She cleared her throat, and they looked up, blushing. “You’re back. Hey, we finished up just in time, come in and look.”
“I thought you promised to get more on the walls than each other?” She smirked. “Looks like that didn’t work.”
They looked down at their clothes. “Well, we had a little fun after the work was done. Come take a look. I think you’ll like it.”
“What color did you paint the walls anyway?” She was beginning to get nervous seeing the variety of hues on their clothes and faces. “I thought we agreed on an off white.”
Cole said nothing more as he led her into the store. As soon as she walked through the door, she was assaulted by the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. A mural of a desert scene joined each of the walls. The longest of them held a set of mountains with the sun setting behind them in beautiful shades of reds and purples. Above was painted the words ― C&C Trails and Lodging.
“It’s . . . wow! It’s amazing. I love it.”
“Samantha did all the work. Isn’t she a great artist?”
“Samantha! You did this? I mean, what am I saying, of course, Cole didn’t do it.”
Cole wrinkled his nose. “Wait a minute, now. See that cactus?” He pointed to a small, green stick off in the distance. “I painted that one.”
“That’s a cactus?” she teased, then looked at it closer. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, she said, “Oh, look. It sure is.”
Cole and Samantha laughed. Samantha more than Cole.
“Do you like it?” Samantha asked shyly. “I mean, really. We can paint over it if you―”
“Are you crazy? This is gorgeous. I love it!” She hugged Samantha, thanking her for the gift. She looked around the room. “Now we just have to get the stuff back in here. I can’t wait until our guests see it.”
“We can do that tomorrow. Let’s give the paint some time to dry, and the room needs to air out a bit,” Samantha said. “By morning it should be ready to go.”
They walked back to the house together, Charlotte still amazed at how everything was coming along.
“How’s Clementine?” Cole asked.
“Oh! I forgot to tell you. She foaled. A nice little filly. I named her Lucky. She’s perfectly healthy. Doc Evans will be here in the morning to give her a full check-up.”
She’d have told him earlier but he and Samantha had insisted she stay away from the store while she was painting and then she got caught up in the rest of the horses and it had totally slipped her mind.
“Lucky, huh. I like it.”
“Can we see her, Cole? I’ve never seen a newborn foal.”
Cole smiled at her adoringly. “Of course, we’ll go after dinner.”
Ignoring their loving stares, Charlotte said. “I put the horses through all the tests Daddy taught us, I think they’re ready to ride.”
“I knew it wouldn’t take much. They’ve been well-bred and taken care of. Samantha and I will take a few of them out on the trail in the morning just to be sure. How many riders are coming?”
“A family of four.”
“Good, we’ll ride two out and let the other two straggle behind then switch them out on the way back.” Cole cared for the horses just as much as she did. He would be sure to take every precaution to make sure they and their riders were safe.
“Sounds like a plan. I need to soak in a hot bath. You two can find something to eat.”
“I think sandwiches will do,” Cole answered. “We’re all beat.”
Samantha nodded her agreement, and Charlotte headed to her bathroom to start a nice long bubble bath. Her body ached from head to toe. She’d gotten up so early and worked harder than she had in a long time.
As she removed her soiled clothes and slid into the hot water, she closed her eyes and let the water calm her aches. All except for the pain in her heart that could not be softened by anything but seeing Ezra again and knowing he was safe.
Chapter 21—Ezra
Ezra headed up to the Wells Fargo in town. There were several other banks in the area, but the small WF above the number fifteen on the wrist band was an indication that it was a Wells Fargo key. At least his father had given him some kind of idea where to look.
Walked up to the bank, he had no idea what to expect. He didn’t really care. After seeing his father, he needed no more explanation. He was a man withering away before his time, and Ezra had settled it in his heart to forgive him. He didn’t excuse his father’s actions. There was no way to do that. He had called out for him as if somewhere deep down in his deteriorating brain, he remembered him. That reading of the book of Ezra would bring him back or at least soothe his mind. It made Ezra believe, he was sorry for his actions. That was enough for him.
He went inside and walked to the front desk. Showing the bank teller the key and his ID, the man verified it in the system and led him back to a room filled with small safes. They inserted their keys, and the attendant left him to the room. On the far wall was a table with a couple of chairs. He brought the box to the table and sat down in front of it.
A nervousness fell over him, and he turned away from it. He wasn’t sure he was ready for what he would find inside. He needed to get back to Charlotte. She’d probably thought he abandoned her and he was missing her like crazy. Anxious to get it over with, he reached inside and pulled out a small white envelope. On the outside was written in his father’s handwriting, one word, Ezra.
His hands shook as he opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of lined paper. He read the short message.
Son,
I am sorry for what I have done to you. Your wounds are deep, and I am the cause. I don’t deserve your forgiveness so I won’t ask for it. Inside this box is an envelope with $210,000 and the paperwork for the selling of the house. With my care completely taken care of every penny goes to you.
I don’t presume to buy your love. What is destroyed can never be bought back. I just hope that you will use the money well.
