by Rachel Lee
She almost wanted to hit her head on the window glass beside her, to try to stir up some new thought. But new thoughts proved elusive, and she seemed to be pretty much stuck in an endless loop of guilt, grief and anger with no way out.
Throughout the drive to the hospital, Linc remained silent. She wondered if he was disturbed by her reaction, or angry that he had to make this trip in the middle of the night. Even though he had suggested it, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d felt he had no choice, given the way she was taking this.
Or maybe he was angry that she hadn’t taken this news better and gone ahead with making love to him. Most of the men she had dated—a small enough sample set to be sure—would have been angry about that.
She couldn’t ask him, though. Facing her own cowardice, she realized she was afraid of what he might say. What if he thought she was weird, or overreacting, or just a plain nuisance? He wouldn’t be the first.
Linc made good time to the hospital. She hadn’t noticed that he had driven any faster, but maybe the trip was starting to seem shorter as she got used to it.
As always, he came around to help her out, a gentlemanly courtesy she had thought long dead.
“It’ll be okay,” he said quietly. “We’re going to do something about this, and most people are going to be very upset if they hear about this.”
He was probably right. She was sure he was right. But the family’s privacy had to be honored as well.
Her nerves tightened as they walked to the waiting room, where an attendant had told them James’s family was waiting. Apparently he was not far enough out of the woods that his family was ready to go home.
As the one who may have started this ball rolling with her intervention last week, Cassie wondered what kind of reception she would receive. She wouldn’t be able to argue with them if they blamed her, despite what James’s grandmother had said.
James’s parents, Maureen and Jack Carney, were alone in the waiting room. They held hands, and while Jack appeared angry, Maureen looked more frightened.
Linc made the introductions—he really did seem to know everyone. Cassie gathered her courage and asked how James was, hoping she didn’t hear...as if you care.
“Unconscious,” Jack Carney said. He was a slender man who, unlike many of the people in these parts, didn’t look as if he spent a lot of time outdoors. “He’s alive, but if he doesn’t wake up soon they may have to transport him for additional testing for brain damage.”
Cassie’s legs turned to water. From what Linc had said of Les’s call, she had assumed he was awake. Physically fine, if not emotionally or psychologically. Not facing possible brain damage. She nearly collapsed into one of the plastic chairs. “Oh, no,” she said weakly.
“It’s bad,” Jack said. “It’s bad. But we’re hoping.”
“I am so, so sorry.”
Linc slowly sat beside her. “Les made it sound as if James was okay now.”
“Okay?” Jack spoke bitterly. “He’ll never be okay. He’s been bullied everywhere he’s ever gone to school. I don’t know why. Do you know why?”
Cassie had to shake her head. “He struck me as a bright and very nice young man.”
“Who knows why bullies pick their victims,” Linc said. “I noticed James was quieter than most, but up until just recently, I hadn’t thought of him as withdrawn. Just quiet.”
“Of course he was quiet,” Jack said. “He’s been trying to be invisible for years.”
Cassie twisted her hands together, torn between sorrow at what that statement revealed, and anger that James’s peers had made him feel that way.
“I should have homeschooled him,” Maureen said, her voice raw. “I should have taught him myself and kept him away from all that.”
“You had a job,” Jack said. He lowered his head, his voice growing heavy. “I had no idea it was this bad. He didn’t talk about it. Sometimes the only way we found out was when teachers alerted us.”
Maureen looked at him. “Remember third grade? We didn’t know anything was wrong. I’ll never understand why the teacher didn’t mention the bullying until the end of the year. I’d have taken him out of school then if I’d had any idea. Why didn’t James tell us?” She ended on a rising note, then quickly put her face in her hands.
In the midst of her own guilt, Cassie felt Maureen’s pain like an added spear to her heart. She rose and went to sit by Maureen. She put her hand gently on the woman’s shoulder and tried to find suitable words.
