I Don't Want to be Married

by Sonja Gunter

  Oh, God.

  He owned the land. No, they owned the land.

  She tilted her head and stared at the ceiling. He stole it. Why? If he did it to get back at her for the whole marriage farce, what a wrong move. She didn’t want the land for personal gain. She’d wanted to save the horses from suffering.

  Rosalind set the file aside and opened the next one labeled ‘Marriage.’ Inside she found instructions to his lawyer to add her name to all his assets. The land in Minnesota was to be sold back to her for one dollar, giving her sole rights to the property, if they were to ever get divorced.

  Her tears splattered the papers. She’d believed the worst, but the fact was he’d already given the land to her the day before Sam died.

  “Honey, you’ve been in here all morning and most of the afternoon. You need to eat,” Helen urged. “I’ll be leaving soon, being Friday and all. Do you want me to do anything before I go?”

  Rosalind stared at Helen for a moment, dazed to realize she was still in Allan’s room.

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  “Max came by earlier and I told him you were unavailable,” Helen huffed, her breathing hard. “Sorry, those stairs got the best of me. He said to let him know when you’re ready to work on the sanctuary applications.”

  “Oh right, tell him to come at seven.”

  “He’ll be happy to hear it.” Helen’s footsteps creaked on the stairs.

  The blur of white papers on the floor compelled Rosalind to rub her tired eyes. She’d found out more about her husband in the last few hours than she had in the time he’d been here.

  He was a very caring, forgiving, and considerate man. Not only with her, but also in his work. Everything she’d read inspired her to love him even more. Her fears had been for nothing.

  Pulling a memo with his office phone number on it, she took out her cell phone and tapped in the numbers. The line rang and rang. An afterhours recording came on and she pressed one to leave a message. She left her name and number.

  Next, she tried Allan’s cell phone. It rang once and went directly to voicemail.

  Damn, why wasn’t he or anyone from his office letting her know what was going on?

  Rosalind stood slowly, easing her sore muscles from sitting in the same position too long, and trudged downstairs. She passed the landline phone and saw Helen had left it off the hook. When she entered the kitchen, Helen offered a half-smile.

  “Good timing, the chicken potpie is done. Pull it from the oven, please. I fixed a second one for Max. I’ll cover it with foil. He said seven was too late and he’d come over in a spell.”

  “Thanks, Helen. Was there anything new about Allan on the news?”

  Helen’s eyes began to tear. “No, they keep replaying the same video.” She sniffled. “If there isn’t anything else, I’ll be going now. Should you change your mind and fly to New York, give me a call. Take care, sweetie.”

  Quietly, Helen left the kitchen. Rosalind picked at the potpie and heard the front door open, then Helen’s voice.

  “I’m leaving now. I’ll return Sunday night.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Rosalind yelled.

  Maybe Helen is right, I should go to him.

  Chapter 32

  After a restless night, Rosalind dragged her dog-tired butt out of bed to start her day. She and Max had worked until after midnight, determined to have things in place before the competition in Oklahoma. They’d been able to enlist the help of the local veterinarians to give the questionable horses their exams. Most were thrilled to do the work at no cost once they found out the horses would be saved.

  Eighteen of the twenty-three acceptance letters and emails had been sent. They’d procured the builders and would begin when the weather permitted. By and large, very effective several hours of work.

  She checked her phone. Still no missed calls.

  When would he call? He only had a day to make it back before she left for the BFA World Championship.

  Disgusted, she headed downstairs. Without Helen, the kitchen was dark and void of delicious food smells.

  Rosalind toasted two pieces of bread, spread peanut butter on them, and took a bottle of vitamin water from the refrigerator. She finished the toast on her way to the barn.

  Max had set up the serpentine course. Settling in for her workout, she pushed Dawn and herself through the drill, harder than she had all week.

  “Enough, Rosalind,” Max snapped. He grabbed the reins out of her hands and held Dawn’s bridle.

  “What? I need to do it again, it wasn’t perfect.”

  “If you don’t stop, Dawn won’t have anything left for you in Oklahoma,” Max stated in a hard tone.

  “Leave me alone. I’m doing what I need to do.”

  “No, you’re riding ‘cause you’re mad.”

  She dismounted, took off her hat, and wiped the sweat that, despite the cold, had collected on her forehead. “Sorry, I didn’t realize my emotions were pushing me. What if they keep Allan in jail?”

  “Don’t worry. Mr. Smith can handle his problems. The press always makes things worse than they are.” Max squeezed Rosalind’s shoulder.

  “I’ll walk Dawn,” she offered. “It’ll be nice to have an inside practice area soon.”

  “Yes it will, but I’ll have Joe take Dawn through her cool down. You should head inside before you get sick.”

  Rosalind nodded and headed to the house. He was right, she couldn’t afford even a simple cold right now.

  As she neared the empty house, she decided to drive out to the family cemetery on the north end of the property. She hadn’t been there since Sam’s funeral weeks ago. Rosalind felt ashamed; she’d let her emotions for Allan dominate all her time and hadn’t given Sam the proper respect he deserved.

