| |
The next sound Amanda heard was a light tapping on the bedroom door. Startled awake, she left the bed and grabbed the robe she had left lying across a chair. She blinked herself alert as she shrugged into it and walked to the door.
Johnnie Sue greeted her. “Sorry to wake you up, hon, but it’s six-thirty. If you’re gonna go to work, you’d better get ready. You’ll be late.”
Amanda threw a glance over her shoulder at the alarm clock. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe I slept so late. You’re right. I have to hurry. Thanks for waking me, Johnnie Sue.”
“You better dress warm,” she replied. “It’s cold as a witch’s tit out there. Radio station up in Fort Worth says it’s cold enough to snow.”
That information meant nothing. Fort Worth was ninety miles to the north.
After rushing through a shower and shampoo, Amanda stood in front of the vanity mirror drying her hair. Since she had started wearing it short, styling it was so much easier and faster. Pic preferred it long, but other people had told her the gamin style flattered her and she looked cute. She would settle for “cute.”
Before leaving the bathroom, she opened her vanity drawer and pulled out the small calendar where forever she had kept a record of her menstrual cycle. At the moment, she should be ovulating, but her husband was so mad at her they weren’t even taking advantage of the opportunity for her to get pregnant.
Tears welled again, but she grabbed a washcloth and dabbed them away. She couldn’t let what was going on with Pic and his dad affect her attitude. For the next week, the house would be alive with people coming and going and as the only female resident, she would be the hostess.
Besides, this wasn’t the first time Pic had gone somewhere to find Bill Junior, although an overnight stay wasn’t usually called for. She tried to divert her attention to all she had to do today to get ready for the holiday. Among a dozen mundane tasks, she wanted to squeeze in a swim. She wouldn’t be near an indoor pool again for a week or more. The exercise would get her endorphins pumping and improve her mood.
She carried her long coat, which she rarely wore, gloves and a heavy scarf with her to the kitchen. Johnnie Sue was nowhere in sight, but oatmeal was in the warmer. Evidently, only the housekeeper had eaten breakfast.
In no mood for food of any kind, Amanda shunned the oatmeal, doctored a cup of coffee in a large insulated mug, then donned her coat and tied the scarf around her head and neck. She picked up her book bag from the counter in the utility room and walked outside to a damp and cold gloomy day and a whistling wind.
At the end of the sidewalk, one of Redstone’s SUVs awaited her, a white plume spewing from the muffler. Chris, wearing a dark overcoat and gloves, stood waiting to open the back door.
She quickstepped down the wet sidewalk, squinting against a cold mist that felt like tiny shards of glass prickling her face. Chris opened the door and guided her into the SUV’s backseat. Once she was seated, he moved to the driver’s door, scooted behind the wheel and they were off.
She settled in for the long ride, but her stomach continued to tremble. Probably because she’d had little sleep for two nights. She untied her scarf and dropped it around her neck. As she peeled off her gloves, she saw her fingers shaking.
Chris smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “Cold outside. Running a little late this morning.”
She stared at the back of his blond head. “I know. I was awake most of the night. After I finally did drop off, I overslept this morning.”
“Everything all right?”
Wow. That was a more personal remark than usual. “What? Yes, yes, of course. ... It’s just so chaotic right now. Pic’s out of town, you know.”
“I heard. I sensed yesterday that you’re preoccupied.”
“You did?”
He smiled into the mirror again. “Yes, ma’am. We’ve been together almost every day for two years. I can tell when your world is out of sync.”
Hunh. What else did he perceive about her? That they did spend quite a bit of time together was true. The thirty-eight-miles from the ranch to town was a forty-five-minute drive twice a day in the close quarters of an automobile. Since Halloween, he had driven her everywhere or accompanied her on team trips, all of which amounted to sharing meals and sometimes alone time to talk.
“That was insightful of you. I didn’t know you were watching me so closely.” She sipped her coffee.
“Just doing my job. Watching you is what I’m supposed to do.”
This conversation had taken an odd turn. She needed to steer it back to something less personal. “So, what’s the latest? Any progress on finding who cut my tires?”
“I’m not in law enforcement. I’m not privy to their investigation.”
That scary night in Fort Worth zipped through her mind again. She still felt guilty over how, after arguing with Pic, in a temper fit she had stamped out of the ranch house and roared away without even saying good-bye. If her attacker had seen her with Chris, no doubt he wouldn’t have touched her car. One look at him probably would make anyone think twice about doing harm to someone he protected. She gave a big sigh.
