by Helen Gray
Callie frowned as he came toward her. “Of course not. I...” She stopped when she realized he was teasing her. “What in the world are you doing here?”
He stopped next to her and shrugged. “I thought it would save you time if I give you a ride to see Jolene.” His face formed an expression of mock sorrow. “But I’m too tired to drive.”
Callie rolled her eyes upward. “You’re full of applesauce.”
“But you would like to go for a drive and see Jolene, wouldn’t you?” Another appealing grin. His eyes glinted as they swept over her.
Yes, she would. And it would get her there a lot faster than walking. Callie let her eyes meet his for a moment, and felt the by-now-familiar connection between them. She considered refusing, and gave up. The rascal knew she wanted to go see Jolene, and that she couldn’t resist a chance to drive a motorized vehicle.
“Let’s go.” She set off and got in the truck. She placed the books she carried on the seat between them and gave the wheel a loving touch.
The drive went way too fast. When they got to the Delaney house, Irene spotted them from the clothesline along the side of the yard. The young girl came to greet them. “Jolene’s in the house taking care of Mother. Dad’s down at the barn.”
“I’ll go help your dad while Callie visits your sister.” Trace struck out in that direction.
Callie followed Irene inside to a room where Jolene sat in a chair beside her mother’s bed. She looked tired and sad. “What can I do to help?”
Jolene looked up. “Pray.”
“I do that regularly. What else?”
Jolene’s eyes went to the heap of soiled clothing and linens on the floor. “She can’t keep anything down. I had to give her an extra dose of medicine so she could sleep.”
Please, Lord, be with this family. Strengthen them.
Callie scooped up the laundry. “I’ll take these outside and wash them.”
“Not yet.” Jolene patted the chair next to her. “Tell me how your day went at school.”
“I’ll get the wash water ready,” Irene said from the doorway.
Callie smiled at her. “Thank you.”
“She’s been a big help through all this,” Jolene said as her little sister disappeared. “She washes dishes and carries in wood without complaining.”
Callie gave Jolene a quick summary of the day and then went to join Irene in the kitchen. An hour later Callie had clean linens hung on the line in the backyard. As she started back inside, she spotted Sam Delaney and Trace coming from the barn. She waited for them. “I’m ready to go home.”
“She’s my chauffeur,” Trace told Sam with a chuckle.
The man smiled at Callie and shifted his full milk pail from one hand to the other. “Thanks for being such a good friend to my girl. She needs you right now.”
“Tell her I’ll be back every day if I can.”
Callie enjoyed the drive home, but when she pulled up near her house, the life drained from her. “I’m afraid they’re losing her this time,” she said quietly without moving to get out.
Trace reached over and covered her hand on the steering wheel, his touch warm and comforting. And more. “You’re right. Sam told me the doctor said it’s only a matter of time.”
Tears stung Callie’s eyes. She dragged in a calming breath and fought the knots of tension in her stomach—and the emptiness that struck her when his hand withdrew. A sudden urge to kiss him made her scoop her books, grab the door handle and scramble out before she could make a complete idiot of herself. She felt his eyes between her shoulder blades as she hurried to the house.
Tuesday Trace appeared after school again. And Wednesday.
“Don’t you have a business to run?” Callie chided as she met him at the truck.
He shrugged. “Sales aren’t exactly hopping these days. One person can keep track of everything. Dad only works half days, anyhow, and he said he doesn’t care which half he works. So he’s shifted to afternoons for a while.”
He got in on the passenger’s side. Recognizing a good thing when she saw it, Callie got behind the wheel and drove to Jolene’s.
Isabelle Delaney looked so lifeless and frail that Callie couldn’t bring herself to ask questions. She just went about helping Irene fix supper.
The rest of the week followed that routine. Saturday’s swap meet had another good turnout, and Clem was a great help.
Callie knew as soon as she opened the schoolhouse door Thursday afternoon and saw Trace standing on the steps that he bore bad news. “Is it Jolene’s mother?” she asked softly as students filed out past them.
“Ellen Dace called about an hour ago and said Jolene asked her to put out the word that her mother passed away this afternoon.” The town’s chief telephone operator often issued messages to the public for local citizens.
As soon as she could get ready, they headed to the Delaney house. When they got there, Callie knocked on the door and got no answer. “They’ll be here soon,” she stated with certainty. “They’ve most likely gone to the funeral parlor.”
“You’re right.” Trace led her back to the truck. When they got in, he slid over close to her. She didn’t protest when he placed an arm across her shoulders. His eyes held warmth that wrapped around her heart. His subtle masculine scent made her head swim.
“You and Jolene are very close, aren’t you?” His pupils darkened as they traveled the features of her face.
She nodded, her nerve endings vibrating. She drew a deep breath before she could speak. “She’s the best friend I’ve ever had. We went to school together, and she always treated me as an equal, never as poor white trash. She made me laugh, and we shared our dreams, our mistakes and our silliness. After high school we wrote each other regularly, and when I came back home we reconnected as if we had never been apart.”
