by Wendy Ely
Her heart broke as Noah’s face drained of color. He was hurt. She could see that, and she
was angry at herself for having taken so long to make a decision.
“Well, why don’t I make your decision a whole lot easier, Samantha?” he said calmly. He let go of Jesse before he turned and vanished from the doorway.
“Noah! Wait!”
Jesse smiled and walked toward her. His hand reached out to her. He took a ring from a velvet box and slipped it on her finger. Jesse tried to grab for her, to pull her into a hug. The smell of his cologne she would have swooned over before, suddenly made her nauseous.
“No, I need to get him,” she said trying to push his hands way from her.
He held on tighter. “Samantha, don’t go after him. I’m the better man. I can take care of you the way you deserve.” Jesse tried pulling her to him.
She gave one final yank, freed her hand, and glanced down at the shiny diamond on her finger. Right ring, wrong guy.
The ring dropped onto the floor. She ran out of the living room, even though she could hear his truck start up near the barn. He’s leaving, she thought, he’s leaving me. The front door flung open as he drove up the road. There was no way she’d be able to catch him.
“Samantha, he’s always been good at running away, and I doubt he’ll ever change,” said Jesse as he pulled her into his arms. “Honey, it’s not your fault.”
She fought to wrangle herself free from his grip. “Jesse, I’ve made my decision.”
“But we can have a happy life together. You can have whatever you want with me,” he said kissing her neck. “I love you.”
She pushed away from him. She turned to face him.
“Even if he won’t take me back, he’s the one I love.”
CHAPTER 24
Samantha sat drinking lemonade on the front porch as she pushed the swing back and forth with her bare foot, her eyes fixed on the road Noah had gone down. It had been hours since he’d stormed out and she prayed his truck would come back up the driveway. She couldn’t believe he was gone forever.
“Did he come back yet?” asked Dad from the front door.
“No, Daddy. Why did you laugh instead of stop it?” she asked sadly.
“You’re the smartest person I ever met. I knew you would make the right decision.”
“I lost him anyway.” She hid her face in her hands.
“It’s getting dark. Come in and eat some dinner.”
She felt her father’s touch on her shoulder. “I’m not hungry.”
“He’ll be back,” he said as he walked away from her. The front door clicked shut.
She looked back toward the road. He has to come back. He loves me. She kept hearing the words Jesse had said about Noah leaving the people he loved. Now he’d left her too.
Head lights glowed in the darkness. She stood. It had to be him. He had to be coming back for her. She sucked in her breath as the lights became brighter. The car that pulled in the driveway was tan with a big green emblem on the side. The door read Alban Sheriff and came to a stop near the porch.
“Daddy!” she screamed. Within a second, he scrambled down the porch steps toward the car.
“Is Noah in trouble?” he asked her quietly.
She gripped her hands together and walked silently next to her father as the sheriff got out of the car.
“Good evening, Mr. Johns.”
“G’evening, Sheriff. Is there a problem?”
“There is. Can we go inside to have a chat?” The officer kept his face twisted in a frown as he walked toward the house.
Her heart raced as they walked together. Had they done something wrong? Was Noah hurt? Was Mom trying to get Dad in trouble for something? Whatever it was, she knew everything had gotten worse. Her world was crumbling around her.
Samantha followed behind the deputy and her father up the front steps. Dad gestured toward the porch chairs. Less personal.
“Please sit down,” said the sheriff as he took his spot on the chair. Samantha and Daddy sat on the porch swing. Her bare foot pushed against the wooden decking, making the swing sway back in forth.
“What are you here for?”
“There’s been an accident,” said the sheriff.
She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. The swing stopped moving. “Is Noah hurt?”
“I don’t know anything about anyone named Noah, but Frances has been in an accident…Well, not really an accident.”
“What do you mean?”
“She hit a telephone pole. A witness claims she ran her car right into it down on Main Street.” He glanced down at the clipboard in his hand and then back at her and Dad.
“Is she okay? We can go and see her. Right?” Dad didn’t move except when he spoke.
“No. I need you to come with me to identify her body.”
* * * *
Dead? Her mother couldn’t be dead. Maybe the sheriff had made a mistake? Samantha shook her head. No, of course they hadn’t.
She couldn’t look at her mother dead in a casket. She wasn’t even sure if she could attend the funeral. Her had mother said she was leaving, then went to kill herself. That rationale didn’t make sense to her. Confusion formed into questions repeating themselves over and over. Would she have ever been good enough for her mother? Obviously, she was for Noah but she’d ruined that and was a prize for Jesse. Was she the cause of her mother’s suicide?
