Small-Town Dreams (23 page)

Ross smiled. “I guess we’re driving you and your aunt crazy.”

“You guess? Aunt Meg has a permanent case of indigestion. You two have ruined every meal we’ve tried to eat as a family in the eight weeks he’s been back.”

The phone rang, and Hope said a quick prayer that it wasn’t another customer canceling lessons or making plans to retrieve a horse. Rumors of a poor safety record were deadly in their world.

It wasn’t. It was Emily Roberts, Jeff’s housekeeper. “Hope, you have to come over here,” she said without preamble. “I’m at my wits’ end with him and this place.”

Hope looked up. Her father looked at her expectantly. She covered the mouthpiece. “It’s personal—not a customer. Why don’t you go on up to the house for lunch? And could you tell Aunt Meg I’ve already grabbed something on the fly?”

“Jeff doesn’t want to see me,” she reminded Mrs. Roberts when her father had left the office.

“Just please get here.”

“What’s so wrong all of a sudden?”

“More of the same except…he’s deeply depressed and he’s been drinking. And the hands in the stables aren’t doing their jobs. I just had a horse on the breakfast room terrace.”

Hope had to pause a moment to get a handle on that piece of information. “A horse on the terrace? And what do you mean he’s drinking? Jeff’s parents were killed by a drunk driver. He doesn’t drink. Ever. Not even to be sociable.”

“Tell him that. This has been going on for about a week. He gets that guard he hired to bring it to him. But today Reginald Boyer is here. Jeff got one of the men to bring him downstairs. I think Boyer’s angling to buy Mr. March. He was in a nasty mood with me then all sweetness and light with Jeff. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen if Boyer convinces Jeff. He needs the dream, at least. And I’m afraid of what Mr. Boyer will say if Jeff continues to refuse.”

Hope’s heart froze as she recalled Jeff telling the nurse to give him an overdose. Jeff was alone and vulnerable. No matter how angry he was at her, Hope knew she couldn’t let that man take away Jeff’s last vestige of hope. “Make sure the gates are open,” she told Mrs. Roberts as she stood.

She made a grab for her jacket as she hung up the phone, then barreled out of her office and right into her father’s chest.

“Hope, you can’t go over there,” he said, a mutinous expression on his face.

“Listening at doors now, Dad?” she asked, trying to tamp down her annoyance.

“I’m only trying to protect you from making a huge mistake.”

“Who asked you to? And Jeff is not a mistake!”

He sighed. “Hope, he’s not worth it. He’ll only cause you heartache. All he cares about is having fun and spending money.”

Hope stared at her father. Where did he get these ideas? “You have no idea what Jeff’s really like because you’ve never given him a chance. I doubt you’ve had a civil word to say about him or to him since Cole was arrested.”

“This has nothing to do with Cole. It has to do with you being in love with a bored playboy who’ll do nothing but cause you grief and waste your life!”

“Jeff isn’t spoiled or lazy.”

“No? Then why does he just sit over there on that estate? Why has he refused to even try getting better? Because he’s always just drifted along and done the easiest thing.”

“You don’t know him! Now get out of my way. He needs me.”

Ross grabbed her arm when she tried to sidestep him. “I’m not letting you go over there to waste your time on him.”

Hope shook him off. “It’s my time to waste. I am not a child and I’m not letting you pick my friends for me. It’s none of your business.”

“It
is
my business if you go over there during working hours. I don’t pay you to play nursemaid to a spoiled cripple.”

That did it! She started forward, throwing her reply over her shoulder. “I’ll be back before lunch hour’s over, and if not, you can dock my pay!”

P
ale and visibly upset, Mrs. Roberts opened the front door of Jeff’s imposing neoclassical home. Hope’s temper, which had already been flowing at full throttle, shot to an all-time high. She’d struggled long and hard with her temper and with the Lord’s help had mostly mastered it, but seeing how upset Emily Roberts was undid a lot of work.

