Chapter Sixteen
“You’re handcuffing me to you?”
Jake grinned proudly. “Yep.”
“This better be something kinky.”
He rolled away, and the bracelet pulled at my arm. “If you think sleeping is kinky, then you’re on the right track.”
Between the drunken bar brawl and the guilt over the phone call to Gina, I didn’t have it in me to argue. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Damn straight.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “But maybe tomorrow night, I’ll throw you a bone.”
“Big of you.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I thought you’d like that.”
I shot him a look of disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re scheduling sex with me. What are we, fifty years old?”
“I’m not scheduling. It’s more like I’m telling you what’s going to happen. God knows it hasn’t worked out in our favor the way we’ve been doing it. Tomorrow, we’re going to try it my way.”
“No thanks,” I grumbled, declaring a Mexican standoff. “You’ve lost your chance.”
“We’ll see.” The corners of his mouth crinkled slightly. “You can consider it a late birthday present.”
“Wow. You’re really full of yourself. Don’t light a candle you don’t intend to blow out.”
“It’ll be win-win, I promise. Now quit acting like it’s going to be as bad as getting a tooth pulled and go to bed.”
“I hope I piss on you in my sleep.”
“Now that’s kinky,” he noted with a chuckle.
…
It was the worst night of sleep I’d ever had. The handcuff dug into my wrist, making it sore, and at some point during the night, the sound of a rainstorm began slamming into the roof. Lightning crackled through the sky, brightening the room, and thunder roared in my ears. It was like sleeping in a drum while someone beat on the outside. It didn’t stop until close to dawn, which is when I finally drifted off.
When I woke up, the handcuff still dangled from my wrist, but Jake wasn’t attached. Thank God he hadn’t hooked it to the bed frame. Otherwise, I would’ve peed myself waiting for him to come back. I wanted to go back to bed, but the stale scent of alcohol on my breath made me sick. I brushed my teeth and my hair, dressed in khaki shorts and a pink, stretchy tank top, and hurried over to the main house. I hoped I wasn’t too late for breakfast, but wasn’t sure how it would fare on my stomach.
Floss stood over a skillet, flipping pancakes and frying pork sausage patties. Hank and Jake sipped coffee at the kitchen table with newspapers in front of their faces. Only Hank and Floss looked up as I entered.
“Good morning,” she said. “Hungry? I’ve got a new batch of pancakes nearly ready and homemade blackberry syrup on the table.”
“Sure, that’d be great,” I replied. “Can I help you do anything?”
She eyeballed the handcuffs still attached to my wrist and smiled. “You can sit your hind end in a chair and eat some breakfast, that’s what you can do.”
I did as I was told, pulling up a chair next to Jake. He folded the newspaper up and set it on the table. His eye had completely swelled shut and the side of his face looked like someone had taken a tire iron to it.
He pointed to the cuffs. “Want me to take those off?”
“Definitely,” I said, holding up my wrist as he pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked them. “Does your eye hurt?”
“My whole face hurts.”
Hank glanced over at me from behind his newspaper. “Must’ve been some fight last night.”
I leaned over, lightly touching the ugly purplish bruise on Jake’s cheek, making him wince. “I’m sorry. I know it’s my fault, but I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”
Jake’s good eye widened slightly. At first, I figured it was because he never thought he’d get an apology out of me, but then Hank spoke. “How was it your fault?”
“Didn’t he tell you I caused the fight?”
“Jake told us he protected you from that little bastard, Jeremy.”
“That’s partially true,” I said, looking back at Jake. “But there’s more to it.”
Jake touched my arm. “Emily, you don’t have to—”
“No, it’s okay.” It was time I took responsibility for my own actions. I turned back toward Hank and let out a small sigh. “I flirted with Jeremy to make Jake jealous. It’s why the fight broke out to begin with. It shouldn’t have happened, and I feel terrible it went so far.”
“Of course you do, dear,” Floss said, bringing me a plate of food. “Now eat up. Don’t let those pancakes get cold.”
Hank returned to reading his paper.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, what more is there?” Floss asked.
Hank peered around his newspaper at me. “Everyone makes mistakes, honey. But if it will make you feel better, I could take you out back, throw you over the fence, and let the buzzards eat you. I don’t know what good it’ll do, though.” Hank laughed at himself. “Now finish your breakfast.”
Floss broke in again. “By the way, Hank, I found my cell phone. I guess I’d left it in the truck yesterday when I went into town.”
“Good,” he murmured, his nose buried in his newspaper. “I didn’t want to have to buy another one.”
Instantly, I remembered the phone call I’d placed to Gina. It was dreamlike. I couldn’t believe I did something so dumb. Then again, we were talking about me. My biggest fear was that I’d put Gina and Dale in danger with my phone call, all because I wanted to hear her voice. I couldn’t berate myself enough.
