Rose quickly rallied the boys and got things in order. After a friendly hug for each of the boys, she led them into her big, red barn that she was so proud of, letting them choose the horses they wanted to ride.
Jake and Wes carefully got each boy’s choice of horse saddled and the boys mounted up. Wes looked curiously to Buttercup as he mounted his horse. “You riding, Buttercup?”
“I was thinking I might head up to the house and chat with Carrie for a bit instead, if that’s all right.”
Throwing her a curious stare, Jake asked, “You sure you don’t want to ride?”
“I’m sure.”
Wes said, “Well, I’m sure Carrie would love the company. And the help in the kitchen cooking breakfast for all these young ones.”
“All right then. Be good, boys,” she called over her shoulder as she headed up to the big ranch house.
Feeling Jake’s gaze on her back as she walked away, Buttercup looked over her shoulder, blowing him a kiss. Might as well give the boys something to tease him about on their ride.
Catching the kiss in midair, dramatically on top of his steed, Buttercup laughed as Jake placed the kiss over his heart. With a great “Hiya” he was off, three Stevenson boys right on his heels.
Knocking timidly on the back-kitchen door, Buttercup hoped she wasn’t disturbing Carrie. Carrie had a bubbly personality and always seemed like she preferred company with a ‘more the merrier’ attitude. But she was showing up unannounced…
The door flung open interrupting her worried thoughts. There was Carrie, her golden curls stacked haphazardly on top of her head, wearing a red apron that said, ‘Santa’s little helper’.
“Buttercup!” she exclaimed, opening the screen door and pulling Buttercup into a tight squeeze. “I am so glad to see you. I get so lonely sometimes since Mama left. I think she has herself a boyfriend. Did Jessica tell you? She never calls Friday and Saturday night, always saying she’s at bingo. Come in, Come in!”
“You like to cook?” Carrie ushered Buttercup into the warm kitchen. Grabbing a pink frilly apron off a peg on the wall, she handed it to Buttercup. Not waiting for an answer to her question, Carrie handed Buttercup a spatula of her own.
“I like to help,” Buttercup said, trying to be honest without hurting Carrie’s feelings. When one is responsible for making all their own meals from an early age, liking to cook was impossible for her. But she was always happy to pitch in and that was the truth.
Carrie’s excited chatter and upbeat personality was exactly what Buttercup needed right now. Following her directions to the T—only stopping working occasionally to rub her bleary eyes, Buttercup helped Carrie cook three pounds of crispy bacon, two dozen pancakes that were warming in the oven, and mixed up a dozen eggs ready to scramble when the crew returned.
“Whew,” Carrie said, pulling off her apron. “We have a few minutes before they get back. Let’s have a quiet cup of coffee together.”
Carrie handed Buttercup a warm mug of light brown coffee, having mixed in plenty of cream and sugar knowing Buttercup didn’t often drink coffee.
Sitting down side by side on the couch, Carrie took a sip of her coffee, then laid her big brown eyes on Buttercup. She demanded, “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“What do you mean? I was just coming up here to help.”
Chuckling, Carrie said, “You’re gonna have to lose that habit of white lying if you’re gonna keep your bottom comfy around Jake Hargett.”
Her face burning, Buttercup hid it behind her mug, taking a sip of the sweet, creamy brew. “You know?”
“Know what? That Jake Hargett has been over the moon for you since he was a wee thing spinning disks at Jessica’s wedding? That he’s a spanking man? That you are here because you want to talk to me about having a taken in hand relationship?” Carrie’s eyes twinkled in such a way that Buttercup’s nerves dissipated.
Giving a very non-Buttercup girly giggle, she said, “Yes, yes, and yes. I guess you sussed me out. It’s all just so new to me and I’ve seen the way…”
Her words trailed off, her gaze leaving Carrie’s face and hiding in her mug.
“Wes takes me in hand?” Carrie asked softly.
“Yes.”
“And that appealed to you?”
“Yes.”
