Love's Returning Hope (Love's Texas Homecoming Book 2; First Street Church #15)

by Sharon Hughson

  His money was still backing things, but Bailey knew running the day-to-day ranching activities was beyond Tess’s capabilities. She’d outsourced to a few neighbors, but all that did was cut into her profit margin.

  “Did you get that last guest bath in?”

  The seven-bedroom house made a great guest lodge. Tess had taken over the master suite downstairs and converted the room he’d used when his father was ill back into a parlor. The investor had funded and overseen the addition of bathrooms to four of the rooms upstairs, dividing a smaller bedroom into two nice-sized bathrooms and adding smaller ones to two of the larger bedrooms.

  The final room—used by MaryAnn for crafting and sewing—still needed to be renovated. He’d drawn the plans and helped get the permits and county approval, but he’d been busy making sure the barn and corrals were safe and accessible for their city guests.

  “I wanted to wait until the other rooms weren’t booked.” The sadness lacing her tone told the true story.

  Boxing up projects that had been the heart of evenings with their mother was too difficult. He could understand. He’d helped her clear out his dad’s things before moving to Austin, and every item held bittersweet memories.

  “I could help with the demo and remodel.”

  “I can handle it, Lee. It’s my ranch.”

  Her possessiveness of the ranch had grown exponentially after they’d secured ownership of the property. His stomach clenched as he thought of those grim days when there had been no will and an over-zealous blood relative circled like a buzzard. Of course, if it hadn’t been for that trouble, he probably wouldn’t have spent time with Jaz.

  Every trial is a blessing, if you look at it from the right angle. More wisdom from his mother.

  “I didn’t say you couldn’t handle things. I want to help.” He was her big brother. She could pretend she didn’t need him, but in this case, he knew the truth.

  “A weekend is plenty of time.” She sighed, and he heard a yip from her end of the call.

  His lips curled into a smile. Poppet was probably begging for dinner leftovers or anything else she thought was edible.

  “There’s an empty room for me this weekend?”

  After a lengthy pause, she said, “I have four empty rooms. Unless someone drops in or books last minute.”

  “I can stay in the barn.”

  In June, her investor had cleaned out the largest storage room and fixed it up, saying it would be perfect for a future ranch manager. Once the dude ranch could support someone to oversee the stock, ranching demonstrations, and horseback rides.

  “See you Friday night, then?” She sounded less irritated about the prospect.

  “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away, little sis.” He drawled out the words, imagining them sitting with the Traverses watching John Wayne movies. True Grit was one of Tess’s favorites.

  She giggled. “You’re so NOT the Duke of anything. Love you.”

  Before he could respond in kind, the call disconnected.

  No matter what she said, Tess still needed him. That assurance lightened the discontent nibbling at his master plan.

  As he plugged his phone into the charger, Bailey grinned and imagined surprising his girl. Her face blooming with shock and joy became a central part of his dreams.

  6

  Thursday, the orthopedic specialist visited the house. As he started unscrewing bolts from Mom, Jaz evacuated, excusing herself to find boxes for the unnecessary weights.

  For the first time since she’d been home, Jaz sat across the table from her mother at dinner. After warning her mother to take things slow, her father helped Geraldine with her first real shower. Jaz tried not to grit her teeth at her father’s needless words. No one wanted the traction back.

  Recovery sped forward. Except when her mother asked to return to her own bed, the doctor told her to wait at least another week.

  “It’s easier to get in and out of the hospital bed. I expect the pain will spike now that you’re moving around.” The surgeon gazed over the top of wire-rimmed glasses, reminding Jaz of her high school chemistry teacher.

  By the time Friday afternoon arrived, Jaz’s lower back throbbed from shifting her mother from bed to wheelchair to restroom to wheelchair to recliner and back again. Once Tabitha arrived for her afternoon visit and assured Jaz she could assist Geraldine into and out of the chair, Jaz ducked into the garage.

