12 Borrowing Trouble (26 page)

It would just rip her heart out more than it already had been.  She and Dylan had said all they needed to say to one another.
She ran into Chris at the doorway, and he had on that damned hat that Dylan had given him.  His lucky hat.  The emotion she was just barely holding back shot forward and rolled over her lower lids.  She pushed past her son into the house and went to the bedroom she had formerly occupied.  It was empty again, except for the hanging clothes in the closet.  Carrie went to the closet and took a big armful off of the rod, stopped a minute to breathe and get herself under control, then stepped back.  Her eyes snagged on a black bag hidden under a lightweight coat.  He’d given her toys back.  That was something else she was throwing away when she got to the ranch.  She would never need them.  Ever.

Her one and only dip into the
world of exciting, creative—kinky sex was done.  Carrie would never be able to do anything like that again and not think of Dylan.  They had delved into it together, and it had been an experience she would never forget.  It was fun, but it also was done. She would never have the confidence or nerve to do that with another man. 
Because she’d trusted him, and he’d let her down in the worst way.

“
Mommy, I want to take my saddle.  Maybe I’ll get another pony…” Izzy said sadly from the doorway.  Carrie woke up and jumped back inside the closet to grab the hanger with the coat.  She shuffled her clothes and covered it.

“It will be a long while before you’ll need it.  Just leave it here, we’ll get it later.”  Or never.

Chris stepped into the doorway behind Izzy, and his eyes were equally sad.  “I miss Dylan.  I wanted to say goodbye, but Zane said he left.”

Carrie swallowed hard, and held her son’s eyes.  “Yeah, he’s gone back to the rodeo.”

“I want to go back to New Hope.  I don’t want to go to grandpa’s ranch.”

“What you d
id made that impossible, Chris.”  If he brought that trouble to New Hope’s doorstep, those thugs found him there, all those good people would be in danger too.  If they found out what he’d done, he would be kicked out, and they would report it to the court.  “This is another result of things we all have to sacrifice because of the bad choices you made.”

“I know
,” he said dragging his eyes away to look down.  “I just made friends there, and we were supposed to start learning to rope.  I’ll miss Billy too. He’s mean sometimes, but he knows a lot about rodeo, and he’s a good teacher.”

“Think about that next time you decide to do something as stupid as what you did.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Chris said and turned to run down the hall.  Her son was growing up.  He was almost six inches taller than her already.  He needed to grow inside as fast as he was outside.  Hopefully, this lesson would help his mind and spirit to catch up with his grownup looking body.  He was almost fourteen years old.  It was now or never.  Dylan missed the mark, but hopefully her son wouldn’t.

***

Carrie was glad to finally be able to unpack her kitchen stuff.  Zane had finished the kitchen just in the nick of time for her to be able to bake the small three-tiered anniversary cake Terri needed for the weekend.  He’d completed the remodeling in record time, just under three weeks to install a new wall oven and dishwasher, and add counter space by knocking out a wall to the useless summer kitchen. It was remarkable.  That man had been out here until the wee hours of the morning hammering, working his ass off, in every spare moment he had.  And he’d done a fantastic job.  Carrie smiled, looking around at her freshly painted warm butter-colored walls and white cabinets.  It sure beat the dark, aged paneling that had been in there before. 

But it was almost the weekend, and she had a cake to bake.  And she was cooking supper for Zane as a thank you.  Anything but fish, he’d said when she asked what he wanted.

Carrie was a fantastic baker, but she sucked at anything else.  Sean had complained often that her roast was tougher than his boot.  She had to agree.  But she was pretty good at spaghetti, so that’s what she was making.  And she’d baked the French bread to make the garlic bread yesterday, so if nothing else that would be good.

Chris walked into the kitchen smiling.  It was good to see him smiling again.  He slapped that damned hat that taunted her every day on his head.  She wanted to throw it away, but knew it would break his heart
, so she hadn’t. 

“Where you going?” she asked as she turned the first cake out of the pan onto the wire baking rack to cool.

