Chapter 4 ~ Tae

As Taylor sat thinking of how to explain her story to Rhett, he sat patiently beside her.

Finally, deciding to start from the beginning, she explained how most of their income stopped when she was little.

"My dad was diagnosed with colon cancer, so he was no longer able to work, and then my mom couldn't work because she had to take care of him. I was twelve when we found out, and it took a toll on our family. When I was fifteen my mom died in a car crash coming back from the store where she'd gone to get Dad's medicine. I had to get a job and start taking care of my dad."

To Taylor's dismay, Rhett's eyes were full of sadness when he began talking. "I'm sorry for your loss, even if I didn't know her, I can tell she was a good woman."

His sentiment brought tears to her eyes, but she refused to cry. She had just started her story and there was so much more she had to get through before she broke down.

"Thank you," she said wearily.

She continued to tell him how she took care of her dad and worked two jobs until she graduated. He looked at her in wonder, and it gave her the confidence to continue on with her story.

"When I turned twenty, I came home to him passed away in his chair watching the rodeo," she said, her eyes filling with tears, "it was his favorite thing to do while I was gone."

He shook his head and moved to gather her up in a hug.

"You are a hell of a woman, Tae," he told her while she cried.

After a moment, she got herself together and continued her story.

"After that, I was on my own. I continued working my jobs at the diner and down at Rex's. I worked myself into oblivion. I even tried to take online classes for a little bit, but I wasn't making enough tips to pay for them, so I had to drop out. I couldn't keep up with the payments on the house and a car, so I sold the car, and grabbed another part-time job at the grocery mart."

He stared at her as if she had grown a third eye. "My god, you've literally been a big girl and taken care of yourself haven't you," he said, cracking a small smile.

She laughed thinking about how she'd said that to defend herself when he'd attempted to help her the day before.

"I find it hard letting people help me," she said, looking down at her hands.

She wasn't going to tell him about how hard it really was for her to trust people.

The last time she'd let someone help her out, she was in high school and she fancied herself in love with a boy who said he'd help her out. He ended up breaking up with her after he saw her first breakdown. She would never let someone try to take away all her problems again.

"How'd you go from busting your ass to this?" he asked her quietly.

"The bank took the house away and made me rent it. They bumped the price way up from what my parents were paying after they bought it. I couldn't keep up," she explained, "and then the economy crashed, and there wasn't enough business for everyone to need as many workers as they had. Lay-offs were hard. I was let go from the grocery mart, but they kept me at the diner and Rex's."

He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

"Rex's was doing well until Rex was diagnosed with leukemia. They let me go two months after. The diner couldn't pay people the way could before either, so they had to let more people go. Then, the fortunate ones that were left had to pull double shifts and crazy hours. I was one of the lucky ones," she said wryly.

He shook his head and looked at the ceiling.

"I can't believe it," he said simply.

"I couldn't either. I busted my butt off for them like that for over six months," she said, thinking back to the terrible situations they had put her in. "The bank notified me after three months of being late with the bill and said they were going to take the house. I asked the owner of the diner for more hours, and he gave them to me, but then bam, the bank informed me I was to be out in a week," she said tearing up again.

Remembering the night she came home to the letter taped on the front door, brought back the terrible shock that had struck her then.

"I wasn't supposed to take anything with me, it wasn't mine to take. They said they owned it all now," she said with fury.

Looking over at him, she could see his own fury rolling off of him in waves. He was a hard man to read until he became mad. Then, his emotions were as clear as any book you'd find in the children's section of a library.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. She didn't think he was really trying to comfort her, but more himself. Over the minutes that he held her, she felt his heartbeat slow and finally become steady.

"You may be the best poker player I've ever met," he said into her hair.

She sat up confused and looked at him.

"What?" She said, not understanding.

He sat looking out the window, back on his end of the couch now. He appeared to be deep in thought when he finally cleared his throat and looked over at her.

"You were dealt with the worse hand that you could get from life, and yet you still made the most out of it," he said looking to where her hands lay in her lap.

"You could have turned out to be a crybaby that didn't know what to do with themselves, or hell, you could have become one of the women sitting down at the shelter."

He shook his head and looked into her eyes, "But besides what happened in your life, you still turned out as a hard worker who took care of herself. You didn't let life get you down. You worked for what you had, and you never let it affect your attitude. You have this happy outlook on life that you don't deserve to have."

He flustered as what he said registered, "That's not what I meant. I mean, you deserve it, but..." when he ran off course she couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"No problem," he replied stiffly.

He was sitting on the other side of the couch facing away from her. While she watched him, the realization that he was pitying her struck her. This was what she was afraid of. When people started pitying her, they started babying her, and then eventually they started to think of her as less than them. They might not realize that they were doing it, but they were.

As he got up to walk to the kitchen, her anger rose to the surface. Rhett, not noticing her attitude change, went to the refrigerator and got out the orange juice. Opening the top, he drank straight from the carton. As she watched, she tried not to gag.

