The Interpreter

by RaeAnne Thayne

  Though just about every other good and decent thing had been pounded out of him over the last decade, that spark still flickered and danced inside him.

  He didn’t know if he could do it, but he sure as hell was going to try. Raising horses seemed so clean and straightforward. Honorable. If he succeeded, he would have something decent and good he could leave to Charlie and Miriam.

  He glanced across the truck cab at the two of them. Charlie was asleep, his head cushioned on Mason’s folded denim jacket. Miriam sat beside him, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes gazing straight ahead.

  How was he supposed to reach past that unnatural poise of hers to the grieving child within? he wondered.

  “So do you think we made a good buy today?”

  She seemed surprised he would ask her opinion and just gazed at him in confusion until he gestured over his shoulder toward the horse trailer.

  “Unforgettable back there. What do you think of him?”

  She tilted her head, considering. “He is very pretty,” she finally said with all the seriousness of an oracle making a solemn pronouncement.

  He had to smile. The horse was from champion cutting stock, with a sire who’d won the PRCA finals. Pretty didn’t begin to cover it. “I hope the ladies think so.”

  “The lady horses, you mean?”

  “Yeah. That’s right.” He tried to come up with the Tagalog word but his command of the language was far from fluent. Maybe Jane would know, he thought, then was annoyed with himself for thinking of her yet again when he’d vowed to put her from his mind.

  “Mare is the English word for lady horse.”

  She repeated it with the same solemn care she gave everything, from setting silverware on the table at dinner time to picking out a candy bar at the grocery store.

  He so wanted her to be spontaneous and fun, to enjoy life. He had really heartbreaking memories of seeing her with her mother and father back in the Philippines. Samuel had done his best to keep his children separate from his clandestine dealings with Mason, but he had bumped into the family once at the market.

  Miriam had been a little shy at first around a tall American stranger, but she had warmed up enough to give him a smile. Before they parted company, she’d been giggling and laughing like any other nine-year-old girl.

  She didn’t laugh anymore. Her childhood was one more casualty of the car bombing that had killed Samuel and Lianne.

  Mason sighed, thinking how far he had to go to help these children. Every time he thought they were making progress toward normalcy, reality slapped him hard in the face.

  Today had been a classic example. Trent Saunders, the man he’d bought the stud from, had a daughter close to Miriam’s age. Mason had hoped when he saw the other girl trailing Saunders to the barn that Miriam might find a new friend in her.

  Maybe if Miriam could spend a little time around someone her own age, she might remember to relax and smile a bit and maybe even learn to laugh again.

  But Miriam had only clutched Charlie’s hand tighter, gazing at the other girl out of those wise eyes of hers until Becca Saunders gave up and wandered away.

  “Becca seemed nice,” he said now, striving for optimism. “Maybe we could have her over sometime.”

  Miriam frowned. “Have her over what?”

  “Over to the ranch.”

  “Why?” She looked genuinely confused.

  “To hang out. You know. Spend a little time together. You could play dolls or fix your hair or listen to music or whatever girls your age do.”

  She didn’t say anything, only gave him that solemn look, and he wondered if any man had ever been less prepared to parent a nine-year-old girl than he was.

  He turned his attention back to the road. He sucked at this whole parenting thing. What was he thinking even to consider bringing two orphans home with him? What the hell did he know about little girls or little boys, other than he’d been one of the latter decades ago?

  Nothing in his life had prepared him for how tough and unrelenting this was.

  He hadn’t had a choice, he reminded himself. Samuel had been an orphan himself and Lianne’s family—wealthy factory owners in the Luzon region—had disowned her after her marriage to him.

  With no extended family to take Charlie and Miriam, Mason had known their future would be a grim one, shoved into some overcrowded, less-than-clean Philippine orphanage until they were considered old enough to fend for themselves.

  He couldn’t let that happen.

  Samuel and Lianne had given their lives for what they believed. The least he could do was give their children the best possible future, the kind of future their parents had dreamed of for them, in a world made a little better, a little more safe through their efforts.

  He supported the idea in concept—hell, hadn’t he thrown his career to the dogs and spent weeks greasing the palm of every two-bit bureaucrat he could find to bring the kids to the States?—but the reality of fatherhood was a brutal kick in the teeth.

  They would work their way through, he reminded himself. They had to. He refused to consider any other alternative. These kids needed a home and in some obscure way he was only just beginning to recognize, he was the one who needed to give it to them.

  Charlie woke as they drove up the gravel driveway toward the ranch house.

  “We are home already?” he asked sleepily.

  Mason tried to take heart from the boy’s rather disoriented question. At least Charlie considered the ranch home, even if Miriam still hadn’t unpacked her suitcase.

  “Time flies when you’re having good dreams, right?”

  Charlie giggled. “I dreamed of a tiny horse in my pocket,” he said in Tagalog. “I took it to the ice-cream store and it stood on the table and ate from my cone and then we went to the park and I pushed him down the slide.”

  Mason thought about telling him to speak English but decided it wasn’t worth interrupting the dream narrative.

  “What color was the horse?” he asked instead.

