Kentucky Groom by Jan Scarbrough Page A

and you by disguising yourself as a penniless stable groom.”
    “I haven’t hurt anyone by my actions,” Jay said.
    The fire seemed to leave Carrie’s face, snuffed by his denial.
    “Only me,” she said.
    Jay stared after Carrie as she left the room. Having heard the hitch in her voice, he realized that she was telling the truth. He had hurt her.
    * * * *
    Had she been too harsh on Jay? Carrie shaded her eyes from the glaring afternoon sunshine. A light film of perspiration had broken out along her upper lip, and she felt the crevice between her breasts growing damp. She didn’t care about the heat. For some reason she welcomed it, welcomed its piercing honesty. Its consistency.
    Lowering her hand, she gripped the rough railing of the paddock fence. In the distance Mary’s horses grazed with dreamy contentment. She envied these creatures their placid existence. Food, water, a run along the pasture fence. Basic elements. Not like the complications that crowded her life.
    Tomorrow she would bring Jay home to her borrowed house with its borrowed furniture and cheap decorations. Carrie clutched the jagged surface of the railing. How would she cope with a man whose doctors wouldn’t let stay by himself? A man who still had the power to ignite her emotions.
    Her fingers bit into the wood. How could she offer Jay her love? She had told Carter she loved him. And she did. But at the same time, she knew she couldn’t trust him. It was a curious ambivalence.
    Carrie let out a long sigh. She’d thrown out a challenge to Jay. Forgive your father.
    What had made her do that? Was it because, in her heart of hearts, she believed he would never find a way to forgive his father? If he did, she would be forced to deal with her own lack of mercy. Perhaps she didn’t want to forgive Jay, for in doing so, she would have to deal with her own emotions. Was she afraid to love again so soon after Tate’s death? This revelation was like a heavy weight. Carrie could hardly breathe.
    She had loved Tate once upon a time, loved him so much that she didn’t protect herself when it had counted. Yet somehow, theirs had been a cheerless, though dutiful marriage. Carrie had to admit that her husband had been an honorable man. He’d married her and provided for her and their daughter. Their love had been little more than swift, mistaken passion. It had died with the birth of Jesse. Would the love she now experienced die the same kind of hapless death?
    Carrie turned her back on the horses and pushed away from the fence, striding briskly back to the dreary, doublewide mobile home. As she walked, her mind played hopscotch over the ironies of life, the ironies no adult ever revealed to a child.
    For no matter how hard you try, your life never ends up like you plan when you were growing up.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Ten
     
     
     
    Wildwood Stables
Old caretaker’s house
     
     
    Stretching out his legs on the coffee table, Jay rested his shaved head on the top of a worn living room sofa. Shutting his eyes, he honed in on the dinner-making sounds coming from the kitchen—the sizzle of frying hamburgers, clatter of dishes, Jesse’s laughter. He was overpowered by a sharp sense of smell—grease from the burgers, lemon from newly polished wood, the sweet smell of Carrie’s perfume that drifted like a specter throughout the double-wide, prefabricated home.
    He was staying with Carrie for the next few days before going back to his apartment over the stables. Was he up to the challenge?
    Jay was determined to win back Carrie’s love and knew full well he must court her again. It had been easy the last time. She had been open and trusting. Now she was closed off, distant. He regretted that distance. Somehow, he would overcome Carrie’s misgivings and win her trust back.
    Then the smoke alarm went off.
    Jesse screamed a bloodcurdling scream that penetrated the recesses of Jay’s heart. He jumped to his feet. A thin layer of smoke from frying