  The afternoon was warm and breezy, and she decided to bike into town and visit with Elise. The ache in her back eased as she rolled the bike into the driveway. After topping off the air in the tires and greasing up the gears on the back wheel, Jaz pushed the bike toward the road.

  An older coupe slowed and eased past. Tinted windows made it impossible to see inside, although a shadow made it seem like only a driver occupied the vehicle. Hair at the base of her neck snapped to attention. Was the person watching her?

  The car barely cleared the driveway before shifting into reverse. The passenger window rolled down. A broad-shouldered man with short, wild dreadlocks leaned toward the opening. His dark features blended with the shadowy interior.

  “Is this the Rolle place?” White teeth flashed.

  Jazlyn rested the bike against her stomach and crossed her arms over her chest. The flimsy mountain bike wasn’t much of a barrier, but it eased the tension the stranger’s question raised. “Who wants to know?”

  The engine noise changed, and the car rolled slightly. The man leaned closer and studied her with somber brown eyes. “Jazlyn, right? Zoom said you were feisty.” Now he smiled, but the emotion in his eyes didn’t match his easy tone or expression.

  A war entangled her pounding heart and churning stomach. Jaz took a steadying breath. Zoom was the nickname Drew’s unit gave him. “How do you know Drew?”

  “Afghanistan. I’m one of the guys he saved.” The intense gaze dropped to the passenger seat.

  “You know how he died?” Excitement leaked into her tone. How macabre was that?

  The Army declared that her brother had died in a “training accident,” but everyone knew that meant he’d been on a covert op. He was a Special Forces munitions expert. Eight years later, the files still hadn’t been declassified. While she served in a JAG office, Jaz had tried to discover the truth behind his death but she had no access to paper records at the Pentagon and her security clearance wasn’t high enough to view the computer database.

  If this stranger knew the truth, it might be worth wading through the pain of reliving the loss. They would have answers, and that would grant them a modicum of closure.

  “I was on the mission.”

  Jaz studied the stiff features. He was a handsome guy, and even the world-worn expression couldn’t hide the fact that he was closer to her age than her brother’s. Blood pounded against her skull. She sidled back, listening to the clicking of her bike’s gears.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Drew asked me to come.”

  Jaz snorted. “Nearly eight years have passed since Drew asked anyone anything.”

  Full lips pressed into a white line. “I was recovering. Or not.”

  He’d been injured. Why hadn’t she realized that?

  “I’m sure my parents will be thrilled to hear your message, but my father’s at work and my mother has company.”

  He shrugged and leaned closer. “The message is for you.”

  The bottom dropped out of her churning stomach. Jaz gaped at him, eyes blinking while her mind spun.

  “I—okay.” Her fingers dug into the handle bars on the bike.

  “Were you going somewhere?”

  She nodded. “I don’t know your name.”

  “Billy.” He stuck his hand out the window. “William Jefferson. The guys called me Prez.”

  She blinked, wondering if the letters she’d saved and carried from college to base after base in a plastic shoe box mentioned this guy. She hadn’t read them in more than a year.

  A spike twisted in her chest,
and she covered the spot with one hand. The bike seat slapped against her hip bone, but she hardly noticed.

  He withdrew his outstretched arm back into the vehicle. “Is there somewhere we could talk? Somewhere public since you don’t even know me.”

  Jaz swallowed and tried to make her voice work. After a long pause, she said, “Let me put my bike away. There’s a place in town.”

  Her leaden feet made the return to the garage burdensome. Still her mind whirled, and the thoughts dizzied her until brown spots danced on the edges of her vision.

  Drew had left a message for her with a guy from his platoon. Someone who had been injured, too, but who Drew trusted to deliver his final thoughts to his little sister. Was it a letter? Or would the guy be reciting something? How did she know this guy was for real?

  Lord, I need help here.

  Assurance whisked away the anxiety in her gut. Why would someone pretend to have a message from a dead guy? And if he’d intended harm, wouldn’t he have come while Jaz was in a more vulnerable spot? He’d been recovering, he said. Maybe his injuries had been severe enough to require years of surgery and rehab.

