by Marci Bolden
As soon as the shoot wrapped for the day, he headed straight back to the house to check on Carrie and Mama. He found Carrie in the kitchen and looked behind him to make sure no one was following him into the room before letting the door swing shut behind him.
He found her staring out the back door, seemingly unaware that he’d walked into the room. Her shoulders, which she usually held back, sagged as if they held the weight of the world, and rather than a neat braid holding back her long brown hair, she’d pulled the strands into a messy bun. She hadn’t even looked at him, but he was certain she’d had a hell of a bad day.
“Hey,” he called when Carrie continued to stare out the back door. He swallowed when she jolted and spun around. He had never seen such sadness and raw desperation on the face of a person who wasn’t acting.
Her eyes were so sad, he had to physically stop himself from rushing across the room to her.
She forced a laugh as she turned her back to him. Though she was clearly trying to hide her actions, he knew she was roughly wiping at her cheeks. “You scared me. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry. Are you okay?”
She dried her hands on her jeans. “I’m fine.”
“You’re crying.”
Inhaling again, she gave him an unconvincing smile. “I’m fine, Will.”
When he’d first come to the inn, he’d had the urge to defend her. This wasn’t so different, only rather than defend her, Will wished he could solve all the problems in her life so they could sit with a glass of wine and casual banter. That wasn’t possible, however. All he could do was try to make this easier for her. “What happened?”
“Oh,” she exhaled, “the usual.” Pushing past him, she walked to the counter as she glanced at the clock and cursed. “Where did the day go? It’s almost dinnertime, and I haven’t even started anything.”
She was trying to change the subject, but he wasn’t going to back down that easily. She clearly wasn’t okay. “It must be heart-wrenching to see Doreen fading away like that.”
Carrie’s face sagged. “It isn’t easy.”
“It’s a lot of work trying to keep up with her.”
“Sometimes.” She walked to the refrigerator and scanned the menu. She looked at the clock again and laughed bitterly. “Well, I won’t be slow roasting chicken tonight, will I?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“About me? Why?”
“This is a lot for one person to handle.”
She barely acknowledged his observation. “I’m fine.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I am.”
“Carrie,” he coaxed gently.
She turned from the fridge, her gaze pleading. “What do you want me to say, Will?”
His heart broke for her, and again, he wanted to hold her and make everything right in her world. “You can start by telling me how you are doing.”
“How the hell do you think I’m doing?”
He took in the deep creases on her forehead and the puffiness of her eyes. “Not nearly as well as you’d like everyone to believe.”
“Falling apart is not an option right now.”
“Well, burying your hurt isn’t either.”
Carrie opened her mouth as if to argue with him, but after a moment, she stepped back, putting space between them. She pulled out a Dutch oven and carried it to the sink to fill with water.
Moving to her side, he looked down at her. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“What I’m thinking?” She laughed humorlessly. “I’ve spent the last two years pretending that my husband is at the grocery store.” She set the pot on a burner. “Returning insane purchases, picking her up from all over the county after she’s driven off to some place that no longer exists, if it ever did exist, but somehow her disease didn’t seem real until today.”
“The Alzheimer’s—”
“I know. I know what it does. But I’ve never really felt it. Pretending Mike is running errands, taking away her access to money, hiding the car keys, that all seemed so ordinary. Laundry? Check. Dishes? Check. Lie to Mama? Check.”
Fresh tears glimmered in her eyes before she turned toward the drawer where she’d hidden the knobs for the stove. She tried several times to get the knob in place, but it refused to fit. He moved closer, intending to help, but she cursed under her breath and slammed the plastic handle down. “I’ve read the books,” she said with a broken voice as she faced him. “I’ve done the research. I’ve talked to support groups and doctors, but nothing they said could have possibly prepared me for that.” The tears that had made her eyes shine fell down her cheeks. “Nothing could have prepared me for her not knowing who I am.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he reached out to her, no longer able to stand by without comforting her. When he wrapped her in his arms, she leaned into him and buried her face in his chest. He hugged her close and lightly kissed her head as he tried to soothe her. A sob escaped her, shaking her shoulders, and he softly whispered how sorry he was and ran his hand over her back. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this.”
She leaned back after several minutes. Wiping her cheeks dry, she inhaled deeply. “I appreciate your concern, Will, really I do, but there isn’t anything that can be done. We’ll get by for as long as we can and then…”
“What?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Let me help you,” he all but begged as he put his hand to her face and wiped her tears with his thumb. The sense of helplessness he felt was almost all-consuming. He couldn’t explain the need, but he couldn’t deny it either. He had to do something to make this easier for her.
“What can you do?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“Nothing,” she said on her breath. “There isn’t anything you can do. I really have to get dinner started.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. They do not want to be kept waiting,” she said, reminding him of what Donnie had told her that morning as she’d sat heartbroken among the guests while Mama insisted on serving breakfast alone.
“I’m taking care of dinner tonight.”