She sat in the sheep pen with her back against the wooden slat fence and tried to think of one praise from her mother. Her arms were folded across her midsection while her head rested against wood as she watched the sheep graze around the pen. Blank. She couldn’t recall a single moment when her mother had given her any encouragement.
She needed Noah. She wanted his arms wrapped around her so she could cry on his shoulder. She wanted him to be the one to wipe away her tears while she told him she’d chosen him. She wanted all this but had a dreaded sense she wasn’t going to get any of it.
“I need to get out of here,” she thought. There was more to think about than her sour love life. Like Dad, who hadn’t slept in his own bed since her mother had died. He’d need help with dealing with her mother’s death. Most likely, if she stayed here, he’d hold it in and not grieve. If she left, Noah would return and her father would be able to release his sadness. He wouldn’t need to be strong for her sake. With her mind made up, she rose from the ground, petted the sheep, then walked out of the pen.
She quickly went up to the house. Daddy had been gone for over an hour and without knowing what he was doing in town, she needed to hurry. Daddy would most likely try to talk her into staying for the remaining month of the summer. She couldn’t, so that meant she wouldn’t.
She rushed to her room and opened her closet. Pushing most of her clothes in her suitcase, she thought of Noah and her dad some more. The impact of her mother’s death really hadn’t hit her yet but it would eventually. It all would. While carrying her suitcase out of the room, she paused by her parents’ bedroom door. Setting down her suitcase and duffel bag, she pushed open the door and walked inside. Her mother’s things sat half thrown into her own set of suitcases. It looked as though she hadn’t taken anything with her.
Why hadn’t Mom taken her things? She crossed the room to the small desk in the corner. Her mom’s box of stationary sat on top. A single sheet sat on the desk with Mom’s elegant handwriting covering the paper. She sat down in the chair but made sure not to touch the paper in case the sheriff needed it for evidence in the future.
Dear Martin,
I’m sorry for failing as a wife to you. It’s clear that I no longer have a place in your life as a wife or an overbearing mother to Samantha. I never really fit in around here and I see now, that is okay. You two need each other and not me. I must move on. I do love you and Samantha very much. Please tell her I am sorry for causing her so much misery in her short life. No matter what she does with her life, she will be a success. I wish I could’ve
told her but now it’s too late.
Frances
She didn’t notice the tears until she was done reading. Her mother didn’t hate her after all and should’ve confessed it before her death. All of this would’ve been different. Her mother’s jewelry box stood untouched on the dresser. She opened the drawer and pulled out the locket. A silver heart pendant hung on the chain. She held the heart to her chest and let more tears fall. There was no need to open the locket since she knew whose pictures were inside.
After slipping the locket into her pocket, she grabbed her belongings and went down the stairs. She scribbled a note to her father and went out to her car, then tossed the luggage in the back seat. She was in a hurry. A hurry to get back to her unemotional and organized life.
* * * *
His attendance was not mandatory. It would even be understandable if he declined the invitation. Noah’s personal reasons led him there, even though Frances had hated him.
They stood against the sink in the men’s bathroom. The funeral was about to start. The men had tried to sit in the pew to wait, but Noah’d noticed how much Martin had been struggling with all the teary-eyed people that approached him. Martin slumped in the pew while he didn’t offer any condolences.
“Have you told anyone the cause of her death wasn’t an accident?” he asked.
“No. I don’t want to, either. The sheriff guaranteed me he wouldn’t release that information,” answered Martin.
“It’s probably for the best.” “It might be, but you know what? I feel like I’m deceiving everyone,” Martin’s voice grew softer. “I feel like I’m here on one big lie.”
Someone pounded the bathroom door but he didn’t move to unlock it. Banging echoed through the bathroom once more before the person gave up or went to find Pastor Morgan. He didn’t care. The glowing numbers on his cellphone told him it was almost time. Two minutes until the service anyway.
He patted Martin’s shoulder and flipped the lock on the door. The door swung open to reveal three unhappy looking men.
“Oh, sorry to bother you, Mr. Johns,” mumbled one of the men as he lowered his eyes to the floor.
“It’s no problem, Wiley,” replied Martin as they hurried past the group.
They took their spots in the front pew. Amazing Grace bellowed from the organ. Tears began to flow all around Noah. He closed his eyes. Please let Samantha show up here, he prayed. Please let me open my eyes to find her standing next to me.
She hadn’t called or written. At first he’d been sure she’d run off with Jesse. Martin had started to ease into the discussion of her several times. He’d cut Martin off each time, then couldn’t take it anymore. He had to know. Martin informed him that she’d turned Jesse down and had gone back to school. Music to his ears.
