Chapter 5 Chase
CHASE
“You’re doing what now?” My sister glares at me from the doorway of the spare room in her duplex. I’ve been holed up in this tiny space since being released from the hospital after my accident. The longest five months of my life.
I continue to pull my clothes out of the dresser in the corner of the postage-stamp-sized bedroom, tossing them in the duffel bag on the bed. “How many different ways can I explain it, Ada?”
“You can’t shack up with your best friend’s wife,” she tells me in no uncertain terms.
I mutter a curse as the drawer I slam shut clips my finger. “For fuck’s sake, we’re not shacking up. I’m helping with the twins and her flower business while Linda’s out of the country.” I turn and face her. “I figured you’d be happy to get rid of me.”
“First, watch your language,” she says with a tilt of her chin. “Second, as a matter of fact, you are cramping my style. I met a guy the other night and—”
I clamp my hands over my ears. “La la la la la la.”
“Dude. I’m an adult.”
“You’re my baby sister. I don’t want to hear about your sex life.”
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice becomes more serious as she tugs on the end of her honey-colored braid.
Her eyes are the same pale gray as mine, but infinitely gentler.
My sister can light up a room with a smile that comes as naturally to her as breathing, which is probably why she’s such a popular elementary school teacher. “You don’t like kids.”
“I like them better than chicken pox.”
“They compare favorably to a communicable disease. A rousing endorsement.”
“You know I have a debt to repay. I don’t like that hanging over my head.”
“You’re sure this is the right way to go about it?”
“It’s the only way.”
“Molly McAllister’s a sweetheart, Chase. She volunteers for every class party and school fundraiser. She’s good at all of it—from the decorating cupcakes to her flower arrangements. You’d think Martha Stewart was her grandmother.”
I blink. “What the hell does that mean?”
“She makes things beautiful.”
“What does that have to do with me? She sprained her ankle, not her fingers. If she wants to decorate cupcakes, more power to her. I’m there to drive her kids around and help her take care of the flower farm.
Cupcakes aren’t in the job description.” I could certainly think of some creative uses for icing where Molly is concerned.
“You don’t like her.”
I zip up the duffel and turn to face my little sister.
Thank god she isn’t a mind reader because that last thought definitely wouldn’t fall under the heading of Ada approved.
“First you accuse me of shacking up, which I’m not.
I’ll be staying in the trailer and coming back here or over to Ray’s to shower, shave, and—”
“Use the Poo-Pourri spray,” she reminds me.
“I’ve been using the Poo-Pourri, Ada. Your crapper smells like a damn field of lavender. The point is, I’m not playing house with Molly, and I never said I didn’t like her.”
“You made it clear without words.”
I hope Ada takes my low growl as a hint. I’m sure as hell not admitting to my far-too-nosey sister that my opinion of Molly has done a complete one-eighty in the span of a day.
It’s better if everyone, Molly included, keeps believing I don’t think much of the sweet widow with a soft smile and sad eyes.
Unlike Teddy, damsels in distress never did it for me.
But Molly has made it clear she’s not a woman who needs saving.
I not only believe her, I like her more because of it.
“This isn’t right,” my sister insists, tapping her booted foot against the hardwood floor. “You haven’t been right since the accident, Chase. Watching that bull—”
“I know what happened.” I sigh and hang my head. “Hell, half of Skylark saw Black Tornado trample me.”
“Half the town wasn’t at the hospital. It was me who spent hours outside the ICU. They weren’t sure if you were going to make it. And later, no one could guarantee you would walk again.”
“Yet, here I am.” I hold out my arms. “The picture of health.”
I know I’m not fooling either of us but ignore the bead of sweat trailing between my shoulder blades. The reminder of that night, and the hell that was my months-long recovery, always triggers some kind of physical reaction. Never a good one.
“Are you sure you can handle this?”
“I’m wiping the slate clean with the McAllisters.” I don’t mention Linda’s promise to sell me her property when she gets back to town or how Molly’s admission that she wants to buy it made me second guess every plan I have for the future. “I can manage a few weeks of nannying.”
“Well, I like anything that makes you stay longer,” she says softly. “It’s good having you here.”
