When she didn’t return his smile, he said, “I didn’t think you’d go for that idea. You could go down to the Wal-Mart later and grab yourself some boots and a pair of blue jeans.”
Wal-Mart? The man was seriously delusional. She’d never been inside a Wal-Mart, and she’d never consider buying something as important as her clothing there. “Tomorrow, you can point me in the direction of the nearest boutique. Now, please put me down.”
At her comment, he threw back his head and laughed. But she had no idea what was so funny. Once he stopped laughing, he opened the front door as if he owned the place, and marched inside. The first thing she noticed was the gleaming hardwood floors and the smell of lemon scented furniture polish. On one side of the entry hall was the living room, and on the other the dining room. Both were framed with pocket doors. And both boasted oriental rugs and antique furniture. But before she had a chance to assess more of her surroundings, a huge, furry thing came rushing toward them. Rusty screamed and buried her face in Galloway’s neck, holding on for dear life.
“Down, Jack,” Galloway yelled.
She heard a little whine and then all was quiet. Apparently they weren’t going to be eaten alive. She lifted her head and saw the beast sitting at Galloway’s feet, staring up at her with interest—as if it could swallow her whole. And from the size of the thing, it probably could.
“What is that thing?” she asked. “And what’s it doing inside the house?”
“That thing,” he said as he tried to lower her to the floor, “is my dog. And he lives here. Let go of my neck, you’re going to choke me.”
“Will he bite?” she asked, loosening her grip a little, but letting him know she did not want to be set anywhere near that beast.
“No.”
After prying her fingers loose, he set her on her feet. She stayed by Galloway’s side and clung to his arm, afraid of what the dog might do. “You’re sure he doesn’t bite?”
“He doesn’t bite, but he does have one bad habit that’s sort of annoying.”
“What’s that?” she asked tentatively.
“He likes to stick his nose in interesting places.” Before she could open her mouth to tell him how vile she considered him, he said, “Come here, boy. Come meet Rusty.”
“Ugggghhhhhh!” she squealed as the dog stuck his whole head where he had no business sticking it. “That’s disgusting!”
She expected him to reprimand the beast somehow, but Galloway only howled with laughter.
She wanted to see Sam. And she didn’t want to see Sam. What would she say to him after all these years? At the funeral, they’d simply exchanged greetings, and after a few words, he’d left. His quick visit had left her visibly shaken, and relieved at the same time.
But this was different. She was staying in Sam’s house. And he was dying. There was no escaping that.
How would she approach the subject of his illness? She didn’t know if she could talk about it. Maybe Sam wouldn’t want to talk about it either. And how could she blame him?
A dizzy current passed through her. She hadn’t been herself today. Not only was her head still pounding, but she felt slightly lethargic, and her stomach was a tad queasy. Maybe because she hadn’t had a decent meal in two days. As she let her weary body drop to the bed, something bounced off the pillow sham and tumbled close to her hip. Rusty picked it up and examined it. It was a stuffed pony that had seen better days. Its brown fur had been practically worn off in spots, and its tail was tangled and matted. She set it aside with disinterest, and then for some reason, picked it up again, studying it more closely this time.
“Brownie,” she whispered. It was the stuffed pony Sam had given her for her fifth birthday.
So, Sam had kept the stuffed toy all those years, she thought, bringing it to her face and rubbing the soft fur against her cheek. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the nights she’d held Brownie to her cheek as she’d slept. Slowly, she opened her eyes and glanced around.
When Galloway had carried her luggage up the stairs and opened the door to her room, Rusty hadn’t paid much attention to it, other than she’d noticed the smell of fresh paint clinging to the air. But now, she took the time to survey her surroundings. The room had been decorated with a blue striped wallpaper and shiny white painted doors and trim. The blue and yellow floral comforter hung over a white dust ruffle. White sheers hung over mini blinds and were topped with a soft, blue valance.
There were at least two dozen yellow roses in a cut crystal vase on the dresser. Rusty stood and walked toward them. Their sweet scent helped mask the paint smell. There was a card; she hadn’t noticed it earlier. Reaching forward, she plucked the tiny envelope free and opened it. “Welcome home,” she read aloud. “All my love, Dad.”
