17. Sadie
17
SADIE
S trange how the mind operates in sleep.
I’m dreaming of walking on a beach. The clouds over the ocean are turning dark colors and groans of thunder echo over the beach, which has suddenly emptied. But despite the looming storm I can’t leave because the cries of an animal in pain are coming from somewhere up ahead. The waves bang against the beach and flashes of lightning promise danger. The cries grow louder and when I try to run the sand tries to swallow my bare feet. Up ahead there’s an outline of a man and he looks like someone I know. But before I can call out for his help, all the light disappears and I’m alone in the dark.
Even before my eyes flip open I’m aware that pieces of the dream are true. There is thunder and lightning and the bedroom is even darker than it ought to be. A thunderstorm has knocked the power out.
In an instant I’m out of bed and shoving my boots on. A rainproof jacket is grabbed from the closet to throw on over my flannel pajamas and I nearly trip over a sleeping Zeus (or maybe it’s Apollo) as I hurtle out the door.
“Stay here, boys,” I tell them and run down the stairs, colliding with a muscled barricade at the bottom.
Big hands seize my arms and pull me upright before I fall flat on my face.
“Are you okay?” Cale says.
A spear of lightning shows the evidence that he sleeps in only a pair of boxer shorts.
This shouldn’t fascinate me right now.
“I’m fine. We lost the power. But you probably already figured that out. You should put on some clothes.”
Cale releases my arms. I think I hear him chuckle but the sound is muted by another clap of thunder. On instinct I flinch and let out a strangled yelp.
Cale switches on his phone flashlight. “Do you have any real flashlights around here?”
“Top drawer in the entryway table.” I’m really trying not to be excessively aware of how close I’m standing to his naked skin.
With Cale’s phone lighting the way, I’ve just located two large flashlights when Peggy floats into view, holding a lit pillar candle and looking very ghostly.
“I heard a scream,” she says. “Who screamed?”
“That was me.” I switch on the overly bright flashlight. “Thunderstorms are not my favorite thing.”
Peggy sweeps her candle from side to side. “Where is he?”
“Cale?” I shine the flashlight all over the immediate area and see only furniture. “He was just here a second ago.”
Peggy sniffs with annoyance. “I really hope he is not stumbling around in the darkness. He’s not quite recovered from his last misadventure.” Peggy, as usual, manages to blend indignation with worry. It’s her most charming quality.
“Cale Connelly is not likely to be defeated by a power outage. I’ll go check on the hospital.” I shine the light at the hallway and try not to shudder over another rumble of thunder.
The newest patients in the hospital are housed against the far wall. I still can’t get over the way Cale saved the day earlier this week and forced James Foster to hand the dogs over.
Around here, the Foster brothers are known for two things; drunken fights in public and mistreatment of all living creatures. Gus went to high school with them and spits their names like a curse. I want to throw up when I think about what might have become of this sweet little mama and her two babies if Cale hadn’t come to the rescue.
We’ve started calling the mother Tinkerbell. Gus confirmed she’s barely old enough to have puppies and she had a few other choice comments about the disgusting Foster brothers. From the looks of Tinkerbell, she’s a mix of chihuahua and dachshund. Her two puppies have been named Peter and Wendy. They all suffered from obvious neglect but Gus found no major medical issues and believes they’ll be all right.
Tinkerbell, still skittish and feeling protective of her babies, growls at the sound of my footsteps.
“It’s me. It’s just me.” I bend down beside the pen and put my hand against the mesh. The puppies are curled up together in loveable little balls. Tinkerbell trembles for a few more seconds, then relents and sniffs my hand. Moving slowly, I reach inside and tenderly pet her behind the ears.
Once I’ve confirmed that the rest of the occupants are comfortably resting, I return to the front of the house. Peggy is still there with her pillar candle. And Cale has returned. Evidently he found some clothes.
That’s good. And bad.
“I’ll be back soon.” I flip the hood of my jacket up. Outside, the wind picks up. The rain is so loud I’m wondering if there’s hail.
“You’re not going out in this,” Peggy says in her best ‘Don’t You Dare’ tone.
In truth, I’d rather not. Every crack of thunder leaves me ready to jump out of my skin. But there are things to be done. “I need to confirm that the barn door is staying closed. I’m not sure what the horses will do in this weather. I should check on the rest of the buildings too.”
“You’ll stay here. I’ll do it.” Peggy prepares to march into a semi-hurricane with nothing but her crocheted shawl and her pillar candle.
Two months ago Peggy had pneumonia. She recovered but she is eighty years old. Next time we might not be so lucky.
