Cowgirl

by Nance Sparks

“Wait a minute. Doc, Wyatt…you’re not a Tombstone fan, are you?”

  “Oh, just you wait until you get to meet big nosed Kate!” Aren laughed and walked back toward the tethered gelding.

  Carol watched Aren duck through the fencing. Her heart was still pounding in her chest. It was probably best that they hadn’t kissed, but those lips were almost too much to resist. Carol had no business getting involved with anyone. She had no job, no home. She was grieving for her aunt and uncle, reeling from the way they died, and dealing with a broken leg. She was dependent on the kindness of a stranger so she could have a roof over her head.

  She watched Aren work with the horse. Her shoulders were broad, her arms lean muscle from long days of physical labor, her waist was trim, and she had to admit that Aren had a nice ass. Aren stopped driving the horse in wide circles. She lowered her arms and turned her back on him. Doc slowed to a walk, approaching Aren from behind. He stood still, directly behind her nuzzling her shoulder ever so slightly. It was fascinating to watch. Aren turned to face him, embracing his large head, and at that moment, Carol wished she were that horse, cradled so tenderly in Aren’s arms.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dark shadows emerged from all sides. Aren could hear people calling for her, calling to her, telling her to run but begging her for help.

  “Mom, Mom is that you? Is it really you?” Aren’s voice sounded so far away. “Mom, look out! He’s behind you! Run!”

  Jennifer’s face emerged from the shadows. She was so pale and sickly. Her once brilliant green eyes were now dark, sunken and haunted. She was pointing out into the fields. Ron was on the ground, face down, motionless. Phyllis was standing behind Jen screaming, her words unrecognizable. Aren reached for Jen, and she turned to run but her feet were so heavy. She couldn’t move. She was trapped.

  “Aren, Aren, wake up. Aren, are you okay?” Carol’s voice pulled her from the shadows.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you okay? What are you doing up?” Aren rubbed her eyes.

  “My leg was hurting. I had to take a pain pill.” Carol looked at Aren, a concerned expression on her face. “You were screaming. Did you have a nightmare?”

  “Yeah, a bad dream, nothing new.” Aren stood and stretched her back. “Want a cup of coffee?”

  Aren made her way into the bathroom. She washed her face, hoping to shake the dream. It had been four years and she still struggled with the reflection of herself in the mirror. Her cloudy eye, the scars, the person in the mirror wasn’t what she saw when she closed her eyes and pictured herself in her mind. She wondered if she’d ever accept the face staring back at her. Coffee. She needed coffee.

  Aren walked into the kitchen and turned on the light above the sink. She made coffee using the percolator, her mind far away.

  “Are you staying up? You’re not going to try to go back to sleep?” Carol asked.

  “No point in trying to go back to sleep so I might as well get the day started.”

  “But it’s only three o’clock in the morning. You can’t make it on just a few hours’ sleep.”

  Aren sighed. “Carol, it’s like this most every night and somehow I always manage to make it through the day. I never sleep very long. You just haven’t been awake any of the other mornings.”

  “What did you dream about? And please don’t ask me if we can talk about it some other time, because some other time never seems to come.” Carol sat down at the table.

  Aren looked up from lighting the stove. “It was just a bad dream, no big deal.”

  “You have them often, don’t you? Bad dreams, I mean,” Carol said.

  “Need distracting, do you?” Aren set the pot on top of the burner.

  Aren walked over and sat across from Carol. She fidgeted with the spent matchstick still in her hands. For some reason, she couldn’t meet Carol’s gaze. It wasn’t shame she felt, but perhaps fear. What would Carol think of her if she answered any of these questions with even a bit of the truth? She’d realized over the past week that she enjoyed having Carol in the loft. She was enjoying the conversations they shared and the amazing friendship that was building by the minute. She hadn’t realized how lonely she’d become until she had someone sharing her life, and she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. The sad part was that Aren wanted to talk about all of it but figured there just wasn’t any point in doing so. She wanted to let it out so she could let it go. She’d checked so many books out on the topic and knew she needed to release it before she could heal. Wyatt was a great listener, Bailey too, but neither offered much in the way of advice or feedback. The thought brought a grin to Aren’s face.

