AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You don’t look like her anymore,” he said. He handed her a mirror, and it was true. With the bangs and new color, the resemblance had all but disappeared.
He went out into the hallway and came back with a large, wrapped box. “I got you something.”
Veronica tugged at the red ribbon, and then tore through the gold wrapping paper. Inside the box, wrapped in tissue, were a pair of cowboy boots in her size.”
“I prefer you without shoes, but when you need them, you can wear them. Will you run from me?”
“Where would I go?”
“Good answer, princess.”
She put the boots on and went outside. The temperature had started to turn warm again, the first hint of spring easing its way into the air. She lay in the grass, looking up at the sky and the clouds that had turned fluffy again. She stared up at it for a long time, her mind going back to that first night on the road when she’d stopped and stared up in awe at the stars, and then the day of the branding, where she’d fallen asleep watching the clouds blend and merge through the euphoria of the endorphin rush. She’d felt open and free.
Luke joined her a few minutes later and lay beside her. “What are you thinking about?”
“You were right, I love this sky. I love this ranch.”
“Thank me for bringing you here,” he said. The day he’d told her she’d politely thank him by the time he was finished with her flashed through her mind.
“Thank you, Master.”
A tear slid down her cheek, but Luke didn’t see it. He seemed preoccupied with pretending he wasn’t crazy—as if he could allow her to be a separate person from his tragic love. But the gestures: the hair, the boots... they meant nothing. When he’d looked at her, after Freida was finished... it hadn’t been with the same intensity as before. There had been a note of disappointment that had registered in his eyes for a moment before quickly flitting away.
No, Veronica saw clearly. Soon her roots would grow out, and Luke would let them. She’d be back to the way she’d looked before, as if today had never happened. She’d traded one slavery for another, one lie for another, no more in control of her destiny than before—no matter how much hedonistic pleasure this version brought her. The irony of it all was that she could have been the gold standard, but now she’d stand in the shadow of a ghost, forever clawing for the love and approval that had so easily been given to the other woman.
She blinked back the tears before they could overwhelm her. If he couldn’t love her, this had to be enough. The pleasure. The clean air and peace. The freedom from her debt. As she looked up, bright blue with dots of cotton candy clouds filled her vision. In the end, the sky was the only thing that was real.
EPILOGUE
LUKE
Iget up, leaving Ronnie lying in the grass staring up at the sky. She seems lost in thought and maybe a little sad. I didn’t ask her about her hair before I did it. I thought it would make her look less like Trish. It did, but I was still disappointed because now she doesn’t look like Ronnie, either. And I find that bothers me far more than I expected. But hair grows, and dye isn’t permanent. It was a failed experiment.
I go inside the house and sit at a small desk in my room. I can see her out my window, just lying there under the sun. I wonder what she’s thinking about. I pull some paper out of the desk and sit down to write my weekly letter to Trish.
* * *
Dear Trish,
I’ve triedto keep my life with Ronnie separate, and not talk to you about her, but there are things I need to say. I know it was crazy and wrong to take her, but she just looked so much like you.
Ronnie feels you—the ghost hovering between us. I don’t think she realizes just how real your presence is here. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night because your damned cold feet are pressed up against my legs like they always used to be. But then I turn on the light, and of course you’re not there.
A few times I’ve felt the bed shift, like you were getting up. I’ve smelled you in the halls of this house long after all scents should be gone. It’s why I still sometimes make Ronnie sleep across the hall in her own room because I’m afraid if she’s in here with me, you’ll stay away.
On the nights I couldn’t sleep, when I went to go check on the horses, I’d hear your voice whispering in the wind, talking to them, and their whinnying reply. But when I reached the horse barn, you were already gone. You’re always already gone.
I sometimes hear our baby crying in the room where you bled out. I got there too late, so I don’t know if the baby was ever alive. Do babies become ghosts if they never got to take their first breath? I don’t know. But sometimes I hear our little girl crying. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before. I would have loved to teach her how to ride a horse and feed the chickens. She would have loved the ranch and all the animals. And you would have been the best mom.
We were on the edge of the most perfect thing—you and I—and then fate ripped it all away. I blame myself. I should have made you go to the hospital to have the baby. I should haveknownyou were having the baby instead of working too long outside when you were so close and ready to pop.
And then other times I’m just so fucking mad at you for doing this to me. You would have survived the hospital. I don’t know if the baby would have. I don’t know why she died. But it’s possible we could have been a happy family. Instead you made me dig your grave, and even though I love you, a part of me will never be able to forgive you for that.
When Ronnie tried to hide her injury, it enraged me and terrified me at the same time. Intellectually I knew she wasn’t going to die from it, but it didn’t stop that panicked feeling inside my chest that didn’t unwind until we were safe inside the hospital waiting room with help just down the hall.
I’ve known you were here all this time, watching over me, maybe judging me—especially more recently. With Ronnie, she was just a way to have you back, you know? A real, physical way. Not these smells and whispers and footfalls creaking down the hallways at night. Not these out of the corner of my eye glimpses that disappear the moment I turn my head to try to catch just one more glimpse of you. Someone solid that I can touch and feel. Someone I know is real.
The first night she snuck into my room I’d woken out of a dead sleep, and when I grabbed her wrist, I thought it was yours. I thought finally you had materialized and come back to me. I’d forgotten what I’d done, that of course it was this other woman I’d brought in as some cheap replacement. When I’d flipped her onto the bed, and stared down into her face and realized it wasn’t you, I turned her over my knee and spanked her for that—for giving me that false hope.
