“That word’s out already?”
“It’s a small town, remember?”
“That’s fine, I guess, but I’m not here so much for football as I am...” He let his sentence trail off, knowing she would finish it.
She glanced into the main dining room. “For guard duty?”
He shrugged.
“You want a beer?” She looked back at the bartender. “This is Lou Sanderson. He owns this place.”
Mike shook his hand and placed his order.
“I hear you’re going to be helping Bobby out with the defense,” Lou said as he set down a frothy cold bottle.
“I’ll be on the field for practice tomorrow. We’ll see how it goes.” He started to take his wallet from his back pocket.
“No tab today,” Lou said. “On the house along with all the ribs, wings and beans you can eat.”
“I appreciate that.” Mike took a pull on the bottle and spoke to Brenna. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I was wondering if we could go find a table somewhere and have a talk about...”
He never finished. A tall man came out of the hallway to the restrooms and strode over to them. He immediately looped one arm around Brenna’s shoulders, pushed a perfectly cowboy-curled banded straw hat back from his forehead and said, “All taken care of, missy. I’m ready for a return to the dance floor.”
Mike disliked the guy instantly, although it wasn’t his general nature to form such quick opinions. But this urban cowboy was too much in his designer Western shirt with the shiny buttons and embroidered cacti. If his jeans had been any tighter, he’d have had to lie down to breathe. And his boots. Snakeskin with a point sharp enough to kill an ant in the corner.
Brenna patted the hand that dangled next to her throat as if the guy were a child and said, “Mike, this is Alex Cameron. Alex, Mike Langston.”
“Howdy,” Alex said in a refined voice that was much more Southern drawl than Texas twang. His grin, however, was Texas-sized and about as phony as the rest of him. “You know my little cactus flower, Brenna?”
“I do,” Mike said. “We’re...ah, acquaintances.”
Right. She was an acquaintance he just happened to enjoy kissing.
“You never know what to expect when Bren’s around,” Alex said. His words were slurred.
Mike suffered through a brief replay of Friday night’s kisses and couldn’t argue.
Brenna scooted out of Alex’s hold, turned him around and nudged him toward the dining room. “Okay, Tex, let’s swing to a couple of songs, and then maybe you and I should get some food.”
Alex held his hand out to the bar. “One more, Lou, if you don’t mind.”
Brenna shook her head at Lou before concentrating on Alex again. “It’s only two o’clock, Alex. You’ll never make it to the buffet table at this rate.”
“Aw, honey...”
Mike headed toward the exit as Brenna and Alex went into the dining room and the dance floor. Taking a seat outside and nursing his beer, he couldn’t help wondering what Brenna saw in that jerk.
* * *
THE TEXAS TWO-STEP was suddenly the Texas barely-managed-one-step. Tired of leading, Brenna grabbed hold of Alex’s arm and tried to get him to a table where they could sit down.
“Hey, the song’s not over,” he said, trying to keep time with the music. “And anyway, I’ll bet Lou’s got my beer ready.”
She leaned against him to help him stand without swaying. “Alex, don’t you think you ought to give it a rest?”
“Hey, I had a big breakfast. All those eggs and sausages are soaking up my brews.”
“Yeah, right. Still, let’s avoid the bar for a while.”
He gave her a sorrowful look and drawled, “You’re a bossy gal for sure. But I want to finish this song.”
“All right, although this is the last one. We need to eat.”
Fortunately Brenna wasn’t able to complete the dance. Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and recognized her mother’s number. “I’ve got to get this,” she said to Alex. “Go sit down and wait for me.”
“Don’t go, Bren,” he said. “Dance to the end.”
“I can’t.” She looked around the room, spotted one of the single moms who had a son on the football team and waved her over. “Hey, Elaine, can you finish this one out with Alex?”
The woman was only too happy to oblige. After all, Brenna was partnering her with a coveted date—Alex Cameron, rising young Augusta financier, who was incredibly good-looking and had inherited money to spend.
Relieved to be free of her burden, Brenna watched them twirl and stumble across the dance floor as she headed toward the back door of the restaurant and the quiet of the creek-front deck.
She connected right away. “Hi, Mom.”
“Ohh...Brenna baby...”
Her mother’s voice hitched, and Brenna prepared herself for bad news. “What’s wrong, Ma?”
“It’s Carl.”
“Daddy? What’s happened to Daddy?”
“We’re at Mercy Hospital.”
Brenna pressed her hand over her heart. “What? Why?”
“He got a temp job cleaning out the gutters at the office of the trailer park. He was so happy to get it, as you can imagine.” Alma paused and took an audible long breath. “He’d just gone over there about an hour before...”
Brenna’s patience began to fray. “Mom, just tell me what happened!”
“It’s a two-story building, and your dad was up on the ladder. Part of the gutter gave way, and the ladder slipped.”
“Oh, no. Mom, is he okay?”
“When he fell, Brenna, he twisted his leg pretty bad. I called an ambulance. I had the good sense to tell the paramedics to take him to County, but they didn’t. They took him to Mercy because it’s closer.”
“That’s normal, Mom. It’s what they’re supposed to do.”
