A Man's Heart

by Lori Copeland

  She flipped back a page and glanced at the date. May 24. She turned back. May 25. Blank. Where was the data for May 25? The night Pop died.

  Blood pumping, she stepped to the John Deere calendar Pop kept over his work bench. Leaning on her tiptoes, she flipped back to May and studied the date.

  Her mind reeled, going back over that evening. She’d planted the experimental tubers. The phone rang. Her heart double-timed. The awful news that Pop had been in an accident. She was brain dead from finals and lack of sleep —

  She hadn’t written down the hybrid mix.

  Impossible! She always wrote down the experimental tubers. She returned to the notebook, dumping it upside down in hopes that she’d penned a note and left it inside the book. Nothing fluttered out. Shaking the spiral pad, she willed the combination to come out, but nothing materialized but dry crumbs.

  She lowered the notebook to the bench and sat down, dropping her face into her hands. She had created the perfect potato. A few days under a heat lamp and she’d know if the product was perfect. And if it were …

  She’d forgotten to write down how she achieved it.

  Chapter 13

  Gunshots pierced the air. The annual Fourth of July rodeo galloped into full swing. Red, white, and blue banners draped the outdoor stadium. Fireworks popped and sizzled in the distance.

  The sleek mare bolted from the start gate and Jules mentally prepared for the pocket. She knew Maddy’s speed like the back of her hand; was she feeling frisky tonight? Settling deeper into the saddle, she gripped the pommel, legs tucked closely to the horse’s side; her leg to the inside of the turn, supporting the animal’s ribcage to assist her to effortlessly make the tight turn. Maddy cleared the barrel.

  The crowd roared as Jules flanked the mare, focused on the second barrel sitting across the arena. Taking the turn in the opposite direction, she shifted her weight to the left side. This one’s for you, Pop.

  Barrel two cleared, she galloped headlong to the back of the arena amid cheers, hoots and whistles.

  “Come on, girl, make this one for Sophie,” she whispered as she aimed for the final goal. Racing against the stop watch, she let Maddy do the work. The animal turned opposite the second barrel turn, completed the final turn and headed for home as the crowd swelled to their feet with applause. Horse and rider raced across the center of the arena.

  Falcon Merit hit the stopwatch, a grin breaking across his rugged features. “13 seconds! Hot diggity!”

  Jules reined up, breathless. “That’s a record, isn’t it?”

  “It shore is, girlie! Best of the season!”

  The crowd roared its approval as Jules reined and accepted her victory. Sweeping off her hat, she waved to the crowd.

  Jules felt the cloud of doom that she’d been living with lift. She flashed a grin at the crowd. Day five and the experimental potato looked even better. No rot. Root free. Sophie was looking forward to eating her first real meal when the tube came out. Jules had learned to not look at Pop’s chair at the table or his old recliner—it made the days easier. Breathing in victory, Jules whooped!

  She reined Maddy back to the corral, dismounted, and gave the horse an affectionate pat. “You’re the best!”

  She spotted Joe Fraker from the corner of her eye and she whirled to hug him. “Didn’t I tell you Maddy was the best little mare around?” Her gaze skipped to the stands where Cruz and Adan sat with the kids. Did Cruz even notice her performance? He appeared to be unusually absorbed with the kids, trying to control them on the cramped bleachers.

  Joe returned the embrace. “Your pop would be proud as punch of his little gal.”

  “Thanks!” She grinned. “I can’t wait to phone Sophie and tell her.”

  “Wanna brag a little, huh?”

  “A little.” She flashed another grin. “Next year she’ll whip my fanny.”

  Joe fell into step with her. The arena sat in the middle of a dusty field, and rodeo nights could be hard to catch a breath without a breeze. She took a deep breath, thankful to be home and to have college behind her. Ride horses, feel the wind at her back.

  “Thought Crystal would be here tonight,” Joe mused.

  “She didn’t say anything about wanting to come.”