The words sounded so much like his father. Short and to the point. It was almost as if he could hear it coming straight from his lips. He set the letter aside before he was finished. He needed a break from his father’s words.
Ezra checked the bottom of the box to find an envelope full of money. He opened it up, and a car key fell out of it. He looked at it for a moment, turning it around in his hand. Under the envelope was a certified letter along with the paperwork from the sale of the house. He stared at the paperwork for a long time before taking his eyes off of it. His father had sold the house and given him the money. He picked the note back up.
In the box is also a key to my old Chevy. Maybe you don’t want it. If you don’t, that’s okay. You can sell it. It’s at Larry’s house. He promised to keep it in good repair for you.
I am being transferred to a facility soon. But I’ve done this to myself. They call it some silly disease, but the reality is, I think I have drunk myself into forgetting the harm that I’ve caused. It’s easier that way. I’ve always been one to take the easy way out.
Enough said. Take care of yourself, son. You have had to do it all your life, I know you will continue.
Love,
Your Father
Ezra took a deep breath to stave off the tears itching to break free. At less than fifty-years-old, his father had wasted away to nothing but a shell of a man. Whether it was Alzheimer’s or not, he didn’t believe his father was willing to come out of his walking coma. He thought about what the old vet had told him. The past ain’t an easy thing to recover from. His father had suffered plenty. It was time to give it a rest.
He went back up to the front of the bank and handed over the key. With the money, certified letter, and sales documentation, he opened a bank account, keeping a small amount out for his immediate needs.
Thirty minutes later, Ezra walked out of the bank with a temporary bank card, the letter from his father, and a key to his father’s old car.
In another half an hour, he stood at th
e door of his father’s old friend’s house. Larry. He hadn't seen him since he was a young boy. He knocked on the door hesitantly, not sure he wanted to see him.
“Can I help you?” Larry asked from behind a security door.
“Hi, Larry. My father . . . uh . . . he asked me to stop by.”
Larry stared at him curiously. “Your father? Who would that be?”
Ezra’s instinct was to turn and leave, but his feet wouldn’t move. “William McCain.”
Larry’s eyes signaled recognition. “Ezra? Little Ezra?”
The next thing he knew, the door swung open, and Larry’s arms flew around him. “Little Ezra McCain. My, you’ve sure grown. Come on in. Come on in.”
Ezra followed him in.
“So, you came back to see him, huh? I sure am sorry for what happened. Your father and I went out looking for you after you left. He was a mess. He’s never been the same since.”
Ezra didn’t know what to say to that. He’d have never thought his father had even cared that he’d left. His throat began to itch. “He came looking for me?”
Larry’s eyes sobered. “Ezra, I can’t be sorrier for what he did to you. The day you left.” He looked away, his eyes showing pain. “He told me what he did. What he’d been doing. He was a very sick man, and he took it out on you.”
“It’s in the past. I’m over it.”
“No. don’t go writing this off as nothing. Your father told me that if you ever came back, to tell you that you’re in no way to blame. When he lost your mother, his mind snapped. That’s no excuse for taking it out on you. I’m not defending him. I just want you to understand that your father did love you. He just didn’t know how . . .” Larry shifted on his feet. “No, I’m not going to go there. He was wrong, plain, and simple. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I didn’t know about what was happening to you. I could have . . . should have helped.”
“Can I take a look at the car?” Ezra wanted to get away from that line of discussion. The past was the past, and he would deal with it in his own time but rehashing it was doing nothing but making him frustrated.
“Yeah, sure. It’s in the garage. I’ve kept the maintenance up on it, and I take it out to drive every Sunday. It’s all yours.”
Ezra followed Larry through the house and to the back door that led to the garage. As soon as he saw it, his hands began to shake. He shoved them into his pockets.
“Suspended from school?” His father grabbed him by the ear, dragging him to the very same car. “I’ll teach you a lesson.”
Blocking any more thoughts from his head, he looked away. When would he ever be able to see the past as anything but painful? He could sell it, and maybe that was a good idea, but it was the only thing he had from his past. It not only represented the bad but the good times he’d had before his mother passed away. Those were all now a blur shut out by her prolonged agony.
God, help me figure this all out.
“You thinking of selling it? I’d buy it from you if you were.”
Immediately his decision was made. “No. I think I’ll keep it.”
“Good. Your father would be . . . I’m glad you’re keeping it. You have the key.” Larry hit the button for the automatic garage door opener and then pulled the spare from his keyring and handed it to him. “It’s gassed up and ready to go. The title’s in the glove box. It’s been signed over to you. Just take it to the MVD, and you’re all set.”
Ezra walked to the car and opened the door. He sat down inside, feeling the soft leather seats with the palm of his hand. His father had loved the car more than his own son. Refusing to allow his mind to go that route again, he waved to Larry and put the key in the ignition. Backing out, he looked back to see a sad expression on Larry’s face. He had tried to talk to him, but there was just not too many things to say. All of them brought up painful memories he’d rather not deal with.
The older car drove as smoothly as if he’d bought it off a new car lot. Larry had taken good care of it. Ezra was ready to get back to Charlotte, but first, he had a couple of stops to make.