Giving Peggy orders would never work. I’ll have to scrape up some diplomatic skills.
“Actually,” I say, “I was hoping you’d keep the hospital patients company. Tinkerbell and her pups are still uneasy. The storm noise must be terrifying to them.”
“I’ll go with Sadie,” Cale says.
Peggy points her candle at him. “You?”
“Sure.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I really like being out in the rain.”
“Hmm,” she says.
“Cale likes the rain,” I tell Peggy. “We’ll be back soon.”
Grabbing a large umbrella along with Cale’s thick arm, I tug him to the front door before Peggy has the chance to object.
The scene outside looks like a disaster movie. Rain slants sideways, the corners of the sky flare with constant streaks of lightning and the wind threatens to carry me off Wizard of Oz-style. Cale assumes custody of the umbrella and holds me close to his broad chest while positioning the umbrella to deflect most of the stinging rain.
In spite of the weather, this is a comfortable place to be; so close to him that I can smell his mango shower gel. Or is that my mango shower gel? No matter. He’s warm and he’s strong and the hammering of my heart can’t just be explained by my fear of the thunder crashing overhead.
Maybe Cale feels it when I flinch at the noise. His arm tightens around me more securely as we splash through puddles on our way to the barn.
It’s a relief to see that the barn door remains closed. I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe that the horses would stampede out of here or something. But no, the barn is warm and cozy and none of the horses within seem unduly upset by the noise of the storm. I make my way to them in the darkness and even cantankerous old Wylie remains calmly in his stall and nuzzles my hand.
Cale uses the powerful flashlight to sweep the area. He’s looking around the barn with more interest than he had the first time I dragged him through here on a complete tour of Bright Hearts. I know he doesn’t have much curiosity about the ranch and yet I wanted to prove that I was making the most of the opportunity he gave me. I’m not wasting his money. Every penny is put to good use.
“You have room for more horses,” he says, keeping the flashlight pointed down so it doesn’t shine directly into my eyes.
“Yes, and we will take in more. I didn’t know much about horses and needed to make sure we had all the resources in place first. Our volunteers are fabulous but I’ve also hired a part time animal care technician to help out.”
The next clap of thunder sounds as if it’s right over the barn. I don’t even realize how loud my gasp is until Cale says, “You really do hate thunderstorms, don’t you?”
“Since I was five.” I shudder and start for the barn door, feeling my way by keeping one hand stretched out to touch the individual stalls.
Cale beats me to the door and already has the umbrella popped. I’m surprised when he automatically curls his arm around me around for the march to the next building where we find the cats a little bewildered but otherwise safe and sound.
We visit The Doghouse last. A song of mournful howling combined with a chorus of barking greets our arrival.
The power is still out and the rain is still pelting down in buckets. I’m starting to feel some anxiety over flooding. What should be done when there’s flooding? I think I remember something about sandbags. I have none of those.
Oh well. Can’t be helped now.
And I’ve got my hands full, going from one kennel to the next and trying to offer comfort to dozens of anxious dogs. Some are more frightened than others. They aren’t used to being in complete darkness. There are nightlights plugged in for when the main switches are turned off at night but obviously those are of no use at the moment. In addition to the darkness, the fierce wind makes the building joints creak, the rain is practically as loud as Niagara Falls and the intermittent bangs of thunder sound as if the sky is breaking apart.
Cale trails me as I move down the row of kennels. Now and then he reaches in to offer a reassuring pat to an eager resident. The only light comes from the beam of his flashlight. I’ve set my own flashlight down in order to tend to the dogs.
Some are terrified and remain huddled on the soft flannel beds sewn by Peggy. Others think this must be playtime and shove wet noses through the metal bars.
As for Cale, he’s been very useful in escorting me through the deluge. I’m sure this isn’t his idea of a great time.
“You don’t have to stay out here,” I say. “I’m not going back to the house until the storm is over but there’s no reason for you to lose anymore sleep.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
“It’s almost one a.m.”
“Can’t adjust to your farmer’s hours. I’m a night owl.”
“Then this visit must be exceedingly boring for you.” Kneeling down, I whistle to coax a cattle dog named Ginger to the front of the run. “Hey Cale, do you mind shining the light in here?”
The beam of light captures poor Ginger shaking in terror in the far corner of the kennel run. I whistle for her again just as more thunder rumbles. Ginger shakes so hard she looks like she’s vibrating.
Slowly, I slide the kennel latch open. “I’m here, sweetheart. It’s all right.”
Her nose twitches. She crawls a few inches in my direction. After some more gentle words she inches forward on her belly. Just when my fingertips are about to touch her fur she leaps forward into my lap. She’s not tiny and if not for Cale moving with whirlwind speed I would have fallen to my back.
