by Susana Mohel
My father turns his angry bloodshot eyes on me.
“You most certainly will not be marrying him,” he states. “In his twisted game, you are the queen and he’s is just a pawn, a nothing, a nobody. He’s an opportunist gold digger, that’s all Joel Sadger is. Open your eyes, Tara. Can’t you see that’s why he set his sights on you? He’s using you, taking advantage of your sweet innocence, seducing you, making you believe he actually cares for you, when the truth is you mean nothing more to him than a meal ticket, a means of dragging himself out of the gutter. I will never allow my daughter to be the wife of a common cowboy, to involve herself with a lowlife piece of shit like him.”
I open my mouth to refute his ugly words, but when I look over at Joel, he puts his finger to his lips to silence me. I guess he’s right, whatever I say will only aggravate the situation.
“Go home, Tara,” he says. “Your father and I need to talk alone, man to man. I’ll come and find you after.”
But I can’t move, my legs refuse to work. I can’t leave him, not when my father is so determined to split us up.
“You promise?” I say, tears streaming down my face. I’m petrified of losing him, but I have to believe there’s a way out of this, that we still have a future together, because there just has to be. Love conquers all, right?
“I promise,” he says, looking intently at me. “Faith over fear, Tara. Nothing will prevent me from coming to get you.”
I have faith.
And I believe him.
I go home, still in a haze of tears, and lock myself in my room to wait for him, praying for a miracle to get us out of this nightmare. My mother, as always, isn’t around, so I’m all by myself—not that she’d provide any comfort anyway.
But it’s hard being alone with my thoughts, my anguish.
Night falls, cloaking the house in a deafening silence. With each passing minute, my gnawing anxiety grows.
Where is Joel? What’s happening? He and my father can’t possibly still be talking, so what the hell is going on? What if my father started beating him again after I left? What if he needs me? Please God, let him be okay.
I whisper my mantra over and over.
Let him come for me. Please, let him come for me.
Joel promised he’d come. I know my father is wrong. Joel isn’t using me, he isn’t a gold digger.
Joel loves me, he wouldn’t let me down, he wouldn’t abandon me.
He promised.
Yet as the hours pass, my hope slowly fades, along with the faith he asked me to have in him.
Finally, I cry myself into an exhausted sleep.
The next day, when there’s still no sign of Joel, I have to face up to the terrible truth.
Joel isn’t coming for me.
He’s broken his promise.
He doesn’t come back and I never see him again.
ღ
I wake engulfed in comforting warmth, and sigh contentedly as I stretch out in bed like a contented cat. I haven’t slept this well in forever, and right now I feel safe, protected, and peaceful.
Regretfully, this euphoria doesn’t last. Boy, recall sure is a bitch. My eyes fly open as everything comes flooding back to me.
What happened with Joel last night.
Or rather what I let happen, even though I knew he was involved with Cassandra, that bitch that he’s got pregnant. How on earth could I have forgotten about her and the baby? Joel and I might be married, but her carrying his baby certainly trumps that. Which makes me the other woman, not her. I am so stupid for allowing my lustful hormones to run amok. What have I gone and done?
Sold my soul to the devil, that’s what. I got carried away in the heat of the moment, and now I have to deal with the repercussions.
Joel murmurs softly behind me, then pulls me up tightly against him. I feel his massive morning wood prodding my back, and when his hands start wandering, I know where he thinks this is heading…
Uh-uh. Not happening. I ignore the heat already building in my lady parts. He can go find his beloved Casandra to take care of his needs. I refuse to get sucked in by him again, so he sure as hell isn’t getting anything else from me.
Still half asleep, he grumbles when I tug the sheet off and try to push him out of bed. When he doesn’t budge, I get even more frustrated with him.
Something more drastic is called for.
I’m on it.
Wrapping myself in the bed sheet—no way am I giving him a free eyeful—I head to the attached bathroom, returning with a glass of cold water, the entire contents of which I throw over his face.
That wakes him up quick enough. He sits bolt upright, disoriented and bewildered.
His confused eyes meet mine.
“What in the fuck…? What the hell did you do that for?” he yells.
Ooh, he looks mightily pissed off now. But I’m mightily pissed off too, you know?
“You get the hell out of my bed and keep on walking right out of my house. Right the hell now,” I say, snapping my fingers and pointing to the door.
“Tara, what’s wrong? I don’t understand… I thought we’d sorted things out…”
“Well, you thought wrong, lover boy,” I cut him off. “If you’re looking for someone to take care of that boner for you, I suggest you go find Cassandra. She can deal with your needs, which I don’t imagine will be a problem seeing as you got the slut pregnant. I’ll manage the ranch on my own from now on. I don’t need you here complicating things, I don’t know why I ever thought it was a good idea to come looking for you.”
“You know why you did.”
“Call it a momentary lapse of judgment. Or perhaps I’m just plain stupid.”
“No, you came and found me because you still have faith in me,” he argues. “You never stopped loving me, and you never will. I’m right, aren’t I?”
My mouth pops open at his arrogant assertion, then slams shut again. Damn he’s right, but that only makes things worse.
