by Anna Jeffrey
He knew she had been thinking about returning to West Texas, which had probably spurred him to propose in the first place. She never told him Odessa High School had actually offered her a contract even before he proposed. Was declining that offer going to turn out to be one of biggest regrets in her life? Where would she be now if she had made a different choice? No day went by that she didn’t wonder at least once.
Then, all of a sudden, the SUV was slowing and they were turning into the Double-Barrel’s entrance. Motoring along the two-mile paved driveway, she forced herself awake and composed herself. She looked for Pic’s pickup parked in front of the office where it often was at this time of day, but didn’t see it.
They came to a stop in front of the ranch house. Not knowing what to expect inside, she hesitated. A rebellious part of her was tempted to march into the house, drag her suitcases out of the storeroom and leave the Double-Barrel. Unfortunately, she had leased her house in town to a new teacher and his family. Other than some motel room somewhere, she had nowhere to go.
Besides that, if she left, she would have to drive away in the Cadillac SUV Bill Junior had bought for her to drive and that galled her. Indeed, the shiny dark-blue vehicle was beautiful, with more luxuries than she had ever had in a car, but it wasn’t hers. It belonged to the damn ranch.
“Drop me at the back door, please,” she told Chris.
He dutifully pulled around to the side of the house, scooted out and opened the passenger door for her. She thanked him, he backed out and drove away.
As she shed her coat in the utility room and hung it in the closet, a delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen. She followed the smell and saw Johnnie beating something with a long wooden spoon in a big copper bowl. “Hey. Whatcha making?”
The housekeeper glanced up, but didn’t stop her task. “Well, hello. I didn’t hear you come in. I’m making some peanut brittle to take out to the bunkhouse. A little Christmas treat for those poor ol’ cowboys. I want to get it done before that storm moves in here and the humidity gets too high.”
“Ah. Good idea.”
Amanda had no idea that humidity affected peanut brittle. She had never made it in her life, or any other homemade candy. Sweets were not on her diet. Sugar was unhealthy and bad for her teeth. The housekeeper carried the bowl over to another counter and poured the contents onto a large flat pan lined with parchment paper. Amanda watched the hot mixture spread itself into an irregular circle. “What happens to it now?”
Idle talk. She wasn’t the least bit interested in the candy-making process. She would never make it herself.
“I let it cool and get hard, then I break it into pieces,” Johnnie Sue answered. “What’s going on in town today?”
“Hm, cold. It was quiet. No new gossip. Pic’s pickup isn’t at the office. You haven’t heard from him, have you?”
“He called earlier.” Johnnie Sue scraped the bowl clean with the rubber spatula and carried it and the bowl to the sink. She turned on the faucet and placed the utensils under the stream of hot water. “Somebody called and told him Bill Junior was down in Brownwood at an old friend’s house. Pic went down there to get him.”
Hah. Code for girlfriend. Most likely some floozy the old reprobate picked up in a bar. She shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone, checked for calls and text messages. Nothing. Worry began to nag at her.
“Did someone go with him? Brownwood’s a long way from here.”
Johnnie Sue opened the dishwasher and added dishes. “I think they have to have his pickup towed. Pic said Bill Junior had a wreck.”
Amanda’s heart jolted. Her eyes bugged. No point in even asking if the man was drunk. “Oh, my God. Was he hurt? Was anyone else hurt?”
“Didn’t sound like it. He drove into a bank of an irrigation ditch. Marcus took Pic down there.”
That Pic had communicated this information to the housekeeper rather than his wife sent a chill through Amanda. He knew she would worry, but he hadn’t cared? “Did he say what time he’ll be home?”
“Late was all he said.”
Still stunned that she hadn’t heard any of this information directly from Pic, Amanda turned to leave the kitchen. “I’m going to change my clothes.”
“I’ll get supper together soon as I finish cleaning up here,” the housekeeper said from behind her. “Since it’s just you and me, I made us some soup earlier. Hope that’s good enough.”
