Saving Cinderella

Mrs. McCall moved about the large yet cozy room with quiet efficiency.

“Where did you leave Gray?” she said.

“Um, I’m not sure. About a mile back, I guess.”

“He should be home any minute, then. He’ll come and check that you’re safe before he sees to the horse. You haven’t told me your name yet, honey.”

The reproof was so mild it was almost a compliment.

“I’m sorry. It’s Jill. Jill Brown.”

Jill Brown McCall? She didn’t say it, being absolutely sure that Gray, like herself until very recently, would have said nothing about their marriage to his family.

“It’s good to meet you, Jill. And you, Sam, darling-heart, although I know you’re feeling too bad to talk.” She slid a wide, half-filled soup plate across to Jill and cautioned, “Still piping hot, so wait a little,” then added, “I’m Louise.”

There was the sound of boots clumping on the back steps, then the rattle and creak of old doors opening, and Gray appeared. He swept his hat off his head with a single, practised movement, and Jill could see that his nose was shiny with cold and his black eyes glistened. The feeling of the outdoor world of the ranch seemed to enter the room with him. Space and air, the smell of animals and grass, a sense of freedom coupled with hard work.

The hard work part, Jill understood. She’d had to work hard herself, for much of her life. She wasn’t afraid of work, and when she’d taken on a task, she was stubborn about seeing it through. But everything else about Grayson McCall was new. And appealing, in an elemental way that unsettled and disturbed her. Disturbed her far more than it had in Las Vegas, when they’d both been playing roles that weren’t their own.

She had to struggle to take her eyes off him, to ignore the way his muscles stretched beneath the fabric of his clothing, and to avoid being aware of exactly where he stood and how he moved in the room. Even the sounds he made. The creak of his boots, the whoosh of the breath he blew into his hands.

He shouldn’t affect her in this way. Not when she hardly knew him. Not when she sensed his reluctance about having her here. And not the way things stood in her life.

“That wind is sharp!” he said. “Mom, this is Jill…and Sam.”

“I know,” Louise said easily. “We’ve just introduced ourselves.”

“Can you make up some beds for them while I put Highboy away?”

“You’re not taking him out again later?”

“Going to look at the engine on the old pickup instead,” he said, and Louise nodded but didn’t say anything.

Jill realized that her arrival must have caused a change in plans, casually communicated between son and mother. But she understood too little about ranch life to know if it mattered. She realized also that she’d be even more of a nuisance if she protested.

No, please, don’t hold off birthing those ten dozen calves, roping those six hundred steers and mending that twenty mile fence on my account!

Gray disappeared back out the kitchen door and his mother went off to set up a bed for Sam. He would be in it within minutes, Jill knew. Seated listlessly on her lap, Sam was only eating the soup because she was spooning it in. It smelled so good, and her own stomach was selfishly clamoring for its share.

Before the bowl was finished, Sam pushed the spoon away and Jill didn’t force the issue.

Louise McCall was back.

“All ready for him,” she said. “I did yours, too, so as not to disturb him later on. Now, what else do you need before you get him settled?”

“Just a glass of water, please,” Jill answered. “I want to give him some Tylenol, and he likes to wash away the taste afterward. Sam, sweetie, can you sit here while I find the Tylenol in our bag?”

He nodded, and sat obediently in the chair Jill had just vacated. From the far end of the hallway, as she rummaged around in their big canvas travel bag for the medicine, she heard Louise talking to him in a casual kind of way.

“I’m going to be here in the house all afternoon, little guy, so if you need anything you let me or your mom know, okay? And I should tell you, we have a cat might come and sleep on your bed, Sam. You like cats? Yeah, they’re interesting creatures, aren’t they? This one’s old. She doesn’t hunt anymore, just likes to find the warmest spot in the house and go to sleep. Will you mind if she does that on your bed?”

Bless her! Jill thought. She must be wondering who in heaven we are and why we’re here, but she hasn’t asked a single question about it. Instead, all she wants to know is whether Sam feels safe with cats….

