Guarded Heart (Dubicki's) (8 page)

BOOK: Guarded Heart (Dubicki's)
2.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

 

 

 

Chapter 13

 

 

Carissa felt better than she had in a long time. She thought
all men were out to hurt her, but Jesse seemed to be proving that theory wrong
at the moment, and she liked it. Jesse had called her the night before and the
night before that. It had been three days since the big fight, and that
afternoon they had a date.

She could not believe what a great guy he seemed to be. He had
thanked her profusely for coming to his fight and had wanted to know of any
date-like activity she would want to do. Before she could even think about it,
she had blurted out “horseback riding,” and he’d been great about it. They both
had the day off and were going to drive about 40 minutes outside of the city to
go to a ranch to ride horses.

Carissa had always wanted to horseback ride since she was a
kid. She’d always had a dream of having a pony, but the only time she’d ever
mentioned it to her mother, her mother had laughed and called her stupid. She
learned then to keep her mouth shut, but she still wanted to own a horse
someday. That afternoon she got to do the next best thing: ride one. Not only
that, she got to be with Jesse again. She felt amazingly in touch with her
inner child as she anticipated the date with excitement.

Jesse showed up right on time in his shiny, white pickup
truck. She never thought she’d find a guy in a truck sexy until she met him.
It’s not that she had a thing against trucks; she was just an urban girl that
liked urban things, which usually weren’t trucks. But he was a city boy, and
his love of all things country definitely did not fit in the box, so to speak,
and she liked that about him.

He came up, and she opened the door as he was about to
knock.

“Hello, sunshine,” he said to Carissa.

“Hi,” she said, her face brightening like the sun as she saw
him.

They walked over to his truck. She stepped up into the cab
of the truck, and they were off on their afternoon adventure.

When they arrived at the ranch just over a half hour later,
he came over to help her down from the truck, and they walked together holding
hands to see about getting their rides. Carissa felt like she was literally
buzzing with excitement at the prospect of being near a horse, let alone riding
a horse.

They checked in, and she was introduced to her mare,
Kathleen. Kathleen was a gorgeous, chocolate brown horse that Carissa
immediately felt connected to. She didn’t know why, but she thought this mare
could see into her soul. Somehow it just felt as if Kathleen could feel the
pain that she had endured. Carissa felt emotion bubble into her throat, and her
eyes started to swell. She wished she’d have had a horse when she was a kid.
She could have loved that horse and told her all her troubles. They could have
comforted each other and taken care of each other. She suddenly found herself
wondering if she could volunteer at a ranch or with horses in some way, like it
was somehow another calling.

“Are you okay?” asked Jesse as he noticed Carissa looked
like she was upset.

He leaned over and opened his arms to her as she let herself
lean her cheek against his chest.

“Yes, just overwhelmed, I think. I have always loved horses,
but I’ve never actually met one until today. I just feel such a connection to
them.” As she continued, he brushed the hair off her face. “I don’t know what
it is, but I’ve always found comfort thinking of horses. Maybe I just like them
better than most humans.”

He caressed her cheek with his hand. “There’s nothing wrong
with that.”

Their tour guide got them all on their saddles and assessed
their various riding levels. Jesse and Carissa weren’t the only two novices in
the group, which relieved a bit of Carissa’s insecurity at never having ridden
before.

The group started on their ride, and Jesse and Carissa were
at the back of the group since the other two novices were children that were
with their parents further ahead. As they both got used to the steady pace of
the horses and adjusted into their saddles and the routine of the walk, they
started to talk.

Jesse told Carissa about his upbringing. He explained that
he had lost his mother at a young age, and that had driven him to want to
fight. He told her about how they had owned Dubicki’s for generations, since
their grandfather moved to the United States from Poland.

Carissa had no idea why, but she felt so comfortable with
Jesse. She found it interesting that they were both without parents for very
different reasons, both devastating in their own way.

Regretfully, the tour ended an hour later. Jesse said he’d
found an old-fashioned malt shop he wanted to stop at so they could eat and have
malts. As they got back into his pickup, he asked her for a kiss. Carissa had
enjoyed his other kiss and met his lips with enthusiasm.

