Avelina

SPRING 2005

Jake was my first kiss—my first everything. After my mom eventually went back to Spain, he took care of me and made me feel safe. We got married in Las Vegas at one of those quickie chapels, but it didn’t matter to us because we loved each other. We sold my three other horses, my truck, and my trailer, but Jake let me keep Dancer. He knew I would never part with her.

I always thought I would go to nursing school or become a veterinarian, but instead, the moment I met Jake, I dropped out of high school and never bothered getting my GED. The winter we got married, we were hired as wranglers on a ranch a hundred miles northeast of Great Falls, Montana. Ranching was something I knew well but it wouldn’t have mattered what I was doing, as long as I was with Jake.

The owners of the ranch were an older couple, Redman and Bea Walker. They didn’t have any children, just hired help, so we lived there in one of four cabins off the main ranch house. Bea cooked our meals while Redman, who got more ornery by the minute, rode around the ranch on a great big bay horse, barking orders at the rest of us. There was also Dale, who was in his forties—he was a large animal vet—and Trish, his wife, who was once a national rodeo queen. Dale helped out on the ranch but his veterinary practice also extended to other ranches nearby. Trish was a wrangler, like Jake and me, which meant she worked the horses and cattle and handled the general caretaking duties around the ranch. There were no children at the Walker Ranch; Jake and I were the youngest, and sometimes Trish, Bea, and the other ranch hands would call us “the kids.” I’d overheard Trish telling Bea that her condition made her barren. I never pried any further to find out what condition Trish had, but I knew Bea had struggled to have children herself, which made her very sympathetic to Trish’s situation. Redman and Bea had one child that I knew of who died at birth, so those who lived on the ranch became their family instead. There was history and wisdom inside of Bea and Redman and a lot of old, painful memories that they’d share as lessons whenever the opportunity arose.

Ranching is a dangerous life and not for the faint of heart. Sometimes the pain behind Bea and Trish’s eyes, which I knew was from not being able to have their own children, made the ranch feel like some sort of graveyard of broken dreams, only made beautiful by the breathtaking landscape, the huge, endless dreamlike skies, the millions of stars we saw on clear nights, and of course, Bea and Trish’s strong female drive to carry on and be mothers to us all.

For Jake and me, our hearts and dreams hadn’t been broken yet. We were excited about life and we talked about it all the time. And we wanted kids. Every time Jake would make love to me, he would say, Make a baby with me, Lena. That’s what he called me for short. This time it will work, he would say, though it didn’t for almost a year.

In the meantime, we took refuge in each other. He wasn’t much more experienced in the relationship department than I was, but he was tender and sweet with me and we learned together. We explored each other’s bodies and our own, and we figured out how to feel good while we were tucked under the thick wool blankets in our tiny cabin at the Walker Ranch.

Jake’s parents lived a couple of hours north, near the Canadian border. We didn’t hear from them much except for an occasional phone call from Jake’s mom. Jake didn’t want me to meet them because he said his dad was a mean drunk and his mom had taken the abuse so long that she was just a shell of a woman.

In the summer of 2004 we did the rodeo circuit again, traveling back to California and down to Texas. Neither one of us ever got national attention but it was what we loved doing. In the fall we would drive the cattle back to the ranch and in the spring we would take them out to pasture.

The winters were long and cold in Montana but we had each other and our horses. Jake had bought me a little herding dog. He was an Australian shepherd mix and he hated everyone. He only had one purpose in life and that was to herd the cattle. We named him Pistol.

The following spring Jake and I made a plan to take the cattle out to pasture and then camp for a week or so in the valley before heading back. Once Redman agreed to it, we decided to think of it as a little honeymoon, even though we had been married for more than a year. We would take our time coming back, fish in the streams, and enjoy nature.

“I want to bring Dancer,” I said to Jake as he sat on the steps going up to our cabin.

“No, she’s no good for this type of thing. You know that. She’s got no stamina.”

I sat down next to him. Tucking a strand of my dark hair behind my ear, he squinted his eyes and smiled, revealing his boyish dimples. “We’ll take Bonnie and Elite. They’re good girls. Okay, sweetie?”

He sat there in his tight Wranglers and cowboy hat set low on his head. His legs were spread wide and his chest puffed out, broad and firm. He had such a strong and convincing presence. I could never say no to him. “Okay.”