“Hail to the reflexes,” I say while trying to adjust to weight of the petrified dog.
Cale reaches for one of the fleece blankets piled on a nearby shelf. He unfolds it and covers Ginger. She feels secure enough to settle down a tiny bit. I’m able to shift to a cross legged pose and adjust her position so that she’s lying across my lap with her head on my knee.
I stroke her soft fur and although the next growl of thunder isn’t as loud, she still trembles. “I know, sweet girl. I don’t like it either.”
Cale drops to the floor at my side. He sets the flashlight down and points it at the opposite wall so we’re not sitting in complete darkness. He draws his knees up, perhaps because it’s more comfortable for him. His slight grunt when as he shifts his posture could be due to pain, although he hasn’t mentioned any pain in days.
A spectacular blast of lightning makes the room glow for a split second. Spots dance in front of my eyes.
Cale’s arm brushes my shoulder. “So what happened when you were five?”
I run my hand over Ginger’s soft fur. “What do you mean?”
“You said you’ve hated thunderstorms since you were five.”
“My mother died when I was five.”
Cale waits for me to say more. This isn’t a topic that comes up often so I need to reach deep and find the words.
“I don’t remember hearing about her death. I suppose I might have blocked it out. But I do remember her funeral. That night there was a really savage thunderstorm. I was afraid to stay in my room alone so I got out of bed and walked down the hall, hoping to find my father. I knocked on his bedroom door and a woman answered. She told me I was having a dream and slammed the door shut. She ended up being the first of my stepmothers. Baylor was the one who found me wandering in the hallway. He read me a story and then tucked me back into bed.”
It's a painful memory for more than one reason.
The grief over my mother’s death.
The rejection from my father.
And then kindness from my older brother, who has changed so much since then. Now we can barely carry on a conversation.
“What happened exactly?” I ask. “Between you and Baylor? For years you guys were the best of friends. Did you have a fight?”
Cale shifts again. The warmth of his body tempts me to burrow closer but I don’t dare.
“No,” Cale says. “Bay went one way and I went another.”
“It’s really that simple?”
“We don’t always become the person we think we’ll become, Sadie.”
I’ve never heard him sound like this before. Thoughtful. A little sad maybe.
As sweet Ginger relaxes in my arms, I allow Cale’s words to sink in.
I’m exactly where I’ve always wanted to be. Baylor is not. He used to balk at the idea of working for our father. He loved science and kept a large rock collection. He tossed around the idea of becoming a geologist. Now he’s running for Congress and can’t blow his nose without our father’s blessing.
In recent years I’ve felt plenty hurt by the loss of the bond my brother and I once shared. For the first time I also feel a little sorry for Baylor.
This brand new thought arc leaves me wondering about something else.
“What about you, Cale? Are you the person you thought you’d be?”
He’s so silent and immobile. After a minute I start to wonder if I’ve angered him.
But there is no anger in his voice when he says, “I’m who I need to be, Sadie.”
It’s easy to forget that a fearsome and powerful man like Cale Connelly must be fighting his own inner battles. He’s impossible to neatly categorize. His aura of calculated ruthlessness contrasts with the man who rescues mistreated dogs from the side of the road and shields me from the rain.
I’m so hungry to hear more from him.
Just as I’m struggling to come up with the proper way to urge the conversation along, Cale breaks the silence.
“I was thirteen when my father died. He was called to a fire caused by some chemicals igniting in the basement of an apartment building. When the thing fell down around him it seemed like a miracle when he walked away with just some minor burns. But the toxic smoke was too much and his lungs wound up severely damaged. He died a week later. At the time my mother was already fighting lung cancer. I’ll never know if it was the grief that caused her health to decline or if it would have happened anyway. But six months after my father died she was gone too. And that’s why me and Luca grew up in Richie Amato’s house.”
I knew Cale’s parents had died. Obviously, I also knew that he and his brother were sent to live with their uncle. He and Baylor became best buddies overnight.
Back then in my little girl mind I thought of Cale as practically an adult but of course he wasn’t. He was only a kid and the course of his life had just altered in a terrible way.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Sorry that in spite of the fact that I’d seen him hundreds of times at my house, I never really knew him.
Sorry that no matter how much I’d things to be different, I truly don’t know him much better now.
