Snow Melts in Spring

by Vogts, Deborah

  “This weekend. I thought I might have Jenna over for supper one night to catch up.”

  He’d hoped never to see her again, and now Jenna was coming to his father’s ranch? Gil could think of nothing worse. “It’s been a long time,” he said instead.

  “What secret were you going to tell me about her? I’m sure it was juicy. Jenna always had a knack for getting into trouble.”

  Gil stared at Mattie, now the one feeling sick to his stomach. “She’d probably kill me if I told you,” he hedged.

  Mattie tossed him a mischievous smile. “Then I’ll have to get her to tell me, won’t I?”

  Lord, what am I going to do now? Feeling miserable and his stomach roiling from tension, Gil closed his eyes and pretended to sleep for the rest of the flight.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  GIL AND MATTIE CLIMBED INTO HIS LARAMIE AT THE AIRPORT AND headed back to Diamond Falls. As the miles ticked closer to his father’s ranch, Gil saw a puff of gray in the distance. A yellowish haze hung in the sky, and a thick musty smell blew into the cab’s enclosure through the vents. He lowered his truck window to locate the smoke’s origin.

  The Lightning M.

  Gil gunned the gas pedal, spinning the tires on the loose gravel. A mile down the road, he tore onto his father’s pasture, and the big, heavy truck jolted in and out of the hidden ruts. Rather than ease off the pedal, he darted around the gullies and rocks to get in front of the blazing head fires.

  “Be careful, Gil.” Mattie braced herself against the dash.

  Despite her warning, he didn’t slow down. “Jake ought to have more sense than to work this fire on his own.” He jockeyed through the glowing obstacle course and veered left to dodge an outcropping of jagged rocks. Thirty yards ahead, Jake’s four-wheeler shot in and out of the fire, his kerosene-filled pipe dragging along behind him.

  Gil swore under his breath. “What’s he thinking?”

  Then another vehicle emerged from the smoke. Gil accelerated to catch up, and as he neared, he recognized the figure driving the dented black Ford.

  Dad?

  He slammed on the brake and jammed the gearshift into neutral. “You drive,” he shouted to Mattie, then jumped out of the truck.

  As Gil approached the other vehicle, his temper raged as hot as the burning pasture. “What are you doing here?”

  “What’s it look like?” His dad stared back with a scowl.

  “Scoot over and let me drive.” Gil grabbed the door handle and waited for his dad to shuffle to the passenger side. The truck moved at an idle, and he climbed in without difficulty. Now safely behind the steering wheel, he glowered at his father. “Have you lost your mind? Why didn’t you wait for my help?”

  His dad held a box of matches and pitched the small burning stick out the passenger window. “How was I to know when you were coming back?”

  “You knew I planned to return this week.” He checked the rear window to assess the fire’s path. “Did you contact the fire department?”

  “Jake and I took care of everything. Got a water tank in the back for emergencies.”

  Gil noted the two-hundred-gallon sprayer in the truck bed, and his anger lessened. “Still, you have no business being out here. Two old men trying to do the work of four. How many acres are you burning?”

  “One pasture at a time.” His dad rubbed his shoulder, then tossed another match out the window. “Was on my way to start another backfire when you came tearing up from behind. Near scared me to death.”

  “Think how I felt when I saw you here.” Gil scratched his chin, knowing better than to argue with the man. He studied his dad from across the seat and noticed the pallor of his skin, probably from jostling around in the truck. “You feelin’ all right?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ve been burning pastures longer than you’ve been alive.” His words came out choppy.

  Trusting his instincts, Gil pressed on the horn to draw Mattie’s attention and motioned her to follow him deeper into the pasture, away from the burning flames.

  “What are you doing?” His father frowned.

  “Getting you out of here. Then I’m going to help Jake manage this fire.”

  Mattie hopped out of the Dodge and stuck her head in the passenger side window. “Everything okay?”

  Neither answered.

  Gil peered into her eyes, and she seemed to read his unspoken words. “Come on, John, how about I take you to the house? You can help me unload our suitcases.” She opened the door and held out her hand.

