by JoAnn Ross
“Yeah. On my last deployment. But the vodka tasted like kerosene, so I’m not sure that counts.” One of the U.N. soldiers he’d served with had managed to smuggle the rot gut in from Turkey that had him puking up his guts the next morning.
“I’m not much of a drinker,” she said. “But I’m beginning to see the appeal.” She reached out and touched his leg, the way she had the first day when they’d ridden out to see the foreman’s cabin. “Thank you for helping me with all this.”
Sawyer shrugged. “No problem. It’s a lot for one person to do.” Although he’d rather be dodging bullets in Afghanistan than making funeral arrangements for two more dead friends, at least he was feeling somewhat useful for the first time in a very long while.
*
COLTON KANE WAS Ryan Murphy’s age, and after graduating Willamette Law, he’d landed a prestigious job at a top Portland firm where, after an initial year clerking, he’d begun to gain a reputation for being a rainmaker, which had him fast-tracking up the ladder to an eventual partnership.
But to hear him tell the story, the constant need to acquire more business, along with eighteen to twenty billable-hour days had cost him any semblance of a life outside work and caused him to begin to lose sight of what had made him go into law in the first place. Which had been to help the law work for ordinary people who found themselves understandably perplexed by the often byzantine legal system. And who never could have afforded his Portland fees.
So, he’d sold his condo with its doorman, concierge, two pools, saunas, gym, twenty-four-hour security, and incredible views of the city, Mt. Hood, and Willamette River, and returned home to River’s Bend, where his family had been running Hereford cross cattle since shortly after World War I near lower Glass Lake.
While he lived in a house he’d had built on the lake, which allowed him to spend Sundays fishing from his front porch, he’d set up his office in a 1907 Craftsman with two round white pillars flanking a wide front porch.
All the beautiful original wood detail was intact, including the pocket doors closing off what would have been a formal front parlor from a dining room. Colton was using the parlor as a reception area, and Brody had combined the dining room and a second family parlor to create a spacious office.
After offering them something to drink, which they turned down, rather than sit behind the desk, he chose one of the armchairs that was diagonal to the sofa they’d taken.
“First, as I told you on the phone,” he told Austin, “Heather and Tom were more than clients. They were friends and I’m devastated I’m having to do this. Writing wills is a steady source of business, but I always hope the people are pushing a hundred before I have to have this sit-down meeting with the heirs.” He ran a hand through his hair. “This is just wrong.”
“You’ll get no argument from me about that,” Austin said. “So, the first question on the table is obviously guardianship of Jack and Sophie. Heather asked me if I’d be secondary guardian, after his parents, back when Jack was born. Of course I said yes, but I don’t know if she ever did anything official about it.”
“She and Tom both named you in their wills,” he confirmed. “As you said, behind his parents, who aren’t up to taking on the care of two young children.”
“Have they been told?”
“I’m planning to call them later today. There’s a three-hour time difference between here and Hawaii, and I have a contact name for Tom’s mother’s niece. I worked with her when Mary needed to be moved into a care center, so it would probably be better if she told them. Though I’m not sure his father will understand.”
“That’s so sad,” Austin said.
Sawyer, she noted, didn’t say anything. As soon as they’d entered, she’d felt him retreating back into whatever place he’d been going to since returning home. Which wasn’t encouraging and made this very bad, horrible situation even worse. Having him provide emotional support and serve as a surrogate father would be an enormous help during this difficult transition time. But if he did take a role in the children’s lives, he’d have to stick with them. Abandoning them, the way he’d abruptly cut himself off from her after that kiss, would only make things worse. They’d already lost their parents. Once again she wondered if she could risk them getting attached to a man who might not always be there for them.
On the other hand, she also had to think of Sawyer’s well-being. How badly had the war damaged him? Not just his physical wounds but any emotional ones. Would putting the pressure of helping to care for two minor children only make those issues he’d admitted to worse? Which wouldn’t be fair to him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head when she realized she’d missed what Colton had been saying. “Could you please repeat that?”
“Sure.” Colton’s easy attitude suggested that he was accustomed to clients’ minds wandering. After all, people didn’t tend to need lawyers when their lives were going smoothly. “Generally, what happens after parents of a minor child die is that anyone wishing to claim guardianship, who, in this case, would be you, must petition the court to be appointed guardian. Since you’re named in the will, that’s evidence that the children’s parents wanted Sophie and Jack to be with you, so the judge will grant this pretty easily.”
“How do we petition?”
“It’s similar to a divorce or adoption and takes place in family court. First you need to hire a lawyer.”
“Who would be you.”
“Okay. Great. I’d be glad to take it on. Pro bono, because, quite honestly, it’s not a lot of work, and I figure I already made my fee when I wrote their wills. Not that you’ll run into any problems, but I can also attest to their sound state of mind when they made the wills.
“I’ll have the niece email me Tom’s parents’ medical records, and will have a local attorney get his mother to sign off on any claim. Since the judge will rule in the ‘best interest of the children,’ you shouldn’t expect any problems. You’re a lifelong resident of the community, you’ve got a stellar reputation, you were close friends with the parents, and the kids love you.”
