Kitabı oku: «The Cowboy's Homecoming», sayfa 3

Chapter Three

Beth finished her phone call and sat down at the table with a cup of coffee. After helping Jeremy with his mother the previous evening, she’d had a long talk with her brother Jason about ways to save Back Street Church. Thanks to his wife Alyson they had a very clear idea of how to accomplish their goal. They’d learned that the building had turned 100 the previous year.

They were still digging but it was possible the building could be saved by having it listed on an historical registry. The phone call Beth had made would set the plan in motion.

And she didn’t know how she felt about what she’d done. As much as she didn’t want the church torn down, she also didn’t want to hurt Jeremy.

It seemed that no matter what, someone would get hurt. Either Jeremy or the people in town who cared about the future of the church. He had plans for a business. Beth saw the church as a connection to her mother. Others in town had similar stories and reasons for wanting the building to remain standing.

She took a sip of her coffee and reached for the box sitting on the table in front of her.

Her dad had finally given it to her the previous evening after she’d gotten home from visiting Jason and Alyson. Now that she had it, though, she didn’t know what to do with it. She’d left it sitting on her dresser last night, untouched. Thirty minutes ago she had carried it into the kitchen. She’d been staring at it while she ate her cereal and then made the phone call to the historical society.

She let out a shallow, shaky breath and reached for the box. It was just a plain metal box. Her mother had intended for her to have this eighteen years ago. Eighteen long years, with so many mistakes, so much heart-ache in between.

Would her life have been different if her mother had lived? Would Beth have made different choices, taken a different path? Those were questions that would never have answers.

She lifted the lid of the box and a sob released from deep down in her chest. Tears followed as she lifted her mom’s Bible from the box. Her mother’s most prized possession. Of course her dad wouldn’t have wanted Beth to have that Bible. He would have seen it as the root of all their problems; the same way he blamed Back Street Church for her mother’s death.

He had needed to blame something, or someone. He had picked the church Elena turned to when the doctors told her there was nothing they could do.

Beth opened the Bible and stared through tear-filled eyes at her mother’s handwritten notes in the margins. Reading those notes, it was as if her mom was there, teaching her about life. There were notes about faith, sermons, and verses that were her favorites.

She closed the Bible and placed it on the table. There were other things in the box. Her mother’s wedding ring. A book of devotions. Her journal.

The journal was leather bound. The pages were soft, white paper that had yellowed with time. The writing had faded but was still legible. Beth flipped through the pages. The last half of the journal was blank. But the final entries, pages and pages of entries, were written to Beth.

She skimmed several but paused on the one dated August 5.

Dearest Beth, you’re barely ten and I know this isn’t going to be easy for you, but I want you to know that I love you and God has a plan for your life. Don’t give up. Don’t forget that your daddy, even if he’s hurting and angry, loves you. And don’t hurry growing up. It’ll happen all too soon. Love will happen. Life will happen. Don’t rush through the days, savor them. Love someone strong.

Love someone strong. Beth closed her eyes. She didn’t know if she’d ever really been in love. Chance had been a mistake, an obvious mistake. He’d been her rebellion and a way to escape her father’s quiet anger. Now she realized her dad had been more hurt than angry. But at eighteen she hadn’t cared, she had just wanted to get away from Dawson and the emptiness of her life.

Her life was no longer about Chance. It couldn’t be about what she’d been through. Instead it was about what happened from this day forward.

Jeremy Hightree didn’t understand that. He still saw the church as a connection to his troubled childhood.

Maybe her mother’s words could change his heart. She put everything back in the box but she didn’t replace the lid. She wouldn’t do that. It was a silly thing but she couldn’t put the lid back on the box. Instead she carried it down the hall to her bedroom and placed the box on her dresser.

She walked out the French doors of her room, onto the patio that was her own private sanctuary. She stood in the midst of her flowers and the wood framed outdoor furniture that blended with the surroundings.

When she came home a short year and a half ago this had been her healing place. She’d planted flowers and she’d hidden back here, away from questions and prying eyes. In this garden no one questioned the jagged cut on her face or the arm that had needed to be reset.

This morning she was escaping from other emotions. Her mother’s memory, Jeremy’s plans for the church, her own fears.

She really needed to slow down. Everything was coming at her in fast forward. It was time to pray and plan her next move, before she rushed forward and did something she would regret.

At last she had fallen to sleep. Jeremy stood at the door of his mother’s room and waited for her to move, to wake up and yell again. She’d done a lot of that since the previous evening when the hospital had transported her to the long-term facility a short distance from Grove, and only five minutes from Dawson.

