Cowgirl

by Nance Sparks

  “Shit, absolutely. I had no idea about the candles.” She pulled her leg free from the bale and started to stand up.

  “I’ll get it. You can stay, I’ll be right back. I just need a second.” Aren disappeared down the main aisle. Suddenly, lights clicked on, row after row. It was brighter than Carol had ever seen it. She watched Aren come back up the aisle and walk around the table, blowing out the candles.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Let me get the other loft door, that will help air it out some.” Aren took off down the main aisle again. “I just need to be in the light and to not smell that smell. The candles went out, that night, when I ran from room to room. That smell, when the candle smoke rises… It usually doesn’t bother me, but tonight, it’s all too much.”

  Carol got up from the chair and made her way toward Aren, stopping about midway. The hay, the hay is safe. “Aren, would you build us a hay castle? Let’s sit in the hay.”

  “What? Now?”

  Carol worked her way to Aren at the far loft door. She hoped this wouldn’t sound childish. “Please, can we go sit in the hay? Let’s smell the hay instead of the candles. Let’s make a safe place in the hay.”

  Aren turned around to face Carol, her eyes wet with tears. They looked haunted, terrorized and rightly so. There was no doubt in Carol’s mind that Aren was reliving every single second of that awful day.

  “I don’t want you climbing up the hay. What if you slip or fall?”

  “What about a hay spot down here, beneath one of the lights? We can stack bales around us. What do you say?”

  Aren nodded and led her to a single stack of hay beneath one of the large lights. She stepped up onto the stack and pulled a few bales off a taller stack close by to create a U shape out of the bales. The breeze from the loft door was just enough to keep it from being stifling. Carol propped up her crutches outside the stack and crawled into the space, not much bigger than a double bed. She worked her way to the back corner of the U and patted the space next to her. Silently, Aren joined her. Carol pulled her into her arms and held her until her breathing settled. She couldn’t believe that it had been Phyllis, someone Aren had once trusted and admired, who was responsible for that injury, responsible for all those scars, inside and out. She couldn’t imagine how much alcohol, how much rage and desperation, it would take to make someone do something like that.

  Carol was surprised when Aren started talking again.

  “They took me to the hospital and told me the next day that I had been in surgery most of the night while they stitched my face back together, along with my hands and arm. They did their best to repair my hands, and some of those cuts were quite severe, but they couldn’t save the sight in my left eye. There was too much damage. The police were there too, questioning me over and over. They wanted a detailed order of events, then they’d review things in the right order, then tell me I said the wrong order and then change the order again. It was hard to keep track. I guess they got what they wanted since they eventually left. There were complications, infections. They missed a few fragments of glass.” She rubbed at her face, wiping away tears and sweat. “I had to get arrangements made for Phyllis and Jen. I had to keep the animals here cared for. I just shut down, blocked everything out, and did what I had to do in order to keep going.” Aren stopped, unable to continue.

  Carol pulled her in close and let Aren cry. She found herself crying too, sobbing right along with Aren. She held her until her breathing changed and she fell asleep. Carol sat up for a while, in the brightly lit loft, absorbing everything she’d learned tonight. For the first time, she understood the seclusion, the walls, the barriers, and was thankful that she knew about the safe place in the hay. How could someone go through so much, experience so much tragedy, and still have such a good heart? Aren was funny and sweet, too, things that life should have wiped away but hadn’t. The more she learned, the more she was in awe of the beautiful person Aren was.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Aren squinted, adjusting to the bright overhead lights. She carefully lifted Carol’s arms off to the side before sitting up. Carol was hunched over and sound asleep. She looked adorable with hay stuck in the side of her hair, though she’d be sore tomorrow if left to sleep here. Aren got up on her knees and scooped Carol into her arms.

  “What are you doing? Where are we going?” Carol’s voice was garbled by a yawn. She draped her arms around Aren’s neck.

  “I’m going to take you to bed,” Aren said.

  “Hmm, I’d like that.” Carol’s head rested on Aren’s shoulder. She sounded as if she were mumbling in her sleep.

  Aren worked her way to the edge of the bales. She lowered one leg, shifting her weight so she could get her other knee off the bales and beneath her, without dropping Carol. Carefully, she walked up the main aisle and into the living area. She bent over to lay Carol closer to the center of the bed and Carol’s arms released. She rolled over onto her side, her casted leg still dangling off the bed. Aren lifted her leg up and then covered Carol with a light blanket. Part of her would have liked to curl up against her and pull her tight, but she was too raw from the night’s emotions to do anything like that.

  She walked quietly over to the loveseat, picked up the two coffee cups from earlier, and made her way to the sink while replaying the conversation from a few hours ago. She felt ridiculous, embarrassed for freaking out like that. Running around turning on all the lights, then hiding in the hay like a terrified child. What Carol must think. She turned on the countertop light before walking to the other end of the barn and shutting off the large overhead lights. She stood there, next to the light panel, looking out the far loft door into the darkness. Now Carol knew how her face had become scarred, knew all the gory details about what had happened that night. What she wouldn’t give to know how Carol felt about it. She hadn’t cried in years. She’d learned not to. It was a sign of weakness. It was safer not to cry. She walked back up the aisle, grabbing Carol’s crutches along the way.