“Then you are with the right man, Miss Buttercup. Jake will take just as good care of you as Wes does of me. And your brother does of Jessica for that matter. But I’m guessing you’re in my kitchen because as much as you love Jessica it might be easier to have the tough conversations with a woman who isn’t married to your brother. Am I right?”
“Yes,” she admitted shyly. “It would be a little less…”
“Awkward?”
“Yes.”
Looking at the clock, Carrie said, “Okay, girl, we only have fifteen minutes and I detect that you are shy, so you are going to have to break out of that shell of yours and get right down to the nitty gritty questions you have for me.” With that, Carrie put her cup down on the coffee table with a little slam.
Taking a deep breath, Buttercup asked the first of her most pressing questions. “Is there ever a time where you don’t want to be spanked, but you get spanked anyway? Or can you say, no?”
“Yes. I have gotten spanked before when I didn’t want to or didn’t think it was fair. But over time you will respect your man for his consistency. And, no, once you sign up for this lifestyle, there is no saying no to it.” Carrie looked off into the distance before continuing. “But sometimes life circumstances will come up that might put the lifestyle on hold. Sometimes even for a long time.”
“Is it embarrassing? Do people know that you get spanked by your husband?”
“I will tell you the one time I was incredibly embarrassed. It was when my father asked Wes outright if he spanked me. I had to sit there in the chair next to my dad while Wes explained our whole relationship to him. But even though I was embarrassed at the time, afterwards I was glad it was out there. And Wes had explained it so beautifully, I felt my dad understood us better. I don’t really keep secrets—it’s nearly impossible for me. And gets me in trouble quite a bit. But I know that I am the only one of Jess’ friends who knows what type of relationship she is in. So, you can keep it discreet if you want. But you know you will at least always have me and Jess to talk to about it.”
“Does it always hurt? Last night, um, well, it only hurt a little. It was more like Jake was just trying to get my attention than punish me really.”
“Oh, girl. There are so many types of spankings. And some of them will have you unable to sit down for days while there are other kinds that will have you squirming and burning for your man. There is the classic you’re being naughty spanking, the you are in serious trouble punishment spanking and then, there are your playful spanks, your pop on the butts, the sexy spanks…”
The sound of clomping boots could suddenly be heard all the way in the living room. Buttercup willed the pink to leave her cheeks before she saw Jake, lest he guess exactly what she had been talking to Carrie about.
“Oh shoot, they are already back and here I was hoping to chat with you longer. You have my number and my address if you ever, ever need me for anything, Buttercup, I’m here for you.” Grabbing Buttercup’s hand Carrie gave it a gentle squeeze before popping up from the couch to greet the hungry cowpokes.
Chapter 6
Wes had not dreamed of his wife’s death since the first night of their trip. He was addicted to the peaceful sleep as some are addicted to the well-being feeling they get from alcohol. He needed to be sure it would not leave him, that the dream would not return. And so, the weekend after Jessica and Ray’s party, Wes had scheduled another get away.
Carrie was delighted the first time he came to her and told her the news that they would be going away again so soon after their last escapade. She had giddily packed her goodies from ‘Naughty’, into her overnight bag. They had a wonderful time, almost as good as t
he first. And the dream had remained at bay. Over time the circles disappeared from under his eyes and Wes knew he had found his medicine.
The following weekend when he asked her, she gave him a strange look, but acquiesced, this time packing with less enthusiasm. That trip had been fun, but after the first night they were both ready to go home and see Rose.
The fourth weekend in less than two months he asked her to go, she shook her head. Planting her feet firmly and placing her hands on her hips, she said, “No, Wes. I want to be here on the ranch for the weekend. Buttercup and Jake are bringing the boys over to ride Saturday. I love my little coffee talks with Buttercup and I miss Rose when we go.”
Softening her voice, she ran her hands through Wes’ tumble of sandy waves. “I am so glad for our little getaways but really, we have a life here we need to be here for.”
