Cavanaugh

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Cavanaugh Page 11

by Jody Kaye


  She’d closed her eyes and they fluttered open at the hesitant last tug on her bottom lip. Ross’s pupils dilated even more in the darkness and had now all but disappeared. The hand on her neck moved, ensconcing hers as it fell onto Rose’s lap. Ross leaned his forehead against hers.

  “This can’t happen again. Don’t get me wrong, Rose. I like you. You’re a pretty girl, but right now I work for you. Taking our friendship further is a bad idea.”

  She swallowed. “I’m glad you said that. To know where we stand. I shouldn’t have.”

  “Oh, no. It wasn’t all you. I got carried away too.” He sat back in the seat, gripping the steering wheel for dear life.

  “Lily Anne and all. I mean them getting married.”

  Ross agreed. It was great for Rodger and Lil, but the engagement highlighted her own singleness. It wasn’t a far leap to covet that kind of happiness and search out someone to find it with.

  “I’ll be by with those papers for you to sign tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be here… If I’m not I’ll leave the deposit check with Benita. But I’ll be here… I was planning on being here. To ah, help Lil pack.”

  Rose decided then and there that she’d answer the door and act as if this never happened. It was not going to be weird between them. He’d forgiven her poor judgment twice now so she’d forgive his. All she had to do was convince her heart that kissing Ross was a mistake.

  “Ross? Ro—” The rest of his name was not going to make it out of Rose’s mouth.

  She’d never gone to bed last night and decided to check on the progress at the stable, hoping that if she was up with the crows that he’d still be here before leaving to meet the crew working on a housing development closer to town.

  True to her word, Rose had greeted Ross the next day to ensure he got the money he needed to get started. The building permits had taken longer than expected. The fall was well upon them. At every delay, Ross got in his truck and came to Kingsbrier to tell her in person. It seemed as if there was one each week for a month. After the first, she’d stopped trying to pretend she was disappointed. Rose accepted any reason to see Ross at Kingsbrier. Lily Anne was back in Georgia. Rodger was studying. Right now, Ross was her only friend with the exception of Benita, who Eric paid to like her. Although, Rose hemmed and hawed over if Ross got paid to as well.

  She’d grown more lonely and bored, contemplating continuing her schooling; but what was the sense in that? She had no use for the degree she’d earned. Her skills languished. Even the errant papers that Eric left haphazard on his desk were now gone. He’d become mistrustful.

  Yesterday, Rose attended a Ladies League meeting. Her momma loved the local Ladies League. Rose remembered being in awe of their sophistication when they spoke of volunteering in the community. The stream of women into Kingsbrier, admiring the lovely touches that Joy added to the decorating, was continuous. They came for tea, to planning events or because they were on good terms with Joy, who enjoyed their company.

  Rose considered that she may find common ground with someone. But to her chagrin, after the president read the meeting minutes, the white-gloved girls her age talked about weddings and babies and the older women asked her if she planned to get married and how many babies she wanted.

  Rose stuffed three pieces of pie in her face during refreshments, chasing it with two glasses of sweet tea. On the way home, she stopped at the bakery for a half-dozen donuts and had eaten them all by the end of the day. The sugar-high left Rose wide awake during twilight hours contemplating how Lily Anne never pushed her to do the same things as she did to remain friends. She didn’t give a hoot if Rose didn’t have a beau.

  Conversations with Ross were similar. He wasn’t interested in knowing how many babies Rose wanted. Heck, she didn’t know that herself. One was likely a good start for someone who knew nothing about children. It took her mother thirteen years to decide to have another child so parenthood couldn’t be everything it was cracked up to be. But again, Ross didn’t care one iota to participate in a discussion over whether Rose wanted a boy versus a girl.

  The October air was chilly this morning. The sun peeked over the horizon and the ground hissed a silent steamy white. Rose dressed in a pair of jeans, hiding the designer logo on the back pocket under a long cable knit sweater. She’d piled her hair on the top of her head trying to look casual when she’d been gunning to get here as soon as the idea popped into her head at four a.m.

  Pulling her convertible into the barnyard, Rose spied Ross’s beater immediately. Searching for Ross, she got out of the car holding onto the canvas top secured to the windshield clips. There were no sounds of another soul around and she’d slammed the door loud enough to let Ross know someone else was there.

  A slight shuffle in the trees got her attention. Rose walked in that direction and pushed back a branch. It was seeing Ross’s naked behind that caused her throat to close up. His pants slipped up, covering his hips. She swallowed, settling her heart rate by inhaling through her nose and blowing out through her mouth. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen an unclothed male posterior in the flesh before. The airbrushed models in those posters sold at the quirky mall gift store had nothing on Ross Cavanaugh. It was shameful that Rose knew that. That she’d bought more than one of those posters. And moreover, that she now had the knowledge of what Ross’s butt looked like. As if the way his shirts bunched over his biceps didn’t keep her awake at night.

  Rose turned around to cover any further embarrassment to him. The tree limb swished back and her hair clip caught in a branch.

  “Rose? Is that you?”

  “Uh, yes?”

