10
JESSE
A DREAM DENIED
I arrive back at the house with Clint and Maverick. We finished today’s work and decided to return earlier than usual to check that Taylor was handling the preparations for tonight.
Clint’s unhappy that I’ve invited the warden and his wife for dinner. He thinks it’s too soon, and Taylor needs longer to bed into our lives, but I want to show her our community and help her spread roots wider than just this ranch and the three of us. Barb is such a kind, warm woman, and I know she’ll naturally take Taylor under her wing. If Taylor’s going to want to stay, she’ll need friends of her own to replace the family that she’s left behind. The arrangement we have to share Taylor must remain a secret, though. Our community isn’t the kind who’d accept any type of alternative lifestyle, and I’m not the kind of man who wants to explain himself to anyone.
As I’m putting the key in the lock, Clint grabs my shoulder.
“What the hell, Jesse? You locked her in?”
His face is stony, and his grip vicious. “Of course. None of us were here. She could leave.”
“She’s not a prisoner. She’s my wife.”
I narrow my eyes at his possessive tone. She might have married Clint officially, but she belongs to all of us. “Right now, she’s a flight risk.”
“You can’t hold her hostage. And anyway, if she wanted to escape, she could smash a goddamn window. Where do you think she’d go?”
“Home,” I say. He’s right about her being able to leave if she really wanted to. My fear that she’ll go before we have a chance to build something worth staying for isn’t just about Taylor. It’s the shadow of my son’s departure and the loss I carry like a black hole in the pit of my stomach. My ex-wife left without warning. She was long gone before I could do anything to stop her. The gaps in the closet and the empty toy box echo in my memory, casting an arch of anxiety that braces my shoulders.
“How do you think she’ll feel about this,” Maverick says. “If we can’t show her trust, how can we expect her to trust us?”
I turn the lock, hoping to God that Taylor hasn’t tried the door. I rationalize that if she wasn’t planning to leave, she wouldn’t have discovered it was locked.
Inside, the scent of baking fills the air. Taylor’s at the stove, pulling out two circular tins. Her hair is loose around her face, hiding her expression.
Clint makes his way over to her, waiting as she puts the tins on the cooling rack. “Hey,” he says, but when he’s close enough to see her face, he twists to stare at me furiously before reaching out for her.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“The door—”
Taylor sobs and then swipes at her face roughly, twisting away from Clint and striding to the sink. She begins scrubbing dirty dishes furiously.
I’m frozen to the spot, but Maverick is quick to approach her. “Jesse made a mistake, muffin. He forgot you were inside.”
Her shoulders hitch, but when he rests his hand against her spine, her posture softens.
“Taylor.” My throat burns with regret, but the word sorry dies on my tongue.
She turns, and her gaze fixes on my face. “You thought I’d run.” Her forthrightness is like a stab in the gut. “At least be honest,” she says through gritted teeth.
“He didn’t want this to end before it started,” Maverick says softly. He brushes away a tear that’s halfway down her blotchy cheek. “It was wrong.”
“Don’t treat me like I’m your prisoner,” she half shouts. There’s more emotion behind her words but she’s trying to keep it contained.
“We won’t,” Clint says, leveling me with a glare.
“I’m not going to leave,” she says. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
Relief floods me, which makes me sicker with myself. I shouldn’t be happy to learn she’s alone in the world and that the only place she has to be is with three strangers. What kind of man does that make me?
One with hopes and dreams built on loss.
It’s not an excuse. I rub my hands over my lower face and hang my head. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“It won’t,” Clint adds firmly. “You’re a part of this family, and you’ll be treated that way, with trust and respect. Okay?”
I raise my head to witness Taylor nodding before she returns to the dishes.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask. “Can I help?”
“Everything’s ready.”
It’s then I notice that the table has been set with three different salads, sliced cold meats, a savory tart of some kind, and fresh bread rolls. “I would have put some flowers in the vase, but I couldn’t get outside.”
“I’ll get some,” I say quickly, striding to the door.
I need to get outside for a couple of minutes to regroup. This morning feels like it’s a year away, and I’ve lost all the trust I felt building with Taylor with one stupid action.
Locking Taylor inside was a mistake. If she knew me, maybe she’d understand, but right now, she’s become wary and suspicious.
I just hope that spending the evening with Mitch and Barb will dilute the unease within our home.
Although I hate to admit it even to myself, I need to work on my trust issues for everyone’s sake.
An hour later, the front door swings open as Maverick welcomes our guests. I arrive in the hallway, showered and dressed, just in time.
“You usually come around the back. Why the formality?”
Barb pulls me in for one of her magic hugs that feels like heaven. She’s short but well built, as sturdy as she’s feminine and soft. I catch her usual rose scent which lowers my agitation a notch almost immediately. Mitch looms behind his wife, his thatch of thick, gray hair giving him a distinguished look.
“What’s cooking? You boys need to get out of my way.” Mitch has a mound of a belly to match his jovial personality. After years of working with delinquents from every state and walk of life, you’d think he’d be cynical by now. But he has an endless supply of optimism and good cheer that make him a positive influence. He suffers no fools despite his toothy grin, which can deceive people who meet him for the first time.
Barb cranes her neck and catches sight of Taylor, who’s dressed in an outfit that bears no resemblance to her usual combo. She’s the perfect blend of practical and elegant in smart black pants and a soft pink top decorated with embroidery. She’s beautiful, and I have to swallow against the ball of cotton suddenly caught in my throat.
“Now, you must be Taylor. I’ve heard so much about you!” Barb steps forward and takes Taylor into an embrace, which Taylor seems awkward to receive but reciprocates anyway. “Clint. You’re a very lucky man.”
