won’t move the date for signing the papers, so…
There was a pause on the tape. I watched Brooke’s face and finally knew what it meant to be peaked.
Make it go away. Make him go away…forever,
like we talked. Then we’ll be together, just like
we planned. Okay? Take care of it. See you next
weekend, baby. Bye.
Dex clicked the tape player off. Brooke’s father had come up behind us. She looked at him while one of the FBI agents cuffed her.
“Daddy?”
“I’ll go with you,” he said, then turned to Malcolm.
Malcolm stood with his arms across his chest, his face set.
“Nicky really should come home, go to school, get back in the routine,” Burns said.
“She has a home here. It won’t hurt her to miss a couple days of school. We can talk over the weekend.”
Burns nodded and offered his hand. Malcolm took it.
“My deepest regrets, Mac. We’ll talk later.”
Dex ejected the tape and gave it to the other agent. They nodded, put Brooke in the back of a dark sedan and drove off. Burns followed.
Nicky came over a minute later. She looked at Malcolm. I wasn’t sure I could stay for whatever was coming next, but Dex was leaning on me, and he didn’t seem inclined to leave.
“Where’s Mommy going?”
Malcolm looked into her eyes for a long time before answering. Hopefully, Brooke’s revelation about Nicky’s father went right over her head. Malcolm hid whatever he felt about it, at least from her. I could see pain etched in the fine lines of his face, but it had been a painful day. Perhaps he’d always known, or suspected. Maybe that’s what Dex wouldn’t tell me.
Malcolm crouched to her level and put his hands on her shoulders. “Mommy made some bad choices, sweet pea. You know what happens when you make bad choices, right?”
“Is she going to lose privileges or have a time out?”
“Both, my girl.” He hugged her and rubbed her back. “She’s going to lose privileges and have a very long time out.”
“Oh,” she said. “She must have been very naughty.”
Dex One hid a snort in a cough. “That’s one way to put it,” he said under his breath.
Barely missing a beat, Nicky said to Malcolm, “Don’t move. I need to ask you something, but I have to get something—someone—first.”
She ran off. Renee’s Beetle motored slowly along the edge of the field, and Dex One and I started in that direction. At the same time, that lone woman I’d seen earlier approached Malcolm. She said something, most of which I couldn’t hear, but I caught the word “later.” She handed him a small, blue envelope. He nodded, tucked it in his back pants pocket, and hugged her. She walked toward the barn.
“Who was that?” I asked Dex.
“That’s Helen, JJ’s mother,” he said.
It was tempting to say, “Not.” But it was up to her who knew she wasn’t JJ’s biological mother, not me.
Malcolm caught up with us. “You sure you shouldn’t go to the hospital?” he asked Dex. He took over from me to help him into the car.
“Hell, no,” Dex said. “They’ll just stick a tube up my dick.”
Renee got out and leaned on her door. “Somebody finally kick him in the head?”
“Um hm,” I answered.
“He playing hero again?”
“He’s pretty good at it.”
“He’s getting too old for it, if you ask me.”
“Nobody asked you,” Dex hollered, and he slammed his door shut.
“Have fun,” I said.
“Um, um, um.” She got in and gave Dex a kiss.
Malcolm put his arm around me and steered me back to Dex Two’s SUV. “Dex Two will give us a lift back to Winterlight.”
Where the manure was probably knee deep and the horses out of water and screaming to be fed.
“Hank threw the horses hay, but that’s about it. We’ve got work waiting for us.”
Us. The word thrilled and panicked me in equal parts. I swallowed hard. “Work would be good,” I said.
Dex Two handed Malcolm a thick manila envelope. “Your copies of the divorce decree, and everything of import I could find in your father’s apartment. He died intestate. You are the sole heir.” He shook Malcolm’s hand. “Congratulations. You own Winterlight.”
Malcolm looked at the envelope. Surely he realized he would inherit the farm. Holding the official papers, however, appeared to fill him with disbelief. Maybe it was the divorce decree that had him looking doubtful. The day had been so full, he could have simply forgotten.