  “What are you smiling about?” Carol asked. “Did I miss a good joke?”

  Aren leaned back in her chair. Maybe she needed to give it a try. “I’ve been alone on this land for over four years, Carol. You’re the first visitor I’ve had. To be quite honest,” she paused a bit before continuing. “Well, the truth is, I don’t have any friends. The people in town don’t think much of me, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I’m the freak out on Thompson Road that lives on the cursed Harris farm. I don’t drive a car and yet I have a small road atlas carved into my face. The thing people forget is that I’m partially blind, not deaf. I know what they say about me. I’ve heard the murmurs. I’ve seen the finger pointing. I’ve seen the look on people’s faces when I walk into a store. They all think they know, but they don’t know. They don’t have a clue.” Aren felt the matchstick snap in her fingers. She set the pieces on the table. “All I’m sayin’ is that it’s weird having someone sitting at my table asking me sincere questions about my dreams. It’s been a really long time since I’ve talked to anyone like you want me to talk to you.” Aren pushed at the broken matchstick pieces with her finger.

  “That’s what friends do. They talk about things. They talk about funny things and serious things and difficult things. Don’t you want a friend?” Carol reached for Aren’s hand.

  Aren got up from the table and walked around the room. She stopped at the open loft door and looked out into the darkness. The room was comfortably warm, yet she suddenly felt chilled. She wrapped her arms around herself and drew in a deep breath. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

  “I miss it, ya know, friendship. As much as I’ve told myself over the years that I hate people, that I’m better off alone, I do miss it.” She finally managed to push some words out.

  “Then let me be there for you. Let me in. Let me be your friend.”

  “Why? What’s the point? The funeral’s coming up. Then, in a few weeks, you’ll get your walking cast. I imagine you have a life you want to get back to. So, I ask you, Carol, what’s the point? What’s the point of sharing all this stuff? What’s the point of opening all these old wounds? You talk about friendship, but you won’t be here to be my friend. You’ll be off somewhere living your life and I’ll be here, alone, trying to stuff everything back inside.”

  “I’m sorry, Aren. I never saw it from that perspective.” Carol sat silent for a minute. “Maybe we can use this time to help each other heal. How about I start with some unedited honesty?” Carol rubbed her face with her hands, “I’m lost, at a crossroads. You see, I don’t have a life to get back to and I don’t even know where to go from here.”

  Her voice was barely a whisper, but Aren heard every single word loud and clear. She stood still, looking out the loft door into the darkness.

  “I have a few friends from high school, from college, and I have no doubt that they’d help if I asked, but they’ve all moved on with their own lives. They’ve all scattered to different corners of the country, starting their next chapter, starting new jobs, some have started families.” Carol’s voice was stronger again.

  “So, you don’t have anyone special waiting for you? No one to return to? No home?” Aren turned to face Carol. Maybe Carol wouldn’t leave so soon after all.

  “I hadn’t planned anything beyond visiting my aunt and uncle. As soon as I graduated I gave up the
apartment I was renting. For years I’ve known exactly what I want to do with my life, but the problem is that I don’t know where I want to do it. My parents are gone, now my aunt and uncle are gone. I’m in this lost limbo. Where do I go? Where do I settle down and create my life?”

  “What about Pennsylvania? Don’t you have a life there? I overheard you talking on the phone yesterday afternoon. I was working in the garden. I took Bailey for a walk in the woods to give you some privacy. I wasn’t eavesdropping, I promise.” Aren returned to the table. She sat down in the chair next to Carol.

