Texas Miracle

by Mae Nunn

What could that be?

  “You remember our conversation after we left Joiner and Stella’s that night? All of my concerns?”

  “Sure I do.”

  “Well, they’re gone now, Mac. I love you.” Jacqueline took a deep breath, remembering the night she rocked Lilianna to sleep. “I want you. I want Kilgore and your family. I want to be a part of everything. I’m all in.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  MAC’S REACTION TO her confession of love last night had not been what Jacqueline expected. She’d expected him to be happy. After all, wasn’t that what he wanted? She’d seen the disappointment in his eyes when she’d told him before that she was afraid/confused/unsure of her ability to put down roots in Kilgore. She had hurt him then, and she knew it. It had taken their time apart to bring things together for her—a vision for the children’s home, bonding with Stella and, most of all, how much she missed him, longed for him, felt incomplete without him. But now that she was sure—wanted to be “all in,” as she had said to him—Mac had behaved like a deer in the headlights. What was the deal?

  “Good morning,” he said cordially as he entered through the office door.

  Like most mornings, she already had the heat turned up so the office was warm and cozy, and the air smelled of fresh-ground coffee beans.

  “Hey there.”

  Jacqueline’s heart fluttered like a butterfly. Even if he was acting weird, she was happy to have him back in the office. He rested his leather briefcase on the floor while taking off his suede barn coat. The cinnamon color matched his ranch-style boots, which were square-toed and rustic two-tone bison leather. A pinpoint cotton shirt with a starched collar was paired with a navy-and-brown plaid wool lapel vest with leather buttons. This, with starched blue jeans, emphasized the understated elegance that was Mac’s look—the look she’d grown to love. His cowboy hat was the color of oatmeal.

  “Coffee smells good.”

  “I’ll bring you a cup.”

  “Sounds great.”

  He strode back to his office, where she’d left a pile of carefully prepared files for him on his desk. She prepared his coffee according to ritual and carried it down the hall.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  His eyes, the color of dark honey, cast downward. She stuck out her foot.

  “Like my boots?”

  He smiled. “They look nice.”

  She had worn them for him, with brown leggings and a red-and-turquoise tribal-print shirt. A four-strand turquoise necklace and matching earrings tied everything together.

  “I’m glad they fit.”

  Jacqueline wanted to walk around Mac’s desk and plop down onto his lap. To kiss him. To breathe in the scent of leather and for him to hold her and kiss her back. She wanted to feel and know that he wanted her. But something, a sense of foreboding, kept her standing in the doorway. “Do you need anything else right now?”

  “No, thank you. I’ve really got a lot of work to do.”

  “I’ll be right here if you need me.” Jacqueline turned and walked back to her desk, feeling as if the Grand Canyon had opened up between them, and she didn’t know how she’d ever get back to the other side.

  * * *

  MAC STAYED TOTALLY buried in his work. It was true he had a lot to catch up on after his trip, and, as it was the middle of tax season, things were extra crazy. He barely came out of his office. Late hours at work obliterated the extra time in the evenings Jacqueline was used to spending with him. She would have stayed late at the office if he had asked, but there was no point. He didn’t seem to need her. And while there was plenty of work to keep her busy during the day, by quitting time, she was done and ready to hand off to Mac. They’d share a few words, maybe a sandwich, and then he’d immerse himself in numbers again.

  After repeating this scenario for a couple of days, Jacqueline called Stella on her way home from work.

  “Mac hates me.”

  “What?”

  “He hates me. I don’t know why, but he does.”

  “Jacqueline? Have you lost your mind?”

  “No, but I’m about to.” She heard Lilianna fussing in the background. “Is this a bad time? I was just calling to vent my frustration, anyway.”

  “Hold on a minute.”

  Sounds of jostling and rearranging were followed by a sucking sound, then silence.

  “Okay, I’m back.”

  “Somebody hungry?”

  “Somebody’s always hungry around here.”

  Jacqueline laughed.

  “So what’s going on?”

  “I wish I knew. It’s like he’s avoiding me or something. We talk a little bit about work in the office, but that’s it. He’s practically glued to his desk. Hasn’t touched me since the night he got home.”

  Stella sighed. “Hmm. That does sound weird. But, now, you have to know that Mac becomes a hermit during tax season. We’re all used to it. It was like, a totally radical move for him to go on that trip with Joiner. None of us could believe he actually did it.”

  “I know—I mean, I’ve been told. And I get it. We are swamped with stuff at work. I do what I can, and it’s quite a bit.” Jacqueline paused. “But he’s the CPA. There’s stuff only he can do.”

  “Right,” Stella mused. “He’s told us how much you do, how much he appreciates you. In the past, he’s not been used to that with Ella. She was wonderful, but strictly a front-desk person. She never dug into the number stuff like you have. She couldn’t. In fact, I know you’re the reason he thought he could manage taking the trip out west.”

  “Has Joiner said anything about the trip? About Mac and what he was like?”