  Yes. It was her, so why was she asking the question of him? She pulled the clip from her blonde locks, shaking them out and attaching the hair comb to her sweater so that she didn’t lose it.

  “I didn’t expect to see you.” He hadn’t expected to come across anyone in his state of undress at this hour. “I needed to answer nature’s call and decided to take my clothes with me into the woods. It’s easier to change with some room to move about.”

  “What, why?” she flustered, watching Ross tuck in his shirt. “You slept here?” she puzzled out the answer by looking back at the truck. Condensation covered the front windshield and hood.

  “I did. It was closest to the site. If it’s not okay, I apologize and I’ll find a parking lot to crash in tonight.” Ross rubbed his palms together to ward off the morning chill. Crossing the farmyard, he opened the truck cap, fishing for a double pack of Hostess pies he’d purchased the night before. “I didn’t think you’d mind,” he remarked, opening the packaging as he sat down on the wooden steps of the third structure at the edge of Kingsbrier.

  “I do mind!” Rose squawked. “It’s freezing out here. You’d said you’d find a place to live before it was a problem.”

  She plopped down next to him. The coolness of the air seeped through her sweater making gooseflesh on her arms. She rubbed it away while thinking he’d had nothing but an old bedroll to keep him warm sleeping in the corrugated bed of his truck. That wasn’t the least bit comfortable on sore muscles.

  “It’s not a problem.” Ross handed the second cherry pie crust covered in a layer of crispy sugar to Rose, crinkling the stiff waxed paper before chomping down on his meager breakfast. After the first bite, he leaned on his elbows, putting his weight behind him while watching the sun rise higher. His back made audible pops and cracks.

  “Stubborn,” she said.

  “Hello, pot,” he retorted, smiling. Ross was glad to see her.

  Even knowing Rose paid good money to rent space for Lavender at the other farm, he’d pushed off getting the building permits signed off on. At first, he thought with contrived logic that she’d change her mind. Then he realized the fallacy of that notion. This was Rose. If she were a horse she’d give Bramble a run for her money. Plucky, feisty… Beautiful.

  A lingering blush hinted at her cheeks. He’d never put it past Rose to go looking for
trouble. But it seemed as if she’d been embarrassed finding him dressing for the day. It made him question if she saw him as a man, or if she kept him as a simple plaything to toy with.

  While Ross enjoyed their friendship, the skimpy outfits she’d donned heretofore and things Rose did to attract his attention seemed like a phase to him. Any romance equated to a rich girl slumming it with the working class. He’d long since put that notion out of his head. Or at least he’d attempted to.

  Ross liked it when Rose wore her hair up, her simple ponytail becoming ratty as they drove the backroads. She never seemed to mind and kept talking his ear off as beads of sweat trickled down her neck. He never ran out of things to say to Rose and places he wanted to take her that she’d never been to. She was always excited about something. The world was her oyster. Not because she had the financial means to do whatever she pleased, but because Rose found value in the simplest experiences like listening to the bard owl hoot over the cricket’s chirps while they lay on the hood of his pickup. He told himself that common ground was the reason he sought her company. The fact that it made her more attractive to him was a bonus some days and a detractor on others.

  The first glimpse he’d had of Rose this morning was as she looked away from him. Acting as if she wasn’t embarrassed over watching him dress, she’d tried to fix her hair and hidden her graceful neck entirely. It was a rarity that the chameleonic tendencies were slow to cover her feelings.

  The intentional slow start to begin the stable meant that he was still framing the building when it should be near completion. While more apt than Eric Kingsbrier to assess progress, Rose didn’t hang about. She didn’t know that he often pulled this crew to finish up more pressing assignments. Nor was she privy to the fact that he’d slept here many a night after pounding nails into two-by-fours. Somehow this job had become personal and it felt right to build it for Rose with his own two hands.

  He watched her nibble at the toaster pastry and lick the crumbs off her lower lip.

  Rose blinked twice as if she’d had a sudden epiphany. She stood and her boots stomped against the hard porch. She twisted a doorknob with her hand. When it didn’t budge she put her hip into the action and the door swung on its squeaky hinges.

  “Well, come on.” The tone of her voice made it seem as if he was being reprimanded. Rose disappeared into the dark space.

  Ross’s brow furrowed. He got up and followed.

  The small room was cast in shadows. Any light through the dingy single front window spread in brown and gold tones across the old wooden floor. Cobwebs filled every corner. Like his truck, there were remains of meals and an inkling of life strewn about. Empty tin cans, newspaper, and mothballs that had long since lost their scent and ability to do their job as evidenced by dried piles of scat.

  To the left was a camp kitchen. The white porcelain stove—a rusted out fire hazard—sat in the far corner. There was no refrigerator, but a long, stained Formica countertop with a dirty sink in the middle. Ross moved to the back of the room, opening a tack closet with a small door sharing the wall that must lead to the opposite side of the long building. He left the interior door to the musty space ajar. Work boots scuffed to the next opening to the left where he found a sink mounted to the wall, but not much else that designated it a bathroom.

  There were two more rooms of equal size. Bedrooms, Ross figured. The small single windows in each, caked with burnt dirt from years of neglect, stopped anyone from seeing into the apartment.

