair standing at the rail. She was screaming his name and even though he didn’t acknowledge her, I just knew they’d been together. The woman called out endearments and references to “the last time we were together” in full hearing of half the viewing stands. I couldn’t imagine Blake having fallen that far, but then he’d been in hard times all the way around and it wasn’t fair of me to judge. I hardly had been an angel.
A few men had asked me out at the café, but I turned each of them down with weak excuses and pretty soon I’d run through all the eligible men in town. It was important to me, however, that when I turned them down, they remained my friend. In some cases, they had even assumed the role of champion, protecting me from strangers who might wander in. The sheriff’s deputy, Lance Turner, in particular hung around the café late at night as I was washing the dishes and closing down. He sat in the booth nearest the door, drinking coffee and when I was ready to lock up, he waited and walked me to my car. I had a good idea he was sweet on me but had witnessed too many rejections of others to hold out hope. Instead, he had appointed himself my guardian and I was truly appreciative.
One nice thing about a small town like that: people didn’t question you why an unwed mother had shown up in the dead of the night. I knew there were rumors. I’d heard some people thought I was on the run from the law and that Kirk belonged to a bank robber. Another rumor was that my daddy had ordered me to marry someone I didn’t love and that I’d gotten pregnant to avoid it and he’d thrown me out. Yet another popular one was that I was some celebrity from New York City who had gott
en mixed up in drugs and escaped to the south where no one would know me or ask questions. None of the scenarios bothered me particularly; they kept me from telling the truth. Bull riders never entered their mind, thank God.
Marie was talking and my attention was snapped back to the present. “I’m sorry, my mind was wandering.”
“Yes, I know. He is handsome, the man you went to see from afar.”
I jerked around to look at her. “How did you know?”
“There is a look of love and loss on your face. You are too good of a woman to have been loose. The father of Kirk was a good man, perhaps too good for you, you believe. Mon Cherie … that is not true. You are one of the best women I’ve ever had the pleasure to know and that man would be proud to have you at his side. The boy deserves to know his father, you know. He will grow up eventually. You cannot hide him forever.”
“I suppose you’re right, but for right now, well, it’s just too complicated.”
“I understand. But if the man loves you, it is his decision whether you deserve to be in his life. I think you value him more than yourself and this is wrong. It is not healthy; not for you and not for the boy.”
I hadn’t ever taken that perspective before. She was right, though. I was, in a certain respect, teaching Kirk to have low self-esteem. And she was right that one day he would want to know about his father and the truth would come out. If not from me, I knew Jill would spill the beans. She had always been jealously mean.
I realized then that I hadn’t spoken to Jill in almost two years! She must be worried to death! I resolved to fix that immediately.
“Marie, I have a call to make.”
“Yes, you should,” was all she would say and I went outdoors and sat on the porch. I dialed Jill’s number, careful to block my own before I called.
“Hello?”
“Jill?”