“When they’re little, kids often don’t tell us things because they think we know already. They endow parents with a kind of omniscience, maybe because they’ve been caught out so many times when they were being secretive. I don’t know, I’m not a psychologist. I just know that it’s true. And then when they get older... Mrs. Carney, it’s even harder when they get older because there’s a tendency to assume responsibility when someone hurts us. All too often we think we must be at fault, and we feel ashamed.”
Maureen nodded, but Cassie had no idea if she were really hearing. Probably not. There was too much pain, worry and fear right now.
If she, a teacher who barely knew James and saw him only in class for fifty-five minutes a day, felt guilty about this, she didn’t even want to imagine how Maureen and Jack must be feeling. As if she could have. The chasm of horror these parents must have felt exceeded anything in her personal experience.
“I was bullied, too,” she said finally, hoping to ease Maureen’s mind. “I didn’t tell anyone. Not a soul.”
Now Maureen turned her head. “Really?”
“Really. It’s even hard for me to admit it now. And some bullying...well, it’s hard to be sure it’s bullying. It has a negative impact, but you’re just not sure that person was being intentionally mean, or that you didn’t misunderstand. Then there’s exclusion. A lot of people don’t realize, for example, that selecting students and then telling them to pick a team for some kind of competition, whether it’s a race or a spelling bee, can be painfully exclusionary. Believe me, I was always the last person picked for a team when there was a race.”
“So you’re saying it wasn’t that he didn’t trust us.”
That put Cassie on the spot. She didn’t know whether James trusted his parents or not. She had no idea of their family dynamics. “Trust,” she said finally, “was probably the smallest part of this. It’s so hard for youngsters to figure out what’s acceptable, what other people know, and whether they deserve something. By the time they get old enough to start sorting through it, it’s become a natural part of their lives, miserable as it is.”
Maureen nodded. Then she tugged from her husband’s grasp and put her face in her hands. “Please,” she whispered. “Please let my baby be okay.”
It was a long night. Linc went out and returned with some halfway decent coffee for the Carneys. No one spoke much as they waited for news. As the night waned, though, there was no mistaking the rising level of fear in the Carneys.
And in herself, Cassie admitted. If James didn’t come through this, she didn’t know how she could ever live with herself.
Sitting there with two people who were plumbing the full depths of hell, she was quite sure they would find it harder, if not impossible. Their tension filled the room like a living, breathing beast.
Finally, just before dawn, a smiling doctor appeared. “James is awake and he seems to be just fine. He’s asking for you.”
Maureen burst into tears and hugged her husband. Then they jumped up to hurry to their son’s side.
But they nearly broke Cassie’s heart when they stopped just long enough to thank her and Linc for keeping vigil with them.
She and Linc walked back to his truck. Cassie knew relief lightened her step and probably Linc’s as well.
“I’m gonna take you up on that couch,” he said as he put the truck in gear. “We need sleep. We can go back out to the ranch later.”
The faint lightening of the day showed Cassie her disabled ca
r again, but Beau had scraped the ugly word off her back window. She was glad not to see it.
Inside, though, when Linc started to turn toward the living room, she took his hand and guided him to her bedroom in back. “You’ll sleep better in a bed,” she said.
Barely pausing to doff jackets and shoes, they tumbled onto the mattress. For long moments Cassie stared at the ceiling, wondering if anything would ever look the same again, but she was just too tired to evaluate anything. Then Linc rolled over and drew her snugly into his arms. With a sigh, she relaxed against him.
“Sleep,” he said. “Everything else can wait a couple of hours.”
* * *
Her eyes fluttered open to the sound of wind keening. Linc was spooned close behind her, an arm around her waist, and she saw the curtained window. God, his embrace felt good. Before she had time to really enjoy it, or wake enough to wonder why the wind was so loud, he spoke.
“That doesn’t sound good,” he murmured near her ear. “Let me go find out what the weather is.”