“What was that?” he asked, smiling at her in the rearview mirror again.
“Oh, nothing. Just wondering when life will get back to normal.” And at the Double-Barrel, what was normal in the first place? “I’m starting to wonder if it’ll ever be over.”
“Sure, it will. Things like this always come to an end. In a way, I hate to see it. As soon as it does, I’ll be moving on. This has been good duty for me. But I know it’s hard for you, being under the stress that you and your family are.”
Stress. The catch-all word for something that affected so many parts of life. What the hell did it mean, really? Had stress prevented her getting pregnant? Now that Pic had revealed his true feelings about her and their marriage, a different kind of stress overrode her desire for motherhood. Did she even want it any longer?
Chris’s words hung in her mind: ... We’ve been together almost every day for two years. I can tell when your world is out of sync....
Her memory traveled back to when he had first started appearing at her elbow. She and Pic weren’t even formally engaged. Still, due to her being considered Pic’s girlfriend and the Lockhart family’s concern for her safety, she had been included in their security bubble. He was bound to know a great deal about her personally just from being around her so much.
For at least a year of those two years, Chris had occasionally told her how much he admired her ability as a coach. He knew about the Odessa coach’s visit before she and Pic got married. She had told him about the job offer, but as far as she could tell, he had never told a single member of the Lockhart family that marrying Pic had not been her only option.
Some of what he knew was more private than that, like when she had cramps and felt terrible. Or one day when her period started earlier than expected and ruined her clothes, he went into Drinkwell’s small drugstore and bought tampons and waited outside the door of the ladies’ room of the town’s only gas station while she cleaned herself up. More than half the time when he saw her in her coaching role, she was wearing a Speedo swim suit commonly worn by racers. He had seen almost as much of her bare body as Pic had.
What did she know about him? Not much, really. He displayed little emotion, no “tells” exposing who he was as a man. He spoke not at all about his personal life, except to say he was unmarried, had never had a wife and he had no kids. When asked about kids, he hadn’t even made that stupid after-comment, “not that I know of,” like a lot of single men made. If a girlfriend existed in his life, he hadn’t mentioned her.
On top of his physical assets, he was an interesting man. He joined the army after nine-eleven, he told her once, and been assigned all over the world, including some places she had never heard of.
Add to that, he was a nice man—smart, quiet-spoken, polite and courteous. Gentle, even. She couldn’t imagine him in a violent combat situation, but Pic had told her he was a Delta Force warfighter for twelve years and had received medals. He had to be capable of a ruthlessness she had only read about. Had he killed people? Wasn’t that a part of the job of warfighters? Lord. Almost all of the men who now surrounded the family as “security” were trained killers. A shudder passed across her shoulders.
“You okay back there?”
She looked up and he was smiling into the mirror again. “Uh ...Yes. I’m—I’m fine.” She scrambled for conversation. “You, uh—you’ve never told me why you aren’t married, Chris.”
“What’s that, ma’am?”
“Oh, I know I’m not supposed to ask personal questions. But you’re right in that we’ve spent a lot of time together. I was just thinking I should know more about you. You know almost as much about my private life as I know myself. In some ways, you know more about me than Pic does.”
“I’m sure that’s not true, ma’am. He’s a busy man.”
“I know, but ...” She stopped. What she had started to say sounded whiny and immature. She changed her approach. “My husband has gone to only one swim meet where my team competed. You, on the other hand, have been to every one since well before he and I got married. He’s never sat and watched me through a coaching session with my girls and you’ve sat through how many now? I know you’re just doing what you’ve been hired to do and watching teenage girls swim is bound to be boring to someone like you, but still ...”
“Not boring. I like seeing how you motivate those young girls to give it their best. It’s obvious they respect you. Mr. Lockhart’s missing something by not watching you. You’re a good leader and a good coach.”
“Believe it or not, I’m a good English teacher, too, but no one cares. The swim team’s two state championships are what’s important to the school. And to the town, for that matter. And I get that. Drinkwell has always been kind of a nothing place, so it needs something to brag about.”
She gave a bitter chuckle. “Pic’s never sat in one of my English classes where I’m trying to teach juniors and seniors how to read, either.”
“Seems like they should have learned that before they got to be juniors and seniors. But I know how it is in farming families. Sometimes the kids helping with the work at home is more important than education.”
“I’m sure that happens somewhere, but that really isn’t the issue in Drinkwell High School. To a lot of our kids, English is a second language. Though they’re classified as junior and seniors, a lot of them haven’t gone past eighth grade. But that’s a different conversation. How would you know about kids staying home from school to help with the farm? Does your family farm?”