The loss of her transformed itself into little worms that ate away at his heart. He wanted her. He needed her. He couldn’t have her.
A harsh voice next to him snapped his eyes open. Lucas. Wonderful.
“He needs to sit back there,” Lucas declared.
“The hell he does,” Martin fired back.
“But he’s not family.” Two elderly people stood behind Lucas. Both of them nodded in agreement.
“Sit here and shut up or leave,” hissed Martin. He turned toward the front of the room. Martin’s arms crossed over his chest as he moved in between him and Lucas.
Pastor Morgan opened his Bible on the podium. His words floated over the mourners as he led them in prayer. Noah heard sniffles all around him.
Frances had been loved in the community. It was something she strived for. Such a shame she wouldn’t let her daughter love her.
The eulogies painted a pretty picture of Frances. The women took turns recognizing all the good deeds she had done for Alban, showing pictures of her at various charity events.
He drank it all in. Martin hadn’t looked at one photograph or acknowledged any of the people who spoke of his wife. His hands were folded on his lap, his eyes cast down to the floor. Poor old man.
* * * *
“Martin?” The pastor called into the microphone for the third time.
Noah nudged Martin with his elbow. Was he okay? Noah looked up at the pastor, shrugged his shoulders and then looked back at him. “Are you okay?
“Damn it,” Martin whispered. “I can’t do it. I can’t lie about Frances.”
“Go up and read what’s on the paper.” He nudged Martin again.
“Then can we leave?” He slid to the edge of the pew.
“Yes. Get up there. I’ll take you out of here as soon as you’re done.”
Martin reluctantly got up from the seat and took a shaky step forward. He glanced over at the exit sign but continued on. The paper shook with his trembling hand. He raised the microphone, then cleared his voice. Talk. Damn it!
“Hello, everyone,” he began. He cleared his throat again and wiped a bead of sweat that formed on his forehead. “I want to thank you for coming here and paying your respects to Frances. You all were important in her life.”
A few people nodded while several sobs broke out into the air.
He took a deep breath. “I loved her because she was my wife of thirty years and the mother of my child. I will miss her companionship. The best part of memories is that the bad tends to fade away while the good parts stay forever. That’s how I will remember Frances Lynn Johns.”
He wiped his eyes on a handkerchief he had pulled out of his pocket. Noah rushed to his side and guided him down to the pew.
“I couldn’t read the eulogy,” Martin whispered.
“I know, but we’ll keep it a secret.” He offered Martin a smile even though it wasn’t going to make the situation or feelings change any.
“Noah, let’s go.”
Noah nodded.
“I want to go back to the ranch. Is that okay with you?”
* * * *
Back in the truck, Noah sighed. The problem had been weighing on his mind. There would never be a good time for this. Might as well get it over with.
He glanced at Martin, who was staring out the window with his chin in his hand. He didn’t envy the guy one little bit.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, breaking the silence.
“Yeah?”
“You’ve become like family to me…”
“Yeah?” Martin asked while he continued to watch the country scenery as it passed by the window.
“But I…umm…” He didn’t think he could do it. The thought seemed so much easier than putting it inaction. His decision would hurt Martin. He didn’t want to do that.
“What, Noah?” Martin looked at him, waiting to hear those fateful words. “Spit it out.” “It’s time for me to move on. I know half of the ranch belongs to me but I want to transfer it to Sam.”
CHAPTER 25
Damn it, he could barely say her name in an even voice. How would he ever live without her in his life?
“It’s about her.”
“No,” Noah said.
“Bullshit.”
Noah had never seen so much fire from the man. He didn’t know if he should be happy at the display or worried.
“Okay. It’s about her. You need her. I’m the one keeping her away.”
They had made it back to the driveway. He turned the ignition off but neither made any effort to get out.
“I know you love her. I also know Sam very well. It’s not too late to fix things.”
“Martin…”
“But if you feel like you need to give up the farm then I’ll support your decision.”
He nodded and thanked the old man as the sheriff’s car pulled in behind his truck.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Let’s go find out,” Martin suggested as he pushed open the passenger door and stepped out of the truck.
Couldn’t be anything bad. There was no way Martin could handle another tragedy. He followed Martin over to the Sheriff’s car. His hands slid into the pockets of the black slacks
he had worn for the funeral.
“Mr. Johns, Mr. Combs.” The sheriff tipped his hat. Sweat dripped down from his gray hair underneath.
“What can I do for you?” asked Martin, his voice staying surprisingly firm.
“I have something to report about Frances’s death.”