“I’m also their godmother.”
“Even better.”
“And Sawyer is their godfather.”
“Interesting.” Colton put his elbows on the chair arms and steepled his hands as he turned his attention toward Sawyer. “Are you planning to petition, as well?”
“No.” The quick, one-word response spoke volumes, and Austin saw something that looked like panic momentarily flash in his whiskey eyes. He rubbed his hands on his thighs. “But I’m living at Green Springs, so I’ll be there to offer any support I can.”
“Good, good,” Colton said. “So, you’re staying in the house with Buck, Austin, and the kids? For now?”
“No. I’m living in the foreman’s place.”
“I’m not saying it will definitely happen,” he warned. “But you might want to be ready for a visit from the DHS caseworker.”
“To me? Why?”
“Because you’re their godfather and you’re living on the property with them.”
“Not with them,” Sawyer argued. “They’re going to be in the ranch house. With Austin and her dad.”
“I understand. But the fact that you’re here right now and went to the funeral home demonstrates that you’re going to take an active part in their lives. Which is a good thing. But, since the court has to dot all the i’s and cross the t’s, you may have to be checked out. Not that there’ll be any problem.”
He paused a moment and gave Sawyer a long look. Realizing that Colton had probably been at the party, Austin wondered if he might have witnessed something that could prove a cause for concern.
Sawyer lifted his chin. Squared his shoulders as if standing at attention. Any fear or panic was gone, and in their place was steely Marine fortitude. “No problems at all.”
“Great.” The lawyer blew out a quick breath. “Okay, moving on, Tom and Heather left a few smaller bequests to people, which w
e’ll get to at the official reading of the will after the funeral. Which will be when?”
“We’re going to the church to figure that part out next,” Sawyer said.
“Probably Monday,” Austin said. “I don’t suppose, when they wrote their wills, they mentioned anything about buying cemetery plots.”
“No. And just in case, I called John Breebart at Evergreen Memorial Cemetery. He assures me that he’s got a double space not far from Heather’s parents with a nice view of the lake that he’ll save for you to come by and see.
“Meanwhile, I’ll pencil Monday in and just let me know if it changes. If for no other reason than I want to be there as a friend.”
After agreeing there was no point in having the children attend the official reading of the will, Colton turned back to legal details.
“Except for those bequests I mentioned, Tom and Heather left everything of value to the kids in trust until they’re eighteen. If you choose, you can also assume fiduciary guardianship of the estate. Which means dealing with the house, other personal property, paying bills, whatever else comes up. And, of course, reimbursement for the support of the children.”
“I’m not taking money for that,” Austin said.
“It’s an option.”
“No.” About this she was very firm. “Whatever money comes in, from Social Security or the estate, it’s going to be put away for them. This isn’t like a foster parent deal, Colton. I agreed to try, the best I can, to be Jack and Sophie’s mother. Last time I looked, that’s not a paying job. Nor would I want it to be.”
“Children aren’t cheap.”
“Nor is friendship. Heather was the closest thing I’ll ever have to a sister.” Emotions clogged her throat as she folded her arms. “The children are family and that’s that.”
“Fine. We’ll deal with the details another day. In the meantime, as soon as the court approves your petition, I’d advise you to at least use the money in the checking account to pay current bills. Which,” he pointed out, “you know Heather would want. She wouldn’t want to stick you with her bills any more than you’d want to leave her with yours.”
“Point taken,” Austin said reluctantly. There was also the fact that both hers and the ranch’s checking accounts were getting down to the bottom as they neared the end of the month.
“Sometimes creditors will void the accounts in case of a death, but not always. And you’ll probably want to have Brody finish the remodel so you can sell the house. And bank the profit from that for their future,” he said before she could state that she wasn’t going to take any of the house money. “I can also arrange for a fund to handle construction draws.”
“Brody and I already talked about him finishing,” she said. “I think the idea makes sense. When can we petition the court?”
“If the funeral’s Monday, except for thirty minutes or so to wrap up the will reading with everyone, you’ll probably want to be with the kids that day. I should be able to get a court slot for Tuesday morning to start the proceedings.”
“Thank you.” Austin managed a weak smile. “You’ve no idea how glad I am that you moved back home.” She glanced down at her watch. “We’d better get going. If that’s all for now.”
“That’ll do it. If I run into anything we haven’t covered, I’ll call. Also, if you have any questions, you can call any time, day or night.” He handed her a card with his office, cell, and home phone numbers on it.
After thanking him again, she and Sawyer were off on their last mission of the day.
“I guess we’ll have to go to the cemetery first thing tomorrow morning,” she decided. “And why do they need a view lot?”
“Beats me. Maybe so people will have something nice to look at when they visit the graves? Mom’s is under a tree. Dad had a bench put in and used to go sit there a lot in the early years after we lost her.”
“That’s nice. Well, not nice, but, you know.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“How long has this day been?” Austin asked as they headed toward the church and their meeting with Father Cassidy. “It’s got to be five o’clock somewhere.”