“Come here, Lena.” He pulled me onto his lap and brushed my hair off my shoulders to fall down my back. The roughness of his jaw tickled my neck as he laid small kisses near my ear. “You’re mine,” he whispered. “No one else can ever have you.”

I kissed him on the mouth, expressing my agreement. I was the luckiest girl in the whole world. I turned in his embrace and pushed my back against his chest. His hands clasped together over my center, holding me tight against his body. I wondered briefly what his hands would feel like clasped over my pregnant belly. “What are you thinking about, angel?”

“I wonder what our kids will look like.”

“I can only imagine precious little girls as beautiful as their mother.”

Turning to look up at him, I smiled. “You mean you don’t want boys?”

“Oh I do. It’s just hard for me to imagine them.”

“What will you teach them?”

He looked up thoughtfully. “Besides the work and the horses, the cattle, I guess. Maybe I’ll teach them how to find the perfect girl and how to be a man.”

I looked up to the sky and rested the back of my head on his shoulder. “Tell me, Jake McCrea, how does one find the perfect girl?”

“You have to look real hard for that sparkle in her eye.”

I began to giggle and then he tickled me and I fell into fits of laughter. “You’re a silly man,” I shouted. “Stop that right now.”

We were quiet for several moments. He turned me in his lap and kissed me softly, holding my bottom lip between his teeth for a second before letting go and murmuring near my ear, “You’re a sexy woman. Come to bed with me, Lena.”

We packed our things in our saddlebags and rode out at dawn. It was a two-day ride to the pasture and one back without the herd. The skies were clear but it was brisk. I wore a thick down coat and heavy jeans over thermals but I was still cold. Jake wore a T-shirt, Carhartt jacket, jeans, and a baseball cap.

On the first night, we set up camp at dusk near a stream. Jake built a fire so I could warm up some tea. I unwrapped sandwiches Bea had made for us while I watched my silly husband strip down to nothing. He was completely naked, standing outside the tent. “What are you doing?” I asked in amusement.

“Going for a swim.”

“Jake, you’ll freeze.”

“No I won’t. Watch me.” He put his cowboy boots back on and ran down the short embankment toward the stream. I grabbed a blanket and chased after him. Before I could reach him, he tore off his boots and quickly walked into the deepest part of the river, shouting back at me the whole way.

“Oh, baby, this feels great!” he yelled. “You have to get in here! Come on, get naked.”

“No way! You’re crazy!” He only lasted about two minutes and then he came jogging out of the water, cupping his hands over himself. “You don’t want to see this, Mrs. McCrea.” He was shaking but still smiling. His abs and chest and biceps flexed as he squeezed his arms in toward his body.

“You are one sexy cowboy, even freezing.” I threw the blanket around him and he laughed, shivering under the wool.

“You gonna warm me up, sweetheart?” he asked, his eyes glimmering with hope.

“I’d love to warm you up, handsome.”

Back in our tent, Jake never got dressed. He climbed into our sleeping bag and just grinned at me as I undressed. There was one small lantern on the floor of the tent but it gave off enough light for me to see the desire in his eyes.

“Hurry, Lena, I need you to warm me up.”

I got undressed and slipped into the sleeping bag, facing toward him. “Should we turn out the lantern?”

“No one will see us; we’re in the middle of nowhere. Let’s leave it on so I can look at you.” He grinned and then sunk down and kissed his way from the hollow of my neck to my breasts. “Your body is perfect,” he said as he continued to kiss every inch of me. We made love twice that night and then we stayed twisted up in each other for a long time after. Sometime later in the night, he stirred at the sound of the wind rushing through the nearby trees.

The temperature had dropped dramatically once the sun went down, and I thought it would be wise to get dressed again. I reluctantly left the warmth of the sleeping bag.

“It’s just the wind,” I said through chattering teeth as my body trembled uncontrollably.

“You’re freezing, Lena. Just get back in here.”

“But . . .”

“Trust me, I’m warm enough to heat you up throughout the night.”

He was right, as usual. I stripped back down to nothing and pressed myself against his warm, naked body. He threw his muscular leg over me and I ran my hand down it, finding the wiry hair on his thighs and the smooth part where his Wranglers had chafed the skin. His big body enveloped me and made me feel loved and protected.