  He swiped it away. “After all I’ve done for you, I never expected you to turn on me. Must be the company you’re keeping.”

  Mattie flinched as though slapped.

  “There’s no reason to take your irritation out on her.” Gil grabbed his dad’s shirtsleeve. “Mattie hasn’t done anything to hurt you. If you want to be mad at somebody, be mad at me.” He could handle it, unlike Mattie, who seemed shaken by the hard words.

  In a huff, his dad slid out of the truck. “Tell Jake to come see me when it’s done. Don’t want him thinking I skipped out on him.”

  The worn look on the man’s face belied his gruff demeanor. In that moment, Gil realized his dad’s desire to feel needed was what spurred him to lash out. Was that what it was like when a man had nothing to live for? He’d experienced a portion of that when he retired, knowing he’d never play football again, but this seemed nine times greater. “Jake will understand. I’ll tell him Mattie needed you at the house.”

  His dad glanced back with scorn. “Don’t you dare lie to him. If you’re going to tell him something, tell him I ain’t man enough to take care of this land anymore.”

  Gil’s throat tightened, and he turned his attention to the burning prairie, to something he understood from boyhood and could handle. As he went to meet Jake, the crackling flames licked up the dry, dead grass, and he compared the charcoaled ground to his father’s life.

  Spring rains would charge the roots to grow and burst forth in tender new sprouts so green they would brighten the earth with energy, but what did his dad have to look forward to?

  A dead wife, a dead son, and another who antagonized him. Poor health and a ranch that had outgrown his capabilities.

  For the first time in his life, Gil felt sorry for the man who’d raised him. A man who once held the admiration and respect of all who knew him, now reduced to a mere shadow of his former self.

  His dad wasn’t invincible.

  Gil ducked his head as this knowledge hit him square in the gut. It didn’t matter if he and his dad never made up, or if his dad made Gil’s life miserable from now until the end. One thing did matter, however, and it had nothing to do with Gil’s past or his own selfish motives. It had to do with things eternal. He had to forgive his father for his shortcomings, and he needed to share what gave his life purpose.

  He’d spoken of his faith to Mattie, his teammates, even complete strangers in hospital beds, but not once had he shared it with his father, too afraid of his condemnation.

  Now he knew that had to change.

  MATTIE PARKED IN FRONT OF THE MCCRAY HOME TO LET JOHN OUT. The man barely said two words since leaving the pasture, and she was concerned about his pale lips and rapid breath.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m parched,” she said. “Let’s go inside and get us a drink of ice water.”

  Mattie went around to his side of the truck to help him down. As she reached for John’s hand, he clutched his chest, his face twisted in agony, beads of sweat on his brow.

  She measured the pulse on his wrist and noted the erratic rhythm. “John, are you okay? Is it your heart?”

  “Need my pills,” he panted. “In room.”

  Nitroglycerine. Mattie feared what might happen if she left his side. He stared at her, his eyes huge against his ashen face. They seemed to look right through her. Then he slumped against the leather seat of Gil’s truck.

  THIRTY-NINE

  MATTIE DASHED TO JOHN’S BEDROOM
AND FOUND THE NITROGLYCERINE tablets on his nightstand. Her heart beat wildly as she called out to Mildred for help. Fumbling with the tiny brown bottle, she hastened to John’s side and slipped a pill under his tongue as he labored for breath. She laid him flat on the seat and propped his head on her lap.

  Mildred followed close behind and gripped Mattie’s shoulder.

  “He was burning pasture. Shouldn’t have been out there.” Tears pricked Mattie’s eyes as she forced the words from her mouth.

  Mildred turned to go into the house. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

  John opened his eyes, his nostrils flaring. “No ambulance.” He rubbed his heaving chest and grimaced. “I’m okay . . .”

  “No, you’re not okay,” Mattie told him and checked his pulse again. When his symptoms failed to improve, she gave him another pill. “Mildred, call 911.” She looked toward the smoking pasture. “Gil?”