Nicky dragged Clara over to us.
“Daddy, Clara said I can have a sleepover at her house.”
His face cleared, and he looked at Clara. “Tonight?”
“We’re going to start a new quilt,” Nicky said. “Clara says I can pick out the colors.”
“I understand if you want and keep her tonight,” Clara said. “Maybe we should do it tomorrow, Nicky.”
“No, I want to do it tonight. Please, Daddy?”
He took a deep breath, clearly unsure what was best for the little girl. “Let me think about it, okay? Come with us now, because you’ll need clothes and your nightgown, anyway, and we’ll talk about it. How does that sound?”
“Ooohhhh,” Nicky said in frustration. She crossed her arms and tucked her chin.
“Your daddy’s right,” Clara said. “You ain’t sleepin’ necked at my house. What if you and Hank both needs to use the toilet at the same time, and you run into each other out in the hall, huh? That would be embarrasin’ for ol’ Hank. You know how shy he is. He might up an’ faint.”
Nicky giggled and relaxed. “Okay. See you later.”
“Bye, sweetie.” Clara hugged her and waddled to where Hank waited at their truck.
Dex Two opened a back door and swept an arm toward the seat. “Your carriage awaits, my little princess.”
Nicky climbed in. “Daddy, sit in the back with me?”
“Be right there.”
Malcolm still had his arm around my shoulders. He pulled me to him, and kissed me. On the lips. In front of everyone, which included Dex One and Renee, who was just getting her car turned around, and JJ’s mother, and, well, most of the damn county. It was an act of possession, a public statement. And I didn’t argue whatsoever.
“Let’s go home,” he said.
- 44 -
Home and work. One and the same for me. Dex Two dropped me at the barn and took Malcolm and Nicky to the house. I couldn’t wait to get to work, and there was plenty of it. Noire ran up to me, and I knelt to hug her.
“Sorry you missed all the excitement, girl.” I smoothed her ears. She licked my face and sniffed my hands and feet, and I remained still until she had her own version of events.
A short time later, I had everyone turned out and water heating for Gaston’s bran mash. I hummed, determined to fill the hollow spaces so no thought could settle, no images could intrude, and no questions could be asked.
Downstairs, I heard Nicky’s voice.
“I want to see the kittens.”
I poured steaming water into a bucket of bran, oats, and carrots, gave it a stir, draped it with a towel, and headed down.
“They’re in the loft,” I said. “Come on. Let’s go see.”
The kittens played in a patch of dusty sunlight, rolling together in a furry vortex. Nicky and I tickled them with pieces of hay and petted their fat bellies. Henrietta slid against me, purring, and I scratched her back. She licked my hand, then the head of one of her tabby offspring when it tumbled against her.
“Good mama cat,” I cooed. “You have beautiful babies.”
I watched Nicky. She made delighted little-girl sounds, but had shadows around her eyes. I was glad I wasn’t the one to explain things to her. I’d have a hard enough time coming up with answers for myself when I got around to thinking, which I didn’t intend to do anytime soon.
We went downstairs where Malcolm had already started cleaning stalls. Gaston tucked into his mash with enthusiasm.
The afternoon wore on until Malcolm announced it was time for Nicky to have a bath and dinner and get to bed. He’d explained earlier she would not be going to Hank and Clara’s, and she’d put up a fight. Now, she gave another half-hearted argument about helping Clara with the new quilt.
“You’re staying with me tonight, and that’s that,” he said.
“But Daddy,” she whined.
“Tomorrow night, I promise.” He took her shoulders, about-faced her toward the house, and gave her butt a swat. She marched away with a giggle.
He turned to me. “Come up when you’re through?”
I nodded. Everything was done. I just needed to shower. But I wasn’t sure the little hot water heater that supplied my apartment held enough to make me feel clean.
