A Family for Thanksgiving (Love Inspired)

by Patricia Davids

  She rolled back over and pulled the covers to her chin. Only time would tell. Until she knew for certain that he would make his home in High Plains, she would have to keep a close guard on her heart.

  The following afternoon, Nicki saw Clay working on the gazebo when she left school. The weather had turned colder. For the most part, the skies had remained overcast. When the sun did peek out, it seemed thin and weak and failed to melt the sparkles of frost that lingered in the heavy shade of buildings and trees.

  Perhaps it was the change in the weather that made her even more aware of her changing emotions where Clay was concerned.

  Combating the urge to cross the expanse of the park just to see the way his eyes lit up when he smiled at her, Nicki realized it was time to take a big step back.

  Turning away from the gazebo without speaking to him, she made her way home to spend another sleepless night thinking about him.

  The next day and the day after that, Clay was back again, working alone in the cold on the place that once meant so much to her. By Wednesday afternoon, Nicki admitted defeat.

  She had called her mother to pick up Kasey from day care earlier in the day. Nicki’s initial reason was that she needed to finish some paperwork after school, which she did, but it didn’t take her long. Without a pressing need to get home, Nicki was free to check out Clay’s progress.

  He didn’t notice her approach. Nicki stopped beside the growing skeleton of the structure and was once again reminded of the night she first kissed Clay—the night he vanished without a word leaving her heartbroken.

  Turning her collar up against the chilly temperature, she said, “It looks smaller than I remember.”

  Clay glanced up from his work on the floor. “I’m using the old concrete footings that were left so it will be exactly the same size it used to be. It’ll look bigger when the roof goes on.”

  “You’ve gotten a lot done. When have you found the time to work here? I thought you had a job?”

  “Mr. Porter lets me off by about two o’clock if there aren’t problems with the cattle. That gives me a few hours of daylight to work here or do other things. Some of the lumber cutting I’ve been able to do by lantern light out here in the evenings.”

  Nicki heard a shout. Looking up, she saw Tommy racing toward them. She nodded in his direction. “Looks like your helper is on his way.”

  “Greg and Maya have been letting him join me after school. The only thing Tommy wants more than to help is to remind me I promised to take him fishing.”

  By this time Tommy had arrived, out of breath and grinning broadly. “I’m here. Is it still too cold to go fishing?”

  Nicki exchanged amused glances with Clay.

  “Yup, it’s still too cold,” Clay replied. “The fish won’t bite when the wind is in the north, but we’re due for a warm up soon.”

  Tommy turned around and reached into his backpack. Pulling out a small black case, he held it up. “I almost forgot. Mom said to give you this.”

  Taking the leather pouch from the boy, Clay pulled out a red cell phone. He shook his head in disbelief. “Maya’s bound and determined that I get one of these. I don’t even know how to use it.”

  Reaching up, Tommy took the phone from Clay. “It’s simple. You press this button to talk. This button shows you all the phone numbers you have. Mom put them in. This button takes pictures and if you press this and then this you can take videos.”

  “Shown up by a tech-savvy child. You’re making me feel old, kid.” Clay snatched the phone back, placed it in the breast pocket of his shirt and fastened the snap.

  Clay gestured to a stack of wood. “Why don’t you start marking those cross pieces for me. I need them all five-feet long.”

  “Okay, Uncle Clay.”

  “I’ll show you how to do the first one.” Standing behind the boy, Clay hooked the end of the measuring tape to one end of the board and pulled it open. He pulled a pencil from behind his ear and made a mark. “It has to be right at sixty inches. Got it?”

  “I got it.” Tommy took the tape and placed the pencil behind his ear in imitation of Clay. The boy’s serious face made Nicki smile. It was clear he had a whopping case of hero worship going on.

  As Tommy began trying to measure off the wood Clay had indicated, Nicki studied them together. Clay was infinitely patient with the child’s fledgling efforts. With gentle suggestions, Clay offered the encouragement that Tommy needed, helping him to use the tape that seemed to have developed a mind of it’s own in the boy’s inexperienced hands. It warmed her heart to see Clay’s natural ability to connect with the boy.

