When You Fall... (14 page)

Her father, helpful to the end, provided her with his pre-approved list of career options. One’s he felt might suit her and she’d meticulously tried them all. The accountant had been the best of the bunch. And as it turned out, she’d been a mediocre accountant on a good day; on the other days, not so much.

She picked up the bag of special Purina feed left by Dr. Bailey, read the instructions, figuring out what Augustus needed based on his weight, and placed it into the stall’s feeder.

When she was done, she went over to the shed, in search of hay, putting some in both stalls. It was enough to see them through until morning. Horses were hearty eaters, so you had to be serious about taking care of them if you wanted to own one. She was appreciative again for Rafael and his free hay bales.

She watched the horses eat for a few minutes before taking the hose over to fill their buckets with clean water. After that task was complete, she stood outside their stalls. Augustus’ emaciated body drew her up short. People could be cruel, and whether it was intentional or not, it left the same damage in its wake.

“When you fall off a horse, you get back on,” she said to Augustus, tears starting to form in her eyes, tears for the neglect of such a lovely animals mixed in with a little bit of feeling sorry for herself. She’d always been a little out of step when compared to her stepsisters and when would she stop trying to compete, to please. It was all to please him and she was back to that again. She took a seat on the floor.

“Why would anyone treat you this way? Letting you starve, leaving you tied to a tree, selling the home you love out from under you? People are always trying to take over your life, make you into something that they can approve of, setting you up on blind dates, dates that you have no intention of keeping, in search of a man you don’t want and you let them, don’t you, ” she said, watching Augustus while he ate.

“When you fall off a horse…” she said to Augustus.

Augustus stared back at her like he understood her pain somehow.

“You get back on,” Rafael said, moving toward her from the door, finishing her sentence. Talk about stealthy.

“Where did you come from?” she asked, swiping her eyes with the arm of her sleeve, embarrassed. She hoped he hadn’t overheard her.

“I stopped by to find out what Doc had to say about your new horse. I might have to find him and Grey another home if you were killing them,” he said, a soft smile playing at his lips. He pointed to the horses, coming to stand in between their stalls. His back was to her, giving her time to compose herself.

“You’re so funny. They aren’t mine, anyway,” she said, and then recited the vet’s comments and instructions.

“What are you going to do with them?” Rafael asked, stroking Grey’s mane.

“Don’t know. Look for a rescue shelter to take them in,” she said.

He nodded and took a seat next to her on the floor, stretching his legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. They sat there for a few minutes watching the horses eat.

“Long day?” he asked.

“They are all long,” she said.

“Takes some getting used to, but you seem to be doing fine. Not letting it stop you,” he said.

“I don’t want to sell this place,” she said, looking over at him.

“Okay…” he said. That came from out of nowhere.

“I used to love being here. And these last two weeks of being here, hard work or not, I feel the same. I love it here. I’ve missed this place,” she said, eyes filling with tears again. She wiped them away.

“Who says you have to sell?” he asked.

“Grey is filling out, not so thin and starved anymore. Augustus is worse than Grey was,” Carter said, trying to regain her composure. Rafael nodded, allowing her to.

“My great-grandfather built a reputation for being a good horseman, of working and training the really difficult horses, the horses others had given up on.”

“I know. I’ve heard,” he said.

“He trained them for competition and for use as work horses. It seems like such a waste to let all that go.”

“So don’t,” he said.

“My great-grandfather had one son, who in turn had two boys. One was gay, a no-no in those days, and the other one was my father. My uncle left home after some major disagreement. Didn’t speak to his family again, ever. And as far as I know, he left no children behind. So it was just me until my dad remarried, which he did, when I was ten. Now I have five sisters. The oldest, Savannah, is my age.

I stayed out here until I was about 15 before I had to move in with my dad and Gloria—the new wife and the new sisters. They lived in a big suburb a little south of Austin. He didn’t allow me to come back here, and I resented it to no end.”

He looked at her.