They held hands as they walked towards the malt shop. After
they entered, they were seated at a table near the window. It was a table with
four seats, but they sat next to each other rather than across from each other.
Carissa was impressed with the charm of the malt shop. It had a 1950s malt shop
counter setup, but there were lots of tables and booths to sit at. They even
had old music of that era playing on the overhead. The atmosphere of the place
was welcoming.

“What’s going through your head? You seem deep in thought,”
Jesse asked.

“Oh, I was just observing the charm of this place. I enjoy
looking around and taking in all the detail. One thing I love is interior
design. I can’t quite get enough of all the home makeover shows on television.”

“Kelsey likes those home and garden shows, too,” he said,
making a face that said he was not into that kind of show. “Did you ever think
about trying your hand in anything like garden or home design?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve never considered it really as a
career. I like that stuff, but I doubt I’d have much talent at it anyway. I
always say to Dana, ‘In my next life, I’m going to be an interior designer.’”
She laughed as she said it.

“Do you believe in that stuff?”

“What stuff?”

“Past lives?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I guess I never really thought about it. I
used to read a lot of books and must have read that somewhere. I like to
imagine that I was a princess in a past life or something like that, just like
I would in a dream. I’m not sure if I believe it to be much more than that,
though.”

“Yeah, I hear you. I just thought it was funny you mentioned
it because some woman that came into the bar when Kelsey and I were younger
wanted to read our tea leaves or something like that. She told Kelsey and me
that we probably had been twins and shared a womb in another lifetime. Kelsey
and I thought it was neat and told our Dad, but he quickly shut it down and
told us not to believe that rubbish. I think it’s funny, though, because Kelsey
and I like to tell other people we are twins. So do I believe in past lives?
Not necessarily. The visit from the tea leaf reader always intrigued me, though.”

“You surprise me, Jesse. I like that you have a mind that is
open to possibilities, I guess. My life hasn’t allowed me that much luxury.”

Just then, their malts arrived. His was peanut butter, hers
was Oreo cookie. They both took a moment to taste their malts. Each was
overcome with such appreciation of their respective malt that they both let out
a sigh of appreciation at the same time. They looked at each other in surprise
and laughed.

After they both had their initial fill, they settled back
into a conversation over the malts and French fries they’d gotten to share.

“So, Carissa, what was your family like? I feel like I’ve
told you all about my family; we even met at the family business. But don’t
think I haven’t noticed that I have not heard that much about your background.”

Carissa looked down. She started to wring her hands
together. She always did that when she was nervous. Jesse reached over and put
his hand on her knee.

“Carissa, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want
to.”

“No, Jesse, it’s okay. I just don’t know how to say some of
this stuff. I wasn’t wanted. My mom was a coked-out runway model who barely
acknowledged me. I don’t even think she knew who my father was. Her life was
all about how she was going to get high and stay beautiful enough to keep the
modeling jobs that supported her drug habit. When the drugs started to take
their toll on her appearance and career, she got completely lost in her
addiction.”

“Carissa, please. You don’t have to tell me this.”

“Jesse, I need to finish this, and it’s hard for me, okay?
Just please let me finish.”

He nodded as she continued. What she’d already said was so
awful, he didn’t want to imagine what else she was going to say.

“My mom’s boyfriend Ray was not a good man. He was a mean
drunk that liked to tell me I was a worthless child that no one would ever
love.” A tear started to betray her will and escaped, running down her cheek.
Jesse tried to reach over, but she pushed him away and continued, “One night
when I was 14, he came into my bedroom and raped me.”

Carissa put her head down in shame and squeezed her eyes
shut, in part to try to keep the memories from shattering her and in part for
fear that if any more tears escaped, she would never stop crying. She didn’t
know what was compelling her to tell him one of her deepest, darkest secrets.
It just felt right with Jesse.

Jesse held his arms out for her, and she let herself be
enveloped in his embrace, even though she wasn’t ready to let herself cry.
She’d cry it out when she got home. She felt raw from exposing so much of
herself, and right then she was not ready to make herself any more vulnerable.
Not in that way, and not that night.

