A Memory Worth Dying For (16 page)

He remembered how she liked her coffee? Would this be the moment he remembered everything else?

Daniel remembering that tidbit from their past had both panic and elation battling inside her. She sat down at the table and waited for him to bring the coffee, barely breathing as she stared at him.

When he turned toward the table, a sudden look of bewilderment filled his eyes, and he looked in a daze down at the cups in his hand.

“What in the world?” he murmured.

Marti held her breath and tried not to move when he looked toward her.

“Did you tell me how you like your coffee?”

Marti’s throat was dry so she just shook her head.

“That’s weird. For some reason . . .” Daniel sat the coffee down in front of her and looked deep into her eyes. “Are you sure we’ve never met before?”

Daniel gawked at her—waiting for an answer. She could only stare, hypnotized by the yearning in his eyes. When the cat jumped in her lap for more attention, Marti looked away. She put the cat down, picked up the cup of coffee, and touched it to her lips. “This is perfect. Just the way I like it.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand . . .”

Marti looked at him out of the corner of her eyes and grinned. “Hashtag: weird.”

He laughed and filled his plate before he joined her. “I must be clairvoyant.”

Gerald walked into the room and plopped a black leather-bound Bible on the table. The gleam in his eyes was proof he’d heard their conversation. Picking up a plate at the breakfast bar, he began stabbing pancakes with the fork. The smile he gave Marti was a little like the cat who swallowed the canary—a bit too jubilant. He looked at Daniel as he poured honey on top of his pancakes. “I talked to Max this morning, and he said Abigail’s about ready to be exercised. She’s probably well enough for a good run. Maybe Marti would like to take her out for a ride.” He glanced at Marti and winked.

Daniel looked at Marti with a question in his eyes. “Do you ride, Marti?”

Marti nodded and glanced at Gerald. “I used to ride quite a bit, but I haven’t in a while.”

Daniel nodded. “Okay. Maybe tomorrow when you get tired of working in the studio, you can come down to the stable and we’ll get you fixed up.”

Gerald suddenly seemed excited. “That sounds like a great idea, Marti. You should get Daniel to show you the waterfall on the west forty acres. It’s a good place to gather inspiration.” His smile held worlds of meaning.

She didn’t answer but ducked her head. Things were spiraling completely out of her comfort zone. How in the world did she get herself into such a mess?

TWENTY-NINE

ZACH PARSONS SAT ON AN
old stump behind the Rushing barn and took a puff. Smoke curled above his blond hair and disappeared into the tree branches overhead. If he could stay hidden for a few more minutes, Max wouldn’t know he’d been gone. The stable manager was a stickler for not goofing off. Even though it wasn’t time for a break, Zach had to have a smoke. He’d been smoking since high school, and after ten years, smoking was as much a part of his life as breathing. Cigarettes would probably kill him one day, but right now, they sure did scratch an itch.

He took another puff, laid the cigarette on the edge of the stump beside his set of work keys, and pulled out his new pocket knife.

Max had assigned him another job on top of his daily chores. Anger bubbled up inside of him when he thought about the “easy” job the stable manager wanted done. Max obviously thought his day wasn’t complete unless he assigned Zach an added chore—as if he thought Zach’s day wasn’t long enough.

According to Max, one of the halters Daniel used in training was too large for the smallest of the colts. He was supposed to punch another hole in the leather to make it smaller. It was just his luck he’d lost the leather punch the day before.

He opened his new Victorinox knife and searched for the right tool. The knife was a new toy. It had thirty different tools attached—anything from a blade to a pair of scissors—and the shiny red handle had a gold and yellow flame embossed on the side.

He pulled out the reamer tool and pushed the tip through the leather. Once the tip poked through on the other side, he gave it several twists until the hole opened up and enlarged to the right size.

He twisted the knife out of the oiled leather and stuck the knife blade into the old stump. The prong of the halter buckle slipped into the hole he’d made and held tight. Perfect. Maybe this would get Max off his back.

He picked up the cigarette and took another puff, then glanced around the edge of the barn to see if Max had missed him yet. He didn’t see Max, but he did see a tall man walking over from the house garage.

