A Fair to Remember (6 page)

Jaycee got up to go inside, but stopped and turned back to Olivia. “Oh, and you got another letter from New York.” She paused. “What does he want from you?”

Olivia slid her eyes shut. “I don’t care. Please just send it back. I don’t want to see it.”

Her mother nodded, looking relieved, and slipped into the house.

*

The sun glimmered
like a steel mirror off the river just below the Old Road. Jake tightened his grip on Orca’s steering wheel. Above him, the sky stretched on for miles before jutting into the nearby Copper Mountain, so pretty and stark it made his insides ache.
No skies like this back in Maryland, or even Seattle
. The only place he’d seen the equal was in the deserts of Afghanistan and Iraq, where the days were either blistering or freezing, and nights were so dark, so full of stars, a man could lose himself in them and almost forget about war.

Almost, but never quite.

He thought about Olivia’s kiss, the deep, sweet slide of her tongue against his. He hadn’t thought about much else since. The softness of her skin against his, the sweet press of her breasts against his chest… even now he felt his blood heat, just remembering it.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, seeing her again after all these years. He hadn’t expected her to be the same girl he’d left here in Marietta. But neither had he anticipated that something had her scared. She’d been burned by her marriage, no doubt. But it felt like more.

He hadn’t spent twelve years of his life in a war without learning to recognize what he’d glimpsed in her eyes last night in the river—fear. But of what?
Him
? He didn’t think so. The possibility of what could happen between them?
Maybe
. But if he didn’t miss his guess, there was more, much more, than she was telling him. He’d just have to get to the bottom of whatever it was.

They’d crossed a line last night that couldn’t be uncrossed and he intended to spend the next week or two convincing her she was wrong about men in general, but more specifically about—

Jake slammed his foot on the brake!

He jerked a hand out to catch Monday from flying off her seat and fishtailed to a stop a few feet from…

…a red and silver soda can lying in the road.

He blinked hard and swore.

Of course it was just a damned, empty soda can. Lying on a back road in Montana. It was nothing else. But the cold sweat that had broken out on him was accompanied by the familiar chimpanzee using his insides as a punching bag.

Soda cans were a favorite among insurgents to house IED’s on the roads of Kandahar or Kabul. Cans, toys, and baby car seats and… other things he didn’t want to remember.

There were no trip wires here. No grenades with pulled pins inside waiting to take the bottom of the truck he was riding in out. Or missiles trying to knock his chopper out of the sky. He was in Marietta. Safe.

And he wasn’t a soldier anymore.

Monday whined and licked his face. He took her by the neck and hugged her. As was her way, she allowed it and licked his ear. That calmed him, forced the chimpanzee back in its cage.

“Sorry, girl.”

He gripped the steering wheel hard, staring down the road. Things like this still happened to him now and then. Less now than when he’d first come back, since his leg had healed. But if it wasn’t an innocent soda can lying by the side of the road, it was a dream that sucker-punched him in the middle of the night, or an old acquaintance, buying him a drink in a bar.

He pulled back on the road and started driving, but his peace was gone.

When he’d gone five miles or so, he slowed and pulled into the open gates of the Marietta cemetery. He took the familiar drive up the hill to where a huge pine sheltered the stones planted underneath.

He stopped the truck near the markers etched with the names William and Kelly Lassen. He reached behind him and pulled some flowers from the backseat and let Monday out.

His parents’ graves were well-tended because he paid for them to be so, and in a spot that overlooked the river and valley below. He liked to think they would have been pleased with this place. Not that it mattered to them now. They were long gone to somewhere better. But it felt good to come here and talk to them. He couldn’t really say why.

Sometimes his parents came to him in dreams—good dreams—and they’d have long talks about everyday things, as if they had just come down to the kitchen for coffee and settled around his table. Sometimes there was no talk at all, only relief at seeing them again. And then, he’d wake and find them gone.

He placed roses on his mother’s grave, arranged them in the permanent container and stepped back.

“Well,” he said, in a low voice, “I made it back. God knows how, but I figured you two must have been watching over me. I’m sorry I haven’t come here sooner. Had a hard time coming.”

He sat down on the granite bench beside the stones and leaned down, with his elbows on his knees. “I suppose you saw all of it. The crash, everything. Sorry, Mom, for the scare. I did my best to fly us out of that attack, but… I hope you two showed up for them. The boys who came your way.”

He scrubbed a hand across his forehead. Even now, when he closed his eyes, he could hear the whine of the Taliban mortar rip out a chunk of the MH-60 he’d been flying that day. Still feel the terrible shudder of the crippled chopper as it slipped out of his control less than half a click from base. The terror of seeing the ground rush up to meet them still echoed somewhere deep inside him and sometimes woke him at night. Just like Brody and Link’s screams for help did, coming from behind the licking blue and orange flames erupting in the ruined tangle of metal which, only seconds before, had been his chopper—

Jake snapped his eyes open and took a deep breath, forcing the memory away, tucking it into the place he’d resigned it to. And, mostly, it seemed content to stay there. But not here in this place, amongst ghosts.

For a long time, he stared out across the valley, listening to the sound of water rushing over the stones. Monday lay down atop his dad’s grave and stretched out. Jake reached down to scratch her. “You would’ve liked this dog, Dad. Looks like she’s already likes you.”