“You look hung over,” Jake said. “You need caffeine.”
Still thinking about the phone call I’d made, I snapped at him. “Why? So I can do stupid things faster?” I caught myself, realizing Jake didn’t know what I’d done. He couldn’t read my mind. “I’m sorry. I…I had a rough night.”
Jesus. I’m going to have to tell him the truth. Damn, he’s going to think what I already know. I’m a freaking moron.
“Jake, I need to talk to you about—”
“Anybody home?” Cowboy yelled from the front room.
“In the kitchen,” Floss yelled back.
When he walked in, I gaped in horror and covered my mouth. Swollen to twice its normal size, Cowboy’s slightly crooked nose had a gash over it. The bruising around it looked painful.
“Oh God. I’m sorry about your nose.”
He shrugged it off and winked. “Ah, I was too pretty, anyway.”
“Is it broken?”
“Usually what happens when you get hit in the face with a beer bottle. It still works, though. That’s all that matters.” He leaned over Floss’s shoulder. “That smells great.”
“Sit on down, and I’ll fix you up a plate,” Floss said, slapping his hand as he reached for a piece of sausage. “And keep your filthy hands out of the food. Ain’t no telling where those things have been. I’ve heard all the rumors.”
“All lies,” Cowboy said with a smug grin. Jake and I scooted around the table to make room for him. As he sat in the chair next to me, Cowboy snickered. “You guys should see Ox and Judd.”
“How’d they fare?” Jake asked.
“Judd has two black eyes and a busted lip, but, as usual, Ox doesn’t have a mark on him. He’s a scrappy little thing, too quick for anyone to get ahold of. I told him the next time we all get into a fight, I’m going to hold him down and let someone beat the hell out of him. That way he’ll match the rest of us.”
“Well, at least one person escaped unharmed,” I told them. They both looked at me like I was stupid. “Okay, I meant someone besides me.”
…
After breakfast, the boys tended to something in the barn for Hank. I helped Floss feed the animals. The horses were fed first, since they impatiently trotted up and down the fence line, snorting and stamping their feet on the soggy ground. It was the equivalent of beating utensils on a table and chanting, “We want food.”
The rabbits were almost as demanding. Jack climbed the wire with his front paws while Twitcher ran in circles, growling, as I neared their cage with pellets. At least the birds would wait until I placed the newly replenished feeder down and walked away before they attacked it.
When Floss added a scoop of kibble to Dog’s bowl, then poured greasy leftovers and raw fat on top, I cringed with disgust. Since he was not around, I imagined the only things that’d be eating out of that bowl were ants. At least I finally figured out how Dog died. A diet like that would kill anybody.
Once we were done, I watched Floss fill a small wire cage with a dozen baby guineas a man ordered earlier in the morning. It was almost noon before he arrived to pick them up. While Floss handled the transaction, I strolled over to the pigeon pen. I watched them strut back and forth, flapping their delicate wings as they cooed to me. It’s where Floss found me.
“You like homing pigeons?” she asked.
“I like listening to them. It’s soothing. Makes me want to fall asleep.”
“Jake reminds me of a pigeon sometimes,” she said.
I looked at her strangely, but didn’t say anything. Jake definitely didn’t make me want to fall asleep. I wouldn’t have minded hearing him coo soft words in my ear, though.
The birds pecked at the ground, bobbing their heads as they walked. Floss was mesmerized by them. “Jake always finds his way home,” she said. “Even if it does take him awhile.”
Her eyes were watery. She sniffled, pulled a tissue from the pocket of her sundress, and wiped her nose. Not only did she love Jake, but she admired and respected him. He was the son she’d never had. Not wanting to embarrass her, I didn’t linger on the emotion welling up in her voice.
“I’d never spent time on a farm before now, but there’s no better way to relax than being outdoors,” I told her.
“Want to take a little field trip with me?” Floss asked. “I’m going to pick some wild blackberries. I could use an extra hand.”
“Sure…well, if Jake will let me. But he’ll probably handcuff me to you.”
She grinned. “He’s a rotten scoundrel sometimes, isn’t he?”
We found Hank and Jake in the pole barn repairing the gate to the colt’s stall. Hank wiped his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief as Jake kneeled to put the last screw into the hinge.
“What happened to Cowboy?” I asked.
Jake finished drilling. “He left when his pager went off. A barn fire on the other side of Rickety Bridge, I believe.” Jake grabbed a bottle of water off the top of the post and downed half of it.
“Have any objections to me picking berries with Floss?”
“Depends,” he said, grinning mischievously. “How many pies is she making me?”
Floss grabbed a couple of white buckets from the small stack against the wall. “One. I’m using the rest for jam.”
He turned his attention to her. “Two, and we got a deal.”
