The Year of Chasing Dreams Page 6

  Ciana’s recent display of self-sufficiency was greatly impaired by both the slow pace of her repair work and Jon’s thunderous expression daring her to object. “I’ll help you,” she said, granting him permission without saying so.

  “Suit yourself, but I’d prefer to work alone.”

  Ciana’s temper went hot, but she held her tongue.

  “I’ll have a meal on the table for you every day,” Alice Faye said cheerily, her tone meant to ease the tension in the air between Ciana and Jon.

  “That will be nice,” Jon told her, and pulling on his heavy work gloves, he stomped out of the kitchen.

  Recent snowfall had kept the boarding horses’ owners from coming to care for them until the country roads were plowed; Ciana used that as an excuse to keep to the barn for the next few days and work with the horses while Jon finished the fencing. Each evening the three of them ate together with little conversation before Jon returned to Bill Pickins’s bunkhouse. The fence was intact less than a week after the ATV incident.

  Days later, Ciana saw Fred Brewster, the techie from Murfreesboro, talking to Jon out by the barn. The next day she was in the front parlor, scraping off what was left of old wallpaper around the front windows, when she saw Fred pull up with a horse trailer behind his truck and proceed to load his horse. She dropped the scraper, grabbed a jacket, and ran out the front door calling, “Fred! What are you doing?”

  The man looked nervous as she skidded to a stop in front of him. “Oh, hi, Ciana. Didn’t expect to see you.”

  “Where you going? Why are you taking your horse away?”

  “Moving him to a place in Murfreesboro.” His horse balked at the foot of the trailer.

  She didn’t like the news. Losing Fred meant losing a paying boarder. “I had no idea you were considering this. Are you unhappy here?”

  “No, no. Your place has been great. You’re great.” Fred’s gaze darted side to side. “I’m thinking of selling him. I mean, owning a horse is a lot of work and expense, more than I can give right now. Plus the man said the horse needs more attention than—”

  “What man?”

  “That Jon fellow. Your helper.”

  Shock, then anger twisted inside Ciana. “Well, he was wrong. It’s winter. I give your horse plenty of attention.”

  “I know, Ciana, and you’ve been really good, but Jon … well, seemed like he really wanted me to go, and after thinking it over, I decided he’s right. I never was a real horse person.”

  She was so angry she was afraid to open her mouth, certain that flames would shoot out. She took the horse’s lead line and urged him into the trailer, where she tied him off, settled him, then exited and shut the gate behind her. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she said, “Well, you’ve paid for the month and it’s only half gone, so I’ll refund the difference.”

  “No need,” Fred said, climbing into his truck. “Really. Just keep the money.”

  She stepped aside and watched Fred pull away with his horse, along with his steady payments.

  Ciana seethed all day waiting for Jon to show up. When he finally did, in the late afternoon, she flew out of the house coatless in a fine driving sleet, and into the barn after him. “Why did you tell Fred Brewster to take his horse and leave?”

  Jon removed his hat, shook off the wetness, then shook his coat and hung it on a post nail. “It was a suggestion,” he said in his slow drawl, infuriating her even more. He took a moment to glance toward the stalls. “I guess he took it.”

  “I asked why?”

  “I needed a stall for Caramel.”

  His answer momentarily stymied her. “Bill kick you out?”

  Jon grinned. “No. But I’m moving in here and I needed a place for my horse.” His tone was neutral, as if it was perfectly obvious and rational.

  “Who says? We already settled this.”

  “No, we didn’t. You stated your opinion. Mine’s different.”

  “Who do you think you are, Jon Mercer? You can’t just throw out a paying boarder and move in!” She was spitting mad.

  “I’ll pay for the stall, so you won’t be losing money.”

  She took a swing at him, but he caught her wrists. “Now you listen to me, Ciana Beauchamp, I won’t stand by while the people I love are threatened. It was your property this time, but next time, it could be you or your mother these freaks go after. I saw what they did to your fields. These are not nice people you’re playing with.”

  “Let go of me.” She twisted in his grip, but he held firm.

