When You Fall...

by Robinson, Ruthie

  “I was kind of forced… due to the wedding and all,” she said, her smile stiff, her eyes still holding his.

  “Hiding out then?” he asked, smug smile in place.

  “No,” she said, more forcibly than she’d intended. “I’m not hiding out.”

  “What are you going to do with yourself every day?” he asked, smiling.

  “I’m going to finish cleaning up inside, make it somewhat livable, and figure out where Jack has gotten off to. God knows there’s enough work that needs doing around here. We are going to sell it eventually.”

  “Who is we?” he asked.

  “My family.”

  “To sell, huh?” he asked, mulling that over. “Why?”

  She shrugged.

  “It would be a shame to sell this. It’s a great piece of land.”

  “Don’t I know it. Anyway, I was hoping to make some headway in getting ready to sell. Maybe tomorrow I could start by cutting the pastures or maybe I should check the fence line first. Don’t want to imagine what our fencing looks like,” she said, looking around the property. “But if I cut those pastures first, I could turn out our one horse to feed during the day, so maybe that should be my next job. I’ll need to see if the lawnmower works.”

  “You might need a tractor. Too big for a lawnmower.”

  “The pastures aren’t too big for the lawnmower and I think we have the commercial kind. I know we owned a tractor once. Guess that’s another thing to do, check out the equipment and see what works and what doesn’t.”

  “It’s a lot of work if you’re not used to it.”

  “Don’t think I’m up for it?” she said, smiling, eyes back on his. “And why am I not surprised that you would think that. Who knows, maybe not. You’re probably right. It has been a while. It is certainly different from accounting, which can be hard work too, but in a different way,” she said, looking at him. “I’m an accountant.”

  “You were an accountant. You were fired, remember. For breaking up a wedding,” he said, smiling again. She gave him her middle finger and he laughed. Reluctantly, so did she.

  “You are not a nice man,” she said, admiring him, his pretty smile and charcoal-colored hair, falling a little into his eyes. “I am still an accountant. Just an unemployed one.”

  He smiled his smug smile again.

  “See you around. Try not to kill anyone or pepper spray the horse. Here’s my number if you need anything, because I am a good guy,” he said, handing her his card.

  “Thanks. I’ll try not to use it,” she said. His laughter joined in with hers. She was pretty, with an intoxicating smile. Who knew that shy and self-deprecating could be an intriguing combination? It had never been before. He blamed it on those magazines as he stood there looking at her for a second or two more.

  “My apologies again for my rudeness this morning,” he said.

  “Accepted. And here is your hat and your bat,” she said, picking them up from the chair where she had placed them when she’d gone in search of the notepad.

  He smiled. “See you around,” he said. He put the hat on his head before he walked back the way he’d come.

  She followed his silhouette as he walked away from her, admiring the way his jeans lovingly cupped his body. Too bad she was done with men. She went back to cleaning.

  #

  Rafael walked back home, chuckling at their exchange. It had been interesting and a little fun, if he was going to be honest about it. She was interesting, and pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way. He went for that kind sometimes, but the flighty and small crazed part that had led to the attempted breakup of a wedding gave him pause.

  He didn’t do crazy or flighty, not knowingly anyway, and honestly, someone should tell her that she was starting to be a little too old to be flighty. He was in the market for sturdier stock.

  He looked back over his shoulder after he’d gotten home. She was still out on the back porch, bent over something, probably reading Jack’s magazines.

  He chuckled again at her response to his words. She tried to push back, thinking she could do the work around here, to get her farm back in shape. Good luck with that. He smiled again. It would be entertaining to watch Crazy Carter at least give it a go.

  #

  Sunday afternoon

  Carter was seated at the kitchen table, having made herself a sandwich. She was doing what she’d been doing since she’d arrived—taking care of the horse, cleaning, and making a list of all that needed doing. It would be one hell of a long list when she was done.

  What to do with the list of chores once she was finished making it? She could give it to her father and have him hire another manager. Another option would be for her to remain here and work the list herself—the plan she’d outlined for Rafael the previous night. That option had felt right, and lifted her spirits at the possibilities, in a way she hadn’t felt in too long.

  Plus it wasn’t like she had so much waiting for her to get back to, and the thought of looking for a job brought tears to her eyes.

  She’d found the bedroom that Jack had commandeered. It was worse than the kitchen, if that was possible. She closed the door. This, she would save for later—much, much later, like next month kind of later. She’d called the company Rafael recommended for trash pick up and left a message, so there was nothing more to do with Jack’s junk—which was still stacked out on the back porch—until Monday at the earliest.

  If she was at home, she’d just be getting home from church. Then it would be over to her parents’ house or one of her stepsister’s homes for the big family dinner. It rotated within their family of six girls.

  She had yet to host one, because she had yet to have a home, spouse, or family, but her mind moved away from that for a second and over to its other chief occupation. What the hell Carter—breaking up a wedding. What happened to you? You used to be so different, independent even. Remember when you beat up those little boys that teased you so, because loving horses the way you did, those horse books you carried around with you made you ripe for bullies? Where did that girl get off to?

