“No, not yet. I’m still thinking about it.” She said.
Conrad’s face darkened immediately. The smile had disappeared and was replaced by a sour scorn.
“What is taking you so much time to decide? I’m just handing over an easy-going life to you, for almost nothing more in return. I know you enjoyed that kiss. I know you want to sleep with me. Teasing me isn’t working, Celia.” He spoke quickly, harshly and she flinched from the words he was flinging at her. She suddenly wanted to cry.
“I’m not teasing you. It’s just not easy for me. I feel like a prostitute doing this.” She said and Conrad smiled, squeezing her shoulder.
“No…don’t think like that.” He said and placed a finger under her chin, lifting her face up at him. “That is not who you will be to me. This is a chance at a legitimate relationship. I need you and you need me.” He said, but she didn’t reply.
“Make up your mind Celia. I’ll be waiting for you in my room, otherwise we will have to make different living arrangements for you and Jack.” He said and drew his hand away from her quickly. Celia gulped again as she watched Conrad leave the room in a hurry. He was threatening her now! He was going to have her grandfather and her thrown out of their home if she didn’t comply with him. Where would they go? Back to New York? But her grandfather didn’t want to be anywhere else but here. Such a thing would break his heart. She felt like crying, she was growing desperate. What had she gotten herself into?
She turned on her heels and walked back into the dining room to be with her grandfather. Celia was fighting back tears, keeping them back for his sake.
But he wasn’t there.
“Grandpa!” She yelled out
, in a sudden fear that something had happened to him.
Celia ran out of the dining room, towards his bedroom, her feet sliding over the oak floors as she rushed. Celia flung open the door to his bedroom. And there he was, and so was Wilder. Her grandfather was sitting on the edge of his bed, with his feet dipped into a broad bucket of water. Wilder was at his feet, scrubbing the older man’s feet with a coarse sponge. They had both looked up at Celia when she burst in through the door.
She couldn’t stop the tumult of emotions that rushed into her heart when she saw them there. Never in her wildest dreams would she had imagined Wilder like this, so gentle and caring towards anyone. They were natural in each other’s company. It was evident that Wilder had done this for her grandfather before, that he probably even did it quite often.
Her hand flew to her mouth as she stared at them. She knew that her eyes were watering.
“Come in dear, Mr. Moore is just scrubbing my feet. I can’t reach them when I take my bath you see.” Her grandfather said kindly.
Celia was looking at Wilder, her brown eyes wide, and he was looking back at her too, innocently.
“Do you need some help?” She managed to say.
Wilder turned around, gave the older man’s feet a final scrub and then stood up, lifting the bucket up by its handle.
“Thank you, but we’re all done here. You can tuck him in if you like. I’ve helped him change already.” Wilder said and walked past her and out of the bedroom.
Her grandfather silently lifted his feet up on the bed and straightened them. Celia walked over, tugging the covers over him and then tucking them into the sides of his bed. She knelt down by his side and her grandfather reached for her face with both his hands.
“Thank you dear, thank you for being here. I know what kind of sacrifice it is for you, leaving your life and your job behind in New York.” He said, his voice breaking as he spoke to her. Celia’s eyes were still watery. She was looking into the face of a very sick man. A man she loved dearly, but whom she had ignored for the past few years.
“I would do it all over again if I had to, grandpa. This is what families do, and you are my family.” She said, touching his hand where it rested on his cheek.
Her grandfather stared into his eyes for a few moments and then spoke again.
“I don’t want to interfere in your life, my child, but the Moore’s…they are different from us. Especially…especially…” He said.
“Conrad?” She asked, and he didn’t reply. But his silence spoke volumes.
“But Conrad says that Wilder is jealous of him, that he wants to take away his inheritance.” Celia said. Her grandfather’s eyebrows crossed.
“What inheritance? Their father left the ranch and all the property to Wilder alone.” He said, flatly, like it was an obvious statement. Celia’s lips had turned dry. She couldn’t understand what her grandfather was saying.
“Why would he do that? Isn’t Conrad his brother? An equal member of the family? I don’t understand.” Celia said.
“Conrad was a rebel, the black sheep of the family. He never wanted any part in the ranch. He ran away from home when he was fifteen and went away to New York. His father disowned him. And then he came back when his father died.” Her grandfather explained. Celia licked her lips in confusion. But Conrad had said that he was an equal share holder in the ranch, in the family’s properties…that Wilder would try and steal his inheritance if he left the ranch.
Her grandfather was studying her closely. They were both silent for a few moments.
“I don’t know what Conrad has been telling you dear. But the truth is that Wilder is supporting Conrad. He feels guilty…” He was saying, but fumbling with his words. Celia had heard the guilt in Wilder’s voice earlier on the porch.