Kentucky Home (17 page)

Mal pulled into the visitor's parking lot. Katie was out of the car before she even put it in park. Mal had to jog to keep up with her, blinking her eyes against the setting sun. Mal was feeling emotionally drained, exhausted from her decision to leave and then propping Katie up after she got the phone call. She had seen Katie's severe moods before, her hot temper and her boisterous laughter, but it scared her to see Katie so destroyed. It had taken Mal a few minutes to get the whole story, but as soon as she heard “Dad” and “hospital,” Mal grabbed the car keys. A railway employee had witnessed the scene and brought her bag down to the car. Mal got directions to the hospital and drove.

Katie was obviously not thinking clearly because she walked through the double sliding electric doors of the hospital, then just stood there blinking in the fluorescent light. “Where do I go?” she asked, panic in her voice.

“I'll find out,” Mal said, taking Katie's hand and leading her to the reception desk.

They were directed to intensive care. Mal had enough experience with hospitals to know where the waiting room would be, and that they would get no answers before they got there. No use beating up the receptionist, as Katie seemed inclined to do. She squeezed Katie's hand. “Let's find your family.”

Katie grunted in acknowledgement, but she held on to Mal's hand for dear life, her palms sweating.

They walked into the waiting room. There were a few other families there, looking up hopefully, then quickly back down to reexamine months-old magazines when they saw Mal and Katie weren't there for them. Chase came over and wrapped Katie in a hug, whispering in her ear as she broke down.

Mal looked away, wanting to give them space. She headed toward Luke and Miss Libby, who held out her hand to Mal. “Thank God you're here,” she said. Mal thought that was a funny thing to say; she'd just brought Katie. She didn't belong here.

“How is Cal?”

“The doctor said he's fine, resting. We haven't been able to see him yet. Keith's talking to the doctor now.”

As if on cue, Keith walked around the corner and immediately met her eye. He stopped, looking confused. “Mal,” he said, dumbly.

“I brought Katie.”

Keith looked over at Katie and Chase coming toward him, Chase's arm tight around Katie's shoulders. She untangled herself and Keith gave her an only slightly awkward hug. Keith put a hand on the back of Luke's neck. “He's been asking for you.”

“Shit, Keith, what happened?”

“Heart attack.”

Miss Libby paled and grabbed Mal's hand.

“He's fine,” Keith said to Miss Libby. “I mean, he's not fine, he had a heart attack. He's recovering. I was able to see him. Libby, don't worry, he's definitely waking up.”

“How mean was he?”

“Tired and weak, but mean as a snake.”

“Oh, thank God!” She broke down in relieved tears.

The Carsons stood around uncomfortably, not knowing how to comfort Libby—the tables were usually turned and she was the one comforting.

“I just kept thinking about how we fought, and how those could not be the last words we ever said to each other.”

“Well, you can go in and see him now and say whatever you want to him.”

Miss Libby stood. “Good. I'm going to kill him.”

 

 

After a long, long night, Cal passed the critical phase. As the sun started to rise, he was out of the woods. The doctors wanted to keep him at least one more day for tests and observation, but since the ward limited visitors to two at a time, the Carsons decided to split up. Luke came and took Miss Libby's hand. She patted his cheek affectionately, and she and Katie walked back to the waiting room.

“I don't want to go yet,” Luke said to Keith.

“I'll go back and check on things at home.”

“Come on, Luke, I'll buy you breakfast and bring you back,” Chase said.

Keith and Mal stood alone in the hallway. Keith seemed to be staring a hole through her.

“Um, I guess I'll go,” she said, avoiding his eyes. She didn't know where she would go, but she couldn't really stay here.

“Thank you for coming.”

“I just drove Katie.”

“You really helped, Mal. Libby was glad to see you.”

“Well, I know hospitals.” She gave a weak laugh.

“Right.”

They stood, staring like dopes. Mal found, now that she was back, she didn't want to go again.

“Mal?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you were planning on . . .”

