THAT SUMMER
inspired by the song "That Summer" by Garth Brooks
Ch. 1 She Went to Work for Him that Summer
Disclaimer: Neither the song "That Summer" nor the movie Labyrinth are mine, and I make no money or other profit from my writing. Would I could and did, but I don't.
Rating: M for mature themes & sometimes explicit scenes including, but not limited to, death, drugs/alcohol, abuse, and sex. If you can't handle these things, leave now.
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Two years after the labyrinth…
Sarah stared at the casket as it sat waiting over the open grave. The bright red roses were obscenely cheerful on the dark wood. She felt Toby beside her, restless and unable to fully understand what was wrong, why his mother was crying and his sister was so empty.
Her father was gone. Poof. One minute he had been driving home, the next, he was gone. The accident had been unavoidable, they said. He went quickly, they said. He had no time to suffer, they said.
They never said how a seventeen-year-old girl was supposed to cope with making funeral arrangements when her stepmother collapsed. They never said how a sister was supposed to become a surrogate mother until his mother could function again. They never said how much it would hurt, seeing her father's dark hair and unnaturally pale skin against the satin.
They never said a lot of things, but when they did talk, it was useless noise.
The graveside service was over and Sarah still stared, still waited for her world to come crashing down. It had wobbled when her mother had died of medical complications overseas last year. It had shuddered and shaken when her father died only three days ago. Somehow, she knew her world hadn't fallen apart yet.
She couldn't help but wonder how much longer it would take before she was left in the ruins.
*****
Three years after the labyrinth…
"Get over here," Xavier Deirks hissed at his stepdaughter. Karen had remarried, and Sarah was having to deal with the fallout.
"No," Sarah said, her voice flat. "I am not going to let you hit me, and I'm not going to let you rape me, either."
"Fine, the boy can take what you have coming," Deirks hissed, turning to go to Toby's room.
Sarah stood there, shaking. She had a choice. She could let him beat the hell out of her, like he had twice before over something less trivial than applications to colleges, or she could let him touch her. He hadn't tried to have sex with her yet, but it was only a matter of time. The thought made her nauseous.
"Wait." Sarah's voice was cold, not betraying how much she wanted to throw up. Xavier was good to Toby, even to Karen. He didn't want Sarah around. The antipathy was mutual. "Toby isn't a part of this."
"No, he's not." Dierks looked pleased.
"Why do you care if I apply for colleges? It's too late for most schools anyway. I graduate in two months."
"I'm not going to pay the application fees, girl, and I'm sure as hell not going to pay tuition. You're not my child and you won't bargain to get what you want." He moved over to Sarah and lifted up her shirt. "You are, however, legal. Consider this rent for the month." Sarah felt the large, rough hands touch her belly and tried not to cringe. "You disobeyed me about the applications. You live off what I make. I figure I'm entitled to something back from you--other than chores and babysitting."
"You're living in the house my father bought, driving his car, eating his food, and fucking his widow. I owe you nothing." Anything to get him to stop touching her like that. Better he hate her than she have to feel his hands on her body.
Sarah didn't duck when the first blow came. She didn't try to get away when he ripped off his belt. She curled up in a little ball and bit her lip, her cheek, her shirt, her hand. She didn't scream when the tenth blow crossed her back. She just waited for it to end.
Two months. He'd kick her out in two months.
She had to hold on that long. She could do this. If she could deny her dreams and defeat the Goblin King, if she could endure her parents' deaths, if she could handle the darker times in the labyrinth between the fierys and the bog and Ludo, she could endure this. For two more months.
*****
Three days after graduation, standing at the train station, Sarah shook the hand of her father's partner.
"Thanks, Mr. Hughes. I don't think it'll be long before I can get my things out of your garage."
"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," the older man smiled gently. "My boys are grown and my wife and I were just rattling around in here. At least you have some pretty things that she can dust. Are you sure you won't stay here with us?"
"I can't. I don't know if I'll make it, but I have to try," Sarah said. She was heading for New York City and potential heartbreak. She had some money from her father's will. She could make it work, at least for a little while. It was time to pursue her dream of acting.