Mrs. Roberts dragged Hope across the marble foyer with a forceful grip, leading her toward the front parlor. “That Mr. Boyer’s getting nasty, just as I feared. He hid his mood with Jeff till just a few minutes ago, but he was vicious about our boy. He said he’d been careless or he’d never have been hurt.”

Hope felt a fierce stab of guilt pierce her heart. It hadn’t been Jeff’s carelessness but her own.

“He was vile about it when he first arrived. Luckily, Jeff was still upstairs. Please don’t let him say anything too upsetting to Jeffrey’s face. It’ll break what’s left of his spirit. I just know it.”

Hope took a few calming breaths. It wouldn’t do to charge in like a half-crazed mare. “Take it easy, Mrs. R,” she said. “I’ll see if I can divert things a bit. If Jeff doesn’t toss me out first, that is.”

Hope rushed ahead, determined to be as civil and pleasant as possible, but she felt her blood pressure rise when she heard Boyer’s cutting voice emanate from the room ahead. She reached one of the columns that stood sentinel in the doorway of the front parlor. She gripped the cool marble, her fingertips turning white as she tried to tone down her temper.

“Honestly, Jeffrey. You’re being childish,” Reginald Boyer said. “Mr. March does not belong rusticating in the country or serving as a stud. He lives for competition. Gary Johnson has a shot at moving up in the standings with a better animal. You’re useless to the team now, but you could make this one last contribution. Don’t be so selfish. You’re no good to the animal anymore. Really, when was the last time you exercised him?”

“I can’t walk, Reggie,” Jeff replied, his tone flat. “Obviously I’m not the one caring for him. Or exercising him.”

“He’s worthless to anyone out here eating grass and wasting away. As worthless as—”

“Don’t you dare finish that, Mr. Boyer.” Hope burst in, unable to contain her anger a second longer. She stood at the entrance to the room, anger pulsing through her. After letting go of the column beneath her fingers, she moved forward and down the two steps into the sitting area.

“What kind of man are you to come here and purposely demoralize Jeff just to get your way? Talk about selfish. Mr. March is not for sale. Take your poison personality and get out. Jeff doesn’t need you coming around to make him feel worse.”

“On what authority are you telling me to leave?” Reginald Boyer asked, his back stiff, his tone pompous and superior.

Hope glanced at Jeff for the first time. His handsome face looked haggard, and his beautifully sculpted jaw and chin were covered by a scraggly beard that had to represent weeks of growth. He stared straight ahead, his eyes clearly seeing nothing but his own thoughts—and those were obviously dark ones. Hope wasn’t sure he even knew she was there. He was a remnant of his former self. And it was all her fault.

She looked away, the sight too painful to deal with just then. Instead she turned her attention to Jeff’s former coach. “On the authority of someone who cares about Jeff. On the authority of someone who loves him and won’t allow you to destroy what’s left of him. He certainly isn’t protesting my interference, is he?”

Boyer shook his shoulders as if straightening his jacket but said nothing, so Hope continued. “Jeff doesn’t deserve to have you come here and try to take away the last of his pride and hope. He’ll ride Mr. March again and he can’t do that if the horse is gone. Go find your new rising star his own mount. He can’t have Jeff’s.”

Boyer gave her a cold-eyed stare and tried to walk closer to where Jeff sat. But Hope had given ground for the last time where Jeff’s best interests were concerned. She should never have stayed away. She boldly stepped to the side and blocked Boyer’s way.

She stared into his cold black eyes. “I asked you to leave,” she said, her voice as cold as her temper was hot. “Get out before I call Cole to come throw you out.”

“I do not like to be threatened, Ms. Taggert.”

Hope smiled coolly. “I’m appalled that you think I’d threaten you. I was actually making you a promise. Mrs. Roberts, will you see the gentleman out? Good day, Mr. Boyer.”