  Glancing up, Clay caught her staring. “Are you gonna just stand there or you gonna give us a hand?”

  Smiling, she folded her arms. “I’m just going to stand here.”

  Tommy shook his head. “Girls don’t like tools and building stuff. They just like dolls and babies.”

  Nicki could see Clay biting his lip to keep from laughing. Finally, he managed to say, “Tommy, could you get the drill out of the bed of my truck? I’m going to start fastening down the floor planks.”

  “Sure thing.” Tommy took off like a shot.

  “You’re good with him,” Nicki said.

  “He’s an easy kid to like. Do you know his history?”

  “I know he’s been moved from one foster home to another before ending up with Maya and Greg.”

  “The love they heap on that boy should give him a sense of stability, but Tommy isn’t buying it yet. He’s learned to expect the worst.”

  “He’s certainly become attached to you.”

  Clay hammered a board into place. Looking up, he asked, “Do you know why?”

  “Because you’re a nice guy with new power tools?”

  “No. It’s because he has no expectations that I’m going to hang around. I’m safe.”

  “Are you staying?” she asked quickly then wished that she had bitten her tongue.

  He stared at her for a long moment. “I’m not sure. I don’t know what would be here for me if I did.”

  “Your family is here. Isn’t that enough?”

  Disappointment clouded his eyes. Had he been hoping for a different answer from her?

  Hammering another board into place, Clay said, “Tommy’s trying hard not to love Greg and Maya. He thinks something bad will happen to anyone he cares about.”

  His insight surprised her. “That’s very astute of you.”

  “You’re talking to a loner. I spent seven years trying not to love anyone or anything.”

  “Did it work?”

  When he looked up, a touch of humor had returned to his eyes. “Not really. I fell pretty hard for Sadie.”

  Nicki knew he was trying to make light of his own struggle. She didn’t press him. “Was that the mule with bad breath?”

  “She had other good points that made up for that deficiency.”

  Shaking her head, Nicki held up on hand. “I’m not sure I want to know what they were?”

  “She never kicked off her packs. That mule was worth her weight in gold.”

  Nicki glanced to where Tommy was shutting the truck door. “Did you notice that he called Maya ‘Mom’ when he gave you the phone?”

  “I did. She’ll like that.”

  Tommy returned and held up the cordless drill and power pack. “Can I do some drilling?”

  Clay scratched his chin as he pretended to consider the request. Finally he nodded. “I’ll let you drill some of the pilot holes.”

  “Cool.”

  Nicki smiled. “Then I shall leave you men to your work.”

  The warmth in Clay’s gaze as it settled on her chased away the chill of the late afternoon. “Stop by anytime. I can always use some company. Especially yours.”

  Feeling foolishly lighthearted, Nicki turned around and started for home. Clay, it seemed, was rebuilding more than a gazebo. He was rebuilding her faith in him one small piece at a time.

  The following afternoon, Clay
boosted the first of the gazebo’s lattice sides into place and fastened it with screws. One down, seven more to go. The design wasn’t identical to the original, but it was as close as he could make it.

  Taking a step back, he wiped the sweat from his brow and admired his handiwork. The sun shone bright and warm enough that he’d tossed aside his jacket and was working in his shirt sleeves. Today was definitely a nice change from the recent chilly, dreary weather.

  Fall was one of the things he liked about Kansas. The long autumn often provided some beautiful crisp, days. Winter didn’t usually get a good grip on the prairie until late December or January.

  He heard the sound of running footsteps and turned to see Tommy dashing across the street headed in his direction. The boy skidded to a halt at Clay’s side and dropped his backpack in the grass. “Wow, you got a lot done.”

  Clay glanced at his wristwatch. It was barely three o’clock. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

  “We got out early ’cause the teachers have some kind of meeting. Do you think you could take me fishing today? You said we’d go when the weather got nice.”

  The boy’s tone was so hopeful that Clay didn’t have the heart to say no. “I reckon I’ve done enough work on this thing this week. Catfish for supper sounds good.”

