Castle Rock (7 page)

Julie raised an eyebrow. “Well, of course, the family will have to take care of things.”

The family.

Implicitly, of course, Serena was not part of the family. That would be Julie and Will and Danny.

“I see,” Serena said slowly.

“It's nice that you had something useful to do while you were staying at the ranch, Serena, but now Peter and I can take care of everything.”

Silence formed like a hard piece of ice.

Julie smiled sweetly. “And I did wonder what plans you were making?”

“Plans?” Serena felt a wave of panic.

“Yes. Of course, with the secretarial training you have had, I'm sure you can get a job in Albuquerque. We'll be glad to give you a reference.”

“A reference?”

“Of course. You can count on us. We won't need your room until the end of the week. Then Peter has some business friends coming.”

Serena pushed back her chair and turned and walked blindly out of the office. She heard Julie's voice behind her, but she wasn't listening any longer.

She had never in her worst nightmares imagined being banished from Castle Rock. Now she was being sent away and she was powerless to do anything to change a suddenly bleak future. She walked heavily up the stairs and down the hall to her room. She closed the door behind her and realized with shock and despair that the room was no longer hers.

The first pink rosy flush of dawn stained the eastern sky. Serena walked slowly down the gravel path to the stables. She went into the tack room, turning on the light. Saddles and bridles hung along the back wall. Her saddle was at the far end. She walked to it and reached up and touched the pale tan leather. Uncle Dan had given the saddle to her on her sixteenth birthday to replace the saddle she had racketed about on as a little girl.

It was a beautiful saddle, hand tooled with silver decorations, sturdy yet feminine.

She would have no use for a saddle in Santa Fe. She wouldn't have a horse.

There were riding academies.

Who would take care of Hurricane?

Hurricane was her horse. They had ridden together for eight years. Who would groom him? He loved carrots. Who would tuck one in hand then offer it when Hurricane nickered softly?

Stop it, Serena, she told herself. This is happening and you have to face it. It won't help to grieve over Hurricane. She would write Joe, ask him to look out for Hurricane, not give him to some ham-handed dude to ride.

When she had the money, she would send for Hurricane.

If, she thought bitterly, Julie would admit that he belonged to Serena. She didn't, after all, hold any bill of sale. Like the saddle, Hurricane was a gift from Uncle Dan. It had never occurred to Serena that she might someday have to prove that.

Damn it, Hurricane and the saddle were hers. So, foolish it might be, but she was going to take her saddle with her now. She reached up and swung it down.

Footsteps sounded outside the tack room. The door opened. “Hey, who's . . .” Jed stopped and looked at Serena in surprise.

It was the first time they had been alone together since they found Uncle Dan.

“You're certainly up early,” Jed said finally. “What are you doing with your saddle?”

“I'm on my way to Santa Fe. I'm taking my saddle with me.” She said it bullishly, but, of course, Jed wouldn't try and stop her.

“Oh. Oh, yeah.”

So he knew she was leaving the ranch. That meant Julie had told him. For the first time, she felt almost glad she was going.

“I didn't know you were leaving today.”

“Yes.”

He started to walk across the room toward her.

Serena swallowed and tried to keep breathing evenly. It would never do for him to realize how he affected her. He was Julie's friend now.

He reached out. “I'll carry the saddle for you.” His hand brushed hers.

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly as she turned and hurried toward the door. He followed and they walked silently to the garage. He waited while she unlocked the trunk, and he swung the saddle in.

“Where are your bags?”

“Up at the house.”

“I'll carry them down for you.”

“That's all right.” She knew her tone was stiff, her face hard. “I can manage.”

“It's no trouble.”

They talked politely, like strangers, but she wondered wildly if he felt at all the way she did. But no, she thought, confusedly, he can't or he wouldn't be Julie's conquest. So only she felt that breathlessness. She must get away from him before she made a fool of herself.

“It will be a little while before I leave,” she said brusquely. “I want to say goodbye to Hurricane.”

He looked at her and she saw compassion in his eyes.

Tears blinded her.

Suddenly, she was in his arms, her head hard against his shoulder.

“Oh hell, Serena, I'm sorry.”

Dear God, she thought, what's happened to me, to my pride?

She pulled away, turned her back to him. “It's all right,” she said brightly, “really it is. I'm fine. It's time I got out on my own. I've been thinking about it for a long time. It will be fun to look for a job in Santa Fe.” She swiped at her eyes, kept that forced smile. “I'm fine. Now I'll go see Hurricane,” and she started out of the garage.

“I'll come up and get your stuff in about half an hour,” he called after her.

When she was in the cool, dark stables, her face pressed against Hurricane's mane, she felt like a fool, an absolute weak-kneed fool. How could she have flung herself at him? How embarrassing. Then her embarrassment faded, lost in her sorrow at leaving Hurricane. She patted him softly and rubbed behind his ears.

“I'll send for you,” she told him. “I promise. I'll send for you.”

Then it was time to go. She managed not to cry as she left the stables. She slowly walked back to the garage. The sun was up now, a shining orange on the horizon. She backed out her car and drove up the road toward the hacienda. The early morning sunlight turned the adobe butterscotch yellow. She parked in the turnaround. The hacienda lay in silence. She had deliberately risen early so she could leave before the ranch began to stir and waken. Even so, it was hard, so hard, to go. It would be impossible if everyone were there to say goodbye. She had told Joe and Millie last night. Their shock had been hard to bear. She didn't tell them Julie was forcing her to leave. Joe had spent most of his adult life at Castle Rock. The ranch was his life. She would do nothing to jeopardize that. If he knew Julie was forcing her to go, well, he might leave, too. It would be foolish, but somehow she knew Joe didn't order his life by doing only the smart thing.