  “Ah, Pennsylvania. Yes, I called for a status on a job application. I had applied for a position in a small community library outside of Philly right before I’d left campus. A friend from college thought it would be so great if we could work together, but I don’t live there, I don’t have roots there. Besides, the role has already been filled. I just thought if I could find a direction to head toward, something to shoot for, that I’d have a goal, an end game. I guess you could say I was looking for a sign. Aren, I feel like such a burden. I’ve completely invaded your space. I know that I need a job, but I can’t even drive my car right now to get back and forth to work. I’ve looked for an apartment in town, but without a job… It’s just that you’ve been so kind and I don’t want to take advantage.” Carol buried her face in her hands, “You missed an epic meltdown after that call. Everything that’s been bottled up inside exploded. Emotions erupted everywhere. I cried, I got angry, I screamed, I threw my crutches down the main aisle and then had to crawl across the floor to go get them. It was quite the pathetic scene.”

  Aren felt bad that she hadn’t been there for Carol after the call. Taking off for the serenity of the woods wasn’t to offer Carol privacy. Aren had walked away because she was hurt. She thought Carol was leaving the state. She was reminded that the friendship that was building, the companionship, was just temporary, that she’d lose it. Now, she felt guilty for being so selfish.

  “Maybe that was the sign, the job being filled. Maybe you should stay and start your life here.” Aren looked up from the small piece of matchstick she’d been rolling between her fingers.

  “Could I live here, in this town, with all of the bad memories?” Carol’s eyes asked the question as much as her words, her eyebrows raising expectantly.

  “Are there good memories? Are there enough good memories to outweigh the bad? Wouldn’t it be nice to stay somewhere where you’re surrounded with good memories?”

  “Is that why you bought this farm? Are you surrounded with good memories here?”

  “My situation is different.” Aren’s jaw muscles tightened up.

  “How so? Talk to me. Please tell me something.”

  “I will. I’m doing my best.” Aren couldn’t look up. She focused on the matchstick.

  “How about something simple? Why do you live in the barn and not the house?” Carol’s voice was soft and tender, like a delicate touch.

  “There’s nothing simple about that question. I’m not ready to talk about the house.” Aren sat back and tried to keep her voice steady.

  “The barn then, do you have good memories in the barn?” The look on Carol’s face, the expression in her eyes, seemed to be pleading for an answer.

  Yes, the barn was a source of many good memories, but that wasn’t why she didn’t live in the house. The house, that night, it was all still so vivid in her mind even after four years. The barn had always been her safe place. Maybe that would be a good place to start.

  “This barn, especially the loft, became my sanctuary from the world shortly after I was assigned here.” Aren allowed her thoughts to escape, unedited. “When things became too much or I just needed to feel centered, feel safe, I’d come up here to the loft. Sometimes I’d climb up high in the hay, almost to the peak, and arrange the bales like a fort, so I was protected from all sides. The hay was my own little castle, like the ones you talk about in books, the creaky floorboards, my moat. I’d lay on my back and watch the dust particles reflect the sunlight, like floating flakes of gold dancing in the breeze. Sometimes, I’d sneak away for a few minutes so I could regroup, other times, I’d spend hours up here, become lost in my thoughts or think about nothing at all and just be still.” Aren looked over to the stacked hay.

  “Do you still do that? Climb up to the top of the hay?” Carol asked.

  “I haven’t done that in years. I haven’t even thought about it in years. The last time was probably right before I left for college.”

  Aren felt Carol’s hand cover hers on the table. The touch was tender and her hand was warm. It felt good. All of it felt so good, the conversation, the interest, the gentle touch. Maybe, Carol pulling her out of her shell, even an inch at a time, was just what she needed. Maybe, just maybe, she could lower the drawbridge and let someone in, perhaps a little bit. Aren covered the top of Carol’s hand with her free hand. She looked up into Carol’s kind, understanding eyes.

  “Carol, just so you know, you’re not a burden. I like having you here. Stay for as long as you want, okay?”

  “Thank you, I appreciate it. Thank you for sharing too, it means a lot to me.”

  Aren squeezed Carol’s hand before releasing it. She stood from the table and walked over to the open loft door. “The sun’s coming up, I’d better get to it.”