"Good luck, honey. I've got a feeling you'll need it." Mr. Hughes gave her a gentle hug and sent her one her way.
Sarah climbed aboard the Amtrak with her one suitcase and found a seat. Three hours and she would be in the big city.
*****
A year later, after finding nothing but heartbreak and bad propositions, Sarah had moved from New York to Chicago, then further west and to smaller and smaller cities. From small cities, she'd moved to towns, working in restaurants and pulling odd jobs, moving on when it became clear she wouldn't find anything permanent there. She'd managed to get to some little spot in Montana with her last few dollars, because it had been the only destination out of the northeast corner of South Dakota.
Tired, hungry, and dirty, Sarah stepped off the bus and waved to the driver. Her one suitcase had slowly become one backpack as most of her clothes and jewelry were destroyed or sold to pay for food and rent. She'd even had to call Mr. Hughes and tell him to sell off her furniture and clothes and costumes--the only things in storage with him now were some of her favourite old toys, and she couldn't take them with her or afford to have him send them to her. Even if he would pay the shipping, there was no guarantee she'd be in the same place when it all arrived. Her jewelry was down to one ring and a simple necklace her mother had bequeathed to her.
Sarah looked around the town. She wasn't sure it could be called a town. It was more like a glorified intersection with a few houses and stores. Right next to the bus stop, sharing the same space, was the post office. Experience had taught her that postmen know everything in small towns, and most of them liked to talk. Sarah walked over to the small building and walked in.
"Excuse me," Sarah asked the man in the post office, "do you know if anyone's hiring?"
The man looked her over and raised his eyebrows. "You in a fix, honey?"
"Something like that. I need to get a job--if only for the summer. Then I can move on."
"Might be something, but if there is, it won't be in town. Hang on a minute while I call Gracie." The man picked up his telephone and dialed a number. After a short conversation, he hung up and told Sarah, "Gracie's waitin' for you at the diner. Just go down this road two blocks and turn left. Can't miss it."
"Thanks," Sarah replied. When he grunted in response, she left and followed the instructions.
"You must be the girl Wyatt called about," an elderly woman said, smiling. "Looking for work, are you? Well, no matter. There's nothing in town, since it's almost summer. What work there is is out on the ranches."
"I guess I could do ranch work," Sarah replied. "I can ride."
"English or Western style?" Gracie asked.
"Western. I…wanted more between me and the horse than a little pad. And I was nervous enough I wanted something I could grab onto, if I needed to." Sarah laughed at herself, Gracie smiled. "I took lessons for three years, though. I kept riding after that until about two years ago."
"How long, total?"
"Seven years."
"Hmm. Well, I guess I'll give King a call, let him know he's got a potential hand," Gracie sighed. "If nothing else, you can cook and keep the house in order while he gets a full hand out there. Lord only knows how he eats since his pappy passed. Probably nothing but beans from cans and some meat."
Sarah let the woman keep talking as she walked to the telephone sitting by the register. She stood and looked over the black-and-white pictures on the walls, glad to be standing after the eternity she'd spent on that bus. It was early afternoon and she was tired from the overnight trip. With a bathroom of sorts on the bus, the driver had only stopped for fuel and to get food at a gas station. She hadn't had enough money to get anything, but water was free, so she'd drunk her fill. Only a few minutes later, Gracie returned.
"All right, he'll take you on. He's easy to get along with, so long as you're willing to learn and you listen. If you don't do what he says, you'll be out on your rump before you can say licketysplit. You got a kit?" she asked.
"No, ma'am, just what I'm wearing." Sarah had on worn jeans, loafers, a shirt with a vest, and a backpack. Her hair was back in a braid, but Gracie could tell it was long.
"We'll get you kitted up, then." Gracie cocked her head to the side, thinking about how much the little slip of a girl in front of her needed.
"I couldn't--" Sarah tried to object, thinking she could make-do with the clothes she had. It wasn't much, but they were her clothes and she knew they were still good.
