Cowgirl Coed (Redneck Debutante Series Book 4)

by Jenny Hammerle

  “Travis, what is it?”

  “I don’t know how to say this. Your mother,” Travis grabbed Rachael by the shoulders. “She was driving home from the resort where she and Aunt Margaret work. Aunt Margaret was with her. They swerved. The sheriff’s department believed it was to miss hitting a deer or possibly some animal in the road.”

  Rachael felt chills and goosebumps climbing up her spine and down her arms. She shivered. She knew what Travis was about to say before he even continued further.

  “Aunt Margaret was driving. Your mother was in the passenger seat. The car rolled, and your mother was killed.” Travis pulled her firmly against the length of his body. “Rach, I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

  Rachael stood, shaking in the quiet of the bathroom, a cold, stunned silence filled her to her core. Her heart hurt and she found it difficult to breath. Difficult to stand. Travis, sensing her weakening frame, carried her over to sit on his lap on the bed.

  “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” Travis muttered.

  Rachael sobbed. She hadn’t even realized the tears had begun, but they were a torrent of emotion and shock. “Aunt Margaret?”

  “She’s in a coma. She hasn’t woken up yet. The first responders were able to resuscitate her, but she’s lost a significant amount of blood and they’re not sure.”

  “We have to go.”

  “I told my mother I would drive you home immediately.”

  Rachael heard herself mumbling an okay, and a few other inarticulate responses. Time seemed to slow to a crawl and everything around her ceased to exist. A numbness crept in and she wondered if she were dreaming. Travis gathered her purse, shoes, and cell phone. He slipped on a pair of jeans, boots, his belt, and a nice shirt. He tugged her along behind him and out the door.

  The journey home passed in a dream-like trance. Lights along the interstate and semis rushed past them, a blur in the night air. A heavy fog covered the highway, giving everything a creepy glow and obscuring houses, barns, and trees from view. The interstate was a lonely place around four a.m. Rachael leaned against Travis’s side, resting her head, but not sleeping. He didn’t ask her if she was okay, because deep-down he knew she wasn’t okay. Even Rachael knew she wasn’t okay and wouldn’t be for a very long time. The sound of the large tires on the asphalt was their only companion. Travis drove in calm quiet, a man focused on nothing other than the road in front of him. If he was sad, he didn’t let it show. He was her rock. Rachael wrapped her arms tightly around him. He held her and merely was there.

  Sobs had given way to soft, noiseless tears. They continued to flow. Streaming down Rachael’s face, soaking her t-shirt. Rachael stared out at the interstate and the thick soup-like consistency of the fog. She shuddered. Travis stroked her hair. He didn’t bother to tell her it’d be okay again, because Rachael realized that even he knew that was now a lie. It would never be the same again and it wouldn’t be okay for a very long time.

  Rachael’s thoughts drifted to Michael. What he must be experiencing in this moment must be devastating. Absolutely life altering. It was his sophomore year of high school- and his mother was dead. What would life be like for him? Without the constant mothering and love of a mother? Rachael shook her head. She’d miss her mother terribly, but Michael would miss so much more. Things like their mother tucking them in at night. Their mother giving them advice on life and keeping them both on the straight and narrow path. Rachael had needed every ounce of mothering her mother had offered- and then some. It had taken tough love from Mr. Baxter, sweet kindness from Mrs. Baxter, gentle guidance from Aunt Margaret, and parenting from a distance from her father. Then, there’d been the patience and kindness shown to her by Travis. He’d never faltered or failed her during her father’s absence or when her mother and Aunt Margaret were gone working nights. He’d made room for her in his life and in his family. Rachael hated the idea that she’d have to lean on him for more of the same- and this time the road could be strewn with even more obstacles and debris.

  A light rain began hitting the windshield. Travis turned the windshield wipers on low. What had started as a near mist, indistinguishable from the fog, grew in strength and began to pelt the truck. A loud thunderous downpour came down in sheets and blew sideways against the windows and roof. Rachael had no idea where they were and how far they still needed to travel.

  “Michael?” She asked in a near whisper.