  A ribbon of certainty wove its way around her pounding heart and clenching stomach. God’s answer to her plea for help?

  Jaz sent a text to her mother and Elise, letting them know she’d be at the high school with a friend of Drew’s.

  The scent of gasoline and grease swirled up her nose as she took calming breaths. She’d been waiting for years to learn about Drew’s final mission. And if he had a message for her, she wanted—no, needed—to hear it.

  By the time Jaz returned to the idling car, the passenger door stood open. Billy leaned against his own seat, staring out the side window away from her. When she slammed the door, he jolted like he’d been hit with a bullet.

  His foot slipped onto the gas, revving the engine. His eyes, wide and wild like a spooked animal’s, stared at her.

  “Sorry.” Jaz forced the word from her suddenly tight throat. She directed him toward town, keeping the conversation light by relaying tidbits about Drew’s high school years.

  “No one could believe he passed up a full-ride to play football.” Billy gulped and glanced her way. “Not the football part, but who chooses Uncle Sam over that?”

  “Drew. It was his mission to rescue everyone.”

  Billy nodded. “Once we got to know him, we all understood.”

  They pulled into the lot beside the high school stadium. Jaz ducked inside the chain link fence and strolled out to the track. Billy fell in beside her, his loosely tied high tops flopping with every step. He walked with a slight limp, favoring his left leg and holding his back stiffly, arms hardly swinging as they paced side-by-side in the outer two lanes.

  “Can you tell me what happened? How Drew died?” Jaz studied the man’s profile. “I know it’s classified, and I don’t care about locations or even the mission.”

  Billy stared straight ahead. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and Jaz decided staring at him probably didn’t help.

  “I was the newbie on the squad. Hadn’t been there for six weeks. It was my first incursion.” He paused. “Last, too.”

  Jaz squeezed his forearm. The contact shocked her, and she pulled away before he could read anything other than comfort into the gesture. It unsettled her to feel so at ease with this stranger. It’s the Drew connection.

  “Zoom set the charges while I watched the perimeter with most of the team.” He looked at her. “Zoom is—”

  “Drew. He told me his nickname.” A ball of tears choked her. After she gulped them away, she said, “Thought it was an ironic twist since he had the quickest 40- and 100-yard dash times in the state.”

  Billy dropped his chin. His shoes clopped. A bird called from a nearby tree, and another answered from the stands. “Everything seemed quiet. Then they passed a doorway that was in the shadows. It burst open, and Hell broke loose.”

  Jaz stumbled and wondered if she’d tripped over her stomach which had plunged with those last three words. Drew went through Hell on his way to Heaven. Moisture burned her wide, blinking eyes.

  “Doc was nearest to me, and when Zoom and Panther fell to the automatic fire, he pulled me with him, wanting to get them out of harm’s way and treat them.”

  Jaz tried to picture a dark, dusty street with gunfire punctuating what should be a peaceful scene.

  “Anyway, Panther wasn’t hurt as bad as Zoom, so Doc pulled him back to the perimeter while I laid down cover fire.”

  Thunk. Thump. The slap of his soles on the track added an eerie soundtrack to the tale.

  “I’d rolled Zoom behind a rattletrap car. His breath was wheezing.” Billy paused, and when he continued, his tone was thick. “He asked how far to the building he’d wired. Said he was going to blow it and I needed to get out of range.”

  Jaz could see her brother, gasping for breath and deciding to sacrifice himself for all of them. Did he think the explosion would kill the insurgents? Or did he figure it would be the perfect cover for his team to withdraw and fight another day?

  “No man left behind, I said. He looked at me—deep, the way he did that made your soul feel naked—and told me to get out of there.” Billy slashed at his face and turned his head away. “Then he pulled something out of his hip pocket and made me promise to deliver it once I got stateside.”

  Jaz scolded her rising emotions. She’d mourned her brother already, and this confirmation of his heroism should make her feel proud, not weepy.