“They say Carl’s leg is broken. It’s what they call a compound fracture.”
Knowing the diagnosis was serious, Brenna tried to keep her voice steady. “I understand. What are they going to do?”
“They have to operate, Brenna. Put in pins. But they won’t do it here at Mercy because we don’t have insurance.” Alma started to cry.
Brenna closed her eyes, leaned against the railing on the deck and drew in a deep breath. “They can’t just refuse to treat him, Mom. They have to do something.”
“Oh, they did,” Alma said. “They put this partial cast on him and told me to take him to County for the surgery. They’ll do it for free over there.”
Brenna recalled the conversation she’d had with her mother a few months ago. Alma told her they’d stopped paying their health insurance because her dad was approaching the age of sixty-five, and he would soon be covered by Medicare. Soon but not yet. Brenna had argued with her, but Alma had been adamant that the minimal risk was worth saving the money.
Getting angry wouldn’t help anything now, so Brenna said, “Okay. Are you able to get him over to County?”
“No. They said he’d have to be transported in a private ambulance. I called a company and they are sending one over to take him. But the thing is...”
Brenna knew where this was going. The thing is, the Sullivans didn’t have the money to pay for the transport.
“They won’t take him unless I pay. It’s two hundred and twenty-five dollars, Brenna. I have to pay them up front. And Mercy asked me what I could pay here for what they did.”
“What did you tell them?” Brenna held her breath.
“They asked if I could pay at least 10 percent. I said I could. I thought it would be okay. We have a little in our checking account.”
“How much, Mom?”
<
br /> “I owe two thousand here, honey. I told them I’d pay 10 percent of it. They’ll bill me the rest.”
“Do you have that much, plus the money for the transport?”
Her mother’s sobs tore at Brenna’s heart. “I only have fifty dollars. Carl’s Social Security check comes in a few days...”
“It’s all right, Mom. Don’t cry. I can help out. I need to transfer some money from my savings account to your checking account. It will take an hour or so. This is Sunday...”
“Oh, Brenna, I’m so sorry. I just didn’t know what to do. I guess I could have driven your father to County myself, but the doctors...”
“No, Mom. You did the right thing.” Brenna knew her mother was too stressed out to transport her injured husband across the county. “For now, Mom, just tell them at Mercy and the ambulance company that the money is coming. You can go ahead and write them both a check.”
Alma sniffed loudly. “Brenna, you are such a good girl. The Lord blessed us when He gave you to Carl and me.”
As usual, her mother’s obsequious gratitude only made matters worse. At the heart of it was Brenna’s belief that her obligations to her parents would never be over. She sighed. “Mom, I’ve got to go and get this straightened out. It’ll be okay.”
She disconnected and allowed herself a few seconds to calm down before going back inside. She realized her hands were shaking. Staring over the water, she drew in several gulps of air. She had to get to her computer at home, where she’d stored her bank account numbers. She’d left her car at Alex’s cabin this morning, and he was certainly in no shape to drive her to get it. And anyway, Alex’s cabin was at least a thirty-minute drive away. Brenna didn’t have that much time.
She could ask Diana to drive her home. She knew at least a dozen other people who would agree to help, as well. She entered the restaurant again, walked through the public rooms to the door leading to the front porch, where she’d watched one of her friends go a few minutes earlier.
It seemed as if her footsteps guided her, not her conscious thought, because when she stepped out onto the porch, she saw the steadiest, most dependable person she knew in Mount Union. Again without thinking, she walked up to Mike Langston.
CHAPTER NINE
MIKE NURSED HIS beer alongside two other Mount Union citizens who appeared to belong to this party about as much as he did. After watching Brenna waltz off with her date, he’d been relieved to join the pair of anti-cowboys at an outside picnic table. The three were involved in a lively conversation about motors and horsepower, and Mike had found his comfort zone.
One of the men stared across the deck and lifted his bottle in a greeting. “Look who it is—my favorite teacher. Howdy, Brenna. You are lookin’ fine today, girl.”
Mike twisted around to see Brenna urgently clipping across the wooden floor in her fancy boots.
She stopped at Mike’s shoulder. “Hi, Duane, Stuart. Do you guys mind if I borrow your buddy here?”
Both men gave Mike a suggestive grin. “Just bring him back the way you found him, Bren,” Duane said. “We were just getting to know this guy.”
“I promise.” She looked down at Mike. “I need a favor.”
He stood. “Okay. What do you want me to do?” Secretly he was kind of hoping she wanted him to deck the boyfriend.
“Can you run me back to Mount Union? I don’t have my car, and I need to get to my house right away.”
“What about Roy Rogers? Can’t he take you?” Mike regretted the flippant question the moment he asked it. Truthfully, he wouldn’t want Brenna riding anywhere with the blurry-eyed Alex.
As if reading his mind she said, “You saw him. I don’t want to get in a car with Alex.”
Mike enjoyed playing hero, and he got an extra kick out of one-upping Alex. “I’ll take you,” he said. “Just let me tell Carrie.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” She took his hand and led him to the dance floor. “You find Carrie, and I’ll tell Alex I’ll be back in a while.”