  “Yeah!” Tommy shot his fist in the air as he jumped for joy.

  Clay grinned at his enthusiasm. “Think we can rustle up some poles?”

  “Greg has all kinds of stuff at his old place. He even has a kayak. For real. Maya says that’s why Greg is building her a bigger house. So he has a place to put all his stuff.”

  “Then it sounds like he’s the man we should see.”

  A half hour later, poles in hand, Clay and Tommy walked out of the Garrison Building. Greg had been only too happy to supply them with a pair of rod and reels and a tackle box. Clay had invited his brother-in-law to play hooky from work and join them, but Greg reluctantly declined. The two men had exchanged knowing glances. Clay understood that Greg wanted to come, but he was willing to let Tommy enjoy a boy’s day out.

  Clay had had his doubts about Greg Garrison when he first learned of Maya’s hasty marriage, but Greg was proving to be a generous and caring man. Maya could have done a lot worse.

  As Clay and Tommy paused on the sidewalk, Tommy looked up eagerly. “Can we go fishing where you caught that whopper?”

  Looking toward the river, Clay decided fishing in the park seemed too tame. He had a sudden desire to see some of his old childhood haunts. One place in particular. The old bridge. “I know a great fishing spot, but it’s quite a walk.”

  “I can keep up. I’m strong.”

  Patting the boy’s head, Clay said, “I never doubted that for a minute.”

  Nearly three-quarters of a mile east of town, Clay led the way down a dirt road that skirted the edge of the river. Tommy, excited as a puppy, danced ahead of Clay, chattering away about the size and number of fish they were sure to land.

  When they came to a bend where the road veered away from the water, Tommy stopped and pointed toward the river. “Is that the place?”

  Clay shook his head. “Nope. We go cross country from here.”

  Crossing the weedy ditch to a barbed wire fence, Clay used his boot to hold down one strand. He wrapped his fingers around the middle wire and pulled up to make room for Tommy to climb through.

  “Be careful, don’t snag yourself,” he cautioned. A second later he heard the sound of ripping cloth.

  Tommy unhooked his pant leg and stood up. All the excitement leached out of his face as he fingered the tear by his knee.

  He looked up at Clay and swallowed hard. “These are my new jeans. Do you think Maya will be mad? The foster mom I had before Mrs. Otis didn’t like it when my clothes got messed up. She got real mad.”

  Pressing down both hands on the top wire, Clay swung his legs over and joined Tommy. “Did you cut yourself?”

  “No.”

  Dropping to his knees, Clay inspected the rip. “As long as you aren’t hurt, Maya won’t be mad.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Clay ruffled the boy’s hair. “I’m positive. If you got hurt she’d be madder than a wet hen—at me.”

  Tommy relaxed. “Good.”

  Chuckling, Clay picked up the poles and rose. “It’s not much farther and the big fish won’t wait forever.”

  Tommy’s smile reappeared. “Then we’d better hurry.”

  Moving ahead through the thick stand of trees that bordered the waterway, Clay said, “There’s a railroad trestle up ahead. At least, I think its still there. The rail line was abandoned years ago, but they never tore down the bridge.”

  A hundred more yards brought them out of the trees and onto the bank where the rusting iron girders of the old trestle stretched out before them. Many of the wooden ties had rotted away leaving wide gaps.

  “This is cool!” Tommy’s eyes were round as silver dollars.

  It looked even more dilapidated than Clay remembered. Only the massive concrete pillars in the water looked remotely sturdy. Sometime while he’d been away, the river had formed a sandbar island between the center ones. Saplings and shrubs had taken hold and formed a dense miniature forest among the fallen logs that piled up against the bridge footings during high water.

  “How did you ever find this place?” Tommy asked.

  “My granddad brought me and Jesse here when we were little. He liked to fish, too.”