“Getting divorced?”

“Yeah,” Keith rubbed his neck. “And, of course, I want you to do that. I mean, I want you to do what you need to do. But . . .”

“What, Keith?”

“I hate to ask you this.”

“Ask, Keith.”

“We could really use you. If you can stay.”

Mal sighed. “I can stay.”

They didn't have much conversation on the way home. Keith drove. Mal contented herself watching the scenery go by, again. Winter was coming fast, and the trees were losing their leaves. It still looked beautiful to her.

Keith parked in front of the bunkhouse, and Peanut came charging out to the truck. He pounced on Mal when she opened the door, tail wagging maniacally. “Hey, boy, did you miss me?” Mal asked, rubbing his ears. Peanut jumped up on her chest and, as usual, Mal wasn't ready and she landed on her butt in the dirt.

Mal laughed and accepted Keith's hand up. “Well, at least someone's glad to see me.”

Keith looked at her. “You think I'm not glad to see you?”

“No, Keith. That's not what I meant—”

“Do you really think you mean nothing to me?”

“No.”
Yes,
Mal thought. “No, of course not.”

“What kind of person does it make me that I feel grateful my dad just had a heart attack because it brought you back to me?”

Mal gasped. “I had no idea. Keith—”

“Forget it,” he turned to go into the barn.

“No! Keith, I won't—” She grabbed his arm and pulled him to her. He was on her in an instant, his mouth hot and insistent.

Mal put her hands on his chest to push away, to slow him down, step back, talk about it. But then his lips descended on hers again, and she felt that comfortable warm pressure of his lips, growing less comfortable and more insistent as he teased her mouth open, tasting her with his tongue.

She forgot what she was supposed to talk to him about. Was it something about slowing down? Surely she didn't have any reason to slow this down.

“Mal,” Keith said, coming up for air, then leaving slow, urgent kisses down her neck, walking her into the barn. “I want you.”

 

 

“Yes,” she whispered. His head shot up, his eyes locking with hers. Suddenly, he tightened his grip around her waist and hoisted her up. She gasped as the air was squeezed out of her, but she wrapped her legs around his waist, finding a secure mooring there, not to mention creating a delicious tension against his crotch. He started walking, slowly and with some difficulty, toward the couch in the small living area. As he kicked the door closed behind him, he vaguely heard Peanut's mournful whimper outside the door, but he didn't care. Mal was clinging to his neck, her gorgeous thighs wrapped around his waist, and she was kissing him back with as much ferocity as he was kissing her.

He was so caught up in their battle of tongues that he missed the little coffee table he had set up in his half-assed attempt at decorating, and he tumbled onto the couch. He caught himself before he landed on Mal, and she lay there, a bit dazed by the hard landing.

“Sorry, dammit, sorry. Are you OK?”

“I think being around you is bad for my health. I seem to keep getting injured.”

“Oh, God, I'm sorry, are you hurt? Show me where it hurts.”

She pushed him back so he was sitting next to her on the couch, then she swung one leg up and straddled him. She put a finger on her neck, right at her pulse point.

“Here.”

He placed a kiss there, licking her pulse a little.

“Here,” she said, unbuttoning the top button of her blouse, pointing to the cleft between her breasts. He kissed her there.

“Here?” he asked as she unbuttoned her shirt farther, cupping her breasts through the lace of her bra.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, her eyes bright. “Both sides.”

He gave equal attention to each breast, pulling at the nipple through the lace of her bra, then, when she unhooked the front clasp, he tasted each one straight on. He urged her closer to him and she complied, wiggling her hips against him in pleasure.

“Mal,” he warned, a little breathless.

“I want you, too.” She looked into his eyes, and his heart constricted. This was the first time she'd admitted that she wanted him, the first time she'd said it out loud. God, he thought. He really did love this woman.

She reached between them and undid the fastenings to her jeans. He thought that was a great idea, so he did the same for his own. He eased her jeans down over her hips, stopping at her knees. The action caught her off-balance and she tipped forward. He took advantage of the close proximity of her beautiful breasts to take another taste. “So sweet,” he murmured.

