The Warmth of the Day

It still took me a moment to recognize the woman. The red hair was a giveaway, the small plaster that adorned her forehead a reminder that time had not healed her just yet. Isabel marshaled them both to one side of the rocker; the child had barely sat at the far end before she spotted one particular horse in the field, let out a screech and leapt to her feet. She rushed to the edge of the porch and stood in awe, the horse closest the house looked up, rippled her muscles and went back to feeding in the field.

"Mommy, can we please go see my horse?"

We all smiled. In the time she had been there she seemed to have adopted one of the rescue horses, or given the attitude of the horse since she had gone, Charlie and I had wondered if the horse had adopted her. Isabel looked at the woman, and both nodded a Mothers Club understanding. She held out her hand and the child held on as she seemed to skip towards the fence.

"You didn't give me a chance to thank you, so I asked Isabel to let me know when you got back from your trip. I picked up Maddie when school let out and we came straight here."

I shrugged my shoulders and said more brusquely than intended. "Just being neighborly, ma'am."

The woman seemed to stiffen as though what I had said offended her. Her mouth opened to say something, a noise over by the fence line stopped her and we watched her child holding Isabel's hand with the other poking hay through the fence, trying to feed the horse. Clare got up and walked towards the rail. She saw me watching her and smiled. I blushed and looked back out towards the fields.

I could tell that the harshness of my statement confused and intimidated her. She had come to know Isabelle and Charley's warmth and kindness, and I thought perhaps she might have heard in town that I was practically a full-time recluse. She looked a little hurt by my aloofness.

"The garage told me that something broke under the car causing me to lose the steering. He did tell me what it was, but since I'm not really technically minded where cars are concerned, I nodded in the appropriate places and asked when it could be fixed."

I smiled and told her I was about the same level of technicality where cars were concerned. She was easy on the eyes, that was for sure. Her high cheek bones seemed to pull your vision to her eyes so she could dissect you with them. Both of us seemed at a loss for words for a while, each looking at the antics of her little girl holding Isabel's hand as she continued to feed the horse through the fence.

"Would you both like to stay for dinner?"

She seemed to look on the question as an opening and went for it. "Will you still be here at the end of it?"

My cheeks warmed and I felt myself clutching the soda bottle just a little tighter. Another warm breeze brushed my cheek, dispelling my unease, and with a nod of my head and a smile I eventually said I would be. It took a while longer for us both to leave the porch and join her daughter by the fence-line. Isabel detached herself and told me she was off to start dinner.

I offered to show the girls around. The little girl clasped her mom's hand as we walked and talked. Strangely enough, the horse the little girl was feeding seemed to walk alongside us until the fence line ran out. I told Clare about the animal welfare groups that seemed to have the ranch's number on speed dial and the success rate we had with the horses they would bring over, more often than not, in a shocking state of neglect. I could tell the reporter in her simmered just under the surface, and seeing a story about the recluse and the horse sanctuary started to bear fruit until I told her that I would appreciate what we did here to stay between us.

The value of some of these horses meant that I would have to add a huge amount of security to the place if that fact became known. My home would then become a fortress and no longer my home. I couldn't allow that.

Faced with a story slipping through her hands she nodded in agreement. The biting of her bottom lip to stifle her anguish didn't go amiss, though. The rest of the late afternoon was all smiles as we watched the antics of little Maddie and the hold she had over that one particular horse that followed us as often as the fence-line would allow.

Dinner was actually fun, given my solitary status now within this community, Clare told us of the opportunity the local paper gave her and the impetus it gave her to move away from a dead end job and relocate close to a thousand miles from the place she once called home.

"Of course, it's easy for the young ones to find friends." She looked at her daughter who just smiled back when she realized her mother was talking about her. "Even the four-legged variety it seems."