  “He was asleep still. My mom is sitting there, waiting for another update from your father. He thought it was best to let him sleep.”

  “He doesn’t know?”

  “Not yet,” Travis rubbed her leg softly. “Would you like to go home or to the hospital?”

  Rachael considered his question. Her mother was gone. There was no helping her now. Everything was being done, she was sure of it, that could be done to stabilize Aunt Margaret and get her through this. Her brother was home. Someone needed to wake him and give him the news. Someone needed to be there with him. “Take me home, Travis.”

  They slowly exited the interstate, as the worst of the nighttime storm lifted. Misty fog still covered the roadway and the sun rising in the east cast an orangish-red glow on the sky. Rachael had always found this time of day to be the most beautiful. The tranquility and peace of it all in no way matched the torment she felt. Cranes flew across a large pasture to their right and off into the distance, whooping as they went. Rachael put her window down, letting the morning air hit her in the face, pushing any traces of sadness to the back of her mind. Her brother must become her focus, just as he had long ago. She would be his mom now.

  He’d been even younger when she had to sit with him, facing the news that their father had been involved with something that at the time appeared to be innocent. Then, as time would reveal, their very own father’s involvement would prove to be much more intricate than they’d initially been led to believe. Finally, their father would go to prison. Rachael remembered how hard it had been on Michael. How he’d become withdrawn and avoided even her. Things in life had become difficult, even tiresome. Everyone around their house had worked. Her at home, becoming his surrogate mother. Her mother and Aunt Margaret constantly struggling to make ends meet. Rachael going a little wild and getting herself into difficult situations. Rachael hated the thought of Michael going back there. Back to that dark place. Back to that time where he trusted no one, confided in no one, and shut even her out.

  They pulled into the driveway of the house that at the end of Rachael’s senior year of high school, and the sudden arrival of her father back home, became their new house. The gate was closed and Travis jumped out to open it. He pulled his large truck through and closed the gate behind them. He didn’t want Grace getting out. Rachael’s buckskin mare should be in the paddock behind the barn, but since he couldn’t be sure Travis couldn’t risk leaving the gate open. They bumped along the oak tree lined drive, bending this way and that. The small clapboard house, its small front porch, black shutters, and red door came clearly into view. Rachael saw that the downstairs kitchen light was on and the window was open. Mrs. Baxter sat at the table alone, sipping a cup of coffee. Rachael immediately thought she looked tired.

  Travis climbed out, lifting Rachael down to stand beside him. He seized her shoulders and squeezed them tightly. “I’m here with you. You’re not alone. And I’m not going anywhere, Rachael.”

  Rachael stood staring at the house in disbelief. She’d only spent the end of a school year and one summer in this house. When they’d leased it from JJ, it held so much promise for her family. A new beginning- together. Her father had been excited to have the lease-purchase option he’d negotiated with JJ. Now, Rachael wondered what the future would bring.

  “We have to go in there. Michael needs us.”

  Rachael knew Travis was right, but right now all she wanted to do was run out back to the small three-sided lean-to Travis had erected with her father for Grace and hide. Hide herself away for days, weeks, months. Hide until the hurt
creeping into her soul disappeared.

  Rachael squared her shoulders and started walking inside. One foot in front of the other, up the front porch steps, through the front door, and up the staircase to her brother’s bedroom door. Travis hadn’t followed her up the stairs. He’d stayed in the kitchen with his mother, taking a seat across from her at the small kitchenette.

  Rachael stood at the door, not sure whether to knock or merely open it. She decided on the latter of the two options and peered inside. Michael slept soundly. Rachael watched him for a few minutes, not wanting to break what appeared like pure tranquility. She tiptoed across his room and perched on the edge of his bed. He’d grown longer and leaner since she’d left to return to school at the end of Spring Break. His legs and arms were nicely tanned and more muscular. At sixteen he was really beginning to look more like a man than a teenaged boy. His hair was long, and swept to one side. It was still dark brown at the roots, but the tips were a sun-bleached golden red. Rachael reached out and touched his toe, “Michael, it’s me, Rach.”

  He moved a bit and opened his eyes, squinting up at her in the bright sunlight creeping in through his bedroom window. “What time is it?”