Alex, struggling to keep time to a slow country song, was snake-wrapped around a tall, lanky blonde. Brenna frowned. “On second thought, just tell Carrie. We’ll be back before Alex even knows I’m gone.”
Mike explained the situation to his daughter, who reacted about as he’d expected. “Sure, Dad, see you later.” She didn’t even look at him. Mike pointed a warning finger at Charlie, who had his arm around Carrie’s waist. Brenna tugged him toward the door.
They got in Mike’s truck, and he backed out of the parking lot. Brenna sat straight, her eyes on the road. She chewed on a fingernail.
“Want the air-conditioning on, or the windows down?” Mike asked.
“Let’s have some fresh air. I think I need it for what I have to do.”
Mike couldn’t remember being with Brenna when she wasn’t confident, bossy and totally together—until now. He draped one arm over the steering wheel and stole a glance at her. “What’s going on, Brenna?”
Her eyes narrowed. “It’s nothing. A personal problem. Wouldn’t interest you.”
“You’d be surprised what interests me,” he said. “I’m normally a good listener, though you might get a different opinion from my daughter.”
He waited, but she didn’t provide any information.
He cleared his throat. “So, why are we rushing to your house in the middle of a party? Seems rather strange behavior considering your love of football.”
She gave him something like a genuine smile. “I need to arrange a money transfer, that’s all,” she said. “I promised to send someone a loan.”
“I see. Someone in town?”
“No.”
Though it was probably a dumb idea, Mike decided to probe deeper. “And this person has nowhere else he can get the money? No other source but you?”
“That’s about the size of it.”
Another silence during which Mike focused on the road. “Do you want to hear some music?”
“Not really. After the band at the Riverview just now, I think I’m tired of foot-stomping decibels.”
“Okay.” He drove into town and was relieved when they passed a location that would introduce a neutral topic, maybe get Brenna to open up and at least acknowledge his existence. Mike nodded out his window at a venerable brick building. “Isn’t that where the Cultural Arts Center is going to be?”
She leaned across the gap between the seats and looked. “Yeah, that building was the town’s original library, built in 1912.”
“Looks to be in reasonable condition. Hard to destroy a brick structure.”
“I suppose. It definitely has good bones.”
“Or a good spine, in this case,” Mike said, trying to lighten the mood. When Brenna gave him a confused look he added, “Books used to be there, right? Spine. Get it?”
“Oh. Clever.” She said the words but without conviction.
“So when do we get inside to start working?”
“In a week or so.” It was a vague answer, another indicator that she wasn’t into talking right now. “Turn here,” she said. “This is my street.”
As if he didn’t know that. He slowed and pulled in front of her house. “You want me to go in with you? I promise to mind my own business.”
“Sure. You may as well cool off in my air-conditioning. I think there’s a beer in the refrigerator.”
“No, thanks. What about some lemonade? Any left over from Friday night?” Just mentioning Friday night, those kisses, made him realize that he needed to cool off.
“I think so.”
She unlocked the front door and preceded him inside. She immediately went toward a hallway, explaining that her computer was in her office. “Make yourself at home,” she said as she left him in the living room.
Her instructions wer
e easy to follow. He looked around at the furnishings that defined Brenna and decided that almost anyone would feel at home in and be impressed with the immaculate, comfortable space. The room was small and minimally decorated with quality pieces. A plush beige sofa with accent pillows took up one wall. Two chairs flanked an old stone fireplace. Tasteful artwork, low-lit lamps and a pair of expertly crafted built-in cupboards completed the welcoming atmosphere. After getting the lemonade, Mike sat on the sofa and put his feet on a soft leather ottoman. He did indeed feel at home. A significant step for a man who hadn’t felt at home anywhere in years.
After a few minutes he wandered to the fireplace to get a better look at a pair of pastoral watercolors on each side of the mantel. He wondered where Brenna bought them. A local artist perhaps. They seemed to capture the green hills of the Georgia countryside.
Brenna’s voice carried down the hallway. Despite knowing he was eavesdropping, Mike edged closer. Her words conveyed frustration and more. Worry. A hint of desperation.
“I did this as fast as I could,” she said. “It’s Sunday. The banks aren’t open, and I had to arrange an electronic transfer.”
There was a pause before she added, “The funds should be there now. Tell the hospital to check your account balance.”
Mike heard a soft but rhythmic tapping as if Brenna were drumming her fingernails on her desk. “Yes, I know it was hard for you to ask for the money.” She sighed. “I know you’ll pay me back. Just do what you need to for now.” Her normally steady voice vibrated with obvious concern. “This is all I have. I’m tapped out. You just have to make this work.”
There was another pause during which Brenna sniffled. Mike walked closer to the door to her office and peered in. He knew he was violating her privacy, but he wanted to be there if she needed support. She murmured a quick, “Tell him I love him, and I love you, too,” and disconnected. Mike heard the familiar chimes of a computer shutting down.
She sat in her office chair for nearly a full minute, just staring at the black monitor. Finally Mike coughed into his hand. She turned suddenly. “What are you doing there? Did you listen to my conversation?”
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