"Oh, it won't be charity. King'll take it out of your first month's wages. Besides, those jeans may be good for city work and even ridin' for fun, but you'll wear 'em to rags working in the saddle. Shirt, too. We won't even talk about the shoes. Come on, girl. What's your name, anyhow?"
"Sarah Williams." Sarah smiled and held out her hand.
"Well, then, Sarah Williams, let's get you kitted out." Gracie shook the offered hand and motioned for Sarah to follow her.
Three stores down, Sarah walked into a big, rustic store that reminded her of the dry goods stores in western movies. There were clothes everywhere, not food and odds-and-ends. Boots lined one wall. Leather goods, like vests and chaps, had a large corner. Jeans of every size imaginable were stacked neatly on shelf after shelf. Shirts were folded or hung, most of them with snap-fronts. From hat to spurs, this one store held everything bit of clothing needed by a rancher or his workers.
"Wow," Sarah breathed.
"You never been shoppin' before?" Gracie teased, heading over to the jeans first.
"Not in a single store with this much…or this big. It's huge!" Sarah followed Gracie to the jeans and started looking at the sizes. "I'm a size seven," she said.
"Like hell you are," Gracie snorted. "Oh, maybe in those designer things your wearing, but these are real jeans, and they come in real sizes. Here. Try these." She handed Sarah a pair of size fours. "Everything here's bootcut, so it's not going to hug your legs like those do. Tight on the ass, loose on the calves--and you'll be grateful for both by the end of the day, I promise you." Gracie frowned, looking at Sarah's height. "No, you just might need the longs for those legs." She grabbed another pair of jeans for Sarah, then another. "And just in case I'm wrong, here's a five long and a five regular, too. Dressing room's over there. Scoot!"
Bemused and still surprised with the way Gracie had simply taken over, Sarah took the jeans back to the dressing room. Once inside, she dropped her backpack, skinned out of the well-worn designer jeans, and slid into the stiff fabric of the new denims. Maybe it was the princess in her, but she hated scratchy jeans, and these felt like sandpaper. She zipped and snapped and discovered that Gracie had been correct. These four longs were just perfect. Until she washed them the first time, at which point they'd fit Barbie better than they would her. She pulled off the fours and put on the fives. After washing, hot or cold, these would be just fine.
"Here," came a voice from behind the curtain. A hand thrust in six shirts in different cuts and sizes. "Put these on--you got jeans on yet?"
Sarah didn't bother to reply, just pulled back the curtain. When Gracie smiled, Sarah just said, "Five longs, if I'm supposed to wash my clothes and wear them again."
"Five longs it is." She yelled over to the clerk to get six pair of five-longs for Sarah. The clerk yelled something back, but Sarah didn't quite catch it. "Here, these are the basic work-shirt styles. Box-cut, darted, and fitted. With those boobs, I'm betting you'll need the box cut for most days, but the darted would do well for you on Sunday. I've got to go kick that boy's behind for talkin' that way. The sizes are on the labels--check each shirt. Not too loose, or you could get hurt, but you have to have full range of movement." Gracie pursed her lips and shook her head. "I hope you're not as scrawny as you look, sugar."
"Not quite," Sarah grinned, watching Gracie stalk over to the rude clerk. She didn't bother to watch Gracie tear into the boy, but closed the curtain again and tried on the shirts. She found two that fit properly, within the guidelines that Gracie had given her. Sarah set those two shirts to one side and neatly hung the others back up. When she walked out of the fitting room, she saw the clerk had been properly humbled and was putting several pairs of jeans into a sack, ringing up each pair.
"Well?" came the expected voice.
"These two fit right," Sarah said, handing the shirts to Gracie. "These are either too tight or too loose."
"All right," Gracie looked at the tags. "Third shelf over there," she pointed. "You go pick out a dozen and I'll put these up."
