Kentucky Home (16 page)

When Keith and Luke came in through the back kitchen door, tails between their legs, they were greeted by a disapproving scowl from Miss Libby and the sight of Mal sitting at the counter with a frozen steak on her face.

“Sweetheart, I'm so sorry—” Mal held up a hand before Luke could finish.

“I've had it. I'm tired, I'm cranky, and my head hurts. I'm sick of men. I'm sick of your power trips and your fighting. I'm done with men! Miss Libby, run away with me.”

Miss Libby laughed. “You're too young for me, but it's a lovely offer.” Her look turned disapproving the second she turned back to the brothers. “You two, I'm not sure about. I'm tempted to send you to your rooms without your supper.”

Keith's attention, though, was on Mal. “Does your head hurt?”

She gave him a one-eyed glare. “What do you think?”

“Can I look at it?” At her skeptical glance, he said, “I'm a doctor. I mean, I know I'm a vet, but please let me look at your face.”

She lowered the steak and he kneeled down in front of her.

“Follow my finger.” She did. He gingerly touched the tender skin around her eye. She flinched. It was already starting to bruise. “How bad is your headache?”

“It's nothing.” She looked at Luke, who had started to protest.

“I'm not just being stoic here. My eye is throbbing a little, but my brain does not feel jarred.”

“Mal,” Keith said softly. “Luke told me that Michael—”

Mal snapped her head toward Luke, then winced.

“Should we take her to the hospital?” Luke was nervously pacing the linoleum.

Keith gave her an assessing look. “No, I think she's fine. We'll just keep an eye on her tonight.”

Luke stepped forward and reached for her hand. “Mal, I'm so—”

“Don't,” she said, taking her hand back and returning the steak to her face. “I know it was an accident. I accept your apology. I stepped into your fist, which was a stupid thing for me to do.” She stood up, touched Luke gently on the shoulder. “It's not the same thing.”

“Baby—”

Mal turned back to Keith. “But I still hate both of you, and if I see you fighting again, especially over me, I'll make sure Miss Libby never cooks for you again.”

“And I won't,” Miss Libby agreed.

Just then, Cal walked into the kitchen. “Why is Mal wearing my dinner on her face?”

Keith wouldn't let Mal take a nap—he wanted to be able to keep an eye on her in case there was any residual head damage. But no one else in the family—Keith included—would let her lift a hand to do anything. It was like when she first arrived, although this was worse because now she knew what she could do. She tried helping Libby in the kitchen, only to be shooed away into the living room. She didn't want to see Keith. She couldn't handle the concern and pity she saw in his eyes where she used to see desire. She tried to help Chase in the barn even though what she knew about horses she could fit into a thimble. Chase gamely showed her how the mares liked to be brushed and she was getting along just fine until Katie caught them at it.

“Mal! What are you doing!”

Mal dropped the brush guiltily as if she had been caught with a joint instead of a horse brush.

“Relax, Katie. She's just brushing Lucy.”

“She's supposed to be resting!”

“But I'm not allowed to sleep!”

“Well, she shouldn't be around the horses,” Katie yelled at Chase, ignoring Mal. “She could get hurt! What if one of them bolts or something!”

“First of all, they're not going to bolt if they have nothing to provoke them—and you coming in here yelling like the house is on fire is definitely going to provoke them. Secondly, she's brushing
Lucy
, who is deaf and half blind. That horse wouldn't bolt if you kicked her.”

Mal put a protective hand on Lucy's rump, trying not to feel insulted that she was just being humored with this task. She had thought she was being helpful.

“Well, she's done here. I need her in the house.”

“Um, hi. Do I get any say in this?”

Chase and Katie turned from where they were arguing toe-to-toe and looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

“I got punched in the face—by accident, I know. I'm not crippled or mentally incapacitated. I can brush a half-dead horse, dammit.”

Katie looked at her sympathetically. “I know, I'm sorry. Luke feels terrible and he's beating himself up and driving me up the wall. Dad's taking it out on this ‘investment idea' of Luke's. Did you see that horse?” she asked Chase.