  The area was nice in the summer with several old oak and pine trees, lined with lilac bushes and a metal fence. Today however, the harsh winter snow and semi-cloudy skies added a dismal effect to the tombstones.

  Someone had shoveled a path which made it easier to reach the graves. Before her lay her parents, Grandpa Rodney, and Sam.

  She stared at the stones. Rosalind’s breath came out in white puffs as she spoke.

  “I’m sorry for not coming sooner. I miss all of you so very much. I have a lot to tell you. Grandpa Rodney, you were wise beyond my understanding about finding someone to marry outside the rodeo circuit. I’m not proud of the way I went about it. Now I find myself loving the man, and I might lose him too.”

  She clasped her hands tight. “You’d have liked him, Grandpa. He has a gentle soul, once you get to know him. He’s a lot like you were. I imagine Sam realized we were meant to be together. And for that, thank you Sam, for making me accept my wrongdoings.”

  She didn’t expect the stones to answer, but hoped for a sign she’d been heard. A gust of wind blew the newly fresh snow in swirls. Rosalind shifted her feet and brushed at the strands of hair on her face.

  “Mom, Dad, I wish you were here to see what I’ve been working on. I’m making your dream come true. I’m opening a horse sanctuary. I named it Heavens Kiss, in honor of you, Mom. I can picture you giving kisses to each of the horses.”

  Rosalind choked back tears threatening to fall. She’d forgotten her gloves on the front seat of the truck and now rubbed her hands together to warm them. The coolness of her wedding ring distracted her and she studied it. The band seemed impersonal, but suddenly sparkled, as the sun peeked through the clouds.

  I did have someone. Not any longer.

  The clouds hid the sun again. The wedding band turned into a simple silver ring. She shoved her hands in her pockets, not wanting to see the reminder.

  “I promise to come by after the competition. Bye.”

  She bowed her head and lumbered away
, more confused than before.

  Why is God taking everyone I’ve loved?

  Her question went unanswered. The dark, empty house loomed before her as she parked the truck. Grumbling sounds erupted from her stomach, reminding her she hadn’t eaten. The house was eerily quiet as she entered. No one called out to her. No clatter came from the kitchen or above.

  The sad realization, that for the first time in her entire life she was completely alone, was a hard-hitting truth.

  I have no one.

  I am really alone.

  The walls and floor creaked and moaned in an odd sort of way. As she stood in the front hallway, Rosalind took in the room.

  Today the colors seemed less bright, even a little dull in the fading sunlight. The same, yet different.

  The old furniture appeared worn. Sam had called it comfy. She’d simply ignored it.

  The hallway and living room walls cried out for a fresh coat of paint years ago. No one heard them; nevertheless, she heeded them now for the first time.

  What must’ve Allan thought, coming into this house? No wonder he accused her of trying to blackmail him.

  Her discarded winter gear lay on the floor as she took hesitant steps to the living room. The Christmas tree stuck out like a sore thumb without any gifts under it. It too seemed out of place. Not off center, but as if it didn’t belong. Usually by this time colorful presents would’ve filled the floor beneath the tree branches. Sam and the guys always spoiled her. With Christmas two weeks away, she hadn’t purchased a single gift.

  Studying the tree, she viewed it as if seeing it for the first time. She scrutinized the whole picture.

  Nothing. Zilch. The ornaments held no memories of her father or mother, only of her grandfather and Sam. Simply things they’d done to create a sense of family. A false illusion. It never replaced or fulfilled the love she never knew she’d craved, until meeting Allan.

  Why hadn’t she seen this before?

  For years, Grandpa Rodney had created a deception of family for her. Everything represented tradition with no real meaning behind it. Sam had followed suit, probably thinking the ornaments and stuff meant something to her. She couldn’t, didn’t blame him or her grandfather. They’d done the best they could for her.

  Allan’s face materialized along with the memory of his kisses and his body pressed against hers as she’d decorated the tree. He was her family now.

  Would she have him for long? Or had she lost him, too?

  The furnace hissed, sputtering out heat. Emptiness once again flushed over her. She didn’t like it. She shivered and shook off an ominous feeling. Instead of continuing through the other rooms and their disillusions, she went to the kitchen.

  Numerous memories of her and Allan in the hallway and kitchen surfaced. A smile came easily to her face as she fingered the butter knife. He’d pushed her that day. Not because of what he did or said, but because he’d made her feel things she hadn’t wanted to.

  Coffee. I need caffeine.

  Rosalind scooped two tablespoons of grounds into a glass coffeepot and filled it with water. Grandpa Rodney had introduced her to the old-fashioned way of making coffee. It was strong, the way she’d learned to drink it. She beamed as she remembered when Allan had first tasted it.

  Once the coffee was brewing, she searched for anything to show her she wasn’t alone. Roaming from room to room, she ended up in Allan’s.

  All the papers she’d thrown around the night before, she now straightened. She lifted his pillow to her face and breathed in deeply. She tried to hold onto the scent, never wanting to forget it.

  She needed to know the truth. And the words had to come from him.

  She’d leapt to conclusions, believing the worst of her husband. Helen was right. She should go to him. Show her support and let the media see her on his side.

