by Jodi Thomas
As always, Gabe picked a back booth and the two talked about their army days and how different life was now for them. Gabe always asked about Denver’s job, which he considered cushy: flying around the country, keeping an eye out for trouble on planes.
Denver told him about a drunk who started yelling one night on a flight out of Chicago. He wanted the stewardess to sit on him to hold him down so he wouldn’t float off the plane when they lost gravity. A steward appeared and took over the job, ignoring the drunk’s complaining.
On the way back to the farm, Gabe talked about his work, but Denver didn’t understand much. The only graphic novels Denver had read were Gabe’s work. He knew his friend was good. Money hadn’t been an issue when he’d built a house overlooking the canyon. It wasn’t big, but the views were outstanding and he and Liz lived in every room.
Denver shared Gabe’s confusion over people who built rooms in a home that they never went in. Maybe their feelings came from spending so many years in tents where they thought they had luxury if their feet didn’t hang out. Life in Harmony seemed not only a world away from what they once were, but a lifetime as well. The two soldiers who once thought only of staying alive were now talking about diapers.
But with Gabe and Liz, life was blessed and their lifestyle was reflected even in their home. Their house was open, flowing from his study into a living area and an open kitchen. Denver got the feeling they couldn’t stand to be separated by even the walls. Liz could stand in the kitchen and watch him work and he could watch over her when she slept on the couch or in the sunroom. Denver caught himself feeling a little jealous of that kind of love.
The house phone was ringing as he waved good-bye to Gabe and stepped back inside. For once he knew it wasn’t Gabe.
Pirate, the mangy dog who’d seemed to come with the house he bought, appeared from the hallway.
“You could have answered it,” Denver said as he rushed past. “Maybe taken a message.”
The dog didn’t look like he cared.
Denver grabbed the phone. “Sims here,” he said, reaching for a pen to write down the time of his next flight. He wasn’t due to work for two more days, but he usually took shifts when they came along so he could build up comp time.
There was a pause before a woman’s voice whispered, “Denver?”
He felt his heart slow. “I’m here, Claire.”
“I saw you with Gabe at the diner on my way home from taking Saralynn to school. Is everything all right with my sister? I wanted to call her, but I was afraid that if everything is fine, I’d wake her this early, and if it’s not she’d be too busy to talk.”
“Everything is fine. How about I promise to call the minute something does happen?” He figured Liz would call her sister when it happened, but she and Claire were not close. Maybe because there were too many years between them, or maybe just because they were very different people.
“I’d appreciate it,” she whispered, telling Denver she was probably calling from the Matheson Ranch. With all the women living in that place he was surprised she’d found an empty room.
“It’s Thursday,” Denver, said trying to keep her on the line. “Doesn’t Hank take Saralynn to school?” He made a point to remember every detail about Claire and her family.
“Usually, but he and Alex were called in early. There’s a dawn meeting at the courthouse about a disaster plan. This year everyone wants to be prepared if a tornado comes our way. Alex as sheriff and Hank as volunteer fire chief both had to be there.”
“So you had to get up early.” He lowered his voice.
“Yes,” she said, without emotion.
“Can you meet me?” He slammed his fist against the door frame, wishing he didn’t sound so needy. Keep it light, he reminded himself. Keep it casual.
“I . . .”
“Where?” he said, without giving her time to say no.
“It’s dangerous here at home. Someone could see us. Everyone knows us.”
Denver wanted to yell that he didn’t care if the world saw them. “How about the Buffalo Bar and Grill? We could just happen to bump into one another there.”
“No. I don’t ever go there.”
He couldn’t really see her going into the bar either, but it was the first place he thought of. It was a popular hangout, but not for an ice princess like Claire. “The roadside lookout?”
“It’s too cold.”
He knew she probably wouldn’t come to his place, even though she’d said she’d think about it.
“I have to fly out of Dallas Monday; any chance I could see you before then?” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his tone. They were both single. Why did they have to both leave Harmony to connect?
“Liz and Gabe are coming to Sunday dinner. Why don’t you come along? I could see you then.”
“All right. Sunday dinner.” He got the picture. Sunday dinner with the two great-aunts sitting between them. With Claire rarely even looking his way. With her daughter, Saralynn, asking questions in rapid fire.
If she didn’t want to see him, then she should just tell him. Sometimes he had the feeling Claire was torturing him like a cat playing with a mouse before she had him for dinner.
“Good-bye, Denver,” she whispered.
“Promise me something before you hang up.”
“All right,” she said.
“Promise there will be a place and time for me to hold you.”
“I will try,” she said, and the phone went dead.
He was beginning to hate those three words as well as himself for accepting them from her.
Chapter 19
FRIDAY
FEBRUARY 26
MEMPHIS
THE THREE DAYS IN THE MEMPHIS HOSPITAL FOR NOAH McAllen turned into six. Reagan stayed by his side while the doctors looked for the cause of the constant pain in his back.
Finally, on Friday, they told him to go home. Maybe the pain would pass when the other parts of his body healed.
While Reagan packed his few things, Noah called his parents.