At that instant, his cell phone rang. He climbed out of bed, pawed in his pockets and pulled out the phone. “Linc Blair.” Then he said, “You’re kidding. All right. Thanks, Les.”
Cassie snapped upright. “Is James okay?”
“It wasn’t about James.” He stuffed his phone in the pocket of the jeans he still wore. “You’re going to get your wish.”
He went over to her bedroom window and drew back the curtains. All Cassie could see was whirling white. She leapt up and went to stand beside him. “Snow? Really?”
“Blizzard. The game’s been canceled. They’re telling everyone to get home and stay home.”
Cassie almost clapped her hands in delight. “I love it!”
Linc gave her a smile. “I’m sure you do. It’s early for this kind of thing, though. So, my only question to you is, do you want to head out to my place or enjoy your first blizzard from the safety of town?”
“Will it be safe enough out on the roads?”
“For a while. It’s going to get worse, but it just started.”
She considered. “I like it at the ranch. I’ll bet it’s beautiful when it snows.”
“Well, come with me, then. I have to go take care of my stock.”
Of course he did. She felt almost embarrassed not to have realized he was going to have to look after animals in a storm like this. “I’ll help,” she announced. “Just let me make a quick change, if we have time.”
“I’ll make some coffee while you do. Then we’re off. It may be a little hair-raising to someone who’s not used to it, but the roads will be okay for a while. We’re going to get twelve or more inches, though, so if you come you’re stuck until we get plowed out. You might want to pack some additional things.”
Being stuck with him sounded very good indeed. “I’ll hurry.”
Okay, he’d lost it. Well and truly lost it. Linc couldn’t deny it. He’d had the perfect excuse a short while ago to leave Cassie at home and return to the ranch alone. He could have claimed she would be safer or more comfortable in town. From what he’d learned of her over the last week, he was sure she wouldn’t have argued with him. And she would be safe for the duration of the blizzard. Even the person who had vandalized her car couldn’t be crazy enough to pull something in this weather.
But no, he’d offered her a chance to come to the ranch, where they’d surely be snowed in, and he knew where that was going to lead. Last night hadn’t eased the ache one bit, but had instead magnified it. It was sitting in his groin like an irritation, and at the back of his mind like a constant unanswered question.
Reminding himself of Martha wasn’t helping at all, either. Cassie wasn’t Martha, and while she hadn’t put any roots down here yet, and she had even mentioned leaving, some part of him had given in to the hope that she would stay. In short, he had stepped off the dangerous cliff without even really noticing.
That made him stupid, he supposed, but it seemed self-evident now that he was willing to run that risk again because he wanted Cassie. He liked Cassie. Day by day she was worming into his life and his heart and he rather liked her there.
The question had changed. Maybe he was rationalizing his own foolishness, but he was now thinking that he owed it to himself to give this a chance.
It was hard, though, not to know if she felt the same. He knew she wanted him, but did she want any more than sex? It was too soon to ask, if he ever could.
It was sure as hell too late now, he thought. One way or another, this thing between them was going to play out unless she skipped town right after the blizzard, and even by then he might have more of his emotions hanging in the breeze than he would have liked.
Hell, he thought. He’d been fighting his attraction to her since she first appeared on his horizon. He’d never had a chance, he supposed. Not against a need this strong. Well, he’d had a chance, but only back when he was keeping her at a distance. From the minute circumstances pushed them together, this had become inevitable.
Just enjoy the weekend, he told himself. Just enjoy it and then deal with the aftermath. He’d survived it once before, so he could do it again. But whatever the cost, some part of him refused to relinquish the hope, and the experience, of Cassie.
Visibility was bad, though not a whiteout, but the snow hadn’t begun to stick on the roads. In the deeper grasses across the fields, grasses that cooled down faster, it had begun to cling, frosting plants in little puffs of white.
“It’s beautiful,” Cassie said. “It’s been so long since I saw snow I’d forgotten. It’s started to look as if the world is flocked in white.”