This time we all smiled. That horse might as well have her name attached to her stall now. Although we hadn't let her ride her horse yet, we all knew that was only a matter of time. Charley had already contacted the horse sanctuary people for more details on the horse's background, or at least as much as they could legally give us. Everyone at that table wanted to connect Maddie with her horse, but not without every precaution first.

As the evening wound down and little eyes had trouble staying open, Clare got up to leave. I walked them both to the door.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening, I'm so glad you stayed for the whole meal."

I blushed, even now the gentle hints from all the adults over what an ass I was simply laid at my feet. Clare leaned in, I held out my hand to shake hers and her body crushed my hand between us as she leaned against me to kiss my cheek.

My cheek burned, and yet her kiss soothed me as I watched them leave.

*******

Charley had picked up a local paper on his last trip into town, I read it that evening since he said he had no need of it anymore. When I looked a couple of pages in and smiled at the completed crossword section, I understood why. The article on the next page kept my interest when I noticed Clare's name as the reporter. The story was about one of the children in Maddie's class; he suffered from something that had eighteen letters in it and you had to understand a heck of a lot of Latin to pronounce it.

The paper was spearheading an appeal for the child to be sent to some hospital in Houston. One of the doctors there had done a great deal of research into this disease and his treatment was showing some really good results. The families own medical insurance had already refused to cover anything but the basic costs.

Two weeks later, a man knocked at the door of Mr. & Mrs. Holdsworth, gave them his card and within two hours of sitting down the Holdsworth family were given a date that the doctor in Houston would start treatment, all expenses paid by some anonymous donor.

The family contacted Clare and she did a follow-up. That got onto the front page, this time, when Clare tracked the lawyer down he went all client confidentiality on her, other than reaffirming the support that would be given to the Holdsworth family right through post-op.

He refused to comment on anything, even when she got frustrated and asked what day it was, it seemed 'no comment' was both the day and date.

*******

I was already laughing and putting down the phone after getting my lawyers version of Clare's story when I noticed Isabel leaning against the doorframe, she handed me the paper.

"Charley has done the crossword in today's, so you can have a read of this one. You're playing a dangerous game with her. She's a reporter; it may be a local paper but don't take her for dumb."

I nodded my head, understanding her true meaning. "It was just a one-off; my tracks are covered."

Isabel just seemed to look more closely at me before saying. "Remind me of that statement when you read page two."

Watching her walk away was the easy part, with the paper now on the table I turned to the page Isabel said would challenge my last statement.

*******

Karl Edwards was a farmer on the other side of town. His wife had up and left him with both the children two years previously, and Karl was working himself into an early grave keeping the farm and his two girls alive. The school that the girls attend held a writing competition every year, and Karl's eldest won it. Since the local paper sponsored the competition, they published the winner's entry. The story Pamela Edwards wrote was like a day in the life of her father.

I had to stop reading it half way through so I could pull a drink from the refrigerator and compose myself. That man worked like a dog keeping his family afloat with nothing more than prayer that the crop he planted wasn't ruined by bad weather, blight or ten other things that farmers fear so much before he had the time to pull it out of the ground and sell it to put food on the table, clothes on his children and pay the bills.

Karl Edwards was also a fiercely proud man as well and a church goer, and as I got to the end of his daughter's story of her father, she admitted herself that neither she or her sister had ever wanted for anything. Sometimes it was at the expense of her father and she and her sister prayed each night that her daddy didn't die keeping them alive. It was obvious to me reading this that the man was going to be flooded with women looking for a man as loyal as he was.

Two weeks later, a man walked into the church looking for the Reverend Billings, at first they both sat in a pew while the lawyer talked. After a few minutes they both went into the private office at the back of the church and neither of them came out for the rest of the afternoon.

Another week went by before Karl Edwards was asked by the school to attend a meeting concerning his daughter Pamela. A woman and another man sat in the principles office when Karl got there. The woman introduced herself as Amanda Browning, the editor-in chief of Fashionet Magazine. I was told it took Karl ten minutes into the meeting before he called a halt to the discussion going any further until his daughter was present.

