When You Fall... (7 page)

She sighed again and headed back inside.

#

Saturday evening.

Carter looked around the kitchen, impressed with her efforts. After taking care of the horse with no name, she’d driven into town and purchased some cleaning supplies, feed, miscellaneous supplies for the horse and finally, a basic supply of food for herself.

The afternoon had been one continuous pickup of trash, magazines and mail. She’d sorted the magazines into stacks on the back porch, along with Jack’s mail, ending up with three hip-high piles. She needed to go through the mail for some signs of where trifling Jack might have taken off to, but that was a tomorrow or the day-after job.

She surveyed the kitchen again, and marveled at the cleanliness of it, finally. She brewed another pot of coffee, poured herself a cup and went out onto the back porch. She glanced over and saw Rafael. She lifted her hand to wave, but caught herself mid-wave and stopped. He stood there for a second as if considering what to do now that they’d seen each other.

Having come to a decision she guessed, she watched as he walked out his drive, crossed the street, hopped her fence and was making his way to her back porch. She looked around at the stack of magazines, thought for a second about covering them up, but then thought screw
him and what he thought anyway
.

“So this morning wasn’t enough? You thought I might need more of your charming personality,” she said when he was within earshot. She stood in the doorway, screen door open, arms crossed at her chest, coffee cup in hand, staring at his approach.

“Actually, I’m here for my hat and my bat. Lost them both in the one-sided scuffle with you Friday night,” he said with that smug smile. She was beginning to dislike it intensely.

“I found them. Thought about throwing them away, but then decided against it. I heard that fighters or was it hunters like to keep track of their kills with tokens. Wasn’t sure you would want any reminders of your beat down,” she said, her smile all sweetness.

He laughed. “And here I’d thought to apologize for my earlier comments. They were borderline rude, but maybe not now.”

“Borderline?”

“Borderline,” he said.

“You were rude,” she said, looking him over from her perch above him on the steps. “I accept your apology and if you’ll wait here, I’ll bring your hat and bat out to you.”

“Why thank you,” he said, again with that smug smile.

He watched her as she walked away.
Nice body
, he thought again. She liked her shorts short, and now that he’d looked his fill, so did he. He walked up the back steps, opened the back door and stepped inside the porch. It was homey, maybe even cozy. There was a small couch that had seen better days, flanked by a coffee and side table. There was a light overhead, but it wasn’t very bright. It created a nice atmosphere if you wanted to take advantage of a willing woman.

He glanced over the mini mountain of mail in a pile on the floor, next to the couch, along with three tall stacks of magazines.

He picked up one from its perch on top of the nearest stack.
Penthouse
, the cover read. He flipped through the pages.
Not bad
, he thought. He set it down and picked up another.

“Jack preferred his women naked and their print layouts glossy, and come on in, while you’re at it. Make yourself at home. Want to have a seat? Take your time and browse at, what I bet, is some of your favorite reading material,” she said, a smirk covered her face, interrupting his perusal. He smiled at her, all white teeth and very, very pretty. He didn’t seem to mind having been caught looking.

“I used to have a fondness for Ms. October when I was younger. She became the inspiration for many things. Made my adolescent nights less lonely,” he said, laughing at her expression.

“That wouldn’t surprise me.”

“What are you doing with these?” he asked.

“Found them. All addressed to Jack Shine, along with this mail. I’ve been cleaning up most of the day. Jack made this place his home, didn’t he?” she asked.

“That he did.”

“Didn’t think to tell anyone?” she said.

“It wasn’t my place, or my property.”

“Mighty neighborly of you.”

“Thanks,” he said, but didn’t leave.

“What do I do with them now?”

“Do with what?”

“All this trash,” she said, waving her hand to encompass all of Jack’s junk. “Is there trash pickup here?”

“Not regularly like you’re used to in the city. You have to call a company and have someone leave you a trash can or in your case, you might want to order a dumpster until you finish cleaning up this place. I have the number of one. If you give me something to write on, I’ll write it down for you,” he said.