They say that home is where the heart is. Mine was always right there, tucked between Jake’s big arms.

At sunrise we were back to business, packing up our camp and saddling the horses. There was an eerie calm through the valley, as if it were part of a landscape painting, vivid and bright but frozen in time. The hills looked one-dimensional. No wind rustling the trees, no sounds from nature, and no vocalizations from the herd, which gave me a foreboding feeling.

I looked to Jake, who was cinching the saddle on Elite, our beautiful black-and-tan bay horse. His face was drawn down in a worried expression.

“Calm before the storm?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” he said quickly. “The horses would be twitchy.” He kneed Elite in the belly so she would inhale, allowing him to cinch tighter. When he yanked up, she spooked, jumped sideways, and began skittering backward. Jake grabbed the reins, pulling them up and in against her neck. “Sit, sit,” he hissed through gritted teeth. It was his command to stop the horse from moving backward. He was trying to get control but Elite was skittish. She sensed something.

He jumped into the saddle without hesitation and turned her in a circle as she chomped down and tugged at the bit in her mouth. “Get Bonnie ready,” he said to me. “I’m gonna run this one out a bit.”

“There’s a storm coming, right Jake?” I asked in a shaky voice.

He turned the horse once more and stared down at me, gauging my expression. His lips turned up into a self-assured smile. “Don’t worry, baby, everything will be okay.” With that, he let the reins out and gave Elite a little squeeze with his heels. From her back legs, she leapt forward, and they were off.

Horses are beautiful, majestic, and useful, but they’re not intelligent creatures. They have no way of judging a situation—they just react. Jake wanted to tire Elite out so she wouldn’t be so jumpy and endanger us. I would be the one riding her. He was trying to control her so she wouldn’t react to the doom that we all felt looming around us.

Once he was back with Elite, he seemed anxious. He wanted to get going and move the cattle out. He slid off of the saddle and handed me the reins. “She’s good. Let’s go,” he said and then he kissed me on the nose.

We gradually moved through the valley as the weather began to pick up. Jake sat back, relaxed in his saddle as he jogged Bonnie back and forth behind the herd, periodically whistling or clicking commands at her. At times I could hear him growling, “Get, get-up you.” A cow and her calf lagged behind, slowing our progress down. Pistol worked one side, prowling low and keeping the cattle in line while I trotted Elite on the other side. I stole glances at Jake every time I felt the wind pick up. He wore his baseball cap low, shadowing his eyes, but I could see his mouth. Every time I looked back he would flash me his dimpled grin, a piece of straw peeking from the corner of his lips as he chewed on it.

As the sun dropped down in the sky and fell behind the distant mountains, big storm clouds moved in, fast and hauntingly dark. The sky went almost black at three o’clock in the afternoon. I was shivering from the gusty bursts of wind blasting through me. Jake’s expression began to change. His jaw tightened and flexed and he sat upright in the saddle. We found a section of tall grass where the cattle could bunch together.

“We’ll stop here and camp over by the trees,” he shouted to me over the loud, rushing wind. The herd began to react and Elite began jumping nervously. Jake raced Bonnie toward me. “Get down from her!” he yelled.

I tried to pull her in a circle but she only went halfway and then began nervously shifting backward. “Get down!” Jake’s tone was harsher than I had ever heard from him.

Elite sat back on her haunches slightly and pinned her ears back. I slid off the saddle, jumped down, and moved away quickly. Jake was already at her side, grabbing at the reins and pulling her toward the trees. He tied the horses up as I spread the tent out to begin setting up. I was freezing before but then it began snowing. My hands went numb as I fumbled with the tent anchors.

Spring storms were not totally uncommon, but this storm had a fervor and fury to it that I could tell frightened even Jake. The wind was fierce, whipping the tent about as I tried ineffectively to set it up. We weren’t prepared for such a drastic temperature drop or for the several inches of snow. It felt like we were on the top of a mountain in a blizzard.

Jake jammed the last post into the ground and then turned to me. “Get in there, Lena.” He was out of breath.

“No, I’ll wait for you.”

