by Rachel Lee
“Why should you have to tell him anything? He must have known how sick Brandy was.”
Ryder looked at her grimly. “I get the feeling he thinks I didn’t do enough. Or that I did something wrong. Can’t blame him for that, can I? Let me get back to work.”
He rose, leaving one sandwich untouched, and headed back to the fields. Hard work was his only salvation.
* * *
Marti watched him go, surprised by the depth of sorrow she felt for him. She had thought she had quit feeling some time ago—at least with regard to anything except the coming baby.
She placed her hands protectively over her stomach, enjoying that connection with the future, then wrapped his sandwich in some plastic wrap. He hadn’t eaten nearly enough, she was sure, and would probably want it for a snack.
He did seem like a fixer, she thought as she puttered with household chores. Heck, look what he was doing around here, refusing to leave her to deal with her problems on her own.
Part of her felt guilty about that, but after listening to him at lunch, it struck her that it might be good therapy for him, to be able to help someone in need. To just feel useful to a woman who couldn’t help herself.
That eased her independent streak a bit. But as she tried to think what his marriage must have been like for him, the only parallel she could draw was Jeff.
Jeff had been alcoholic. Back before they’d moved out here, she’d gone to some meetings for families of alcoholics to try to understand and had simply come away feeling badly about herself. Was she somehow enabling him? She’d never been able to answer that question to her own satisfaction. She didn’t encourage his drinking. She frowned upon it. When she had been able to, she’d often just left when he was drunk and gone to stay with a friend. What was left? Divorce?
The thought had certainly crossed her mind. But every time it did, he’d dry out for a while and things would get better. Almost as if he had a radar, she thought ruefully.
But he’d taken a toll on her, too, she realized in retrospect. Little by little he had chipped away at her self-confidence until she questioned her every judgment. Even while he was digging at her, cratering her sense of self-worth, he’d tell her how much he loved her and needed her.
Then there were those damn marriage vows: for better or worse, in sickness and in health. She hadn’t taken those vows lightly, ever. Each and every time she had considered divorce, it had seemed like breaking a solemn oath and admitting failure.
Never in her life had she broken a promise. Her father had raised her to believe her word was her bond and the only measure of her integrity. Bailing out on the most important vow of her life had struck her as the worst thing she could possibly do. Each time she had seriously contemplated it, she had wondered how she would ever live with herself again.
Then Jeff had died, and after the first shock all she had been able to feel was relief. Maybe that was ugly, but there it was: truth. She had been relieved.
Loathsome though it was, she accepted it. That was how she felt, and no crocodile tears were about to change that. She might feel guilty for feeling that way, but guilt couldn’t change it.
It had to be very different for Ryder. She gathered he had struggled hard to find a way to help his wife back to health and that losing her had not relieved him. Far from it. He seemed to feel responsible in some way. Apparently from what little he had said, Brandy’s brother was helping that feeling along.
She wondered if it was wise for him to go see Ben, but she pushed the thought away. None of her business. Ryder had to do what Ryder had to do.
Just as she did. She climbed the stairs to the small nursery she had been trying to make. It was a poor attempt. With so little money, all she really had was a traveling bassinet that would work for a few months and a dresser set up for a changing table. Dreams of wallpaper and paint and a full-size crib with mobiles remained just that: dreams.
Someday, she promised herself. After the baby was born and she could find a job. Then she’d make a room that would tell Linda Marie how loved she truly was.
Until then she could only stand in the doorway, look at the few things she had been able to prepare and finally walk in and look at one of the impossibly small T-shirts and the incredibly tiny booties. She couldn’t imagine even an infant fitting into something so small.
She hugged a shirt to herself and closed her eyes, letting herself dream, however briefly, of a better future.
* * *
Ryder worked like a demon all afternoon, until his muscles ached and fatigue settled into his very bones. Just as he was dragging the last piece of twisted metal into the barn, he heard a vehicle.
Turning, he saw a sheriff’s vehicle pulling up, a tan SUV with a clearly painted star on the side and light rack on the roof. He dropped the metal, brushed his palms on his jeans and headed that way, glad to see somebody had finally gotten through to check on Marti.
The deputy climbed out, watching his approach, and something in his stance made Ryder acutely aware that he was a stranger in a place that probably didn’t see a whole lot of strangers.
The officer was tall, well over six feet, with long black hair that held a few streaks of gray. No mistaking the guy’s indigenous roots.
“Hi,” Ryder said, approaching slowly, hoping he looked relaxed and open.
“Howdy,” came the response. “I don’t remember seeing you around before.”
“I just got here in time for a huge tornado. Marti—Ms. Chastain—offered me shelter and I hung around to help out.”
“Got some ID?”
Ryder reached into his hip pocket and pulled out a wallet. He flipped it open and handed it to the deputy.
“Just the license, please.”
So Ryder pulled out his license and passed it over.
Eyes as black as obsidian scanned it then looked up. “Long way from home.”