“Yes, ma’am. Corn and soybeans. Been doing it for three generations.”
“Oh, really. They must miss having a strapping guy like you around to help.”
“Nah. My two younger brothers are still at home helping with the farm. After I finished college, I joined the army and never went back.”
“Where did you go to college?”
“Indiana U. Football scholarship.” He caught her eye in the rearview mirror and grinned. “Go Hoosiers.”
Of course. I should’ve known. “Ahh, you look like a football player. Well, I’m a Red Raider myself.”
“I know that. I don’t think we ever went up against the Red Raiders.”
Oh, wow. Had she ever told him she was a Texas Tech alumna? She couldn’t remember. She dredged up a laugh. “Good thing. We would’ve beat you.”
He laughed, too. “Don’t be too sure. We beat Notre Dame three times while I was playing.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Why didn’t some pretty farm girl capture a good guy like you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the right one never tried.”
That was one of those casual fibs that was supposed to make someone just shut his or her mouth and stop asking questions. Nevertheless, Amanda detected a kernel of something in that remark. Had there been a “right one” for him and had he lost her?
“I haven’t said anything about this before, but in case you haven’t figured it out, I’ll just tell you that the girls in my swim class all have a crush on you. They’re a little young for you though. How old are you anyway?”
“Thirty-five, ma’am.” He gave her another smile in the rearview mirror. “Old enough to keep plenty of distance between me and teenage girls. I like women, not girls.”
Exactly the same age as Pic. In some ways, he even looked like Pic—both blond and blue-eyed, both big and strong. “I’m surprised one of them hasn’t jumped you. Teenage girls these days aren’t necessarily paragons of virtue. Some of them behave way older than their years.”
“Well, I’m armed. I can defend myself.”
She smiled. She liked his sense of humor.
They reached the city limits and would soon be at the school. He caught her eye in the mirror again. “You didn’t swim the last couple of days. You and your class slacking off a little?”
“Just temporary. A break until we get through the holidays. When we go back after Christmas, distractions will be fewer. We’ll hit it hard. The state meet is the middle of February, so we have a lot of work to do to get ready. Those two state championships to defend, you know. The school’s counting on me.”
“A backwater place like Drinkwell is lucky to have someone as good as you are. I hope they appreciate that.”
Hah. A compliment Amanda never heard from her husband. She and Pic never had a positive discussion of her career as a coach and educator, which he viewed as being on a par with clerking in the grocery store. Never mind that she had won awards and a few times had been featured in major newspaper articles by sports writers. If a conversation related to her team or the school came up, he ended it with: “You know how I feel about it.”
“Thank you, Chris. You’re always pumping up my ego. I know Drinkwell is a long way behind the schools in bigger towns, but it’s my hometown. If not for that, I probably wouldn’t be here.”
“You wouldn’t be Mr. Lockhart’s wife?”
The days when she thought all she wanted was to be Pic’s wife and companion for the rest of her life slammed into her thoughts and a stark reality punched her. If not for her father’s illness, she wouldn’t have returned to Drinkwell, even temporarily. Indeed, she probably wouldn’t be Pic’s wife.
“I don’t know,” she told Chris. “Actually, when my dad got sick, I came back to help him. I’m his only kid.”
Stuck here anyway and unemployed, she had accepted a temporary job as the swim coach and Junior English teacher. Eventually, her father’s death left her with a nice home that she owned outright but couldn’t sell in Drinkwell’s non-existent real estate market. Otherwise, she probably wouldn’t have revived her relationship with her old high school boyfriend. “Pic and I had more or less gone steady as teenagers and he was still around when I came back,” she continued. “We kind of picked up where we left off.”
Looking back, Pic had never had an interest in the part of her life that was a large percentage of who she was. Other than high school football, he had never competed for anything in his life. He viewed swimming as a phony interscholastic sport, refused to learn to swim himself, was afraid of water above his knees—for good reason, she supposed, after the experience he and Drake had as boys. Yet he had built her that incredible swimming pool and he boasted to people outside the family about her teams’ championships.
“He told Marcus you weren’t going to coach this year,” Chris said. “He said you were going to be his partner running the ranch. You must’ve changed your mind, huh?”
The day Pic proposed to her, she had indeed made him a promise to give up her teaching and coaching job and be his partner. Reminded again that she had broken that promise, she grimaced. “Can I tell you a secret just between us?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She fiddled with the fingers of one of her gloves. “I’m serious when I say just between us.”
“Yes, ma’am, I understand.”