He pulled me toward his chest. “I’m going to check on that calf and bring Pistol back. Just get in there. I’ll be back in a minute.” He touched his freezing lips to my mouth and pressed hard before untying Elite from the tree and jumping into the saddle.

Just as he passed me, one of the tent lines flew off the anchor, forcing the material to fly back and make a sound like a cracking whip. Elite reared right over me, and I saw as fear and panic swept over Jake’s face, almost as if the scene were playing in slow motion. Elite’s hooves fluttered just inches from my head. Stumbling back, I fell on my bottom and looked up to see Jake pulling Elite’s reins tight, forcing her from the reared position to fall backward, on top of him. He was trying to protect me. He had forced a thousand-pound animal to fall backward onto himself, crushing his body, allowing me to escape without a scratch.

“Jake!” I screamed so loudly that Elite immediately rolled over, got to her feet, and took off frantically. My husband, my cowboy, was lying there, nearly lifeless in the snow and the mud. I had seen Jake on a rearing horse and I knew he wouldn’t have pulled her back that way if I hadn’t been standing there.

I ran to him and dropped to my knees. His eyes were closed but he was moaning. “Jake, please, look at me.” For several minutes he stayed that way, moaning as blood began dripping from his nose. Panicking, I quickly secured the loose tent line to the anchor, grabbed him from under the arms, and dragged his six-foot-two massive body into the tent. He moaned and made horrifying guttural sounds as I yanked him across the rough terrain. I had to get him out of the cold or he would die there. After making sure that the tent was stable, I covered him with the sleeping bags.

My mind was racing. What could I do, how could I help, how could I heal him?

I knelt beside him when he began to stir.

“Jake, say something. Are you okay?”

He looked up at me and there were tears in his eyes. “I can’t feel my legs.”

The air rushed from my lungs as if I had been punched in the stomach by a thousand fists. I was gutted and had no words. I could feel myself shaking my head back and forth slowly but I wasn’t making a conscious effort to do so. I was in a state of complete disbelief and shock.

“No,” I said finally, but the word rushing over my lips barely made a sound. Jake grimaced, clearly pained by the realization he saw on my face. “It can’t be,” I said. He nodded and then closed his eyes, pressing tears to the corners before a steady stream began running down his cheeks. That was the first time I ever saw Jake cry. Even then, he tried to turn his head away.

“No, Jake, I won’t believe it, I promise you, it will all be fine. Look at me.”

I turned his head to face me but he wouldn’t look. “Open your eyes and look at me,” I sobbed, then my own tears began dropping into his hair.

God wouldn’t do this to me, I thought. I tried to convince myself that no God would let this kind of tragedy happen to two people so in love with such a long, hopeful future in front of them. But of course, I knew that wasn’t true. I knew that kind of pain and sadness; I was familiar with it and I knew it didn’t discriminate.

I spent that night holding him, counting his breaths and praying. We were a day’s ride away. We had a cell phone but no service in the valley. In the morning he fell in and out of consciousness as I prepared for the ride back. The weather had calmed but it was still snowing and very cold. I was terrified and every time I looked down at him lying there, the sinking feeling I had in my stomach would fall deeper. During one of his more lucid moments, he mumbled something to me as I sat next to him to put my boots on. I bent close to his face. “Tape your feet,” he said in a low voice, barely audible.

I shook my head up and down quickly and then rifled through his bag until I found a roll of duct tape. I ran the tape over my socks and then taped the outside of my lace-ups.

“Good girl,” he whispered to me.

I grabbed my pack and leaned over to kiss him. When he moved an arm up to touch my face, he winced and sucked air through his teeth. “Don’t move, I’ll be back soon.” I could taste the iron tanginess of blood when I kissed him.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too.” Tears flooded my eyes and dropped onto his face where they mixed with his. “Jake, you’re going to be fine, I promise,” I said slowly, as I took deep, deliberate breaths.

My heart was heavy and thudding along painfully as I watched his expression turn bleak. He swallowed and shook his head. “Get yourself to safety, don’t worry about me. Don’t come back for me. I’m no good,” he said, and then he lost consciousness. I fell apart, sobbing over his chest for several minutes before I could force myself to stand.

Crying hysterically, I stumbled out of the tent and discovered that Bonnie was gone. I fell to my knees again, cursing God and my middle namesake. Both horses were gone. I had no choice but to walk and hope that Redman and Dale would come looking for us. I had little faith that Jake and I would survive.

