Love Me Love Me Knot

by Deb Lee

  Ryan bent down and held out his hand, still laughing. Actually, it was more of a giggle. Very manly. “Come here, little goat.”

  Of course, the goat obliged by licking his palm. He pet it, then wrapped an arm around the belly of the creature, picked it up and held it against his broad chest.

  “I’m going to beat you, Ryan,” she warned between swipes.

  Sophie lifted the front of her shirt to dab at the saliva on her cheeks. The combined texture of woodchips and dirt and possibly coffee grinds hung in her nose.

  He didn’t respond.

  She stared up at him.

  He gazed at her bare stomach.

  “Are you for real? I have a brush with death, and you’re gawking at me?”

  Ryan met her should I kill you now or later stare. “No, not at all.”

  Sophie blew a strand of hair out of her face. The goat had settled into Ryan’s arms. Its tiny flannel outfit was complemented with quarter-sized bows fastened to the top of its floppy ears. She hated how her legs quivered at their cuteness.

  She relented and pet its diamond nose, earning a less forceful lick. “Other than almost scaring me to death, the thing is kind of cute. Points for being well dressed too.”

  “Dolly!” A sizable Samoan man, wearing only tweed pants, cargo boots, and billboard-worthy tattoos from the neck down hollered as he leapt over the fence in a single stride. He stopped within an inch of Ryan, tugging the goat from his arms. “What are you doing to my pygmy?”

  Ryan relinquished the goat.

  The goat offered the man a long-tongued kiss.

  Sophie scrunched her nose. Ugh, ick, blech.

  He set the goat down and she trotted away. He turned his full pro-wrestler bulk on Ryan and stared him down. ”Why you messing with a man’s goat?”

  Ryan raised his arms in defense. “Your goat jumped on my friend. I grabbed her off. That’s it.”

  The man looked Sophie up and down. “She likes blondes.” He turned back to Ryan. “Who the hell are you?”

  Ryan narrowed his eyes.

  Sophie didn’t want Ryan getting pummeled. “You know what?” Sophie put her hand on Ryan’s chest, feeling it flex. Oh, she should feel his chest more often. “I’m fine. Your goat is fine. We should just go.”

  The behemoth frowned. “You owe my goat an apology, dude.”

  Ryan recoiled. “An apology? For what? Your goat just assaulted my friend.”

  “Your friend is on her property.”

  Ryan’s jaw tensed. “It’s a goat. She doesn’t have property.”

  “She is a pygmy goat. Her name is Dolly, and you scared her. I don’t come to your house and torment your animals.”

  “Your house?” Ryan’s face turn crimson. “I don’t think so.”

  Are we at the wrong house? Sophie knew this could go bad real fast.

  The snap like thunder made Sophie jump and instinctually duck behind Ryan’s shoulder. Her gaze darted toward the sound.

  “What’s going on out here?”

  On the front porch a corpulent woman towered, holding a bullwhip like Indiana Jones. Her stout frame commanded attention, and she strode down the porch stairs like a lion tamer about to break up a very menacing, testosterone-laden catfight.

  “We have trespassers, Tia.”

  “Trespassers?” Ryan shot back. “Hardly. I practically lived here!”

  “Ryan?” Tia glanced Sophie’s way, then ran over and wrapped him in a bear hug. “Mijo, how are you? What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Tia,” he said, kissing her cheek.

  “You know this wanker?” the behemoth said.

  “What did you call me?”

  “Boys,” Tia warned, pushing them in opposite directions. Her bullwhip curled neatly in the hand pressed against Ryan’s chest. “Act like men. Ryan, this is my stable hand, Jamba. Jamba, this is my best friend’s son, Ryan.”

  Ryan shifted his eyes to the empty corral, regret flitting through his eyes. “Your stable hand? Since when do you need help, Tia?”

  “Since I got the sugars and can’t run this place on my own.”

  Sophie knew sugars was slang for diabetes.

  Ryan stared at her, and Sophie rested a hand on his shoulder. It was hard to hear when someone you loved was ill.

