Falling for the Hometown Hero

by Mindy Obenhaus

  She reached for the door handle. “Guard it with your life, soldier.” Bailing from the vehicle, she sprinted for the front porch.

  Donning a raincoat he found tucked in the backseat, he followed her at a brisk pace. “I usually use the back door.”

  A grin carved that dimple into her right cheek. “But there’s no cover there.” She eyed the roof that stretched the expanse of the porch.

  “Good point.” He opened the screen, shoved his key into the lock and held the door open for her.

  Inside, he tossed the raincoat aside and set the pizza on the coffee table. “I’ll be right back.” He made his way down the hall to the linen closet and grabbed two towels. “Here you go.” He pitched one her way when he returned to the living room.

  “Thanks.” She toweled her face first, then her hair before shrugging out of his old coat.

  Continuing on into the kitchen, he grabbed a roll of paper towels. “What would you like to drink?”

  “Got any Diet Dr—”

  He’d meant to buy some. “Sorry. How about water?”

  “That’ll work.”

  By the time he returned, she was digging through one of the boxes he’d hauled into the living room and attempted to tackle the other night. Only to leave it untouched beside the coffee table.

  “This would be great for the exhibit.” She held up a zip-topped bag of Middle Eastern currency.

  “I hadn’t thought about it, but I guess you’re right.” He handed her a bottle of water.

  With the water in one hand, she turned the bag with the other for a better look. “I know I’m right. People love this sort of stuff.” She laid it on the table then twisted off the lid of the water bottle to take a drink.

  He offered up a quick prayer before taking his favorite spot on the sofa and lifting the lid on the pizza box. He picked up a slice and was just about to take a bite when Grace cleared her throat.

  He looked up at her. “Yes?”

  “Don’t get too comfortable. We still have work to do.” She grabbed her own slice while rummaging through the box with her free hand.

  Several slices later, both boxes sat empty.

  Grace rolled up the sleeves of her plaid button-down shirt. “One down, a dozen or so to go.” The spunk in her hazel eyes when she glanced at him made him feel as though he were on a carnival ride. One that dipped, twisted and turned at warp speed. “You ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” He pushed himself off the couch. “Sounds like the winds might be dying down.” He flipped on the light in the hall as they continued.

  “Yeah, it does.” She fell in line beside him. “That’ll make my sleep experience a better one.”

  Reaching around the corner into the spare bedroom-turned-storage room, he located the light switch and flipped it on.

  “What’s that sound?” Grace looked at him curiously.

  “I don’t know.”

  Grace’s sharp intake of breath echoed his own. “What happened?”

  Something that looked like a pile of dirt sat just inside the door while water rained down from a two-by-three-foot hole in the ceiling.

  Stepping into the room, he studied what could only be described as a disaster. He eyed the wet Sheetrock as he peered into the attic. Only then did he realize that what he thought was dirt was actually insulation.

  “Oh, no. The boxes.” Without a second thought, Grace charged into the room and scooped the nearest box into her arms.

  Somewhat dazed, he watched as she scurried down the hall and deposited it in the living room before moving toward him again.

  “Don’t just stand there.” She sent him her fiercest look. “Grab a box.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” He rushed in behind her and armed himself with two containers. He passed Grace in the hall. She was carrying the towels they’d used earlier. “What are those for?”

  “The floor,” she hollered over her shoulder. “Those old hardwoods don’t take kindly to water.”

  More than an hour later, they collapsed, breathless, onto the sofa.

  “Well...that was not how I’d planned to spend this evening.” He absently massaged his left thigh where his stump and prosthetic met. It ached from all the back and forth.

  “Me either.” Grace huffed and puffed beside him.

  He eyed the stack of boxes now in the corner of his living room. “We make a pretty good team.”

  Rolling her head to face him, she sent him an incredulous look. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

  “No. I’m just now stating it.”

  “Oh.”

  They sat in silence for a time, collecting their thoughts as well as catching their breath.

  “Kaleb?” With one arm draped across her stomach, she stared at the ceiling.

  “What?”

  “You hear that?”

  “Hear what?” He didn’t hear anything.

  “I think it stopped raining.”

  Standing, he moved to the front door. Opened it. “You’re right.” He stepped onto the porch, the rain-cooled air chilling his sweat-dampened skin.

  Grace joined him, rubbing her arms. “It smells so clean out here. Earthy.”

  He leaned against the railing. “Thank you for helping me tonight. Sorry it didn’t turn out the way we’d planned.”

  “I’m just glad we were here to discover what had happened. And that that pile of...whatever landed on the floor and not the boxes.”

  “Insulation.”

  “What?” She looked at him as if he were crazy.

  “That pile. I’m pretty sure it was insulation.”

  “But it was black.”

  He shrugged. “Somehow the rain got into the attic, soaking the insulation, which, in turn, soaked the drywall, weakening it, and then the weight of the wet insulation caused it to cave in.”

  “I thought insulation was pink.”

  “Not in a hundred-year-old home.”

  “Eww.” She looked so cute the way she scrunched up her nose.

