Page 34 of Stables

She tried to warn me gently, but I was too stupid to listen.

I can’t afford to make the same mistakes. Not with Paisley involved.

“Even on the property is huge, Char. Did he try anything?” At least she sounds more serious.

“No, he was actually pretty standoffish.” Every time he looked at me he was either clenching his jaw or his eyes were pinched. “In fact, I think he barely tolerates me.”

“Hmm. Well, maybe that’s for the better until all this crap with Matt gets worked out,” she sighs. “I don’t know if I can make it today. One of our tanks took a shit.”

“Oh no! I hope nothing too bad?” Those things hold hundreds, maybe thousands of gallons of milk.

“Bad enough that Dad and Devon are heading to Missoula for parts.” Her voice gets muffled like she’s talking to someone else. “I gotta go. I’ll try and zip up later to feed the horses for you, but I might just sneak.”

“Oh, Dixon did that already. I appreciate it though.” I hate that I can’t do my own chores. I think today I’m going to tackle cleaning the kitchen though, it’s driving me nuts.

“Dixon?You’re on a first name basis?” Her pitch rises before she starts giggling. “Daddy Dix is here to save the day!”

My eyes roll, even if she can’t see them. “I’m not going to hear the end—”

She cuts me off. “I gotta go, I’ll call you back. Bye!”

Paisley looks up from her project on the floor when I toss my phone on the counter. “Mommy, look.” She holds her hands out proudly to show me the line of plastic lids she has in a row.

“Very pretty, baby girl. Are you going to help me put them in the dishwasher?” Flipping open the ancient machine, I turn on the faucet to let the water start getting warm.

Everything in this old house takes time to get going, including me this morning.

Some of the ache is starting to work its way out of my leg, and I can see better out of my swollen eye.

It would have been another day to lay around if I didn’t have things to do.

I can’t afford to sit on my butt. As embarrassing as it was this morning to run out of coffee for the doctor, it’s becoming the least of my worries.

He was unexpectedly rugged looking with his messy dark hair and bristle of whiskers.

Why do I almost feel guilty thinking about him like that?

I shouldn’t. There’s nothing wrong with admiring a handsome man.

“Eye candy” is what Libby calls them.

“Paisley, remember when you get older, sweets are bad for you.” I’ve always found that the pretty ones are crazy.

That reminds me, where’s my sugar jar? The last place I saw it was when I gave Dixon tea.

Well, crap. And my mug?

Maybe he left it on the porch?

After drying my hands, I swing the door open to check. I’ve no sooner stuck my head outside before Paisley jumps up and runs after me, screaming my name with tears and snot streaming down her reddened face.

“Oh, sweety! It’s okay. Mommy’s right here.” I start to pick her up out of habit, but the pinch in my ribs tells me otherwise.

Bending awkwardly, I try to soothe her. “I’m here, baby. Let’s go finish cleaning up.” I know some people say their kids are clingy when they’re little.

But I doubt much of it compares to the full blown terror of a child who’s witnessed their mom almost dying.

She’s glued to me, except when Libby is here. That’s the only person Paisley is calm with.

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