“He's a beauty.”

“I hate to admit it, and if you ever say I did I will deny it, but I think Luke might have done good here.”

“We'll see what your father says.”

Katie snorted. “Well, right about now he's not going to say anything Luke wants to hear.”

Mal threw up her hands. “Luke has nothing to be sorry about on my account. Really! It was an accident. He should be sorry that he was acting like a Neanderthal—so should Keith—but I don't hold this against him.”

“It's a pretty good shiner,” Chase said helpfully. Katie gave him a jab in the ribs. “Well, it is!”

“The only good thing about it is that it's going to make the two of them feel like crap every time they look at you, which they should,” Katie said.

“Great, that's just the boost my self-confidence needs.”

“Sorry. I'm a vengeful little sister. Listen, I have to run into town so I'll take you to the library. You can use Luke's library card and rack up all kinds of fines for him.”

When they got back, Mal sat on the porch, wrapped in a blanket, sipping tea and reading trashy books with one eye, holding an ice pack over the other. She'd been planning to check out something serious and smart-looking, but in the end, she decided she would get what she really wanted. Luckily, the gray-haired librarian in sensible shoes knew just what she was looking for: a happy ending.

As she followed one woman's journey from kick-ass bounty hunter to happily alpha after, she thought about her own closure. Maybe it was remembering Keith's hairy chest, but more likely it was the throbbing of her swollen eye, getting better by the minute. What was she doing here? Hiding out from Michael? Hadn't she learned to stand on her own two feet? She could face Michael now, right?

Only one way to find out.

She snuck the cordless phone to the porch and dialed her old home number. She would have preferred to use her cell, but, well, that was pretty much out of order. The line rang and rang, and she was just debating whether or not to leave a message when Michael picked up.

“Hello?” He sounded like he was just waking up.

“Michael?”

“Who is this?”

“Michael, it's Mal. Mallory.”

“Oh, my wife,” he spat.

“Who is that?” she heard a female voice in the background.

“It's my goddamn wife,” he shouted, not entirely away from the mouthpiece.

“Well, tell her you're busy and come back to bed!”

Ugh,
thought Mal.
The sooner this is over, the better.

“Mallory, I have to go. Busy.”

“Michael, wait a second. I want to talk to you.”

“You finally want to talk? What do you want?”

“I'm coming home. We need to get divorced.”

 

 

It wasn't until about half an hour before dinner that Keith realized he hadn't seen Mal all afternoon. Remembering how she had followed him that first morning on the farm, begging for something to do, he was a little surprised. But then, Luke had punched her in the face, no matter how accidentally.
Unlike her husband,
he thought, clenching his fists. Any man who would hit a woman in anger didn't deserve . . .

But Michael wasn't here. Mal was. Maybe she was passed out somewhere, concussed and suffering. Probably not—if her symptoms had been that bad, Keith would have insisted that she go to the hospital. But it gave him an excuse to find her, and it explained the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He knew she was mad—not that she got hit, which killed him. He didn't like the way she so easily took the blame. She seemed more mad that they were fighting because of her—as if that was also her responsibility. They weren't really fighting over her—well, they were, but what was there to be so mad about? He and Luke beat each other up all the time; it was how they worked out their problems. Or at least it had been when they were kids. What did Mal mean, that it was about power trips?

He thought he might know, which was the real reason for the nervous stomach. He hated to think of the kind of relationship that she was used to, that she was expecting. Didn't she know him at all? He didn't want power over her. He didn't want to own her. He just wanted a chance to love her.

He finally tracked her down in Luke's old room. She had her suitcase on the bed and she was throwing clothes into it, mumbling to herself. If the force she was using on the clothes was any indication, she was still mad.

He stood in the doorway and cleared his throat.

She turned. No, she whirled on him with fire in her eyes.

Definitely still mad.

“I'm fine, Keith. You don't need to check up on me.”

“I'm not.”

“Then what do you want?”

Keith paused, rubbed the back of his neck. “To make sure you were OK.”