Boyer stared at her for several long moments, and Hope stared right back. Only when he’d turned away and stomped out did Hope approach Jeff. She prayed for the wisdom and words to reach him.

“Jeff, why would you let him talk to you that way?” she demanded, sitting in a chair near him.

He blinked then looked at her, but his eyes took on no more life than when he’d been staring at nothing. “Ever hear the expression about not shooting the messenger?” he asked, his tone as flat as when he’d spoken to Boyer. “I couldn’t very well refute what he said. Or what he was about to say. I
am
worthless, after all.”

“That isn’t true!”

“To Mr. March I am. I want you to take him to Laurel Glen. Bring over a boarding agreement.”

“Jeff, why? You have exercise boys and stable hands, too.”

“Because I don’t want to see him out there standing around bored or pacing like a nervous chicken. It’ll ruin him.”

“You’re giving up. You worked so hard to get on the Olympic team. And to develop a name in breeding. Why can’t you work as hard to get back on your feet again?”

“Been there. Done that,” he said flippantly. “Do me a favor before you go, get me a beer.”

Hope stood and fisted her hands on her hips. “No. I will not get you a beer. What on earth are you doing to yourself? You don’t drink. I’ve always respected that you took that stand about alcohol after your parents were killed by that drunk driver.”

“Come on, Hope. I’m not exactly driving these days, am I? Unless…do you want to count the chair?” His grin was insolent as he pushed the control switch on the chair forward and came at her—full throttle. Hope was momentarily stunned and pivoted just in time to avoid him running in to her. Jeff quickly spun the chair and laughed as he came after her again. It wasn’t a happy sound.

“I’m not playing your game, Jeff Carrington!” she shouted and stomped up the steps. “Come and get me here,” she challenged.

Furious Jeff gave chase and let the chair smack into the bottom step of living room just below Hope’s booted feet. The room spun when he looked at her—a blurred figure in denim and suede. He was thankful he couldn’t see her face clearly. There was only so much a man could take. He didn’t want to see disillusionment on her face even though he was trying to chase her away.

“Why are you here?” he asked and hated the slight slur in his voice. “I told you I don’t want you smothering me. Poor Jeff. Let’s cheer up poor Jeff. Let’s smile for poor Jeff. Let’s lie to poor Jeff if we have to, but we have to keep his spirits up. Here’s a news flash for you, Hope. I don’t want your sympathy, your patience or your fake smile. I don’t need smothering! I want to be left alone.”

For just a moment her face came into focus and she smiled a real true smile. For just a moment he felt a shred of happiness.

“You’re right,” she said. “You don’t need smothering, and I’m sorry if that’s all you felt from me. I’m going to give you what you say you need. I’ll be back with that agreement.”

He frowned and watched her go. “That was too easy,” he told Mrs. Roberts. “Much too easy.”

“You should be careful or you might find out that you’ve managed to send away all the best people in your life.”

He stared at the older woman with the round figure and graying hair. He didn’t think she’d changed a bit in all the years she’d been with him. “Get me a beer, will you?”

Mrs. Roberts frowned. “Please don’t make me feed my boy that mind poison.”

“I’ll get Billy to handle it for me.” Jeff laughed. “Mind poison? Where do you get this stuff? No wonder I keep you around. You’re a regular laugh riot, Mrs. R.”

“You keep me around because no one else loves you the way I do. You remember that when you’re calling yourself worthless and useless. You’re my sweetheart. Have been ever since the day you toddled into my kitchen looking for cookies. You remember that!” she ordered.

Jeff grimaced. Everyone who opened their mouth near him today reminded him. “I can’t toddle anymore, Mrs. R.”

“It wasn’t the toddling that won my heart. It was that smile. I’m off to get a start on dinner. Be good.”

She smiled that gentle smile of hers and went off to do what he paid her to do. Jeff found himself fighting tears. He’d always wished she was family and not paid to be with him. Growing up, his greatest fear was that she would leave him. She was all he had left.