  “Seven-thirty, or something like that.”

  “Is it Saturday?” He glanced over at his alarm clock on the bedside table.

  “It is.” She smiled, trying not to tear up.

  “Why are you home? What’s going on?” Michael abruptly sat up in bed.

  “I have some,” Rachael searched for the words. “I have some sad news about Mom. She and Aunt Margaret had an accident on the way home from work.”

  “Where are they?”

  Tears slipped freely down Rachael’s cheeks. “Aunt Margaret’s in the hospital. Mom is,” Rachael couldn’t speak the words. They stuck in her throat. Her esophagus tightened around them, choking the air from her. “Mom is, gone.” Her own words trailed off and were barely audible.

  Michael sat in silence, unable to move or speak. His eyes went blank. The sparkle that was usually there, accompanied by a hue of mischief, vanished. No tears, no yelling, no screaming. Michael merely sat there.

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. I know very little. Mrs. Baxter called. I got on the road with Travis. Here I am. Something about a deer or an animal crossing the highway. Their car rolled. Mom,” Rachael sobbed for both of them. “She’s gone, Michael. She’s really and truly gone.”

  “I don’t believe it. I need to see for myself.” Michael jumped from the bed. “Where exactly did it happen? I want to go there.”

  Rachael had been prepared for sadness and tears, but the anger coming from Michael caught her completely by surprise. Michael was out of bed, grabbing a pair of sneakers, and running down the stairs. Rachael sprinted to follow him. In the kitchen, she could hear Mrs. Baxter trying to reason with him, but he was sixteen and there was no stopping him. He had a small compact truck and he grabbed his keys. Travis immediately jumped into the chaotic situation unfolding around them.

  “I’ll drive. Let me, man.” He opened the door and led the way to his own Dodge. Rachael knew that this was a horrible idea all the way around. But allowing Michael to drive anywhere was the first of the bad ideas and thank goodness Travis had an idea that nipped that. He climbed in, followed by Mrs. Baxter, Rachael, and Michael. “Where to?” Travis backed out of the small shell driveway and turned around beginning his trip up the road towards the gate.

  Michael leaped out to open the gate and Rachael was relieved at the opportunity to ask a few questions.

  “We can’t take him to the scene of the accident.” Rachael spat.

  “I’m calling JJ right now to ask if it has been cleared.” Mrs. Baxter dialed JJ and when he answered she started asking questions and explaining the situation straight away.

  Travis idled through the gate, giving them a few extra seconds to get some answers before Michael closed the gate and climbed back inside the cab.

  “Okay,” Mrs. Baxter ended the call.

  Michael opened the door, pulling himself up inside. “Let’s go,” he clipped.

  “It seems the accident happened over on Verna Road. JJ said it has been cleared, but he’s still there finishing up. The deputies are taking pictures and filing the report. There’s not much to see, Michael. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go to the hospital?” Mrs. Baxter explained.

  “Nope, I want to go to the scene.” Michael did his best to keep it together. His upper lip trembled and he began to cry. “My mom’s not dead. I know she’s not dead.”

  Rachael covered her eyes and cried as well. She reached forwards and put her arms around Michael’s shoulders from the backseat. He trembled and she knew anger had just given way to realization. Travis put the truck in drive and headed on down the road. Rachael had no idea where he was driving, but she didn’t ask either. She didn’t even know where the accident had happened herself. Somewhere on Verna Road, a road they called the T. That could be anywhere on a three-mile stretch of blacktop.

  Rachael looked out the window and saw that was exactly where they were headed. Turn by turn, they made their way closer to the accident site. Rachael didn’t know what she expected to see or what Michael hoped to find out. Yet, she knew that he wanted to go there- and if her mother had already been taken away, then there couldn’t be any harm in going there themselves. Travis neared a sheriff’s cruiser and JJ’s Honcho, both parked on the side of the road with their lights flashing. He pulled off behind them. On the asphalt dark tire marks were clearly visible, where the vehicle had braked hard and then, careened left, crossing the other lane, and rolling. The barbed wire fence was taken out for over twenty yards, its posts broken off at ground level and the grass dug out in a wide-sweeping area. An area on the blacktop was cordoned off with yellow tape.