  “I’ll tell him and Jake what’s happened.” The woman stared directly at Mattie, her expression sure and composed. “Don’t worry. The old goat’s in God’s hands.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Mattie followed the ambulance to the county hospital in Diamond Falls and watched the medics wheel John into an examining room. Unable to join him, she slumped in a waiting chair and covered her mouth. Anxiety washed over her in an overwhelming wave, like the ocean she’d viewed from the cliff less than thirty hours ago.

  When a nurse came out of John’s room, Mattie rose to meet her. “How is Mr. McCray doing?”

  “Are you family?”

  Mattie swallowed. “No, but I’m the closest thing to it. His son, Gil, was burning pasture. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” She squeezed the nurse’s arm. “At least tell me if he’s going to be all right. Did he have another heart attack?”

  The nurse shook her head. “I wouldn’t worry too much. He seems to have a great deal of spunk. Be sure and let us know when his son arrives.”

  Mattie wrung her hands, hating the helpless feeling. She inched closer to John’s room and heard him complain about all the wires and gadgets connected to his body. Her animal patients might bite, but they were more amiable than John McCray.

  The emergency doors opened and Gil strode in, his face and clothes covered with soot. Mattie rushed to meet him and launched herself into his arms, her heart hopeful the moment she felt his strong embrace.

  GIL BRACED HIMSELF AS HE HELD MATTIE TIGHT. SHE’D NEVER LOOKED so glad to see him. “Where’s Dad? Is he okay?” He searched her face for reassurance that his father wasn’t dead.

  Please don’t let him be dead.

  “He’s conscious. He’s in there.” She gestured toward a nearby examining room. “What about the fire? Did you and Jake put it out?”

  “Jake’s finishing up. The fire department arrived to help with the last of it.” Though he relished having Mattie in his arms, he reluctantly let her go.

  “I take it you’re John McCray’s son?” The attending physician greeted him, a clipboard tucked under his arm. “Your father appears to have suffered a severe angina attack. We have a heart monitor on him, and we’ve sent his blood to the lab to test his cardiac enzymes, but at this time, we have no conclusive results. I’ve reviewed your father’s medical history and because of his heart attack in December, I want to send him to Wichita to be cared for by his cardiologist.”

  Gil’s muscles grew weak at the sight of his dad, so pale and fragile. It left him speechless.

  The doctor shifted his stance and pulled out his clipboard. “According to your father, these angina attacks are recurring more frequently and with more severity. Were you aware of this?”

  Gil stared a hole through his dad. “No, I wasn’t.”

  His father groaned in displeasure. “Don’t need more testing.” He coughed and a nurse held a plastic basin to his chin.

  “He’s experiencing quite a bit of nausea,” the doctor explained. “I’ve already spoken to his heart specialist in Wichita, and he’s arranging for a heart catheterization to determine the location and severity of blockage in the arteries. Depending on the damage, they may or may not schedule him for surgery.”

  Gil swiped his forehead and studied his father. Though in pain, the old man still had enough gumption to create a stir. Gil squeezed his dad’s foot. “Transferring you to Wichita sounds like a good idea. They’ll be able to figure out what’s causing your attacks.”

  His dad shook his head as another spasm hit. “No,” he said between coughs.

  Gil straightened, praying his father would accept his next words. “Listen, I wasn’t home when you were sick before, but I’m here now. I want to be here for you.” Gil thought of his mother. He hadn’t been at her side when she’d passed away, and he’d regretted it ever since. No way was he going to let that happen again.

  “Can I ride with him in the ambulance?” Gil turned and asked the physician.

  “It’d be better if you drove. That way you’ll have a car.”

  Gil combed his fingers through his hair. “Of course, I wasn’t thinking.” In an effort to clear the worry from his mind, he exhaled long and slow. He stepped outside the room to let Mattie know what they’d decided and welcomed her once again into his arms.

  “I’m going with Dad to the Heart Hospital for further tests. Will you tell Mildred and Jake the situation?”

  “Are you okay to drive?” Mattie surveyed him from head to foot, her concern evident. “At least come to the ranch for a change of clothes. Get a bite to eat before you make the trip.”

  Gil shook his head. “He needs to know he can count on me.”