She ran her fingers along the words on the card before delicately touching the rose petals and breathing in their fragrant aroma. Beside the vase, there were several framed snapshots of her as a child. She picked up one and looked at it intently. She must have been four years old, dressed in a red snowsuit complete with mittens and boots, and standing proudly beside a crooked snowman wearing a green scarf. Her nose and cheeks were bright red, and she was grinning from ear to ear.
Setting the picture aside, some of her childhood memories came flooding back. She and Sam had been so close. She’d loved him, and he’d loved her. But then for some reason he’d written her out of his life. Why?
Feeling a rush of tears coming on, Rusty quickly gathered her composure and left the room. She used the bathroom across the hall to freshen up and then went in search of Sam. Galloway had pointed out the closed door to his bedroom on the first floor.
As she went down the stairs, she watched for the beast of a dog Galloway called Jack. As her feet hit the landing, she protected her private parts with her hands just in case the thing was lurking nearby and decided to get up close and personal again. She walked slowly toward the door at the end of the hall and stopped. On the other side of the door, she heard voices. She recognized Galloway’s, and Sam’s. Although, she still hadn’t decided what she’d say to Sam, she tapped lightly and then opened the door a crack.
And then she no longer had to wonder about her words. They flew out of her mouth.
RUSTY PUSHED THE DOOR wide open and stormed inside. “Are you both crazy!” Cigar smoke clouded the room, casting a thick, gray haze above Sam’s rumpled, king-size bed. The air was so thick with smoke and stench she could barely breathe. Beer cans decorated the bedside table and dresser.
“How dare you ply my father with cigars and alcohol, Mr. Galloway! He happens to be a very sick man. Don’t you have any brains at all under that thick skull of yours?”
Marching forward, she grabbed the cigars from each of the men’s fingers and stabbed them out in the glass ashtray on the bedside table.
She then picked up several empty beer cans, and thrust them at the cowboy. “Go get a trash bag and get this stuff out of here. Then, I want you out of this house.” When the man only stared at her, ignoring her orders, she slapped her hands to her hips and added, “Now, Mr. Galloway!”
The man glared at her without answering, a scowl across his weather- tanned face.
It was Sam who spoke up. “Don’t go blaming Luke for—”
Rusty whirled on him, pointing a finger at him. “Of course I blame him.”
“But—” Sam started, only to be cut off by her.
“We’ll talk about this later. Right now I expect Mr. Galloway to follow my orders.”
She glared at Galloway, daring him to talk back. She watched as he made eye contact with Sam. “Are you going to let her talk to me like that?” But Sam only shrugged his shoulders in defeat.
Slowly, Galloway got to his feet and stood over her. For a brief moment, she’d thought about stepping out of his way, but instead she remained firmly in place, her eyes level with his Adam’s apple. She watched as it slowly moved up and down. He’d have to go around her because she was not about move.
There was no way in hell she’d let that man intimidate her. For heaven’s sake, he was only an employee. He could certainly be replaced. And she was going to suggest that to Sam once Galloway left the room.
After a few moments, he sighed loudly, stepped around her and walked out the door with an armful of empty beer cans.
Turning around, Rusty focused on Sam. He sat propped against the headboard, two pillows tucked behind him, looking slightly disheveled. His red hair needed combed, and his beard looked scruffy. But other than that, he looked as healthy as an ox.
His shoulders were wide and muscular, his belly round and full beneath the sheet, and he wore a broad smile on his ruddy face. She’d expected him to look thin, pale and drained, not robust and happy.
“How are you feeling?” she asked tentatively.
His smile broadened. “Much better, now that you’re here, Rusty.” Patting the bed, he said, “Come closer. Let me get a good look at you.”
She moved toward the bed, but didn’t sit down. She noticed a pair of crutches propped at the end of the bed. In spite of his healthy looks, the poor man apparently didn’t have enough strength to walk without support. Afraid he’d notice her worried look, she braved a smile.
He looked her over from head to toe, rubbing his silver streaked beard. “You’re too skinny. But don’t worry, Luke and I will fatten you up in no time.”
