by Paty Jager
“We aren’t going to let you walk out of our lives without a fight,” he said, tilting his head toward Maddie. Carina’s eyes widened and her body relaxed.
“We can’t…” she pushed against him as she protested.
He held firm and kissed her again until she relaxed in his arms. “You’re not running any more. Get that furniture sold. I have a payment to make until I can make you come to your senses and marry me.”
She looked at Maddie and back at him. “You shouldn’t talk like that in front of Maddie.”
“Why not? There aren’t going to be any secrets in this house.”
“I don’t have any secrets. Not any more.” She pulled out of his arms this time and walked over to the sink.
Brock walked up behind her. The pink sky and orange orb of the sun painted the world outside the window in vibrant color.
“Without secrets, we can confront all our fears.”
She looked at him from over her shoulder. “You’re fears are more valid than mine. You can battle them.” She sighed and hung her head. “Mine are all in my head.”
“Stay and let us help you slay them.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and they watched the sun rise into the sky, bringing the snow covered ground to sparkling life.
Carina wanted to feel his strong arms around her and the warmth of his breath on her neck every day. To be a part of this family and loved by every one of them would be blissful. She’d yet to hear Brock say those three little words. Until she did, she would not jeopardize her heart.
Seventeen
Roscoe started barking and Maddie ran to the back door. “Willie T’s here,” she called, slamming the door and running out to greet him.
Brock continued to hold Carina as they watched Maddie and Willie T put their heads together before entering the house.
“She’s telling him everything she thinks she knows,” he said, giving Carina a slight squeeze before stepping away to pull a cup out of the cupboard. Handing the cup to Carina, who reached for the coffee pot, he added, “You may remain at Haven as long as you want, married or not.” He looked her in the eyes wanting her to know his proposal the night before wasn’t being taken back this morning.
Stomping and giggles echoed in the mudroom before Willie T and Maddie entered the kitchen.
“Is that breakfast I smell?” the old man asked, sitting down in his usual spot at the kitchen table. Brock placed the cup of coffee in front of him and motioned for Carina to take a seat as well.
She poured two more cups of coffee and placed one in front of Brock before sitting to his right.
The phone rang. Carina exchanged pleasantries with Willie T when Brock went to answer the phone. Who would call this early in the morning?
She swirled the coffee in her cup barely registering Brock said her name as she contemplated how to get out of the mess she’d made.
“Carina. It’s for you.” He held the phone out toward her. Did she give Georgie this number?
“Who is it?”
Brock smiled, “Your mother.”
Her mother? She thought of Brock’s proposal. Talking to her mother would remind her of all she’d left behind and would have to return to.
Carina gripped the phone in both hands. “Mom?”
“Yes, Carina.”
Tears warmed her eyes hearing the familiar, loving voice. Even though she came all this way to put distance between them, until the miscarriage, they had been close.
“Don’t cry,” her mother said, in a voice on the verge of doing the same.
“How did you know?”
“What?”
“That I was crying?” Carina, brushed at the tears. The three at the table had their heads bowed together as if talking.
“Because you never could keep emotion out of your voice. How do you think I always knew you were in mischief?”
“It’s so good to hear from you.”
“Are you sure? I thought you moved way out west to get away from me.” The pout in her mother’s voice layered her with guilt, but no regrets
“Not you, so much as everything. I needed a change.”
“Come home, Carina. I miss you.” The sorrow in her mother’s voice shamed Carina.
“I miss you too, but this move has been good for me. Did you get the photos I e-mailed?”
“Yes, they’re wonderful pieces. In fact Mrs. Thomlin may purchase all of them for her summer cottage at the lake.”
Carina pumped her hand in the air. She knew they would catch the eye of someone who’d pay top dollar. “When she does, e-mail me and I’ll give you the name and address of where to send the money.”
Brock’s head popped up. “Just have her put it in your bank account. I assume she has access?”
“It will be more than my wages,” she said, holding the phone away from her ear. “And it needs to go to the nanny agency.”
“How do you know it will be more?” His dark eyes glowed with stubbornness.
“We’ll discuss this later,” she said, turning her attention back to the phone.
“What was that all about?” her mother asked in an amused tone.
“I’ll tell you later. When you sell the pieces put the money in my account.”
“But I thought these belonged to the family you work for?”
“They do. Mom, it’s a long, complicated story. Just put the money in my account.”
“You haven’t turned to stealing or something?”
“Mother! No. Just do as I ask.”
“Are you taking care of yourself? You know after a trauma like yours it sometimes…”
“I’m fine, Mother. Give me a call when you put the money in.” Carina didn’t want to hear all about how she should be taking care of herself.
“I love you, Mom. Bye.” Carina hung up the phone, but kept her hand on the receiver. They’d always been close. The year since the miscarriage had pushed them apart. Her mother had never dealt well with loss. First her husband and then her granddaughter. Carina pinched the bridge of her nose. Loss wasn’t easy on anyone.
An arm circled her shoulder and she looked up into Brock’s concerned eyes.
“She’ll be fine.” The calmness of his voice made her trust him to be right.
