Brett was confused and was silent all the way home, Maisey recognized his broodiness and watched out the window, her new hat on her lap. She grew more nervous when he slammed the truck door getting out. Fear crept into her mind as she watched him slam open the shed and she hurried inside to her room.
Huddled in the corner behind the bed, suddenly she was back in a house where Luke stormed and yelled. She cowered expecting a chair to slam into the wall or a light fixture. She tried to tell herself Brett wasn't Luke, to shake herself out of the fear: she buried her face in her knees and hugged the wall.
"You coming Mace? I've got the gear loaded." Brett came into her bedroom doorway when he she didn't respond. Scanning the room he stopped dead: the jovial expressions of that morning were gone, her face was pale, her eyes distant. "Maisey, what happened? was someone in here?" his tone was calmly controlled, she shook her head, "you're safe here," he reminded her and her eyes darted, "oh sweet Maisey I wish I could kill the bastard for doing this to you."
"You were angry and slammed the doors," she said finally, numb, "it's a silly thing but slamming doors means..." she shuddered as Brett gathered her close and held her.
"I wasn't angry, " he promised, "just confused, I didn't mean to slam the doors." Maisey was surprised she let him near her, "it's a lot to take in: you like this, you when you're here, and then a very different you at the feedlot, I couldn't process it."
"Anna likes him, " she said softly, continuing to let him hold her, while he dispelled her terror, "she's done so much for me I had to help her. "
"But in the same breath laid claim to me and threw me to the wolves." His tone was harsh, "Mace I really care about you, you're family, but it's more than that. and yet I'm not stupid, I know it's not romantic but yet I don't really want to dance with Addie or anyone else. I've never had this problem before and I don't really know how to deal with the warring emotions."
Maisey really pulled away and put space between them, "can we go to the fence stuff now?"
"Only if you're sure you're up for it," he told her.
The woman was damaged, deranged and he was a jerk, Brett kicked himself. He shouldn't have told her, but he was so torn. She trusted him: let him be the one to comfort her, but she couldn't want more. Not only was it too soon but it could never work. They drove in silence through the field.
Maisey soaked in the view having never been to that part of the ranch before. They were on the furthest end of town from Medicine Hat, and being Alberta it was more flat than anything. She could see Ned's tractor and further off the tiny moving forms of cattle. Her eyes were still haunted.
Her shrink called it hero attachment. He'd found her, he'd helped her now he thought he felt more for her than he did. She needed him but she didn't want him to fall for her: she would never want that again. Luke had destroyed her inside. Or maybe she was still acting like a victim and needed to stop?
She remembered how comfortable she'd been around Lucas, true that Anna had been there, but Anna was right: he had been flirting and it hadn't bothered her. Even going into the store hadn't been as bad that second day as the first. She hadn't bolted or panicked when he did. So, she inventoried and categorized: it wasn't men that upset her, it was certain noises, sounds, situations.
She listened as Brett explained what needed to be done and then watched as he put on long leather gloves to work with the barbed wire they'd bought. For hours she marveled at the strength in his hands, in the movement of his muscles and realized she'd been wrong. She loved watching him, being held by him when she was scared or anxious, being around him, but she couldn't, shouldn't and wouldn't let herself let him know.
"Want to try?" Brett offered for about the tenth time, and this time she nodded. Surprised by the change of mind Brett helped her put on gloves and showed her how to hold the pliers. He had to stand intimately close in order to help her set her hands right and couldn't help but feel the shiver that ran down her spine and smell his shampoo in her hair. "make sure you have it gripped as tight as you can or it will snap back and hurt you." he reminded her, "that's it, keep it tight, now's the tricky part: holding it there while you staple it in place."
"Or I can hold it, you can staple it," she told him, "I remember dad saying this was a 2 person job when he had to do it." Maisey held perfectly still, accutely and uncomfortably aware of Brett in her personal space.
Brett stapled the fence and agreed, "it's easier for sure, I'm just not used to having help." he admitted.
Without waiting till be told or asked, Maisey started on the next strand and waited patiently for Brett to staple. A silent routine began to form as they completed the repair for that section.
"You sure you're ok if I go back to my social life?" he asked. Maisey nodded, she wasn't ready for meeting more people but she knew he needed to get on with things. "Alright, it means I won't be around most nights, I wasn't before."
"I'm a big girl, Brett, I'm used to being alone, that was one thing I got out of the whole mess. Besides, Ned is around if I need anything and he's a much more challenge crib opponent."
Brett laughed and Maisey was relieved to hear none of his earlier frustration. She took the gloves off with a wince, this being the first hard job she'd done with them since they'd healed. She hid them from Brett, admiring the two blisters that had developed but not wanting him to fret. She liked the care he took of her, she admitted to herself, but she couldn't be more than a sister or a friend and she worried if he didn't get back to normalcy that he'd want her to be.
She tried to refuse to let him open her truck door but her glowered at her until she laughed. A sudden realization hit her, "I forgot to prep for dinner."
"There's enough leftovers to hold us for a week, " Brett drove toward the house, "We'll manage. You should soak your hands in warm water and baking soda, " he told her, "When I first started working the farm that's what Ned told me to do every night, kept the stiffness and swelling down. And tomorrow you need to keep using them no matter how sore they are or how many blisters you've got." When they got back to the house he wouldn't let her help unload, "Go soak your hands," he ordered with a smile, "before your muscles decided they're done with you. You just worked for three straight hours with no build up: go rest."
She wasn't going to win the arguement, so walked away. Ned was busy heating up chili and taking left over cornbread from the oven when she came in. She liked the old man, he didn't ask questions and didn't say anything unless it had a purpose. Mostly he kept to himself. Setting out the baking soda and putting a pot of water on to heat was painful as she tried to bend her fingers, Ned chucked and shoed her toward the table, "Ned," she asked softly, "Would you tell me about your wife?"
She watched his face as he looked lovingly at the one picture on the fridge: there was pride and love shining there as well as sorrow. "Dear sweet Lizzy," he stirred the chili before scooping out a bowl for himself. "She died almost ten years ago," he told her, "Brett had been with us since he was five, that woman treated him like he was our very own. She loved to sit out on that swing Brett fixed up for you and watch the sunrise and read or knit. She worked as hard as the men did, sometimes harder, and she never complained." He chewed thoughtfully. "Her daddy was another matter, she'd been high society in Calgary: he owned some business, I can't remember what now, but she was a bauble to him not a child. When she left and refused to come back and leave me he threatened to cut her out if his will. She didn't care. You remind me of her."
"I can't see any wife of yours broken and damaged from abuse and grief," she challenged.
Ned placed the bowl of soda water in front of her and tsked at the blisters he saw as he looked them over before putting them into the water, "Maybe not but hard working, dependable, kind, gentle, skilled, and e easy to like and trust." Maisey flushed at the praise, "Brett said you'd been asking about her garden she used to grow tomatoes and carrots, lettuce, rhubarb, herbs, peas and beans in it. While Brett and I tended to the farm she tended to our nourishment, canning and pickling and to the chickens and pigs."
"Do you mind if I get it ready for next season?"
"You going to be here that long?"
"I think so," she nodded, "Doc Andy thinks the Bogs is a good place to heal and I can't say I haven't anywhere else to go or anywhere pressing to be."
"Alright then," he nodded, "it'll be a lot of work."
"I can learn."
Ned smiled, "I believe you can."