  “Then settle down. I wrestled you to the ground once before, Ciana, and I’ll do it again. Don’t test me.”

  The look in his eyes stopped her. She remembered the day she’d physically attacked him, blind with grief about Arie’s impending death and all her long-held pain and fury over what had happened in Italy. “Low blow,” she whispered, allowing heat and fury to evaporate.

  “All’s fair in love and war.” His grip loosened, and his voice softened. “Let me help you protect this place. I have a rifle and a pistol, and I will shoot anything that comes along to do you harm. Between the three of us, we can keep steady watch.”

  “Mom wants us out of here.”

  “Your mother will do anything to keep you safe. And so will I,” he added.

  Ciana shook herself out of his grip. “I just don’t like to be told what to do, Jon. It’s not my way.”

  “Okay. Fair enough. I’m not telling you right now. I’m asking you. Let me stay.”

  His face blurred through a sudden smear of tears. Of course, he was right. She needed his help, and having him close by was another layer of protection for her land. The logistics of his staying were another matter. Grudgingly, she said, “Well, you can’t sleep in the barn like before. You’ll freeze to death.”

  He gave her a half smile. “Full disclosure: Alice Faye already offered me a room in the house. Up on the third floor. Said it once belonged to your great-grandfather Jacob and his wife.”

  Ciana felt another flash of anger that quickly congealed into cold sarcasm. “Already discussed and decided, I guess. Nice of you two to consult me.”

  Jon dipped his head to snag her gaze, his expression turning boyish. “Discussed, but you decide. Tell me right now and if your answer is no, I’ll move back to Bill’s. But I’d like to keep my horse here. It’ll give me an excuse to come over every day.”

  Her choice. Of course she needed help. She’d be stupid to allow her pride to interfere and turn him away. “I can’t pay you.” In truth, she was just scraping by. Her credit cards were maxed with fencing supplies and she still faced upcoming charges for spring planting.

  “I have some money. I rode the circuit last summer, remember?”

  A great weariness stole over Ciana. Jon’s constant presence would be an emotional and physical challenge for her mind and body. Yet it was necessary. Any emotional entanglement with him aside, his presence at Bellmeade was a practical one. Going it alone was an ideal, a luxury she couldn’t afford. And the recent intimidation was unnerving. She had proven she was spunky. So what? She wasn’t Olivia, with a backbone of steel. At the moment she felt like a little girl, in over her head, trying to hold on to and manage her land with little to no support.

  “One more thing,” Jon said. “I’m coming to help you and Alice Faye. I don’t expect anything more than what’s already been promised—a bed, food, and a warm place for my horse. You don’t have to worry about me going after anything else.”

  She understood what he was telling her. His offer was hands off. She’d have his presence, his muscle, his firepower. She knew the rules were fair. She sucked in a long breath, too tired to resist anymore. “I don’t want you to leave, Jon. Move on over.” She offered a conciliatory smile, knowing full well that her battles with history, with herself, with her neighbors, and with her long-held desire for Jon Mercer were only beginning.

  “You still speaking to me?” Alice Faye asked when Ciana came into the kitchen from the b
arn before supper. Jon had gone back to Bill’s to get his gear, his horse, and belongings.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Rather not have you treat me like Olivia would whenever I crossed her will.”

  “I’m not Grandmother,” Ciana snapped. “Look, I know having Jon here is better for us. I get it. I just wish—” She stopped, not wanting her anger to regain control. “You should have told me before you asked him to move into the house.”

  “I should have, but I didn’t.” Alice Faye rattled pots and pans, putting them atop the stove, preparing to start supper. “It’ll be all right, Ciana. Having a man like Jon around might make people think twice before any more damage is done.”

  “You still on board for selling Bellmeade?” Ciana slouched at the table, toyed with a spoon forgotten after lunch had been cleared.

  “Not as enthusiastic as I once was. It’s one thing to give in when it’s something that’s offered. Another thing entirely when some outsider comes in to drive you away.”

  “Why, Mama, you sound like a Beauchamp,” Ciana said with a smudge of a smile.

  Alice Faye snorted. “No need to insult me.”