“Oh no. I told you already. You won’t be cooking in my kitchen.”
He smiled warmly. “No, I won’t. I’m ordering in. My treat.”
“Will—”
Putting his hands on her shoulders, he gently squeezed them and held her gaze. “You do not need to be taking care of all those people tonight.”
“It’s my responsibility to take care of them.”
“Not tonight. Let me do this for you. Please.”
Once again, the need to help was more than he could refuse. Ordering dinner wasn’t much, but it was something. It was one thing he could do to make her life easier.
Before she could answer, the kitchen door swung open and Donnie stopped, taking in the scene of William Walker standing intimately close to their hostess, his hands on her shoulders, before saying, “Juliet is wondering what is for dinner this evening.”
“Chinese,” Will stated. “I’m treating. Why don’t you find out what everyone wants and call it in, Donnie?”
The man’s mouth opened, but he didn’t argue with the star. “Sounds great.”
“You do eat Chinese?” Will asked Carrie.
“Sure.”
“What do you want?”
“Um, beef with broccoli. Mama and I can share.”
“I’ll have the same.” Will’s tone dismissed the location manager. When Donnie left, Will smiled down at Carrie, feeling a great sense of accomplishment. “See?” he asked, proud that he’d done something to help ease her burden. “Dinner is taken care of.”
After Donnie had been sent to order dinner, Carrie wondered if Will had any idea of the wrath his actions were going to bring down upon her. Clearly he didn’t. He thought he was helping her. So, instead of pointing out his error in judgment, she had
smiled and thanked him for looking out for her, knowing she’d deal with the fallout later.
She didn’t have to wait as long as she’d thought. She was scraping uneaten Chinese food into the trash can when the kitchen door was thrown open. Turning around, she frowned at the fury on Donnie’s face.
His jaw was set like stone as he narrowed his dark brown eyes at her. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”
Carrie lifted the dirty plate. “Cleaning up dinner.”
“William Walker is way out of your league, lady.”
She stared at him, wanting to laugh. Instead, she gave him a sweet smile. “I’ll remember that.”
“Don’t make a fool of yourself, Miss Gable.”
“Mrs. Gable.” Her tone came across far icier than she’d intended. “My husband may be dead, but I am still his wife. I am not after Will, Donnie. He saw that I had a bad day, and he was kind enough to try to make it better. There is nothing more to it than simple human kindness. I do appreciate you putting me in my place, though.”
His cold glare eased somewhat. “I am showing you human kindness by saving your dignity. You aren’t the first rural pumpkin to throw yourself at a famous actor on location, and you won’t be the last. I’m trying to save you the humiliation of rejection. He will never see you for more than what you are—an innkeeper.”
Before she could respond, he turned and marched out of the kitchen with great flair. “‘Rural pumpkin’?” she asked the empty room. “What the hell is… Oh.” She snickered. “‘Country bumpkin.’ What an idiot.”
Opening the dishwasher, she loaded the dirty dishes and cleaned up the counters before heading upstairs to check on Mama. The woman was already in her nightclothes. Carrie hesitated, wondering if she was going to have another bout of not knowing who she was. Easing into the room, she smiled, waiting to be recognized. Once she was, Carrie closed the door behind her. “Tired, Mama?”
“I don’t think I like the way that young man was looking at you over dinner tonight.” Mama walked to the bed with her knitting in her hand.
“Which one?”
“I can’t remember their names. The one giving you the evil eye.”
Carrie nodded. “Donnie. He doesn’t like that we ate with the stars tonight. He thinks we should stick to the servants’ quarters.”
Mama’s mouth fell open as she sat next to Carrie. “Did he say that?”
“Not in so many words.”
“I don’t like them. I don’t want them here.”
Carrie gave the woman a sad smile. “It’s just for a little while longer.”
“There are other places for them to stay.”
“Mama,” Carrie gently pleaded.
She was so tired of everyone trying to solve her problems. Natalie’s pressure to refuse the guests, Will’s determination to ease her stress, and now Mama’s frustration—it was all more than Carrie could deal with. She had gone into this knowing full well that it would be challenging, but she’d also understood it was the best option.
Instead of arguing, she pulled the blankets back for the woman to climb into bed. “Remind me again how many presidents have stayed here.”
Chapter 6
The moisture in the air clung to Carrie as she jogged. The sky was gray with the threat of rain, but that hadn’t been enough to dissuade her from trotting down the stairs and across the yard. The path would lead her along the perimeter of the property, around the old fields, and back again. The humidity was becoming stifling, though.
She’d worn a path long ago, back when Mama could be trusted not to burn down the house and she didn’t have guests to cater to at any moment. With most of the cast gone and Mama sufficiently alert, Carrie had some rare time for herself and a head that needed clearing, so she’d thrown on a T-shirt, shorts, and an old pair of running shoes.
The jog quickly turned into a sprint as her mind raced with the thoughts that she’d intended to escape. Memories of what Mama was like before she started forgetting things were fading, and Carrie was having a difficult time remembering the person Doreen used to be.