“Luca doesn’t remember our folks too well,” Cale says. “He was only four. And…well, I’m sure you know what that’s like. I can tell him all the facts, like how our Dad loved washing his old Mustang every Sunday and our Mom never started her morning without a cup of tea. But Luca will never know the way they used to look at each other. He doesn’t remember our mother singing along to Madonna songs while she washed dishes or how our father looked as he stood in the doorway when he’d check on us in the middle of the night after he finally got home from a long shift.”
An immovable lump lodges in my throat. Cale has never said so much to me at once. I’m not sure he says this much to anyone at once.
“Luca is very lucky to have you. You’re an excellent big brother.”
He sighs. “Not sure I’d agree with that. But I’ll keep trying my best to earn the title.”
“You have earned the title, Cale. You’d do anything for him, wouldn’t you?”
“I’d fall on a sword to keep Luca safe,” he says. “The day my mother died she told me to look after my brother. Then she started talking about my father. She got this far away look in her eyes and she smiled. Then she said…”
He trails off and turns away.
“What? What did she say?”
He exhales and shakes his head. “It sounds like the storm is passing.”
He’s right. The roar of the rain hitting the roof has lightened to a gentle patter and the booms of thunder grow fainter. For the first time ever I’m not glad to hear a thunderstorm fade. No doubt the end of this moment with Cale is also ending.
And I truly don’t want it to end.
I could happily remain here, crouched uncomfortably on the floor of The Doghouse with a sleeping Ginger in my lap until tomorrow afternoon. As long as Cale stayed beside me.
This, of course, is out of the question. Any minute now Cale will grow restless and the tentative spell will be broken. After all, it’s the middle of the night and we’re sitting on the floor of a dog kennel. I’m sure he has things he’d rather be doing.
However, as long as we’re both still here and still talking, there’s an unpleasant subject I need to mention.
“Cale, I have a favor to ask you.”
“No, I will not submit to another veterinary exam.”
“That’s not the favor.”
“Then ask away.”
“There’s a Wingate family thing coming up. And the man who is pretending to be my husband ought to show up.”
“What kind of family thing?”
“Hadley’s wedding. It’s the last week in May.”
“Hasn’t she had a few of those already?”
“It’ll be her third. She’s marrying a hedge fund manager. Maybe this one will stick.”
“Anything is possible.”
“That’s the spirit. Anyway, Hadley ran out of friends to alienate so I’ve been drafted as her maid of honor. I’ll be wearing a peach dress. I’m supposed to dye my hair blonde to better match the color scheme.”
“If you dye your hair blonde then I’m not going.”
“Have it your way. I won’t dye my hair.”
“Then you’ve got yourself a date,” he says.
Hearing this from him is such a relief. Hadley’s wedding is sure to be another calamitous Wingate family encounter. No matter how many passive aggressive insults are flung into the air I need to try to hold my tongue. The only thing more depressing than going to the wedding would be going alone. Knowing that I’ll have an ally by my side takes the sting out a little.
Actually, it takes the sting out A LOT. I’m also not dreading the prospect of seeing Cale again.
Because I like him.
I REALLY LIKE HIM.
The feeling is way more intense than ‘Gosh, I wouldn’t mind grabbing a burger with that guy’.
It’s been years since I’ve had a crush. Well, unless you count lusting over fictional characters from romance novels but that’s not the same.
Now I have a crush on Cale. It seems to be growing by the minute. And I’m really wishing he wasn’t my fake husband so I could sort out those emotions a little more clearly.
The power abruptly flickers and then blazes back on.
What a bummer.
Especially because this isn’t the most attractive I’ve ever looked. I’m wearing faded plaid jammies paired with cowboy boots and my hair is falling in curtains of untidy ringlets.
Cale, however, is perfect with the sexy scruff on his jaw and his muscles ready to bust out of his Sleepy Rock souvenir hoodie. The sight of him creates a ticklish storm of butterflies in my belly. I’m still busy checking him out when he wordlessly lifts Ginger from my arms and returns her to the kennel. She curls right up in her bed and shuts her eyes.
Now that life is back to normal in The Doghouse, the other residents are equally sleepy. Cale and I leave quietly and I double check the lock on the door before stepping out into the yard.
There are still trickles of rain falling from the sky but the drops feel pleasant on my face and the smell of the cool air is fresh and inspiring. Peggy’s kitchen light is on and the curtains are open to show that she sits at the table, awaiting our return. Knowing Peggy, she’ll have the kettle on for some tea.
“I’m not bored,” Cale says out of nowhere.
We face off in the darkness, although I have to tilt my head back to look up at him.
“You said my time here must be boring for me. It’s not boring, Sadie. Not at all.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Cale.”
In my twenty four years on this earth I can’t recall ever having the experience of swooning before.
I’m in very real danger of swooning right now.