  He couldn’t help laughing. “I’ll call my insurance agent tomorrow.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  “Good point. I’ll just talk to him at church.” He pushed away from the railing. “I’m sorry I wasted your time tonight, Grace.”

  “Wasted my time? Oh, you mean as opposed to me hanging out inside my camper all night to escape the rain?”

  “In that case, I’m glad I could provide a little excitement.” His boot scuffed against the wooden porch planks. “Still, we didn’t accomplish much.”

  “We have one item.”

  He jerked his gaze to hers. “We do?”

  “The money?”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.” He was procrastinating now. For whatever reason, he didn’t want Grace to leave. Standing in front of her, he continued. “Thank you for helping me, Grace. You pitched right in. You were a real trooper.”

  Even in the dim lighting he could see the blush that crept into her cheeks as she looked up at him. “Nah, just a reformed petty officer. When water is involved, my instincts kick in.”

  “Either way, I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He stared down at her, wanting nothing more than to take her into his arms and hold her close. To run his fingers through her hair and feel its softness. To taste the sweetness of her lips.

  Raking a hand through his hair, he turned away. “It’s time to get you home.”

  A while later, as he watched her disappear into her camper, he pondered what it would be like to have someone like Grace at his side all the time. A partner. A helper. Someone he could walk through life with, knowing that if he stumbled, they wouldn’t let him fall.

  Grace was that kind of woman. Bu
t, come September, she’d be gone. And he didn’t have a clue what he’d do without her.

  Chapter Eleven

  A shopping trip in Montrose with Mama Sunday afternoon was an unexpected treat. And considering Grace’s all-too-basic wardrobe, one she intended to take full advantage of.

  “What about this one?” Mama held up a silky turquoise tank top. “It would look beautiful on you.”

  Grace fingered the delicate material. “You don’t think it’s too dressy?”

  “Not at all. This would go great with jeans, shorts, a skirt...just about anything.”

  Since Grace didn’t have a lot of fashion sense, she appreciated her mother’s flair for style. “Okay, I’ll try it.”

  Grace continued to peruse a rack of shirts, amazed at how much lighter she felt since talking with her mother and Kaleb a few days ago. It was as though a burden the size of an aircraft carrier had been lifted from her shoulders.

  A part of her wondered if by not signing over her portion of the house before she left Jacksonville, it allowed Aaron some invisible hold over her. But in her heart, she knew it was because she had finally acknowledged her bitterness toward God. And while she still had a long road back to a fully restored relationship, she was at least talking to Him again, if only to voice her displeasure.

  “This is cute.” She showed her mother a deep burgundy T-shirt with black and silver embellishments, grateful that God had reconciled them. After Daddy died, Grace was so wrapped up in her own grief that she failed to consider how much Mama must have been hurting. For that, she was ashamed. Mama had lost her best friend and the only man she’d ever loved. And Mama had stayed by his side until the very end.

  “Oh, yes. Very nice.”

  After Daddy’s funeral, Grace went back to Florida and Lucy returned to school, leaving Mama to pick up the pieces of her broken heart all by herself. The realization had Grace thanking God for bringing Roger and Mama together. From now on, she would judge Roger for the man he was, not the man she believed him to be.

  Standing on opposite sides of the rack, they continued to flip through hangers.

  “So have you and Kaleb made much headway for the museum?”

  “A little.” Grace slid one shirt after another from right to left. “But that leak in his roof kind of stopped us in our tracks.”

  “Has it been difficult for him? Going through all those memories.”

  “Yeah.” Grace picked up a tangerine tunic, then put it back. “The first night was really tough on him.”

  “Oh, I hate that this is causing him pain. We want this event to be touching, but we also want it to be uplifting.”

  “I know that. And I think he knows that.” She contemplated what Kaleb had said about blaming himself, but wasn’t about to share something so personal. “Still, there’s a lot of stuff in there that puts him face-to-face with the friends he lost.” She approached her mother, who was holding an armload of clothes. “Okay. I think I’m ready to try—”

  Mama grimaced momentarily, holding a hand to her chest.

  “Are you okay?” Grace stepped closer.

  “Yeah.” Mama waved her off. “Just a little indigestion, that’s all.”

  “Are you sure? Do you need anything?”

  “I’m fine, baby.” She handed the clothing to Grace. “You go try these on. And don’t forget to come out and model for me.” Just like when Grace was little. But she didn’t mind. Matter of fact, she was actually kind of enjoying shopping for a change.

  “I’ll be out in a sec.” Inside the dressing room, she tried on the red-and-black T first. Yuck. The colors were fine, but the style did not fit her at all. Better let Mama have the last word, though.

  She strolled out of the dressing room.

  “It’s...okay.” Her mother cocked her head this way and that.

  “No worries, Mama. I don’t like it either.”

  The woman looked relieved. “Okay, good.”

  Next one. The turquoise tank. She slipped it over her head. Looked in the mirror. Yep, this one was a keeper.

  Again, she headed into the store. “Mama?” Her mother was slumped against the wall, seemingly struggling for each breath. Grace rushed to her side. “Tell me what’s wrong, Mama.”