“Sure,” she said, walking away in her short shorts again. He could just make out the bottom of her buns.
Enough of that Rafe
, he told himself. It was the proximity of the magazines that were having this effect on him.

He pulled out his smart phone, looked up the number, and jotted it down on the slip of paper she’d provided.

“Thanks for your help. Thanks for looking after the horse. You didn’t have to, especially given your opinion of my family. It means a lot that you did,” she said. He could hear the sincerity in her words.

“You’re welcome. How long are you going to be here?” he asked.

“Don’t know… a while.”

“Lost your job I hear,” he said.

“Where did you hear that?” she asked, searching for signs of sarcasm.

He shrugged. Danielle was the person he’d had to thank for his level of knowledge regarding all things Carter. Crazy Carter was Danielle’s new fixation, it seemed.

“I was kind of forced… due to the wedding and all,” she said, her smile stiff, her eyes still holding his.

“Hiding out then?” he asked, smug smile in place.

“No,” she said, more forcibly than she’d intended. “I’m not hiding out.”

“What are you going to do with yourself every day?” he asked, smiling.

“I’m going to finish cleaning up inside, make it somewhat livable, and figure out where Jack has gotten off to. God knows there’s enough work that needs doing around here. We are going to sell it eventually.”

“Who is we?” he asked.

“My family.”

“To sell, huh?” he asked, mulling that over. “Why?”

She shrugged.

“It would be a shame to sell this. It’s a great piece of land.”

“Don’t I know it. Anyway, I was hoping to make some headway in getting ready to sell. Maybe tomorrow I could start by cutting the pastures or maybe I should check the fence line first. Don’t want to imagine what our fencing looks like,” she said, looking around the property. “But if I cut those pastures first, I could turn out our one horse to feed during the day, so maybe that should be my next job. I’ll need to see if the lawnmower works.”

“You might need a tractor. Too big for a lawnmower.”

“The pastures aren’t too big for the lawnmower and I think we have the commercial kind. I know we owned a tractor once. Guess that’s another thing to do, check out the equipment and see what works and what doesn’t.”

“It’s a lot of work if you’re not used to it.”

“Don’t think I’m up for it?” she said, smiling, eyes back on his. “And why am I not surprised that you would think that. Who knows, maybe not. You’re probably right. It has been a while. It is certainly different from accounting, which can be hard work too, but in a different way,” she said, looking at him. “I’m an accountant.”

“You were an accountant. You were fired, remember. For breaking up a wedding,” he said, smiling again. She gave him her middle finger and he laughed. Reluctantly, so did she.

“You are not a nice man,” she said, admiring him, his pretty smile and charcoal-colored hair, falling a little into his eyes. “I am still an accountant. Just an unemployed one.”

He smiled his smug smile again.

“See you around. Try not to kill anyone or pepper spray the horse. Here’s my number if you need anything, because I
am
a good guy,” he said, handing her his card.

“Thanks. I’ll try not to use it,” she said. His laughter joined in with hers. She was pretty, with an intoxicating smile. Who knew that shy and self-deprecating could be an intriguing combination? It had never been before. He blamed it on those magazines as he stood there looking at her for a second or two more.

“My apologies again for my rudeness this morning,” he said.

“Accepted. And here is your hat and your bat,” she said, picking them up from the chair where she had placed them when she’d gone in search of the notepad.

He smiled. “See you around,” he said. He put the hat on his head before he walked back the way he’d come.

She followed his silhouette as he walked away from her, admiring the way his jeans lovingly cupped his body. Too bad she was done with men. She went back to cleaning.

#

Rafael walked back home, chuckling at their exchange. It had been interesting and a little fun, if he was going to be honest about it. She was interesting, and pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way. He went for that kind sometimes, but the flighty and small crazed part that had led to the attempted breakup of a wedding gave him pause.