  Her musings were interrupted by the sound of a car pulling around back. She sighed as she caught sight of it, recognizing the late model Mercedes Benz sedan as it came into view. It belonged to her father, Carl and Gloria, his wife, her stepmother. They had driven the same type since she was a little girl. A new model traded in every few years, but it was always the same large conservative style her dad favored. He owned a Mercedes Benz car dealership—several actually—so you would have thought he would have a new one ever year. No, it was all about having wealth, but not looking like wealth defined you, or affected your choices. An older model signified I’m used to having nice things, but comfortable enough with money to drive last year’s model.

  She watched her dad get out and walk around the side to open the door for Gloria, a habit he was proud of. He was the example for how to treat women, such wealth and refinement, and all in one package. Gloria was a perfect match for her dad. He liked them dressed impeccably, as did her stepsisters, as Carter had learned to do. It was part of the Woodson woman creed.

  She should go out to meet them, but why hurry. She knew what was coming—disappointment followed by a new set of expectations. She’d learned how to handle that, too. It was best to look contrite and listen. The quieter she was, the sooner said lecture would end and she could be on her way.

  She looked over her jeans and t-shirt, wishing she’d dressed better. Oh well, there was nothing she could do about it now. She went to the door, and plastered on a smile.

  “Hey Dad, Gloria. What brings you out this way?” She said, opening the door as they both stood in front of her. They looked her over, mouths settling into old familiar lines of displeasure.

  “I was out in the barn, checking out a horse, courtesy of our old property manager, who is no longer with us,” she said, offering an explanation for her appearance. She stepped aside so they could enter. Her dad closed the door leading fr
om the back porch, and took Gloria’s elbow, walking the short distance from the back door to the kitchen table.

  “What is all this?” her dad asked, as he and Gloria passed the stacks and trash bags full of trash, Carter had left on the back porch.

  “Long story,” she said, following them into the kitchen.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Gloria said, looking around at the inside. “I don’t recall it being so neglected.”

  “I know. I was shocked, too. You should have seen it before I cleaned it up. The trash you walked through was in here—on the tables… everywhere,” Carter said.

  “It’s been cleaned?” Gloria asked, her eyes roaming around, her face fixed in an expression of distaste. Carter ignored her, and turned toward her dad.

  “Jack Shine isn’t the property manager anymore?” he asked, looking around, having held out the chair for his wife. He took a seat next to her, and motioned for Carter to sit, too.

  “No, he’s gone. At least that’s what the new neighbor said. This guy that purchased the old Sandler spread. Seems Jack made our home his own,” she said, taking a seat at the table next to her father.

  “I know about the new neighbor, but not the property’s manager absence or the fact that he was living here. Living on the premises was not a part of his contract.”

  “Well he was living here, and he hasn’t been here since a week ago Monday. Our new neighbor has been looking after the house and the horse. I’ve taken over the horse’s care,” she said.

  “A horse, you say?” he asked.

  “Yes, he was left alone in our barn,” Carter said.

  Her father stood, unbuttoning his suit coat, letting it slide from his arms before he folded it in half, laying it neatly across the back of a chair, before regaining his seat.

  “We’ll come back to that in a moment,” he said, leaning forward on the table, glancing at Gloria before starting. “What would ever make you think breaking up a wedding was a good idea, Carter?” he asked, getting right to the heart of the matter. Her dad didn’t mince words. He had this shortest-distance-between-two-points , straight-line approach to tackling every problem. And she was back to being 15 again.

  “I thought you wanted me to get married,” she said, laughing, hoping to diffuse whatever this was.

  “This isn’t some joke, Carter. This isn’t another one of your jokes. There are consequences to what you do. How many times have I told you that?”

  “More times than you can count,” she said, softly. His eyes jumped to hers and there was anger brimming within them. How often had she seen that look on his face? It was usually after one of her teenage infractions.

  “To tell you we are disappointed would be an understatement. We are hurt, disappointed, angry and embarrassed.”

  “I know.”

  “What did you think? You could just waltz in and waltz out with a husband—somebody else’s husband? The women in this family are better than your antics at that young man’s wedding. He didn’t deserve to have his wedding day ruined by you. Our family does not do things like that. Ever,” he said, loud and controlled, venting the full force of his anger into the room. He took a deep breath and looked out the back window. He was quiet for a second. “I have taught you better than this, Carter,” he said, eyes glued to some place outside the window. “Gloria, how often have I spoken to the girls regarding the attributes necessary to secure husbands of quality?” he said.

  “Often, Carl,” Gloria responded.

  It was quiet.

  “Carter, haven’t I?” he asked.

  “Yes sir, you have,” she said.

  “What happened to following my advice?”

  She shrugged, tired all of a sudden. “I don’t know, Dad.”

  “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. It was another familiar mannerism in his dealing with this daughter. “How could this behavior ever make us proud? It has embarrassed us, is what it’s done. And you’ve lost your job, too, running here with your tail between your legs to hide.” He stood up.

