Coming Home to Texas

by Allie Pleiter

  “Did you and Derek plan to have kids?”

  Now, there was a volatile subject. “We talked about it. We both wanted them, but there was a bit of friction about when. Derek wanted to wait until he opened his own restaurant.”

  “That sounds like smart thinking,” Nash offered.

  “Sure, until you realize that goal was years away. Not that Derek wasn’t gaining notoriety fast enough to up the timetable, but that still would have put us starting a family a long time from now.”

  “And you want to start sooner than that?”

  Ellie slumped against the booth. “You know, before Wylene’s I would have said yes. But seeing all my high school friends as moms, their lives all taken up with family stuff, well, I’m not so sure anymore. It seems like such a huge responsibility to carry all that off. I’m a bit scared of it, to tell the truth.”

  “That’s because you’re spooked right now. And based on what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound like Derek would have been much of an equal partner in the parenting department. I see it in you, Ellie. With the right guy at your side, you’ll be a spectacular mom.” When Ellie and he both sensed the weight of that statement press down a bit too heavy between them, he added, “I hope he comes along soon.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed, her heart a tumbling ball of confusion. “Me, too.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  At the next program session the following afternoon, Ellie looked around the room. Her heart glowed to hear the splendid sound of needles clicking. Five of the six girls had caught on in a jiffy, and while Ina Jean was struggling a bit, the girl’s face was scrunched with determination to master the stitches.

  “See,” Ellie said, pointing to the row Ina Jean had just finished. “Not a single mistake in that one. You’re catching on fast.”

  “Look at my rows.” Dianne—always quick to lead but just as quick to boast—held up a nearly finished cotton piece.

  Ellie had given each of the girls brightly colored cotton yarn to make a dishcloth—a fast project with a yarn that made it easy to see the stitches. Ellie saw Ina Jean’s face fall in defeat. Her progress, far behind that of the other girls, threatened to steal her confidence.

  “You are fast, Dianne. I’ll give you that. But take a look at your rows. If you slow down a bit, your stitches will be more even. This isn’t a race.” Ellie directed her attention to the girl steadily stitching beside Dianne. “It’s much more about the process, at least for me. Does anyone know where Marny is?”

  “I saw her at school,” Caroline said. “She didn’t say anything about not coming today.”

  “Well, maybe something came up at the last minute,” Ellie replied, trying not to read anything into the girl’s absence. “Tell me, Caroline, do you like the feel of this yarn?”

  Caroline, who had the most artistic bent in the group, held up her lavender-colored cotton and ran it between her fingers. “It’s okay. I mean for a dishcloth and all. I’d want something softer for a scarf or whatever.”

  Ellie had been waiting for just such a comment. “Then take a feel of this.” She pulled a hank of bison-silk blend—exactly the kind she’d envisioned for Blue Thorn Fibers—from her bag and handed it to Caroline.

  “Wow.” Caroline’s face registered her appreciation of the exquisite feel Ellie knew well. “I’d wear anything made from this.”

  “Exactly my point.” Ellie caught the eye of each girl in the room. “Some low-cost fibers are good for some things—basic, sturdy things like dishcloths and socks—and others are worth the expense for things that go next to your skin.”

  “Socks go next to your skin,” Lucy said, stretching out those long legs of hers as Caroline handed her the bison-silk yarn. “I despise lumpy socks. My mom buys awful ones from the resale store and says ‘They’re just socks.’ But I hate the way they feel.”

  Ellie remembered high school and what it had felt like to wear something she hadn’t liked or that felt woefully out of fashion. During the harder years at Blue Thorn, she’d mostly worn resale shop clothes that had made her feel frumpy. Her brain pulled up an image of willowy Lucy with a diaphanous lacework shawl draped over her shoulders—that girl would look and feel like a princess. “You’re right, Lucy. Some things like socks ought to be both—they need to be basic and sturdy, but you want them to feel soft and wonderful. In fact, I’m with you one hundred percent on the socks. And that’s the great thing about bison fiber—it’s really strong and really soft at the same time.”