Sarah walked over to the shirts and found solid colours and simple patterns, some quite pretty. She chose the simple solids and only one or two of the checked shirts, but nothing with flowers or curlicues. There was plenty of experience over the past year that told her looking feminine was not a good idea, especially since she'd be working on a ranch where, she suspected, there may be only one other woman. She didn't want or need that kind of attention.
Gracie walked over and nodded, approving of her choices.
"Who else works for him?" Sarah asked quietly, suddenly needing to know.
"He's got two full-time hands, but they're both married and only bunk at the ranch when it's the busy season. You missed that, by the way. It's summer, so spring round-up is over, the branding's done, and the sale herd has been delivered." Gracie thought for a moment. "There's still plenty to do, especially since one of his hands tends to ride rodeo when the itch comes back. Probably have enough time to train you in the basics before that one goes out ridin' again." She saw the little frown on Sarah's face and understood what she was driving at. "Not to worry. You'd bunk in the house with him, even in the busy seasons. Nobody 'round here is going to mess with you, not on King's ranch and not in town once you work there. He's got a nasty streak--or his pappy did. Come to think of it," Gracie murmured, "he did, too, when he was younger."
"Should I be worried?" Sarah asked, bluntly as Gracie would have.
"Not unless you hurt children, his animals, or try to cozy up to him instead of work." Sarah snorted and Gracie continued. "It's been tried more than once, Sarah. The end result…well, those girls tend to leave and not come back. He didn't do anything to harm them, but whatever pride they had was in tatters when he was done. Got a scary yell when he gets angry, but most of the time he's your standard cowboy. Quiet about what he thinks and feels, soft-spoken with women and children, works hard, sometimes cuts loose, and good-hearted." Gracie shook her head.
"I'm only interested in getting work, Gracie." There was something in Sarah's voice that told Gracie the younger girl wasn't kidding. She was not interested in getting a man, which would be enough for the women in town who were her age and a little older to accept her without worrying about competition for the few single men.
"All right, then," Gracie nodded. "Take those shirts to the counter and we'll go look for what you need under those. Let's see…" Sarah followed Gracie to another section where an older lady was sitting in a comfortable chair with her feet up. "Janie, I got you a customer."
"Do you now?" the woman called Janie replied, standing. "Well, you are certainly new in town. I'm Jane Masters. Some people," she continued dryly, cutting her eyes at Gracie, "call me by my nickname from grade school. Please, just call me Jane."
"I will," Sarah smiled. "I'm Sarah Williams."
"So, you're going out to King's ranch." It wasn't a question. "Not surprised. Hmm…" Janie studied Sarah for a long minute, making the girl squirm a bit. "Tiny little thing, aren't you." Without so much as a by-your-leave, Janie walked Sarah to the mirror then pulled the back of her shirt so the front was tight. "And those aren't tiny. How old is that bra you're wearing? Never mind, it's too old and too flimsy for what you'll need to do in a day. Here," Janie released her and walked over to a display of what Sarah had thought of as jog-bras, made for exercise classes and runners. "Try this one. It might be too loose. These wear hard, so you won't have to replace it too soon. Give me your size and I'll hunt up a regular style for you, too, for Sundays."
Sarah gave her size and took the workout gear behind a screen in the area. She didn't worry about anyone coming over, since Janie and Gracie were both just a few feet away on the other side. As she tried on the new underwear, she considered the placement of the screen. It was a large screen with beautiful paintings of horses and a mountain on it. The six panels formed an L so that no one could see into the little fitting area. Once she had the first jog-bra on, Sarah was surprised at how comfortable it was. She twisted and turned to see how it moved. When she turned, she saw a smug Janie looking back at her.
"I knew that would fit you. Here, give me the other two and try these. I picked out the three basic colours for you," she handed Sarah the undergarments in her size, "but they're basic. I'll throw in one or two frilly little things for when you want to remember you're more than another hand and you really are female." Janie walked back around the screen and grabbed a stack of bras for Sarah. She sent Gracie to the register with them and, while Sarah was trying on the basics, walked over to the panties. "I'll bet you're out of these, too, sweetheart," Janie murmured, thinking of the girl's tired eyes and travel-worn appearance. "And King can just eat the expense." Stacking up a large variety of plain, serviceable, and boring underclothes.