  “Why must everything be so hard for you?” he asked, looking down at her. “I spoke to Mr. Johnson. Of course he called me after he fired you. Wanted to make sure I understood his reasoning, given his firm’s relationship with my business. I told him I understood, and told him I’ve never spared my girls the consequences of their actions. You know that.”

  She remained quiet, hurt again that he hadn’t stood up for her. Yes, she knew that, they all did. Her dad was big on living with one’s consequences.

  “What can we do for you now, Carter? Are you going crazy? Do you need to seek professional help? I’m not sold on the idea, but I’ve reached a point with you where I’m considering it very strongly. Gloria thinks it may be what you need,” he said.

  “Carl,” Gloria said, laying a hand on his arm.

  “What he means to say is that there must be something seriously wrong if you are resorting to breaking up weddings. We just want to help you to be happy, like your sisters. We’ve always only wanted you to be happy,” she said.

  Carter was quiet.

  “What are you going to do now?” her father asked, looking at her. “And please give me the dignity of hearing a response from you,” he said.

  “I thought I might stick around here. I could continue to look after the horse and the house. I’ve already started a list of things to do. You know, to get it in shape to sell. I could start my job search from here, too.”

  He sighed and sat back down, like a balloon losing the last of its air; deflated was the best word to describe him.

  “Why do you make your life so hard?” he said, concerned, but a little more bewildered.

  “I don’t know, Dad. I don’t intend to,” she said.

  “We only want what’s best for you,” Gloria said.

  “I know,” she said. She wished she could give them what they wanted. She’d been trying to for so long. The last half of her life had been one big attempt to make them proud of her.

  They all sat in silence for a few minutes more, privately mulling over their thoughts.

  “I’ll check into the property manager situation and call you later on in the week. In the meantime, I guess it wouldn’t hurt for you to start working around here. You of all people should remember what it looked like in its glory days. I didn’t realize it had fallen into such a state,” her father said, uncomfortable with her. Nothing new there.

  Her dad was not one for drama. He’d reminded her and her stepsisters of that fact often enough growing up. Quiet and dignified was his personal creed. He put his jacket over his arm and stood, waiting for Gloria.

  “We are going to try and make dinner this afternoon, so we can’t stay any longer. It’s Samantha’s turn,” Gloria said.

  “Sure, I understand,” Carter said, standing up with them.

  “Sorry you won’t be with us, but you know what? I’m going to get your sisters together next week, for an intervention,” she said, looking over at her husband, proud of her new plan to bring Carter into her successful sibling fold.

  “An intervention?” both Carter and her dad said in unison.

  “Yes, saw one on TV on the Oprah show or maybe it was Dr. Phil, or maybe it was Dr. Drew… doesn’t matter. It’s where the family members get together to talk sense into the family member that is having trouble with their life; usually it’s some type of addiction. But aren’t we lucky it’s not an addiction with you,” she said, looking at Carter, pleasure in her gaze.

  “I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Carter said.

  “No, it’s okay. Your sisters will make time. I’ve already spoken to Savannah and Madison. They had no idea that you’d gotten this desperate. Maybe they can give you some tips on how to proceed. Yes, that’s it, that’s what we’ll do. You stay safe, baby,” she said, looking at Carter with sympathy.

  Her dad was quiet. His eye
s were still filled with disappointment, and no amount of a new plan could erase it.

  Carter followed them to the door, lifting her face for Gloria’s kiss. Her dad didn’t try to kiss her, but squeezed her arm instead. It would take him a while to get past this. It always did. Carter locked the door behind them, watching the car’s taillights until they disappeared from view.

  #

  Five

  Sunday evening

  Rafael pulled up to the Woodson home around dusk. Why was he here again? Her in her short-shorts with a hint of something peeking out underneath provided some of his motivation, if he were being honest with himself; which he tried to do. Mostly though, he was here to check on the horse; short-shorts was just the icing on the cake. He wanted to make sure she hadn’t killed him. Horses were work, especially for the novice.

  Honestly, he was surprised that she was still here. He’d been equally surprised to find her cleaning up the kitchen the other night. He’d had the pleasure of being around Jack. He was not for the faint of heart—a real slob’s slob. He’d hold out yet to see if she would remain around long enough to clean out the rest of the house, let alone the outside.

  He parked behind her car. It had moved since he was here last. He knocked on the door. No answer so he headed for the barn.

  He heard noise as he entered, and found Carter standing outside of the horse’s stall, talking to the horse, apparently. It confirmed his earlier flighty assessment and the slightly crazy part as well, because this wasn’t a casual conversation by the look of it. Her face was pressed closed to the horse, a hand rubbing his sides as she talked. She looked up at the sound of the door opening.

  “Hey, look who’s here. Mr. October,” she said, her hands falling away from the horse as she stepped back and gave him a smile.

  He smiled his usual smug smile and glided over to her. Glide was the best way to describe Rafael’s gait. Slow, cocky, sure, and confident were also adjectives that belonged to him, she thought, all topped off with a heavy sprinkling of good old-fashioned sexiness.