CHAPTER 13 #3
“Like a doll?” Helen stopped moving her feet and faced Earlene.
“Yes. Something like that.”
Seeming satisfied with her answer, Helen and Tucker continued to look, Tucker going as far as into the hallway to see if it had fallen off there.
He returned, shaking his head. “Didn’t see it, but don’t worry, it’ll show up.
I’ll tell the girls and Emily to be on the lookout for it, too.
” He stood back from Earlene, whose hand lay clutched at her neck while her other hand rested on the table as if for support, watching her as he had once watched Susan, waiting for an outburst or a complete meltdown.
Lillian stood, defusing the tension. “Let’s all go into the parlor and Odella can serve us coffee in there.
I promise you that we’ll find it, Earlene.
” She moved to Earlene’s side and slid her hand into the crook of Earlene’s arm without asking first. As Earlene led her from the dining room, Lillian squeezed her arm hard, hard enough to hurt, and was rewarded with an angry and surprised look from Earlene.
Good, thought Lillian. She’s not like Susan, after all.
It wasn’t until they’d reached the parlor that Lillian thought to wonder why Earlene could have been so panicked over the loss of a simple necklace.
I barely followed the conversation following dinner, being too worried about finding my angel charm. The chain I’d been using was old and the clasp must have broken and I berated myself for not having purchased a new chain.
Unable to contain my restlessness and eager to return home to see if the charm might have fallen off there, I waited for a lull in the conversation and stood to excuse myself.
I’d driven my car to the house, not willing to take another open-cart ride under the old oaks at night again, so I was disappointed when Tucker stood, too, and told me that he would walk me out.
I didn’t want company, especially his. There’s something about the way she carries herself that makes her stand out anyway.
It’s like she’s used to leading a parade or something, and that even without the parade behind her, she can’t help but walk as if she were still up front.
At first I thought he’d discovered my secret, and then quickly dismissed the idea.
I had no doubt that I’d be heading back to Savannah with a hastily packed trunk and a car full of unanswered questions if that had been the case.
But while I’d been sitting at the table and listening to Tucker describe me to Helen, the repercussions of what would happen when my deception became known had become illuminated in my mind.
I’d always been headstrong, always leaping before I looked, and this plan had been no exception.
My only excuse was that it had given me a reason to get up in the morning for the first time in over six years.
I think George had known it, too, or he would never have allowed me to do something so stupid.
I’d have to figure something out—something that would salvage my relationship with the family I had grown to like; and I hoped that the lost angel charm wouldn’t force my hand before I was ready.
I said my good nights before preceding Tucker to the front door. He opened it for me and then surprised me by following me outside into the humid summer night air that lay as thick on our skins as marsh mud.
“I’m heading to the stables to check on Captain Wentworth. Thought maybe you’d like to come.” His words weren’t warm or inviting, but he sounded sincere.
I nodded, my reason for agreeing unclear even to me. “Sure,” I said, then turned with him and began to walk in the direction of the stables. “Do you always tuck your horses in at night? I thought Andi Winkle was your stable manager.”
“She is, and she does a great job. But sometimes we get a horse who was so abused that they need a little help before they can trust humans again. Those are the ones I give a little extra TLC to. And Captain Wentworth—well, he always gets a bit nervous when we leave him in the stall, so I make it a practice to check on him a few times to let him know that nobody’s forgotten him. ”
We walked the rest of the way in silence, watching as the sun dipped lower in the horizon, filling the pastures and marshes with golden light before slowly stealing all the color, wrapping them up with night.
I wanted to ask him why he’d taken leave from his medical practice and moved to his grandmother’s farm, and why he rescued horses now instead.
But I knew that the answer lay close to his grief, an uneasy alliance and unreliable bedfellow, so I remained silent, not willing to spoil the peaceful night.
As we approached the barn a horse whinnied, calling out to us, and I looked at Tucker. “Is that Captain Wentworth? He must know you’re coming.”