  “Rosalind.”

  She spun around and the pillow fell to the floor.

  “Allan . . .”

  Her breath caught in her throat. No other words came, now that he stood before her. He looked like hell, though his unshaven face boasted a sexy ruggedness. Gone was his stuffy business suit, replaced by a down jacket, a flannel shirt, and jeans.

  “Rosalind, I’m sorry . . .”

  It was all she needed to hear, and she rushed into his arms. Their lips met in a hungry kiss. She cupped his face, enjoying the roughness of his whiskers, and stared at him.

  “You aren’t a figment of my imagination, are you?”

  “I’m real,” he replied.

  “How did you—they released you?”

  “Yes. Let’s savor the moment a bit longer.” Allan hugged her.

  She returned his embrace eagerly. “I can’t believe it. The news made it sound so—I don’t know. I was about to book a plane ticket.”

  Allan removed her hands and held them in his. “Shhh, I’m so sorry for everything. Well, not everything.” His lips formed an ironic smile. “Number one, I’m not sorry we’re married. Second, I’m not apologizing for making love to you.”

  With his affirmation Allan kissed her again. She didn’t need to listen to any more, and kissed him hungrily.

  When they surfaced for air, he led her to the bed.

  “Sit down. I need to explain some things.”

  Rosalind gripped the side of the mattress, readying herself for the worst.

  “You have every right to get mad at me, maybe even hate me, but I’m hoping—no, I’m praying you’ll forgive me,” Allan began.

  “I know about—”

  “No, hear me out. I am the owner of the land you—we’re using for the sanctuary. I was so angry when I got here, all I wanted to do was ruin your life, make you miserable. When Sam showed me the horses you were trying to save, I felt like a schmuck. I had to backpedal to make things right. I misled you into thinking I could help you, wanting you to believe I was a hero. Your hero. I’m sorry everything got out of hand. The bigger the lie became, the deeper I dug myself into a hole.”

  She shook her head slowly. “You made me look like a fool.”

  “I regret that too. I’m appalled by my actions. Every day I wanted to tell you the truth. I even had Tiffany—my secretary issue a buyout plan from the Portfolio Management Company.”

  “Allan, I began to trust you.” Rosalind’s voice came out in a soft tone. She eyed him as he paced from one side of the room to the other.

  He combed his hand through his hair. “The reason I left abruptly when I did was because the Feds served a subpoena. They arrested me because I refused to grant them access to my company’s files, computers, and our list of clients.”

  “Did you do anything illegal?”

  He stopped his pacing. “No, let me start at the beginning. The reason I was in Las Vegas, as you know, was for my friend John’s wedding. I’ve known him for a very long time. Apparently, last year when he came to visit me at my office, he overheard a discussion about the Heinz Corporation. He’d used confidential information to buy and sell the stock.”

  “And that’s wrong because why?”

  “There’s more, according to the Feds. Allegedly several transactions were made dealing with the Heinz Corporation from inside my company. It’s the law you can’t personally gain money when you are involved in corporate legal buyouts. They were asserting John and I benefited from these dealings. Insider trader. Martha Stewart. Does this make sense?”

  Rosalind’s forehead wrinkled. “Somebody who heard something gave that information to someone else. Then that someone else profited from that information. It’s like a who’s on first riddle.”

  “Yes, it’s close to what happened. My lawyers have assured me neither I nor my company, Smith and Associates Firm, could be implicated. I however, would have to give the Feds access to the computers, c
lients, and employees to prove John, myself or my firm did not profit from the illegal trades based on nonpublic information. Most of my money is frozen by the Feds. To post the five-million dollar bail, I used your ranch as collateral for part and my lawyers made arrangements for the balance.”

  Rosalind stayed on the edge of the mattress, stone-faced.

  Could she believe him?

  “I was released at two-thirty this morning once the bail was paid. I went straight to my plane. I’d put my pilot on a minute’s notice.” Allan stood at the foot of the bed.

  Rosalind didn’t know what to say.

  “I didn’t waste any time. I came straight back to you.” Suddenly he was kneeling in front of her. He clasped her hands as she raised her head and peered into his eyes.

  “Rosalind, I love you. I think—no, I now know you were extraordinary when I saw you at the rodeo in Las Vegas. I want to stay married. If you’ll have me.”

  Her eyes widened when he held out a light blue box with a signature white ribbon.

  This kind of stuff only happens in movies or in books. Am I daydreaming?

  She closed and rubbed her sleep-deprived eyes.

  A drop dead gorgeous man on one knee declaring his love to a woman—to me.

  When she opened them, Allan was still in front of her holding out the box. Not able to say a word because she couldn’t think of anything to say, she took the box with Tiffany & Co. printed on the top.

  She lifted the lid and another box greeted her. This one was black velvet. Her hands trembled for the first time in her life, as she flipped the lid open and gasped.

  A diamond ring. The gem was the size of Texas. It could’ve won first place in a bull show. Allan was crazy.

  “If it’s not big enough we can go shopping for another one once the Feds release my money. I had to have Paul front me the money for this one.”