  “Oh,” Rose said, all at once disheartened. “So much for ‘welcome home’.” Her confident shoulders slumped and she frowned.

  Ross returned to where the sun streamed through the threshold. He flicked an antique switch indicating that there was an electrical hookup at some point. No lights came on, but something tripped, making Ross’s heart skip a beat, challenging him to remedy that.

  “You want me to live here?” he huffed in that laughing way that made Rose smile too.

  “It seemed like a good idea until I walked in.” She scrunched her nose at the musty smell. The apartment needed a good airing out. “There’s not even a way to warm it up.”

  “Baseboards,” was all Ross said, pointing to the wall under the front window where long slim units could be installed. They both continued looking around.

  “Listen, Rose, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. It’s going to take a lot to make this livable. I won’t have the time or energy at the end of a day to take a broom to the floor, let alone—”

  “What if I did it?” she interrupted.

  A full belly laugh erupted from Ross.

  She squared off, marching across the room. Her determined feet stopped at the dirty window. The lock turned easily, but pushing the pane from left to right required Ross’s help. Together they slid the window open to let in fresh air. His right hand rested on the wood above hers.

  “I’m not so spoiled that I can’t push a broom.” She turned her face to look past their forearms at him.

  “I know you aren’t.” But squatting on her father’s land for longer than he’d anticipated didn’t make sense.

  “Give me a list. Tell me what I’d need to do to get you in here by tonight.”

  “That’s a long list and it’s just as cold in here as my truck gets.”

  “You could stretch out. Not be getting your clothes on in the woods wondering if a deer hunter’s going to come gunning for you.”

  “You weren’t a hunter, Rose.”

  “As I see it, you’re damn lucky I didn’t have a gun pointed at that bullseye you were showing off.”

  “Do you ever take ‘no’ for an answer?”

  “I’ve always found that no one means no. It’s more a compromise so that each party gets what they want. It’s never that people don’t actually want what I do, they only need a say in how it happens.”

  Ross shook his head. Where did this woman learn to negotiate? And why was her logic working on him? They were still holding onto the dirty window, speaking to one another. This close, his rationality dipped to an all-time low, leaving his brain without ample oxygen.

  “If I stay here, I’m fixing the faulty wiring.”

  “Let me know what it costs.”

  “No. It’ll be my rent.”

  “I don’t need you to pay me.”

  “I can sack out tonight in The Grille’s parking lot.” Ross pushed away from the sill. His eyes tracked to the bathroom. Locating where the water main was added another mental tick on his to-do list. He couldn’t get to it until the weekend, but the salvage yard had plenty of commodes available for purchase. It didn’t take much to plumb one in. Sediment likely ran with the tap, but that cleared in due course and a cool cat bath at the end of a long day was better than nothing.

  Ross turned on his heel, his hands on his hips. Rose mirrored his actions looking like the cat that ate the canary. He’d already lost. How had she gotten him to show his cards when he was calling her bluff?

  He was about to ask her why when she opened her mouth. “It’s what friends do.”

  Ross beelined for the front door.

  “Where are you going?” she chased after him.

  “To get a pen and paper. If you’re going to be my landlord there’re things you’ll have to do before I move in.”

  Hotter than she’d ever considered she’d be earlier that morning, Rose’s teal tank top slicked to her ribcage. A shirt of dirt covered her exposed skin and scrubbing the counter and grimy sinks had chaffed her hands, ruining her manicure. She’d taken a mop to the cracked linoleum, smirking to herself over the commotion Benita made when she left Kingsbrier with an armload of cleaning supplies. She’d eaten crow when she asked the housekeeper where to find any of it, not realizing Kingsbrier actually had a mop closet. Rose had never considered that the same way as Eric Kingsbrier never realized there was a kitchen in their home.

  At least Rose knew there was a kitchen. She knew how to cook… Well, bake at the very least. And, who’d hav
e guessed, she did know how to clean despite never having to do so. Finding the treasure trove of rubber gloves and dustpans made Rose happy to have a purpose.

  She waned at the end of the day. Her belly was empty. Ross hadn’t come back from today’s job site yet and his crew assigned here hadn’t shown. She sat on the front step at six p.m., letting a cool breeze wash over her. It was the first time she didn’t feel lonely in her solitude, rather accomplished, even though there was an incredible amount of work left.

  Rose lay back on the warm porch. Exhaustion took over. She hadn’t slept in over thirty-six hours, relying on the adrenaline of having a purpose to carry her through.

  Her head lolled to the right. At noon she’d gone over to the second smaller apartment and opened its windows and front door, allowing it to air out as well. A silly notion that she’d clean it next and see if Ross could work his magic there too entered her mind. She’d move next-door and they’d be neighbors.

  It was witless. Who’d hold onto their faculties believing it was better to live in shabby, run-down apartments than up in a mansion? Somehow though, the idea entranced her and she closed her eyes thinking about how easy it would be to knock on Ross’s door, knowing right where to find him.

  “Hey, Rose, wake up.” His voice swirled into her dream. It took Rose a moment to blink through sleep.

 

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