He didn’t do crazy or flighty, not knowingly anyway, and honestly, someone should tell her that she was starting to be a little too old to be flighty. He was in the market for sturdier stock.

He looked back over his shoulder after he’d gotten home. She was still out on the back porch, bent over something, probably reading Jack’s magazines.

He chuckled again at her response to his words. She tried to push back, thinking she could do the work around here, to get her farm back in shape. Good luck with that. He smiled again. It would be entertaining to watch Crazy Carter at least give it a go.

#

Sunday afternoon

Carter was seated at the kitchen table, having made herself a sandwich. She was doing what she’d been doing since she’d arrived—taking care of the horse, cleaning, and making a list of all that needed doing. It would be one hell of a long list when she was done.

What to do with the list of chores once she was finished making it? She could give it to her father and have him hire another manager. Another option would be for her to remain here and work the list herself—the plan she’d outlined for Rafael the previous night. That option had felt right, and lifted her spirits at the possibilities, in a way she hadn’t felt in too long.

Plus it wasn’t like she had so much waiting for her to get back to, and the thought of looking for a job brought tears to her eyes.

She’d found the bedroom that Jack had commandeered. It was worse than the kitchen, if that was possible. She closed the door. This, she would save for later—much, much later, like next month kind of later. She’d called the company Rafael recommended for trash pick up and left a message, so there was nothing more to do with Jack’s junk—which was still stacked out on the back porch—until Monday at the earliest.

If she was at home, she’d just be getting home from church. Then it would be over to her parents’ house or one of her stepsister’s homes for the big family dinner. It rotated within their family of six girls.

She had yet to host one, because she had yet to have a home, spouse, or family, but her mind moved away from that for a second and over to its other chief occupation.
What the hell Carter—breaking up a wedding. What happened to you? You used to be so different, independent even. Remember when you beat up those little boys that teased you so, because loving horses the way you did, those horse books you carried around with you made you ripe for bullies? Where did that girl get off to?

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of a car pulling around back. She sighed as she caught sight of it, recognizing the late model Mercedes Benz sedan as it came into view. It belonged to her father, Carl and Gloria, his wife, her stepmother. They had driven the same type since she was a little girl. A new model traded in every few years, but it was always the same large conservative style her dad favored. He owned a Mercedes Benz car dealership—several actually—so you would have thought he would have a new one ever year. No, it was all about having wealth, but not looking like wealth defined you, or affected your choices. An older model signified
I’m used to having nice things, but comfortable enough with money to drive last year’s model.

She watched her dad get out and walk around the side to open the door for Gloria, a habit he was proud of. He was the example for how to treat women, such wealth and refinement, and all in one package. Gloria was a perfect match for her dad. He liked them dressed impeccably, as did her stepsisters, as Carter had learned to do. It was part of the Woodson woman creed.

She should go out to meet them, but why hurry. She knew what was coming—disappointment followed by a new set of expectations. She’d learned how to handle that, too. It was best to look contrite and listen. The quieter she was, the sooner said lecture would end and she could be on her way.

She looked over her jeans and t-shirt, wishing she’d dressed better. Oh well, there was nothing she could do about it now. She went to the door, and plastered on a smile.

“Hey Dad, Gloria. What brings you out this way?” She said, opening the door as they both stood in front of her. They looked her over, mouths settling into old familiar lines of displeasure.

“I was out in the barn, checking out a horse, courtesy of our old property manager, who is no longer with us,” she said, offering an explanation for her appearance. She stepped aside so they could enter. Her dad closed the door leading from the back porch, and took Gloria’s elbow, walking the short distance from the back door to the kitchen table.

“What is all this?” her dad asked, as he and Gloria passed the stacks and trash bags full of trash, Carter had left on the back porch.

“Long story,” she said, following them into the kitchen.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Gloria said, looking around at the inside. “I don’t recall it being so neglected.”

“I know. I was shocked, too. You should have seen it before I cleaned it up. The trash you walked through was in here—on the tables… everywhere,” Carter said.