In essence, Amanda Browning had read the story Pamela Edwards had written for the school competition and wanted to offer her a job on the spot. The stumbling point, of course, was that she was a minor.

Although I was going on a hunch, I could tell from her essay that there was iron in that story of her life and I was gambling on that iron. When Pamela was brought up to speed on why these people were there, she looked at her father and told him she wanted what Amanda Browning and Fashionet Magazine was offering. Her father took one long look at his fifteen year old daughter and knew she meant it.

For the rest of the afternoon a deal was thrashed out between Karl Edwards, his daughter, the school and Fashionet Magazine. Pamela was to be paid just shy of what every other freelance reporter for the magazine was being paid. In return the magazine expected one story per month on farm life in the mid-west. In front of everyone in that room Pamela insisted that all her checks were made out to her dad to help ease the burden he was under.

In return, Amanda Browning would personally monitor Pamela's work and guide her until she left high school with an option of college, paid for by Fashionet Magazine in the hope that when she left college she would work for the magazine, either in-house or still on the farm as a reporter within our state.

Karl settled the afternoon on a hand shake, and the lawyer returned two days later with papers to sign. Karl, of course, retaliated and took them to the only lawyer we had in town, and once he was done reading the contract he looked at Karl and told him to sign and be quick about it.

*******

Isabel handed me the newspaper weeks later armed with a smirk, "You think you're smart don't you. She'll catch on soon enough, you mark my words."

The newspaper was already folded to the story written by Clare about Karl Edwards. Clare went back to see Karl a few weeks after the dust had settled on the publication of Pamela's essay. Karl had received hundreds of letters from women wanting to meet him, he had gone on a few dates on the insistence of both his daughters. After a few false starts he was going steady with a woman from Cedar View, a town ten miles over.

Karl and Pamela, with her sister in tow, of course, had gone to see Amanda Browning at Fashionet Magazine and the visit just reinforced Pamela's view that she made the right choice and wanted to be a reporter more than ever. The only argument came when Pamela found out that her father was splitting her wages in three: he banked one part for farm bills, another part for her college fund and opened an account for her at the bank, since Karl believed that she was still entitled to have spending money, either at the moment or for a future time.

Even though Fashionet magazine was going to pay her entire college fees, he still insisted that the money she was earning for college be included in the total. I smiled when I finished reading her story. From what Charlie was saying, the whole town was buzzing with the news and reading about it in the paper just reinforced it. Everybody seemed to be relieved that something was going in Karl Edwards favor, at last, not to mention Pamela getting her dream job.

Looking at the time meant putting the paper down and grabbing a soda from the fridge on the way out to the porch, the warmth of the day was coming to a close, Lisa would here shortly and as I waited for the breeze that would announce her arrival, I thought back to my own involvement.

Karl Edwards was a deeply religious man at heart; my own lawyer had to get Reverend Billings on side with all this before a friend of mine dropped Amanda Browning the essay that started all this. It was the good reverend who Karl went to for advice. The downside, of course, was that Reverend Billings now knew of my involvement.

*******

The knock on the open door to my office caused me to turn and see that the game was up. Clare was leaning against the door staring at me, Isabel had that 'told you so' smirk when she turned and left us to it.

"I admire what you have done, but it needs to stop."

With a shrug of my shoulders, something I suspect she hadn't anticipated, I just nodded my head in agreement and turned back to the program I was working on. My intention was to save what I had been working on for the last four hours and close the computer down.

Clare seemed to think I had set out to give her the cold shoulder. "Dammit, don't ignore me when I'm in the same damn house as you."

I still set about saving the program and closing my computer, as it wound down I turned to look at Clare. "This program is worth just north of two hundred thousand dollars, I'm sure whatever you have to say to me can wait two minutes while I save it, rather than lose it."

Her mouth made the shape of an O, her neck went a cute shade of red. She even watched until the screen went dark, it also gave her time to calm herself.