He’d recognize that walk anywhere. Jordan Welsh. Vinny’s father. Years ago, Vinny drove a car in the NASCAR circuit, and Zach had been one of his on-the-road truck drivers. Jordan hung around the track making his son miserable—and everyone else as well—until Vinny made him leave. Sympathy surged through Zach for the way Vinny had publicly evicted his father. No one deserved to be humiliated in such a public way.

Zach stubbed out the cigarette in the dirt and rounded the corner of the barn where he stood with hands thrust in his pockets. When Jordan saw Zach hovering around the barn, he walked toward him.

“Zach, what are you doin’ here?”

“Workin’.”

“I can see. I guess you gave up following the circuit around and found a job you could handle.”

Zach bristled for a second. “I did okay working for Vince at NASCAR. Better than some.”

It was Jordan’s turn to bristle. Zach’s jab hit home. Vinny had thrown his father out of the pit before the last race of Vinny’s racing career. Jordan had been livid. Vinny yelled at the top of his lungs, “We only need one boss around here, and I’m him. Now, get out!”

There was bad blood between father and son back then—that’s for sure.

Jordan swallowed hard and took two steps toward the barn. He eyed the stump and halter but didn’t comment. “That’s all in the past. I hear you used to work for Vinny and Angela on the other side of the county.”

Zach nodded. “Yeah. So?”

“I heard you worked there breaking green horses.”

“Yep. Moved everything I owned from California to Texas and broke every horse they brought me for a year, till Vinny died.”

Jordan gave him a pointed stare. Turning back toward the mountains, he said, “Are you interested in doing that kind of work again?” Jordan didn’t look at Zach but waited for Zach to speak.

“Are you offering?”

“Maybe. If you’re interested. I need someone to break new colts. I figure . . . you might be the one to talk to. I hear Rushing also has a successful way of training show horses. Figured you’ve learned his technique while you’ve been working here.”

Zach’s surprise bled into his voice. “Maybe.”

“How long you been here?”

“Long enough. You come offering me a job, or did you come for somethin’ else?”

Jordan crossed his arms and looked around the yard. “I thought I’d mention the job, but I also came looking for Gerald.”

“Not home.”

“What about Daniel?”

“Not home either.”

“When will they be back?”

“Don’t know.”

Jordan stared at Zach, waiting for him to say more. When he didn’t, he said, “Think about what I said. Let me know if you’re interested.” He pulled a card from his pocket. “My number’s on the card.”

Zach took the card and stuck it in his back pocket.

Jordan leaned over the stump and looked at the keys and halter spread out on the stump.

“What’s this?”

Zach jerked up the halter. “Haven’t you seen a halter before?”

Jordan stiffened his back. “Of course. I just wondered what you’re doing with it.” When Zach didn’t comment, Jordan leaned into his personal space. “I want to talk to Gerald or Daniel. I’m running the Welsh ranch now, and I’d like to find out how they handle certain things on the farm, that’s all. Will you tell them I stopped by?”

Zach nodded and pulled on the halter to loosen the hole in the leather a bit more. He tried to ignore the man still standing beside him.

“That’s a sharp looking knife you have there.” Jordan picked up the Swiss army knife and turned it around in his hand.

Zach took the knife from Jordan and pulled out all the attachments. “Yep. It’s a beaut. It has almost any tool you could ask for, and it cost a pretty penny too.” Pride filled his voice as he rotated the knife in front of Jordan.

Jordan nodded. “Not exactly what I’d use to poke holes in leather. Don’t you have a hole punch?”

Zach closed up the attachments in a few short movements and stuck it back in the stump. “Yep, I’ll tell the boss you came by to see him.”

Jordan took two steps toward the front of the building. “Would it be all right if I took a look around the barn?”

Zach shrugged. “Reckon it’d be all right. I’ll see if Max can show you around.” Zach took the halter with him as he stepped into the office. Max was nowhere to be found, so he walked back to Jordan who was standing at the corner of the barn. “I’d better show you around. The boss don’t like strangers ’round his horses.”

Zach showed Jordan around the place. First, he took him into the training arena and explained how Daniel’s training methods were done. He pretended he knew all the steps of training, and pride swelled his voice as he told Jordan he was Daniel’s number one assistant.