Tucker slid a sidelong glance at me as he paused to let me enter the barn first. “That’s actually the first time he’s done that. I would think he probably recognized your footsteps because they’re so different from everybody else’s.”
I bit back my defensive remark and instead concentrated on its implications as we approached the first stall. Captain Wentworth watched warily as we approached, and when I drew near he stretched his head toward me, but when I reached my hand up to pat his nose, he jerked back.
Before I could lower my hand again, Tucker grabbed my wrist. “Keep holding it up so he can see your hand’s empty.”
I nodded to show I understood and his hand fell away.
Tentatively, Captain Wentworth stuck his head out again and I reached for him, my hand resting on his long nose as he stood still for me, allowing me to pet him.
Sensing his trust in me, I stepped closer and he allowed me to pat his powerful neck and scratch him around the ears like a big dog, just the way my horse Fitz had liked.
“Have you ridden him, yet?” I asked, as Captain Wentworth began nuzzling around my shirt, stretching downward to reach my pockets in search of a treat.
“No. He’s not ready. I don’t know how he’d handle a rider right now.
Besides, his hooves are still healing. He had some nasty infections when I first got him.
Took a while before we could get close enough to shave off the overgrown hooves because they must have been hurting him something bad.
Maybe in another week or so we can try putting a rider on him.
We’ll need a pretty experienced rider for that, though. ”
I didn’t look up at him, feeling his full gaze on me. “It’s a good thing you’re an experienced rider, then.”
Tucker had picked off a single straw from a stack of clean hay as we’d passed it, and begun chewing on an end.
“Yeah, I guess so. Although he tends to prefer women.” He pretended to think for a minute.
“With her gumption and your training, maybe Lucy will be ready to ride him in a week or so. She’ll certainly think so.
” His face erupted into a wide grin, and my heart squeezed a little as he spoke about his daughter with such pride.
I pictured the diminutive Lucy demanding to ride the huge horse and couldn’t help smiling, too. “Yeah, I can picture it.”
Captain Wentworth nuzzled my side again, continuing his search for something good to eat.
I felt comfortable and at ease, something I hadn’t expected, and I wasn’t sure if it was the proximity of the horse who reminded me of my old self, or the man who stood next to me.
His own vulnerability made me feel strong again, and when I looked at him, I saw the man who could heal damaged horses and had once loved playing pranks on his family but who had been afraid of thunderstorms.
Captain Wentworth bumped me with his nose and I stumbled backward, caught by surprise.
I grabbed his neck to keep my balance, pressing my face in against him and smelling the old familiar horse scent—the same scent that still made me wary, though I was no longer afraid of it.
I had left that fear behind as I’d stood outside the lunge ring watching Tucker and Captain Wentworth, replaced now with something more like apprehension and a different kind of fear altogether.
But as long as I remained on the ground, my fear of failure was as elusive as a moonflower bloom at dawn.
“Hey, boy,” I said, rubbing his nose, “what’s wrong? Why the long face?”
Tucker snorted. “That’s the oldest joke in the book.”
I turned to him, trying to keep a straight face. “Then why are you laughing?”
We laughed together for a few minutes until we both seemed to realize where we were and whom we were with. Our smiles gradually faded as we stared at each other. Tucker finally broke the silence. “You really should laugh more, you know. You’re beautiful when you do.”
Embarrassed, I turned back to Captain Wentworth and fumbled for something to say.
“My grandmother told that joke to me when we bought my first horse. It was sort of an ongoing joke for a long time.” Until her presence at events became superfluous and all that remained was my desire to be the best. Quietly, I added, “I’d almost forgotten it until now. ”
I gave Captain Wentworth a final pat and stepped back. “Good night, big guy. We’ll see you tomorrow. And I promise to bring a treat.”
We walked past the other stalls, including those of the new ponies, giving a pat to whoever stuck out a nose, exiting the building on the opposite side.