"Rhett! How old are you?" she chastised.

When he turned around and gave her his I've been caught red-handed smile she shook her head in frustration.

"Don't you think you're a little old to still be drinking out of the carton?" she asked.

"It's my carton. I can do whatever I please," he grumbled.

She watched as he let out a big sigh and turned to his cabinet. She could tell by the shaking of his head, and the mumbling under his breath, that he was back talking to her. He got down a cup and started pouring a glass of orange juice. He slammed the refrigerator shut, then turned around. After stomped back to the couch and plopped down with a huff.

"Happy now?" he asked, taking a long drink of his juice.

Shaking her head she laughed at him.

"Did that hurt you to do," she prodded.

He didn't answer, but instead went back to staring out the window, and they returned to their comfortable silence.

She looked over at him as he looked out the window, and she could see the war raging in his head. She didn't know what he was thinking, but she wondered what he thought of her at this point.

He finally looked over at her and said simply, "What can I do to help?"

Anger and hurt flashed through her head. She couldn't believe that after everything she told him, he could ask her that.

Jumping up from the couch, she made it to the washroom.

"I don't want a handout from you. I do perfectly fine on my own, thanks," she said through her teeth.

She turned to see him standing with his mouth dropped open. She quickly threw on some clothes and hurried to the bedroom. Grabbing her shoes she headed back to the door.

"If you will give me a ride to a motel, then I will be out of your hair," she said.

"Umm-," he stammered.

His eyes were still on the shirt that she was wearing. Looking down she realized she put it on backward. She walked back to the hallway to switch it. When she came out, she was more irritated than she had been before. She found Rhett sitting on the couch drinking his orange juice.

She stood for a minute watching as he stared at the wall. He picked up his cup every once in a while and took a drink, but his gaze never left the wall.

On the wall was a picture. There was a young couple that had their arms around a little boy. The little boy looked up happily at the older woman. Looking closer at the little boy, she could see he had the same dimple that Rhett had.

Thinking about it being Rhett, she looked back to where he was sitting on the couch. He was still solemnly staring at the picture, but eventually, he stood up and went to the bedroom.

Thinking that he must be going to get his keys to take her to a motel, she sat down on the couch and waited.

Ten minutes later she got tired and stood up to walk around the room. She looked at the other pictures on the walls. There were only on the wall, and that was all that had been done to decorate. Straightening the pictures that had been crooked from the door being slammed one too many times, she studied them.

Looking at the picture closest to her she saw a middle-aged woman with gorgeous brown curls sitting by Rhett. She had her arms around him, and the biggest grin on her face. Looking at Rhett, she saw that he had the look of a kid that was tired of his picture being taken. The only problem was, Rhett looked to be about the age he was now. He wasn't a kid.

Wondering where he was, she started walking through the rest of the house. Looking at the clock, she saw that it was a little after four in the morning now.

Talk about a weird feeling. She felt like it was the middle of the afternoon, not the middle of the night. Their afternoon nap had screwed her built-in clock.

Moving towards Rhett's bedroom, she saw that the side door wasn't closed all the way. Looking at the door and then back at the bedroom she started thinking to herself.

"Oh, he better have not left," she mumbled.

Walking down the rest of the hallway to his bedroom, she crossed her fingers hoping he was there. When she didn't find him in the house, she became angry.

She stomped towards the side door that she had seen open, and cursed him under her breath when she realized it was still raining. Stepping out into the rain, she looked for him. Towards the north, she saw a light on. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. She could make the outline of a barn in the foggy night sky.

Getting wet from the drizzling rain, she ran back into the hose to grab one of his hoodies. Throwing on his hoodie, she turned around to head back out. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she stopped in her tracks.

His hoodie came down to her mid-thigh and swamped her. She looked up at her face. She had a madwoman look in her eyes; she could see the craze pouring out of them. Looking away, she hurried out the door to get a hold of Rhett.

Running to the barn, she tripped twice over rocks and nearly broke an ankle. The rain that was soaking into her clothes only fueled the fire that had started inside of her. As she came into the open barn door, she looked to her left and right. The wall across from her held the stalls full of horses.

As she was walking past the horses, she stopped to pet one. She didn't know if it was a she or he, but it looked at her with calm eyes and leaned into her hand. She rubbed his head and he softly neighed.

As she was scratching his chin, she heard a long line of curse words. She followed the sound of his deep voice and came around a corner to see a tractor and a couple other machines that she had no clue what their purpose was for sitting in a row.

She saw Rhett's feet sticking out from under one of the machines and leaned down to see him under it. Working diligently, he hadn't seen her come in.

She watched him continue to work on the machine, then get frustrated and throw a tool on the ground.

"That damn woman," he said as he climbed back under the machine.

At his comment, her anger surfaced.

Stomping over to the machine she stood with her feet spread apart in her power stance and put her hands on her hips. She stood over his legs where she knew he would slide out under her. She cleared her throat.

His mumbling stopped with a drop of a tool.