“I suppose you visited in her home and knew her parents well.”
“We didn’t spend a lot of time in each other’s homes. We were too busy to run around much after school, but when I was at her house her parents always treated me with kindness. Isabelle has been ill for a long time, and Jolene has been more of a mother to Irene than a sister.”
“You have taken care of your family, as well.” He traced a finger along her jaw, their faces hovering mere inches apart.
Callie’s lips tingled under his scrutiny, and her heart thudded inside her chest.
As his face moved nearer, she forgot to breathe. She was crazy to want him to kiss her, as he clearly intended to do. Yet she didn’t pull away.
The sound of a car pulling in startled them. In an instant return to sanity they jumped apart. Callie scrambled to open the door and hurried to meet Jolene as she, her dad and Irene emerged from their car. All their eyes were red rimmed.
Callie wrapped her arms around Jolene. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
Jolene shook her head. “Take care of the school for me the rest of the week.”
“You know I will, for as long as you want.” She knelt beside Irene and opened her arms. The ten-year-old stepped into them and gave her a fierce hug.
Callie got up and extended a hand to Sam Delaney. “You have my condolences, sir.”
“Thank you.” He spoke gruffly and blinked his eyes. “The funeral will be next Saturday morning.”
“If you’ll lie down and get some rest, I’ll go home and come back later with some food. I’m sure you’ll have company arriving soon and don’t need me underfoot.”
Callie looked down at Irene. “Will you see that she rests? And you do the same.”
Irene nodded and clutched Jolene’s hand. “Yes’m.”
The week passed in a blur for Callie. The funeral Saturday morning was well attended, and most of the people followed the hearse to the cemetery. During those final moments
at the graveside, Callie stared over at the location of her brother’s final resting place and felt an extra bonding with her best friend, a joining in the heartache of loss. They went back to the Delaney house and worked side by side feeding people afterward.
“I can return to school Monday,” Jolene said as they watched the last of the neighbors get in their cars and wagons to leave.
Callie could see that she was in no condition to return to work yet. “Why don’t you let me do one more week so you can rest and spend extra time with your dad and Irene.”
Jolene massaged her forehead. “Okay.”
“Good.” Callie gave her a hug.
Sunday morning during church Callie sat with her parents and sister, her mind drifting.
“Those motorcars so many of you drive need gas to run.”
The pastor’s words brought her to attention, as any conversation about cars tended to do.
“Without gasoline, a car will grind to a halt. So will you. We should fill ourselves with the gas of God’s words and time in prayer. But don’t just pray on Sundays, or when you’re out of gas in your spiritual life. Prayer is not a ‘spare tire’ you can pull out when in trouble. It’s a steering wheel that directs us along the right path all through the week.”
Callie grinned slightly. Now she knew what was wrong with her. She was out of gas.
It really wasn’t funny, though. She was tired of being poor, of being afraid of going hungry, of always having to be strong and see that bills were paid, of never-ending work.
Lord, I’m empty. Please fill me, give me the strength to do whatever I must.
Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
The remembered words from Matthew 11:28 comforted her.
Monday after school when she dismissed the students, Callie was surprised to find Trace outside as usual. Confusion struck her. Uncertainty. She was thrilled to see him. It was insane to continue this crazy pattern of contact. What did he want of her? Why didn’t he stay away, let her get over him?
“I don’t need to go see Jolene every day,” she said as she approached him, proud of how steady she managed to speak while everything inside fluttered and trembled.
He pushed away from the truck. “I know, but I wanted to let you know that Leon made another arrest today. One of our local residents made the mistake of meeting with a crony from Saint Louis. The guy was mad over not getting the load of stuff he had been promised from the Lonigan still. He showed up in town and started giving Dempsey a hard time about it.”
Callie gasped. “You mean the Dempsey who bought the hardware store last year?”
He nodded. “He moved here to find liquor sources for his gangster bosses. He bought the store to give him a legitimate reason for moving here, and access to information and connections. Anyhow, when the crony, who was sent by their bosses, threatened him, they got in a fight. Dempsey pulled a gun and shot the guy. Leon arrested him. He’ll be taken back to Saint Louis and turned over to the authorities there as soon as Leon can arrange it.”
He got into the truck, waved and drove off, leaving Callie to absorb the implications of this latest news. It was another sign to try to get on with her life.
* * *
Clem bounced in excitement on the wagon seat beside Callie as they pulled up behind the dealership Saturday morning. “Oh, good. Trace is here.”
She hopped down from the wagon before it had hardly stopped moving and rushed to where Trace waited near the back door to let them inside. As attractive as ever, he wore charcoal pants and a white shirt under a dark jacket.
Callie took her time unhitching the horses and leading them to a spot under some trees where there were still a few tufts of drab grass for them to nibble. She tethered them and returned to the wagon, sneaking a peek to see Trace turn from the door through which Clem had just disappeared.