Striding toward her and Pic’s suite, Amanda didn’t turn and let Johnnie Sue see the tears gathered in her eyes. “That’s great. I had a big lunch.”
In fact, Amanda hadn’t eaten all-day. Johnnie Sue had made her a lunch to take with her to school, but she had been too upset to eat it. She had given it to another teacher.
Once inside the suite, she checked her cell phone more thoroughly. No messages, no missed calls. She pressed in Pic’s cell number, but the call went to voice mail. She disconnected and typed in a text message: JS told me ur dad had a wreck. Hope everything OK.
She changed into jeans and a red sweater with a jolly Santa face on front. It looked nothing like what she usually wore to school. She didn’t want Pic to see her in clothing that reinforced what he said last night just in case he came home sooner than “late.”
All through supper of creamy potato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches with the housekeeper, Amanda stewed over not hearing from her husband. The housekeeper prattled along, occasionally asking prying questions. Even if Johnnie Sue wasn’t a smart old bird, how could she not sense that something was wrong between her and Pic?
After the housekeeper left for home, Amanda again curled up under the thick afghan in the den and watched several shows on TV. At ten o’clock, she turned off TV. Her phone warbled and Pic’s name lit up the tiny screen. She quickly keyed into the call. “Hi, I’m so relieved to hear from you. Everything okay? I’ve been worried about you.”
“I told you last night there’s no need for anybody to worry about me. Listen, I’m still in Brownwood. Gonna spend the night. Looks like Dad’s truck’s totaled. I’ve got to get it towed and get Hank to come down here and get us. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t know what time. Just go to bed and quit worrying about us.”
His voice sounded weak and strained, the way he sounded when he was worn out. She leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees, not wanting to miss a word he said. “Where—where are you staying? What can I do to help you? Couldn’t Chris and I come down there to get you?”
“Nah. No point in you missing school and the weather’s supposed to be bad. Marcus is here with us, so Chris will need to pick up the slack back there at the ranch.”
That was a sharp, talking-down-to-her tone. Concern turned into annoyance. Damn you, Pic. She straightened and drew in a breath. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” Scowling, she disconnected. Jerk!
She sat there thinking. As conversations went, that one was short and to the point. No “I love you,” no “I miss you” and no information about where he would be spending the night. Tears brimmed her eyes again. Dear God. What had happened to them as a couple? Once they had been so close. Now, in a matter of a couple of days, Pic behaved like a stranger.
In the wee hours, the expected storm arrived with a vengeance. Rain pelted the roof and windows. Strong winds whistled around the house’s corner and sent the windmill’s fan and tail to racing and shifting. She glanced at the alarm clock on Pic’s side of the bed. 4:00 a.m. Almost time for Johnnie Sue to show up in the kitchen.
Amanda left the bed and walked to the door, opened it a crack and listened for noises coming from another part of the house. She heard nothing from the kitchen, saw no trace of light. She had lived alone most of her life, had never been afraid, but she had never spent a night alone in this sprawling house. The maze of rooms and uncountable doors and windows made it damn spooky, even with hired security all over the place. For a second, she had an urge to make a sweep of the whole house to reassure herself t
hat all of the doors and windows were locked.
Scolding herself, she returned to bed, lay back on the pillow and tried to plan, but Pic’s words echoed in her head: ... I’ve been taking care of myself a long time. No need for anybody to worry about me. ...
Chapter 16
The next sound Amanda heard was a light tapping on the bedroom door. Startled awake, she left the bed and grabbed the robe she had left lying across a chair. She blinked herself alert as she shrugged into it and walked to the door.
Johnnie Sue greeted her. “Sorry to wake you up, hon, but it’s six-thirty. If you’re gonna go to work, you’d better get ready. You’ll be late.”
Amanda threw a glance over her shoulder at the alarm clock. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe I slept so late. You’re right. I have to hurry. Thanks for waking me, Johnnie Sue.”