  Ciana’s smile broadened. “Wonder what Eden will say when she comes home to Jon living here?”

  “Used to be, generations all lived together. Don’t know when we got the idea that families had to break apart and live separately. I’ve missed having a full house.”

  There was a tinge of sadness in Alice Faye’s voice, reminding Ciana that ever since her father’s death, Alice Faye had been alone. Certainly she and her grandmother had lived in the house with her mother, but Ciana had been a child and oblivious to her mother’s inner pain. For years Alice Faye and Olivia had revolved around each other. Ciana had been their touch point; she now understood that she had also been the fissure that divided them. She had run to her grandmother, not her mother, for most everything, further isolating Alice Faye. A mistake, Ciana realized. But how could she undo the damage now that so many years and memories stood between them?

  “Did I ever thank you for handling the hay harvest while I was in Italy?” Ciana asked, suddenly remorseful over the divide. “Maybe I shouldn’t have run off and left you.”

  Alice Faye looked up, startled. “Goodness, I’ve done it before, Ciana. It’s what we farmers do … plant fields, gather in crops, muck stalls.” She scraped corn bread batter into a baking pan. “And at the time, I had enough money to hire help. I was glad you and your friends were on vacation. Besides, you’re here now. In time for spring.” She put the empty bowl in the sink under running water. “Turned out for the best. What with Arie getting sick and all.”

  And dying, Ciana thought, filling in the unspoken. “Sure can’t hire anyone this year. Jon will be a big help come April.”

  Alice Faye caught Ciana’s eye. “He’s a good man.”

  “I know.”

  “Man should have a reason to stay around after planting season.”

  Ciana bristled at the implication. She wasn’t about to discuss her and Jon’s complicated relationship with her mother. “Man loves the rodeo circuit,” she said curtly, leaving the conversation and the kitchen.

  “We’re going to have a good time today!” was pretty much how Garret greeted Eden every morning when she came bleary-eyed into the kitchen for coffee, and after her first cup of caffeine, she was ready for any itinerary. He took her all around Sydney, showing off his city like an art dealer with a prized collection. They rode public transportation when possible, partly because it was simple and plentiful, and partly because gasoline was expensive and made driving costly. They rode buses, city trolleys, trains, and they walked—for miles. As a benefit of the exercise, his body began to fill out. The gauntness left his face, and he began to look more like the Garret she’d met in Italy. Maggie beamed continuously, and Trevor, a quiet man, often peeked from behind his newspapers and legal briefs to flash approving smiles at Eden and his son.

  “You’re good for him,” Maggie often said to Eden.

  Eden basked in the approval.

  Lorna and Tom invited Eden and Garret over for a Saturday afternoon at their apartment, so they went into the city early and walked across the famous Sydney Harbour Bridge. There was a sidewalk protecting walkers from traffic, and at the midway mark an opportunity to don an elaborate harness and scale the metal heights to the bridge’s top. Eden rejected Garret’s suggestion that they try it. Instead she ogled the famed Opera House in the harbor below, its white roof gleaming in the sun.

  On the far side, they paused at the Circular Quay, where ferries shuttled people across the sparkling blue water. The area teemed with pedestrians. “We’ll catch the Manly ferry one day soon,” Garret said. “Now it’s on to the buses and out to Tom’s place.”

  The ride took them to an area of apartment buildings, none of them as tall as many Eden had seen in Nashville. Tom and Lorna’s rental was on an upper floor that looked out over treetops and houses.

  “I like your place,” Eden told Lorna. “It’s cozy.” They were in the kitchen preparing a salad and sipping wine while the guys were on the balcony minding the grill. Tom had dragged a TV plugged into a long extension cord outside so they could watch a cricket match while they cooked and drank beer.

  “Cozy is a polite word. We’re crammed in here. Been looking for a place of our own to buy for months. Everything’s so expensive, and right now we’d have trouble covering a mortgage even with our two salaries together. But we persevere.”

  Eden thought of the house she and her mother had once lived in. She had no warm, cozy memories of it, or of living with bipolar Gwen. They hadn’t communicated in months. “I’m sure you’ll find a place.”