  Happy memories enveloped Clay. He could almost smell his grandfather’s cigar and hear his big-hearted laugh. Together, they all sat on this bank listening to the drone of insects, the chatter of squirrels and the hum of mosquitoes as they watched their bobbers not really caring if they caught any fish. It was enough to be sharing the time together. He and Jesse had been kindred spirits that day.

  “I bet you came here all the time,” Tommy took a step toward the edge of the bridge, but Clay grasped the boy’s jacket.

  “Whoa, partner, don’t go out there. It’s dangerous.”

  As soon as the words left Clay’s mouth he nearly laughed aloud at the irony. The dangers presented by the old trestle had become a bone of contention between himself and Jesse. The summer of Clay’s freshman year in high school, Jesse caught him and a couple of his buddies jumping off the rickety structure into the river.

  That in itself had been bad enough. Adding in the fact that the river had been running bank full after a heavy rain had made it doubly dangerous. It was a wonder none of them had drowned, but Jesse’s tongue lashing in front of Clay’s friends had widened the gap that had always existed between the brothers.

  It wasn’t long before Clay found himself pulling other foolish stunts just to get a rise out of Jesse.

  “Where are the big fish? I wanna put my line in there.”

  “I’d say right below us where the bank is undercut. Those old catfish like deep holes.” Turning aside, he began to ready the poles.

  Tommy took a couple of steps closer to the edge of the riverbank and peered over. “Hey, why is there a car down there?”

  Clay’s glance darted to the boy. “Step back, Tommy.”

  “But I can see the top of a car. It’s blue.” Tommy leaned farther out and pointed.

  Clay pulled the boy back, then leaned over to check for himself. Looking down through the brush growing outward from the river’s edge, he could make out the deeply dented roof and trunk of a late model hatchback. It wasn’t a rusted out hulk as he had hoped. A sick feeling settled in the pit of Clay’s stomach.

  Grasping the boy’s shoulders, Clay turned him away from the water. “I want you to go over and sit on that big log.”

  “Why?”

  “Do as I say, Tommy,” Clay replied sharply.

  “Okay.” Dejected, the boy walked over to a moss-covered fallen tree that lay about twenty feet from the river.

  Using some exposed roots and flimsy sapling branches as handholds, Clay worked his way down the steep
ten-foot embankment to the water. The vehicle was wedged under a tree that had fallen out from the bank. If the foliage hadn’t been gone, Clay doubted anyone would have seen it.

  His boots slipped on the muddy bank and he dropped waist deep into the chilly river but managed to grab hold of a branch. Gritting his teeth, he reached for the bumper and wiped the mud and moss from the license plate. It was a Colorado tag. The sticker in the left-hand corner showed the current year. The tag had been renewed in May.

  His gaze was drawn to the submerged portion of the car. If anyone was still inside, they were far beyond his help. Working his way forward, he was able to see that the window on the passenger side was open, had been rolled down or broken. He could also make out what looked like the top of a child’s car seat bobbing slightly inside the back. The rest of the interior was under water.

  With a sinking feeling in his gut, he knew he might have solved the mystery of how Kasey came to High Plains. Turning away, Clay began to climb out of the water and up the bank.

  Chapter Twelve

  Nicki left her car with several others parked along the dirt road and followed the fresh tire tracks through the severed wires of a pasture fence. The sun was low in the sky, and the evening had grown chilly, but she barely noticed the cold.

  Already a small group of people from town had gathered well back from the law-enforcement activity on the river. Word of the discovery had spread quickly. Nicki had learned about it from Mrs. Baker, the mother of the twins in her class. Her sister worked in the county dispatch office.

  The muted hum of conversation stopped as Nicki approached the crowd. Standing apart from them, she saw Clay with police chief Colt Ridgeway near several police vehicles.

  Clay caught sight of her and hurried in her direction. “Nicki, you shouldn’t be here.”

  “Is it true?” she demanded. “Did you find a body in the river?”

  Grasping her elbow, he led her away from the gawkers. “I found a car.”

  “Why didn’t you call me? You know this could be Kasey’s family.”

  “I wanted to wait until we knew something for sure. Right now, all we know is that there’s an out-of-state car in the water.”