Hope knew she had to do something. What Jeff said was true. She hadn’t responded to any of his barbs as she normally would, and she’d done it right from the first. She and Cole had left when Jeff had asked rather than risk upsetting him the evening of the accident. She should have stood her ground and dared him to do his worst. She knew what she’d done wrong but hadn’t a clue how to fix it.

She pulled the Jeep next to the barn where she kept her office. She longed for the warmth of the rich old knotty pine paneling and the smell of the wood fire simmering in the cast-iron stove in the corner. She wanted to hide. To curl up on the worn hunter-green leather sofa with a warm woolen blanket and just let the atmosphere chase away the chill of Jeff’s marble edifice.

Entering, she found her brother on the phone behind her desk. He looked up and quickly got off the phone.

“So how was it?” he asked. “Dad was bouncing off the walls because you went over there. I gather you had quite a confrontation.”

Hope tried to choke back the tears that had been threatening since she saw Jeff’s dissipated condition. “He looks awful. Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, and then she lost it. She felt her face crumple along with her composure. Cole was at her side in seconds, and she was soaking his shirt just as quickly.

“Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, then tightened his hold on her and let her cry.

“I knew no good would come of her going over there,” Ross growled from the doorway. “I told her he’d only hurt her.”

Nothing had ever stopped Hope’s tears faster than anger. She pushed out of Cole’s embrace and rounded on her father. “He didn’t do anything to hurt me. It’s the way he is that hurts. That and knowing I did it to him. You’re so wrapped up in your little prejudices that you can’t see the truth. This was all my fault. I feel responsible. I
am
responsible. And I have to help him.”

“Hope, you can’t make Jeff care,” Cole said. “I’ve talked till I’m blue in the face, but he won’t listen.”

“Have you tried to
make
him listen?”

Cole held out his hands helplessly. “What do you want me to do? Scream at a man in a wheelchair?”

She could hear Jeff’s words.
I don’t need smothering.
“Maybe,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s what he needs.”

“What he needs,” Ross said, as if Hope hadn’t spoken, “is a good swift kick.”

“Exactly, Daddy,” Hope said with a sudden smile. “And I’m going to figure out how to give it to him.”

“I’ve had it. I want you to stay away from him!” Ross ordered.

“I told you earlier.” She paused and glared at her father. “What I do with my life is my business. I refuse to let you tell me who I can and who I can’t care for. This is
my
decision. My life. And I’m going to do what I have to do to wake Jeff up to the possibilities that are still open to him.”

“You’re a fool!” Ross shouted, stalking away.

The room fell silent, and Hope stared through the glass between her office and the rest of the barn, wondering what she could do.

“That went well,” Cole quipped as he leaned against the desk, his hands negligently stuffed in the front pockets of his khakis. He shook his head. “I can’t believe I thought you let him run your life. I was so jealous of your relationship with him. And now I find out that you two really go at it.”

Hope arched one eyebrow. “Yes, but unlike you, I’ve learned to pick my battles. And this is one of those issues I can’t back down on.”

“So what are you up to?” Cole asked. “I remember that look.”

Hope shook her head. “I don’t know yet. Jeff wants to board Mr. March here, so I have to go over to Lavender Hill with an agreement.”

“Why is March coming here?”

Walking to the filing cabinet, Hope thought of all she’d learned today. “Because Jeff doesn’t want to look at him. Besides, since Jeff’s fired anyone who’d care if he got better, no animal is really safe there. I imagine you’ve seen the crew he’s hired as replacements. Mrs. Roberts probably has to count the silver after any of them are in the house, and today one of the mares wandered as far as the back terrace.”

As Hope looked for the standard boarding agreement, she noticed a power of attorney that she often had clients sign if they were leaving on a trip. If anything happened to a horse, Laurel Glen needed to be able to act as agent of the owners to get treatment.