Gritting her teeth, she conjured up Richard's face. She tried to picture her husband's gray eyes looking at her with love and tenderness. But she only heard his voice.

"You're about as useless as a wife could be, Alex." He was mocking, intentionally hurtful now, the words like needles in her lungs as she breathed in and out.

"You'd be absolutely nothing if it weren't for me. Just remember that one, the next time you get all uppity and self-assured. You're only a back-woods, West Virginia shit shoveler, just like my mother warned me. I wish I'd listened."

Alex clenched down on the acrid memory, cutting it off sharply before it could continue, and wrapping her fingers in the stallion's honeyed mane, she concentrated on nothing at all.

Waiting for Eden ~*~*~*~*~*~.

Chapter 9.

Alex awakened slowly. The crimson glow of the alarm clock on her nightstand read 2:30 a.m. She rolled on her side, her hand coming to rest on the empty pillow beside her.

A pang of longing shuddered its way through her body. Loneliness was here to stay. Richard was gone, and she was making her way on her own now. Even though he was cruel, he was there. He was the only one truly there. Ever.

But then Elizabeth had crashed into their world. Blond and slender, with a better pedigree, a first-class education, and all the swanky class Alexandra could never achieve.

Sighing, she squeezed her eyes closed against the intruding thought, and burrowed deeper beneath the soothing warmth of the comforter.

A raspy creak brought her eyes swiftly open again. Through the deep shadows, Alex could discern the slow movement of something... her bedroom door. It was swinging open. With a gasp of fear, she pushed herself into a sitting position and grappled for the light. Her shaking fingers found the knob turned, but the bulb remained dark.

"Who's there?" Her breath was coming in sharp pants. A face emerged from the darkness, and she gasped. "Richard?"

The room was quiet. Yet she would never find sleep again until there was light. Alex sat up, pushed off the bed, and padded her way across the darkened room. She heard a sound again, a movement, a rasp.

Her breath came faster now. She moved out into the hallway, trailing her hand along the wall, seeking a light switch. Where was the fucking thing? She wasn't used to the house yet.

Alex sidled along in the direction of the steps, still feeling her way along the plaster. At the top of the stairs, she encountered the switch. There was another noise from below. She drew a breath and flipped it on.

At the base of the stairs stood a woman, looking up at her. Alex took in long grey braided hair, a rose colored dress, quite old fashioned, and large brown eyes. Scared eyes.

The woman lifted her finger to her lips.

"Ssssshhhhhhh."

Alex closed her eyes and screamed.

Alexandra realized that she was sitting upright, in bed, with her hands stretched out in front of her.

Gasping raggedly for breath, she fumbled again for the bedside lamp. This time it turned on. When light flooded the empty room, and she realized what had happened, she closed her eyes in relief. It was a vivid nightmare, only a horrible dream. She'd not had one so frighteningly intense since her childhood.

Still trembling, she glanced at the clock. It was four thirty-eight. There would be no more sleep for her tonight. No way. Alex rose from her bed, and donned a warm flannel and coveralls. Woodenly, she moved to the bathroom, rinsing her face with cool water and tying her hair in a pony-tail.

The wearied, familiar ache of depression settled on her, like a hand on her shoulder, cold, firm, and unwilling to let her go. Richard's hand. If only she could grieve for him, a pure and heartfelt emotion. She could understand grief, and thus handle it, accept it, and let it run its course. But it was so much more than that!

I think it might be time for a shrink, Alex-girl, a voice drawled sarcastically in her head. You're a prime candidate for anti-depressants if you ask me. Or a straight-jacket. It was a cruel voice, mocking her without pity. It was the voice of her guilt.

Alex wandered down the stairs and placed of pot of water on the stove. Tea, she needed tea. Hot, searing, invigorating, wakening.

A shrink, Alexandra. She tried to push the voice away, as she had in the months following the accident, but found she no longer had the strength. Of course a shrink would see right through you, there'd be no pity for you there either, Alex-girl. A shrink would see through your act, to the core of the egotistical, self-righteous, yet low-bred bitch-just wanting and needing pity and pills.

Alex slammed the coffee mug on the counter, and a healthy crack appeared along the base. "Lovely." A hot rush of tears threatened. She picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. It rang five times before she got an answer.

"Hello?" The voice coming through the phone was scratchy and thick with sleep.

"Hi Mom."