Upstairs, I had a message from Penny. I phoned her, but she wasn’t home, so I left her a message that I’d try again the next day then called the hospital. Sandy’s condition had improved. They’d release her tomorrow. I said I’d be there to pick her up and made a mental note to see about getting her place tidied up before returning her there.
They put me through to her.
“Well, if it ain’t the dream horse detective,” she said, her voice scratchy.
I paused to process this comment. “Dex and Renee stopped to see you?”
“Wow, you really are psychic. How’d you know?”
“No special power, just a brilliant piece of deduction.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. How are you?”
“Can’t wait to get the hell outta here, take a real bath, and eat some real food, ya know?”
I did know. “How about if I pick you up in the morning, and we go straight to The Brick?”
“You read my mind, new girl. Could you get something for me to put on besides this pukey hospital gown? It ain’t my best color.”
“You got it.”
The line was quiet for a moment. Then, she said, “Hey Vi, thanks for…you know.”
“Yeah. You can buy me breakfast.”
“Deal. Say hi to Fawny-Wawny for me.”
A hot shower and change of clothes later, I felt revived, and let myself into the tiny mudroom off Malcolm’s kitchen. Noire padded behind me, sniffing chair legs and doorways, and the floor. The house was quiet. Nicky must have fallen asleep easily and Malcolm still be with her. The almost-set sun sprayed golden-red shadows over the living-room wall. I decided to sit in Malcolm’s easy chair to watch them fade, and wait for him. As I snuck past the couch, his arm caught me around the waist, and he pulled me onto his lap.
“Hey,” I whispered. “I’ve had enough scary stuff for one day.”
“Sorry. But I’ve waited long enough to hold you—in private.” He adjusted us both deeper into the soft cushions.
We stared at each other a long time. He wore only a pair of shorts and a ratty tee-shirt and smelled like soap. I had my hands around his neck and massaged the muscles there with my thumbs. He had one arm around my back, the other resting on my thigh. I kicked off my sandals.
Bruises had started blooming on his face and probably in unseen parts of his body, too. I palpated his slightly swollen nose. He flinched, removed my hand, and kissed my fingers.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“I am.”
Sitting on the couch in the almost dark was suddenly too intimate for us, I think, and we sprang up. He’d taken out steaks to defrost earlier. I found a bag of broccoli that looked like it’d been in the back of the freezer since the turn of time. But I don’t think either of us was concerned with flavor. We just needed to fill our bellies and keep ourselves busy.
We brushed against each other a few times in the kitchen. I opened doors, looking for glasses, and he came up behind me, put one hand on my waist, and pointed to the next cabinet. When he went to the fridge, I found a reason to reach around him. He smiled and moved into me just enough. My body throbbed, a pleasurable thrill of heat bouncing from deep down in my belly up to my chest and back.
I found plates and utensils, and he insisted we eat on the back porch, through a squeaky screen door with the screen bowed out near the handle. Pale pink light, the last of the day, reflected off a pond not far from the house across a yard in bad need of mowing. Frogs sang. An old wooden swing hung by chains, but we sat on the steps and were quiet. Noire settled in the grass at our feet, tail wagging, licking her lips.
He picked at his broccoli, had a few quick bites of steak, and set his plate aside. “Will you stay here with me tonight, Viola Parker? In my bed?”
I hadn’t finished either, but tossed the T-bone to Noire, took my plate from where it balanced on my knee and put it next to his. Even in the deepening twilight, he must have been able to see the thousand-million questions on my face.
“I’ll just hold you, if that’s all you want.” He rested his elbows on his thighs and looked at his hands. “I can’t really guarantee that’s all that will happen if you do come as far as the bed.” He half smiled, but he wasn’t sure, I could tell.
When I didn’t respond, he continued. “It’s a new bed. I’m the only one who’s used it.”
That rising ache in my chest returned. I knew what it was, now. Joy, and fear—my heart trying to feel, my head fighting to contain it. Answers could wait. I told my head to shut up.