  Aren wasn’t sure what else to say. It was all so new, and sharing feelings, hell, acknowledging feelings, wasn’t her strong suit. It was Carol’s though and maybe Carol was right, maybe they could help each other heal.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A few hours later, Carol was mulling over the conversation with Aren while sorting laundry. She had so many questions to ask, but knew she needed to give Aren time. She picked up the last of her dirty clothes and the large manila envelope fell from the edge of the pile. It was the packet from her aunt. She hadn’t been ready to open it when it had arrived the other day, but today she felt stronger. She felt like she could handle what might be inside. Laundry forgotten for the moment, Carol picked up the envelope. She touched the ink that spelled out her name, reminded once again of her mom’s handwriting. Carol looked out beyond the garden and took in the house, still buried beneath the tree. She gathered up her crutches and the envelope, making her way to the small dining table. Carol took a deep breath before opening the envelope and letting the contents spill out onto the table. There was a letter on top.

  My Dearest Carol,

  Honey, if you’re reading this, then something has happened to both me and Uncle Frank. If that’s the case, I hope it was quick for us. I can’t imagine a better way to cross over to the other side than with Frank at my side. He’s always been my rock.

  Sweet Carol, we’re so proud of you. You remind me of your mama more and more. I miss her every single day. We put all of this together after your mama’s passing. Our hope is that we made it all a bit easier on you than it was when your folks passed on. The papers included with this letter outline our wishes. There’s a sheet in here with the name and number of our attorney and accountant, and they can handle everything for you.

  Sweetie, watching you grow up over the years has been such a pleasure. Being your God parents has been our honor. You’re more than just our niece, you’re like a daughter to us and we can’t think of anyone else we’d like to share our little legacy with.

  I love you, Carol. We love you. Hopefully, you’ve found your rock and your happiness by the time this letter finds you. You deserve nothing less.

  Love you to the moon,

  Aunt Suzie

  Carol set the letter down on the table, tears running down her cheeks. She slid it off to the side before reviewing the other documents. Maybe Aren was right, maybe this town could be where she belonged. She turned her attention to the rest of the contents of the envelope.

  “Holy shit,” Carol said over and over while reviewing the papers.

  After some time to settle her emotions, she picked up her phone and dialed the first number on the
list.

  “Thank you for calling Smith, Harper, and Dahl Law Firm. How may I direct your call?” A smooth male voice chimed in her ear.

  “Yes, hello, I was wondering if Savannah Dahl was available.”

  “May I tell her who’s calling?”

  “Oh, yes, sorry, my name is Carol Matthews. Susan and Frank Cordes left me her number.”

  “Thank you, one moment please.”

  The transferred call was answered on the second ring. “This is Savannah Dahl.”

  “Hello, my name is Carol Matthews. Susan and Frank Cordes were my aunt and uncle. They passed away recently and left me with information that included your name and number.” Carol tried not to ramble, but it was a lot to get out.

  “Hi, Carol. I am so sorry for your loss. I read about the lightning strike in the paper. I understand that you were injured as well. How are you doing?”

  “I have a broken leg, but should make a full recovery, thank you for asking. The reason for my call, well, what do I do? Where do I start?”

  “First, let me say that I’m glad to hear that your leg will heal. Second, I understand you’ll have questions. I took the liberty of pulling up the file after I read the article in the paper. Your aunt was quite adamant about having her affairs in order, ensuring that you didn’t have to figure it all out on your own. We’ll need a few copies of the death certificate. Have those been ordered yet?”

  “Yes, I’ve ordered them, but they hadn’t arrived last time I checked the mail. I can check again today.”

  “Yes, please do that. We’ll need original copies in order to file claims with the homeowner’s insurance and a few other entities on the list. We have some forms for you to sign as well if you’d like us to represent you and handle the claims, transfer of assets, etc. It won’t be long after we get the ball rolling that you can start repairs to the home.”

  “This is such a relief! I’ll be in town the day after tomorrow for the funeral. Would that be soon enough? Could I stop in before the service to review and sign the forms?”