She’d done so much screaming this morning that the nursing home staff had called him to see if he could calm her down. Surprisingly she had calmed down immediately when she saw him.

He sighed and turned to go.

“Jeremy, how are you?”

Wyatt Johnson walked down the hall. Jeremy shrugged one shoulder and turned his attention back to his mother’s room, to the bed, and to the thin figure covered with a white blanket.

“Do you need anything?” The two had gone to school together. They’d ridden horses together and roped calves together. Wyatt’s horses and Wyatt’s calves. They’d been friends, even though Jeremy hadn’t been a part of Wyatt’s social circle. They’d traveled to rodeos together and fought their way out of a few corners together.

“No, we don’t need anything. It looks as if she’ll be here for a while.” For the rest of her life. Her liver was damaged from years of alcohol abuse. Her brain wasn’t much better.

There must have been a time when she’d been a good person. He really tried to remind himself of that; of the reality that she had fed him and cared for him.

Or he liked to hope she had.

When he thought of gentle touches, it sure wasn’t his mother he thought of.

“I’m sorry.” Wyatt leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. “Guess there isn’t much more a person can say.”

“Nope, not much, but thanks.” Jeremy turned from the room and headed down the hall, Wyatt Johnson at his side. Jeremy stopped at the nurse’s station. The woman behind the desk looked up, her glasses perched on the end of her nose. “I’m leaving.”

“We’ll call if there are any problems.”

“Right.” He stood there for a minute, wondering if there was something else he should say or do. The nurse continued to stare at him. She finally lowered her gaze to the papers she’d been reading.

He guessed that was his cue to move on. So he did. Wyatt moved with him. When they got to the door Jeremy punched in the code and pushed the door open.

“Wyatt, I don’t want to talk about the church. Not now.”

“I hadn’t planned on bringing it up.”

An alarm sounded. Wyatt reached past him and pulled the door closed. He pushed other buttons on the keypad.

Jeremy stared at the closed door, at his truck in the parking lot and then shifted his attention back to Wyatt. He couldn’t be mad at a guy who’d gone through the things Wyatt had gone through; losing his wife, raising two little girls on his own. And then falling in love with a preacher’s daughter. At least Wyatt’s situation had a decent ending.

The single life was good enough for Jeremy. He dated women who wanted nothing more from him than a decent meal and a dozen roses to end things. That philosophy kept his life from being complicated.

He hadn’t seen too many happy relationships in his life and figured he was a lot better off than the friends who’d started believing they needed to settle down and have a family. Wyatt didn’t look too worse for wear, though.

“Looks like it might storm.” Jeremy nodded toward the southern sky. It was Oklahoma, so there was always a pretty good chance it might storm.

“Yeah, looks that way. We’re under a tornado watch until this evening. No warnings, yet.” Wyatt pulled keys out of his pocket.

“Yeah.” Jeremy ran out of things to say about the weather.

Wyatt grinned and tipped his hat back. “I know you don’t want to talk about the church, but you bought it and you had to know that’d stir up a hornet’s nest. I’ve known you a long time and you’ve always been fond of a hornet’s nest if you could find one.”

Jeremy told himself not to respond to his friend’s baiting. He smiled and kicked his toe at the ground. Yeah, he wasn’t going to ignore it.

“Wyatt, the church was for sale and I bought it. If people in Dawson are suddenly attached to a building they’ve neglected for years, that’s their problem. Someone else could have bought it.”

“Someone else could have,” Wyatt said. “No one did.”

“Right. I bought it and I plan on building a business that might give a few people in Dawson the jobs they need.”

“That’s a decent idea. But you have two hundred acres across from the church. Why not build your business over there?”

“I’m building a house on that side of the road and I’m buying cattle.”

“Yeah, I saw that they finished framing the house yesterday. It’s pretty huge for one guy. Are you actually going to live in Dawson?”

Jeremy stopped at the edge of the sidewalk. “I’m going to be here part of the time.”

“The church means a lot to a lot of people. I know it doesn’t seem that way.”

“No, it doesn’t and I kind of wonder why everyone suddenly realizes the church means something to them.” Jeremy glanced at Wyatt.

“Pastor Adkins kept me in church after my dad’s big indiscretion. I guess Back Street is what got me where I am today.”

“Gotcha.” Jeremy processed the story with the others he had been told. “Sorry, Wyatt, I have to get back and get back to work.”

“Work?”