“I’m going to finish planting the seed in the south pasture,” he said, and the grownup tone in his voice made her heart wiggle in her chest.  “Then I’m going to clean Yogi’s stall.”

Chris
was doing so well.  He’d been to the little church in town twice now, and had met some new friends.  “That sounds good, honey.  Be careful on that tractor, and take some water with you.  It’s hot out there.” 

That tractor was small, definitely something he could handle after her father had given him lessons in driving it, but it was old, and temperamental.  Just like her daddy.  When her parents left for the final time in that rental truck, Carrie had been a blubbering idiot, but seeing the excitement on their faces had made it all better.  It was tough being in this house without them, but this was what they all needed.
  “I have to go deliver this cake tomorrow morning.  You can go with me if you want to see Joel and Terri.”

His face lit up, but then fell.  “Dylan’s not there, so I can’t ride the bull again.”

“But Zane will be there.  He’s the riding instructor now, so maybe he’ll give you a lesson,” Carrie suggested.  She didn’t want to talk about Dylan.  She thought about him enough at night, wondered how he was doing, and if he missed them as much as she missed him.  If he even thought about her.  He was probably too busy partying with his friends and chasing buckle bunnies.  That thought caused her stomach to roll, like it had been doing a lot lately when she thought of him. 

Maybe if she ate, the acid in her stomach would settle down, but she just didn’t want to.

Tonight she was going to eat, and eat well.  And she was absolutely not going to think about Dylan Thomas and what he might be doing wherever he was.  Zane was coming to have dinner with them, and she was going to enjoy it.  Dammit.

“Where’s your sister?” Carrie asked, as she used a crumb brush to clean off the top of the cakes.  She wiped her hands on her apron, then went to the refrigerator to get her crumb coat icing.  She’d had to buy a new, bigger refrigerator too.  All of the two thousand dollars was gone, but she had a very nice new kitchen she could do commercial baking in.

“She’s out at the barn feeding Yogi treats.  She going with us to the R & R?  She misses that dam—“ Chris’s eyes flew to hers and he cleared his throat.  “Um, she misses that pony.  It’s all she talks about.”

The phone on the wall rang, and Chris ran around the counter to answer it.  Carrie’s heart stopped when he squealed, “Dylan!”  His eyes flew to hers, and his face was so damned happy, Carrie wanted to vomit.  In fact her stomach lurched, and she slapped a hand over
her mouth as she dropped the bowl of icing on the counter and ran for the bathroom.

“
Mom
!” Chris yelled behind her, but she didn’t stop.  She slammed the bathroom door, then lost the coffee and toast she’d managed to get down this morning.  Carrie took deep even breaths, and held her stomach until it stopped rolling.  A knock sounded at the door, and she didn’t answer.  “Mom, Dylan wants to talk to you before we hang up.”

“Tell him I don’t want to talk to him,” she croaked through her raw vocal chords.

She heard a frustrated harrumph, then heard his retreating footsteps.  She got to her feet, then brushed her teeth.  With a final garble of mouthwash, she took a deep breath then went back to the kitchen.  Chris was waiting for her, and from the look on his face he was angry.

“Mom, he just wanted to talk to you.  To see how you were doing.  He said to tell you to call him.  His number is in that envelope he left for you.”

“I thought you were going to plant that seed?” Carrie did not want to talk about Dylan Thomas, especially with her son, who obviously adored the man.

“He’s going to be in town with the rodeo next week.  He wants us to go see it.  Go see him,” Chris said belligerently.  “If you don’t go, I am.
  I won’t get to see him until the end of the year if I don’t go.  He’s heading to Minnesota next.”

One phone call from Dylan, and her son was back to his old stubborn mode of operation.  She didn’t want Chris around him.  “No,” she said flatly.

He stomped his boot, and growled, “I’m going, whether you say I can or not.  You might not like him, but I do.”