She reached for him, gently pulling his hard length out of his jeans. He lifted his hips up so she could move his jeans down a little. Then she took him in hand, firmly stroking him from root to tip. He reached around behind her, his rough hands running over her smooth skin, and he found her center, wet and ready for him. He inserted one finger, then two. She gasped and wiggled on him a little more, tightening her grip on his cock.

He removed his hand and she sighed. Then he reached up to cup her neck, urging her forward for a deep soul kiss. She responded in kind, their tongues hungry and clashing, and she inched forward on his lap. He positioned himself at her entrance, then broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. She placed her hands on either side of his head, stroking his hair. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a condom. She looked as if she wanted to ask why he had it there, but stopped as she took it from him, rolled it down. She bit her lower lip as he started to enter her, letting her head fall back as he entered her fully. He kissed the creamy expanse of her neck; she really was sweet. They both started to move, he thrust up, she moaned in pleasure, then rocked her hips forward as much as she could, constrained as she was by her jeans around her knees. They found their rhythm quickly, as if they were old hat and not new, frenzied lovers. He tightened his arms around her waist and buried his face in her breasts. She tugged at his hair, first pulling his face closer to her breasts, then pulling him up for a kiss. He wanted to kiss her and kiss her, to kiss her while she came. She was frantic in her rhythm, trying to move faster, rocking her hips harder. He tilted his hips up, receiving a shocked moan for the new spot he was hitting, then worked a hand between their bodies. He stroked her as they rocked, and she broke the kiss, screaming his name as they shuddered together.

She collapsed on top of him, her arms around his neck. He inhaled her sweet scent, satisfied, and rubbed his hands up and down her back, not ready to stop touching her yet. When he moved up to her neck, she sighed as he kneaded the muscles there.

“You're tense.”

“I know,” she said into his shoulder. He kissed her neck and tried to nudge her head up, but she burrowed farther into his neck, tightening her thighs around his waist. “Not yet! I'm not ready yet.”

He let her sit there on his lap, holding him with her whole body, until she was ready.

Finally she moved a little, without fully getting up. “OK, my legs are starting to cramp.” He gently withdrew himself from her, lifting her off his lap. She righted her clothes and watched as he did the same.

She looked a little lost, so he pulled her back down to the couch, next to him this time, and put his arm around her shoulder. She sighed, wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder.

“What am I going to do with you, Mal?” he said, stroking her hair gently back from her face.

“Well, what you just did was pretty nice.”

“Pretty nice?”

“Mind blowing!” she said, laughing.

He continued to stroke her hair. “I'm falling in love with you.” He felt her tense up. He tilted her chin so he was looking in her eyes. “We'll talk about it later. We have work to do.”

 

 

They spent the afternoon working, sometimes separately, sometimes together. Keith gave her projects to do in the barn and she spent a few exhausting hours mucking, brushing horses, cleaning tack. Keith called the hospital, but nobody was ready to leave. Cal was awake and recovering, but would have to stay one more night. Mal raided Libby's kitchen and put together sandwiches and pasta salad and Keith drove it over to the hospital. Mal enjoyed playing house (and, truthfully, enjoyed having free rein in the usually forbidden kitchen), so she pulled bits and pieces together and made a casserole for dinner. She always felt hopeless in the kitchen with Michael—nothing she cooked seemed to turn out right—but she liked the idea of feeding Keith. When they sat down to eat, she was not disappointed. He scarfed down three big servings, and a large bowl of the ice cream he had brought home for dessert. Later, he showed his appreciation for her culinary care by lighting a fire in the bunkhouse's fireplace. Then he sat her down and rubbed her shoulders until she was drowsy with fatigue and relaxation. He led her to the bedroom and peeled off their clothes. As soon as he lay down with her, though, his own exhaustion hit. He pulled her close, and fell asleep.