We both know she’s not just talking about geography. Ever since Mom got sick, Ada’s been carrying the heavy load.
It’s been over five years since our mother accidentally burned down our childhood home, but the memory hasn’t miraculously become less painful.
Ada had just moved back to town for a job at Skylark Elementary, and I was checking in by phone a couple of times a week from the road.
We hadn’t realized that Mom’s tendency to forget details and misplace her keys had progressed into full-blown dementia.
She left a pot of boiling noodles on the stove while she drove into town because, as she told us later, she’d forgotten to buy tomato sauce.
By the time Linda, Mom’s nearest neighbor, saw the plume of smoke in the sky and called the fire department, the house was engulfed.
Thirty years of memories—not all of them good—literally up in flames.
We were able to salvage a few photo albums, but everything else was gone.
It wasn’t the worst thing that happened in that house by a long shot, but it did make me aware that my sister needed more help than I was giving her.
I pulled out of the events I was scheduled to ride in over the next month and returned to Skylark to get Mom settled in the memory-care unit of a nearby assisted living facility.
Fresh out of jail, Dad had shown up the day we had the charred remains of the house bulldozed.
He’d been drunk and belligerent, ranting about how this was what Mom deserved for leaving him.
Ada hated it when Dad popped off, but I was immune to his temper, which didn’t mean I wanted anything to do with the fucker.
That didn’t stop me from coming back to Colorado more often to see my mom and offer Ada what help I could give.
I tried to coordinate my visits with events so that I’d have an excuse to get in and out.
Too much family bonding wasn’t good for any of us given our level of dysfunction.
That’s why I was home for the event that matched me with Black Tornado, a bull with a reputation for being a mean son of a bitch both in and out of the ring.
The kind of animal that didn’t just want to throw you—he wanted to make sure you never got back up.
Dad came to see me once in the hospital after the accident, but the minute he started going on about how I wasn’t all my reputation was cracked up to be, I pulled the cord for the nurse and had him kicked out.
I felt nothing, my go-to emotional state, as I watched him leave. Which is why it’s annoying as fuck that my body, particularly the empty cavity that once held my heart, seems so attuned to every emotion Molly displays—particularly the ones she tried to hide.
“Thank you for caring, Ada.” I pull her into a hug. “You’re a better person than anyone in this family deserves.”
“I know,” she agrees and pats me on the back. “Not a chance I’m going to let you forget it.”
I don’t bother grabbing my toiletries from the bathroom. Like I told my sister, I’ll be coming here or going to Ray and Janice’s for running water.
It’s a short drive over to the Grimshaw ranch where I’ve got my Airstream parked and Fancy stabled.
Unlike most guys who retire from the rodeo circuit, Ray didn’t start running cattle or training horses.
He and his wife, Janice, bought land, but Ray went back to school for a teaching degree.
I lucked out to have him for American History sophomore year.
He became my mentor and friend, and we stayed in touch over the years.
He’s also the one who drove me to physical therapy appointments before I was cleared to drive. Unlike my sister, he didn’t ask questions about whether my recovery was physical or mental. When I told him I was retiring, he nodded and said I had a good run and should be proud of myself.
Proud is another emotion I don’t do, so I’m taking his word on that. It sure beats having my dad’s voice in my head.
“So you’re going to be looking after a couple of first graders,” he says as he watches me load Fancy into the trailer after I dropped off the Airstream. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“You sound like Ada. Why does everybody think I have something against kids?”
“It’s the way your lip curls every time an ankle biter approaches at an event to ask for your autograph,” Janice suggests from where she’s standing next to her husband.
Ray chuckles. “Yeah, that’s why.”
“Kids love a sneer. It’s part of my lore.” That’s a term I overheard my sister using, and I like it.
“It’s part of your DNA.”
My gut clenches in an automatic denial.
“I don’t mean it like that,” Ray says, reading my reaction. “You aren’t like your father. It’s just that some people are kid folks and some are horse folks.”
I shut the trailer behind Fancy, and then turn to face my friend. “I’m driving the twins to activities and helping with Molly’s flower business.” I take off my hat and run a hand through my hair. “Shit, you guys. It’s not like I hate kids.”
“You better watch that potty mouth.” Janice points a finger at me. “Little pitchers have big ears.”