  “I shoved the folded envelope into my pocket. He told me he’d count to three once I started running.” Thump. Thwack. “There was a lull of a couple seconds, and I barely heard him tell me to go. I fired toward the enemy and bolted back to the perimeter.” He shook his head. “The explosion knocked me down and made my ears ring for a week.”

  “Is that how you were injured?”

  A grim smile curled his wide lips. “We were ambushed at the evac site. Doc and I were running with Panther’s stretcher when machine gun fire cut our legs out from under us.”

  Silence stretched. Jaz focused on the sound of her breathing, shallow like she’d been running. She inhaled deeply and waited to exhale.

  “Only two of our guys made it out without serious injuries. Our objective was destroyed, but so was our team.”

  “Intense.” What could she say to such a story?

  “It was a month before I was coherent enough to talk to anyone. Doc asked about the envelope. I guess they’d found it while they were putting tourniquets on my legs.”

  Another yawn of silence. A whisper of wind cooled Jaz’s flushed face.

  Drew had sent her a message. After they’d completed half a lap, Jaz said, “So you got sent home?”

  “I lost one leg, and the other knee was blown apart. That was a long recovery, but the nightmares…”

  Jaz squeezed his arm again. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  Billy stopped walking and glanced at her fingers resting on a muscled forearm, a shade more pecan pie than her smoky-quartz hand.

  She dropped it to her side. He dug in the front pocket of his shorts and withdrew a wallet.

  Her heart palpitated, and she tried to catch her breath. He flipped open the bi-fold and pulled a dirty, wrinkled envelope out of the bill pocket.

  “I tried to locate you a few times about three years after, but you’d left the university, and I hung up when I called the Sweet Grove number. Then that was disconnected.”

  She nodded, feeling like a bobble-head doll. “They use mobiles now.”

  “After I met Reesa, she told me the way to get closure was to keep my promise. I started searching for you again. I didn’t expect to find you today. I figured I’d have to beg your parents for your address.”

  Their gazes locked. “You could have mailed this.” The envelope felt smooth beneath her fingers. An electric current tingled its way from the palm of her hand into her heart. Jaz yearned to hug the paper, sniff it for lingeri
ng traces of her hero.

  Billy shook his head. “Nah. I needed to deliver the message in person.”

  They stared at the envelope. Jaz swallowed. An unreasonable dizziness made her wobble. His hand on her upper arm steadied her.

  “I’d like to know what it says.” He shrugged. “But Reesa said you’d want to read it in private.”

  His dark eyes begged her to deny it. She couldn’t. The flimsy envelope held the final link to her idol. She wanted to savor the words. Alone.

  “Reesa’s one smart gal.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Maybe not since she’s going to marry me.”

  Jaz blinked her burning eyes. “Congratulations,” she said in a barely audible whisper.

  They strode toward the fence and his car. Jaz’s feet itched to run, but she stayed beside Billy, slowing her pace as they started down the slope toward the gate.

  “Did you want to meet my mom? She’d love to hear the story.”

  Billy walked on. Just before they reached the exit, he stopped. “I delivered the message. I’m done.”

  The hollow behind his eyes reminded her of her own reflection for a couple years after Drew’s death. Jaz stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him like it was her final moment with Drew. His hands grazed her back, barely touching, but she couldn’t move away for several heartbeats.

  She stepped back, blinking away the tears. “I can never thank you enough.”

  He nodded. The ride back to her parents’ house stretched on endlessly. The letter burned against her palm.

  Drew’s message from beyond the grave whispered to her soul.

  7

  On his way to the ranch— earlier than Tess would expect—Bailey detoured down Main Street. Not that he missed mowing the athletic fields and fixing every loose bolt at the schools, but there were good memories, too. Like the day Jaz hit a record number of home runs, and the day she hit one right in his lap.

  He grinned and cranked his window all the way down. He shoved his hat higher, tapped his fingers along with the contemporary Christian song playing through his scratchy old speakers, and drank in the smell of country. Tension bled from his shoulders and back, and a sense of homecoming welled as he drove past First Street Church and other familiar buildings.