“We couldn’t be more different, the stepsisters and me. It was and has always been me against the rest of them, even now. They’ve become my permanent competition.” She was quiet for a few minutes, thinking about all they’d done to each other growing up together.

“Competing for what?” he asked.

“You name it and it was on. Mostly though, we were in competition for my dad’s favor.”

“Waste of time, don’t you think?”

“Not to me. It had always been about family for my great-grandfather and after his grandson’s departure, family became even more important to him, instilled into me, too. He included the stepsisters as his own. They are in the will, too. He gave us all an equal say in what happens to the ranch. Which honestly chaps, but what can you do?” she said.

He nodded and remained silent.

“It’s not just about me. You asked why we have to sell? There are five other sisters that have a voice, and they need money. So as much as I love this place, I can’t stay. They want out, and way sooner than I was expecting.”

“Sorry.”

“Would you believe I’m more hurt about that than I am about the whole wedding escapade? And that hurt, too.”

“Sorry again.”

“It is what it is, right? Water under the bridge as my grandmother was so fond of saying.”

“What happened to your mother?”

“She died from breast cancer when I was ten. My father left me here after she died. She was the love of his life. I’d like to think anyway. Gloria—that’s my stepmother—cast some evil spell on him that he has yet to break free of,” she said with a quiet chuckle.

It was quiet again. About ten minutes later, her head hit his shoulder.

He turned to look at her. Did he feel compassion for her? He nudged her with her shoulder.

“Better go in. It’s getting late,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said, looking at him serious now. “Thanks for everything, for helping me with the ranch this week. I know you’re busy. Thanks especially for letting me borrow your tractor. You really love that thing,” she said, hitting him with her shoulder.

“No problem,” he said, pushing up to stand, reaching for her hand to help her up, too.

“What are you going to tackle next?” he asked.

“A little bit more cutting with your tractor again, right? Then it’s on to tree trimming, then maybe repair the old round pens. They look so bad. I may even have to start over. I’d like to work with Grey and Augustus before I have to give this all up. After that, I have to move on to the inside, and tackle Jack’s bedroom, which I’ve put off. That should take me years,” she said, grimacing at her sore legs, walking stiff-legged out of the barn and toward the front door.

“Where is your truck?” she said, looking around.

“I walked,” he said.

“See you later then,” she said.

“Yep,” he said, waved and walked away. She headed for bed.

#

Sunday

Rafael pulled up to her drive the next evening. Her car was parked out back. He knocked on the back door. No answer. He walked over and into the barn, found the two horses, in their stalls, munching contently.

He walked back to the front door this time, rang the doorbell and waited. He knocked harder while peering in though the side window. He couldn’t see in. He hadn’t come across her at all today. She hadn’t come for his tractor either. He was starting to worry.

He waited a few minutes and knocked again. Carter opened the door. She was clad in those short boxers from the first night with an oversized t-shit on top. Her eyes were puffy and red.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah. What time is it?” she said, looking out of sorts. The interior of the house was dark.

“Nine thirty.”

“Want something to drink?” she said, stepping back from the door, inviting him in.

“Sure.”

She walked to the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator.

“Coke is all I have,” she said, handing him a can.

“Coke is fine,” he said, taking it from her. “I checked in on the horses. They seem to be doing fine,” he said, not sure what to make of her.

“I gave them some hay and gave Augustus his special feed. The vet said to wait and see how the next day or so goes. She also gave me some shampoos to use on his coat. I found it at Charlie’s feed store in town. I shampooed Grey, too, while I was at it. Then I went to bed early. I guess the past two weeks are finally catching up to me.”

“That can happen,” he said, taking a sip of his Coke. “Are you all right?” he asked, finding that she touched something within him. Last night he’d heard most of her conversation with the horses and what she’d said afterward remained with him now. It had him feeling something he hadn’t felt for a woman in a long time. Sympathy.

He walked over and stood closer. She looked lost, like a little girl, one he’d caught a glimpse of last night in the barn.