"Alexandra? It's... five o'clock in the morning, what- are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, Mom. Physically, anyway. Just needed to hear your voice I guess."

"Oh." Alex heard a ragged yawn from the other end. "I was sound asleep."

"I'm sorry mom. I'll let you get back to bed."

"It's all right Alexandra. I'm up now. What's bothering you?"

"Oh, I just had a nightmare... you know how that is. When do you think you can come up and see my new place?"

"Well, Florida is a pretty good hike from Pennsylvania, Alex. I have a trip to Arizona planned for next week with Sam Ash. Remember him?"

Alex fidgeted. Since retiring to Florida at the early age of fifty-six, Rhonda Carter had been on a whirlwind tour of single, wealthy men in varied stages of physical decay. It all seemed terribly sad to Alex, but somehow, it seemed to make her mother happy. Rhonda had been a poor and single mother for so many years.

"I sort of remember him. Mom, I'll let you go back to bed. Call me when you can get away." Alex's conversations with her mother never went any deeper than this. What had she expected?

"I will, Alexandra. Good-bye, honey."

"Mom?" Alex caught her before she could hang up. "Have you heard anything from Dad by any chance?"

"Alex. When are you going to let the past lie in peace? You know that awful man is either-"

"Dead or in prison. Yeah, I know mom. Just checking."

Alex placed the phone in the cradle and made her tea. Her father had left them when Alex was only six. Her memories of his face were blurred and disjointed at best. He had a thick head of hair, a shade darker than her brown-gold locks. That was all she remembered clearly. That and the fact that he hadn't loved her enough to stay. Or call, or even send a card on her birthday.

Opening the cupboard, she reached for a box of cornflakes, but her stomach swiftly contracted at the mere thought of food. Maybe later then. Taking her mug with her, she walked to the stable.

Bold Venture greeted her joyfully, with a series of deep, hearty whinnies, anticipating an early breakfast. Alex fed him two scoops of grain and a flake of timothy, and began work on preparing several of the other stalls.

She had two broodmares coming in this afternoon, one a Quarterhorse, the other a Thoroughbred, both of excellent bloodlines. It was a start. Next spring there would be little, feisty babies to deal with. The thought gave her a small but hopeful glimmer of pleasure.

Around eight-thirty, she heard a dog barking from somewhere outside. Alex emerged from the barn in time to see Diana Sheldon walking briskly up her driveway, with a small yapping mutt of indeterminate breeding at her heels. She was carrying a basket, and Alex's stomach instantly and greedily assumed there would be food inside. It curled and rumbled heartily within her abdomen.

Resting her pitchfork against the wooden door, Alex walked to meet the generous woman with a smile on her face. "Oh, please don't tell me you brought me more food. You're spoiling my stomach!"

Diana eyed her dubiously. "It looks as if your stomach needs a little spoiling. Please allow me to indulge it."

Laughing, Alex invited her inside. The little, yellow dog preceded them regally, its stiff tail held proudly into the air, exposing a hairless and pinkly-puckered backside.

"Good Lord," Alex commented reflexively.

"This is Kiester, by the way," Diana introduced. "He's a general neighborhood nuisance. He can wait outside. I realize he's a bit.... offensive."

"Oh, that's okay. Since he's with you, he's welcome too, I suppose," Alex replied, eyeing the exposed pink flesh with budding amusement.

"Don't worry, he's clean. No cooties on that butt, I assure you." Diana laughed at her dubious expression. "When he was only six weeks old, he had an allergic reaction to one of his puppy shots. He lost a lot of his hair. For some reason, the hair on his backside never grew back in."

"Thus the name Kiester?" Alex inquired with a chuckle.

"Yeah, the boys came up with it, and the nickname, unfortunately for Kiester and I, stuck like glue."

"Boys?"

"Jamie has a younger brother, Aaron."

The two women sat down at the kitchen table and chatted comfortably for half an hour. Alex could not resist exploring the contents of the basket, and found a loaf of fresh bread, strawberry jam, and even a casserole for later. The warm bread, smothered in butter and homemade preserves, was irresistible to her.

"You are an amazing woman," Alex commented with a mouthful of bread. Deciding to try his hand at begging, Kiester rolled on his back at her feet, graphically exposing his equally pink genitals in the process.

"Cooking has become as automatic as breathing to me. The way my boys eat..." she shook her chestnut mane and laughed.