 

 

Mal watched Keith sleep for a while. He was not a particularly cute sleeper—he had an iron grip around her shoulders, and his head was thrown back with his mouth open. She was surprised at how quiet his snoring was. He was so surprising. He was falling in love with her, he had said. Was that what she was feeling? Was that why her heart sped up when she looked at him? Why she had this need to take care of him? Why she wanted to lay everything bare, let him see all of her? Was that because he loved her, or because she loved him?

She wriggled out from under his arm. Keith moaned and rolled over, but he let her go. She pulled on his flannel shirt, loving how it came halfway down her thighs. He really was a big guy. But she had more important things to do than moon over Keith, so she slipped on her boots and tiptoed out to the office.

While Keith went to the hospital, she had called Michael to let him know that she hadn't made her train. He hadn't picked up, so she'd left him a message. She was a little surprised that she hadn't heard from him—Michael was not great when he didn't get his way, nor was he great at thinking before he acted. She spent the evening expecting the phone to ring. But, no. Well, if this was a power trip to make her stew, it was working. She wanted a divorce; she needed closure more than ever. This new confession of Keith's gave the divorce an urgency she hadn't felt before. She had wanted to be done with Michael so she could move on. But now she was starting to feel a direction she wanted to go in, and she was anxious to get started.

It was late, but Michael worked irregular hospital hours. At least she thought he did; now she wasn't sure how many of those late nights were really spent romancing other doctors' wives. That didn't matter anymore; she was done feeling rejected by Michael. But she did hope that he was still going home after work.

She dialed, then released the breath she didn't realize she was holding when the answering machine picked up. “Hi, Michael. It's Mallory. I hope you got my earlier message about missing the train. I'm not sure when I'm going to be able to make it out there, but I do want to sign those papers. Give me a call at this number. I should be around tomorrow.” She thought about how Michael must have reacted when she hadn't responded to his summons to return to DC. “Thanks so much for being patient with me. I know you're busy.” She sighed. Did that sound as fake as it felt? “OK, talk to you tomorrow.”

She hung up and looked around the office. It really was a mess in here. The file cabinet was more stacked than filed. She shuffled a few of the piles on the desk, trying to make sense of them. Usually, even in a mess, she could find the system—pending bills, invoices to mail, purchase orders. This—there was no order she could see. It was driving her crazy, and, conveniently, shuffling papers would be a good distraction from thinking about Michael. Keith wouldn't mind, would he?

She picked up a pile of invoices to sort them by date, but as she lifted them, she knocked over the massive pile of papers underneath. “Damn,” she said, and bent down to gather them up.

“This is the weirdest sex dream I've ever had in my life.”

Mal squeaked and jumped up. Keith was standing behind her in his jeans and his unlaced boots. His hair was ruffled and he had a pillow mark on his cheek.

“What?”

“This must be a dream. Why else would you be practically naked in my office?”

“I couldn't sleep.”

“So you thought you would organize?”

“It relaxes me.”

“I know.” He came over to her and put his hands on her waist.

“You are very strange.”

She wrapped her arms around his back as his mouth came down on her neck. “You need to know that about me if I'm going to stay.”

“You'll stay?”

“I want to. I can't get hold of Michael, but as soon as I do, I'll be a free woman.”

Keith sat down on the desk chair. “I'm glad.”

“Good,” she said, approaching him.

He held up a hand. “Mal, I need to know what happened.”

She wanted to pretend that she didn't know what he was talking about. She wanted to live the rest of her life never having to tell anyone about the humiliating night when she'd let her husband smack her around.

She fingered the new bruise under her eye, already fading.

“Please,” Keith said, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees.

She looked at him, at the warm green of his eyes, the firm set of his jaw. If this was going to work, he had to know all of her.

“It only happened once,” she started. Keith clasped his hands together in front of him, his knuckles white. “We had been separated for a while. Not very long yet; I was still living with him. I was delusional enough to think that was just temporary until I could find a place.”