He came to meet her. “Do you have things I can carry inside for you?”
Callie shook her head. “Only this.” She indicated the single sack she had taken from beneath the seat.
He stepped a bit closer to her, which made her back up against the side of the wagon.
“I can’t stay this morning, but I’m going to leave my truck here so you can use it to make deliveries after the swap meet.” He pressed a key into her hand.
“I have the wagon,” she pointed out breathlessly.
“But the truck is faster. And I know you like to drive it.” A teasing grin accompanied the second sentence. “You can just bring it back here and leave it when you get done.”
“But what will you drive?”
“I’ll be fine. I have business here in town, and I can drive Dad’s car.”
A tiny flutter in her midsection made Callie almost dizzy. She sidestepped to go inside.
He placed a restraining hand on her arm. “There’s something I want to ask you.”
Callie went still, finding his face closer to hers than expected, and waited.
He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a small packet. “A little bribe first.”
Callie’s eyes rounded. The sight of a candy bar transported her back to the time when a frightened seven-year-old watched her mortally injured brother get carried away, an eleven-year-old Trace befriended her and fed her a candy bar and her childish heart fell into his hands.
“You remember,” she whispered, her salivary glands coming to life, unable to believe the message of remembrance in the darkness of his penetrating eyes.
“You were so sweet,” he breathed in a husky voice. “So scared, and so hungry. Take it,” he urged when she didn’t move.
Callie swallowed, lost any will to resist and took the treat.
“Dad and I bought the vacant lot behind the business for parking space. I need to record the deed at the courthouse one day this week. Will you go with me? We can take a drive through the countryside afterward and enjoy the autumn foliage before the leaves die and the colors fade.”
Callie couldn’t move, speak or hardly breathe. At this point she would probably have agreed to jump into a well. “When?”
“Whatever day would work best for you.”
His beautiful smile nearly blinded her. Her brain barely functioned, but her sense of duty brought her mother’s face to mind. “Mom really needs my help Monday and Tuesday. Late in the week would be best.”
“Friday, then. After our drive we can go eat somewhere.”
She nodded mutely, wondering if she had lost her sanity. He hadn’t used the word, but this sounded like a date.
“Callie!”
Clem’s shout from the doorway broke the tenuous connection between them. Callie gave her head a quick shake and backed away. “Coming.” She turned and fled inside, hoping her little sister didn’t notice the flush in her cheeks.
* * *
Trace produced a satisfied grin at how he had convinced Callie to go out with him. It amazed him how the prospect of spending that much time with her made his heart beat faster.
He was moving on with his life—literally. He had found an older widow who wanted to take in a boarder to help her with expenses. He knew Mrs. Jenkins from church and was familiar with her difficult circumstances. It seemed a comfortable arrangement.
He inhaled the earthy fall scents as he carried his belongings from his truck into the house, whistling softly as a picture of Callie filled his mind. He knew by the way she blushed when he looked at her that he made her uncomfortable. He loved the way her midlength black hair framed her oval face. He loved the balance of high cheekbones and skin the color of cool cream. Her physical appeal surpassed any of the many pretty girls he knew, to be sure, but it was something deeper that drew him. An inner beauty and strength of character that the others lacked.
As he hung his clothes in t
he closet, the desire for a home of his own rekindled. Before Joanna’s death he had bought a piece of property just outside the city limits and planned to build a house on it as soon as they could afford it. After her death he had dropped those plans and focused his attention on the business. Now the buried vision replayed in his mind. Could he afford it now? He thought so. He would start looking into the possibilities next week.
Chapter 11
September had slipped into October with hardly a notice. Then the temperature had dropped from the seventies to the fifties, and a blaze of color began to paint the countryside.
Callie’s thoughts took a direction of their own. She hadn’t told anyone about her date—or whatever it was—with Trace this coming Friday. She hugged the secret to herself.
His image haunted her. Those penetrating deep blue eyes under dark, even brows seemed to see right through her. His mouth didn’t smile a lot, but when it did it dazzled her. He was strong and capable of handling himself in any situation. But she also detected loneliness in him. Could he truly be interested in such a simple girl as her?
Callie forced herself to stop daydreaming and pay attention during church. She even stayed alert enough to detect a brief, puzzling encounter. She happened to glance back as Jolene entered the church, and saw Riley get up from the back pew and speak to her at the doorway. Jolene shook her head and answered briefly, then made her way to the pew where her dad and little sister sat. She would ask Jolene about it after the service.
“You’re imagining things.” Jolene’s soft words held an underlying edge when Callie wondered aloud about the relationship between her best friend and her brother an hour later.
Callie studied the closed, sad look on her friend’s face and didn’t pursue the subject. The loss of her mother had to be affecting her deeply.
As the week passed, Callie grew quieter and more intense. Since asking her to go with him to the courthouse in Houston, she had heard nothing more from Trace. Her doubts renewed. What if he hadn’t really meant it? What if she got ready and he forgot to show up?