“Business doesn’t stop because the boss is out of town.” He gave Wyatt a tight smile. “I’m managing my business from a laptop in the RV and trying to help Dane with a flaw in a bike we’re designing.”

Jeremy had partnered with Dane Scott in team roping years ago. And more recently in the custom bike business.

“I’d like to come by.”

“If you want a cup of coffee or you’d like to see the bike we’re building, stop by anytime.”

“And don’t bother hitting my brakes if I’m there to talk to you about the church,” Wyatt added for him.

“Sounds about right.” Jeremy touched the brim of his hat and walked across the drive to his truck.

When he pulled up the drive of Back Street Church, Beth Bradshaw was sitting in front of his RV. He hadn’t expected her to be the one pounding his door down trying to save this church. But why wouldn’t she be the one?

Maybe, more than anyone, Beth needed to fight this battle.

He joined her on the glider bench outside his RV. She scooted to the edge, as far from him as possible. He tried real hard not to let that hurt his ego. He figured she had a lot of reasons. One might be that she hated his guts.

That didn’t sit well with him, the idea of her hating him.

He pushed the ground and the glider slid back and forth. Sitting there on the glider with her kind of felt like courting the old-fashioned way. The only thing missing was lemonade. She probably wouldn’t see the humor in that, but he did. The two of them as nervous as cats sitting on a glider, what else could he think?

He had to lead the conversation in another direction, away from courting Bethlehem.

“I kind of thought you might thank me for tearing this church down, Bethlehem.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name.”

“No one calls me Bethlehem and you know it.”

He started to remind her that her mother had called her Bethlehem. Neither of them needed that memory. He glanced at the box on her lap. She had her hands around it, like a little girl holding on to a treasure.

She glanced at him, a cowgirl face with straight brown hair in twin braids and eyes that pinned him to the spot. She’d have him questioning everything about himself if she didn’t stop looking at him like that.

“Why would you ever think I’d want this church torn down?” Her words were soft, matching the look in her dark eyes.

He shook his head and reined in the part of him that wanted to give her everything.

“I don’t know, I guess I thought it was tied to a lot of memories that you’d want to be rid of, not memories you’d want to hang on to.” He eyed that box again, wondering why in the world she’d brought it here and what it would mean to him.

Jeremy’s words played through Beth’s mind. She settled her gaze on the church. It was weathered and beaten down, forgotten. She’d been riding past this church her whole life, and since she’d come home from California those rides had resumed. Sometimes she even stopped and sat on the front steps.

As a teenager, when she’d felt the most alone, she’d found peace here. He wouldn’t understand. He would think she was weak if she told him that she’d hidden here, trying to find answers, to find a way past the pain of losing her mom.

She cleared her throat.

“I brought you something.” She reached into the box and handed him her mother’s Bible. She had no idea why she wasn’t keeping it for herself.

He needed it more? Maybe because she hoped something in there would stop him. He wasn’t going to listen to her or anyone else.

Maybe he would listen to her mom. Her heart trembled a little, afraid of his reaction, afraid of her own reaction. He took the Bible from her hands.

“Beth, this isn’t fair.”

“It was my mother’s.”

“I can’t take this.”

“She would want you to have it. I think she would want you to know what she thought of you.” Her hands trembled as she reached, flipping the pages of the book in his hands. “There are prayers in here, for Jason and me. Also for you and Elise.”

He let out a shaky breath and she waited. He didn’t react. After a few minutes he stood and walked away, still holding her mother’s Bible. She considered going after him, trying to talk to him.

Her feet wouldn’t move in that direction. Besides, she knew when to let a man be. This was one of those times. He walked across the church lawn, head down, the Bible in his hands. He climbed the steps and walked into the church, closing the door behind him. It didn’t take a genius to know he didn’t want to talk.

Guilt flooded her. For years Chance had used God’s word to beat her into submission. She didn’t want to do that to Jeremy. She considered going after him and apologizing.

She watched the door, waiting for him to come back out. The wind picked up. The southern sky was dark. She shivered a little and watched as clouds moved. A band of gray on the horizon meant rain and it was getting wider. Before long she’d have to hightail it for home.

A truck rumbled down the road and pulled into the crumbling parking lot that hadn’t seen this much traffic in years. Jason’s truck.

Her brother parked and got out. He walked toward her, his smile familiar. The one person to hold her life together, her brother. He’d always been there for her. He’d done his best to make her smile during their mother’s illness and after they’d lost her. He’d been the one sending money to California as her marriage fell apart.

