8. Jake
8
Jake
The date couldn’t have gone any worse, and standing on the porch this morning, sipping my steaming coffee, I’ve started wondering what on Earth I was thinking when I agreed to it. From falling into bushes to food fights, it was like something out of a Buster Keaton movie.
If not for Keith and Bill knowing me so well, we likely would have been thrown out, even if Tilly starting the commotion was only an accident. I suppose it was fun in a way. In fact, I haven’t laughed as much in a while.
Adversely, Tilly was not impressed at all, which surprised me a little. She used to be down with all that silliness. Clearly, city life has beaten all the fun out of her. No doubt she went home and jumped straight into the shower. I mean, she did have ice cream in her hair, so I can’t blame her.
Checking my watch, I clock the time. 6:28 a.m.
The sun is well up, the birds are singing, and by the hazy sky, it’s going to be another hot one. I’ve already decided what I need Tilly to do, and feeling smugly satisfied, I smile to myself.
The sound of a diesel engine carries over on the stillness of the air, and I’m surprised to see Tilly coming down the long track. She’s right on time. After her reaction last night, I didn’t think I’d see her before 7:00.
Elsa goes nuts as Tilly reaches the house, but with a high-pitched whistle, she comes launching back to me.
“Heel,” I command. A second later, she’s sitting beside me on the porch.
“Can you not put that wolf away somewhere?” Tilly asks once she’s climbed out of her truck and walked a few feet toward the house.
Looking down at Elsa, I give the command. “Stay.” Then I place my coffee on the table and walk down the steps to meet her. “Not a chance. You’re a guest in her home, remember?”
Tilly sighs and nods, clearly not pleased by my reply.
“Great to see you came dressed for work,” I say drily, noting her overalls and boots. She’s wearing a vest top underneath that shows off the shape of her collarbones and slender throat.
She gives me a snarky smile. “Well, I was going to wear my ballgown, but it’s at the cleaners.”
“Yes, so is my tux,” I quip back. “Right. Come on. Let me show you where you’ll be working today.”
She follows at my side, but as we go, she throws a glance back over her shoulder.
“She won’t move,” I say reassuringly.
“Wow.” I can actually hear how impressed she is. “That’s a well-trained dog.”
“Her name is Elsa,” I say, feeling a little touchy at Tilly calling her “dog” all the time.
“Elsa. Right.”
We walk across the yard to the stables in silence, and then Tilly says, “I am sorry about last night. It wasn’t exactly how I expected the evening to go.”
“That’s okay.” I smile down at her as we reach the entrance. Stepping inside, I grab the spade I’ve left there and hand it to her. “Now you can make amends.”
Tilly’s eyes fly wide. She looks at me, then at the spade, and back to me again.
“You can’t be serious. You want me to—?”
“Yep.” I smirk. “Every stall apart from the one at the end needs mucking out.”
“No way!”
“Hey,” I counter, “a deal’s a deal. You said you’d be willing to do anything.” I gesture to the stables. “Off you go.”
I turn on my heel with a huge grin on my face. Even as I walk away, I’m imagining her rage-filled eyes boring into the back of my head. Finn, my largest and strongest horse, is waiting for me at the fence. We need to go and check on the cattle. It’s going to take a while, so I’m leaving Tilly to it.
By noon, it’s so hot that I can hardly breathe, and Finn and I make our way back to the house. I can’t help but wonder how Tilly’s doing. At least she’s in the shade. I wouldn’t want her collapsing from heat stroke. I’m not that cruel.
I leave Finn at the fence and wander over to the huge building that houses my horses. As I enter, my eyes widen. The place is spotless. In fact, it hasn’t looked this good in months. I really need to hire some help. I’ve just been too busy to get around to it.
The irony.
Passing each stall, I can’t seem to find her. I know she hasn’t left because Gerry’s truck is still parked outside. I reach the other end of the building, and as I get to Greta’s stall, I have to swallow a gasp.
Tilly is there, lying in the straw, softly brushing Greta’s coat.
“Hey,” I say when she looks up.
“What happened to her?” Tilly’s brow is furrowed with worry.
“She hit uneven ground when we were out riding last week. Marty came out to see her. We were worried there for a day or two, but he says she’ll be fine. She just needs a lot of rest.”
She looks back at the mare. “She’s beautiful.”
I remember Tilly being a great rider in our younger years. She loved horses. That was another reason I was so surprised when she chose the city over country life.
“Yes. Yes, she is. It’s time to eat. Come on.”
I turn and retrace my steps; a minute later, Tilly catches up, and we walk across the yard to the house. Elsa has remained on the porch the whole time, enjoying the shade, no doubt. As we reach the steps, she jumps up and moves toward us.
Once again, Tilly stops in her tracks.