She turned, wrapping her arms around his middle and burying her face in his strong chest. “I know she will, it’s me I’m worried about,” she whispered, clinging to his strength. How had she gone this long holding all the guilt in? Having spilled her secret, it was as if someone pulled the plug and she was swirling down the drain. Everything was out of her control, and she had no idea where it would lead.
Eighteen
Carina sat atop a brown mare with a calm disposition and slow gait. “I know you’re afraid something bad could happen, but putting me on a horse that’s about to croak isn’t going to teach me how to ride,” she said to Brock’s back as his horse briskly out distanced her.
“Copper isn’t about to keel over. She’s a wise twenty-seven and a good teacher for someone who’s never been on a horse.” The glint in his eye when he turned his horse to come back to her slow-moving steed, told her he was up to something.
“You took an hour teaching me all about the tack and how to put them on and what could be wrong if a horse starts acting up when they are saddled and bridled. I want to run around the arena like Maddie and Cookie.” With that she nudged her horse in the ribs. Surprisingly, the mare shot forward, forcing Carina to sit back hard in the saddle. She grabbed the horn with both hands. The rhythm of the animal bounced her up and down like a midget dribbling a basketball.
“Whoa, whoa!” she shouted, but the beast kept on bouncing, causing her breasts to ache and her butt to throb.
Realizing she wasn’t going to fall off, she let loose of the horn to stabilize her bouncing body parts.
A shrill whistle brought Copper to a stop so fast Carina had to put her hands out to keep from falling over the horse’s shoulder. Thundering hooves echoed in the building. Brock
rode his horse up alongside.
“What was that about?” The anger in his eyes softened when his gaze traveled down her arms to her clutched bosom. “Do you own any bras beside the flimsy one you had on the other day?”
Her cheeks heated at the mention of their interrupted heavy petting in the barn. After all, they were alone in the barn once more, and she’d thought of that day many times while slowly walking the mare around the arena.
“One.”
“Well, next time you ride, wear it. A woman needs to support her breasts when she rides. That’s why I had you only walk.”
“I don’t believe you. You had me walk so I wouldn’t want to ride again.” His eyebrow shot up. She’d hit the reason he’d made everything about riding boring. “Admit it. You made this first lesson intentionally boring, so I wouldn’t hound you to give me more.”
“I wasn’t boring you intentionally.” He reached out. “Let me help.” His horse moved next to hers and his hands gently massaged her sore breasts. The heat his touch generated whisked away any trace of irritation the trotting horse caused.
She stood up in the stirrups and twisted. “Um, it hurts here too.” She pointed to her right buttocks, and he grinned, placing a hand on her bruised body part.
“Mmmm.” His hands made more than her sore bottom heat.
“I’m trained in massage therapy,” he whispered before his lips brushed her ear.
“Really?”
“I can show you. In the feed stall.” He dismounted, leading his horse and hers across the arena.
“It’s the middle of the day, what about the kids?” she asked, glancing around, wondering how a riding lesson could turn into a mid-afternoon tryst. And how she could go through with it, knowing she would lose more of her heart to a man who didn’t want a commitment.
“Willie T will keep them busy.” He reached up to help her off the horse. He held her in the air, her feet dangling, kissing her until she forgot everything. Oh, but the wonderful sensations his kiss spread through her body. She slid down his chest, her wobbly legs barely held her when he tucked her against his side and escorted her to the familiar pile of hay.
“We really shouldn’t. Not here, where anyone can walk in on us.” Even as she uttered the words, her hands worked the snaps on his jacket free. She knew each time she made love with Brock would make it harder to leave, but she couldn’t stop. It was more than the need to feel his strong arms around her. She wanted to make him forget Beth and see her for someone he could some day love.
“Who could walk in? Willie T has the kids. Jack is out with the cows.” He unzipped her coat, pushing it off her arms. Heat rippled in her belly as his hands slid under her shirt, cupping her tender breasts. For a moment, all thoughts left her. His touch spiraled heat through her body. Shaking her head, she knew there was something about someone walking in…
She sighed when his mouth covered hers. Fighting the desire to succumb to his touch, her mind wrestled to capture a piece of information she knew was important. Something that should have been mentioned…
She went still, remembering the visitor the night before.
“Beth’s dad.”
Brock’s body went rigid, putting space between them. His hands stopped their exploration. “What?”
“Mr. Johnson could show up.”
“Why would he come out here?” His eyes didn’t hold the heat of passion anymore. They darkened with indignation.
Carina stepped back. Brock’s hands fell to his side and bunched in fists.
“With everything that happened, I forgot to tell you he was here last night. Before you got back from checking the cows.” She reached down for her coat. Brock grabbed it from her, helping her back into it.
“What did he want?”
“He said something about talking some numbers over with you. But I think he mainly just wanted to get a look at me.” Anger flared at the memory of his words. “He called me a whore. He doesn’t even know me.”
Brock uttered a string of profanity and snapped his coat shut. “That son-of-a-bitch has no right on this property or calling you names.”
“Where are you going?” Fear for Brock had her clinging to his arm as he started out of the stall.
“To call him and tell him to keep the hell off my land.”
Carina let him go. His anger wasn’t consolable. She gathered the horses and led them to the tack room. After unsaddling and brushing the animals, she put them out and headed to the house.