“You’re not going to get an argument from me,” he said, thinking he’d kill for a beer—or six—right now.
19
OUR LADY OF the River Church was situated on a bluff above Black Bear River. After the original church had burned down due to an unfortunate candle accident in 1910, it had been rebuilt of brick with gray stone accents hauled in by mule. Five years later, a room had been added for the resident priest, along with a barn, no longer standing, for his horse.
Later additions included classrooms for catechism instruction and a meeting hall that served as a wedding reception and funeral luncheon room, along with being a venue for seasonal plays put on by the youth groups. From its position above the river, the steeple bell tower could be seen from nearly everywhere in town.
It didn’t seem right, Austin thought as she and Sawyer walked up the stone steps to the tall double front doors. Father Cassidy had suggested meeting at first in the church itself, so they could talk about casket and flower placement. Which had her thinking back to when she and Heather had come here to discuss the altar wedding flowers and the bouquets on the main aisle ends of all the pews. That had been such a fun and happy day that rather than risk anything Johnny Mott might be serving at the New Chance, she and Heather had driven to Klamath Falls for a celebratory lunch at the Blackbird Bistro.
“I feel just like one of those citified ladies who lunch,” Heather giggled as she unfolded the white damask napkin and put it on her lap, which, as her pregnancy progressed, seemed to be disappearing more and more by the day.
“You deserve it. This may be the last time you get to go out without baby spit-up on your clothes.”
Heather wrinkled her nose in a way that had earned her the nickname of Bunny until she’d decided it was too childish for high school and had returned to her given name. “Thanks for the positive affirmation.”
Austin grinned. “What are best friends for?”
“Are you okay?” Sawyer leaned down to ask.
“I’m fine.” Austin furiously blinked her swimming eyes. “No. I’m not. But at least this is the last stop for today.”
“Until we go back to the ranch and face the kids.”
“And aren’t you just a beacon of positivity?” she asked, once again thinking back on that day.
She’d been so happy for her friend. But she couldn’t deny that a part of her had been envious. Not jealous, she’d assured herself then and did again now. That would suggest that she didn’t want Heather to have a happily-ever-after marriage with the man she loved. What she’d wished then, and yes, dammit, now, was that she could have that same type of relationship. Not with Jace. That had always been a reckless, impossible hookup that she’d allowed to drag on way too long.
But with Sawyer. At the time, she’d wildly hoped that both of them being attendants at the wedding of their close friends might give him some ideas. Like proposing. But after they’d danced their last reception dance, she’d returned home to the ranch. Alone.
The side door that led to the suite of church offices opened, and Father Donovan Cassidy entered the nave. Like most of the residents of River’s Bend—even Cooper, who seldom wore his official sheriff’s uniform—the thirtysomething priest could often be found in jeans, a starched cotton shirt, and boots. That he was wearing black slacks, a black shirt with his white clerical collar, and dress shoes showed how serious he took this meeting.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he said. “Phyllis Gardener is coordinating next month’s parish picnic, and there seems to be a problem with the variety of side dishes.”
“We just got here,” Austin said. The priest, usually punctual to a fault, was only three minutes past their meeting time.
“Still, your time is valuable.” He blew out a breath and seemed to be gathering his thoughts as he switched from the mundane of picnic potato sa
lad to the sacramental. “I’m well aware of how many things you have to deal with right now.” He held out his hand to Sawyer. “And as unhappy as this situation is, it’s good to see you back home again safe and sound, Sawyer.”
“It’s good to be back home.”
When the shadow crossed his eyes again, Austin, who was starting to get a handle on the baggage Sawyer had brought home with him, suspected he was thinking of those he’d been in battles with who hadn’t made it home. She still couldn’t quite get past the idea that if only she hadn’t gone along with Heather’s plan for dinner, perhaps none of the sequence of events that had brought them here to Our Lady today would have happened.
“I hear you’re staying at Green Springs,” the priest said.
“In the foreman’s cabin,” Sawyer pointed out for the second time today.
“Good, good. Jack will be needing a man he’s comfortable talking with during this sad time. Earl called from the funeral home after you both left. He said you were thinking of a Monday mass.”
“Is that a problem?” Sawyer asked with an edge to his tone Austin wasn’t accustomed to hearing from him.
“No, of course not.” The priest slipped his hands into the pockets of his black trousers. “Today’s Saturday. You could have the visitation Sunday night. The only problem with a Monday funeral is that you won’t be able to have the obituary posted in the Register before the mass. Which may not be important to you, but—”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Austin said. Nor could she remember Earl mentioning it in his list of things she and Sawyer would have to take care of. But, then again, her mind hadn’t been as sharp during that meeting as it might have been.
“Yes, I’d like the obituary printed before the funeral.” That way she wouldn’t have to spend hours this evening and tomorrow calling everyone who might want to attend. Which would also involve repeating the horrible details of the accident over and over again.
She did, she realized suddenly, have to call Lexi. As soon as she got back to the ranch. Just as there was no way she would have missed taking part in Heather’s wedding, she’d want to be here, as well.