Jesse got the bill and paid, and he reached his hand for her
to leave.

Carissa berated herself the whole way home for letting him
know so much. It was too soon to know whether Jesse really cared for her or
whether it was all just an act. She wanted to believe he cared, but she didn’t
know if she could completely trust him yet. What if she fell for him and he
hurt her? Every man she’d known had hurt her, and she just wasn’t used to a man
not wanting to hurt her. She was used to being alone, but she didn’t know if
she could take another heartbreak. She’d had enough of those when she was
growing up, enough of people hurting her.

Jesse felt the energy shift like hot to cold. One minute
they were having a great date, the next Carissa was telling him about her
horrific childhood. He had felt honored that she’d shared that with him and
that made him feel close to her. He wanted to be close to her that night. He
had the feeling that she was not used to sharing her deep wounds with anyone,
and he wanted her to know he wouldn’t hurt her. If only he could find a way to
show her.

“Can I come in with you for a little bit?” Jesse asked as
they pulled up to her place.

She seemed to think about it for a second before nodding her
approval. He got out of the truck and followed her inside. She went to make
herself some tea and offered him a beer.

“Come here,” he said as he took her hand and led her into
the living room. “Just sit with me for a little bit.”

He sat down and held out his arms to her, and she sat down
next to him.

“You’ve been really quiet since we left the diner. Tell me
what’s going on in that beautiful little head of yours.”

He called me beautiful
. She smiled. No one had ever
called her that before. She shook her head in near disbelief.

“I don’t know. I have never told anyone that much about
myself before. It makes me feel dirty and ashamed, you know. That night. Like I
did something wrong. Like I did something to deserve being raped. I know it’s
wrong, but, somehow, when that happens to you, it just stays with you. I’ve
played the details in my mind again and again and wondered what I could have
done to possibly stop it. It’s something that’s haunted me, and I wish I could
forget it.”

Carissa shifted in her seat, and, as she did, her face
visibly changed from being gripped in fear to seeming happy and without a care
in a moment’s time. She’d gotten used to being able to switch gears at the drop
of a hat in childhood and found the ability to do so handy to that day,
particularly then.

“There’s something about you that has me opening myself up
to you, and that kind of scares me. I want to let myself be comfortable with you,
and, in so many ways, I do. I just am not used to being treated this well, and,
in some ways, I want to run before you break my heart. I tried to run the night
I met you. You saw me at my worst, and there’s no way I wanted to see you again
because I looked like a complete mess that first time you saw me. It was
humiliating,” she said as she giggled at the memory of it all.

So much for never seeing him again.
She was glad that
the universe intervened on their behalf. She just didn’t know how to tell him
she could guarantee that she’d stay. She was used to having an exit plan. Used
to running at the first sign of trouble. She couldn’t tell him that her demons
might get the best of her, and, if that happened, she might take the
relationship down in her struggle.

“I wanted to push you away. I wanted to push you away that
first night, and I wanted to push you away today after I verbally puked my past
onto your lap. You just sat there and listened to me, and I could see the pain
in your face. I didn’t want to cause you pain. I didn’t want to make myself
that vulnerable to you, either.”

Jesse nodded at her, the look on his face said he wanted to
understand her, encouraging her to continue.

“Jesse, I’m scared. I’m scared of showing who I am to
anyone. I’m scared of being hurt again. I’m scared of letting anyone get close
to me. But I have this sense of knowing that it’s going to be okay; that to
stop this relationship without finding what happens would be somehow
detrimental to my future.” She drew her legs up to her chest as she finished.
It still didn’t mean that she wasn’t scared of what that all meant.

BOOK: Guarded Heart (Dubicki's)
2.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Texts Of Festival by Farren, Mick
Atlántida by Javier Negrete
Enchanted Pilgrimage by Clifford D. Simak
The Sad Man by P.D. Viner
Clair De Lune by Jetta Carleton
IBM and the Holocaust by Edwin Black