Mal threw a pair of socks into the suitcase.

“Are you going somewhere?” Great, Keith. Very observant.

She gave him a look that said just that.

“I'm going back to DC.”

“What? Are you sure that's safe?” He reached for her, but she backed up, away from him.

“Michael is happy with his new girlfriend. It's in his best interests that he get rid of me, and as long as he's getting his way, it's fine. What else am I supposed to do, Keith?” She looked at him, pleading.

He didn't have an answer. Except:
stay
.

“I'm just going for a little while. Michael has the divorce papers ready. I'm going to sign them.”

Relief washed over Keith. She would be free. “Then what?”

Mal sighed. “Then, I don't know. I'll just get a job somewhere and start over.”

“You have a job here.”

Mal raised her eyebrow. “Dr. Monroe will be fine without me. I made sure Billie understands the new system. They don't need me.”

“They do need you! What if something happens! What if . . . the computer breaks!” Keith knew he was pleading, and that he was pleading for the wrong things, but he couldn't stop.

“Keith—” She came over to him now, put her hands on his chest. “Let's be honest. There's nothing for me here, is there?”

He looked into her eyes. He thought he saw hope and desire, but maybe that was just her excitement at starting her life over. He couldn't ask her to stay here. He thought about what Luke had said, about her life with Michael. Keith knew he was the better man, but was that enough? He lived in a bunkhouse, for crying out loud. His dog didn't even have four legs. What kind of life could he offer her here?

He ran his finger along the short hair framing her face, then turned and walked out of the room.
Let her go,
he thought.
She doesn't belong here.

“We planning on waiting on those girls for dinner?” Since Cal was already seated with his napkin in his lap, he clearly wasn't.

“Katie is driving Mal to the train station. I'm saving her a plate.”

Cal grunted. And that was about the end of conversation for the rest of dinner. Libby tried to make small talk, but one look from Cal silenced her. Chase looked like he wished he had decided to eat dinner anywhere else, or that he could resist Libby's cooking. Keith kept his head down, barely tasting the pork chops. Even Luke was unusually silent.

Finally, when Cal was finished, he wiped his mouth with his napkin and looked at Luke. “So, Son, what kind of trouble did you bring us this time?”

Luke, Chase, and Cal headed out to the barn while Keith helped Libby in the kitchen. He didn't want to sit through Cal running Luke over the coals. He knew if Luke's idea was sound, and if it wasn't too expensive, Cal would eventually come around. Maybe. Chase seemed to like the idea of a stud farm. Let Chase invest in it, then.

“What is Luke up to, bringing that stud horse around here?” Libby asked, handing Keith a pot to dry.

“Same thing he always does. Acting without thinking,” Keith replied.

“Worked out okay last time,” Libby said.

“The topless horseback riding lessons?”

“Good Lord, no,” Libby said, laughing. “I thought your father was going to have a heart attack over that one. No, Keith, I meant Mal.”

“Yeah, that worked out great.”

“She did us all some good, and you know it.”

Keith concentrated on getting the pot very, very dry.

“She did you some good, Keith.”

He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to admit it was true.

“Why did you let her go, Keith?”

“I didn't
let
her go. She wanted to go, and she went.”

“She would have stayed. Or she would have come back. For you. She fit in here, Keith. She worked with you.”

Keith looked at Miss Libby, the woman who'd raised him from a lost boy without a mother. “I couldn't ask her to stay. I couldn't do that to her.”

Libby patted his hand. “Oh, my sweet boy.” They heard shouts coming from the barn. The negotiations were going well, then. “We better go out there and make sure they don't kill each other.”

 

 

The ride to the train station had been tense and silent, Katie staring straight at the road, Mal looking out the window, trying to memorize the scenery. She would never see it again.

“So you're just going to sign the papers?”

Mal looked over at Katie, who kept her gaze forward. “Yeah.”

“He couldn't mail them?”

“Well, sure he could. But you don't know my husband. He's not real big on going out of his way to make things convenient for others.”