  “Now tell me why you’re here. I’m sure you didn’t leave your big shot office in San Antonio to come all the way down to my neck of the woods to play with Jamba’s goat.”

  Ryan shook his head, squinting at Jamba. “Yeah, what’s up with that?”

  “You have your sports and traveling, and Jamba has his . . . uh, Dolly.” Tia’s face softened. “Jamba’s auntie and I play bridge every Sunday. He’s not very good with conversations, or even with new people, as you can see, but boy can he tell you about goats and pretty much anything you would need to know about farming. He works here during the week.”

  “Damn right I do,” Jamba said with child-like enthusiasm.

  “Jamba, why don’t you go check on Dolly and water the horses.”

  “Sure, Tia. Ryan.” He dipped his head.

  “Jamba.” Ryan nodded back, his gaze softening.

  Ryan reached for Sophie’s hand. “Sorry about that. I didn’t foresee a circus act today. You okay?” He swiped a stray hair from in front of her face.

  Sophie parted her lips to say she was fine. But that little touch tied her tongue. To say that the goat gave her more excitement than she had had in pretty much forever would not have been an exaggeration. But she just smiled and nodded, while her knees quivered.

  “All right, Sapphire. I want you to meet my dear friend.” He kissed her forehead.

  “So, is this the one?” Tia winked.

  The one? Sophie kind of liked the sound of that.

  “I’m Dolores Cardoza. But call me Tia. Nice to meet you, dear.” Her smile widened across plump, copper cheeks. She had a thin gap between her front teeth and freckles dotted either side of her nose.

  “Very nice to meet you. I’m Sophie Dougherty.”

  “A pleasure. Now let’s get inside and you can tell me all about this beautiful lady.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “I come bearing gifts,” Ryan said, pulling Sophie along.

  “Firewater?”

  “Gold Watch.”

  “Perfect, mijo. That’s why you’ll always be my favorite.”

  Tia took the scotch and stuffed it under her arm. “Thank you, mijo.”

  Sophie leaned into Ryan and whispered. “I like her.”

  He pressed his lips to her hair sending a shiver down her back. “Everyone does.” Sophie could hear the smile in his words.

  Tia opened the bungalow’s door to a time warp. Circa 1969 to be exact. The far wall paid exceptional homage to the original Woodstock. Sophie would recognize these famous prints anywhere. Except they didn’t appear to be mass-produced. There was no way she had original copies. Was there? Among other framed and autographed legends, epic stills of Janis Joplin, Santana, The Who, Keef Hartley Band, and—wipe the drool from her chin—Hendrix, quite possibly God’s only forgotten son, dressed the wall.

  In one print, Jimi Hendrix’s arm was draped around a much younger, and quite smaller Tia. They were both laughing and posing with Hendrix’s guitar in front of them. His signature across the sound board of the guitar was clear enough to read, even from the poor-quality picture.

  “You met Jimi Hendrix?”

  “Met him?” Tia scoffed, tossing the bullwhip onto a chair that appeared to be held up with past Sports Now magazines. “Ever hear of groupies?” she asked as she dawdled in the kitchen.

  “Um, yeah,” Sophie coyly answered, suddenly warm.

  “Well, I wasn’t one, in case that’s what you
’re thinking.” Tia cackled. “Got ya, didn’t I?”

  Sophie grinned. She most definitely liked this lady.

  “Want some iced tea? Just put a fresh brewed pitcher over ice. No sugar, though. The doctor’s added torture to my dietary plan. They told me to use sweetener. I told them where they could stick that sweetener.” Tia banged around in the kitchen before returning to the living room where she set a wooden tray stacked with four tall, mismatched glasses and a pitcher of iced tea on an Elvis-topped coffee table—the 1960s version of the King.

  “No, I was part of the cleanup crew at Woodstock. If you ever want to see a bigger group of slobs,” she said, pointing to the wall, “well, I tell ya. That was slob headquarters.”

  Tia poured a glass of tea and handed it to Sophie. “Hendrix and I . . . well, we had an understanding.”

  Sophie grinned behind her glass and glanced at Ryan who pursed his lips in a don’t ask me way.