“I’m so pleased to meet you both.” Taylor smiles in Mitch’s direction. “I hope you’re hungry. I wasn’t sure what to cook so I made a spread.”
“That’s wonderful, honey! I’m sure it’s all going to be delicious.” Barb touches Taylor’s arm and is met with a tentative smile.
“I’ll get us a good red to go with dinner, but for now, let’s have a little whiskey warm-up.” I head for the cabinet in the back room and come out with a tray of shot glasses and a bottle of joy juice, finding Mitch praising Taylor in the kitchen.
“This all looks delicious.” He pats his belly. “My diet is on the back burner for another night.”
“That would make fifty-eight years then.” Barb laughs.
The whole meal is exactly as I hoped it would be. The food Taylor prepared goes down like a storm. For dessert, she excelled herself with a moist carrot cake, dainty chocolate brownie bites, and an out-of-this-world trifle. The delicate pastries she has in the oven for much later smell divine and, despite everyone feeling full to the brim, we all promise to save a little space for them.
The conversation is light and upbeat and centered around food and travel. Barb and Mitch have recently been to Europe and Asia and amuse us with their tales, which mostly involve Mitch putting his foot in it in different locations. Taylor smiles and laughs along but doesn’t join in much. I wonder if she ever left her home state and if she’s ever been to a dinner party before. She seems so sheltered.
As we’re getting ready to clear the table, Barb says, “You’ve got a great girl here, Clint. You boys are all lucky to have her around. Jesse, your momma would have approved of so much life being brought into this kitchen.”
“She would,” I say, wistfulness creeping into my voice. I wish I could be honest with Barb about who Taylor’s going to be to us all. Keeping secrets is hard, especially from the people I love. She must sense my disquiet because her eyebrows draw together.
“Come here, daft boy! He’s got a big heart, you know, Taylor. They all do!” Barb hooks her arms around my neck and presses a motherly kiss to my cheek. Taylor watches our exchange, and I hope that Barb’s sweetness towards me will show Taylor that I’m not a bad guy and that we’re all worth sticking around for.
When dinner is over, we leave Barb and Taylor to chat at the kitchen table, and head to the back room to play some cards. I focus on Mitch’s update on the three young workers he’s bringing us on a program from the penitentiary. Activity at the ranch will ratchet up over the coming months with branding and breeding. We’ll need the help.
Time passes in the company of good friends and even though I’m losing at cards, I find myself laughing away some of the earlier tension.
When we wrap up our third game, I offer to get everyone coffee, and as I leave the back room, I slow as I reach the kitchen. Barb and Taylor are talking, and I can’t resist the urge to listen in for a bit.
“After that, we just couldn’t make it happen again. The doctors told us it was impossible. It’s been something that I have carried with me always.” Barb’s voice, choked with tears, tugs at my heart, and I have to steady myself. I realize that she’s telling Taylor about her pregnancy loss and resulting problems, which meant they could never have children. It’s why they always treated me and my sister like their own. We filled a need. Mitch and Barb have had to go their whole lives with an empty nest.
They’re silent for a moment, and Barb composes herself before speaking again. I have to really strain to hear her. “Do you think you will want children, honey?”
Taylor clears her throat a little awkwardly. “You know, I haven’t really thought about it. I’m young right now. There are things I want to do first.” My stomach lurches at her words. I stifle a cough and steady myself on the doorframe.
“What would you like to do more than being a momma then, honey?”
“Have my own little business. I love baking. It’s what I’m good at. I used to work in a bakery, and I loved it.”
“Well, you know what they say about the way to a man’s heart. I think you’re on the right track.”
“I hope so.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I’ve even got a name for the bakery: ‘Taylor-Made Bakes.’ What do you think?”
“That’s adorable. I think with how you bake and how lovely you are, you’ll achieve anything you put your mind to, honey!” The tenderness in Barb’s voice is so sweet and genuine, and I wish I could feel the same way about Taylor’s plans. She deserves to be happy, but her plans run contrary to what I want.
Maybe the others are right. Maybe she’s too young. Maybe I should have bid on someone older. Or maybe I should have been upfront with her about what I want from our relationship.
I just had a feeling about her. A feeling I can’t explain even to Maverick and Clint who know me better than anyone. When I picture another one of the girls from the auction in this kitchen, it doesn’t feel right.
I cup the back of my neck, pressing against the tension. I shouldn’t have imagined that any girl would be an unmolded piece of clay just waiting for my hand, and listening in on this private conversation is tipping me into negative territory again.
When I enter the kitchen, Taylor’s eyes seem to search my expression. Am I wearing my disappointment, or is she still thinking about the locked door and resenting me? All I want to do is wrap my arms around her and convince her that being a momma to my children is the only dream she needs.
I’m an asshole.
“Coffee?” I ask.
Taylor immediately jumps to her feet, but I motion for her to sit. “I can manage coffee.”
I stand against the kitchen counter with my thoughts still racing, setting the machine in motion. My son’s face flashes into my mind, his sweet, rounded cheeks and fluffy hair. I never had the chance to be a father to my son, but should that loss drive me to push for something Taylor might not want? When we had sex, she didn’t ask me to wear protection, though. Could she be ignorant of the mechanics of how women get pregnant? Or is there something else going on?
Barb asks Taylor for her carrot cake recipe as I take a pastry from the cooling rack and savor the flavor of almonds and cherries in flaky, buttery pieces.
Taylor has a dream worth pursuing. What kind of man would I be if I suppress that for my own needs? Not a man my mom or Barb would be proud of.
But I know what I want.
And I will have it.