“Just tonight,” he said. “Tomorrow, we can discuss tomorrow night. And the next day—”
“That’s not all I want, Robert Malcolm.”
He stopped and looked at me, and the smile started. Then, he grabbed my hand, and we ran up the stairs, quiet like, so as not to wake Nicky. We slid on the polished wood floor in front of his bedroom and skidded through the doorway. The door, an old and solid one, closed too loudly, and we both froze and listened. When all we heard was our own breathing, laughter burbled up and sloshed over. He put his finger to my lips, and I nipped him.
“Is that how it is?” he teased.
I nodded very slowly. “Um-hm.”
He leaned in for the kiss, and I closed my eyes, then found myself in his arms, across the room and bounced on the bed. I stifled a shriek.
He climbed over me and said, “Hush,” on a breath. After kissing me senseless, he levered himself up, reached into the drawer in his nightstand, and brandished an unopened box of condoms. He looked both sheepish and uncertain.
His concern and forethought sent a pang of tenderness through me. “Good idea,” I said.
He looked reassured, then paused, and there it was, the expression he got when his brain’s gears were in overdrive. “I haven’t done this in a while.”
I took the box from him and squinted at it. “They’re not expired, are they?”
He snatched it from me, tore it open, and pulled one out. “No, they’re new, like the bed.”
I laid my palm against his cheek. “I haven’t done this in a while either. But I bet we remember how.”
And then our clothes were off, and we were between the cool sheets and his skin, all of his smooth, delicious skin was finally against mine, and I lost track of where I ended and he began.
When he entered me, he buried himself deep with one thrust, and we both went still. I rocked my hips to take him farther inside, and a strained groan escaped his throat.
“I can’t—”
My mind went blank. “You can’t—?”
“If either of us moves, I’ll come.”
Oh.
I started to laugh. “There’ll be a next time, won’t there?”
I’d never thought about it before, but it’s impossible to laugh without moving.
He swore and dug his fingers into my flesh, and his teeth sank into my shoulder, but he couldn’t stop himself.
Fortunately, there was a next time.
And a next. And, well…the man is in good shape, lots of stamina.
I don’t remember
falling asleep. I do remember not dreaming.
- 45 -
I awoke to darkness and that brief disorientation that goes with waking in a strange room with my head on someone else’s pillow. I stretched and felt raw soreness in places that hadn’t known soreness for some time, and I smiled and rolled, and…he wasn’t there.
I hate that.
I got up, found his discarded tee-shirt, pulled it over my head, and tiptoed out. I was almost past Nicky’s open door when I heard a sleepy little voice.
“Daddy?”
I thought of continuing, pretending I didn’t hear, but I couldn’t. I went to her bedside.
“It’s me, sweetie. You okay? You want me to get your daddy or a glass of water or something?”
She shook her head.
I sat my hip on the edge of the mattress. “Bad dream?”
She shook her head again. “You sleeping in Daddy’s room?”
Oh, great. “Yeah. Right next door.”
She nodded as if that fit with her expectations.
“What happened to JJ?”
Crap. Where the hell was her father?
“Well…”
“Is he in heaven?”
Oh, boy. “Something like that.”
“My friend Samantha had a turtle that died. Her mommy said he went to heaven, but Sammi said her brother flushed him down the toilet.”
Heaven via the sewer. Sounded about right.
Malcolm’s earlier explanation about Brooke came to mind. “JJ was kind of naughty, though, he made some bad choices.”
“Oh,” she said. “So, maybe he’s in that other place. I’m not allowed to say it.”
I nodded and hoped like the-word-she-couldn’t-say we were finished. She darted her eyes to the window, then back at me. Nope, her little brain was still clicking.
“What did Mommy mean when she said that stuff to JJ?”
Oh, please. “What stuff was that?”
“She said I was his daughter. What does that mean? How could he be my daddy?”
I hoped Malcolm had a healthy savings account. I could just see the therapist bills piling up. For me.
Candace Carrabus - Dreamhorse 01 - On the Buckle Page 29