"Don't forget the matching pretties," Gracie said, coming back. "King will just have to live with it." The King family, what was left of it, had been ranching in the area for close to 100 years. Somehow, and they never did say how, they had made a fortune prior to the crash of '29. The ranch was their home, not their sole or main source of income. That was also why the King's son had left town for nearly 20 years--he was taking care of the family business that was easily run from the ranch.
Janie looked over at her conspirator. "You know he's going to be upset if we go all-out on her kit." She was being contrary just for the sake of contrariness.
"If he gets a bee in his bonnet, I'll tell him what I told him as a child--he can shut up about it or he can whine about it, but he's going to pay for it anyway." Gracie sighed. "He was a cute kid and a fine young man. Looks even better now, what with some years on him."
"And we," Janie sighed, pointing back and forth between herself and her friend, "are too old to be of interest to him." A speculative gleam entered her eyes. "You think that one…" she jerked her head toward the screen where Sarah was still making sure the bras were identical in fit. She'd learned the hard way that numbers on tags lie.
Gracie just smirked and picked up some lacy underpants.
The two women cackled and continued picking out delicate and practical things they deemed every woman needed. Flannel and cotton pajamas went into the stacks, as did socks and slippers and stockings, pantyhose as well as stockings and garter-belt. Gracie picked up a negligee and turned to Janie. Janie thought about it for a moment, then shook her head.
"Green. And get the one with feathers, too."
Gracie got the pieces in question and added something else that would probably shock the girl, but, if her gut was right, King would appreciate.
"She needs a few pretty dresses, too," Janie said, looking over the small mountain of private things they'd pulled for Sarah.
"Let her buy those with her own money later," Gracie countered. "She won't like it if she gets everything at once. In fact, I'm taking all of this over to be packed up for her before she comes out. Don't tell her what all we got. Shoes are next."
Janie nodded and, while Gracie hauled the clothes to the register, went back to the screened section. Sarah was just buttoning her shirt again.
"Thanks, Janie. There's only one that doesn't fit--the pink one."
"Not your colour anyway. You'd look better in peach, not baby pink. Next stop is boots. You'll need 3 pair--riding, work, and slush--I think you'd call 'em galoshes." At Sarah's nod, Janie took the bras from her and pointed to the wall of boots. "Left side is women's, and I'll be over in a minute to pull the right sizes for you. What size do you wear?"
"It depends on the cut of the shoe," Sarah grimaced. "My feet are long and narrow, so a lot of styles are hard for me to fit easily, but I usually wear a size 9, narrow."
"What's your heel?"
"I…don't remember. I haven't had shoes with a specific heel size in ages."
"We'll get you measured again, then. Go on and sit down. Or look at the hats. You'll need one of those to keep from blistering." With that, Janie turned and passed Gracie on the way to the register. "She needs measuring." Gracie nodded, but didn't reply.
"Good grief," the clerk said, staring at the stack in front of him. "King's gonna be on the lookout for you and Gracie."
"Hush, Rob, and get to ringin' up. I'll handle King if need be." Janie turned and walked back over to the boots.
"I love you, Mama, but he's gonna bury you," Rob muttered, punching in prices the way his mother had ordered.
"I heard that," Janie growled, not bothering to turn around. Rob was her son, true, but he was also full-grown. He sometimes said things that would have gotten him in trouble as a boy, and Janie knew that he knew she wouldn't do anything now unless he really needed it.
Rob just sighed and kept punching in numbers. The cap King had said was the maximum he'd spend for setting up an employee's kit was about to be a memory. Six frilly scraps of lace and some feathered negligees later, Rob knew he would not be answering the telephone for a few months.
"So, what's the size?" Janie asked, seeing Gracie had gotten the measurements.
"Nine C with an A heel. You are a skinny little thing." Janie walked over to the display and looked through the manufacturers. There was only one that carried double-last shoes for such narrow heels. King was certainly going on the warpath when he got this bill.