  Charlie giggled again. “Purple with white spots. He could talk and I called him Kabayo.”

  Horse in Tagalog. Mason grinned as Charlie chattered for the remaining half-mile with more adventures he and his pocket pony named Kabayo had together.

  “Excuse me,” Miriam interrupted them in English as they drove past the ranch house on the way to the barn to drop off the new stud. “Is that not Jane on your ladder? Do you think she is needing help?”

  He followed the direction of the girl’s pointing finger and only managed to swallow a particularly vile curse at the last minute when he caught sight of Charlie watching, his big eyes curious. The kid soaked up every word like he was SpongeBob himself. Mason could just imagine how Pam would strip his ears if she heard Charlie repeating his raw epithet.

  Mason’s hands clenched on the steering wheel. What was the woman up to now?

  Two days after sustaining a serious head injury, she teetered on the second-to-the-top rung of his father’s rickety eighteen-foot ladder, her hand outstretched as she scrubbed years of grime from one of the second-floor windows.

  He had an instant vivid mental image of watching helplessly while she overextended her reach and tumbled to the ground. With his luck, she would break both of her legs and he would be saddled with those big blue eyes and that sexy British voice for the next six months or more.

  The woman needed a damn keeper—and not a burned-out ex-spy with two kids to take care of already.

  With his heart in his throat and frustrated anger burning a hole in his gut, Mason shoved the truck into Park and ordered the kids to stay put, even though he knew perfectly well they would ignore him.

  Mad at the world, he stalked over to her.

  “Get down from there,” he snapped harshly. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  His heart seemed to sink from his throat to his stomach when she jerked in surprise.

  In a grim instant replay of his vivid image of a few moments before, on
e foot slipped off the rung and she teetered eighteen feet up in the air, scrambling wildly for purchase.

  Chapter 9

  Jane dug the nails of one hand into the window frame to keep her balance while she clung tightly to the ladder with the other.

  Adrenaline spurted through her as she looked down at Mason glowering up at her. He looked dark and dangerous, a furious archangel in a dusty black cowboy hat.

  As she studied him, she couldn’t help wondering if she might be safer staying here atop this rickety ladder than taking her chances with him down on the ground.

  No. She drew back her shoulders. She wasn’t about to let some arrogant cowpoke with a white-knight complex intimidate her.

  Her knuckles cracked as she released her hold on the window frame. She tried for a casual wave but she was very much afraid it came out more like a peculiar five-fingered spasm.

  “Hello,” she called down in what she hoped was a chipper tone.

  Mason continued to glower at her. “Get down from there before you break your fool neck.”

  “I’m almost finished. I just have one more corner to do here.”

  “You’re not a maid,” he snapped. “Get down. Now.”

  “I’ve already sprayed it with cleaner, I only have to wipe it dry now. It would be foolish to leave it when I’m this close to being done.”

  She put action to words and reached as high as she could to the top right corner of the grimy window, trying to ignore the little clutch in her stomach as the ladder seemed to sway.

  “Come on, Jane. Move it.”

  She defied him only for the thirty seconds it took to finish the job then she climbed down the ladder with slow deliberation. He grabbed her and bodily lifted her off the last few rungs to the ground, then turned her around to face him.

  “What were you thinking?” he asked, giving her a little shake. “You’re two days off a head injury and here you are climbing an eighteen-foot ladder that was ancient and wobbly twenty years ago. That bump on your head must have rattled your brain more than I thought.”

  She frowned, annoyed at his tone even as she admitted tiny tremors radiated from her arms where he held her.

  “I was simply trying to help. Pam had a great deal to do today and I was doing nothing so I thought to absorb some of her load.”

  He made a face and released her. “Fine. You could always do a little dusting inside or wash the dishes. You certainly don’t need to be up on some eighteen-foot ladder washing my dirty windows. Somehow I don’t think that’s exactly what Lauren had in mind when she suggested you take it easy for a few days.”

  “I didn’t start out on the ladder. I was to do the ground-floor windows but once I finished them, I decided, why stop there? Anyway, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be up on a ladder. I feel fine. Great, actually.”

  Except for the butterflies zinging through her whenever he touched her, but she decided perhaps she ought not to mention that little detail.

  He studied her closely, until those butterflies started flitting like mad under that silver-eyed scrutiny. “Any memories come flooding back while we were gone?” he asked.

  “None, I’m afraid. My rattled brain is still as empty as a village pub on Sunday morning.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I figured that part out the moment I saw you up on that ladder.”

  His wry tone surprised a laugh out of her and she lifted smiling eyes to his. As soon as she did, her laugh died abruptly. Something about his expression sent those butterflies into manic paroxysms.

  She swallowed, aware of a low heat uncoiling inside her. Their gazes held for several seconds and she noted that he looked as unnerved as she felt by the sudden tension buzzing between them.

  Before she could think of what to say, the children jumped from the truck with a slamming of doors and hurried over to them.

  “Jane! Jane! Guess what? Guess what?” Charlie tugged on her jeans, his funny little face alight with excitement.