“It’ll be really gorgeous when the storm passes and the sun comes out. Do you remember all the colors you can see in snow?”
“Prism effect. Barely. I do remember once, though, when I was still living up north, when I realized the snow wasn’t white. It amazed me how long I’d spent just glancing at it and thinking it was white, but when I paid attention I saw it sparkled with so many different colors.”
“Perception is an amazing thing.” It was also a safe topic. “I sometimes wonder how much we miss seeing simply because we box and label things in our minds.”
“Probably plenty,” she agreed.
Right now, though, they were driving in a white-and-gray cocoon. Even his headlights didn’t make it sparkle.
“So this is unusual weather?”
“Believe it. I’m not going to say we’ve never had a blizzard this early in the winter, but they’re rare. And to get so much snowfall at once is rare, too. We’re in the rain shadow of the mountains, and they wring most of the moisture out of the air before it reaches us.”
“Usually,” she said.
He laughed. “Yeah, usually.”
By the time they reached his house, the storm had really moved in. The wind was whipping the snow hard enough to sting the cheeks, and blowing it in curtains that occasionally parted to give a glimpse of the leaden sky.
As he turned from pulling Cassie’s small bag from the truck, he saw her standing with her head tipped back and her tongue out as if she were trying to catch a snowflake. Except these weren’t flakes as much as they were ice crystals.
She laughed, a sound that tugged at his heart, then lowered her head and grinned at him. “This is fun.”
It struck him then just how different she really was from Martha. Newcomer? Yes. Could possibly decide to leave? Yes. But Martha wouldn’t have been enjoying this storm at all. She’d have been griping about all the things she wanted to be doing instead.
Not for the first time in the last two years he wondered how he could have been so blinded by Martha. If he rolled back the movie of his time with her, her demanding nature popped up over and over again. And he’d been too besotted to realize it. The warning signs had been everywhere, that she wouldn’t be content to build a life with a teacher and live on a ranch in the middle of nowhere.
Not for the first time he felt a suspicion that s
he had seen the ranch as a potential cash cow if he would just sell it and move to a life in a faster lane elsewhere. Hell, it had finally become the bottom line to their relationship, the one that ended it.
She certainly never would have claimed standing out here in the wildly blowing snow was fun. No, she’d have been complaining about the cold, the wind, the way the ice crystals stung. She’d have raced inside to get away from it, then moaned how boring it all was.
Boring was a word that should have clued him in. Martha had used the word often. He was never bored, and really couldn’t grasp people who complained of boredom. There was always something to do, he didn’t need to be entertained. Nor did Cassie seem to need constant amusement, either. Admittedly, he hadn’t been close with her for long, but her reaction to the storm was proving to be a brightly lighted line of demarcation between her and Martha.
Inside, she continued to smile as she rubbed her hands together to warm them. “What do we need to do with the animals?”
“You don’t have to help.” Martha had sought every opportunity to avoid pitching in.
“I want to. So what do we need to do?”
“Round them in close. The dogs will do most of the work, but I’ve built windbreaks with hay they can huddle behind. I need to make sure they’re in the right place and can’t wander too far. I still need to do their morning feeding, too.”
“So they eat more than grass?”
“They’re grazers, yes, but they get supplemental food to make up for any nutritional deficiencies, and right now there’s not a whole lot of fresh stuff to graze. The horse stalls will need cleaning as well.”
“Let’s go, then.”
“How about a hot drink first? You haven’t eaten, either.”
“I’m fine. Don’t the animals come first?”
Of course they did, but he was concerned about her, too. On the other hand, it was refreshing that she understood the priorities.
Maybe this mistake wouldn’t turn out to be as bad as he had feared.
* * *
The dogs made rounding up the sheep and goats easy, Cassie realized. With a few whistles and a couple of commands, they began to push the animals toward the rows of hay that Cassie hadn’t really paid attention to before.