She used to be a bouncing ray of sunshine. She called everyone “darling” or “dear” but not in a way that sounded superficial or condescending. She said the endearment with love and admiration that made each person feel they were special to her. She could solve any problem, fix any issue, or mend a broken heart over one cup of coffee.
When Mike had died, the two women had taken turns being the strong one so the other could fall apart. No one else, not even Natalie, had seen the depth of Carrie’s grief. No one else could have possibly understood. How unfair that this rock could crumble right before her eyes.
With every step she took, Carrie’s heart raced faster and her breathing became more labored. When her mind moved on to other subjects, Will included, the sprint quickened into a run.
What was going on there? Nothing, a voice in her head insisted. He was handsome and seemed to be genuinely concerned about her and Mama, but nothing was going on. So what were those long stares all about? And why the hell did they pull her in until she couldn’t think straight?
And Juliet. What was her problem? She walked around like everyone should be grateful that she was alive. Impossible to please, never satisfied, and very content to tell everyone how they didn’t live up to her expectations. People like that had always irritated Carrie, but when that attitude came from Juliet Ramirez, Carrie felt like razors were cutting at every nerve in her body.
Like her run, the rain began at a calm, steady pace that quickly became faster. Puddles began to form, splashing dirt onto Carrie’s ankles and calves as she stepped in them. She didn’t notice the water that soaked her socks through the mesh sides of her shoes or the clothes that began to cling to her skin. She put all her energy into escaping her thoughts, even though they kept coming after her.
Moving down the path, Carrie was going as fast as her legs could carry her, her fury being beaten out with every step she took until a bright flash of lightning and a sharp crack of thunder snapped her out of the daze she was in. Slowing to a trot, Carrie finally felt the ache in the lungs that were lacking sufficient air intake and the heart that was pounding in her chest to keep up with the demands of her muscles.
Coming to a stop, she hunched over and put her hands on her knees, gasping for air as raindrops and sweat mixed into beads that fell from the tip of her nose.
“Hey.” Will trotted to her and bent over in much the same way. “Man, you’re fast.”
She stared at him, taking a few seconds to find her voice. “What are you doing?”
“I wanted to join you for your run. I didn’t realize what I was getting into. Hold on.” He took a few more breaths, forcing them slower and deeper into his lungs.
Carrie focused on the darkening sky when thunder rumbled again. “We should head back before the weather gets worse.”
“Wait.” He gently grasped her arm when she took a step, stopping her from walking away. “You’ve been avoiding me since dinner two nights ago. Why?”
“I haven’t—”
“Was it Donnie or Juliet?”
Carrie debated whether to answer and what kind of hell she’d have to pay if she did. However, looking at Will, she saw the fire in his eyes and knew there would be hell whether she answered him or not. She decided she’d much rather have some egotistical greasy-haired location manager mad at her than Will.
“Donnie valiantly swooped in to save my pride by informing me that I’m not the first—how’d he put it?—‘rural pumpkin’ to throw herself at you, and I won’t be the last.”
“Rural pumpkin?”
“I think he meant ‘country bumpkin,’” she said.
Will nodded, but then he narrowed his eyes. “Donnie’s an ass. He’s looking out for his investment in this movie, nothing more.”
“How does our”—she struggled for the word—“friendship impact his movie?”
“The thing about achieving even the slightest bit
of success in LA is, you convince yourself everyone else wants to be you. I’m sure that in his mind, you are trying to use me to wriggle your way into his world.”
“Fat chance.” She laughed. “My life is exciting enough, thank you very much.”
“He has no say in what I do, Carrie. He doesn’t dictate my life. If I want to befriend some bumpkin, that’s my choice.”
She chuckled when he used the term that she had rolled over and over in her mind. “Will, please, I want to get through these next months with as little turmoil as possible. So far, that seems like an insurmountable feat, so I’d like to cause as few ripples as possible.”
“That’s fine, but I am going to let him know that I won’t have him sticking his nose in my business. Whatever happens between you and me is between you and me and nobody else.”
She looked up at him, searching his face for the meaning of his words, but his gaze was still hard with anger. The thunder rumbling again gave her a reason to look away, and she took it, turning her face up at the dark clouds.
“We better get back before this breaks.” She didn’t wait for his response before heading back toward the house.
With another flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder, the steady downfall turned into a pouring rain. Big, heavy drops surrounded them with a loud drumming. They were running, side by side and soaking wet, when Carrie called out over the sound of the rain for Will to follow her as she veered off to the right.
The trek was more difficult, more uneven than the beaten path they’d been following back to the house, but they trotted along until Carrie pointed out a small building that had been built many years ago to house one of the various farm workers.
Until recently, the building had been run-down and full of old tools and cobwebs. The producers had brought in a crew to refurbish it for one of the scenes they were filming in the coming weeks. Instead of being filled with dust and old junk, the small cabin had a fresh coat of white paint and usable furniture.