  “Tom’s up for a salary increase. Hope he gets it.”

  Eden sliced a radish paper thin on a cutting board of eucalyptus wood. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Ask away.”

  “What can you tell me about Alyssa? She keeps popping up like a garden weed.”

  Lorna laughed. “You’ve pegged her perfect. I don’t care for her … never have, and I’m not just saying that. She thinks she’s so much better than us common folk. She and Garret got together in school. Hate to say it, but he fell hard for her.”

  Eden didn’t like hearing that. “Well, she is pretty. And a model.”

  Lorna stabbed the air with her paring knife. “And she never lets you forget it either. Some talent agent ‘discovered’ her when she was thirteen, signed her to a contract. They used to tart her up for a photo shoot so she’d look older. Now that she’s in her twenties, they tone her down to look like a twelve-year-old. And airbrush her face too! Never believe there’s truth in a magazine picture of a model.”

  “Garret says she’s successful.”

  “Depends on how you qualify success. She makes money and her face gets plastered over ads, but I think she’s about as interesting as chewing gum. After a few chews you just want to spit it out.”

  Eden smiled but said, “Regardless, Garret likes her.”

  “For a while. There was a time she led Garret by his nose. Until you came along,” she added with a broad smile. “Could see that he went bonkers over you plain as day back in Italy.”

  Lorna’s endorsement made Eden feel better. “We had a good time. I didn’t know what to make of Garret back then. He comes on strong, you know.” Eden picked up her wineglass, took a sip.

  “He can’t help it; his nature is enthusiasm. We all could see he was fallin’, but you kept backing away.”

  “I was a little overwhelmed.”

  “And Ciana watched over you pretty fierce.” Eden didn’t want to go into why Ciana had been protective of her. “But Arie—she seemed to understand Garret right off. We used to talk, me and her. Sad about her dying.”

  The mention of Arie made Eden nostalgic. “Arie never met a stranger. That was her nature.” She went back to work cutting up salad vegetables.

  From the balcony, they heard a shout and cheers.
Lorna glanced toward the noise. “Guess their team scored. Not like rugby, where the guys pounce on each other. Mean sport.”

  So is finding your way through a relationship, Eden thought. “I get the feeling that Alyssa isn’t on best of terms with Garret’s family, though—especially his mother.”

  “That’s true. Alyssa is so hoity-toity. Not to Maggie’s liking at all.” If Lorna knew any other details, she didn’t offer them. “Ignore Alyssa if she comes around.”

  Eden washed a couple of tomatoes, turned off the tap with her elbow. “That beach party’s coming up. Not sure how I feel about going, knowing she’ll be there. Plus there’s the bathing suit thing.”

  “Rubbish! You’re being silly. She’s tall and thin like a bird. Has to be because of modeling. She used to starve herself, maybe eat a lettuce leaf for lunch. But you …” Lorna smiled at Eden. “You have a great body. Just look at yourself.”

  “Oh, Lorna—”

  “You’ve got curves and boobs. Alyssa’s flat as my hand. I’ve seen her in the locker room. That girl has no titties. Tom says guys like their girls with some meat.” Her eyes twinkled. “Something to hold on to in the dark.”

  Eden laughed. “Back home, we say, ‘a man don’t want to have to shake the sheets to find you.’ ” She picked up her glass, swirled the ruby liquid.

  Lorna whooped. “That’s why Tom and I get on so well.” She patted her backside. “He can’t miss me in the dark or in a crowd.”

  Eden laughed so hard wine splashed over the top of her glass.

  “What’s so funny?” Tom asked, coming in the kitchen.

  Behind him Garret stood holding a platter of grilled meat and shrimp. “Must be quite a funny salad. Didn’t know carrots and lettuce could say funny things.”

  But the girls couldn’t stop laughing.

  “I think it’s going to be a while before we eat,” Tom said over his shoulder.

  Garret set the platter on the counter, took Eden by the waist, and pulled her close. “I think the cooks have spent too much time tasting the grapes and not enough time working.” He grinned, took the wineglass from her hand, and drained it. “Problem solved.”