For the first time in his life, Pistol came up and licked my face, whimpered, and nuzzled his nose into my arm.

“Let’s go, boy.”

I headed back through the familiar snow-covered landscape I had traveled many times before. In parts where the vegetation was dense, the snow had already melted, creating thick, slushy mud. There was water sloshing in my boots, making my feet go numb. I fell several times by midday. On horseback, even at a slow pace, I would have covered twice as much ground.

Pausing near a tree, I hunkered down and called Pistol to me. I tucked him into my chest and tried to use his warmth to heat my body. I dozed off for a minute and dreamt of my horse Dancer coming to me. I woke with a start and realized the weather was getting bad again. To stay warm enough to survive, I would have to keep moving. I got up, whistled, and called out, hoping that Bonnie or Elite would turn up to take me home. As I trudged on against the storm, I kept my head down, trying to shield myself from the snow. At one point the wind was so strong that the snow looked like it was coming toward me, not down on me.

Every time I wondered if Jake was still breathing, my heart sank so low in my chest that it physically hurt. I tried to stay focused on getting back to the ranch. In the evening, the snow stopped falling long enough for me to make a shelter with branches and leaves, but it didn’t last long. Everything was saturated with snow, so I found a large rock and lay across it. Pistol jumped up and curled into me. We stayed like that, curled in a ball for hours until I had the strength to move again.

Before light filled the sky I was walking out of the valley, delirious, hungry, thirsty, and hopeless. “Dancer,” I whispered over and over. After hours of wishing, she came to me, as if in a dream. She walked out of the foggy haze, her striking white mane flapping against her neck. “Dancer,” I called, and she came trotting through the snow.

It was the first time in my life I truly surrendered. Dancer could have been a dream or an illusion, but at that point nothing mattered anymore except for my next breath. My body was numb and my eyes burned. Swinging my leg over her bare back, I gripped her firmly, taking a handful of her mane near her ears with one hand and a handful near her neck with the other. I bent low and close to her body and squeezed my legs as tight as I could. “Go home,” I said, and she took off, dancing in a full gallop across the open plain.

When she slowed, she was laboring heavily and foaming at the mouth. Pistol was still following us. We had one large plain to cross and then we would be near a road that led to the ranch.

I dozed off and only came to when I heard Redman shouting at Bea, “Call an ambulance!”

Draped over Dancer’s back, I kept my eyes closed, finally feeling safe after hearing the familiar voices. I let my mind wander to the days when I met Redman and Bea. They made Jake and me feel like we were part of a family again. Redman’s face was handsome, weathered as it was, and his voice was deep and rich. I imagined the younger version of himself as the Sundance Kid. Bea, a skinny, feisty woman, would have made the perfect Etta Place in her day. Now her hair was completely gray, always carefully pinned into a neat bun at the nape of her neck, and she never wore makeup. Like Redman’s, her face was covered in deep lines from many years of working outdoors. Redman’s hair still had some hint of ruddy color streaking through the gray but his eyes were a dull blue, which sometimes happens when the color fades with age, making even the brightest eyes look lifeless over time. He was an intelligent man and a skilled horseman, and he was compassionate and funny around the people he knew well, but he had a short fuse. Bea took a lot of crap from him, so occasionally she would give it right back.

“Jesus Christ, Red, why did you let these kids go alone?” she yelled as she pulled me down from Dancer’s back. I collapsed into her and spoke with the very little breath I had left.

“Jake is . . . hurt . . . bad. Three hours . . . east of the pasture. He needs . . . help,” I managed to let out. That was my last memory before waking up in a hospital room.

I woke to the sound of beeping from a monitor above me. I was alive. It wasn’t a dream. I turned my aching body and pressed a button to call a nurse. After what felt like an hour, a nurse finally came in and shut off the monitor alarm.

“You were just tangled up, sweetie. How are you feeling?”

“Where is my husband? Where are Redman and Bea and Dale and Trish?” The nurse smiled, looking pleased at my alertness.

Before she could answer, I heard Trish’s thick Texas accent echoing from the hall. “Oh, she’s awake?” She came running in, followed by Dale and Bea.