  “And probably really expensive.” Lucy had such resignation in her voice as she handed the hank over to the next girl.

  “Crazy expensive,” Marny called from the doorway. “I looked it up on the internet at school. Who can afford seventy dollars for something stupid like yarn?” She didn’t come in the room, only stood in the doorway.

  Ellie didn’t know what to make of a statement like that. It was clear from Marny’s eyes and the jut of the arm on her hip, however, that she was not in a good mood.

  “It’s steep. I’ll grant you that,” Ellie agreed as she tried to catch Marny’s eye. “But remember socks made with bison yarn can be twice as warm and wear twice as long as ones made with wool. That makes it a good investment. Which is why I’m investing two hanks in each of you girls, so you’ll have something really wonderful by the end of our time together. After all, you helped us gather the hair and down. You’ve earned it. So you all will be the first to receive hanks of Blue Thorn bison yarn.”

  “What am I gonna do with $150 worth of yarn?” Marny scoffed. “I could buy a ton of new clothes with that much money.”

  The other girls seemed happy at the gift, their eyes popping at Ellie’s gesture. “Really?” said one. “You’d do that?” balked another. With a chill Ellie realized these girls may have never received a gift as indulgent as the hanks of expensive yarn. Marny’s remark just went to show Ellie how their lives were clearly about frugal necessities—luxurious treats happened rarely, if ever.

  Every woman—especially every young woman—ought to feel cherished enough to be given lovely things, even if it’s just every once in a while. The past few weeks had showed her that in no uncertain terms. The urge to run out and buy each of them something perfect, exquisite and absolutely frivolous welled up so strongly within Ellie it was a good thing they couldn’t all fit in her car. Here she was feeling boxed in by what Derek had done to her, and this moment showed all the freedoms she enjoyed. She was her own person, making her own money, pursuing a career in a satisfying field. When she was ready, she could work anywhere in the country—in the world, for that matter.

  “I don’t need yarn like that. I can’t stay in this thing anyway. I just came to tell you I won’t be coming back.”

  “Marny, no.” Ellie stood up. “You’re the best knitter in here. I don’t want you to leave us.”

  “I don’t have time for silly crafts. I need to go get me a job, not sit here and play with yarn.” With no more than that, Marny turned and walked down the hallway.

  Should she go after the girl? Let her go and try to connect later when things weren’t so tense? Ellie looked around the room for clues about what to do.

  “I don’t think it’s silly,” Caroline said quietly. “I like being here.” Looking into Caroline’s eyes, seeing the commitment there and the pride in the knitting she’d completed, healed some of the hurt Ellie had felt at Marny’s harsh words.

  No, it did more than that. The paralysis of her broken engagement finally began to fall away for Ellie. These girls had so little affirmation. They were so desperate for someone to believe in them. Ellie had known life wasn’t over when Derek had cheated on her, but today was the first time it really felt as though life was moving on, and she was happy with the direction it was going. Happy that she’d been brought home, where she could build a connection with these girls and maybe ma
ke a difference in their lives.

  It wasn’t actually going to cost her one hundred and fifty dollars per girl to give them the yarn. She was simply giving them the first spun hanks from the fiber Blue Thorn had. They didn’t have enough raw fiber to make twelve pure bison hanks, so Ellie had arranged to use her own money to make the hanks a bison-silk blend. Seeing what she just saw, Ellie would gladly pay double whatever it cost. It felt like the smallest of prices for what these girls were giving her—perspective.

  “No, it’s not,” Ellie declared. “I believe in each of you as knitters. As young women. You deserve to have amazing things in your lives, and I want you to have the nicest yarn around to launch your knitting hobby. And I can’t wait to see all the wonderful things—” she made sure to catch Caroline’s eye “—I know you’re going to make with it.”

  * * *

  Nash poked his head into the girls’ classroom. “Break time.”