  “And you didn’t invite her.” Joe glanced her way. “You better put that stubborn streak aside. I know you and your sister ain’t close, but you’re a big girl now with big girl responsibilities. Crystal didn’t have much choice in the situation, and neither did you.”

  “I know that.” Her gaze caught the holding pen that restrained a big, black snorting bull. Black Devil. “I’d still love to ride that animal.”

  “You’re joking. Tom only brings that old bull to events for sentimental reasons. Black Devil’s son, The Terminator, is the one to ride these days.”

  “The Terminator, huh?” She eyed the massive bull. Ladies didn’t ride bulls. Wasn’t that Pop’s philosophy? The community agreed, but not Jules. Like God would strike her dead if she dared to enjoy the life he had given her?

  Joe’s voice broke through her resentment. “Back to your situation. You’re heir to the Blue Bayou whether you like it or not.”

  She didn’t like it. The more she was forced into the role, the more she resented it. She could use some help, thank you. She had helped Pop all of her life, knew her way around a potato planter, but raising a crop, keeping house, managing the bills and settling the estate wasn’t easy. If Crystal would do something other than play with Sophie’s children! Pick up after herself, run a load of wash, cook a meal. Instead, she stood back as though she were a guest in the house.

  Sometimes she wondered if God was punishing her for her aimless spiritual drifting. She’d sure done nothing to grow in faith these days, but God had no reason to be angry with her. She skipped church pretty well on a weekly basis, but she intended to get back in one of these days. She didn’t talk vile like some she knew, and she honored Pop until the day he died. She’d done her duty; she had stayed at Blue Bayou.

  Her gaze drifted back to the bleachers where Cruz and Adan corralled the kids. Most certainly she’d given Cruz a reason to resent her. Her eyes skimmed the once cocky teenager that had grown from an awkward teen to a good-looking man who attracted women like flies to honey. Sophie’s letters said women adored the single bachelor. And Adan had his fair share of female admirers. A group of young women surrounded the bachelors, taking charge of the children.

  Cruz ignored her every possible chance he got. When they passed at the hospital, he barely acknowledged her presence. Lately she went early afternoons so he and Adan could have evenings with Sophie. Tension was starting to wear thin. The brothers talked of moving Sophie to Kennewick, but she begged them to let her stay closer to the children.

  So all right. Cruz was never going to forgive her; she was spoiled and bratty, if you believed his former accusations. Her attention remained on the bleachers where he was now holding up little Olivia so she could see the bronc rides. She’d been the fool; knew it from the moment she broke the second engagement, known it for certain a year into college but pride had anchored her to her goal. She didn’t want more education; she wanted Cruz and babies and a home of her own. For the first time, she allowed the implication of her need to sink in.

  She wanted nothing more in life than Cruz and his babies.

  It was the first time in a very long time that God clearly revealed the missing element in her life. She had been grasping for years to wrap her fingers around this bizarre, unexplainable curse called indecisiveness, and now, in the middle of a rodeo ground, on a hot summer night, he’d addressed her prayer.

  Joe’s voice drew her back. “Saddle up. Calf roping coming up next.”

  Shaken, Jules led Maddy to the pen, her eyes still on Cruz.

  Chapter 14

  Tucking her gloves in her back pocket, Jules made her way to the concession stand. She’d taken second in calf roping; Sophie would get a kick about that one, but she’d been busy th
e last few years and she was a little rusty on her skills. Plus she was getting older. The old bones weren’t quite as limber as they’d been in her teens. Teens. She grinned. That had been over a decade ago.

  The concession line was backed up to the porta potties, which were backed up to the arena entrance. Jules threaded her way into line and waited. Up ahead she spotted Cruz holding Ethan by the hand. He looked as tight as one of Pop’s hatbands. Biting back a grin, she pictured him wrestling a five-year-old around in a tight, stinky space, trying to help him “go wee wee.” The picture didn’t compute. Cruz had a weak stomach and the second image she got wasn’t pretty.

  She stepped out of line, pushed her way to the porta potties, and approached the tall good-looking man. “Want me to take him?”

  Relief flooded his features. “Would you?”