Trish wore her hair big, blond, and curly as she had in her rodeo-queen days. “Oh, Avelina, you’re awake, it’s so good to see those big brown eyes staring back at me.” Her hair bounced on the tops of her shoulders.

There was pity on all three of their faces. My eyes welled up. “Jake?” was all I could squeak out.

Dale’s entire face looked forlorn, and it looked like he had aged since I had last seen him. Dale was more handsome than most men you might come across in Montana. He had an air of sophistication about him. His dark brown hair was straight and always neatly combed, matching the eyebrows that framed his light green eyes. But that day there was no glimmer in his expression like there usually was.

Bea stepped up with an obligatory smile. “Jake is down the hall. Redman is with him.”

“That’s not what I want to know, Bea.” My voice was high, loud, and demanding.

“Don’t sass me, girl,” she shot back.

I started crying and then sobbing. “What is it, Dale? You’ll tell me, won’t you?”

He was at a loss for words. I ripped my I.V. out. Holding my hospital gown closed in the back, I scurried toward the door. Trish stopped me from heading out into the hallway. She had a wrinkled upper lip that drew the pink color from her lipstick into the tiny lines above her mouth, which were only visible when you were standing about five inches from her face. The result of so many years of smoking, I assumed.

She frowned. “Thank Jesus, Jake is alive, honey. He was awake earlier today, talking to all of us.”

“Then why are you frowning?”

She huffed and swallowed audibly, trying to fight back tears. With her hands gripping the outsides of my shoulders, she looked me right in the eyes and said, “He broke his neck, baby. He’ll never walk again.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could disappear. I knew Jake would not be the kind of man to take that news easily. Terrified to see him, I shuffled into the hallway and followed Trish to his room. His eyes were open and he was staring at the ceiling from his hospital bed when I walked in.

Redman rushed past me on his way toward the door. “Glad to see you up and about. He’s all yours.”

I grabbed Redman’s arm and pulled him around. “Why was Dancer out there?” I said, staring intensely into his cloudy blue eyes.

He squinted and then shook his head. “I don’t know. We were packing the horses to head out and noticed that her stall was open and she was gone. A few minutes later she was coming toward the house with you draped over her. All that matters is that you’re both here with us.” He bent, kissed my cheek, and left the room.

I moved to Jake’s bedside and leaned over. He wouldn’t make eye contact with me.

“Hi,” I whispered. He didn’t respond. He continued staring past me toward the ceiling. His eyes looked hollow. “Jake?” I said softly.

I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed his fear and spoke. “You all should have left me out there.”

“Oh Jake, I’m so sorry.” I fell forward onto his chest, overcome with guilt. He was paralyzed because of me.

I knew he could move his hands and arms but he didn’t even try to cradle me. He just let me slide off of him. I collapsed onto the floor in sobs.

Jake spent a month in the hospital and then a month in a recovery center. For each milestone he achieved—regaining full use of his hands and arms, using a wheelchair—I danced around and celebrated while he sat there and glared at me. One day, when we were with his physical therapist, I asked her if Jake could try to work up to using his legs again.

Jake snapped before the therapist could answer. “The doctors said it would be impossible. Are you deaf? Did you not fucking hear that?” Before the accident he never spoke a hurtful word to me.

“I’m sorry, babe,” I mumbled.

He didn’t respond. Instead he wheeled himself down the hall toward the exit.

At our cabin, Dale and Redman built a ramp and made other accommodations for the wheelchair. Life didn’t get any easier once Jake was home. He didn’t want me to bathe him or care for his needs in any way that would embarrass him. Instead, he would call Bea, and even then it was only to do the bare minimum. It made me feel useless and drove a big wedge between me and Jake. By winter his hair and beard had grown long and his eyes had become more expressionless and distant. The electrical current that animated his eyes had disappeared, and they dulled in color to a doleful, hazy blue. He spoke few words to me or anyone else. He would sit in his chair all day long in the front room and stare out the window. People on the ranch would walk past and wave to him but he would never wave back. There was a small TV in the corner that he kept on all day, usually on a news or sports channel. I think it was to drown out his own thoughts.