We stay here staring each other in silence, both stubborn, determined. And broken.
Joel looks defeated but determined.
“Look, if you really want me to leave, I’ll go, but first we need to talk, get a few things cleared up once and for all,” he continues in his calm, horse-whisperer voice. No wonder those horses will do anything he commands of them. But I’m not one of his skittish mares and he has no right making any kind of demands from me.
“Grant me that much at least, Tara,” he cajoles persuasively. “Just give me a few minutes of your time, then if you still want me to leave, I promise I’ll get out of your life, and leave you in peace, if that’s what you still want. Plus I’ll sign any divorce papers with no argument. That’s not unreasonable, is it, in exchange for just a few minutes of your time?”
I shouldn’t trust him, I know I shouldn’t. Yet I still find myself nodding my compliance.
“I’ll give you some space to get dressed. I’ll wait for you in the kitchen,” he murmurs as picks up his jeans and grey Henley from the floor, quickly shrugs them on, then heads out.
With my mind in complete turmoil, I wander into the bathroom, dropping the sheet covering my body to study myself in the mirror. I look a total wreck. No way can Joel can find me attractive, so this whole business has to be a ruse on his part to get the ranch. It’s not just my messy hair or swollen lips, not just the ugly bruises on my arms and my face. It’s more than just these superficial wounds. I look as if I’ve aged at least fifteen years, and I know it’s not just down to worry.
Oh, how I wish I was a little girl again, when life was much simpler. I used to love playing make believe, happily skipping around in my fairy wings, waving my magic wand, believing I could set the world to rights.
If only.
What can’t speak can’t lie, and my reflection presents me with a brutally honest picture. I’ve lost so much weight you can count my ribs, and my pale skin has a nasty yellowish tinge. I’m told this will worsen as my condition progresses, but what
can I do? It is what it is. God, I hate that saying.
But there’s no point to this pity party. Not when I have to get on with dealing with the man currently waiting for me in the kitchen, along with what’s left of my sad, pathetic life.
I step in the shower, hoping the hot water will revitalize me sufficiently to hold my own against my new husband. I can’t allow myself to cave into the physical attraction between us again. If I haven’t the strength to overcome that, then how on earth can I expect to deal with everything after?
Twenty minutes later, I’m making my way down the stairs wearing Daisy Dukes and a tank top. My hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, I’m makeup-free and barefoot. There’s no need for primping, I’m not out to impress. This is me, I am what I am. He knows me well enough. And yet not at all.
Joel is waiting for me in the kitchen, standing by the table where we were supposed to share our dinner. Before everything went crazy. Before I knew the truth.
Acting the gentleman, Joel pulls out the chair and gestures for me to sit. As I slide into the seat, he slides in next to me, his hand brushing against my bare arm.
And just that whisper of a touch sends sparks flashing throughout my body.
I ignore them—I have to focus on what we’re here to deal with. But before I can say anything, Joel hands me his cell phone.
“Take a look at these pictures,” he says.
“Why are you showing me these?” I see some photos on Facebook of the bitch hugging an older bald guy. “That guy is Stephen, Cassandra’s husband. They’re very happily married, and it’s his baby she’s carrying, not mine,” Joel states emphatically. “Cassie and I are just good friends, nothing more. There’s never been anything romantic between us, she’s like a sister to me.”
I shake my head and gape at him in disbelief, then look again at the photos. I can’t deny Cassandra and this guy look the picture of happiness as they beam happily at the camera. But this can’t be right, I’ve seen the way that bitch looks at Joel, how possessive she is towards him.
“Look at the date,” he insists, noting my skepticism. “Those pictures are very recent, they were posted just last night.”
I’m struggling to take in what I’m seeing, but there’s no disputing the date on the pictures is indeed from last night.
“But I’ve seen the way she acts with you…”
“We. Are. Just. Friends, Tara. You know, it is possible to have a platonic friend of the opposite sex,” he arches his eyebrows.
“Yes, of course I know that. But trust me, your buddy Cassandra ‘likes’ you in much more than a platonic way,” I repeat. Call it female intuition, but I know she’s interested in Joel.
“No, you’ve got it all wrong, Tara,” he insists adamantly. “Cassandra is very happily married to Stephen, she’s expecting his baby and certainly isn’t interested in anything other than friendship with me. We are friends and nothing more. Nothing.”
I remain silent, unconvinced.
“I’m not a cheater, Tara. I would never cheat on you. Never. You have to believe that.”
His hand gently caresses my cheek, his eyes pleading for me to believe him, to trust him.
But I can’t let it drop. Maybe Joel needs to look a bit deeper into this ‘platonic’ relationship, because even if he can’t see it, there’s no question in my mind that the bitch regards Joel as her property. Sure, looks aren’t everything, but cynically, my guess would be the paunchy bald guy she hitched herself to would be her loaded sugar daddy.
“Let me just ask, do you share the same kind of platonic relationship with any other girl of your acquaintance? Or just Cassandra?”
He stares at me. “What are you implying?”
“Just checking how many other females I can expect to pop up out of the woodwork, poking their noses in where they have no business to.”