  “Sure.” She extended a hand. “Come here, big boy.”

  Ethan stepped to her side. “Hi, Aunt Jube!”

  “Hey there.” She glanced at Cruz. “I’ll bring him to you when we’re finished.”

  He walked off, but not without a backward glance and a hint of a grin.

  Thanks. No problem. Be glad to help. Would it have killed him to thank her? Would he choke if he congratulated her on the win?

  Twenty minutes later, Jules burst out of the porta potty and released her breath in a gasp. Ethan wrinkled his nose. “Shooeee.”

  “Shooeee is right, sweetie.” She hitched up the little boy’s jeans and secured them. Fresh air was wonderful.

  “Aunt Jube?”

  Ethan said. “What is it, honey?”

  The child pointed to the concession stand where the line had thinned. Children were carrying fat cherry snow cones back to the bleachers. “You want a snow cone?”

  He nodded.

  Jules reached for his hand and they approached the concession line. Later, she steered Ethan and balanced two cherry snow cones back to the stands where Cruz, Adan and Livvy sat near the top. She climbed the metal riser, steadying the little boy and snow cones.

  Cruz glanced up when she approached, horror forming on his face. “What’s that?”

  Jules led Ethan to his lap, spilling sticky red liquid on his snakeskin boot. He glanced down.

  “Snow cones. Ethan wanted one so I knew Livvy would too.” She smiled and handed the little girl her treat.

  “Aunt Jube!” Livvy reached to hug her, snow cone in hand. Jules winced as the red liquid seeped down her back.

  “You bought the kids snow cones?” His tone indicated that she had lost her mind.

  Loosening her blouse, she shuddered as ice trickled down her back. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  Livvy climbed from Cruz to Adan, dripping red juice. Flies buzzed Adan’s head. He took a swipe, and then reached in his back pocket for a handkerchief. “Thanks a lot, Jules.” He flashed a grin.

  She reached to position both kids between her and Cruz. “Stay,” she ordered. The children settled down, licking their cones.

  She glanced at Cruz who was now fixed on the bull rides. Well, how awkward is this? Her sitting here next to him as though they were all one big happy family.

  Adan shattered the palpable silence. “Congratulations on the win!”

  “Thanks. I thought I was a little rusty. I haven’t ridden much in the past few years.”

  “Nah, you’re still in great form.” Her eyes met his dancing ones. He could always lighten the mood. “Been meaning to stop by and give you my regrets. Your dad was a great man.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s good to have Crystal back.”

  Jules nodded. Cruz, Crystal, Adan, and she had spent many a summer evening chasing fireflies and eating watermelon. They’d ridden the school bus and attended church together. “She’s decided to stay and help until Sophie comes home.”

  “That’s what she said.” He nodded gravely. “We drop the kids off, but I haven’t had a moment to tell her how much we appreciate her help.”

  He’d left the obvious unsaid; a moment without Cruz present. The thought that he was forced to accept anything from her had to irk him.

  Of the two, Adan was closer to Sophie than Cruz, maybe because Cruz was older and Adan spent more time with his sister in their younger years, but both men would do anything for her. The past few weeks had made that apparent. Two young children to care for was trying for a saint, and neither Cruz nor Adan had an abundance of patience.

  Livvy tipped her cone and sticky liquid gushed out covering Cruz’s left foot. He sprang to his feet, reaching for a napkin. “Come on, Livvy.” Spectators turned to locate the ruckus.

  “Sit down,” Jules muttered. “You’re making a scene.”

  “I just bought these boots a few months ago.”

  “A little snow cone juice isn’t going to hurt them.” Cruz didn’t have the money for expensive boots, nor would he settle for something he didn’t want, so the boots were important to him, but if he was going to have the care of a two-year-old he’d have to make sacrifices. Still … A moment later she weakened. “I’ll go get wet towels and clean them.”

  His eyes fixed on the arena. “I’m perfectly capable of cleaning my boots.”

  “Fine.”

  He scooted away from her and hugged the bleacher rail.