“I like him, I just don’t want you around him,” she said evenly
, giving him a hot look.  “I’m not arguing about it Chris.  It’s not open for discussion.  Now, do your chores, or you won’t go to that social tomorrow night.”

He ground out his frustration in his boot heels
, as he stomped out of the room.  Carrie sighed and put the first coat of icing on her cakes.  Her eyes snagged on a box by the bay window behind the table in the small eating nook.  The corner of a yellow mailing envelope stuck just above the rim.  She was not going to open that damned envelope.  Not doing it.  She dragged her eyes and her mind back to the cakes.

After a few minutes, she gave up fighting it.  Curiosity was killing her.  It had been
killing her since she’d seen it.  It was easy to forget when she didn’t know where it was.  Out of sight out of mind, even though the man who had given it to her never was.  She finished the coat of icing on the last cake, then wiped her hands on a dishtowel. 

Her feet felt like they were buried in cement as she walked to the box.  She stared at the
envelope for a second.  Opening it could be opening Pandora’s box.  Once it was open, once she knew what was in the bulky package, there was no going back.  It also meant she was willing to hear what he had to say.  Cared what he had to say, and was willing to listen.  Her hands shook as she bent to pick it up.  Her knees felt so weak, she sat at the table, before she slid her fingernail under the flap to open it.  Her heart was pounding as she shoved her hand inside.  It beat even harder when she slid out the contents onto the lace tablecloth.

She moved the folded yellow note, and saw the black
lace panties.  The vibrator wasn’t in the pouch, but it was there too.  Memories flashed through her mind, and heat poured through her to pool at the top of her thighs.    She pressed her thighs together and shoved the panties and vibrator back into the envelope.  The rest of the toys were at the local landfill.  She’d wrapped them in five layers of smelly trash to make sure the garbage man didn’t get a surprise.

She’d keep that vibrator, because she might very well need it later.  But she didn’t miss the fact that
the remote wasn’t included in the package, so it was useless.  On the way out of the envelope, her hand brushed something she’d left in the envelope.  She pulled out a wooden spoon with a tiny red heart drawn in marker in the center of it. 

Now that peaked her curiosity.  He’d given her a wooden spoon?
 

The only way she’d know why would be to read the letter.  Taking a deep breath, she picked it up, but her hand shook so violently, she had to stop a minute to take deep breaths to calm herself, before she unfolded it. 
  The words blurred before they cleared and she could read them.  She scanned it first, and saw his neat, slanted writing got shaky and almost illegible toward the end of the page, before she dragged her eyes back to the top.

Carrie,

I’m sorry that things turned out the way they did between us.  I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I know I did.  Not telling you about what was going on with Chris was a mistake.  Making that promise to him not to tell you was stupid.  I wanted to keep the communication open between us is the only excuse I can come up with, but there’s really no excuse for it.  He’s gotten himself into a fix, and I have faith that you’ll do what’s best for him.  You’re a good mother.  My best advice is to call the police and let them know what’s going on, let the judge know.  That’ll be tough, but at least then he’ll learn how to do what’s right.  Unlike what I did.  I would suck as a father, but I guess you know that now.  That is why I’m glad you didn’t get pregnant from our slip ups.  I wouldn’t want any kid to have a father like me.  Take care of yourself, and stay safe.  Be careful out there at that ranch by yourself.  They don’t know where you’re at, and that’s a good thing, but always watch your back, baby.

If you ever, ever need me, call.  My number is at the bottom.  I’ll miss the hell out of you and the kids.  Despite doing my
damndest not to, I’ve gotten attached to y’all.  Tell Izzy and Chris I said I’ll talk to them soon.  I’ll talk to you too, if you’ll let me.

By the time she reached his name at the bottom, tears were pouring down her face, dripping on the bottom of the letter, smearing it.  She tossed the letter down and scrubbed her face with the hem of
her apron.  She did not want her kids to see her crying and ask questions.  But she had to know what the spoon and old rusted key were about.  Sucking in a breath, she picked up the letter again, used the apron to dry the paper, then read the PS at the bottom.