“I never understood that saying,” I mutter.
“Cut the cursing,” Ray clarifies.
“I can do that.”
They offer matching snorts.
The habit of swearing like a sailor won’t disappear overnight, but I’ve got to start somewhere. “I can try.”
“Of course you can.” Janice steps forward to hug me. “It’s a good thing, what you’re doing for Teddy’s widow and those kids.”
“Paying off one debit, but I still owe the two of you. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” I tell her.
She pulls away and narrows her eyes. “You’re family, Chase. Even if we’re not related by blood. And don’t act like you’re saying goodbye forever. This is the first step to you putting down roots in Skylark, where you belong.”
I swallow against the unfamiliar tightness in my throat. “Thank you for saying that.”
Ray claps me on the shoulder with a firm grip. “You bring those kids over to meet the goats when you get a chance. Kids love goats, and ours need the attention.”
Ray and Janice’s place is on the opposite end of town from Linda’s house, and it’s half past five when I pull in with the horse trailer.
Curtains flutter in the house’s front window as I’m unloading, but no one comes out to greet me, so I decide it’s best to get Fancy settled in the barn before I knock on the door again.
I’ve had my horse since she was a yearling and can tell she’s looking down her nose at moving from Ray’s well-appointed barn to the stall at the McAllisters’, which needs quite a bit of TLC.
But Fancy trusts me implicitly, a sentiment that goes both ways.
Our relationship is the most committed I’ve ever had with a female, and has seen me through a lot of life’s ups and downs.
“It’s going to be fine,” I assure her as she checks out her new digs. She offers a doubtful whinny in response, but seems happy enough once I give her fresh oats and hay.
“What’s his name?” a voice says from behind me.
I turn to see Laurel staring at Fancy, and once again, I’m struck by how much she looks like her father.
“Her name is Fancy.”
“She looks fancy,” she says as she moves closer, obviously fascinated by the animal, who’s chestnut coat gleams.
“Exactly.”
Her gaze flicks to me. “Can I ride her?”
“Sure,” I answer immediately, then shake my head. “I mean, if your mom says it’s okay.”
She scrunches up her nose. “Mom’s scared of horses.”
“She mentioned that.”
“Does Fancy bite?”
“She’s as gentle as a lamb.” I reach into my coat pocket and take out the carrot I grabbed from Ada’s refrigerator on my way out the door. “You want to feed her a snack?”
The excitement on the girl’s face makes me feel like I offered her a pet unicorn. She takes the carrot from my hand and steps forward without an ounce of trepidation. “She likes it when you talk sweet.”
Laurel shoots me a dubious glance, also pure Teddy, before focusing on the horse. She looks at the carrot in her hand then up again as she reaches her arm out. “Hey, Fancy. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”
The horse takes the carrot gently because she is, indeed, a good girl. Then she snuffles against Laurel’s palm, earning a bright giggle as the girl strokes her velvet head.
“I think she likes me,” she says.
“She definitely likes you. She also likes being scratched between her eyes.”
“I’m so going to convince Mom to let me ride her.”
“Good luck with that. Speaking of, does your mom know you’re out here?”
“Yeah, she told me to tell you she’s making dinner.”
Shit. “I should be helping with that.”
“Probably,” Laurel agrees but continues to pet the horse.
“Maybe we should both be helping.” I glance down at my dusty clothes and decide fresh ones will have to wait. “What’s for supper?”
“Spaghetti,” Laurel says. “With Mom’s homemade sauce.”
“Your mother made homemade sauce?”
“A while ago. She got it from the freezer.”
“Is your mom a good cook?”
Laurel lets out her own sort of snuffle. “Duh, she’s the best.”
“I can’t cook for sh...” The kid’s eyes cut to me when I stop mid-curse word. But, hell, I stopped. “I’m a terrible cook, but I’m a pro at dishes.”
She’s quiet momentarily and then says, “Mom doesn’t like to admit she needs help, but she does.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” I assure her, thinking this isn’t going to be quite as hard as I thought.
I don’t know what my sister and Ray and Janice were talking about.
Laurel and I are getting along like peas and carrots, which is a great start.
There’s a decent chance the whole thing will be easy-peasy.