Gracie put up the measuring device and looked at Sarah's worn socks. She didn't say anything as she stood and grabbed a new pair from the rack, opening them and handing them to her. Sarah looked down and blushed, pulling up one leg and changing socks. She had been somewhat vain as a younger teen, but she'd grown out of that over the past two years. Still, it grated that she hadn't been able to replace the torn socks--or even mend them. She had no idea how to mend socks.
"Here we go," Janie said, coming over as Sarah finished pulling on her second sock. "Try these beauties on for size." She lifted out a pair of gorgeous leather boots. Sarah held the boot in her hand for a long minute, admiring the dark caramel colour, careful tooling, and dress heel.
"They're gorgeous. These can't be for work." The leather was rich and beautiful, but it was the kind of leather that would scuff and still look good, like well-made loafers or hiking boots.
"Riding. Believe me, you'll want the leather between your legs and the stirrup straps after several hours," Gracie said. "I know you ride, but you've never done serious riding like you will here--hours on end for days on end. Fences may be checked by driving most of the time, but there's some fences and places on King's spread that you can't get to in a truck, and on foot is just askin' for trouble."
Sarah nodded and slipped her foot into the boot. The stiff leather went halfway up to her knee, the classic front and back v dipping low on shin and calf. After sliding the second boot on, she stood and walked across the store and back. She stopped in front of Janie, who pressed the toe, sides, and heel to check the fit.
"Perfect," Janie said, smiling. "Now try the workboots. They're not as pretty, but you'll wear them as much or more than these."
Sarah tried on three pair of workboots before she got a pair that was comfortable for her and that Janie approved of. Janie and Gracie didn't tell her the prices, but Sarah caught sight of the tag on the box for the riding boots. Two hundred fifty dollars for one pair of riding boots! She was going to take more than one paycheck to pay for all of this.
The boots and galoshes and a pair of tennis shoes later, Sarah was almost done. She needed two belts, a hat, and a few other incidentals that Gracie and Janie would not let her go without.
"I don't need--" Sarah tried more than once.
"You do, and stop arguing about it," Janie said, Gracie backing her up.
Sarah was tired when she got off the bus, and she was more tired now. It was getting late, and these two women showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Picking her battles, Sarah surrendered. Over the last two years, she learned very well which battles were worth the pain and exhaustion and which ones were pointless. This one was pointless, even if it did put her in the unenviable position of working off a rather large debt before she could get the money to move on. She wasn't sure where she'd go, but she knew she'd be moving on again soon. She didn't mind the gypsy lifestyle, but she was getting tired of all-new faces and brand-new places.
"There," Gracie said, smirking. "Done. Let's get this loaded up and I'll take you out to the ranch to meet King."
"All right," Sarah said, picking up two bags. She was appalled at the number of bags she'd accumulated. "Gracie, you really shouldn't have---"
"Yes, I should have. Even if you don't stay, Sarah, you'll be able to go a long way on what you got today." Gracie pursed her lips and was about to continue when she heard Sarah's stomach growl. "You didn't eat earlier, did you?"
"No, ma'am," Sarah replied, putting the packages in Janie's truck.
"When's the last meal you had, girl?"
"Breakfast," Sarah replied, not saying that it had been yesterday's breakfast. She could go a little longer on the water she'd had on the bus.
"Janie," Gracie said to the other woman, "have Rob take all this out to the ranch for us. I'll take Sarah after I get her fed. Breakfast--not today, either, was it?"
Sarah shook her head, closing her eyes. "I can't pay--"
"Nonsense. You'll be working for King, and that's enough." The certainty in Gracie's and Janie's voices had been gnawing at Sarah since this shopping expedition started.
"You seem so certain he'll be willing to pay for this and take me on," Sarah finally said, voicing the little nagging worry that had been plaguing her all day. "Why?"
Gracie's eyes flashed with the insult, but then she stopped. "Come on. I'll tell you while you eat." Gracie took Sarah's arm and half-dragged her back down to the diner.