  It had only taken one session for Nash and Ellie to discover the kids were hungry after school. Snacks—provided by Grannie Buckton, who’d evidently jumped at the chance when Ellie mentioned a need—had become a welcome midprogram break. In addition to gobbling down goodies, break time also gave him and Ellie a chance to check in with each other’s progress and problem solve anything that had come up.

  Today something had definitely come up. “Everything okay?” he asked as soon as they had a moment together.

  “Not at all.” Ellie relayed Marny’s angry exit and her cutting remarks. He could see how deeply the jab had affected Ellie. He’d known something like this would happen sooner or later. “You’re the teen expert,” she pleaded. “What do I do?”

  He wasn’t an expert, but he had enough experience to expect a blowup from someone at some point. The fact that it was Marny didn’t surprise him—Ellie considered the girl her most difficult student. “I’m not sure you can do anything. At least right now. I’ll see what I can get out of Mick, but probably the best thing is to just let it sit for a day and then go try to find out what was at the heart of that explosion.”

  Ellie pulled on a lock of her hair. “I hate to see her leave, Nash. She needs this, even if she won’t admit it.”

  Nash put a hand on her elbow. “Well, maybe now’s the time to issue the challenge. We might be able to coax her back on the premise of needing even teams.”

  They’d discussed the idea of a mutual challenge for the final session where the girls taught the guys a domestic skill like sewing on a button and the guys taught the girls a basic automotive skill like how to change a tire.

  “Well, we can’t move it up to next week. They’re scheduled to clean the brushes at the ranch then.” She frowned. “It’s going to be such a great visit, I can’t bear for Marny to miss it. Gunner wants to give the kids our blue bandannas when they come back. All the family and employees of Blue Thorn carry them. It’ll mark their official installment as members of the Blue Thorn team, and he’s going to let them come back all the way through shedding season.”

  “That’s great,” Nash agreed. It meant the program would continue to have effects that would last far beyond the weeks they met. “We definitely don’t want Marny to miss that.”

  “It’s one of those great ‘everybody wins’ situations, Nash. The work gets done, the kids get new experiences and get to know the ranch, and they seem to have fun.”

  “I agree. It’s a clear success.” He put a hand on her arm. “Look, try not to let this bump in the road with Marny get to you. The fact that she’s pushing back just means that you’re getting through to her. It means you’re making a difference.” He stared at Ellie for a longer moment than he should have, sensing her commitment, feeling her hurt.

  “Miss Ellie,” Dianne shouted from across the room. “Tell Davey to stop making jokes about knitting only being for grannies in rocking chairs.” Dianne turned to Davey and pursed her lips. “I saw a website yesterday with a picture of guys knitting ski hats, and they were a lot cooler and cuter than you.”

  “The hats maybe,” Davey teased. “But not the guys. They don’t come cuter and cooler than me.” Nash set down his coffee, ready to step in.

  “I know dogs that are cuter and cooler than you,” Dianne shot back.

  “Maybe puppies in Alaska. Where they need ski hats. We sure don’t need ’em here.”

  “I’d never turn down anything you made for me,” Leon cooed theatrically to Dianne. A chorus of oohs and aaws set everyone to laughing.

  Nash walked to the center of the room. “I’d expect any of you gentlemen to kindly accept anything someone handmade for you. Just as I’d expect any of you ladies to graciously thank the man who changed your tire by the side of the road.”

  “I would,” Ina Jean said, tugging on one braid. “If they did it right.” More laughter.

  “Just food for thought, y’all,” Ellie cut in. “But I am of the belief that a man can knit just fine if he likes, and a woman can change a tire if she’s of a mind to. Am I right, Mr. Nash?”

  “You heard Miss Ellie,” Nash said. “And we’re going to see just how well that theory holds up in two weeks. A contest of skills, guys against girls. So don’t you be making yarn jokes, boys, or it may come back to haunt you. And you ladies might end up getting a little grease under your fingernails before we’re done here.”

  “But we’ll be short without Marny,” Ina Jean complained.