“Do you know that last night was the first time I’ve felt like crying since that stupid wedding and all that came afterward? Couldn’t until now,” she said, staring at her can of Coke. “And now I can’t seem to stop,” she said, as she gave a watery laugh, her gaze on his, filled with tears. “See,” she said, pointing to her eyes, giving off another watery laugh.

He smiled.

“Remember you said that I could have spoken to the groom, pulled him aside?”

He nodded.

“I gave that approach some thought, but decided against it. Decided that interrupting the wedding could serve two purposes,” she said, watching him. He just looked back at her, his face blank.

“It would be do-or-die with Bentley.”

“Bentley?”

“The groom in the wedding. Bentley Jacobs, famous football player,” she said.

He nodded. “He’s with Houston, right?”

“Yes. I knew he wouldn’t say yes, not really. I’d hoped he would, but deep down I knew he wasn’t that type of man.”

“Why do it then?” he said.

“I was done with the whole husband search. I was tired of looking anyway. Wasn’t getting anywhere good with it. So I decided to just blow it up, but not the firing part. I hadn’t expected that. But I should have given it more thought. ”

“Is having a husband so bad?” he asked.

“No,” she said. She was back to looking down at her soda can. “Looking for one is a bitch, though.”

“Why look then?”

“I don’t know. It’s complicated. It’s a little bit of wanting the whole happily-ever-after package mixed in with wanting to fit in and hoping to make my dad proud. Throw in wanting to have something that the other sisters would want—back to that competing thing again,” she said.

“Not good reasons.”

“No, not good reasons,” she said. He nodded, not sure what to say now.

“When I was younger, and not so young, I spent a lot of my time staring out of windows, head-in-the-clouds. It annoyed my father to no end, always had, from the beginning, even before he remarried. He kept waiting for me to outgrow it. I needed to become grounded in the world, get serious, take school seriously, all of that,” she said, her eyes on his.

“So no more trips here in the summer after I’d moved in with him. I still hadn’t gotten rid of the head-in-the-clouds thing, but they had something for that. Ritalin helped me to focus. It gave me a headache and helped me to pay attention. To sit up and be still.

That was the beginning of the end for me, I think. Leaving this ranch behind, the thing I loved the most. The beginning of me doing things to please my dad that ultimately led to the Crazy Carter that’s all over YouTube. And now that I think about it, it was inevitable, letting others set the course for your life. It can only lead you to places that aren’t your design, or if you want to get spiritual, aren’t God’s design for you. Does that make sense?” she said, wiping away her tears, giving him a fake smile.

He nodded.

“And Bentley, well he was just Bentley. We were good together once. I loved him once. Thought I could again. Couldn’t I have?”

He shrugged.

“We’d known each other since middle school. I was this tomboy who he seemed to like. Didn’t seem to mind that I loved horses. He didn’t want me to be anything other than Carter, even as we grew older. He used to drive me here. We were sneaking, of course, and once I got my car I went where ever I wanted. He liked my great-grandfather and the feeling was mutual. Everyone loved Bentley.

“I taught him how to ride. I couldn’t believe he didn’t know. He let me teach him too, all serious, like he knew what this meant to me,” she said, and finished off the rest of her soda.

“What was I thinking to let him go? Dumb move, right? My dad loved him. He didn’t have a son, so he was overjoyed with the prospect of Bentley, the outstanding athlete. The kind of son he would have wanted.”

“Things have a way of working themselves out,” Rafael said.

That was the wrong thing to say. Her tears started to flow in earnest now. He hated crying women. He wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“Hey,” he said, reaching for her, pulling her into his chest, a move that surprised them both. Her eyes widened, but she let herself be pulled, her arms wrapped around his waist. She stayed there for a while, giving in to her tears.

“You okay?” he asked, a few minutes later, when he thought her weeping had subsided. He brushed her hair with his hand, a subconscious desire to soothe. She’d grown quiet. She pulled back and gave him a smile, albeit on the watery side. She was a pretty girl with her smooth, dark chocolate skin and even darker, black hair. A silky jet cap covered her head.