  Instantly, Rachael knew it had been a mistake to drive over here. There wasn’t any blood or other markings, but she knew that was where her mother’s body had been found. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood up and she shivered. Cold swept over her.

  “Can we leave now, Michael?”

  “Yes.” He uttered.

  Travis pulled away and headed back towards their house. Rachael’s heart hurt so deeply and she immediately wished she could unsee what she’d just seen. She understood Michael’s need to see the accident scene, but she also understood her own need not to see. Maybe Travis should’ve stopped him. Maybe she should’ve stopped him herself, but she knew that any attempt at stopping Michael would’ve been foolish. He’d needed to go there. He’d have driven himself. He’d have maybe gotten himself into an accident.

  Her father knew him well- perhaps, better than Rachael knew him. Her father had chosen to leave him asleep giving the accident a chance to be cleared away. Maybe he knew that Michael would insist on going there, to see it for himself.

  Back at the house, the waiting would begin.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Days later, Rachael’s phone buzzed in her purse, but her focus remained on Aunt Margaret. Aunt Margaret lay peacefully asleep in the hospital bed. Listening, like she always did. Rachael spoke to her about everything. She shared with her the secret she’d been keeping for Maysie- and her own secret. About how she wished now she’d talked to her mother about staying over at Travis’s place and wanting to take their relationship to the next level. Her mother would’ve understood. She may not have agreed with her or may have even disapproved of her decision, but she would’ve allowed Rachael to make her own choices in the end. Now, Rachael would never have the chance to have that conversation. They’d eloped and taken things into their own hands. Rachael didn’t regret what she had done- only what she hadn’t. If she could go back and be more open with her mother. Share more with her. Sit and visit over a cup of tea like they used to do- Rachael would.

  The doctors made their rounds and four days passed with zero change or improvement. Aunt Margaret had suffered a serious brain injury and her scans showed little promise of recovery. Still
Rachael clung to life. She clung to the impossible.

  Aunt Margaret will get better. She will.

  Rachael knew that she should be focusing on Michael. On her mother’s funeral. On her father. But right now, she couldn’t. She’d driven up to the hospital last Tuesday evening and still, three days later, she sat. She awaited a miracle. Something that would make her aunt wake from this sleep. Maysie and Shannah had been by to see her. They were helping Mrs. Baxter plan her mother’s funeral and celebration of life. Rachael had selected the more traditional readings, the twenty-third Psalm being among them. Her mother had always kept it highlighted in her Bible, reciting it from memory over the years. And while Rachael couldn’t describe her mother as religious, she was truly spiritual. She believed in God, she believed in Jesus, and she believed in Heaven. Rachael knew these things for certain.

  And now, in some small way, Rachael needed to help her mother’s only living sister. If she could keep her alive, she’d in some insignificant way have helped her own mother. It was difficult to explain, but she was sure of it.

  “Are you going to come home?” Mr. Harte’s voice sounded from the doorway behind her.

  Rachael had drifted off the sleep, leaning forward on the edge of Aunt Margaret’s hospital bed.

  “What time is it?”

  “A little after ten o’clock.” Her father pulled a chair up beside her and sat down. “Your mother’s service is tomorrow. And I need you, your brother needs you.” He touched her forearm. “Aunt Margaret would want you to go home, just for now.”

  “I just keep thinking,” Rachael paused taking a deep breath, “if I’m here she’ll wake up.”

  “We all hope she’ll wake up. We all keep hoping for a miracle, but that doesn’t change the fact that we have other things to take care of too. Sitting here, hiding here at the hospital, won’t bring your mom back.” Rachael heard her father crying. And he was right.

  She’d come up to the hospital and just hid out here, avoiding everything else, for days. She was hiding from the reality that her own mom was gone. But, how could she face that when her aunt still lay here alive? Rachael stood and slid her chair back into the corner of the room. She went to kiss Aunt Margaret’s cheek and walked out into the corridor. Her father slowly came to join her. Rachael threw her arms around her dad.