  Tia sat. Her worn leather chair donned strips of duct tape holding the seams together and piles of old magazines from Red Book to National Geographic stacked neatly in rows next to it. “The fascinating part was after he played his last set, he approached me! Oh, talk about a girl and her dream come true. He handed me one of his autographed guitars—that one there,” she said, pointing to the picture—“in exchange for going out on a date with one of his roadies, Edwin, my future husband.”

  “Oh. Wow. That’s not something you hear every day.”

  “Yeah.” Tia handed Ryan his tea and poured herself a glass. “That boy tried talking to me for two days and I wouldn’t give him the time of day. Come to find out, he worked as a traveling stagehand for the legend. And handle me well, Edwin did. That was back when love and romance meant something. It was a fantastic Age of the Aquarius movement. Now people type in something on their fancy iHookup device and bam, iRomance. No offense to the tech world, mijo.”

  “None taken.”

  “It’s also where I met Ryan’s mom.” Tia winked at Ryan and smiled. “I sure do miss Mary.”

  Ryan’s smile faltered, and Sophie had the urge to wrap her arms around him. “Me, too.”

  “But, I don’t suppose you came all this way to reminiscence about my hippy days when I was a twig . . . and smoking them. What brings you to my island? Unannounced, I might add. Not that I’m not happy to see you. But you dying or getting married or something?”

  Ryan choked on his tea.

  “Or not.” Tia handed him a napkin.

  Just then, the front door swung open and Jamba clomped in, Dolly wrapped around his neck like a scarf. She wore a shimmery pink ballerina costume with layered tulle at the bottom.

  “You changed her clothes?” Ryan asked.

  “And?”

  Sophie and Ryan shared a well okay then look. She was never one to play dress up even with Barbie or paper dolls. So the idea of playing dress up with a goat never crossed her mind. Ever.

  “Um, never mind,” Ryan said.

  “Tia.” Jamba unwrapped Dolly and started rocking her in his arms. “Looks like rain. I’m going to throw tarps over the hay and shovel a moat around the barn so the rain don’t flood Joplin’s stall. Can you watch Dolly so she doesn’t go swimming in the lake again? I just bathed her.”

  “Sure, honey. Thank you.”

  Jamba put Dolly down and clipped a pink, diamond-studded leash to her outfit before giving her to Tia.

  “Are those real?” Sophie gawked at the goat’s bling.

  Jamba jerked his head in Sophie’s direction. “Don’t be ludicrous. Who would get their pet diamonds?”

  Sophie smothered a smile.

  He turned back to Tia. “After I’m done, I’m going to head to town.”

  Jamba clunked out the door.

  “He seems great,” Sophie said.

  Tia scratched Dolly between her nubs, and the sparkling goat turned in a few circles before lying down at Tia’s feet. “He’s pretty handy to have around. I just love him to pieces and he takes great care of my horses. The world isn’t easy on him. So I’m glad he has a place here.”

  “That’s wonderful, Tia.” Sophie smiled warmly.

  “So, Ryan,” Tia redirected, “to what do I owe this visit?”

  “Actually, this is a legit case of we just happened to be in town.”

  “But you’re not dying?”

  “No.”

  “Not eloping?”

  This time Sophie choked on her tea. “No, most certainly not.”

  Ryan’s Caribbean eyes challenged her claim. “Would it be that bad?”

  Sophie suddenly visualized herself signing her name Sophia Pike. Whoa. “Absolutely,” she said on a hard laugh.

  “How do you know Ryan?” Tia asked, squeezing lemon into her tea.

  Sophie snapped her eyes back to Tia. “We, ah, we work under the same organization,” Sophie said. “He’s with Sports Now, as you know, and I’m a columnist for a smaller magazine called Up Front.”

  “We also dated ten years ago and she’s starting to fall for my rugged good looks again.”

  “Ryan!” Sophie elbowed his ribs.

  “What?” He did his sultry half-smile thing.

  “You two are going to make beautiful babies.”

  “Tia!” Sophie scoffed, but couldn’t help the tinge of hope brewing deep in her stomach. Maybe one day. The rogue thought caught her off guard. “I also coordinate a non-profit café for girls with eating disorders. Mainly bulimia.”