“I have no interest in ranching. I know the Lockhart family is in a leadership position in ranching and agriculture in Treadway County and for that matter, the whole state of Texas. Ranching has always been most of the economy here, but...” She hesitated, remembering that Pic used to call her “city girl” or “sissy.”
“I don’t hate it. Let’s just say I have no interest in it. And horses? I don’t understand this ... this passion for these four-legged divas. It’s more than a passion with this family. It’s almost an obsession. I swear, it’s in the Lockhart DNA.”
Chris grinned at her in the mirror. “Could be. An Irishman’s love for horses is legendary.”
“Hah. I suppose that’s true. All I know about horses is they come in different colors. I’ve gone to the horse shows with Pic and heard all of the talk. I’ve tried to generate some enthusiasm, but I just don’t get it. I can’t ride and don’t even want to learn how.”
His gaze caught hers in the mirror again. “I understand they’re worth a lot of money, some of them more than Thoroughbreds.”
“I think that’s true. Of course, most of the horses the ranch owns are plain old working horses, but the performance horses are a whole different story. You know Troy’s mare that just won that big contest up in Fort Worth?”
“Yes, ma’am. Sal DiAmato told me the prize was close to half a million dollars.”
“If Troy wanted to sell her, Pic says he might get that much for her, but eventually, she’ll earn more than that having babies. And she can still compete. She’s really just a baby herself. As long as she doesn’t get crippled or get sick, she’ll probably win some more shows.”
“That’s good, huh?”
“According to my husband, it’s almost a miracle. He says the odds against getting a horse with the ability in the first place, then having it grow to the right age to compete without some kind of disabling injury are huge.”
“How would they get injured?”
“Oh, just like any other animal. Or human. They can catch something that disables them, they can get injured training. That’s why Dandy Lady and others like her are so pampered. It’s strange, I’ll tell you, living surrounded by animals that are more important than people.”
Suddenly, all of Amanda’s swirling thoughts and emotions crashed into each other and she thought about her life, the life she had longed for before she had it. Why couldn’t she quit the school and be content with her role as the wife of one of the richest men in Texas? Most women would jump on that opportunity. Everyone she knew envied her, but she seemed to have tunnel vision. All she could think was she had become Rapunzel, a princess trapped in a castle.
Worse yet, she had become more like Betty Lockhart than she wanted to think about and had even started to be empathetic toward that vile woman.
“Given all of the years I’ve known my husband and his family, I wish someone could tell me why I didn’t figure all of this out before now. And especially before Pic and I got married. Sometimes I wonder if I’m cut out to be a rich man’s wife. I have to admit, I feel guilty.”
“For what, ma’am?”
“Oh, a lot of things. My colleagues at school, for instance. Drinkwell pay for teachers is sub-par. Money problems are the number one topic in the teachers’ lounge. I relate, but I’m so far removed from that now, I don’t even attempt to take part in the talk. What could I contribute? I don’t want to be called a hypocrite.”
“I know the Lockharts are rich people all right,” Chris said. “If they weren’t, they couldn’t afford to hire my company.”
“I don’t know much about their money. Pic and I don’t discuss it. Since we got married, I’ve sat in on only one of the family meetings. A lot of what they talk about goes over my head. I just know that Pic and his dad deal with the ranch’s operation and his older brother is the real manager of the family money. Drake and some nebulous accounting firm up in Fort Worth oversee the family members’ discretionary spending. I’m not sure why they bother. All of us spend without thought to what things cost. The accountants never even raise a question.”
She thought back to the past summer and a trip she had made with Pic to Fort Worth. They stopped in at the ultimate retail store for western style clothing where Pic bought expensive hats and boots. She admired a plain pair of silver earrings, but lost interest the minute she saw the $499 price tag. She could buy the same thing at some discount jewelry store, she was sure. Pic bought the earrings for her. Just like that. He had taken $500 out of his wallet and handed it to the clerk as if it were a dollar.
“The only money the accountants don’t have their eyes on is my meager salary,” she said. “They never see it. It’s all mine to spend entirely on myself if I want to. But you know what? I’m never going to shop in stores where a pair of silver earrings costs five-hundred dollars or a blouse costs a thousand. I’m fine with my inexpensive shoes. I was fine driving my little Toyota, but now I’ve got a Cadillac I don’t want.”
“Mr. Lockhart told me they totaled your RAV.”
“It doesn’t matter. Now, I don’t need a car of any kind. Since that Fort Worth parking lot mess, I’m not allowed to drive anything. You want to know what I do with my pay?”