  “I—I—” She gasped for air. “My chest. Hard to—”

  Tugging the cell phone from her back pocket, Grace dialed 911.

  “9-1-1, please state your emergency.”

  “It’s my mom. I think she’s having a heart attack.” Grace swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d already lost one parent. She was too young to lose another. Not now. Especially not now. She and Mama were finally forming a bond. “We’re at Avery’s Style Mart. Hurry. Please.”

  By the time the paramedics arrived, Mama was whiter than Grace had ever seen her. Grace clung to the woman’s hand. “I’m right here, Mama. I’m right here.”

  Roger.

  He’d taken out a tour today. She glanced at her watch. Three o’clock. He probably wouldn’t be back for another hour.

  While the paramedics evaluated her mother, she dialed his cell phone. No answer.

  Not knowing what to do, she dialed Kaleb. “I need your help.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, but I think Mama might be having a heart attack. I need to let Roger know.”

  “Where are you?”

  “We’re in Montrose. I don’t know. Do they have a hospital here?”

  “Yeah. A good one, too. She’ll be in good hands.”

  She could feel tears stinging the backs of her eyes. “Tell Roger to hurry.”

  “Grace?”

  “Yes?”

  “God’s got this, all right. I’m praying for both Donna and you. You just stay calm and be there for your mama.”

  A sob caught in her throat as they loaded Mama onto the gurney. “I will.”

  Grabbing her mother’s purse, she followed as they wheeled Mama to the ambulance.

  “Miss? Oh, miss.”

  Grace turned to see a clerk trotting behind her.

  “The shirt. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to pay for it.”

  She glanced at the price tag, grabbed a wad of bills from the back pocket of her jeans and handed a twenty and ten to the clerk. “Keep the change.”

  “Will you be following us?” The female paramedic looked back at her as they loaded Mama into the ambulance.

  “No.” Still holding her mother’s red cross-body purse, she climbed up behind them. “I’m coming with you.”

  With sirens wailing, they set off for the hospital.

  Inside the ambulance, they started an IV on her mother, as well as an EKG. Before they could do any more, they arrived at the hospital.

  Grace couldn’t remember her heart ever beating so wildly.

  As they opened the back doors of the ambulance, her mother looked at her. Behind the oxygen mask, Grace saw a look of fear. One that seemed to say, “Don’t leave me.”

  She was pretty scared herself. But she had to stay strong. “I’m still here, Mama.” She reached for her hand. The woman grabbed hold and Grace squeezed.

  Then they pulled the gurney from the vehicle, breaking the connection.

  Grace followed as they rushed through the automatic doors, into the emergency room.

  “Female, age fifty-nine,” one paramedic rattled off. “Possible heart attack.”

  She looked down at her mother. Though she didn’t think it possible, her mother had grown even more ashen. “We’re here, Mama. We’re at the hospital. They’re going to take good care of you.”

  They rushed through another set of doors, then made a quick left into a triage room.

  Fluorescent lights glared overhead as they transferred Mama to the hospit
al bed. Nurses pulled on blue exam gloves and hurried to connect monitors.

  “BP is one-sixty over ninety,” said another paramedic. “Heart rate one-ten.”

  The flurry of activity had Grace pressing her back against the wall. She didn’t like feeling so helpless. But what could she do?

  Pray.

  Pray? That was something she hadn’t done in a long time. Okay, so she was talking to God again. But praying? That involved faith. Believing that God might actually do what you were asking.

  There was a time when she believed God heard her prayers. That He interceded on her behalf. But now? Did she trust God to help Mama?

  A tiny spark somewhere deep inside her told her that she could. But she’d have to choose to believe.

  God, I know You’re there. And I know that You know what’s going on down here. Please be with Mama. Comfort her and protect her. She drew in a shaky breath. God, I can’t lose her. I wasted so many years being angry with her. She swallowed hard. And You. Forgive me. Please.

  Lucy. Grace needed to call her. No, she’d wait until she had some news. And then face her sister’s wrath. Lucy would have a cow if she knew Grace hadn’t called her immediately.

  Pulling out her phone, she moved just outside the door where she could still see and hear everything that was going on.

  “Hey, Grace. What’s going on?”

  “I’m in the emergency room. With Mama.”

  “Oh, no! What’s wrong?”

  “We just got here, so I don’t have any details, but she might have had a heart attack.”

  “A heart attack? Mama?” Lucy’s voice quivered. “This can’t be happening.” Grace imagined her sister shoving her fingers through her long blond hair. “We can’t lose her, too, Grace.”

  “I’m not about to let that happen, Luce. I need to go now, but I promise I’ll call you back just as soon as I know something.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Grace.”

  “Mrs. Hamilton, do you have any allergies?” she heard one of the nurses ask as she reentered Mama’s room.

  Did Grace even know the answer to that?

  The nurse punched the information into a computer.

  “Do you have a DNR?” Why did the nurse continue to badger her mother? Couldn’t they see she was struggling just to breathe, let alone talk?