Above him, a Stellar’s jay peered down at him and ruffled its black and blue feathers. Jake smiled as his chest tightened. “I suppose you both already know I saw Olivia last night, too. She’s turned into a beauty, hasn’t she? Yeah. She’s dead set against us, but I don’t think she knows what she wants. Something has her spooked.” He grinned. “Pardon the pun. But I have a feeling she could bear a little watching over, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Anyway, I’m not planning on failing, but if this doesn’t work out,” he said at last, “I’ve decided I’m gonna sell the house. Your house. Pull up stakes here once and for all. I can’t really think of another reason to stay besides Olivia.”

He got slowly to his feet. Monday jumped up, ready to follow. “Anyway… that’s what I’m thinking about. Miss you guys.” He started to go, but turned back around. “Oh, and don’t worry about Deke. He’s doin’ good and I’m going to see him today. Who knew we’d end up business partners?” The jay squawked at him and he smiled. “Yeah, me either. You two take care. I’ll see you again, soon. But not too soon.”

As he pulled the truck back out onto the road, the jay called out behind him. Jake smiled and headed toward Lane’s End Ranch, the Canaday place.

*

Carrie Keeler pulled
into Lane’s End with her latest problem child at nine a.m. The red and grey horse trailer, emblazoned with the rescue logo on the side, was becoming a familiar sight here since Olivia had started her fledgling business of teaching dressage to area kids.

What she did for Carrie wasn’t for pay, because the rescue organization spent all their donation dollars on pulling horses from terrible situations.

Was it crazy she had no fear of horses on the ground and yet she couldn’t bring herself to ride again? Yes. Yes, it was. But it was her crazy and she’d learned to live with it.

Olivia generally reserved Sundays for this sort of work, since, as the official black sheep of the family, she didn’t attend church with everyone else and, for that same reason, Sunday mornings were typically clear.

This horse, Zabar, Carrie had warned her, would be a challenge. Even as her friend pulled the truck into the yard, the sides of the six-horse trailer shook with its single passenger’s wrath. He was kicking the living daylights out of the transport from the inside, which was never good and could easily lead to a fall.

Zabar’s survival and future would depend on what Olivia could accomplish with him, today, as Carrie had been completely unable to connect with him in the drive from Wyoming. A horse who’d been abused and neglected, and who couldn’t bond with a human, would never be adopted. And putting him down, the only other alternative at this point, was something none of them wanted.

But she felt sure she could help him. At least, she hoped she could.

Carrie backed the trailer into position near the round pen, parked the truck and came around to unlatch the gate.

Jake’s truck pulled in as she and Ken, her father’s long time stableman and a real part of the Canaday family, were attempting to unload the horse from trailer.

A rush of pleasure skidded through her, as Jake got out of his truck. The memory of the kiss they’d shared in the water made her heart race. Idiotically, she wanted him to kiss her again. Right now. But a little warning bell dinged in her head, urging caution. But for better or worse, Jake was back in her life. The question was, how exactly did he fit in?

Monday jumped out of the truck with Jake, who looked every inch the cowboy in his worn, low-slung denims, boots and rolled up shirtsleeves. As teens, while Olivia had entered equestrian competitions locally and around the state, he’d worked two jobs—a waiter at his parents’ diner and at Carrigan’s cattle ranch as a horse wrangler. Just one more intersection in their lives back then—a love of horses.

Her invitation today had not been made lightly. He needed some horse time. It would be good for him. He just didn’t know it yet.

Monday bounded up to the trailer, stopped at the ramp and stared, awestruck, at the horse.

Zabar eyeballed the dog and instantly forgot to object to being backed down the ramp.

“Watch him,” Carrie warned Jake. “I don’t know how he is around dogs.”

But Monday had no problem finding out. She trotted boldly up to the horse, who lowered his head for a sniff, once he was down the ramp.

“Will you look at that?” Carrie said, astonished.

Monday gave Zabar’s muzzle a tongue swipe.

Jake said, “This dog’s never known a stranger.”

“And maybe that’s just what this horse needs,” Carrie agreed, taking a second, more appreciative look at Jake.

“Hi,” Olivia said, feeling suddenly shy with all the people around.

He leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek and once he put his hands on her arms, she forgot to breathe for a moment. He stepped back and nodded to the others. Olivia introduced them.

Ken, who at sixty-something, sported a mustache and salt and pepper hair, wiped a bandana over the back of his neck, reached for Jake’s hand and exchanged handshakes with him. “You grew some since last I saw you, Jake,” he said approvingly. “Good to have you back home.”

“Thanks, Ken. Good to be back.”

It
was
good to have him back. Jake moved up beside them and patted the horse’s neck. Zabar’s flesh quivered and his eyes showed white as he glanced around at Jake. The animal was still covered in mud and manure from the pull, and way too thin for Olivia’s liking.

“What happened to him?” Jake asked.

“You don’t really want to know,” Carrie said. “Suffice it to say, the people in Wyoming who owned, abused, and abandoned him are gone. I brought him here for Olivia to work her magic on him.”

“
Magic
?”

Jake infused the word with another meaning altogether and she blushed. She smoothed a hand down the nervous horse’s flank.

“Not magic at all. I’m just gonna try to give Zabar here a little something to hang onto.”