Besides Jake’s looks, his personality changed a lot in the months following his accident. He didn’t talk to me about how he felt. He wouldn’t kiss me; he would barely even look at me. Dale tried over and over to help him. He even encouraged Jake to begin studying so he could go back to school and become a veterinarian, or at least an assistant. Dale offered to let Jake work with him but Jake refused. He oftentimes got very agitated at anyone who made suggestions like that.

I stopped trying to convince Jake that he could have a normal life. He would sometimes call me stupid and then he would beat himself up afterward for treating me that way. The only thing I could do was try my best to make Jake comfortable. I continued working on the ranch so that we would have money. I ordered everything that a handicapped person could possibly need and had it all delivered right to our doorstep.

The doctors convinced me that Jake didn’t need pain medicine anymore but he would get so aggravated if I tried to lower his doses. He would tell me that I was lucky I didn’t know what it felt like to be crushed by a horse. He was wrong, though; the pain and guilt I felt was like a stampede of twenty wild horses trampling my heart every day.

On the coldest night that winter after the accident, Jake found a bottle of whiskey under the sink. I sat on our couch and watched him drink glass after glass in front of the fire. Before I went to bed, I went to him. I brushed a hand down his arm from behind and bent to kiss the side of his face.

He grabbed my hand, stopping me, and squeezed it so hard I had to hold my breath to prevent a scream from escaping my lips. Pulling me down toward his face, he seethed through gritted teeth: “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

He let go and I grabbed the bottle. “No more of this, Jake.”

He reached his long arm up, took a hold of my hair and neck from behind, and slammed my head down on the TV tray over his chair. I tried to pull away but he slammed me down over and over again. Scratching at his arms and trying desperately to get away, I could feel my hair being yanked out with every effort. I was crying and screaming and shocked by his strength. When I tasted blood in my mouth, I pleaded for mercy.

“Please, baby, stop,” I cried.

He held me down over his chair and whispered, “I’m taking you with me.” He smelled of whiskey and thick B.O. mixed with the muskiness of his greasy hair.

I fell to my knees as he gripped my neck tighter. “Please! Let go, you’re hurting me!”

“You want to come with me, don’t you?” he said, matter-of-factly.

Seconds later, I felt Redman forcing me out of Jake’s grasp. He didn’t say two words to Jake as he scooped me up and carried me out.

Walking toward the big house with me in his arms, Redman said, “You’ll be okay.” His voice was low and soothing.

He took me into the guest room and laid me on the bed. Bea came in with a bowl of warm water and a washcloth to clean my face. I reached up and felt my swollen cheeks and the blood mixed with tears.

Bea’s expression was stoic as she dabbed at the cuts over my eyes. “You don’t deserve this,” she said.

“Yes I do.” I believed it like it was the ultimate truth, just like I believed that the sun would rise in the morning and fall in the evening.

She started singing “Danny Boy” quietly while she continued cleaning my face. I fell asleep wondering when Jake would come back to me. If he would ever come back to me.

One eye was swollen shut in the morning. I shuffled back to our cabin with my head down and found Jake staring out the front window with his usual blank expression. He turned his chair and looked up at me, studying my face for an entire minute. It was the first time since his injury that I saw any sign of compassion or of the man I knew before. He was guilt-stricken by what he had done to me. He scowled and shook his head but didn’t say anything. He just turned and went back to looking out the window.

After cleaning the cabin, I put on a thick jacket, baseball cap, and sunglasses and headed for the door. “I’m going to get milk and bread and cheese for sandwiches. Is there anything else you want?”

He didn’t answer me, which wasn’t unusual. At the bottom of the ramp, I looked up to the window and saw that he was watching me.

I love you, I mouthed to him.

I love you, he mouthed back.

I let a smile touch my lips before turning toward my truck. When I reached for the handle, I heard the explosive, ringing sound of a gunshot. I whipped back toward our cabin and saw, through the window, Jake slumped over in his chair.

It was a cold January morning when my husband, Jake McCrea, put a pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger, taking his own life just seconds after he had told me he loved me.

I couldn’t fix him. There were no healing powers in my hands.

He hadn’t physically taken me with him, as he had threatened to, but he took what was left of my heart, ending any semblance of life inside of me. At nineteen, I became cold and hard and looked forward to the end of my bleak existence.

CHAPTER 4

Binds Us

Nathanial

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 682