Chapter 21
The next couple of days with her mother were the best they ever spent together, at least as far as Cecily could remember. They butted heads, but gently and affectionately. Cecily hoped it would last and be the new order of things, but she had twenty years of experience to make her wary. Still, she was sad to see her mother go, if only for the excuse it provided her to be away from the Henshaw house. She and Marcus had dined at the ranch with her mother for the past two nights, and it was heavenly to have a break from the constant stress.
After her mother left the tension at the Henshaw’s notched up to a fever pitch, and it was starting to take a toll on Cecily. She threw herself into her ranch with more fervor and fell into bed exhausted each night. Marcus noticed and complained.
“Lee, you’re pushing yourself too hard.”
“No harder than you push yourself,” she returned. His busyness was becoming a source of contention between them, as were her frequent trips to her ranch. “If you worked on Wall Street people would call you a workaholic, but because you own the ranch they say you’re dedicated.”
They glared at each other in a tense standoff. Part of the problem was the fact that they were too tired even for anything more than a hurried goodnight kiss lately, and the physical distance was making them irritable.
“We’ve been married six weeks and you’re already too tired to be with me,” he said.
“And you’re already too busy to be with me,” she said.
They went to bed angry for the first time in their short marriage, but she couldn’t sleep. He was out like a light, which notched up her anger until it turned to hurt. Finally her pathetic weeping woke him and they spent a long time making up.
But other factors were wearing on their relationship, too, namely his mother. Her insults and barbs to Cecily were getting more frequent and more pointed. Most of them concerned Libby Dobbins.
“Libby stopped by,” she said one day. “They have an abundance of peaches this year and she baked us a pie. I’m sure she remembers that’s Marcus’s favorite. She was always baking him things. He likes a girl who can bake. Most men do.”
Marcus made it worse later that night by his headlong reaction to the pie.
“Mom, you outdid yourself,” he said. “This is the best pie I’ve ever had. You know how much I love peach.”
Lydia smiled gleefully. “I didn’t make it. Libby did. She brought it over today. Such a sweet girl, isn’t she? You two were happy together.”
His hand froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Not as happy as she and Dobbie are together,” he said.
Cecily frowned. What was that in his tone? Regret? Jealousy?
Exasperation would be a more apt term, but she didn’t know because Marcus didn’t tell her. He had no idea his mother held Libby over Cecily’s head on an almost daily basis, but he did wonder why she wouldn’t let the past lie. He and Libby hadn’t dated for years now, and they were both married to other people.
But to Cecily, who was already sensitized to any mention of his former girlfriend, his silence and frown looked like sadness over the one who got away. She didn’t point out that she was also an excellent baker. There was no need. She swore she would never make a peach pie again as long as she lived. In fact, she had no appetite for one now.
“Excuse me,” she murmured, and then set aside her fork and pushed back from the table.
“I guess I’ll do the dishes alone. Again,” Lydia said.
Her husband frowned at her. He had heard Cecily offer to help her every night since her arrival, but Marcus hadn’t. Strangely his wife waited to rebuff Cecily’s offers of help until Marcus was out of earshot. He shook his head. He would never understand women. He was glad he’d had sons.
Marcus was frowning, too. He wondered why Cecily didn’t offer to help. He hated to think of his poor mother doing all the domestic work herself, especially when Cecily was adding more work simply by being an extra mouth to feed, launder, and clean up after.
When he reached the bedroom and found Cecily lying down asleep his anger boiled over.
“Cecily, this is ridiculous. It’s not even seven at night.”
She jumped awake and lay still as a wave of dizziness assaulted her. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she murmured. She had only closed her eyes for a minute, or so she thought.
He came to sit at the edge of the bed. “You’re working too hard if you fall asleep like this and steal away to our room without even offering to help clean up.” He frowned. He had always imagined whoever he married helping in the kitchen with his mother. The fact that Cecily didn’t was a disappointment to him.
She sat up slowly and her mouth opened. “You have got to be kidding me.”
He frowned. “No, I’m not.”
She rolled her eyes. “I have offered to help until I’m blue in the face. She won’t let me.”
His frown deepened. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t she want help? She just said she did. I’m sure she gets tired of doing all the work herself.”
Her eyes filled with tears. That tugged at his heart, but he was too angry to be dissuaded from his purpose. “Why do you think? She wants to make me look bad in your eyes.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Cecily, that’s ridiculous. You’re making her sound as cold-blooded as Hitler.”
“You always take her side,” Cecily said. She dashed at her tears. “You don’t see what she’s doing to me, to us.”
“What? What is she doing to us? We’re still married, still together. That hasn’t changed, and it won’t.” Despite his anger he needed to be clear on that point.
Her tears spilled over and ran unchecked down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure why she was crying so violently, she just was. He started to soften toward her until she continued.
“People aren’t meant to live with their parents this way,” she said. “Don’t you get it? It’s her house. I have nothing of my own here. I’m an intruder, and she makes sure I know it at every turn. And you do nothing to back me up. You won’t listen to me. You refuse to see how she’s treating me.”
Some of her words resonated as truth, and that made him angry. He wasn’t ready to admit defeat where his parents were concerned. They needed him now to see them through Mathew’s loss.
“What I see is her feeding you, cooking for you, cleaning up after you, and doing your laundry. All without any help on your part while you nap and pout like a little girl.”
He went too far and he knew it when her eyes grew round and wounded, but his pride wouldn’t let him take anything back.
“I guess you would see it that way,” she said listlessly. She gathered her clothes and went into the bathroom to take a long shower. When she exited the bathroom he was outside. She crawled into bed, too hurt and too tired to do anything but fall asleep.
The Cowgirl Who Loved Horses, Queens of Montana Bonus Book Page 22