“You better dress warm,” she replied. “It’s cold as a witch’s tit out there. Radio station up in Fort Worth says it’s cold enough to snow.”
That information meant nothing. Fort Worth was ninety miles to the north.
After rushing through a shower and shampoo, Amanda stood in front of the vanity mirror drying her hair. Since she had started wearing it short, styling it was so much easier and faster. Pic preferred it long, but other people had told her the gamin style flattered her and she looked cute. She would settle for “cute.”
Before leaving the bathroom, she opened her vanity drawer and pulled out the small calendar where forever she had kept a record of her menstrual cycle. At the moment, she should be ovulating, but her husband was so mad at her they weren’t even taking advantage of the opportunity for her to get pregnant.
Tears welled again, but she grabbed a washcloth and dabbed them away. She couldn’t let what was going on with Pic and his dad affect her attitude. For the next week, the house would be alive with people coming and going and as the only female resident, she would be the hostess.
Besides, this wasn’t the first time Pic had gone somewhere to find Bill Junior, although an overnight stay wasn’t usually called for. She tried to divert her attention to all she had to do today to get ready for the holiday. Among a dozen mundane tasks, she wanted to squeeze in a swim. She wouldn’t be near an indoor pool again for a week or more. The exercise would get her endorphins pumping and improve her mood.
She carried her long coat, which she rarely wore, gloves and a heavy scarf with her to the kitchen. Johnnie Sue was nowhere in sight, but oatmeal was in the warmer. Evidently, only the housekeeper had eaten breakfast.
In no mood for food of any kind, Amanda shunned the oatmeal, doctored a cup of coffee in a large insulated mug, then donned her coat and tied the scarf around her head and neck. She picked up her book bag from the counter in the utility room and walked outside to a damp and cold gloomy day and a whistling wind.
At the end of the sidewalk, one of Redstone’s SUVs awaited her, a white plume spewing from the muffler. Chris, wearing a dark overcoat and gloves, stood waiting to open the back door.
She quickstepped down the wet sidewalk, squinting against a cold mist that felt like tiny shards of glass prickling her face. Chris opened the door and guided her into the SUV’s backseat. Once she was seated, he moved to the driver’s door, scooted behind the wheel and they were off.
She settled in for the long ride, but her stomach continued to tremble. Probably because she’d had little sleep for two nights. She untied her scarf and dropped it around her neck. As she peeled off her gloves, she saw her fingers shaking.
Chris smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “Cold outside. Running a little late this morning.”
She stared at the back of his blond head. “I know. I was awake most of the night. After I finally did drop off, I overslept this morning.”
“Everything all right?”
Wow. That was a more personal remark than usual. “What? Yes, yes, of course. ... It’s just so chaotic right now. Pic’s out of town, you know.”
“I heard. I sensed yesterday that you’re preoccupied.”
“You did?”
He smiled into the mirror again. “Yes, ma’am. We’ve been together almost every day for two years. I can tell when your world is out of sync.”
Hunh. What else did he perceive about her? That they did spend quite a bit of time together was true. The thirty-eight-miles from the ranch to town was a forty-five-minute drive twice a day in the close quarters of an automobile. Since Halloween, he had driven her everywhere or accompanied her on team trips, all of which amounted to sharing meals and sometimes alone time to talk.
“That was insightful of you. I didn’t know you were watching me so closely.” She sipped her coffee.
“Just doing my job. Watching you is what I’m supposed to do.”
This conversation had taken an odd turn. She needed to steer it back to something less personal. “So, what’s the latest? Any progress on finding who cut my tires?”
“I’m not in law enforcement. I’m not privy to their investigation.”
That scary night in Fort Worth zipped through her mind again. She still felt guilty over how, after arguing with Pic, in a temper fit she had stamped out of the ranch house and roared away without even saying good-bye. If her attacker had seen her with Chris, no doubt he wouldn’t have touched her car. One look at him probably would make anyone think twice about doing harm to someone he protected. She gave a big sigh.