After Zach showed him around the main areas of the barn, he said, “I better get back to my chores. It’ll be dark before I’m done. ”

Jordan nodded. “Think about what I said, but don’t think too long. I have to fill the position soon.”

Zach watched Jordan walk away and bellowed out a laugh when the car drove away. Jordan bought his bragging about being a good trainer. He was a better actor than he thought. He grinned. Jordan thought he’d “learned something” while working here, and he’d only been here three months. That was a laugh. ‘Bout all he’d been doing in that time was mucking out stalls. If he took that job, he’d have to learn all Daniel’s tricks before he left. No sense in throwing in with Jordan if he didn’t have an edge.

When Zach turned back toward the old stump, he noticed something shining in the grass. The leather hole punch. He must have dropped it there on one of his smoking breaks. He picked it up and punched through the halter. The hole was more rounded now. Perfect. After checking the halter to make sure the buckle worked perfectly, he went to find Max and show him the excellent job he’d done. Maybe it would earn him points with the boss, at least until he took the other job.

THIRTY

“TURN JUST A LITTLE TO
the left, toward the light.”

Daniel’s shoulders shifted toward the windows in the studio, and he raised his eyebrows, asking for guidance.

“Much better. Now just relax and try to stay in that position.”

Daniel laughed. “That’s an oxymoron, isn’t it?”

Her tentative laugh sailed across the room. “Well . . . do your best, okay?”

She stood in front of the easel and tried to ignore Princess rubbing against her leg and filling the room with her purrs. Finally, the cat settled at the base of the easel and rested her head on Marti’s foot.

Daniel watched the cat settle in and commented. “I can’t believe how friendly that cat is with you. It’s not in her character
at all.”

Marti said nothing but smiled. She picked up a blue-green pastel and began forming shapes of Daniel’s face on the sanded pastel paper. After five minutes of uncomfortable silence, and watching his eyes observe her every move, Marti’s hands began to sweat.

“You can talk if you like. It’ll help you loosen up, and it won’t affect my sketch enough to worry about.”

“Oh . . . okay. Tell me something about your family.”

Hashtag: NotAGoodIdea.

“Uh . . . I’d rather you do the talking so I can concentrate on my sketch. Why don’t you tell me about your time in the army?”

Daniel frowned. “Well, I don’t remember anything about the army, but I’ll tell you about raising horses. I’ve been doing that for as long as I can remember.”

“Okay. That sounds good.”

As Daniel launched into the details of breeding, training, and selling prize-winning quarter horses, his eyes glowed with an excitement she used to love to see. Her heart plummeted to the bottom of her stomach. Bringing back those memories was physically painful and made her mouth go dry.

After sketching for twenty minutes, Marti’s psyche had taken a beating, and she’d endured all the memories she could stand. She laid the rose madre pastel back in the wooden box and stood back to distance herself from Daniel and the fast growing likeness of him in front of her.

“Okay, let’s take a short break.”

She nodded her head as she stood evaluating her work. After brushing off the excess dust at the bottom of the paper, she held it up carefully for Daniel to see.

Daniel stood captivated, his eyes traveling over the square piece of paper.

“That’s amazing. It must have taken you years to learn that skill.”

Marti shook her head, gazing at the portrait to keep from looking at his eyes. “Actually, I’ve only been painting about two years.” She put the picture back on the easel. “I think it’s a God-given talent.”

“Two years? You’re kidding, aren’t you?” He moved over beside her and looked over her shoulder at the loose sketch of his face. He leaned in toward her, examining the picture closely.

Marti felt heat travel to her face when he stepped closer—even before she felt the warmth of his arm next to hers. The musky smell of his aftershave sent a ripple of emotion shooting through her veins. Her knees, almost too weak to hold her up, locked into position. Turning her head slightly, she was so close that the image of him blurred. He turned closer toward her and looked into her eyes. The contemplation in his gaze quickly turned to . . . what? Recognition? Familiarity? Longing?

All she knew was that he stilled immediately, peered into her eyes until he found her soul, and held it prisoner. She couldn’t move. Something inside her came to life, a longing so strong it consumed her and begged to be set free.