  Aren plopped down on the Adirondack sofa with a tall glass of milk. Bailey moved closer, leaning up against her leg.

  “What do you think, Bailey girl? Did I share too much? She must think I’m crazy.” Aren patted her dog’s neck.

  “No, you definitely did not share too much, and no, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

  Aren jumped to her feet and spun around. Carol sat at the edge of the bed, softly illuminated by the countertop light. She reached for her crutches.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t wake me. My bladder did. Are you okay? I can stay up and sit with you.”

  “It’s just after three in the morning. You should at least try to get a few more hours of sleep.”

  “Do you need some time alone? If you do, I’ll go to the bathroom and go right back to bed, but if you’d like company, I can take a nap later.” Carol made her way across the space, through the dining area.

  Aren shook her head. “I don’t need time alone. I’ve had my fill of that, four years was enough. Coffee or milk?”

  “Let’s start with milk and see what the morning brings.” With that, Carol closed the bathroom door.

  Aren walked into the kitchen and poured a second glass of milk. She was grateful that Carol woke up and glad to have her there. Carol nudged her when she needed nudging, pushed her when she needed a good shove. It felt good to have someone care again. She put on a pot of coffee just in case they decided to stay up talking.

  Carol sat next to Aren on the Adirondack sofa and smiled when Aren covered her legs with the light blanket from the bed.

  “How are you feeling this morning?” Carol asked.

  “Spent. A little embarrassed. Worried about what you must think of it all.” Aren looked out into the darkness. The new moon turned the landscape into a deep void, leaving her with nothing out there to focus on.

  “Oh, Aren, you have nothing to feel embarrassed about. How you survived that,
came out the other side, is beyond me. I think you’re the strongest person I know.” Carol twisted in her seat.

  “I know I didn’t quite finish explaining why I didn’t return to Kentucky.”

  “I figured it was because of your injuries.”

  “That was certainly a big part of it.” Aren set down her empty milk glass. She kept her focus on the black void beyond the screen. “You see, by the time everything healed properly, I didn’t think I’d have a job to go back to. They’d canceled my insurance even before I was completely done healing. I didn’t know if my hands could be steady enough to do my work. I was embarrassed, too. I couldn’t face my colleagues with the scars and the cloudy eye, all of which looked much worse back then. My vision was no good anymore, and I didn’t know if I could see well enough to work with a microscope or to operate. Besides, this was where Jen was. I’d already abandoned her once. Phyllis was right, you know. It was my fault. I was responsible for all that happened to them. I was selfish and walked away. If I’d been here, none of that would have happened.” Aren had never said the words out loud, and it was a relief to do it, even though it hurt.

  Carol tugged at Aren’s chin until she turned her head. She had a way of expressing so many emotions with a simple look in her eyes. At this moment, with her forehead furrowed, she looked stern. Aren held her gaze and waited for the words that would confirm everything she felt about herself.

  “None of that was your fault! You’re not responsible. They could have sold this place and moved to a small house in town. Nothing said they had to stay here on this land. They could have moved to Lansing where Ron worked. They could have moved closer to the prison when Daniel was still alive. Hell, they could have sold the farm and moved to an island in the middle of the ocean. Aren, you are not responsible for their choices, not one of them. Not for Jen’s choices, not for Ron’s or Phyllis’s. They each made their own way, just like you did when you went to school.”

  Aren nodded slightly. Carol released her chin and held her hand. She was grateful for the touch. A therapist had told her the same thing years ago, but the guilt continued to eat at her. The voices continued to scream at her, torment her dreams in the darkness of night. No one else could understand what she’d been through, especially that night. “I know what you’re saying makes sense. I know we all choose our own paths. I know different choices could have been made by each and every one of us, but the logical side of my brain and the guilt that I still feel in my heart simply agree to disagree. I imagine that a different person, a saner person, would have bolted at the first opportunity after that night. Maybe I should have found some place to start over, found a different way to use my education, or even just walked away and never looked back. But as twisted as it sounds, to me, this farm is home. I know it sounds crazy, but once upon a time it was the best home I’d ever known. And there’s something else, not quite a promise, but a mutual dream, that I felt compelled to honor.”

  Aren needed to stand up. She went into the kitchen and rinsed out the two coffee cups from earlier. She held one up to Carol, who half-smiled and nodded in return. Aren fixed the two cups of coffee and made her way back to her seat.

  “I have a thousand questions about what your life must have been like if this was the best home you’ve ever had, especially after that night, but I know that’s not for today,” Carol said.

  “No, that’s definitely not for today, I don’t have it in me.”

  “Will you tell me about the mutual dream? Can we keep talking, even if just for a little bit?” She snuggled into Aren’s shoulder.