  “What do you mean without Marny?” Mick asked. Clearly, Marny hadn’t yet shared her plans to quit the class with him. Nash wondered just what that meant.

  “She left us,” Lucy said sharply. “Came in today just to make fun of us and tell us she’s not coming back.”

  “She can’t not come back,” Mick contested.

  “Well, you’d better tell that to your girlfriend,” Lucy replied. “’Cause from what I saw, she is out of here.”

  Mick rose to leave, but Nash put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Hang on there. You can talk to Marny after class, but it didn’t sound like she wanted company at the moment.” He turned to the whole group. “But we all want Marny back, and I hope you’ll do your best to convince her of that before next week.” He looked at his watch. “Okay, break’s over. Back to your programs.” He caught Ellie’s eye. “Let’s figure out how to handle this when we have our meeting with Theo tomorrow.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ellie’s cell phone rang Thursday morning. “Ellie, I know Nash said we were meeting at eleven, but can you come over now?” asked Pastor Theo. “Things have taken a bit of a bad turn here, and I think you could help.”

  Ellie had on farm work clothes and hadn’t yet dressed for going into town. “Sure. What’s going on?”

  “I’d rather not go into it on the phone. Just get here as quickly as you can. Actually, no—don’t come here first. Go to Nash’s house. I expect he’s home. I checked with Don and he’s not at the sheriff’s office. Bring him here when he’s ready—but I’m warning you, that may take a while.”

  “Why? What on earth happened?”

  “I really can’t go into it here, but the ballistics test from your bison evidently came back with disturbing results. I want the three of us to talk about what to do from here, but from his phone call to me, Nash isn’t in a mood to have a rational discussion. I know I probably should send Don over, but God brought you to mind, so I’m trusting that.”

  Ellie pulled a nicer shirt out of her closet and began looking for her sandals. “Sure. I’ll go to his house. And if he’s not there, I’ll call you and we’ll find him.”

  Who could those tests have implicated that would make Nash so upset? There was only one way to find out.

  “Gran,” Ellie called as she came downstairs brushing her hair. “I’ve got to go out. Tell Gunner to call my cell if he needs me.” She wasn’t ready to tell Gunner and Gran that Nash likely
knew who the shooter was. She couldn’t be certain yet, and that was probably best done by official police procedures anyway. She knew Gunner—he’d press charges as hard as he could, whoever it was.

  She didn’t have to ring the doorbell to know Nash wasn’t in the house—the sound coming from the garage let her know where to find him. The loud clang of hammer on steel rang through the air as she walked up the drive to his open garage door. Nash had his back to her, stripped to a sweat-soaked white T-shirt that clung to his skin. He was hurling a sledgehammer at a mangled piece of steel. She stayed back, warned to keep her distance by the sheer ferocity of his swings.

  After half a minute, he exhaled loudly, chest heaving from the exertion, and rested the sledgehammer on the ground. She took one step into the garage.

  “Nash?”

  He turned, and the look on his face practically made her take a step back. Sharp features framed hard, cold eyes. His whole body looked as if it was at war—strung tight and ready for battle. At the same time, a bone-weary exhaustion lurked under all the tension. He looked like a man who had fought for a long time and was ready to give up. “Theo?”

  He let the sledgehammer fall against the nearby workbench, which made Ellie feel safe enough to come closer. “He called me, yes. He didn’t tell me what happened, but I’m pretty sure I know.” She held his gaze, sensing the frustration that radiated off him like heat off a stove. “Who?”

  “Mick.”

  Mick? Her wildest guess would have never been Mick. He was the closest to Nash, looked up to him as the mentor figure Mick’s own father clearly wasn’t. If she’d had to choose which boy was getting the most out of the program, it would have been Mick, without a doubt. The punch in her gut must have been pale in comparison to what Nash was feeling. “It couldn’t be Mick.” That felt foolish to say, but it seemed so impossible that Mick would be shooting Blue Thorn bison. “It can’t be Mick.”