by Mae Nunn
Most different of all were the five girls. When they weren’t about their chores, they were underfoot in the big kitchen abuzz with the drama of school, boys and pop culture. They chatted freely within earshot of their grandma, only clamming up when Becky strode through the house in search of something Jake needed. It seemed to Daniel that anytime he went looking for Dana, he found her at the kitchen table in stocking feet, her boots dutifully parked beside the door. Fitting in with her country cousins and accepting LaVerne’s rule seemed like less of a chore now that her grandmother had loosened the purse strings on praise.
“I don’t understand it, but I sure am grateful for whatever caused it.” Daniel confided to Erin the night before the Barbecue Bonanza got under way. They enjoyed their new evening ritual of coffee under the stars while they swayed back and forth in the creaky old glider.
“Your presence has got this bunch on their best behavior.”
“You exaggerate.”
“No,” he insisted. “Under normal circumstances, there’s generally some hollerin’ and fussin’ going on. Not violent or mean-spirited, mind you. But around here, we’ve each been known to raise our voice to get a point across. And with this many women under one roof, there’s gonna be at least one hissy fit a day.
“A couple hundred campers will pull in here tomorrow and by the weekend, if the good Lord’s willin’, another thousand will show up to eat. My family should be strung tighter than a mile of new barbed wire instead of acting like Santa’s on the way.”
“Daniel, stop analyzing and enjoy it. Focus on the peace of the present day. The Bible tells us tomorrow has enough trouble for itself, right?”
“So that’s how you do it? You just deal with each day as it comes.”
She nodded. “It started out as a survival technique but I’ve learned to be at home anywhere, even in a war zone.”
Of course you have, he thought. What I wouldn’t give to have you stick around long enough for me to erase the tragic reason for those lessons.
“Well, tomorrow this place won’t resemble a war zone as much as a national sporting event. There will be motor coaches and trailers vying for position, folks tailgating, cookin’ all-nighters and plenty of music. When you see how Jake transforms the covered stock pen into a judging arena, you’ll think the home team is in the play-offs and he’s the head coach.”
She raised the thick coffee mug to her lips and shifted closer. He dared to interpret the movement as a snuggle but kept his hands occupied with his own hot drink. Though they hadn’t spoken of it, there was a softer dynamic to their relationship. Even so, he’d kept a respectful distance.
“I’m getting excited about having some unsuspecting subjects for my photographs,” she admitted, sounding like one of the teenagers. “Even the cows are starting to dodge me when the Nikon’s around my neck.”
“I know that’s right! You seem to be everywhere I turn, so you’re bound to have enough pictures of my ugly mug.”
“Not even close,” she corrected sweetly. “Besides, all this activity has been better for me than three months of physical therapy with Christina.”
He motioned to the colorful sling Dana had fashioned for Erin from red bandanas.
“Even with that thing, nobody would suspect you’re recovering from such a severe injury.”
“God’s been good,” she offered up praise.
“He has, but you’ve done your part, too.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” The comfort of her small smile settled on his face. “Having goals always drives people toward success. I was sharing that with Dana just the other day when the older girls were talking about college. I hope you don’t mind but I encouraged her to consider out-of-state schools if she settles on a music technology degree. There are some great production facilities in New York.”
The casual comment from Erin was a sucker punch to Daniel’s gut. Though he’d made his feelings about Dana’s future amply clear, Erin had interfered anyway, and in a manner that put the heat on him if he and Dana disagreed.
“There are perfectly good schools in Texas where she qualifies for in-state tuition. But when the time comes Dana and I will make those decisions together as a family.”
Erin’s eyes widened as she suddenly realized she’d overstepped. “Of course, sure. But if she should choose out-of-state, I’ll help with the cost. It’s the least I can do.”
She just kept diggin’ that hole. He took another sip, counted to ten and then calmly spoke the words that had to be said. Sooner was better than later.
“Erin, you’re right. Helping financially is the least you can do, but I’ve had college covered for years so we don’t need your money. Dana deserves more than your least, she’s holdin’ out hope for your best. For a woman trackin’ down a miracle, that shouldn’t be so hard to get your head around.”
She nodded, remained silent, didn’t recoil from their close proximity. The defensive response he expected never surfaced. Instead, he got quiet understanding from eyes sending a message he couldn’t interpret if his life depended upon it.
The more time they were together, the more confused he became, while Erin still seemed to know her mind. Her goal was never in question. Recovery was moving her closer every day to returning to the work she loved at World View. She’d be gone before they knew it and he’d have no one to blame for wanting more for his daughter and himself than Erin was capable of giving.
At best he had a couple more weeks with Erin and two more years with Dana. He’d pray for wisdom on how to deal with his losses as they occurred. But right now he would do as Erin suggested, focus on living day by day.
He stood and stretched out his hand. “We’ll work through that when the time comes.”
Though she was no longer physically dependent upon it, Erin accepted Daniel’s help by taking his hand. As his warmth connected with the chill that had overcome her, she said a silent prayer for courage. Daniel was a straight shooter, said and did what was on his mind so you knew where you stood.