Rusty blinked at him, then folded her arms in front of her. It was the second time in two days she’d been told she was too skinny.
Luke came back for a second load, tossed the cans in a black, plastic garbage bag and took the dirty ashtray with him when he left. Rusty shut the door behind him.
“About Mr. Galloway—”
“I hope you two hit it off. Luke’s a good man. I don’t know what I would have done without him. If it hadn’t been for Luke, I probably would have lost this place years ago.”
“I think you’re giving him way too much credit.”
Sam chuckled. “Ruffle your feathers a little, did he? Well, he can be a little brusque at times, but you’ll get used to him.”
Brusque? That wasn’t exactly the word she would have chosen. “I don’t want to upset you, especially in your condition, but I think you should consider replacing him. The man is … dangerous. And he has no manners, whatsoever.”
He laughed harder this time, his face and neck turning a bright red. “I could never replace Luke. He’s been like a son to me. And he sure knows what the hell he’s doing with those thoroughbreds. Did you know we had a triple crown winner last year? Ink Spot. Maybe you read about that. Do you know what a feat that is? Besides, Luke owns half the farm and this house.”
Rusty felt as if she’d been slapped on the behind with a wet towel. “But—” She gathered her thoughts, then continued. “If you needed money, you could have called me. I would have helped you.” Or would she have? What would she have thought of Sam if he’d called after asking her for money when he hadn’t bothered to visit her after all those years?
Sam waved his hand, as if to dismiss her thoughts and lifted his chin. “Luke and I don’t want or need your money.” He patted the bed again. “Come sit down, Rusty.”
Dropping her arms to her sides, she moved closer to the bed and sat carefully on the edge.
“All Luke needs is a good woman to love him, and a couple of kids. That would take care of that surly attitude of his. In the meantime, I’m sure having you around will put a smile on his face.”
Rusty wasn’t so sure about that. She’d yet to see the man smile. Not even when he’d laughed at her. Most of the time he looked as if he wanted to kill her with his bare hands.
But enough time wasted arguing about Galloway. It was Sam who needed her attention. “Can I get you anything, Sam? Some water? Something to eat?” She looked into his green eyes. They were the same color as her own. And her dark red hair came from Sam’s genes as well. Though, she’d been spared most of his freckles.
“Nah. Luke will grill me a steak later.”
“A steak? Surely, that can’t be good for you.” Just the sight of red meat made her cringe inside. She’d speak to Galloway about Sam’s diet. Then she had a better idea. “I think it would be best if we hire someone, a cook with your dietary needs in mind, to prepare your meals.”
“Dietary needs? Now, hold on there. I didn’t ask you to come here and turn my house into a nursing facility with a wait staff. I don’t want a bunch of strangers parading in and out of here, during my last days.” He coughed twice. “Trust me, I know what’s good for me. And nobody cooks up a steak like Luke.”
She’d seen the type of care Luke Galloway had been providing for Sam. Beer and cigars. There was no way she’d let that man come around Sam again.
But she also understood and respected Sam’s wishes for peace and quiet. “Well, I suppose I could take over the cooking while I’m here.”
“You know how to cook?” he asked, looking impressed.
“How hard can it be? If Galloway can do it, I’m sure I can learn.”
Sam winked at her. “That’s my girl. A woman needs to know how to do simple things, like cooking, in order to hook a good man. She can’t be spending all her time shopping and traveling.”
Was he referring to her? Certainly, he didn’t think that was all she did with her life, did he? But now was not the time to tell him about all the volunteer work she did at the children’s hospital. Even though it didn’t involve cooking or hard labor, the nurses and doctors appreciated the books she bought, and the stories she read to the children.
Her gaze shifted to the nightstand where a prescription bottle sat. Rusty reached out and picked it up. Take one tablet for pain every four hours, it read. It had been prescribed by a Dr. William Besner. Carefully, she replaced the bottle and looked at Sam. He quickly dropped his gaze from her face.
Touching his arm gently, she asked, “Are you in terrible pain?”
“No, not always. At least, not now that you’re here with me. How long will you stay?”
She didn’t know, hadn’t thought about it. But those weren’t the words that came out of her mouth. “As long as you need me. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone at a time like this.”