“Jacob Ward! You can’t bargain this girl’s freedom with pies.”
Bemused, Jake poked her some more. “I could ask for three. After all, I am injured.”
“Two, and that’s all,” Floss said. “And if I use sugar instead of salt, you should consider yourself lucky.”
Hank got a kick out of their exchange. “Floss, if you two are going to pick those berries, then you better get a move on. It’s supposed to storm again this afternoon. We’re going to finish up, board the horses, then we’ll be done for the day.”
“Then we’ll be back before the rain starts,” she promised.
…
Automatically, I assumed we’d be picking berries somewhere on the property. I was delighted when Floss told me to get in the truck. She drove us a few miles down a dirt road and pulled into a private drive resembling an overgrown trail.
Two long muddy ruts marked the way, divided by a median of tall grass and small shrubs that scraped the belly of the truck. She slowed, veering around large water-filled potholes in the tracks as we bounced around the cab.
Floss parked at the fence line, grabbed the white buckets, and ducked under the barbed fence. We furthered our quest into the forest with me right behind her. By the time we got to the blackberry bushes, I could no longer see the truck and had worked up a sweat.
“Whew!” I said, wiping at my forehead with the back of my hand. “It’s a bit of a hike.”
Floss grinned, not looking the least bit winded. “Wait until we head back carrying buckets of fruit. Good exercise.” She examined the bushes for a moment in silence. “Not all the berries are ripe. Don’t pick anything pink or red, just the black ones.”
There weren’t many black ones, but plenty of red and pink. “Not many ripe ones, Floss. Maybe we came out too early.”
“We did, but it had a purpose. I was checking to see if the bushes were overgrown. I’ll have to get my loppers after these ornery things soon and prune them back, plus it’s better to harvest the berries by hand after it rains. You don’t run into as many bees.”
“Is there a right way to do this?” I asked, brushing my hand along the deep-veined leaves before lifting a large juicy blackberry with my palm.
“Watch for thorns,” Floss said, plucking a couple of berries and tossing them into her bucket.
We picked next to each other, then worked in opposite directions. If it wasn’t for my ankles getting scratched by the scrubby brush, I probably would’ve enjoyed myself. I guess it was my own stupid fault for wearing sandals.
Bright sunlight beat down on us, burning my limbs and scalp with its consistently hot rays. I ignored the heat and focused on the pleasant, woodsy scent emitted from the green space around me. It reminded me of Jake, except his scent had an underlying citrusy tone. It was almost strange that I could recall the undertones of his scent so easily, when I couldn’t even remember the sound of my mother’s voice. Being in this place, surrounded by Jake’s loved ones, had only left me aching for the family I had lost. Yet, I’d never felt closer to them.
Juice from the berries already stained the bucket’s interior, as well as my fingers, when Floss suggested we take a break. We left our buckets and sat in the shade of some fountain-like trees a few yards away.
I plucked a dandelion out of the ground and threaded it into the hair above my ear as Jake had done before. How he had smiled at me afterward made me feel prettier, more feminine than I’d ever felt before. Like the flower had anything to do with it.
“Do you like flowers?” Floss asked.
“Oh, I love them!” I said. Then my face contorted.
Floss noticed. “You sure you like flowers? Your lip is curling up like you sniffed a skunk.”
I laughed. “I just realized something, that’s all. I’ve never actually been given flowers by anyone before, not even a man. I guess none of them ever thought I was special enough.”
“Well, I get flowers every year.”
“Aww. It’s sweet Hank would go through the trouble—”
“He doesn’t,” she admitted. “The flowers I get are the ones God sends my way every spring. All the flowers I’ll ever need. He cares enough to send them, so I care enough to enjoy them.”
“Honestly, I hardly ever noticed them before coming here,” I said with a shrug. “Maybe that’s why God’s punishing me by putting me in this situation.”
Floss shook her head. “Who said God is punishing you, dear? Maybe he wanted to surprise you. I see how he looks at you.”
I gave her a smile. “God?”
“No, dear, I’m talking about Jake. Keep up with me.” Floss rose to her feet. “I’m going to show you something.” She walked over to the buckets on the ground, pulled out a berry and returned to where I sat. Gently breaking the berry open with her fingernail, she rubbed the stain over her lips, instantly brightening them. “See,” she said, smacking her lips together. “God gives you everything you need. You just have to figure out how to use it to your advantage.”
“Jake is a little more complicated. He has rules. I’m surprised he let me come out here with you. I’m not even sure why he did. Probably his way of buttering me up after handcuffing me last night.”
“Complaining doesn’t create solutions,” Floss said, pulling the dandelion from my hair. She held it lightly under my chin. “Besides, you like butter.” She winked with wise, knowing eyes. Then she went back to picking berries.