Wes felt the fear grip at his heart. He had no other way to keep the dream from coming. It had been weeks since he had woken in sweat drenched sheets, his heart pounding, tears in his eyes. He just couldn’t risk it happening again.
“Just one night then, Carrie. Twenty-four hours.”
Looking over her husband’s furrowed brow, she asked gently, “Weston, I have to say I felt this invitation coming. Is this about what I think it is about?”
Running his hand through his long sandy hair, Wes gave a deep sigh. If there was one thing in this world he hated, it was to appear weak to the people who he was supposed to be strong for. A rock. Never wavering.
As if reading his mind, as spouses who have been married to each other over a decade often do, Carrie placed one of her small hands on each side of his face. “Is this about the dream? You haven’t had it…” Carries eyes narrowed, “since that first time we went away. Right? Is that what this is about?”
Considering those big brown eyes, he came clean. “Yes.”
“You think the trips are what keeps the nightmares from coming?”
He gave a nod. It sounded ridiculous when she spoke it aloud, but truth is truth.
Giving him a sad smile, Carrie ran her hand over his cheek, then leaned her head onto his chest. As they always did when she was near, Wes’ arms instantly wrapped tightly around his wife. Burying his face in her soft curls, he inhaled her scent. A mix of the elixir that was Carrie, and her sweet vanilla perfume.
When she pulled away, her smile was no longer sad. Her brown eyes were determined, her jaw set as it did when Wes knew she had decided something and wasn’t going to give up until she got her way.
“Let me ask you a few questions. Just answer yes or no.”
“Okay.” He wrapped his hands around her waist. By reading the look on her face he knew he was not going to want to hear what she was about to say. He was better able to listen if he was touching her in some capacity.
“Are you feeling overwhelmed with all you have to deal with in your life?”
“No.” Busy, yes. Overwhelmed by his life, no. He loved every aspect of his life except for this damn dream and the anxiety it brought him.
“Do you sometimes worry over the smallest things, but are unable to turn off these thoughts?”
The feeling of dread every time Carrie left the ranch, fearing something terrible would happen to her? That he worried over every doctor checkup fearful she would be dying of some unknown disease? If she didn’t answer her phone, she was lying, pale and weak in a hospital bed? He had never admitted these secrets to anyone, the incessant worry, the beating of his heart when Carrie was late to come home.
He whispered his answer, “Yes.”
“Do you feel stuck & unsure what to do to make things better?”
Going away every single weekend wasn’t a real option. The truth was Wes probably missed the ranch, Rose and the boys even more than Carrie when they had gone on their little jaunts. And he was completely unsure how to make the dreams stop.
Again, he answered, “Yes.”
“Are you feeling alone and disconnected, finding your most important relationship—difficult?”
He could not meet her eye. His hands remained around her waist, but his eyes drifted to the toes of his boots. The admission was painful. He was supposed to be her rock, her sword, her shield. But it was one word and he had to say it. “Yes.”
“Look at me, Wes.”
Her warm eyes gazed into his. There was an eternal love there and he could feel his wife’s complete acceptance of him—exactly how he was. As weak as he was in this moment.
“I love you and we are going to get through this together. Do you understand me?” she demanded, the softness gone and the flash of determination returning to her chocolate eyes. “Now, when I needed a doctor, you took me to one. You would never take no for an answer. And you were by my side every single time I was sick, making me well. And now, I will do the same for you. And you will let me help you.”
His role had always been to be the fixer of the problems. The man to take over the ranch when his father dies. To take care of his mama. To be Kevin’s father figure until he lost the poor boy. The big brother of the alcoholic. To get his wife through ordeal after ordeal alive. One more answer and Wes would be free.
“Yes. I need help, Carrie.”
“Good. I’ll make an appointment tomorrow morning at nine. Can’t wait.”
Before he could respond in protest, Carrie was up on her tippy-toes kissing him in a way that melted his anxiety and stopped the worry from entering his mind.
“How long have you been studying up on this?” Wes asked as he looked around the waiting room of the Better Life Family Counseling office.