  “It’ll be okay, Gil.” She seemed to sense his agitation and pressed her fingers to his lips. “I’ll have Mildred round up some things for you and John, and I’ll meet you there as soon as I’ve checked on the animals in the clinic.”

  “You’re tired.” He grasped her wrists, unable to think of anyone’s company he’d welcome more. “I don’t want to worry about you on the highway. My suitcase is still in the truck, so I can clean up at the hospital. You get some rest. I’ll call when I have more news.”

  For once, she didn’t argue. “Promise you’ll call?”

  He kissed her forehead gently. “I promise.”

  MATTIE WAITED FOR GIL’S CALL, TORMENTED BY A RESTLESS SLEEP. The next morning, her cell phone chimed on the nightstand. She fumbled to answer it when she saw that it was Gil.

  “Good morning, sunshine.”

  Mattie welcomed the warm affection in Gil’s voice, but that didn’t excuse the worry he’d put her through all night. “You didn’t call. How’s your dad?”

  “I’m sorry. He underwent tests all night and is wiped out, but the good news is they’ve found little blockage.”

  “No surgery, then?”

  “Right now, it doesn’t look like it. They want to explore a few more possibilities and are playing with his medicines.”

  “How are you holding up?” The beagle that lay on the bed at Mattie’s feet clambered up to lick her face. She hugged him to her chest, and her voice softened. “Did you get any sleep?”

  “Barely. I wanted to tell you I’m coming home to pick up a few things. They’re going to let Dad rest this morning and then they’ll start in again this afternoon.”

  “Are you sure you want to leave? I can bring whatever you need.”

  “You stay and tend to your patients. You’ve been gone enough.”

  Mattie closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to the pup in her arms. “Give him my love, then.” Her words cracked as she wished she could tell John herself.

  “Don’t worry, he knows.”

  Tenderness welled in her heart for Gil. She said good-bye, already reevaluating her day. A short while later, as she poured milk into a bowl of cereal, her cell jingled again. Mattie answered automatically, thinking Gil must have forgotten to tell her something, but a female voice greeted her instead.

  “Hey, little sister. What’s up?”

  “Jenna?”

  “Who e
lse? Gosh, it’s good to hear your voice. Guess what? I’m here. I took some extra days off work and flew in early. Mom told me about the clinic fire — that you’ve been staying at the McCray ranch. Do you have any appointments this morning?”

  Mattie swallowed. So much for catching up at the clinic. “What do you have in mind?”

  Jenna laughed into the earpiece. “I should be there in about half an hour.”

  “Then I’ll see you soon,” Mattie said, but her sister had already hung up.

  Her cereal now mush, Mattie grabbed her coffee and strode to the clinic to check on her patients. Cup in hand, she went to Dusty’s pen and examined his wounds. After fourteen weeks of therapy, the gelding finally seemed to be on the mend, eating better and putting weight back on. He snorted and pitched his head in the air.

  Mattie stroked his shoulder. “Hey, boy. Did you miss me?”

  Jake stepped up to the stall with a bucket of grain. “Dusty’s full of energy this morning. Starting to look like his old self again, thanks to you.”

  Mattie smiled at the ranch hand’s compliment. “Don’t thank me. He did it himself, with lots of help from God. I thought I might take him out for a ride — lead him behind Tulip. Maybe after that, we could put him in the large pen by the barn — let him get some grass?”

  “He’d like that.” Jake removed his hat. “Have you heard anything from Gil?”

  She noticed the dark circles under Jake’s eyes and guessed he hadn’t slept too well. “John’s doing better. Sounds like he’s going to be in the hospital for a few days, though.”

  “He won’t like that.”

  “It’ll be good for him.” Good for Gil too. Maybe it would give the two of them a chance to talk.

  “I shouldn’t have let him start that fire yesterday. I knew it was a mistake, but when Mr. McCray gets an idea in his head, it’s hard to stop him.”

  Mattie opened the gate to continue her chores. “John does what he wants. I’m sure that’s where Gil gets his stubbornness.” She looked at Dusty, thankful they’d both been stubborn enough to keep him fighting for life. Sometimes obstinacy was a good thing. “His attack would have happened sooner or later, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”