  “How do I explain this one? Well, when you’re a kid in the system, you completely lose any hint of control over your life. The system, the social workers, everyone but you, decides where you’ll sleep, what possessions you’re allowed to keep, everything about your existence. There’s simply no control, so you start to crave it. You dream about the day that you can determine your own destiny, the day that you answer to no one but yourself. That’s utopia, I get that, but as kids, you can dream of utopia. When Jen and I were sent here, we were both from big cities. Tight spaces, rough neighborhoods, intense situations, and zero control. Out here, in the country, it was different. This way of life was completely foreign to us, but Ron and Phyllis somehow knew how to get through to us, knew how to teach us the what, why, and how, of what needed to be done. We fought it at first, dug in our heels, each in our own way, but after a while we started to see the benefits too. We started to pay attention, accept the lessons, ask questions. We found out that if we worked hard and got the chores done, we could have some freedom, some control of our time. We could take the horses out and ride, we could hang out in the tall grass and talk for hours, we could make friends and spend time with them. We also figured out that the more we did on the farm, the less we had to buy off the farm. Milk, eggs, meat, vegetables, and then there’s wood for heat, wood for buildings, hay for feed, so many things were right there, provided by nature and a lot of hard work. Learning how to be self-sufficient meant we had more control, and we both loved that. We saw a way to our utopia, a way to achieve control over our own lives. All we had to do was to buy a farm. So, we looked at what jobs made enough money to buy land or a farm. I had a knack for working with the animals, and veterinary medicine seemed a perfect fit. Jen looked at the medical field too and was taking classes in nursing. We were going to work hard and bank the money, and our goal was to eventually buy ourselves a farm, but then life happened. Things started going downhill, spiraling out of control. Jen refused to leave, Ron died, Phyllis fell apart and then that night happened, and the world crashed down around me. So, while I was healing and tending to this farm, it occurred to me that this was a working farm. This was the dream, and this was where Jen was. I could honor the dream, honor our goal. I could buy this farm and maybe gain just a little bit of control in a very uncontrollable time of my life. So, that’s what I did. I paid off the debts Phyllis had run up all over town and worked with the bank to buy the farm.”

  “Why on earth would you pay off Phyllis’s debts? She did nothing to deserve that kindness.”

  “I didn’t do it for Phyllis, I did it to help clear the name of the farm, maybe bring some honor back, though I don’t think it had the effect I’d hoped for.” Aren sighed. “Anyway, that’s why I didn’t go back to Kentucky, and why I stayed in a town that barely tolerates me. It’s home, and it’s mine.”

  She leaned her head against Carol’s and drew in a few deep breaths. She was done talking for the time being. She just wanted to sit here, hold Carol in her arms, and watch the horizon welcome the morning sun.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Carol lifted the spoon to her lips and tasted the soup. Something was missing. It was her first attempt at a cream-based soup in a Crock-Pot. She’d used leftover chicken from the day before and added a variety of vegetables to the potatoes in the recipe, but something was missing, it was bland and lifeless. Carol was digging through the spice rack hoping to be inspired when her phone rang.

  “Hello.” She caught it on the third ring.

  “Hello, is this Ms. Matthews?” a male voice asked.

  “Yes, this is Carol Matthews.”

  “Well, ma’am, my name’s Trevor Lee. I’ve been working with Cliff on your house. I’m wondering if you have some time to meet me over here. I have a few things that belong to you.”

  “Certainly, what time?” Carol looked out the loft window. A shiny new skeleton of pine was taking shape where the crushed home once stood.

  “I’m here now, working, so anytime is fine,” Trevor said.

  “Okay, I’ll be over shortly.” Carol wondered what on earth he could have that belonged to her.

  She made her way down the loft stairs, an expert now at hopping down the stairs on one foot while holding the rail with one hand and her crutches in the other. She could smell the sweet scent of fresh cut hay as soon as she opened the lower barn door. The chugging sound of the tractor grew closer. Shieldi
ng her eyes from the sun, Carol searched the fields for the tractor. She felt like a teenager with a super crush, hoping to sneak a peek. Her breath hitched at the sight of Aren perched confidently atop the tractor. Carol watched her twist in her seat, maybe checking the haying equipment behind the tractor. It didn’t matter, she saw what she wanted to see, a sexy lean cowgirl. The black hat, the sunglasses and that white tank top that hugged her perfectly made her the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. The desire to rip that tank top off was becoming more and more difficult to resist. They were growing so close with the conversations and the gentle touches, and she loved cuddling up to her at night. It was hard to be patient yet she knew it was best to wait, for both of them. But there was no longer any doubt in her mind that she wanted more.

  Aren must have spotted her. She stood tall, climbed up onto the tractor seat, and waved with both arms. Carol could see her beautiful smile from here. What a goof. What an adorable, loveable goof. Carol waved back. She needed to be on solid ground before jumping in, they both did, but soon just wasn’t soon enough. She watched Aren lower herself back into the seat before turning and making her way up the path to the road.