Joe must stay because of Danny.

Serena closed her car door quietly and hurried back into the dawn-quiet house. In her room, what had been her room, she took one final look. A final look at the stately row of Kachina dolls, at the Navajo rugs, at Will's paintings on her walls.

This was goodbye. Goodbye to the happiest place of her life, to the only home she remembered. Goodbye to the kind of life she loved. Goodbye, even more finally and forever, to Uncle Dan. Here at Castle Rock she could sense his presence, feel that he was near. Now she must leave and be alone.

Will burst into her room. A heavy flush suffused his face. “What the hell is this?”

Serena turned to face him. “I'm leaving Castle Rock, Will.”

He looked down at the three suitcases. “Serena, you can't.” The anguish in his voice pulled at her emotions, which were raw and strained.

Serena bit her lip. She would not cry. She would not. At least not until Castle Rock lay behind.

“Serena, why?”

“I don't . . .” She paused and swallowed. “I don't belong. I have no claim here just as Julie said.”

Will reached out, grabbed her hand. “Did Julie say something to make you leave?”

“She made it clear that she and Peter would be running the ranch and that there wasn't any place for me.”

“God damn,” Will said heavily, furiously. “Why didn't you come to me?”

She squeezed his hand but made no answer. The stricken look in his eyes told her that he knew why she hadn't come to him. He had lain in his room the last two days since the funeral, the door closed.

“I didn't know.” His face was stricken.

Serena smiled determinedly. “It's all right, Will. I can't stay. Not the way Julie feels. There isn't anything you could have done.”

His face hardened. “I could have done something. I could have.” He looked at her beseechingly. “Serry, do you hate me?”

“No, Will. Never. You know that.”

He stepped closer, reached out to touch her shoulders with his huge hands. “Serry, maybe we could both leave. We could start over somewhere. You and me.”

She shook her head, but her voice was gentle. “Too much has happened, Will. To both of us. This isn't the time to start something new.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Uncle Dan . . . He was so damn good to us.”

“I know, Will.”

Somehow, it happened as naturally as water flows downstream, they moved into each other's arms and his head bent over hers. They held tightly to each other, each knowing the other's sorrow and seeking to console.

Then Serena looked past Will and saw Jed standing in her doorway. For an instant, shock flickered on his face.

Serena pulled away from Will. Will looked around and scowled.

“I'll get your bags.” Jed's tone was polite, his face impassive.

“Thank you,” she replied, her tone as cool as his. She looked up at Will. “I must go now.”

Will said roughly, “I'll talk to—”

“No,” she said angrily.

Will sighed heavily. “All right, Serena. But I have to know where you will be.”

Jed was picking up the two heaviest cases and walking toward the door.

Serena lifted up the smaller case. “I don't know where I'll be, Will. I don't have any idea.”

Will took the case from her. “Call me as soon as you find a place. Serena, I have to know where you are.”

“I'll call.”

The three of them walked down the stairs and outside. When the luggage was packed, Serena slipped behind the wheel.

Will bent down, kissed her on the cheek, then, without another word, turned and walked away.

For a moment, Serena felt torn. She hated to see Will so unhappy. But she couldn't stay.

Then she and Jed looked at each other.

“Drive carefully.”

“I will.”

She turned on the motor. Just as she slipped the engine into gear, Jed bent down and said harshly, “It's good you're getting out, Serena. Don't come back.” Then he, too, swung on his heel and walked away.

Serena looked after him for a long moment, then the Mustang spurted ahead.

Don't come back . . . don't come back . . . don't come back . . .

It rolled in her head like a refrain as the miles slipped away, the Mustang curving down mountains, down, ever down, toward Santa Fe. It was midmorning when she drove into town, passing the usual undistinguished buildings that sprout like weeds on the outskirts of towns all across America. She left the ticky-tacky buildings behind and was into Sante Fe proper, with its narrow streets and low adobe houses, and finally into the heart of the old city, where Spanish musket fire and Indian arrows had struggled for supremacy.

It seemed familiar, yet strange. She had been here many times to visit friends, to walk the narrow streets and look at paintings, but she had never come to stay. She didn't know where to go.

She checked into a modest motel, bought a copy of the
New Mexican
, and looked at the want ads. Three jobs looked promising. Before the afternoon was over, she had visited all three and her spirits were flagging. She didn't have enough experience or the job had already been taken or thanks for coming, we'll call you. She stopped at the park across from the Governor's Palace and rested on a bench. Across the street, beneath the portico, Indians sat cross-legged with their wares spread out before them on blankets. Tourists crisscrossed the park, stopping to photograph the Palace. It was everyday and ordinary yet Serena felt a tickle of panic at the back of her mind.

She had four hundred dollars in her bank account. That wasn't enough to rent a decent apartment in Santa Fe. It wasn't enough to buy food for a month. She had to have a job.

Grimly, she got up and started down a side street and a familiar name caught her eye. She stood outside the law offices of Williams and Honeycutt. She hesitated, then opened the door and went in.

The receptionist smiled. “May I help you?”

“I don't have an appointment,” Serena said hesitantly, “but I wondered if I could see Mr. Williams.”

The woman looked at her inquiringly.

“I'm Serena Mallory. I used to live at Castle Rock, the McIntire ranch. But Uncle Dan, Mr. McIntire, was killed . . . ”

The receptionist nodded, her face sympathetic. “Yes, of course. I'm so sorry. Mr. McIntire was a client of Mr. Williams for years.” She flipped on the intercom. “Mr. Williams, there is a young lady here from Castle Rock, Serena Mallory. She would like to see you . . .”