Once a Rebel

After watching the eleven o’clock news, Susan curled up with Chocolate. A light burned beside the bed, illuminating the room, casting a white sheen over the book in her hand.

The Lab burrowed deeper beside her. He was more than a blanket hog. His body was pressed so close to hers, he could have been her conjoined twin.

“I can’t concentrate,” she told him as she closed the novel and placed it on the nightstand.

She couldn’t quit thinking about Ethan.

The dog yawned, and she scratched his ears, wondering if his master was in bed. Which wasn’t a good sign. If her mind strayed too far in that direction, she would start obsessing about Ethan, letting him consume her, as he did when they were young.

No, she thought. She hadn’t earned a Ph.D. in psychology to become her own patient all over again. Been there, done that, she told herself.

Then why not analyze Ethan instead? That wasn’t the same as obsessing about him, and she had every right to figure out what he was up to.

Why did he want to sleep with her so badly, especially after dodging her teenage advances? Was it a hard-hitting sexual conquest? A man thinking with his penis? A guy who wished he’d nailed the bad girl all those years ago?

On a primal level, that was a definite possibility, something an adult male might consider. But for an elusive boy who’d wanted to make everything better, to heal her rebellious heart, it seemed out of character.

So maybe he was trying to bandage those old wounds. Not consciously, but deep down, where it counted. Where he’d needed her as much as she’d needed him.

But how could she be sure? Ethan had always kept his feelings to himself. Unlike her, who’d rammed her emotions down everyone else’s throats.

A light knock sounded at the door, and Chocolate lifted his head, his sleepy eyes going wide.

“It’s me,” Lily said through the wood.

“Come in,” Susan told her.

The older woman entered, then smiled at the dog, who thumped his tail in a friendly greeting. “I see your companion found a cozy spot.”

“More than cozy.” Susan scratched his ears again. “He’s glued to my side.”

“I think Ryan half expected you to bring Ethan home instead.”

“I would have.” She gave Lily a teasing grin. “If I hadn’t changed my wicked ways.”

Lily chuckled, then sat in a bentwood rocker that creaked with age. She placed her hands on the curved wood and set the chair into a soft, gliding motion. She wore a cotton nightgown and a chenille robe. Her thick hair was fastened into a single braid.

“Is Ryan asleep?” Susan asked.

“He drifted off hours ago, but I can’t seem to settle in.”

“Too much on your mind?”

“Ryan keeps telling me that he won’t let Jason Jamison hurt anyone in our family, but I can’t help but worry. Ryan is ill, and there’s a madman threatening us. There’s only so much I can take.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.” Susan moved to the edge of the bed, closer to Lily. “I think Ryan is just as worried as you are, but he’s trying to remain strong.”

“To prove that he can protect us? Even though he’s dying?”

Susan nodded. She’d seen the determination on Ryan’s face, and she knew how often he consulted his security team. “I wonder when the FBI agent will contact you. When he’ll uncover Jason’s whereabouts.”

“Soon, I hope. That’s what’s so creepy. Just knowing Jason is out there.” She rubbed her arms, even though she was wrapped in a robe. “Maybe I would feel safer if Ryan wasn’t ill. Maybe that’s why I’m having such a hard time with this. I’m losing my rock, my stability.”

“You haven’t lost him yet, Lily. He’s still here, asleep down the hall.”

The older woman blinked away the tears that gathered in her eyes. “You’re right.” She let out a deep sigh. “I love him so much.”

“And he loves you.”

“Yes, he does. And that’s the most comforting feeling in the world.” She stood, smiled at Susan and Chocolate. “Thank you. It helps to talk.”

“For me, too.” She came to her feet and gave Lily a hug. The dog climbed off the bed and tried to nuzzle his way between them, wanting to be part of the embrace.

They stepped back and laughed, giving in to the moment, to the humor the Lab provided.

“He doesn’t seem like a stray,” Lily said.

“Ethan spoils him. He pretends not to, but he does.”

Lily looked up at her. “I can hardly blame him. You better hang on to that one.”

But after Lily said good-night and left the room, Susan wasn’t sure who “that one” was.

Chocolate. Or the man who’d rescued him.

Four

In the morning Susan took Chocolate for a walk down by the barn. She told herself it wasn’t a ploy to see if Ethan was around. She had no idea if Ethan was even working on the Double Crown today. He had other clients, other ranches that paid for his services.

But even so, she scanned the distance, wondering if he was working with the cattle, the animals that looked like irregular-shape dots grazing on the vast Texas land.

Not that it mattered if he was out there somewhere, restraining cows in a chute. She wasn’t searching for Ethan, she reminded herself. She was simply taking his dog out to play.

And play Chocolate did. He ran all over the place, disappearing from sight, then returning with sticks and rocks and other makeshift toys in his mouth.

At her feet he dropped a soda can he’d found, then took off again. He hadn’t gotten the concept of fetch. He didn’t wait around for her to throw his prizes so he could retrieve them. Not that she would toss an aluminum can. She picked it up, intending to throw it away, wondering who’d littered the ranch. She couldn’t imagine any of Ryan’s employees being that disrespectful, but someone had discarded it.

She heard Chocolate barking and hoped he wasn’t getting into any trouble. It appeared to be a playful sound, but he might be bugging one of the ranch hands.

Susan followed the bark and found him behind an outbuilding, along with a teenage girl who sat on the ground, puffing on a cigarette. She looked at Susan without saying a word.

Déjà vu hit her hard and quick.

She saw a reflection of her former self. Not in the girl’s appearance, but in the unaffected stare. Susan never flinched when strangers used to catch her smoking, but she remembered how her heart would pound, how she would pray that her dad wouldn’t find out.

“Do you know if there’s a trash can nearby?” she asked, keeping her tone easy. She wanted to get her point across without backing the child into a corner. She suspected the littered can had come from her.

The teenager shrugged. She wore a nondescript T-shirt, tomboyish jeans and tennis shoes. Strands of wavy brown hair escaped from a simple ponytail. A sprinkling of freckles across her upturned nose gave her face a pixielike quality and so did her petite frame. She appeared to be about fourteen or fifteen. Beside her was a blue-and-yellow backpack.