“I’m heading for Fresno to see family. I decided to take the scenic route.”
The deputy nodded. “Hold on and stand back.”
Cripes, Ryder thought. They really weren’t used to strangers around here. But then he thought of Marti, of a pregnant widow all alone, which probably everyone knew, and decided the deputy might have cause.
He watched as the man half-slipped onto his car seat and picked up his radio. He heard his information go out to a dispatcher who sounded like an aging bullfrog.
The deputy returned but held on to the license. “Not trying to be unfriendly,” the man said. “I’m Micah Parish. We’re just careful around here, Mr. Kelstrom.”
“Be my guest. I take it the road is clear now? I promised Marti I’d fix her roof before I move on.”
“I had to do some four-wheeling to get here. You might have another day or so before you can get to town. But I’d better warn you, supplies are selling out fast. They’re hoping to get in another truckload of shingles and plywood tomorrow or the next day.”
Ryder nodded. “How bad is it? We’re getting spotty reports on the radio.” He turned and pointed out toward the bare earth path left by the twister. “You can see how close we came.”
“Yeah, I’ve been seeing that path on and off for miles. You were lucky. In fact, a lot of people were, mainly because we’re so spread out. Most of the damage is repairable, but a couple of ranchers lost their homes. Totally gone. Lots of roof damage, wind damage, hail damage, flying debris damage. I guess altogether we had four tornadoes touch down.”
“My God.”
Parish nodded. “Then, of course, it might take a week to get power fully restored. We never got around in these parts to putting the lines underground. Poles are down everywhere. We’re lucky we got phone service back in town.”
Ryder gave him a rueful smile. “Maybe you ought to put those lines underground when you repair them.”
At that he got a faint smile in return. “It’s being talked about, believe me. The thing is, tornadoes are rare around here, so we’re going to be arguing about whether we can afford the expense when it might be another five or ten years before we see something like that again.”
The radio squawked, then the froggy-voiced dispatcher said, “He’s clean, Micah. His prints are on file for licensing purposes as a general contractor in the state of New York.”
“Thanks, Velma.” Micah keyed off the radio and returned Ryder’s license. “Welcome to Conard County.”
“I already had a helluva welcome when Marti picked me up and saved me from a tornado.”
Micah chuckled. “That’s some how-de-do, I admit. Is Marti around?”
“Inside, I think. I was just getting ready to call it a day. Mind if I tag along?”
“Not at all. What were you doing?”
“There’s debris all over the place. I was worried a storm might pick it up and cause more damage. Then Marti told me those hayfields will be worthless if they’re full of debris.”
Micah nodded. “Nobody can mow it that way.”
“Unless they want to do it by hand. I don’t know how much this mess will cost her in terms of her leases, but I wouldn’t feel good leaving her in no shape to lease the land again next year.”
Micah paused and looked at him. “Do you know Marti?”
“Just met her.”
Micah seemed to measure him all over again.
“Do-gooder?”
“Fixer. And right now fixing anything feels good.”
Micah gave a slight nod and they resumed walking toward the house. “This woman needs some help, but she’s never asked for any. Probably shy, being new to the area and all. But right now, there isn’t a lot of help available.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“We do keep an eye on everyone, though, new or not.”
There was no mistaking the warning. Ryder took it in good part. Parish didn’t know him, after all, but more importantly he was glad that somebody besides him in this county cared about Marti, whether she knew it or not.
“I’m actually glad to hear that,” he said frankly. “The picture she was painting of her isolation had me worried.”
“She is isolated. Some by being new, some caused by that idiot husband of hers, some by simple distance. It’s not the best place for a pregnant woman to be alone.”
“Then maybe we need to get her to be more sociable.”
At that Micah smiled. “Might work. Folks’ll welcome her if they feel she wants to be welcomed. But if a body wants to be standoffish, they’ll respect that, too. Maybe I’ll ask Faith to run by when the roads are clear.”
“Faith?”
“My wife. The wonderful mother of my two sets of twins as well as an older daughter.”
“Sounds like she has her hands full.”
Micah shook his head. “Twins. You’d think one set would be enough, wouldn’t you?” But there was humor in his voice. “Thank God they’re getting older. When they were babies I thought neither of us would ever sleep again.”
“How old are they now?”
“Youngest set is eleven. Next are fourteen. Then we’ve got a seventeen-year-old daughter.”
Ryder, who had almost no experience with children, could hardly imagine a house that full. Not that he objected. He actually thought it sounded appealing.
He opened the front door for Micah, calling out for Marti.
“Deputy Parish is here to check on you.”
Marti appeared at the top of the stairs and began to make her slow way down. For the first time Ryder wondered how much the baby affected her balance. All of a sudden those stairs didn’t look safe to him.
But she made it and reached them with a warm smile. That smile that Ryder thought lit up the world.
“Deputy,” she said. “How nice. The rest of the world still exists? Can I get you some coffee?”
“Just call me Micah, ma’am. And I’d love that coffee. I’ve been on and off the road all day checking up on folks.”