  “Oh, that’s insightful. Is that something you have a personal connection to?”

  “Um, w-well,” Sophie stuttered, then laughed nervously.

  Ryan took her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers, calming her nerves but threatening to explode her heart.

  “I just do what I can.”

  “And how is that going?”

  Sophie squeezed Ryan’s hand, not sure how to answer. “Well, it’s had a bit of a financial . . .” Sophie paused, thinking the right word was “death” but went with the safer word, “setback. But we’ll be okay.”

  “I’m sure you will.” Her eyes skipped to Ryan. “How’s your dad?”

  This time, Ryan’s fingers squeezed hers before they released altogether. He crossed his arms over his chest and squirmed. “Honestly, he’s been trying to call me, but I haven’t had the time to call back.”

  “You haven’t had the time, or you haven’t made the time?”

  Tia did not beat around the bush, Sophie realized.

  Ryan’s face didn’t crack. He held Tia’s gaze, and only the slighted twinge in eyes told Sophie that he didn’t appreciate the accusation. “It’s not that simple, Tia,”

  “Honey, I never said it was. But he’s your dad.”

  “Right. And still in Paris with Nicole. Hasn’t picked up a phone in years and now he’s calling? I don’t really care.”

  “The phone works both ways, sweets.”

  “Got it,” Ryan said through gritted teeth. He cleared his throat and stared at Elvis.

  “He’ll come around. He just needs time to adjust.”

  Sophie tried to make herself disappear into the couch, not wanting to intrude on their conversation.

  “He’s been there for twelve years. I doubt it’s an adjustment and more like an avoidance.”

  “Well, we all wear our grief differently.” Tia filled his cup with more tea.

  Ryan cleared his throat again and moved to the edge of the couch to grab his tea. Sophie heard a familiar pain in his voice. “He wears his as far away from me as he can.”

  “Now, now. Give him time.”

  “He can have it.” Ryan looked at Sophie, his hard eyes softening. “You still want to go horseback riding?”

  “I thought it was going t
o rain.”

  “Rain won’t come for a few hours yet,” Tia chimed in. “Take Joplin and Santana. They’re my tame mares. Steer clear of Hendrix. He’s sniffing the wind, if you know what I mean.”

  “You don’t mind, Tia? I don’t want to bail right after we got here, but I’d love to show Sophie the area.”

  “Go on. You’re interrupting my Days of our Lives. I have an old pair of chaps in the barn that should fit you, Sophie. You’ll want those. And by old . . . I mean I outgrew them before you were even born.”

  Sophie laughed. “Okay. Thanks.”

  They headed for the front door.

  “Hey, Tia.” Sophie stopped in front of the door. “What happened to the guitar Hendrix gave you?”

  Tia swung her finger in a large horizontal circle. “You think we could have afforded all this on a technician’s salary?”

  “Well, it’s a beautiful farm,” Sophie said, looking at the shrine again. “I can tell it’s well loved.”

  “Oh, sure. Just don’t go digging up the ground. You may find a buried body or two.” Her hoarse cackle startled Dolly. She sat up then shook her tail, which was caught in the tulle, and jumped in Tia’s lap.

  A vision of a baby, instead of a goat, slung across Tia’s lap surged through Sophie’s mind. Warmth swirled inside her. She blushed. Not that it would be her baby. Ryan hadn’t even hinted at the where this was going conversation.

  But the possibility of a baby with Ryan? And an extended family like Tia, who would tell stories about Ryan as a child. It all seemed within reach. Only it was within Ryan’s reach, not hers. Sophie shook the thought. That’s what fantasies were for: hopeful wishing stuffed deep within the boundaries of her mind.

  “I told you she was great,” Ryan whispered in her ear, sending a buzz down her back. He pushed the screen door open and they stepped out. “Thank you for coming with me.” His big, fat, irresistible grin stretched across his face, and Sophie sighed. He was going back to San Antonio in a couple of days. Letting her heart roam wild and free with the possibility of them was asking for heartbreak. But for the moment, she let the fantasy win.