“You know, you could just say hello. She won’t bite. Unless I tell her to.” I grin.
Tilly pulls a face.
I wave a hand for her to follow me up the wooden steps. Tentatively, she does, and then I say, “Just wait right there.”
She obeys as though my commands are going to save her life, and still standing beside her, I look at Elsa.
“Come.”
With her tail wagging and her ears pinned back, she pads over to me. I reach out a hand and stroke her huge head.
“Sit.”
Elsa sits.
I then turn to Tilly. “Come on. It’s fine.”
She takes a cautious step forward, stopping a foot away.
I meet Elsa’s eye again. “Shake hands.”
Elsa lifts up a paw, and Tilly’s face creases into a soft grin. “Oh, my gosh. That is so cute.” She then reaches out her hand and takes Elsa’s paw. “Hello, Elsa,” she says in a soft voice, like she’s talking to a child. She then lifts her hand and softly rubs Elsa’s head. “Her fur is so soft.”
“You act like you’ve never been around a dog before. Don’t you remember Solo, our collie?”
“Of course, I do. But Solo never came flying around the corner like the devil on all fours, barking at my car like a crazy thing.”
“That’s because he knew you,” I say logically. “Right. Food. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
Once inside, Tilly follows me to the kitchen. “Well, this place hasn’t changed,” she remarks.
“It’s changed a bit,” I say over my shoulder as I head to the fridge.
She hitches herself onto a barstool at the island. “It looks the same to me.”
“The thing you’re sitting at is new,” I say, lifting bread and meat out and placing it on the counter beside me.
“Really?” She sounds genuinely surprised. “Maybe my memory isn’t what it used to be.”
I’m about to make yet another sarcastic remark when I bite it back. I don’t want a fight. I’m too hungry to argue. Besides, I haven’t mentioned how great the stables look yet. Wouldn’t that be better? To try and keep the conversation as positive as possible under the circumstances?
“You did a great job out there today,” I say, buttering the bread.
I hear her snort behind me. “Not sure how hard it is to shovel… manure.”
I grin at her choice of words. I know what she wanted to say, but she decided to be a lady instead. Not that it would bother me. I know many great women who curse like sailors.
“Still, the stables haven’t looked that good in months.”
“Don’t you have anyone here to help you?” she asks.
I turn and slide the plate with her sandwich on it across the island. “I just haven’t had time to look for help.”
“Oh, the irony,” she says with a smirk, repeating my earlier thoughts.
Even after ten years, some things haven’t changed. We used to be completely synced, each knowing what the other was thinking. I suppose that’s the case with a lot of couples who have been together for a while. I always used to think it was pretty cool. I’m just surprised now that after all this time, there’s still a shadow of that left.
Have we both changed that much? I can’t speak for Tilly. I haven’t spent enough time with her to know. For me, probably not. I’m still the same old Jake. A little older, a lot wiser, and now, far more prudent.
For example, even though the woman I used to love is sitting not five feet away, I don’t trust her as far as I could throw her. Actually, with my strength and her slight frame, I could probably throw her pretty far, so maybe that’s a bad analogy, but the point remains.
When she left, when she abandoned me without a word of farewell or a reason for doing so, my heart did feel like someone had smashed it to pieces. I won’t lie. It was the worst pain I had ever experienced in my life. But in another way, it’s made me stronger. I had to come back from that, and like a broken bone, repairing itself to be even more dense than it was before, I did the same.
Not that I’m dense. But I am stronger. I now know what I’m capable of and how much I can tolerate. I found myself as a man, who I really was. It was enlightening, terrifying, and a lot of hard work, but I’m better for it. Which is why I won’t fall for Tilly’s charms, should she try to use them on me.
After lunch, I figure Tilly’s done enough hard labor, and giving her a far easier job, I set her to work grooming the rest of the horses in the stables. I really do need to hire some help, and after today, I realize I need it not just for myself, but for the health of my animals.
I find her again just after 5:30.
“Right, I think we can call that a debt paid,” I say, walking into the stall she’s in.
Tilly surprises me when she says, “But I haven’t finished.”
“You’ve done enough. Like I said this morning, a deal’s a deal. You’ve kept to your end of the bargain. Now, it’s time you were going.”
She genuinely looks disappointed, and I can’t help but smile. But she puts the brushes back on the shelf where they belong and after saying farewell, she heads to the truck. I watch her go, partly to make sure Elsa doesn’t terrify her to death again. Which she doesn’t. And partly because, whether I want to acknowledge it or not, I’ve actually enjoyed having Tilly around today.
Careful, Jake.
I shake my head as though I’m trying to silence my conscience. I’m not a fool. It’s been nice having her here, but not permanently. Besides, she’s made it perfectly clear that there’s nothing left between us, and I tend to agree.
Yeah. Right.