I joined her and we finished filling our buckets as dark gray clouds thickened in the distance, blocking out the sun’s rays.
“Hey, Floss,” I yelled. “These blackberry bushes over here have been trampled. Nothing left to pick.”
“The deer have probably been through here a time or two,” she said, looking off at the dark black clouds forming in the distance. “Can’t stay much longer, but there are some more brambles near the creek. They produce better because they get more moisture, but we don’t usually pick from them. Walking the hill hurts Hank’s knee. Why don’t you take this empty bucket down there and start picking while I take these to the truck?”
“Which way is the creek?”
“Over there, north of the large red oak. The creek’s small, but feeds into the Trinity River. Walk straight that way and you’ll find it,” Floss said. “Be back in a minute.”
Floss shrank into the trees as I walked down the hill looking for the blackberry bushes.
The air cooled as the wind picked up, gusting through the trees and warning creatures of the approaching storm.
Who knows how far I walked, but I hadn’t come across the blackberry bushes. Had I strayed off course? All the trees looked the same, and it’s not like my brain had a built-in compass. When I heard the sound of running water, I changed course slightly and strolled in that direction. The sound grew louder. I was getting closer, but still saw nothing.
I positioned myself on a tall dirt mound, trying to catch a glimpse of the creek. Ten seconds later, I realized the mistake I’d made. A biting, stinging pain overwhelmed me. Hundreds of angry, rust-colored fire ants swarmed my feet and ankles, attacking in great numbers. I disturbed their nest, and in return, they had proficiently declared war.
Jumping around in circles, I knocked them away. Every time I thought I got them all, more crawled out from between my toes or the backs of my heels. My feet were on fire, and the burning needed to be doused out. I made a run for the creek.
As I ran, I caught a glimpse of the water. But in a flash, I realized I hadn’t found the small creek, but rather the larger Trinity River. I tried to stop abruptly, but the steep bank was slippery and the forward momentum wouldn’t allow it.
My knees buckled, forcing me to slide down the bank ten feet before dropping into the river.
The runoff from last night’s rainstorm had swelled the dirty river, creating a fast-moving monster, littered with debris. The swift current jostled me around underwater, lashing at me and depriving me of oxygen. It released its grip and I forced my way to the surface, but was only able to take a short breath before the monster dragged me under for the second time.
Again, I fought my way to the surface, smacking my skull on a large branch. Though dazed, I clung to the floating driftwood, using it as a life preserver. I’m not sure how many miles the river shoved me downstream, but somehow, I slowly maneuvered myself closer to the bank and climbed out.
Collapsing with fatigue on the sandy shore, my stomach rolled with nausea. I coughed and sputtered muddy river water from my burning lungs. My mouth felt gritty. I wanted to puke, but couldn’t. Though the next wave of nausea cramped my stomach tightly, I pushed my tangled wet strands out of my face and peered around, trying to get my bearings.
“Hellooo?” I yelled out, though the fire in my feet had transferred to my throat. My voice echoed in the solitude. Swept away by the rushing water, my sandals were no longer on my feet. Catastrophic, since hiking barefoot through the woods would be a slow, tedious process. But it wasn’t the first time I’d been alone in a bad situation and had to rely on myself.
Determined to make my way back to Floss, I crawled up the bank and stepped farther into the woods. Following the river upstream, I carefully made my way over rocks, rotting branches, and dead leaves. The brutal terrain bruised and scraped my feet.
By now, Floss had surely realized I was missing. She would’ve alerted Jake, who would be out searching. They’d find me and he’d yell at me for being an overbearing pain in his ass and tell me how stupid I was. And he’d be right, of course. Because who the hell in their right mind almost kills themselves picking stupid berries? Well, besides me. Just proves that I don’t belong here. Damn it, Jake. Why’d you bring me here and make me fall for you? This is all your fault.
I snapped back to reality when something moved in the brush. A tiny reddish-brown piglet with broken stripes running down its sides stared back at me. The piglet squealed and ran skittishly back into the briars. It would’ve been funny that I startled the piglet, if several grunting adults hadn’t stepped out.
Before coming to Texas, the only knowledge I’d had of pigs was what I learned from watching Charlotte’s Web. Pigs were cute, pink, and friendly. But these weren’t pigs; they were wild hogs. Hank had warned me how dangerous they could be. I suspected the two smaller ones were females.
Physically, the third hog was different. He was big, black, and so obviously male with thick, wiry hair raised on the back of his neck in an aggressive position.
His massive head was too large for his body, and his legs and snout were longer than the females’. He made a scissor motion with his jaw to show me his exceptionally sharp tusks, ones he planned to put to good use. I could hear him grunting with agitation, my presence exciting him. Unlike Wilbur, he wasn’t cute, pink, or friendly.
Then he charged me.