It was time she returned the favor.
Daniel hadn’t made a single overture since he’d mouthed the words I love you, obviously unaware her camera was trained on his rugged face. For days Erin had been waiting for the opportunity to respond. If she didn’t take action soon, she might never hear the words spoken intentionally.
So, before he could release her hand or she could lose her nerve, she took a step closer. Erin faced Daniel toe-to-toe, slipped both arms around his waist and pulled him near enough to feel the cool metal of his belt buckle through her T-shirt. She laid her cheek against his chest, breathing in the scent of laundry detergent and cinnamon.
Mmm, clean.
His body offered no encouragement as she persisted with her silent, one-sided hug.
Mmm, Daniel.
“Mmm, what?” he asked.
“Did I make that noise out loud?” Good grief, I’m a loser!
He took pity, brought his arms close and returned the light pressure of her embrace.
“Yes, you did. I suppose it has something to do with the way I smell after baking a dozen pans of apple cobbler for tomorrow.”
“And you were very mean to deny anybody a sample.” She used the pretend pout that seemed to work for Dana.
“The waiting makes it that much sweeter.”
She tipped her head back. “I can’t wait any longer, Daniel.”
“For cobbler?”
“You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?”
“Don’t you think I deserve to hear it?”
“You most certainly do.” She brushed the tip of her tongue over her lips and released a sigh. “Daniel, will you lean down here and kiss me?”
He hesitated. Not a sign it had been a good idea for her to step out on this ledge.
“Pretty please?” she asked
“Well, since you put it so nicely,” he murmured, his mouth already hovering so close she could taste the warm sweetness of his breath. The urgency of his kiss
stole what little reserve she’d been trying to hold on to. This was sixteen years in the making. His palms smoothed upward on her low back, ribs and shoulders gently urging her closer. Daniel told her with his kiss what she hadn’t yet heard in words.
This wonderful man, this committed father, this brave Texas Ranger, still cared for her.
Only the Heavenly Father understood how much she’d come to love Daniel in return.
He ended the kiss but kept her folded in his arms. Her cheek pressed close to the insistent beating beneath his ribs.
“Erin, when this madhouse settles down in a few days, we need to talk about our future. With Dana to consider, there’s a lot to work through, but nothing we can’t work out.”
Her own racing heart plummeted. He was concerned for their daughter’s future at a time when most red-blooded men would be entertaining selfish thoughts. Erin didn’t know whether to applaud his parenting or stamp her boot at his foolishness.
But putting family first was the very essence of Daniel Stabler.
“You’re right,” Erin agreed. “There are probably a hundred details we have to iron out before I head back to New York.”
New York? Daniel thought. She’d fit perfectly in his arms moments ago, but the very mention of the city made her back stiffen as if a gulf had opened up between them.
Of course she’d be thinking about getting back there. Even though life was a bare-bones existence when she was on the road, there must be glamour waiting in the city that never sleeps. She was in his home until she recovered enough to be on her own. She hadn’t given him any encouragement to believe otherwise.
Until now.
He’d quit while he was ahead. Sort of.
“We can pick this conversation back up in a few days. Tomorrow’s going to be busy for everybody, so let’s call it a night.”
He held the screen door for Erin who preceded him into the house. LaVerne was putting the last of her baked goods into individual containers for the sale that would start tomorrow.
“Son, would you help me finish up so we can have a private word?”
“Well, good night.” Erin took the hint, continued down the hall and closed the door to his old room behind her.
Daniel knew the drill. He grabbed a sandwich bag and sealed six peanut butter cookies inside. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed help? We could have been doing this with you for the last hour.”
“No, I wanted to be alone and keep my hands busy while I prayed about how to tell you something.”
He stilled. “What is it, Mama?”
She rinsed and dried her hands and motioned for him to follow her to her room. Beside the bed was the heavy carton of letters Erin’s boss had delivered.
“You brought these home with you?”
She shrugged. “Well, Erin said I could read ’em and I never got around to it while we were still in Houston. I once wrote a note of encouragement to Betty Ford but other than that, I wouldn’t know a fan letter if it bit me on the nose. So I was curious to find out what would make all these strangers write to Erin.”
His mama had sorted the large box of opened envelopes and then stacked them according to subjects scribbled on pink index cards.
“Most of these folks try to describe somethin’ in one of Erin’s pictures that threw them for an emotional loop. The letters from the soldiers will just break your heart, Daniel. Those kids are so grateful to Erin for voluntarily being with them, capturing things they could never explain with words. I think there’s potential here for a book.”
“A book? Hmm, that’s an interesting concept.”
“But not what I wanted to talk about with you.”
His mama was not one to mince words. She definitely needed to spit out whatever she’d been chewing on. Such discomfort and reluctance on her part was scarier than a Stephen King novel.
“Just tell me what it is.”
“I’ll have to show you.”
She lifted a thick stack of envelopes that were still sealed, some yellowed with age and others appearing fairly new.
“There’s no return address but they all have the same handwriting. The postmarks from San Angelo are spread over the last ten years.”