  She couldn’t help smiling, totally charmed by these sweet children. “Hmm. Let me think. Ah, I have it. You brought back an elephant in your caravan there and you’re set to name him Frederick?”

  Charlie giggled and even Miriam hid a small smile behind her graceful hand.

  “No, silly!” Charlie said, still in clear English, she was thrilled to notice. “No elephants live in America.”

  He frowned, then turned to Mason for confirmation. “Is that not right?”

  “There aren’t any elephants running wild, maybe, but you can find some in zoos and circuses.” Mason repeated the latter few words in Tagalog when Charlie looked confused.

  “If not elephants, what do you have in there?” Jane asked.

  “A horse. A big one,” Miriam answered, her eyes wide and her usually solemn features lit up like it was Christmas morning.

  Jane smiled at her. “Is he now? What’s his name?”

  “Unforgettable. He’s a stud and very pretty. We are hoping the lady horses will like him, right, Mason?”

  Jane shifted her gaze to him and found him looking rather stunned by Miriam’s excitement.

  He cleared his throat and ran a big hand over the girl’s hair in a tender gesture that made Jane feel absurdly like weeping.

  “Exactly,” he murmured.

  “I’m sure he’ll make all the lady horses swoon.” Through the emotion in her throat, Jane smiled at Miriam, then suddenly remembered she was to discourage their friendship. During the delightful day spent visiting with Pam and helping her clean, she’d forgotten.

  Though it broke her heart, she forced her features into a cool expression. “I suppose I’d best put the ladder away and let you get on, then.”

  She turned away to do just that but Mason’s outstretched arm stopped her.

  “I can get the ladder later,” he said, his voice slightly gruff. “Why don’t you come down to the barn with us and help us unload him and show him around his new place?”

  Jane turned, stunned by his words and sensing the offer was more than just an invitation to see the new stud. He was actually encouraging her to spend more time with his children.

  Where was this coming from? she wondered, but she decided not to question him. Better just to enjoy the unexpected opportunity.

  “Yes! Absolutely.”

  She left her rag and window cleaner by the ladder and climbed into the truck with the three of them for the ride down to the horse barn, perhaps a hundred yards from the house.

  “What kind of horse is Unforgettable?” she asked on the way.

  “American quarter horse, champion cutting stock. I’d like to set up a breeding and training operation with him.”

  At the barn, Mason backed the horse trailer until it butted against a chute. He instructed her and the children to stand out of the way by the railing of a paddock—corral, he called it—while he unloaded the horse from the trailer.

  A moment later, he opened the door of the horse trailer and led out a beautiful buckskin stallion with black points and a saucy saunter. The animal whinnied, then stretched and trotted around the corral, obviously glad to be free of his metal confines.

  She leaned on the railing, her heart beating a little faster at the sight of such a magnificent animal. Mason stood some distance away inside the paddock, letting the horse become familiar with his scent and his presence, and her attention shifted to him.

  The afternoon sun shone warm and appealing, gilding both man and beast, and Jane couldn’t seem to look away.

  “Is he not pretty?” Miriam asked.

  Jane swallowed, her eyes never leaving Mason. “Oh, indeed,” she murmured. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

  Heat soaked her cheeks as soon as she heard her own words and she could only be supremely grateful the young girl likely wouldn’t understand the reason for it, even if she should happen to notice Jane’s heightened color and slightly uneven breathing.

  The horse cantered around the paddock for a few moments. As he explored his surroundings, he str
etched long, elegant legs, tossing his dark mane like a teenager in a rock-and-roll band, she thought with amusement.

  Soon he extended his curiousity to his audience. He moved in their direction, nostrils flaring as he sniffed them. The children squealed a little and stepped back from the fence but Jane stood her ground, delighted with the magnificent animal.

  “You are a handsome devil, aren’t you?” she crooned, reaching out to pat neck and withers the color of sun-warmed caramel. “You’re full of sauce and ready to run.”

  The horse whickered as if in agreement, and Jane laughed and patted him again before he cantered away.

  “You’ve been around horses.”

  She shifted her attention from the horse to Mason, who stood watching her with a narrowed gaze and a considering look in his eyes.

  She laughed a little at his confidence. “How would you possibly know that?”

  “You weren’t afraid of him.”

  “Why would I be? Oh, he’s got plenty of energy but he seems friendly enough.”

  “Most people who haven’t been around horses much tend to be intimidated at first by their size and unpredictability. You reached right out to greet him.”

  Touching the horse had seemed natural, instinctive, she thought. Like patting a dog or stroking a kitten. She wasn’t sure why but she would take Mason’s word for it that she had experience.

  “We can know for sure.”

  “How?” she asked warily.

  “We can put you up on a horse, see how you go. It might help unlock some of those memories in your brain.”

  Jane eyed the stallion, still trotting across the corral, mane and tail flying. He looked awfully big all of a sudden. “I don’t know…”

  “I’ve got a mare who’s pretty gentle. I picked her up last week so I could try to get the kids in the saddle. Maybe if they see you giving it a go, they won’t be so nervous around her. You game?”

  She couldn’t back down now. She swallowed, avoiding another peek at the large animal in the corral. “Certainly.”