A Cowboy Comes Home

Seven

All the way back from Lyndon, Caleb told himself he had done the right thing by giving Mandy the option to change her mind. It was the honorable thing to do, and he didn’t regret it for one minute. Though he’d desired her beyond reason, he couldn’t ignore the fact that she wasn’t worldly, she was a family friend, and compared to the women he normally dated, she was quite innocent-in a fresh, compelling way that even now had him wishing he could have thrown caution to the wind.

Damn it.

He had to get her out of his head.

He pushed the door to the Terrell ranch house open, forcing himself to walk into the quiet gloom. Without Mandy or Danielle here, the place seemed to echo around him. He dropped the small duffel bag he’d bought in Lyndon onto the floor of the hall, flipped on a light and made his way into the living room.

Ghosts of his memories hovered in every room, in every knickknack, in every piece of furniture. He’d liked it in Lyndon. It had been a long time since he’d worked that hard physically, longer still since he’d had that sense of community and accomplishment.

He wondered what was going on at the Jacobses’ place. He pictured Mandy, imagined her voice, her laughter, her jokes and the convoluted rationale for her contrary opinions. He missed her arguments most of all.

The vision disappeared, and the silence of the house closed in around him. A small, family portrait propped up on the mantel, seemed to mock his presence.

He moved closer, squinting at it.

The picture had been taken when Caleb and Reed were about fifteen. His father had dressed them up, gathered them together in the living room and insisted on wide, happy-looking smiles. Seeing it now, all Caleb could remember was that his father had screamed at Reed earlier that day, pushing him to the ground and demanding he resand an entire section of fence because of some perceived flaw.

He lifted the photo. If he looked closely, he could see that Reed’s hands had been bleeding. Closer, still, and he could see his and Reed’s brittle eyes. His mother had the haunted look that Caleb remembered so vividly. Though he’d pushed the memories away after he’d left, the fear that he hadn’t known the half of his mother’s anguish rushed back now.

If he’d known back then what he knew now, he’d might have taken a shotgun to his father. He should have taken a shotgun to his father. He’d have spent the rest of his life in jail, but his mother would have lived, and his brother would have been spared ten years of hell.

He glared at his father’s expression, the false smile, the ham fists, the mouth that had spewed abuse, sending fear into the hearts of everyone around him.

Caleb’s hand tightened on the frame.

Before the impulse turned into a conscious thought, he reflexively smashed the picture into the stone hearth. Glass shattered in all directions, the wooden frame splintered into three pieces, mangling the photo. He gripped the mantel with both hands, closing his eyes, concentrating on obliterating the memories.

“And you really think selling the place will bring you closure?” Mandy’s voice was soft but implacable from the entryway.

Caleb straightened and squared his shoulders. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“No kidding.”

“I need a shower.” He turned on his heel, heading for the staircase, stripping off his shirt as he crossed the room. He wasn’t fit company right now. And he wasn’t going to let himself take his temper out on Mandy. What he needed was to scald some of his anger away.

Hopefully, when he finished, she’d have the sense to be gone.

He hit the top of the stairs, and pivoted around the corner, tossing his shirt to the ground and reaching for the snap of his jeans. He passed his brother’s room; a shiver ran up his spine. His feet came to a halt, and he stood still for a long moment, gritting his teeth, his fists clenched, a sharp pain pounding through the center of his forehead. He swallowed hard, then kept walking, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

He twisted the taps full on and finished stripping off his grimy clothes. Then he wrestled the shower curtain out of the way and stepped into the deep tub. Under the pulsing spray, he scrubbed his body, shampooed his hair, then he stood there, staring at the familiar tile pattern until the water finally turned cold.

He turned the taps to Off, and the nozzle dripped to a stop while he valiantly tried to stuff his memories back into their box. He was beginning to realize he never should have come here.

There was a tentative rap on the bathroom door. “Caleb? You okay?”

He flung the curtain aside in frustration. “Go home, Mandy.”

There was silence on the other side.

“I mean it,” he shouted. The gentleman in him was exhausted, and he didn’t have the fight left to keep his hands off her. She needed to get far away.

“Right,” came a short, angry response. It was followed by a few footfalls and then silence.

Thank goodness.

He methodically toweled off, then rubbed a circle in the steam of the mirror. Once again, he borrowed his brother’s shaving gear, telling himself that getting cleaned up, eating a decent meal and getting a good night’s sleep would give him some perspective. The memories were from ten years ago, not from yesterday. It would be easier to get rid of them this time.

Finished shaving, he wiped his face and tossed the towel into the hamper in the corner of the bathroom. Naked, he turned and opened the door, and found Mandy sitting cross-legged on the floor across the hall.

He barked out a pithy swearword, while she quickly turned her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

“I didn’t want to leave,” she squeaked, coming to her feet, face turned to the side, eyes still squeezed shut. “You seemed really upset downstairs.”

“And you couldn’t have foreseen this? ” He wrapped a towel tightly around his waist, stuffing in the loose end.

“At our house, we don’t… I mean, there are six of us living there.”

“Well, there’s nobody else living here.” There was no need for him to cover up to cross the hall.

“Sorry.”

Her contrite voice took the fight right out of him. It wasn’t her fault. What the hell was the matter with him, anyway?

“Don’t worry about it.” Truth be told, he was more sorry about giving her an eyeful than he was about being seen naked. He couldn’t care less about that.

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” he offered.

She opened one eye and cautiously peeked back at him.

He propped his bare shoulder against the doorjamb and folded his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here, Mandy?”

“We haven’t had a chance to talk. You know, alone. Since…”

“Since you turned me down that morning in Lyndon?” It had been the topmost thing on his mind, too.

Her brows went up. “You mean, since you turned me down.”

That sure as hell wasn’t the way he remembered it. “You were the one who said you preferred breakfast.”

“You were the one who said I should think about it.”

“So?”

Her voice rose. “So, who tells a girl who’s kissing him back to think about it? ”

“Someone who’s a gentleman and not a frat boy.”