“What are you doing here?” He looked from the church to her and then at the darkening sky. “Did you know there’s a tornado watch and a severe thunderstorm warning?”

“I heard on the news earlier that we could have storms today. It’s May in Oklahoma, what’s new? What are you doing here?”

He sat down next to her. “Same as you. I thought I could talk him out of it. Or maybe offer him enough money that he’d walk away.”

“He doesn’t need money.”

“No, I guess he doesn’t.”

“He needs closure.” She bit down on her bottom lip, letting that thought settle in. “He’s a lot like dad. They both blame this church for their pain. Dad kept us away. Jeremy wants to tear the church down.”

“Interesting.” Jason crossed his left leg over his right knee and relaxed, as if it was just a pretty summer day and they were sharing iced tea on the front porch. Instead they were both casting cautious glances toward the southern horizon. “Where is he?”

“Inside the church.”

“Hmm.” Jason smiled, the way Jason did. He’d always been the one finding ways to make everyone laugh, to make them smile when they didn’t feel like smiling. When he’d stopped smiling, God had sent Alyson and she’d helped him find his joy again.

He’d learned that he didn’t always have to be the one lifting everyone else up. Beth loved her sister-in-law for doing that for him.

Sometimes she was jealous, that everyone seemed to be able to find someone to love them, to keep them safe. Her memories of a relationship were of abuse and fear, not safety or security. She had memories that no one would understand, so she didn’t share.

“Beth, be careful.”

“It’s a storm, Jason. I’ve been through a few.”

He shook his head and his smile faltered. “That isn’t what I mean and I’m pretty sure you know that. Jeremy has a lot going on in his life.”

“Right, and I’m not the best judge of character.”

“I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I know.” She smiled, for Jason. “I won’t get hurt.”

The wind picked up and in the distance jagged lightning flashed across the sky. Thunder rumbled and the humidity in the air was heavy. Jason pulled out his phone.

She glanced at the radar he’d pulled up on the screen. The big red blob was lingering over their area of the satellite map.

“Great.” She watched the darkening clouds and trees leaning and swirling with the wind. “I guess this might be a good time to pray.”

A sprinkle of rain hit her arm. Beth looked up at the sky and then at the dusty, dry ground as the raindrops hit. It had been so long since it rained that the droplets bounced and didn’t soak in, not immediately.

Faith. She’d been through a drought, a long man-made drought, but faith was seeping back into her life. Her spiritual life had been a lot like hard, cracked earth, devoid of moisture. When faith started to return it was that same earth but with a trickle of water streaming through it, soaking into the dryness.

“We should probably go.” Jason stood, pushing his hat back from his face as he studied the sky. “This doesn’t feel right.”

“What, you don’t love that green sky?”

“Not particularly.”

She loved the rain. She loved storms. On the drive over a DJ on the radio, probably trying to be a comedian, had played the Jo Dee Messina song, “Bring on the Rain.” Beth found herself singing one line from that song, that she was not afraid.

The front door of the church opened. Jeremy stepped out on the porch. He was still carrying the Bible. Next to her, Jason made a noise and she shot him a look to silence anything he would say.

But he said it. “Is that Mom’s Bible?”

“It is.”

“Dad gave you the box?”

“He did.”

“And you brought the Bible to Jeremy Hightree?” Jason’s voice was tight, not really disapproving.

“I did. I just thought…”

“You might have pushed too far, Beth.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think so.” She met her brother look for look. “If this doesn’t work, I’m moving on to step two, and then step three.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you about the historical society.” Jason murmured, then smiled and waved to Jeremy.

Jeremy Hightree walked down the steps of the church. He glanced at the sky, watched for a minute and headed in their direction. He looked relaxed, in jeans, boots and a deep red shirt. But casual was a facade on this cowboy.

Rain was misting down on them and the wind was picking up.

“Jeremy.” Jason held out his hand. Jeremy took it, a quick handshake and then his gaze dropped to Beth.

She waited. And wished she was tall because then he wouldn’t have to drop his gaze to meet hers. She could face him, head on, eye to eye.

He held out the Bible. “I can’t keep this.”

“She cared about you.”

“I know she did, but this is something she wanted you to have.”

“We should go.” Jason shot a quick look at the sky. “Now!”

Her brother took hold of her arm and started to pull her toward the parking lot and their trucks. Her gaze shot to the southern horizon. Wind blew against them, slowing their progress and the rain hitting Beth’s face stung like ice against her skin.

A slow, loud warning siren sounded in the distance and she heard Jeremy yelling at them to stop.