“Hi, Mom,” he said, forcing himself to sound better than he looked. “How are things? I thought I might come home for a few weeks.”
He listened, ignoring the nurse who came in to run a final check.
“That sounds great, Mom. No, don’t even think about canceling the trip. I’ll just make a few more stops and be home in March. Then you’ll have pictures of your trip to show me. Have a great time.”
He paused to listen, then added, “Tell Dad I’m doing fine. My card’s filling up. Yeah, I miss you guys too. Good-bye.”
When he clicked his phone closed, he looked at Reagan. “They’re taking a month-long vacation. Plan to see California and then fly to Hawaii for ten days. This time of year is pretty much the slow time for Dad’s trucking company.”
“Why didn’t you tell them?”
“Because I know them. They’d miss probably the best vacation they’ve ever planned. I’ll go home and stay alone. I’ll do fine.”
“Nonsense,” Reagan said. “You’ll come home with me. In fact, my uncle told me the night you called to bring you back with me. He said our house is starting to look more and more like a hospital every day. You might as well be there recovering too.”
Noah’s grin was there for a moment, reminding her of the boy who’d bugged her when she moved to Harmony.
“You inviting me to move in, Rea?”
“Yes. I’ll call and have Foster order another hospital bed. We can have the dining room table removed and you can sleep there.”
“I was hoping we’d moved to being friends with benefits.”
“We have,” she laughed. “I’ll see you recover and hide your truck keys so you can’t get back on the road too soon. I’ve got Foster Garrison and his wife living with me. He’ll help you do your therapy and Cindy will fatten you up on ginger-apple pancakes and buttermilk pie. If you like, you can share the parlor with Uncle Jeremiah, but you’re not sharing my room.”
>
“You’ve grown from a mean spitfire of a girl to a cruel woman, Reagan Truman. The only time I can get you to cuddle up close to me is when I’m hurt.”
“I’m sure on the road you’ve had far prettier girls than me.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Definitely nicer and more willing, but better, I don’t know. Maybe one of these days you’ll let your guard down and we could give it a try, just for comparison’s sake.”
She laughed. “That’s about the worst line I’ve ever heard. To think I was worried about you sleeping with a different girl every night. With that kind of logic, I shouldn’t have worried. I’ll bet you were living a monk’s life.”
Handing him his jeans, she turned around as he tried to slide them on with one hand. When he hit her with his hospital gown, she grabbed his shirt and faced him. Noah’s chest and shoulders were more scarred than she remembered, and far more hairy. He was so thin she could see his ribs, along with deep bruises that hadn’t completely healed from other rides.
With his arm in a cast, she had to help him with his shirt. When his face was close to hers, he whispered, “Thanks for the offer, Rea. Even without benefits, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
She wanted to cry. When she’d come to Harmony at sixteen she had no friends and didn’t plan to make any. Noah “Preacher” McAllen called everyone in town his friend. Everyone loved the wild, happy-go-lucky kid—everyone still did, but he no longer saw it. Noah had left Harmony, but the people still talked about him, asked if she’d heard from him. Men young and old dreamed of doing what Noah was doing. They’d be surprised to see him now. Even now, after seeing him like this for almost a week, Reagan was still having trouble blending the boy who left with the man coming home.
“I booked the late flight home tonight. We’ll be landing after ten and it’ll be after midnight before we get home. If you like, no one has to know you’re even in Harmony. That way you can rest.”
He smiled. “Protecting your reputation. Don’t want folks to know you got a cowboy’s boots under your bed.”
She smiled. “Don’t want to see girls from seventeen to thirty lined up outside my door to take your temperature.”
He shook his head. “I doubt anyone will remember what I look like. The two days I was home for Christmas I had to show my ID to buy a drink at Buffalo’s one night.”
With the nurse’s help, Noah forced himself to move from the bed to the chair. By the time they got to the airport, he looked exhausted. He barely noticed the nurse who helped him move onto the plane. Reagan had hired her to fly with them to Dallas and make sure Noah got on the plane to Amarillo. After that, Reagan figured she could handle the fifty-minute flight. Foster would be waiting in Amarillo.
Noah stretched out in his first-class seat beside her and reached for her hand as the plane taxied out. Before they were in the air, Noah was asleep, but he never turned loose of her hand.
He woke up in Dallas complaining of pain, took two pills, and went back to sleep. He seemed drugged when Foster made him comfortable in the back of a Suburban he’d rented. Reagan made the last leg of the trip home listening to Noah’s snoring as Foster drove through the night.
When they arrived home, the dining room had been cleaned and removed of all the clutter. The space looked more like a hospital room now with all kinds of supplies and equipment neatly stacked.
While Foster got Noah settled in and comfortable for the night, Reagan checked on her uncle, took a shower, climbed into her thickest PJs, and curled up in her favorite chair beside his bed.
“He’ll sleep through the night,” Foster said as he pulled up the railing on either side of the bed.
“I know. I just wanted to sit with him for a while.”
Foster nodded, but she had no idea if he understood. “Call me if you need anything else.”