“What’s that, ma’am?”
“I give most of it to local charities. Drinkwell is a poor place. Probably half the population and my students’ families fall below the poverty level. The Angel Tree in the grocery store in town? This year, I took every name. I spent all of my December paycheck at Amazon and had stuff delivered to their homes. Those kids probably think Amazon is Santa Clause.”
“Because you felt guilty about having money?”
“Well, that and I didn’t need the money for anything for myself. The ranch furnishes everything I need. I’m really not criticizing the Lockharts. They’re charitable people. They give a huge financial gift to the Drinkwell school every year and a huge amount of food to the food bank. They give whole steers, all butchered, cut and wrapped. Probably better-quality meat than you can buy in a grocery store. And they give money everywhere for this and for that. I just wanted to do something personally.”
She stopped herself. Dear God. She was babbling. Why was she telling all of this private information to the bodyguard? Pic would have a fit if he knew.
Her dark mood deepened. She must be doing it because she no longer had confidantes or even girlfriends. Her best friend Gail had married Mike Norton and moved to Stephenville where Mike had enrolled at Tarleton, working toward an engineering degree. Gail still taught an elementary grade, but in Stephenville now, where she made more money than she ever would have made in Drinkwell. She and Mike also had a new daughter born a few months ago.
Tears rushed to Amanda’s eyes and she couldn’t stop them. A sob blurted from her throat.
Chris slowed and looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Ma’am, are you all right?”
She grabbed her purse and dug out a Kleenex. “Yes, yes. ... I’m—I’m just having a bad morning. Feeling sorry for myself. Could we stop in that little park up the road for a minute?”
In a matter of minutes, they reached a small grassy area smaller than a city block. The state maintained it and called it a park. Chris pulled off the pavement and came to a stop near a concrete picnic table. He turned in his seat, braced an elbow on the console between the two front seats and faced her. With the engine off, the windows began to fog over, enclosing them in an artificial privacy. “This is none of my business, ma’am, and I don’t usually say anything, but—”
“Please. Say what you’re thinking. I’m interested to know how we look from where you sit.”
“The way I see it, the Double-Barrel Ranch is an isolated place and I’m not talking just geographically. It’s kind of like being in a velvet cage. There probably aren’t many people nearby that the Lockharts have anything in common with and they’re subjected to a lot of criticism and gossip. They kind of pull together and live with siege mentality. On top of that, they’re so wealthy most of the rules that apply to the rest of us don’t apply to them.
Amanda hated admitting it, but since she had married Pic, people around her—even people she had known for years—treated her differently. “There are neighbors. Other ranchers.”
“I’m required to I know what surrounds the ranch. From what I can tell, no other ranching operation comes close to the Double-Barrel’s size or wealth. For you, I suspect it’s like getting caught in a vacuum. You used to be a normal person with a normal life. If you weren’t born to their kind of wealth, if you came to it late, you can lose sight of who you are now compared to who you thought you were. If you don’t intend to walk out of it, you have to not fight it. Just go with the flow and guard against letting it get you down.”
Walk out of it? Shock ricocheted through her. She had never considered leaving Pic. She loved him, had loved him since she was five years old. Even while she was married to Sam Larson, she had loved Pic. She was trying to love his family. She simply hadn’t realized before they began to share life daily just how deeply he was a part of and a reflection of his family and its unique mythos. “Wise words, Chris. Sometimes that’s easier said than done. I have to admit I sometimes do fantasize about just running away. Do you ever think about that? Just running away?”
“Me? There was a time when...well, these days, my life’s pretty simple.”
She studied him a few seconds. What had he not said? Well, why wonder? She would never know. She blew her nose and stuffed her Kleenex back into her purse. “You know what? Let’s go somewhere. I’m not in the right frame of mind for being cooped up in a building with a bunch of restless teenagers. I have a light day anyway. I’m going to call and take the day off.”
She pulled her cell phone out of her coat pocket, called the high school principal and informed him she had to be off for the day for personal reasons. After she disconnected, she laughed. “He probably thinks I want to go Christmas shopping.”
Chris started the engine. “Where do you want to go, ma’am?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Just drive in some direction. ... Wait, I know. Let’s go up to Fort Worth and hang out. We can eat lunch at Del Frisco’s. It’s a five-star restaurant. I’ll buy you a steak dinner for Christmas. ... And do me a favor. Please don’t call me ma’am. Call me Amanda like you used to before Pic and I got married. Today, I’m in the mood to be just ... just Amanda who definitely wasn’t born rich.”