Pulling up into the parking lot of the nursing home he’d been at merely hours before, Ezra had some things to say to his father. Whether he understood them or not was of no consequence. They needed to be said.
He parked the car and went inside.
“Mr. McCain, you’re back so soon.”
“Yes. I’d like to speak to my father again if that’s okay.”
The woman looked up to a clock on the side wall. “Sure. Visiting hours are over in thirty minutes.”
Ezra nodded, and she picked up the phone to call him an escort back. A moment later, the same woman who had brought him in the first time poked her head out. “Look who’s back. Your father has been talking about you since you left.”
Most likely his father was talking about the Bible book and not him, but he took it with kindness anyway. “Thanks. I just need a moment with him, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
As he followed her back, she rattled on about what a good mood senior Mr. McCain had been in ever since their visit. Ezra didn’t quite get it. His father was completely out of his mind. How they could tell he was in a better or worse mood, was beyond him.
He entered the room. His father sat on a couch with a book in his lap. He looked up and smiled at them as if he actually saw them.
“Guess who came back to see you, Mr. McCain. It’s your son, Ezra.”
“Ezra. I’m reading the book of Ezra. He was a scribe, you know.” His father patted the book in his lap.
The nurse smiled and patted his shoulder. “He’s no more cognitive, but I think inside, he’s found a bit of peace. I believe your visit was the cause.”
“Thanks. Could I have a moment with him alone?”
“Sure. I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”
The nurse left, and Ezra sat down next to his father. “Hey, Dad. How are you doing?”
“I had a son once. His name was Ezra.”
“Yeah. I heard.” There was no use arguing. “I just wanted to tell you that I forgive you, Dad. I know you don’t understand me right now, but when Mom passed away, I was―”
“Yes, Victoria. She was a beauty, wasn’t she? Love of my life. Every time I looked into the boy's eyes, I saw her.”
“I know. And it hurt you.”
“No. No. I hurt him. My poor Ezra. He was a good boy, and I ran him off.”
“Ezra forgives you.”
“You know my son?” His father stared into his eyes and Ezra could have sworn he saw a glimmer of recognition.
“I do. He wants you to know, he’s okay. And he forgives you.”
“I love the book of Ezra. I read it every day.”
Ezra patted his father’s hand and stood. There was no way to know if his father understood what he was saying, but he felt that a weight had been lifted in speaking the words.
“Dad, I . . . I’ll come back and visit again. You take care of yourself, okay?” He wasn’t ready to say the words I love you, but he felt in his heart that he would someday be able to say them and mean it. For now, he could only make the promise of returning.
His father’s eyes glossed over and he stared out the window. A smile stood on his face, and Ezra wasn’t sure what it meant, but if it gave him a small amount of comfort, he was happy for it.
Ezra left the nursing home, his heart a little lighter. He had one more stop to make before heading back to the ranch and begging Charlotte to forgive him for leaving in the dead of night without warning. At the first fast food restaurant he found, he turned in and headed through the drive-thru.
“Can I get forty hamburgers, please? And throw in twenty medium fries.”
“Sir, did you say forty?”
“Yes, ma’am. And twenty medium fries.”
He was told to pull forward, paid for his food, and then parked in an area reserved for large orders. Twenty minutes later he was on his way to the underpass. He parked his car in the dirt
, grabbed the bags and headed up to the several homeless people that gathered around. He’d been there. He knew just how far to lighten their loads a couple of hamburgers would do. He passed out several burgers to them and sat on the ground next to the old vet and ate with them. He was no longer homeless. Even if Charlotte rejected him for leaving, he had enough money to get his life started, but still, he had a heart for the people who struggled every day just for a bite to eat.
“Looks like things went well,” Stanley said.
“Thank you for talking to me. You gave me much food for thought. I think I’m in a much better state of mind now.”
“Weren’t me, young man. That there’s the power of God.”
“Yeah. I’ve got some more things to figure out, but I’ll be back. Thanks again.”
Ezra took his last bite of burger, shoved a couple of fries in his mouth and said his goodbyes. The next stop would be the hardest.
Chapter 22—Charlotte
Charlotte sat at the kitchen table going through the monthly bills. She sorted them into priority. The ones that were overdue, she placed on top. With the new income, she was able to pay a good portion of them up to date and no longer felt that overwhelming feeling she was about to drown in a sea of bills. The ranch wasn’t exactly on the plus side yet, but they were surviving. That was more than she could say the month prior, and she had hoped it would get better.
Two of her rooms were currently filled. One with a family of three, and the other a single gentleman who spent most of his time on his computer in his room. Another family was due in soon, and she anticipated having a full house. She’d made baked goods all morning, and Cole had gone out and bought the fixings for a light lunch. She was not under obligation to feed them a dinner meal, but with no restaurants within miles, she decided to put on a large pot of spaghetti.
Her dream was to turn part of the store into a restaurant where she could entertain guests completely. For now, that would have to wait. They were barely getting by as it was.
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