“You didn’t open them?” He could already see that for himself.
“I was afraid to do that for fear of who they might be from.” She was rarely guided by restraint. Something was really troubling his mama.
“Like whom?”
“Like a man. What if there’s been another man in Erin’s life and you don’t know anything about it?”
“If that was true, why wouldn’t he know how to reach her in person and why wouldn’t she want to read his letters?”
“That’s why I brought them to you. To be honest, son, Erin doesn’t want anything to do with all these letters. But they’re too powerful to be kept in the dark. Or worse, destroyed. And this bunch from San Angelo is just downright creepy. I’m putting them in your hands and trusting you and the Lord to figure out what to do with ’em.”
Chapter Thirteen
Erin thrived on pandemonium. She found comfort amid racket and chaos.
That about described the arrival of a couple hundred contestants for the Double-S Bonanza. The carefully choreographed madness looked for all the world like a barbecue chef smack down.
All remaining soreness from her pelvic injury had subsided days ago. Constant walking had been the perfect therapy. And constant companionship had been the perfect medicine.
She’d pushed past her left-handed awkwardness. The limited dexterity of her right arm no longer made her self-conscious around others. In the months ahead, Erin would press her recovering limb toward a wider range of motion and work her uncooperative fingers to the bone with that gob of Silly Putty.
For today she was satisfied with her level of improvement and, to use Daniel’s expression, she was champin’ at the bit to get to work.
The fresh country air was charged with competitive pride and braggadocious friendship, qualities that motivated Erin to make the acquaintance of every single entrant over the two days it took them all to arrive and set up camp.
As a woman bearing professional camera equipment and a notepad, she was welcomed and regaled with the four gospels of barbecue sauce; vinegar and pepper, mustard, light tomato and heavy tomato. While each newcomer positioned the grill just so, Erin received a fresh batch of coaching on dry or wet rub and pork ribs versus beef brisket. She learned barbecue is a noun, not a verb. And anybody who thinks otherwise is likely to call home someplace north of the Mason-Dixon Line.
“See, way back in the 1500s it was the Spaniards who introduced the pig to the American Indians and the Indians showed ’em how to slow cook it with smoke. That’s how authentic barbecue was first eaten and the good Lord meant for it to stay that way.” The side of Charlie Mullin’s Bluebird motorhome proclaimed him “Texarkana’s Sultan of Smoke.” Charlie shook his gray head, sorry for those who didn’t have the facts straight. “Most folks have no historic connection to barbecue and they’ve been hoodwinked into thinking any piece of grilled meat qualifies. It’s sad, I tell ya.”
Erin had never been inclined to put captions with her photographs. But these slow-cooking foodies from every walk of life and all parts of the country had her chuckling and jotting notes. Before she knew it, Erin was mentally preparing the argument that would convince J.D. to support her in a fund-raising effort. If she was as popular as he claimed, maybe her reputation could sell a few coffee table books to help out the West Texas Boys Ranch. With three boys of his own, J.D. would be an easy sell. While getting a book published wasn’t his expertise, he knew the people who could make it happen.
By the end of the second day, her spiral notebook was full of anecdotes and the kernel of an idea was shooting up green sprouts. The more she put stories behind the pictures, the deeper the roots sank. It would be a new type of challenge, something within her ability. Something lasting that would help others.
Something
she could share with Daniel and Dana.
“Erin, your phone’s been ringing all afternoon.”
LaVerne pointed down the hall where the cell was charging on Daniel’s rolltop desk. It hadn’t chirped in ten days and Erin didn’t miss it one bit. Vegetable soup simmered in the kitchen, a nice change from the wood smoke of the camping area where lazy wisps of white snaked above the Double-S.
Alone in the bedroom, Erin slipped the camera from around her neck and lowered it to the surface of the desk. She rolled both shoulders and stretched side to side before settling into the high-backed leather chair to check for missed calls.
J.D. had phoned eleven times! Her heart raced from the surge of adrenaline that always accompanied an unexpected communication from the chief. Had the World View execs changed their minds? Had they decided to let her go after all? Erin took a moment to consider the possibility. Even though J.D. had repeatedly insisted her position was safe, nothing was certain in today’s economic climate with jobs being lost right and left.
She relaxed against the comfortable chair that belonged to a confident and loving Texas Ranger. As Erin’s pulse slowed, a strange calm settled into her body and spread over her spirit. She would be fine.
She bowed her head.
“Father, I’m no longer certain about Your will for my life. It always seemed clear that You were leading me to faraway places where no one else would go, to catch images another person might miss or avoid. I still feel like I have so much work to do, but boarding a transport to travel halfway around the world doesn’t hold the appeal it once did. Lord, give me the grace and courage to accept whatever comes. Thank You for my healing and for Your mercy that is new every day. Amen.”
She pressed the call return button and took a deep breath. He answered right away.
“Hey, boss. It’s me.”
“Well, it’s about time.” J.D. sounded anxious, but in a good way.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting. It’s busy out here and I’ve been getting to know the contestants.”