  “Honestly, Joiner’s been working like crazy, too, since they got back. We’re understaffed at the Stables, and it’s almost breeding season for Pistol so there’s quite a bit of preparation to be done for that.”

  Stella yawned.

  “But when we’ve talked about the trip, it’s all been positive about Mac and you,” she continued. “I think Joiner teased him every time he called you. And he was quite impressed with your care package.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yes. Thank you for that by the way, making me look bad. I sent nothing of the sort for Joiner. He was lucky to have clean underwear.”

  Jacqueline chuckled. “I hardly think anything I could do would make you look bad in Joiner’s eyes. Or Mac’s, either, for that matter.”

  “I’m sorry things are awkward between you guys. Could it be just work? Mac truly is obsessive sometimes. I’m sure you know that. Or do you really think something more is going on?”

  Jacqueline pondered. “Of course I don’t expect his full attention right now. That would be selfish. I anticipated he would be stressed about work when he returned and I tried to have things in good shape for him in order to lessen his stress as much as I could... I guess I just don’t know.”

  “Maybe give him a few more days to get caught up, and then see?”

  “Yeah. I should probably do that.”

  “Meanwhile, I’ll ask Joiner if he knows anything that’s going on, okay?”

  “You’re a good spy.”

  “You know it, girl. I’ll call you if I find out anything.”

  “Thanks.”

  * * *

  AT HOME, JACQUELINE took off her work clothes and slipped into something more comfortable: a UCA Bears T-shirt, yoga pants and flip-flops. She poured herself a cup of chamomile tea, adding a spoonful of honey and some warm half-and-half. Nemesis meowed and circled for her afternoon cream. This was a ritual Jacqueline had made the mistake of starting while Mac was gone, and now the kitty expected it. She set down a saucer full of half-and-half and petted Nemesis’s head. Ears straight up, the kitten’s little mo
tor roared as she began to lap it up with her bright pink tongue.

  Jacqueline sat in one of the chairs in her living room and grabbed her laptop off the table. Earlier at work, she had seen an email from Therese at KARIS, but she hadn’t opened it as she’d been too busy. She was curious to see what it said.

  Dear Jacqueline:

  I received your email about our involvement with unaccompanied children crossing the border. The crisis definitely falls under our mission to relieve suffering “wherever children are threatened, because no child should be exposed to violence, abuse or exploitation.”

  At present, KARIS is involved primarily with mapping and assessing the child protection systems currently in place. We want to build consensus among government and society on the goals and components of such systems and their priorities, strengths, weaknesses, etc. We are hopeful this will translate into improved laws, policies, standards, regulations and services for the children. This all takes time, and it’s frustrating how much red tape there is to go through.

  However, as the current situation might also be classified as an emergency, we are in talks with different organizations on the ground to see how we might be able to assist in practical terms right now. I know there is a need for more interim housing and care for these children. Check out the links below. The stories are heartbreaking. The ORR is a good organization, but it is overrun with cases and very low on funding. They simply can’t keep up.

  If you are interested in becoming involved, I can check and see what is out there right now. It would most likely involve a move to El Paso, if you want to stay in Texas, or there are also a couple of locations in Arizona. Let me know.

  Warmly,

  T

  Jacqueline clicked on the links Therese included at the bottom of her email. She spent the rest of the night looking at pictures of displaced children and reading their stories. Elena, age fourteen, victim of rape. Pablo, age five, malnourished, scabies, lice. Mercedes, age eleven, suspected human trafficking. Rodrigo, age ten, victim of drug violence. The horrors went on and on.

  As Jacqueline immersed herself in the needs of others, a curious thing happened. She completely forgot about her troubles with Mac. The hollow eyes of the children staring back at her from her screen stirred her deep in her soul, just as they had before. This time they drew her further into their pain. But they also did something else. They filled her with a passion that made her feel alive. She knew for certain she was meant to do something to help them. But what? And where?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  NOW THAT TAX season was over, Mac could turn his attention to other things, things he’d been neglecting. His yard was out of control and he hadn’t cleaned his house in a month. He also needed to see his brothers and their families. There were a few business deals he needed to wrap up that weren’t tax related, as well. But none of this presented the level of difficulty he felt when he thought about what to do in his relationship with Jacqueline.

  She had faithfully seen him through the rush of activity at the office. Her work was impeccable and invaluable. If she stayed in Kilgore, he needed to suggest she get her CPA license and offer her a partnership. She was that good. He’d never had such an easy tax season before. But even with her there, the season had still meant many long hours. His growing customer base was a blessing, but almost too much of a good thing. Mac felt as if he was just emerging from a fog.

  And as far as Jacqueline was concerned, he wasn’t sure he wanted to emerge. Being in a fog of numbers had given him a good excuse to put some distance between them. He’d felt safe with his numbers—all of the tangibles they offered. Outcomes he could predict with absolute certainty. Problems he could solve. Going back to his routine of spending time after work, pursuing a relationship with Jacqueline, would mean going back to unanswered questions. Even though he missed their intimacy, becoming closer with her again felt like entering a little shop of fear.