“What was that?” he asked, smiling at her in the rearview mirror again.
“Oh, nothing. Just wondering when life will get back to normal.” And at the Double-Barrel, what was normal in the first place? “I’m starting to wonder if it’ll ever be over.”
“Sure, it will. Things like this always come to an end. In a way, I hate to see it. As soon as it does, I’ll be moving on. This has been good duty for me. But I know it’s hard for you, being under the stress that you and your family are.”
Stress. The catch-all word for something that affected so many parts of life. What the hell did it mean, really? Had stress prevented her getting pregnant? Now that Pic had revealed his true feelings about her and their marriage, a different kind of stress overrode her desire for motherhood. Did she even want it any longer?
Chris’s words hung in her mind: ... We’ve been together almost every day for two years. I can tell when your world is out of sync....
Her memory traveled back to when he had first started appearing at her elbow. She and Pic weren’t even formally engaged. Still, due to her being considered Pic’s girlfriend and the Lockhart family’s concern for her safety, she had been included in their security bubble. He was bound to know a great deal about her personally just from being around her so much.
For at least a year of those two years, Chris had occasionally told her how much he admired her ability as a coach. He knew about the Odessa coach’s visit before she and Pic got married. She had told him about the job offer, but as far as she could tell, he had never told a single member of the Lockhart family that marrying Pic had not been her only option.
Some of what he knew was more private than that, like when she had cramps and felt terrible. Or one day when her period started earlier than expected and ruined her clothes, he went into Drinkwell’s small drugstore and bought tampons and waited outside the door of the ladies’ room of the town’s only gas station while she cleaned herself up. More than half the time when he saw her in her coaching role, she was wearing a Speedo swim suit commonly worn by racers. He had seen almost as much of her bare body as Pic had.
What did she know about him? Not much, really. He displayed little emotion, no “tells” exposing who he was as a man. He spoke not at all about his personal life, except to say he was unmarried, had never had a wife and he had no kids. When asked about kids, he hadn’t even made that stupid after-comment, “not that I know of,” like a lot of single men made. If a girlfriend existed in his life, he hadn’t mentioned her.
On top of his physical assets, he was an interesting man. He joined the arm
y after nine-eleven, he told her once, and been assigned all over the world, including some places she had never heard of.
Add to that, he was a nice man—smart, quiet-spoken, polite and courteous. Gentle, even. She couldn’t imagine him in a violent combat situation, but Pic had told her he was a Delta Force warfighter for twelve years and had received medals. He had to be capable of a ruthlessness she had only read about. Had he killed people? Wasn’t that a part of the job of warfighters? Lord. Almost all of the men who now surrounded the family as “security” were trained killers. A shudder passed across her shoulders.
“You okay back there?”
She looked up and he was smiling into the mirror again. “Uh ...Yes. I’m—I’m fine.” She scrambled for conversation. “You, uh—you’ve never told me why you aren’t married, Chris.”
“What’s that, ma’am?”
“Oh, I know I’m not supposed to ask personal questions. But you’re right in that we’ve spent a lot of time together. I was just thinking I should know more about you. You know almost as much about my private life as I know myself. In some ways, you know more about me than Pic does.”
“I’m sure that’s not true, ma’am. He’s a busy man.”
“I know, but ...” She stopped. What she had started to say sounded whiny and immature. She changed her approach. “My husband has gone to only one swim meet where my team competed. You, on the other hand, have been to every one since well before he and I got married. He’s never sat and watched me through a coaching session with my girls and you’ve sat through how many now? I know you’re just doing what you’ve been hired to do and watching teenage girls swim is bound to be boring to someone like you, but still ...”
“Not boring. I like seeing how you motivate those young girls to give it their best. It’s obvious they respect you. Mr. Lockhart’s missing something by not watching you. You’re a good leader and a good coach.”