  “Fine.” She crossed her arms. She’d scoot away if she could, but she didn’t cherish the thought of tumbling out of the bleachers.

  The remainder of the ride they sat in stony silence.

  Sometime after midnight, Jules pulled the Tracker into the farm lot. After the rodeo she’d hung around with a few old friends and reminisced, turning more than once to share something with Sophie, but she wasn’t there. Instead, she was lying in the hospital, battling surgery complications. Years away from her best friend, Jules had learned, even understood herself better. She always told people the truth, however painful. She had a tenacity to push herself and others beyond their limits to help them grow, see things in black and white, but doubted herself far too often. Sophie was always positive, uplifting, and had an answer for anything. Only now her best friend was starting to question God’s intentions. The bowel obstruction was still there, and the daily treatments were dragging Sophie down. But she was strong and gut-determined to start her chemo and come home before summer’s end.

  Switching off the lights, she climbed out of the truck and hit the lock button, a habit she acquired with all the theft going around. When she walked into the house, she heard the sound of Daffy Duck drifting from the den television. Peeking around the corner, her jaw dropped when she spotted Crystal, Olivia and Ethan cuddled beneath a large throw. Daffy lisped “th-his is a downright diss-grace!”

  “Crystal!”

  Crystal started, her hand flying to her throat. “Jules. For goodness’ sake. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  Jules entered the room like a bull out of the shoot. “What are the children doing up this late? What are they doing here at all? Adan and Cruz had them earlier.”

  “I know. I got lonesome, so I called and asked if the kids could spend the night. Cruz didn’t mind, said he had to clean his boots anyway and he’d prefer to do it in peace.”

  Guilt flooded Jules’s mind. She had thoughtlessly not asked Crystal to the rodeo. She’d spent the whole night alone.

  “Those stinkin boots.” Jules switched off the lights, kicked a throw pillow aside. The man cared more about his boots than his niece and nephew. She caught her thoughts. That wasn’t true. He adored Livvy and Ethan, but he was fastidious and kids were messy.

  She walked through the house turning off lights. Every bulb in the back part of the house was lit. Crystal had no sense of responsibility or the high cost of utility bills. She stepped into the kitchen and paused. Apparently the gang had popped corn. Oil splattered burners; kernels, popped and raw, littered the floor. Kitchen cabinets stood open. Dishcloths hung out of the drawers.

  Crunching across the vinyl, Jules swallowed her anger. She’s tr
ying, Jules. You have to give her that.

  Crystal appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

  She whirled. “Look at this mess! Has the house been ransacked? Burglarized?”

  Her sister’s eyes skimmed the clutter. “I’ll clean it up.”

  “Why would you leave it like this? Is this how you keep house?”

  Crystal assessed the damage. “Pretty much.”

  “Well it’s not how I do it.” Jules slammed the corn popper into the sink and turned on the hot water. Steam bellowed up.

  “Did you lose tonight?”

  “No.” She turned to face Crystal. “I won. Why?”

  “You’re in such a temper.”

  “Look at this house, Crystal! I’ve been patient but this has got to stop. I can’t run this farm, raise potatoes, help with the kids and oversee the household. If you want to help, you’re going to have to do your share.” Jules hated the aggressively direct and insensitive tone that now crept into her shout. Yes, shout. And she never shouted. She was tired, had red sticky syrup dried to her back and was in no mood to deal with this tonight, but resentment poured out. If Crystal thought she was a guest here, she was sadly mistaken. Blue Bayou was her home too. Guilt swamped her. But it wasn’t her home. Pop had seen to that. She brought her hands to her temples. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spouted off like that.”

  When she looked up she saw the doorway was empty.

  Sinking into a kitchen chair, she buried her face in her arms. Why did she resent Crystal so much? She wanted the warm, fuzzy relationship other women had with their sisters, but she didn’t have that with Crystal. Crystal was an irritant, and she was powerless to know why. She didn’t blame Crystal for choosing Mom over Pop—if anything she blamed herself for letting Mom down, but Pop seemed to need the help and Mom and Crystal had always been close.