Reagan pulled the blanket over herself, realizing how exhausted she was. Within a few minutes the house grew silent, but sleep couldn’t find her. She wiggled, first thinking it was too cold in the room, then deciding it was too hot. She got up twice to make sure the drapes were tightly closed. She went to the kitchen for milk and then for a sandwich that she took only two bites of.
Finally, Reagan lowered the railing on one side of Noah’s bed and crawled in beside him as she had once in the hospital when he’d been hurt. Barely touching him, she placed her hand on his heart and felt the beating. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to match the beat of her heart to his.
Within minutes she was sound asleep.
Chapter 20
POST OFFICE
RONELLE WAITED UNTIL ALMOST ONE TO PUT ON HER COAT to make her delivery. She’d hoped the weather would warm some, but the day had stayed cloudy, holding the frozen earth captive.
As she walked toward the duplex just off Main, she saw no one out. Today seemed a good day to huddle in. Not even the wind blew by. Moisture hung in the air, not rain or snow, but damp, depressing, like an icy compress on her face and head.
When she knocked on Winslow’s door, no one answered.
She knocked again.
To her surprise, the door swung open.
Marty rolled back a few feet and snapped, “Come in. It’s about time I got some mail.”
She stepped inside and pulled his letters from where she’d stuffed them inside her coat so they wouldn’t get wet. One looked like it might be something important. The other was only an ad addressed to Occupant.
“You look half frozen,” he said, still none too friendly. “Where’s that dumb hat you usually wear?”
She didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure if he was worried about her or just insulting her again.
“Go over by the fireplace. I’ll get you a coffee.”
She stood watching him roll away, not sure what to do. Did mailmen accept coffee? She had a feeling that if anyone in town offered Jerry something to drink, like a stray dog, he’d stay the winter.
More from fear of what he’d say if he came back to find her still standing at the door than from any real need to get warm, Ronelle walked into his front room. A fire was going in an old Rookwood fireplace, and it made the room not seem so drab with light dancing over the red of the brick.
“Take off your coat and hang it over the back of one of the chairs.” His voice came from a room away.
She looked toward the windows and saw the table and chairs the thug had delivered a few days ago. They were thin wood, the kind that she’d seen for sale at thrift stores. She pulled one chair closer to the fire and removed her wool coat, surprised at how wet it was. Another few minutes outside and the dampness would have reached her shoulders.
She’d just pulled the other chair close to the fire and sat down when he entered. He rolled toward her, two cups of coffee on a tray across his legs.
He frowned and offered her one cup. For a few minutes, they both watched the fire and drank their coffee.
Finally, he said, “You didn’t have to come. My mail would have waited.”
“It’s my job.”
Silence lingered between them.
“You heading to the diner to eat?”
She shrugged.
He took a drink. “I’ve seen you walk that way. Border says you always eat alone at the diner. You take the worst table, by the door, and you turn your back to everyone.”
Ronelle looked up, not sure she liked anyone watching her.
His dark eyes studied her as if he were trying to figure her out without asking questions. The only sounds came from the crackling of the fire and the tapping against the windows as watery snow turned to ice.
He took a deep breath and said, “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but if you want to eat here, I’ve got plenty. It’ll save you marching to the diner and back and by the time you eat, your coat should be dry enough for you to make it to the post office before you turn into a snowman.”
“Snow woman,” she corrected, and was surprised when he smiled.
“Snow woman,”
he said. “How does chili sound?”
“Great.”
“I’ll check the corn bread if you’ll pull the table over here by the fire.”
She watched him disappear before she moved the table. She’d pulled two chairs up before she realized they’d only need one.
When she stood at the kitchen door, she was surprised at the room before her. Everything, from cabinets to a sink, had been built to accommodate a wheelchair. “This is nice.”
He looked up, then handed her a plate with a bowl and spoon atop. “Yeah, it’s why I rented the place. Only one I could find in this entire town made to fit me that wasn’t in a retirement home.”
“Why here? Why Harmony?” she asked as she held her plate out for a ladle of chili. “Folks say you’re not from around here.”
“Why not? I liked the name,” he answered, then added in a lower tone, “This town was as good a place as any to come to die.”
“You’re dying?”
He looked up at her. “Lady, I’m half dead already.” He must have caught the sorrow in her eyes, because he added, “But looking at you without that bulky coat on reminds me I’m also half alive.”
She lowered her eyes as his gaze moved down her body.
“Stand up straight, would you?” he requested more than ordered.
Without looking at him, she straightened, knowing she’d just added a few inches to her already too-tall frame.
“Much better,” he said, and filled the other bowl before handing it to her.
She took both plates while he balanced the corn bread basket on his legs. They made their way to the table by the fire. Neither said anything for a few minutes, and then she whispered, “This is good. Really good.”
“I can cook,” he said without bragging. “When I lived in Dallas, I got so tired of eating out that I watched the food channels until I could pretty much cook anything I wanted. What’s your favorite food?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I like the meat loaf at the diner.” She could think of nothing she liked that her mother fixed. It all tasted about the same.