A picture of Jamie sitting next to her along the pristine, pine-shrouded stream assailed Alex's memory. He'd spoken to her of his family then, and she'd cut him off short. "Jamie mentioned that he'd lost his father. I'm so sorry," she offered cautiously.

Diana looked Alex in the eye and smiled softly. There was sadness in that smile, but it was tempered with both strength and acceptance. "Yes, my husband passed away about four years ago. It was very difficult for us, but we managed." She put her hand over Alex's softly but firmly. "So will you."

Alex tried to return the smile, but it was tremulous at best. "I don't know," she murmured.

"Did you love him very much?"

"I... I really don't know. I just don't know." The tears came then, and they were hot and relentless. Alex felt the woman's presence move beside her, and she went into the open arms without hesitation. It felt good to cry, and good to be comforted. When the torrent subsided into sniffles, Alex raised herself from Diana's arms and wiped her face self-consciously.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Diana asked carefully. "I have a good ear, and I keep things to myself. Jamie said that you seem to be having trouble."

Her face reddened suddenly. Whatever could Diana Sheldon think of her? "Did he tell you how awful I've been to him?" she asked miserably.

Diana laughed. "He did describe you as a cactus, I believe... a very prickly one. But no, he did not say that you were awful."

"I just can't seem to get my emotions under control. And for some reason, I just... I strike out when that happens."

"What could the reason be?"

"Guilt," she said quickly, without thinking.

"Guilt." Diana repeated. "So your marriage was not all roses and romance?"

Alex laughed harshly. "Hardly. He was having an affair, I was pretending to be a person that I wasn't, and I... I just don't know who I am anymore. I don't know who I was all those years. I hate that person."

"So drop her. You no longer need her protection. And to be frank, Alex, it seems to me that you've done a pretty good job of leaving her behind so far. These mountains are just what you need. They don't call it God's Country for no good reason," she added resolutely.

"I'm trying to start a new life. My own business."

"And you're doing an excellent job so far. This is a good area to set up stakes in, because our biggest enterprise in this county is tourism. We have a lot of businesses that center on hunters, but precious few that emphasize exploring these wonderful mountains on horseback. I see it working for you, Alex, I really do."

"Thank you," she offered graciously. "I hope you're right."

"But Alex, the first step to healing yourself, before you can truly move on and succeed here, is forgiveness."

"Forgiving Richard?"

"Yes. But most importantly, dropping this guilt. You have a right to change and be happy now. Any good man would want that for you."

Alex drummed her fingertips on the table, thinking. Richard hadn't exactly been a good sort of man. A strong and giving man. Like Jamie.

"Well, if I succeed in doing all of this forgiving... do you think your son might forgive me for being so... prickly?"

Diana laughed and touched her softly on the cheek. "I don't think that Jamie would be able to resist such a pretty face even if he wanted to."

"I don't want him to... detest me. I intend on treating my new neighbors like family. This, of course, includes raiding your refrigerator at will..."

They laughed together for a moment, and then Diana rose to leave, citing numerous chores to be done. "You're welcome anytime at our house, Alexandra."

After Diana had left, with Kiester in tow, happy now with a tidbit in his tummy, Alex remained at the table, rolling the conversation over and over in her mind. Her spirits had been lifted, some of the heaviness was gone from her shoulders, and she felt a strange tremor in her core, a mere glimmer, but it was there nonetheless.

It was not completely new to her, she had felt it once before, but it was many years ago, before she had ever laid eyes on Richard Winters. It was hope.

"A toast to new beginnings."

The first shot of blackberry brandy slithered a hot path to her stomach like liquid fire. Tears stung her eyes initially, but the aftereffects were warm and soothing, and left a sweetly pleasant taste in her mouth.

"Wow," Alex rasped. "That's actually pretty good stuff."

"A shot a day keeps the doctor away," Aaron commented with a grin. Alex noticed how much it mirrored his brother's own devilish smile. Aaron had the same head of thick, sandy hair as Jamie, but his eyes were a strange, misty gray color, and his face was the smoother, less rugged face of a younger man. His features were nearly as handsome, however, and filled with that same lazy, self-confidence.

"How old are you, Aaron?"

"Twenty-five," he replied with a wink. "Not too young at all, I assure you."

"He's only twenty-two. Aaron's always been a little bit too big for his britches," Diana commented wryly. "Now take those dirty things off awhile. You don't know the first thing about impressing a young lady. Manners, Aaron. Don't you remember that word?"