Inside, Gracie ordered for them both and sat down in her private booth. She thought for a while, waiting until dinner came and both of them were eating before she started talking. She saw Sarah ate slowly, carefully. The meal was good, wholesome, and hearty. Sarah ate enough for them both, confirming Gracie's suspicions that the girl had fallen on more hard times than she wanted to admit. Anyone that thin who ate so much at one sitting wasn't eating regularly or well.
"The Kings go back a long way here. There's a lot of things that we still hold to in this town, things that aren't true a lot of other places, even up here. We don't ask questions when people show up. We try to help and expect others to do the same. In the Kings' philosophy, this goes a bit further. Long time ago, the man who bought the property and started the ranch said he'd gotten help when he least expected it and without asking for it from someone who didn't ask anything but some honest work in return. He did the same for drifters who came through, looking for work or a meal. Back then, if you had food and someone showed up on your door, you shared. Period. Guests were unexpected as often as not.
"Sometimes, the people King helped would stay for the rest of their lives--that's where most of this town comes from. Sometimes, they'd drift off after a few days with some pay in their pockets. Most of the time, though, it was somewhere in-between. You're one of the in-betweeners, honey. I can see it on you a mile away. You'll stay to work off your debt and get some money, then you'll go. I'd be lyin' if I didn't say we'd like to see King settled and making sure he has a boy to inherit the ranch, but he's not shown any inclination to do that yet. His pappy passed on about four years ago, so he came home and took up the ranch. I told you earlier about the women, remember?" Sarah nodded and Gracie continued. "His pappy was the same way. One day, a girl came into town and went out to work for him, cookin' and cleanin' and in general doin' what needed to be done. He fell for her and married her. Jay is their son. We're kinda hopin' the same thing will happen for him."
"Not with me," Sarah said, between bites. "I'm not looking for anything but a job to get me further down the road."
"Honey, sometimes it doesn't matter what we're lookin' for. Sometimes, the only thing matters is what finds us," Gracie said, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke from the corner of her mouth. The look in her eye was one that only comes from a long life and experiences that Sarah didn't have yet.
Sarah started to reply, but settled for shaking her head and finishing her meal. After dinner, she walked to Gracie's car and climbed in. The ride was long and quiet, taking Sarah through some of the most breathtaking scenery she had ever imagined. There was a peace here, looking out on the wild landscape. The cows seemed just a part of the picture, almost unreal.
Finally, Gracie turned down a long drive and stopped in front of a large ranch house.
"Here you are, hon," she said, motioning to the house. "Everyone's out on evening rounds, so just wait on the porch. He'll be up here before the stars come out." She thought, but didn't add, 'Nap if you can, honey, because you are going to be worthless in the morning if you don't.'
"Thank you, Gracie," Sarah said softly, "for everything."
Gracie waved off the thanks and waited until Sarah was settled on one of the benches on the porch before pulling off.
Sarah watched the yard for a while before she started getting sleepy. Before the sky started turning peach and gold, her eyes drifted shut and she slept a truly restful sleep. Three hours after she dropped off, the sound of boots on the walk to the steps brought her sharply awake. Sarah stood up, watching as the tall, slender man mounted the steps, peeling off work gloves, hat obscuring any view of his face. He was slender, but it was obvious from the fit of his jeans and shirt that he was strong.
Not certain he'd seen her, Sarah spoke.
"Mr. King, I'm--" Sarah stopped speaking when the man looked up at her, his face shadowed by his hat but well-known to her dreams and nightmares.
"Sarah?" he asked, the surprise making his crisp accent and pleasant voice sharp.
Sarah stared into the face of one Goblin King and felt her knees give way. Of all the ways, of all the places to meet again, a ranch in Montana after she'd fallen on rough times was not what she'd imagined, not even in her wildest dreams. Jareth lunged forward and caught her just before she hit the porch, cradling her gently against his chest, his nose only an inch from hers as he stared into her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" she breathed at the same time he asked her the same question.
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