Page 47 of Rainwater
“No.” He whirled and jumped forward, grabbing her arms as if she was going to flee. His response was immediate and heartfelt. “Don’t go, Jennifer. I need this.”
She smoothed her hand over his face. “Okay,” she said softly. “Whatever you want. You’re in total control of this. Just tell me.” She watched the taut look fade from his face.
He swallowed in relief. “Okay. I’m so tired, Jennifer.”
“Of course you are,” she murmured gently. “You’ve been on a horse all day manhandling bulls. Why don’t you lie down on your stomach?”
He sank onto the bed, releasing the death grip he’d had on her arms.
She straddled his lean hips, settling herself to give him the most comfort.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” he answered, his voice muffled.
When she’d gotten enough lotion on her hands, she stroked his back until he sighed deeply and relaxed into the mattress. She worked his muscles slowly until she was sure they werethoroughly released of tension. She took her time to touch him and let him know that touch didn’t have to be painful or cruel.
She knew why he hated his father. She’d thought long and hard about it while she sat on the window seat of her bedroom looking down at where he slept. Her chest had ached when she came to the conclusion that he must have been physically abused. Although she couldn’t be sure, it seemed the logical answer. He avoided relationships, was a complete loner and he was running from a painful past. It made her wonder about the deaths of his sister and mother and how that must eat at him, too. So much, she thought. So much to deal with. The tears built slowly behind her lids as she gloried in touching him, easing his soreness and bringing him comfort.
“Jennifer, you make me feel so safe.” His voice was relaxed and told her he was close to sleep.
Those words finally released the hot tears caught in her throat. They rolled down her cheeks and every so often she wiped at her face so he wouldn’t know.
When he’d fallen asleep, she left quietly so as not to disturb him. At the cottage door, she stopped and her heart twisted painfully in her chest. Another ruined and ravaged painting sat in the trash.
“Oh, Corey,” she whispered into the darkness.
Chapter
Ten
The days passed and Corey kept a polite distance, but he watched her with his devastating hot eyes. She watched him, too, while he trained the mare, taking time after a long hard day to work with both Ellie and the horse. He was so patient, so kind. There were days when Corey and Ellie would have tickling contests that Jennifer could hear from the house. And she watched each day as Ellie fell more in love with him and she ached for him and her daughter.
It was obvious that he enjoyed Ellie’s company. She’d find them on the cottage porch hunched over while Corey explained the intricacies of drawing and painting. The sheer stunning power with which he rode a horse and muscled bulls was magnificent, but this gentle, warm teaching was seductive in the way he glowed. There were times when she had to look away from them, finding herself wishing that this was real. Wishing that at night, he would join them at the dinner table and he and Ellie would banter like father and daughter. She had dreamed that he would help her clear the table as he teased her. Then when all the chores were done and the lights were out, she could snuggle up in his sleek warmth and sleep with him until dawn.
On that big gray horse, he looked every inch the outlaw, but when he was instructing Ellie, the outlaw dissolved into an approachable, gentle, truly special man. But this special man would go soon, leave their lives.
Torn between keeping her daughter from experiencing the pain of his departure and the joy of knowing what it was like to have a father, she simply watched and agonized.
Three weeks after he first started training the mare, Ellie was on the mare’s back racing around the barrels as if they were made for each other. Jennifer would stand at the window each day and watch. She could see Ellie bloom from Corey’s praise and watched her work harder for him and for herself. With each passing day, she watched a championship team emerge, as Ellie either won or placed in competitions she entered.
Jennifer missed Corey terribly. The scent of him, the feel of his arms around her. She wanted to hold him, wanted to kick some sense into him. His eyes were so dark, still so full of pain and fear. She wished for the right words to touch all those bruised and battered places in him so that he wouldn’t feel he had to suffer with his secret alone.
But she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. She had no idea how long he’d been living in the shadow of silence. She kept her distance because the need in both of them was too volatile, a constant, unrelenting ache, and even though she hadn’t said the words to him, she’d promised with body language that she wouldn’t make him compromise himself no matter how much she wanted him.
She’d found other canvases, broken, ripped and demolished. Her heart ached with the discovery of each one, because she believed that he was truly trying to work out something very personal and important, yet he was failing, torturing himself over and over again.
And painfully, she didn’t know what to do or how to approach him. She felt so helpless, wanting to protect him and understand.
She knew he felt trapped and she didn’t like that hunted look in his eyes. So finally, she got in her truck and drove downtown to talk to Gus Waverly. She begged him to try to fix Corey’s motorcycle. She knew that Corey might just get on it and never come back, but she decided that was all right. She didn’t want him trapped. She wanted him free to go if he wanted to. It hurt just to think about a day without him, let alone the rest of her life.
This day wasn’t any different from other days. She stood at her window, watching Corey entertain Ellie with rope tricks. She heard her daughter’s clear bubbling laughter when he swung the whirling rope around and jumped through it, his dark silky hair jumping around his shoulders, the genuine flash of his grin intoxicating.
When she heard the heavy-stock truck come up the driveway, she noticed the way he immediately put down the rope, transforming into that steely-eyed man who her ranch hands quietly respected.
She saw him rub his hip absently as he watched the truck maneuver into place. He took the reins of the big gray horse and vaulted into the saddle. She would never get enough of watching him move—all sleek muscle and sinew over a breathtaking body, a warm, caring heart inside. Suddenly she hurt more intensely than she could ever remember.
She glanced away from the window and picked up a book from the window ledge, the one she’d been reading before she’d heard Ellie’s laughter. She brushed her hand over the title and sighed, tears coming to her eyes.Adult Children of Abusive Parents: The Long Journey Back.