Full dark had fallen, leaving a moonless sky scattered with stars and gathering clouds.
Tucker held out his arm. “The path can be rough going at night. It might be best if you held on.”
I wanted to refuse, to ignore my stiff knee if only for one beautiful night and pretend I was the woman with two good legs who everybody believed was headed for great things. I grabbed his elbow and held on, grudgingly thankful.
When we reached my car, he held the door open for me as I got in, then stood back, his hands in his pockets.
“You don’t have to watch me leave, Tucker. I know the way.”
“I know that. I’m just . . . contemplating.”
His tone, usually so remote, welcomed me in this time, as if he wanted me to question him. As if our sharing of laughter over a bad joke had breached a small portion of the wall between us. “Contemplating what?”
His eyes were focused over the top of my car toward the alley of towering oaks. The night was still, the trees keeping quiet. “Whether or not I should go out tonight or stay at home and read a story to my little girls.”
The roll of emotional adviser was a new one to me.
Before I’d come to Asphodel, I’d always considered myself to be the most damaged person I knew.
My scars were deep, but I was beginning to learn that they weren’t as permanent as I’d once believed, and many of them were self-inflicted.
But the loss of a wife and mother was forever, regardless of the circumstances.
I got out of the car and stood in front of him.
“I know I’m still pretty much a stranger to you, and you probably weren’t even asking a question you expected me to answer, but I don’t feel right driving away without trying to answer you anyway.
” I took a quick breath, waiting for him to stop me before I could continue.
When he didn’t move, I said,“It would seem to me that Sara and Lucy would benefit more having you here.”
“You think so?” As if remembering that I was there, he shifted his eyes from the trees to me, dark pools of shadow backlit from the lights of the house.
“Their mother certainly didn’t benefit from my presence.
” He seemed to consider his next words for a moment.
“She thought she would be better off dead than living with me.”
I touched his arm, his skin cool and clammy. “You told me that you didn’t love Susan enough. But what about your daughters? Do you feel the same about them?” I waited for him to answer, not completely sure what he would say.
“I love them more than enough. More than I ever thought possible,” he said softly. “But what if Susan was right? That they’re all better off without me?”
I felt his hurt while I grappled with my own shame.
Had that been the reason my grandmother had retreated from my life?
From reading her scrapbook and listening to Lillian’s stories of their childhood, I had learned that Annabelle O’Hare had once been a strong-minded, independent woman.
Had my own selfishness driven her to recede into the shadows?
Or had something else happened first, and I’d simply been the catalyst to finish the job?
I leaned toward him. “My grandmother gave me something with a Latin verse on it that means ‘Be patient and strong; someday this pain will be useful to you.’ She was also the person who used to tell me to get back on the horse whenever I fell. It took me a long time to realize that they mean the same thing. And she was probably right on both counts.”
I felt his warm breath on my face as we continued to stare at each other in the dim light. The wind had begun to pick up, the restless oaks behind us beginning their odd whistling as if summoning a storm.
“It’s always a lot easier to give advice than it is to take it, isn’t it?”
I pulled back, stung. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything,” I said, stumbling toward my car, feeling suddenly embarrassed about my limp.
I slid into the car behind the wheel and slammed the door.
My chest rose and fell with indignation, even as the realization bloomed that he was right, and that I was angrier with myself than with him.
I thought back on the last six years during which I’d wallowed in my own misery while my grandmother was left alone.
How many days had that been? How many hours and minutes had I let pass between us like wind through leaves, not even bothering to look up and see how they glistened when they moved?
Without reaching out to the one person who held all the answers long before I ever thought to ask the questions.
Keeping my eyes focused on the swaying moss in the trees, I said, “Just don’t let Susan be right.
You’re here, and she’s gone. And those two little girls are upstairs now.
” I didn’t wait for him to answer. Instead I turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the house and into the whistling oaks just as the first drops of rain began to fall.