“If he's such a jerk, why did you marry him?”

“He wasn't always.” Mal sighed. “Yes, he was. I was just young and stupid. And then I was too scared to leave. I thought I had invested everything in my marriage, and if I gave it up, I would have nothing left.”

Katie took her eyes off the road for a second to look at Mal. “I'm never getting married.”

Mal laughed. “I'm pretty sure any marriage of yours will be different from mine.”

“Why? You think I can't be married?”

“No, I think you're not going to let a man boss you around.”

“That's for damn sure.” Katie paused.

“That's not how marriage always is, Katie. Just don't marry an asshole.”

Katie snorted. “Well, then there's no danger of me getting married.”

They rode in silence for a few more minutes until Katie turned into the train station parking lot. There were a few people milling around in business casual, working their smart phones. They still had a few minutes before the train boarded, and Mal would be gone.

Katie got out and tugged Mal's suitcase out of the backseat. “Well, good luck on your divorce.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you going to get any money out of it?”

“I doubt it. I don't even care anymore.”

“Where are you going to go next?”

“Anywhere, I guess. One step at a time, though.”

“I would think you would have more of a plan.”

Mal laughed. “Yeah, me, too.”

“You could come back here. We can use your help.”

Mal snorted. “Sure, I was a real help.”

“OK, you're crap at farm work. But we'd love to have you. Keith would, I'm sure.”

Mal looked toward the track. The rumble of the train sounded in the distance. Almost time to go. “I'm not so sure about that. If he did, he didn't say.”

Katie turned Mal's shoulders so they were face-to-face. “When have you ever known my brother to speak up?”

Mal smiled, pushing down the lump in her throat. She hadn't known Keith long, but she felt that she knew him well. “Train's here.”

“You need help up to the platform?” Katie asked.

“No, I'm OK. Thanks for everything.” Mal gave her a hug, then lugged her suitcase up to the platform. She fingered the ticket in her pocket. This was it. On to the rest of her life.

 

 

When Keith and Libby reached the barn, Luke was shouting in his father's face, waving his arms madly. Chase was stepping in between them. Cal's face was red as a beet, and he was giving Luke a death glare. Then, suddenly, he stepped back and clutched his arm. “Cal?” Libby shouted, hurrying over.

“It's nothing. Indigestion. I'm going to walk it off.”

“Keith, walk with your father.”

“Dammit, woman, I'm fine! I don't need a babysitter! It's your cooking that's killing me!”

“Fine! Go! Walk! I'll just keep quiet and pick up after you!”

“Good! That's your job!”

Keith, Luke, and Chase all looked at Cal with open-mouthed astonishment. Nobody had ever, not in the twenty years she had worked there, talked to Miss Libby like that. She was their Libby, their mother hen. Nobody ever spoke crossly to her, especially not Cal.

Miss Libby didn't say anything, just turned and walked toward the house.

“Lib, I didn't mean it—”

“Calvin Carson, I have lived with you for twenty years and I have never been made to feel like anything less than part of this family. You take that walk around your damn yard by your own damn self, and then maybe we'll see if I've cooled off enough to accept your apology.”

Cal got up and started toward her even as she turned her back on him. He took a few steps, clutched his arm, and collapsed in the dirt.

“Dad!” Luke screamed and ran to his side.

“Oh my God, is he breathing?”

“Call nine-one-one! Libby, get the phone!”

“Let me through! Let me see him!” Keith pushed past Luke and rolled Cal over onto his back, listening for a heartbeat. Without a word, he reared up and began chest compressions. He vaguely heard Chase on the phone with emergency services, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luke holding Miss Libby up. Peanut barked from the porch. He only partially registered all that, though, and concentrated on keeping his father alive.

 

 

As the train pulled into the station, Mal turned to look for Katie in the parking lot to get one more glimpse of a Carson before she left them all forever. Katie was holding her cell phone to her ear, an intense look on her face—anger? Pain? Mal couldn't figure it out. Then she heard Katie scream “No!” and double over.

Mal left her suitcase and ran back to Katie.