  He tried to explain this to her on Thursday of that week. Tax season officially finished, deadlines met, Mac took her to lunch to celebrate. Over smoked prime rib at Triple F BBQ, Mac offered to give her Friday and Monday off—essentially a long weekend. Her plan was to take that time and go see her grandmother in Iowa, which Mac thought was a great idea. But when she invited him to go with her, he declined.

  “I really need to stay here this time, Jacqueline.”

  “Why? Aren’t you taking a long weekend, too?”

  “Well, yes, but I have a lot I need to do. I’ve hardly been out of the office in the last six weeks.”

  “I know.” Her long lashes swept downward. “How well I know.”

  “My house and yard are a wreck. I haven’t seen Lilianna in several days, my brothers—”

  “Okay, well, why don’t I stay here and help you with your house and yard? And we can go see the baby together? I’m always up for a visit with Stella.” She set down her fork.

  The eagerness in her face was touching. But Mac just wasn’t ready. “That’s sweet of you to offer, but I really think you should go see your grandma.”

  “Mac? Is this how it’s going to be?”

  “What do you mean?” He wiped his sweaty hands on his napkin.

  “I mean, I’ve been waiting till tax season is over, trying to be patient. I know there have been a lot of demands on your time. I know it’s crazy busy. But at some point if there’s not going to be time for me in your life, I need to know that.”

  Her words pierced him. “It’s not that at all.”

  “Then what is it? Because I feel like you don’t want to spend time with me.”

  “I do. It’s just that I need to take care of some things this weekend. And I’d rather you be having fun, getting a real vacation.”

  He could see the hurt and confusion in her eyes, but he didn’t know what to do about it. And explaining might just make it worse. On their way out he hugged her, trying to squeeze into that hug all of the feelings he couldn’t seem to put into words.

  She pulled away. “Okay, Mac. Whatever.” She didn’t come back to the office.

  * * *

  THE NEXT TIME Mac saw Jacqueline she was dead. The brakes failed on her brother’s Prius and she ran off the highway. Crashing through the barbed-wire fence of Buster’s land, Jacqueline was thrown from the car. Mac found her body in the field near Stella and Joiner’s house, bloody and broken.

  Mac’s heart pounded like the hooves of a warhorse. Awaking from his nightmare in the dark, he found his cheeks were wet. He fought off a wave of nausea as he sat up in bed. His whole body was covered in sweat, but he felt chilled to the bone. He fumbled for his glasses on the bedside table and flipped on the lamp. The clock read four thirty in the morning, but Mac didn’t care. He needed to call her.

  “Mac?”

  Her sleepy voice sounded like sweet music to his ears.

  “Jacqueline? Where are you?”

  “I’m just pulling out of my driveway.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to my grandma’s in Iowa. It’s a ten-hour drive from here. What on earth are you doing?”

  “I need you to come by my house.”

  “Are you going with me?”

  “No.” Mac sighed. “No, but I need to check your car—the oil and tires and brakes. I want to make sure it’s okay to drive that far.”

  “I had that all done yesterday.” She sounded exasperated.

  “You did?”

  “Yes, and everything is fine.”

  Mac had to be sure. “Where did you take it?”

  “Bobby Sewell Automotive.” />
  “Oh, good. That’s good.”

  There was silence on the other end.

  “Bobby’s the best in town,” he said.

  “Yeah, so I heard.”

  Mac wanted to tell her about his dream, about how afraid he was of losing her. But he didn’t. He couldn’t find the words. He merely said, “Well, all right. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  There was a pause, and then, “I’m not really okay, Mac.” Jacqueline’s voice shook a little. “But I can take care of myself.”

  “Jacqueline.”

  “’Bye, Mac.”

  She hung up. And when he tried to call again, she didn’t answer.

  * * *

  THERE WAS NO point in trying to go back to sleep. His sheets were wet with perspiration, for one thing, but Mac probably could have lived with that. The thing that made sleep impossible was that his mind felt like scrambled eggs. So on his first day off in longer than he cared to remember, Mac got up at 4:45 a.m. He stumbled into his kitchen, dumped coffee into the filter-cup basket, tamped it down, poured milk into the steamer, placed a large mug under the dispenser and pressed Double Cappuccino on what his brothers called his “fancy coffee machine.” Then he leaned against the counter in his boxers to wait.

  The sun was not up. It was warm in his house but cold outside, though the Weather Channel app on his tablet said it would be in the sixties later. Mac grabbed his coffee and went to the wingback chair that doubled as a recliner. He pulled up the Bible on his tablet and read the verse of the day. It was not particularly helpful: “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house...” Malachi 3:10 KJV.

  Mac remembered being in a Bible drill in the third grade and learning how to pronounce Malachi. At first, he called it “Ma-la-chee.” His brothers had snickered when the teacher corrected him, though certainly none of them would have known it. He’d pronounced it correctly since then. And tithing—giving money to his church—was a big priority in his adult life.