And apparently Sam did, because the old tabby was already making herself comfortable on Sam’s trundle bed as Jill got him undressed and snuggled into his stretchy pajamas, and Sam didn’t object. Instead, as he slid between the covers, he croaked a tender “Hello, Firefly.”

He curled his body to make room for the animal, whose purr was so loud it almost made the bed vibrate. Within seconds the two of them were lying there with eyes closed, heading for sleep.

Tear-blinded and shaky once more, Jill pulled the faded, handmade quilt a little higher around Sam’s shoulders and gave him a soft kiss. He was safe and cherished now in a way she hadn’t dared to imagine an hour ago.

He’d probably be well again by the day after tomorrow, she decided. It was hope rather than science.

She went to the window, passing a neat pile of cardboard boxes, labeled with a black felt-tip pen. “Dad’s office,” read several. “Grandma’s albums,” said a couple more. A draught of warm air wafted up through the black metal grill of the heating vent in the floor, contrasting with the chilly vista through the window.

The clouds had lowered and thickened further, and had paled to a dull white which shrouded the tops of the mountains. Wind whipped the tethered canes of the roses and combed through the needles of the pines like distant singing.

Gray was coming across the yard. His hat was jammed down to cover his ears and his shoulders were hunched. His strides lengthened as he neared the house, as if he couldn’t wait to get inside, and Jill had the strongest, strangest urge to hurry down to him, take his coat, serve him his soup and ask him about his day, as though she belonged here.

Considering that she was here to ask for a divorce, so she could be free to say yes to Alan, none of what she felt made any sense.

She made a stop at the bathroom on the way downstairs and noted that it resembled the rest of the house—old and shabby but scrupulously clean and brightened with homey touches that could only have been made by a loving hand.

When she reached the kitchen, Gray was at the table, chewing on warm corn bread and spooning in a huge bowl of soup.

“…couldn’t have gotten it done this afternoon, anyhow, because it was a bigger problem than I’d thought,” he was saying. “Wylie can’t have checked it like he said he had.” He hadn’t heard or seen her arrival yet. “I’m going to have to bring you and Grandpa Pete with me, Mom, and I’m not sure how we’re going to get the truck up there with the gear. ’S why I want to fix that oil leak and check the transmission, because otherwise we could get ourselves well and truly stuck.”

Catching sight of Jill in the doorway, Louise McCall asked at once, “How is he, honey?”

Gray stopped eating and looked up at Jill. He gave a little nod of greeting, then watched her face with his dark eyes for a moment, before flicking his gaze downward. He hadn’t waited for her reply to Louise’s question. Didn’t seem to want to know.

“He’s asleep by now,” she said. “Along with…with Firefly.”

Ah, don’t cry, Jill! she thought to herself angrily. Why is this happening?

“It’s stupid,” she went on, wiping tears onto her sleeve. “To cry about it, I mean. But I’m so grateful. Even your cat is making us welcome!”

“Well, why wouldn’t we, Jill?” Louise said courteously. Then her curiosity got the better of her at last and she asked, “Are you in some kind of trouble, honey?”

“Mom, let’s leave this till later, okay?” Gray growled, going back to his meal.

Both women ignored him. Jill fixed her gaze steadily on Gray’s mother and said, “I was. At one time. And Gray helped me out. Which created a problem of its own, that I need help with. I promise I’ll trouble you as little as I can. Sam getting sick was something I hadn’t foreseen. It means we’re going to be with you for a few days, when I’d been hoping I could start for home tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Louise said. “Please don’t.”

Her son didn’t add the same assurance.

A silence fell, slightly awkward, as they finished their soup, which tasted every bit as good as it smelled. Gray wolfed down three bowls of it, along with substantial hunks of corn bread. He spoke just once more, to ask, “Grandpa’s not coming back for lunch?”

“He took sandwiches and coffee,” Louise answered. “Wants to get those cows moved down today.”