Joel rolls his eyes at my sarcastic comments, then hands me a manila folder containing some papers.
“The reason I involved Cassandra and her husband was for advice, since they have a great deal of experience and a lot of useful contacts in the ranching business. It was through them I got my last job—you know, the really great position I gave up, without hesitation, to help you out?”
“Yeah, I suppose I should have thanked you for that,” I murmur, realizing I’ve selfishly taken for granted the way Joel instantly dropped everything for me when I turned to him for help. Looking at things from his perspective, can I really blame him for wanting some kind of security in exchange for giving up his livelihood?
“Yeah, maybe you should’ve. Anyway, Cassie and Stephen also run a real estate company—you may have heard of Cohen Real Estate? And yes, you overheard us discussing selling the ranch, as she quite rightly suggested it made sense to consider all options before ruling anything out.”
“Quite the cozy chat you two had about my ranch—funny how your platonic friend didn’t include me in these discussions, how she didn’t have the courtesy to ask for my input concerning any plans for my ranch. Maybe that was because she knew I’d never agree to selling up.”
Joel takes a deep breath, stares up at the ceiling and massages the bridge of his nose with two fingers, closing his eyes, as if averting a headache. Maybe he’s calling for divine intervention, but it would seem he has no luck in that department.
“You have this fixation that I’m intent on selling the ranch. Like I said, I had a duty to consider all options, but once I’d had a chance to look at the books, it didn’t make any kind of financial sense to sell up, not when things are running at a loss, Redlands is hemorrhaging money left right and center and is mortgaged to the hilt. We’d lose everything if we were forced to sell at rock bottom price and then have no income.
“Well, you considered it,” I point out defensively.
“Yes, but I quickly ruled it out. So, moving on, having had time to consider all the various options, first off, I think it makes sense for us to rent out some of the crop land.”
“Oh… rent, not sell?”
“Yup. That way we retain the asset while gaining some valuable income. Makes a lot of sense since we don’t have the staff to farm it ourselves.”
“And you really think it could provide a solution?” I ask, tentatively hopeful.
He sighs before answering, “Look, this year’s harvest is going to be really bad. I walked the cornfields last week, and thanks in large part to neglect, there’s not going to be much of a crop. We need to act now, before winter comes and things officially go belly up, while we’re still in a position to negotiate decent contracts. Give it much longer and that won’t be the case.”
“And the bank must be paid before they foreclose and we lose everything.”
“Exactly. Which is why we need to tackle that issue head on. Present them with a formal business plan, negotiate new terms, haggle for lower repayments. Plus, I found a buyer for your old Mercedes, and managed to negotiate a decent price considering its condition, so that will give us a little respite, but we still need to move fast. So, what do you think so far?”
“You’re actually asking me?” I squeak in surprise.
“Yes, Tara. I want a do over and I really want us to work together, make all the important decisions about our future as a team. That’s what married couples do, isn’t it?” he says, taking my hand in his, squeezing it tightly.
This is exactly what I want, yet it’s exactly what I can’t have. Because he still doesn’t know everything. And when he does…
But for now, I play along by showing interest and asking him to pass me another folder. This one’s about organic farming, natural foods, all that kind of thing, about which I know little but find totally fascinating. Joel starts explaining what he thinks needs to change.
“It’s not your fault, Tara, your father never involved you in the running of the ranch, but it’s obvious to me that some of the staff—like that bastard Walter Delgado—have been taking advantage of your inexperience. Looking at the books, although I can
’t actually prove it, I’m certain he’d been stealing ranch supplies, then selling them on to line his own pocket. That’s why he had to be one of the first to go, although I’m truly sorry he took his anger at my actions out on you.”
“At least he’s locked away and paying the price now,” I interrupt when I see Joel’s anger flaring again and not wanting to open that can of worms. “So, tell me more about how you see us setting about turning things around.”
“Well, the ranch has just about been ticking along, things being done the way they always have been. No one’s been prepared to shake things up and consider taking a new direction. But now it’s crunch time. Make or break. Throw the hat in and sell up—which you’ve made clear is not your preferred option, and for the record, neither is it mine, or venture out in a new direction. Take this opportunity to turn things around, and farm in a much more ecologically sustainable way. This is the future as I see it. Valuing our environment, finding alternatives to harmful pesticides, increasing bio diversity, preventing soil erosion. We were working towards these goals on my previous ranch, but I’d really love for Redlands to go all in, work at developing a niche market in ecological and sustainable crops and produce.”
Wow. This man. I love what he’s proposing, but is it really feasible?
“Joel, this sounds amazing, but can we really handle that sort of a challenge?”
“Yeah, you know I think we can. Not saying it’ll be all plain sailing, it’ll be a hell of a lot of hard work, but I really think we could pull it off,” he grins, leaning in to brush his lips over mine.
I could so easily get distracted, but I can’t let it happen again. I have to remain focused.
“Okay, then let’s celebrate a new beginning,” I say, jumping up. “Let’s start with something to eat, since we missed dinner last night and you must be starving.”
He’s starving alright, but not for food by the look in his eye.