Sheltered(39)

“He dated when he was younger, but not much. There hasn’t been anyone since he found you. Not even a long while before you,” he admits, looking like he’s trying to remember how long ago but can’t recall. I want to ask more. Like how long has it been since he found me, but I don’t want to make Johnny uncomfortable when we just got back to being friends again.

“Maybe I can get this one to forgive me as well,” I say, turning my attention to Diamond.

She comes over to me, and I hold out my hand. I think for a second she’s going to back away, but she tilts her head down as if asking for me to pet her. I run my hand up her jaw and to her mane. Johnny hands me an apple, and I hold it out for her to eat while he puts on her saddle.

When she’s ready to go, I use the nearby stool and climb on. Johnny leads me out of the barn and I see Kathleen waiting on me.

“My goodness, she sure was made for you to ride her. Y’all are both as pretty as can be.”

I blush and thank her for the compliment. I can’t remember the last time a woman called me pretty, and the fact that it’s Ryker’s mother makes it all the sweeter.

Goober is a beautiful horse, black with big white spots that look like someone poured paint on her.

“How’d she get her name?” I ask as we take off down a trail together.

“Well, her real name is Victoria, but the trainer before Ryker kept calling her a goober because she wouldn’t listen. When Ryker bought her, that was the only name she responded to.”

Kathleen leans over a little to whisper like the horse can’t hear her. “But between you and me, she’s probably the smartest one on this farm. She just likes to play dumb so she doesn’t have to work and can take names.”

“That is smart,” I say, and we both laugh.

A comfortable silence falls between us as we take our time going down the trail. Kathleen points out flowers along the way, and we talk about our favorites.

“You know, you remind me a lot of myself,” she says, and I’m surprised.

“That’s nice of you to say, but I’m afraid I don’t come from much.” I hate admitting that to her, because I want her to like me.

“I know Ryker hasn’t told you why you’re here, but I’m free to tell you about myself.” Our horses are going at a slow pace and the only sound on the trail is their hoofs in the grass and birds in the trees. “I grew up in the lowlands of South Carolina. My mama left when I was about a year old, and my alcoholic father wasn’t there much longer after that. I was raised by my grandmother, but she was older than Jesus’s sandals the day I was born and wasn’t able to do much in the way of taking care of me.”

She smiles at me, and I think she’s had a long time to work through this pain, so maybe that’s why she doesn’t sound bitter when she’s telling me. I wonder if I’ll ever get there and learn to not hold on to how my mama was.

“She died when I was fourteen, and nobody ever told Child Protective Services. In my trailer park, you just shut your mouth and minded your business. I kept getting her social security checks, and the girls at the bank all knew me, so they kept on cashing them. It was enough to keep the trailer and get by until I could graduate high school. I kept thinking my diploma was the way out, but even after high school, I was working as a waitress at a truck stop and could barely keep the lights on.”

Suddenly an image of her tired to the bone and worn from life fills my mind, and I can see her so clearly. I could have easily ended up the same way, and she’s right, we’re more alike than I realized. It makes me feel closer to her—a connection of understanding.

“I was terrified of ending up like my mother, but the first asshole that came along, I fell in love with. He was a drinker just like my father and started hitting me about a month into our relationship. Or whatever you want to call it. I got pregnant right after that, and the second he found out, he was gone. In a way I was thankful because I didn’t have the money or the courage to leave, but I knew I didn’t want to raise a baby in that.”

She sighs and shakes her head as if shaking away the bad memories.

“I was raising a child on my own while working at the truck stop diner, but I was determined to make it work. Money was nowhere to be found, but Ryker was healthy and happy and that’s all that mattered to me. But one night I was working a late shift and a couple of roughnecks came in. I was used to all kinds of shit from those guys and ignored it as best as I could. We had a couple of cooks in the back who would look out for us, but these guys weren’t in the mood to be told to calm down. I don’t like to think about what could have happened, so instead I think about the moment when my Jackie walked in and saved me.”

“He saved you?” I ask, thinking about how lucky she is. I’ve heard horror stories about young women working at the truck stop near our trailer park.

“He ended up taking me home to make sure I was safe. He saw Ryker sleeping on a small mattress I had on the floor of his room and I think it broke his heart. It was all I could afford, but Jackie wouldn’t stand for it. He ended up sleeping on my couch that night, and the next day he bought Ryker a bed. A week after that he was moving us into his house.” She looks over at me and shrugs. “Jackie comes from a long line of old southern money. He spoiled me beyond my wildest dreams and took me out to every social event to show me off. But I was always the woman with the kid from the trailer park, and no amount of expensive soap could wash the smell off.”