“Months. I just had to figure out a way to get you here. Then the dreams stopped for a while, so I thought we could put it off. I visited the website so many times that I had those four questions memorized. Answering yes to three out of four makes you a great candidate for psychotherapy.”
“But what is psychotherapy?” Wes asked. His eyes glanced around the pale blue room. None of the patients were wrapped in strait jackets. They all looked—normal. There were even a couple of sweet little kids in the waiting room. Behind the big door that led to the exam rooms, Wes pictured shock therapy machines, arm and leg straps, a doctor in a white lab coat with a crazy look in his eyes, holding a giant needle over Wes.
“Their psychologist creates a safe, open and nurturing psychotherapy space where people feel accepted and understood. They help people get unstuck, feel less stressed and overwhelmed and get their lives back on track. They listen so you feel understood, so you don't feel alone in whatever you are going through. They care about making people's lives better.”
“Carrie—did you memorize that from the website, too?”
Giving a sheepish shrug, she admitted, “Yes. I don’t actually know what it is exactly, per se… but doesn’t it sound great?”
Wes wanted to bolt from his chair, grabbing Carrie and flying to the truck. One glance at her pleading eyes kept him firmly planted in his seat.
“Okay, baby. I’ll give anything a try, for you.”
The smile that lit up her face almost took away all his worry about the hideous doctor who he knew was waiting for him behind that door.
The woman who finally opened the door and called, “Weston,” was not at all what he was expecting. In her late sixties, she wore a soft lavender sweater and small brown glasses. Her gray hair curled prettily by her shoulders. And the warm smile on her face reminded him of Ma’s.
Throwing Carrie one more reluctant look, he absorbed her reassuring smile.
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” she said with a wink.
Turning back to the kind looking woman, he made his way to the door.
Reaching out, she spoke softly, “I’m Meg. It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Weston.”
“You too, ma’am,” he said as he shook her hand.
“Just Meg, honey. This way.”
She led him down a soft blue hall to her office. Decorated much like his mother’s living room, Wes took a seat in one of the
worn leather chairs. Meg sat across from him.
Giving him a friendly gaze, her voice almost a whisper, she asked him, “Do you have any questions for me before we begin, Weston?”
“Just one, I guess.” Wes cleared his throat. “What is psychotherapy, exactly.”
“That’s a wonderful place to start. The word, psychotherapy, makes one think of unpleasant images. Strait jackets, shock therapy, things of that nature, doesn’t it?”
Wes gave a chuckle. “I may have let my imagination get away with me in the waiting room.”
“Let me assure you, that is perfectly natural, especially when trying something new that might be outside of your comfort zone. I prefer to use the term, talk therapy. My method of counseling, is just that. To talk to you. That’s all we are going to do here in this room. And what we discuss won’t leave the room unless you choose to share our discussion with someone.”
“That sounds—doable.”
“During talk therapy, you learn about your condition and your moods, feelings, thoughts and behaviors. I can help you learn how to take control of your life and respond to challenging situations with healthy coping skills. Does that sound like something you would like to proceed with?”
“Yes. I think I can manage.”
“Great. Would you like some tea?”
Taking a glass from Meg, Wes relaxed further in his chair. This was almost as good as talking to Mama.
After only a few sessions, the nightmare had been kept at bay. Wes felt a lightness he hadn’t in years. Possibly since he and Carrie had first begun dating. Meg had helped him see that he placed the weight of the world and any unforeseeable issue onto his own shoulders. When the only thing he really had control over was his own actions.
With the anxiety diminishing, Wes found himself smiling frequently, laughing at all of Rose’s silly jokes, and able to fully love Carrie well, without constantly being in fear for her safety.
Carrie had finally, after ten years, been able to return to her job at the little Poke Town school house. After her initial time there teaching, the town had been so pleased with the program, the county had worked to find the funding to support it as a new base school.
Texas Daddy (Sweet Texas Love Book 4) Page 9