Brock stormed out as her foot touched the bottom porch step. He didn’t even acknowledge her when he passed. Not wishing to take the brunt of his anger, she let him go as Roscoe hurried around the side of the house.
Stomping to his pickup, Brock mumbled under his breath and wondered not for the first time, why the hell he let the man get to him. No one could make him sell the ranch, so why did he resent the man trying?
Because the son-of-a-bitch knows how much the land means to me.
Selling the ranch would be the equivalent of selling Maddie or Tate. It was a part of him. He loved it.
Jamming the vehicle in gear, he slammed his foot on the accelerator. The pickup roared to life, fishtailing out of the yard and onto the road. He’d find Jack, check on the cows, and make a trip around the perimeter of the property.
It would give him a chance to make sure Johnson hadn’t brought people out to inspect the land, hoping someone would offer an amount Brock couldn’t refuse.
He slammed his palm on the steering wheel. He’d never sell. Now that Carina was here, Maddie would go back to school after the Christmas break and things would be back to normal.
But how long would Carina stay? He rubbed his gut. The thought of her leaving was something he didn’t want to think about. But it was inevitable. After a while she’d want to go back to Chicago and her family and friends. All city women slowly began to crave what they left behind.
A pain shot through his head. He had to find a way to make her stay. The kids needed her. He needed her.
Jack’s pickup sat on the side of the road not far from the first feed bunk. Brock stopped. Squinting at the sun’s glare on the snow, he peered among the huddle of cows eating hay. There wasn’t a sign of Jack anywhere. The sun nearly touched the top of the Steens Mountains. Before long it would disappear behind the mountains, cloaking the valley in darkness.
The hair at the nape of his neck itched. Something wasn’t right. He stepped out of the pickup, grabbing his rifle, flashlight, and a pair of gloves. Reaching out, he felt the hood of the Toyota. Cold.
Pulling on his gloves, he snapped the flashlight onto his belt loop and headed around the cows, looking for footprints in the snow. At the far side, he found a set of human tracks. He whistled for Roscoe and set out following the trail.
Peering back and forth between the footprints and the horizon, he walked for half an hour, fearing for his friend. The tracks appeared labored. Now and then he spotted a drop of blood. Finally, as the golden glow of sunlight faded to a washed out yellow, Roscoe ran ahead of him barking.
Brock jogged in the direction of the noisy dog. Down in a gully, out of the wind, Jack knelt behind a young cow birthing a calf.
“Quiet Roscoe. Stay.” Brock slid down into the gully and grabbed hold of one of the calf’s legs. Together they pulled.
“I hoped someone would come looking for me. We’ve been at this several hours,” Jack said between grunts.
Brock looked at the cow, she wasn’t pushing any more. The calf’s head and body were out. It appeared the hips had hung up.
“We can’t lose him, Jack,” Brock said, thinking of his vulture of a father-in-law.
“I know. The calf seems to be alive, I just can’t…”
“Pull more toward her feet,” Brock said, slanting the calf down away from the cow’s tail. He braced a foot against the cow’s backend. “Ready. One. Two. Three.”
Together they pulled, tugging back and forth, easing the hips out. When the calf slipped to the
ground, the cow gave a half-hearted call.
Dropping to his knees, Brock slapped the calf’s side and slid his finger into its mouth to remove the mucous. When he felt the ribs moving, he dragged the newborn over to the mother’s head. The cow licked and massaged the calf.
Both the mother and offspring had been stressed from the ordeal. When the calf raised his head, Brock was overwhelmed. The miracle unclenched a little of the fear he felt at possibly losing his family’s home.
“I’ll bring them some hay. You go home clean up and get a good night’s sleep.” Brock slapped the man beside him on the back. “Thank you.”
“I know what every calf means to you and your family. When I saw her walking around with the feet sticking out, I figured she was having problems.”
Brock put an arm around Jack’s shoulders. “Let’s get back to the vehicles, so you can get warmed up.”
****
Carina walked back and forth in the kitchen. Darkness settled over the house hours ago and no sign or word from Brock.
“He’s okay,” Maddie said, pushing the green beans around on her plate.
“Then why aren’t you eating?” Having seen the fury on Brock’s face when he left, she wasn’t sure where he went or what he did. Maddie also witnessed the conversation and her father’s angry departure. The child was as nervous and worried as Carina.
“I’m not eating because I’m not really hungry.” Maddie pushed her plate to the middle of the table.
Carina bit her lip. She should have never mentioned Mr. Johnson’s visit. He hadn’t done anything and went away when she told him to.
“May I be excused? I’m going to talk to Rayanne on the computer,” Maddie said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Oh. Yes, go ahead. It will take your mind off your dad.” Carina wiped Tate’s face and lifted him out of the high chair. “I’m going to take Tate up and give him a bath.”
Maddie waved her hand in acknowledgment and disappeared into the office.
Carina looked at the dirty dishes and food sitting on the table. The food had to be stored, but she’d take care of the dishes later. Setting Tate on the floor, she covered the food, stacking it in the refrigerator. When she turned to take Tate for his bath, he was gone.