Marti bustled around the kitchen making coffee, looking more cheerful than she had yet. Apparently it made her feel good that someone had come to check on her when she’d been feeling so alone. Or maybe she just liked the opportunity to do something for someone.
They gathered around the table waiting for the coffee and Marti asked the same question Ryder had. “How bad is it?”
“I was telling Ryder here that you won’t be able to get into town for a few days yet. A lot of roads are still blocked. And you won’t have power for up to maybe a week. So what I’m here to find out is, do you have enough food, enough gas and so on? I take it since you have running water you’ve got a generator?”
“Yes,” Marti said. “I’m not sure how much gas it has, but I think it only kicks on when I need the well pump.”
Ryder shook his head. “There’s about twenty gallons of gas out there, and the generator idles when the pump isn’t running. I don’t know if twenty gallons will get her through more than a few days.”
Micah nodded and pulled out a small notebook. “Okay, you need gas. What about refrigeration?”
“Everything’s thawing,” Marti admitted. “I’m going to need to throw a lot of stuff away soon, unless we get power.”
“Maybe I can run a cable from the generator to your freezer,” Ryder said. “If I can find an appropriate cord.”
“We’ll check that out,” Micah said, “before I leave. If necessary I can be back tonight with essentials. Anything else, assuming it’ll be two days minimum before you can get to town? And keeping in mind that there’s been enough disruption that supplies are short there, too. I mean, most of the groceries have had to dump the contents of their coolers.”
Ryder saw Marti almost sag as the dimensions of the destruction came home yet again. “If I can save what’s in my freezer,” she said quietly, “we’ll be okay for a week. I just went shopping the day before, and I always shop for a couple of weeks at a time. But if we can’t save it…”
While the coffee finished perking, Micah and Ryder went out to the pump house to check things out.
“This generator should be able to handle a freezer,” Ryder said, examining the label on the side. “The water pump, the freezer, maybe a few other things if she needs them. But I’m going to need weatherproof cords to run to the house. I haven’t seen any around.”
“Okay, tell her to keep that fridge closed and I’ll be back in a few hours. I know where to get some cords. My place.”
“How is your place?” Ryder asked, suddenly realizing he’d expressed no concern for the deputy or his family.
“We live so far out I have plenty of generator capacity of my own. Had the thing hardwired years ago because it was getting so every blizzard left us in the dark. No, we’re fine. But unless I can be sure the two of you are going to be okay, I’m taking you out of here.”
But where to? Ryder wondered as he watched the deputy drive away. It sounded like this was a bigger mess than he’d even begun to imagine.
“He left?”
Marti’s voice called him back and he turned to see her on the porch. “He’s gone to get some cords so I can run power to your fridge from the generator. He’ll be back.”
“He didn’t even have his coffee.”
“Keep it warm.” Ryder tried a smile. “He’ll be back, and then he’ll probably be ready for a whole pot.”
“He’s a nice man,” she said. “He was the one who came to tell me about Jeff’s accident. I would have liked to do something nice for him, even if it’s only coffee.”
“You’ll get your chance,” Ryder promised her. He joined her on the porch and opened the door, suggesting they go inside. As evening closed around them, the a
ir was getting chilly. “And I’d like some of that coffee right now.”
She led the way into the kitchen but didn’t object when he motioned her to a seat and poured coffee for both of them. He lit one of the oil lamps and placed it on the edge of the table away from them.
“We need to make a list of what you’ll need for the next few days,” he said. “If stuff in your fridge has been getting warm, then we can’t afford to overlook milk and things like that. You must need your milk.”
“The baby does,” she agreed. “I have calcium supplements that I could take but they make my stomach hurt. I’d rather drink milk.”
“Got a pad somewhere?”
She pointed to the fridge. He went to get it, grabbing a pencil from a magnetic cup beside it. “Okay, milk. Enough for a few days at least. Micah’s already making a list for us and if he’s willing to bring us gas, I bet he’s willing to bring you milk.”
“I hate to impose…”
He looked at her. “Sometimes, Marti, it just feels good to do something for someone else. I think you know that.”
She sighed then smiled faintly. “I’m not doing too good at the whole independent woman thing right now.”
“Of course not. Your roof has been damaged and your yard looks like Paul Bunyan went through in a hurry. Not many people could deal with that solo. If any. So quit feeling badly about needing help.”
She gave him another small smile then fell silent. When she spoke again, it was to change the subject. “I have a whole bunch of stuff starting to thaw in the freezer, but I’m not sure any of it will thaw in time to cook. I’m sorry, but I didn’t even think of dinner. I’ve fallen out of the habit of cooking every night.”
“I’m sure there’s something we can manage. Don’t worry about it.”
“But you worked hard all day. And we ate the last of the chicken at lunch. You need to eat.”
“I’m not the only one who needs to eat. You’ve got a passenger, lady. We should be worrying about you first.”
“I’ve still got one of your lunch sandwiches wrapped up. You could eat that.”