"I'm sorry." Her words were almost inaudible.

Making sure she followed me out of my office was important to me; although I left the door open, even Isabel knew not to enter. She called it my man cave, but to me it was the divide between work and my normal life. Clare followed me into the day room. She didn't seem inclined to sit until I did first. Isabel appeared with drinks and I sat and waited for the storm to start.

Clare nodded her thanks to Isabel for her drink, her hands may have rested on her lap, but her fingers gave away her anxiety.

"What you're doing is admirable, but it's also dangerous. Please stop."

Silence was my only ally at the moment. My thoughts hardened a little, as even I waited for Clare to continue.

"You can't play with people's lives like this. In effect you manipulated Karl Edwards into taking money by using his own daughter against him."

It was interesting to watch. Clare seemed to be torn over something and when her eyes met mine, I just knew she was going have another rant so I forestalled her.

"I'm hungry, would you like something to eat."

Even I had to admit it was interesting watching her many different reactions to my question.

"No, no thank you." She stammered.

At that point I stood, catching her unprepared.

"Well as I said, I'm hungry and since you're not staying to eat then I think we're done here."

Isabel watched from the kitchen as I walked Clare to the door, anticipating that she would try one last time. I had already rehearsed in my thoughts, my own reply. Clare stopped at the top of the steps; it was the reporter in her that came out again.

"I meant what I said..."

Interrupting her stopped her going any further when I said. "Yes I remember, stop interfering in other peoples lives. Kinda like what you do and call it being a reporter."

Man wasn't she pissed. It would have been futile to apologies for my remark and yet the fact I made no attempt to, simply fuelled the fire burning in her. Clare was right, and having her confront me with it all and despite trying so hard to keep a distance from everything, I had been found out. It wasn't my place to interfere in peoples lives and my parting remark to Clare wasn't even in the ball park of acceptable.

Clare was already past shock at my words and heading full tilt towards wanting to punch me, if her facial expressions were anything to go by, and as I resigned myself to my life of solitude my peripheral vision spotted movement.

*******

"STOP..." Charlie's voice cut between us, causing us both to take a step back. "Just stop."

Charlie was standing at the furthest edge of the porch and out of both our direct line of sight.

"You're both wasting so much time with all this. Just, please stop."

Clare opened her mouth to defend herself; Charlie just glared at her and what words came out sounded like gibberish. Charlie waved anything further she was going to say away as he looked at both of us, his eyes then settled on something else and I turned to see Isabel still standing at the other end of the porch.

Her facial features were difficult to read at the best of times, now she just looked at her husband and like us we waited for him to continue.

"We loved our daughter and when you came into her life you truly were the son we always wanted. You treated our girl like a princess and she loved you to the very end."

Charlie's words held no anger, at least not on the level he had when he first got between Clare and I. My father-in-law told us both of the conversations he had with Lisa, even more of those towards the end of her life.

"She loved you so much, son, and the one thing she feared the most was that you would follow her." This time his eyes held the anger of his statement barely in check. "And you damn near wanted to on a couple of occasions didn't you?"

The gasp would have come from Clare since Isabel knew he was right. All I could do was nod in acknowledgment.

It also turned Charlie's attention towards our guest. "And you. The second your husband found out you were pregnant he cut and ran."

Clare went scarlet and although her head nodded, she waited for me to voice an opinion. I didn't need to, since Charlie beat me to it by calling her husband an asshole. It seems the only words Clare got out was "ex-husband" before my father-in-law continued by not only agreeing with her, but asking why she then proceeded to paint all men with the same brush. I sure had to wonder if those long trips he took into town had yielded all this information.

"So there you are, hating men, and the one man that can prove you wrong is so hung up on a dead wife that he can't see you. That's got to hurt."

Her face hardened and for the first time I actually felt for Clare, more so when we all watched her eyes mist up. This was a side of Charlie I had never seen before, and sure wondered if Isabel had either.