The Long, Hot Texas Summer

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  “I’ll leave the mailing envelope and everything with it front and center on your desk.”

  “Thank you.” Justin still seemed less than pleased by her response. Luckily, the tension was cut by the roar of what sounded like a tractor-trailer coming up the drive. She shot a look at Justin. “Are you expecting anyone?”

  “Not today.” Justin paced to the front door, looked outside and groaned.

  Watching, Amanda called from the kitchen doorway. “What is it?”

  Justin swore. “The bunkhouse furniture.”

  * * *

  “JUSTIN SURE IS grouchy,” Lamar noted several hours later.

  “That’s because it has been one of those days where everything that could go wrong has gone wrong,” Amanda reassured him.

  The bunkhouse furniture had been prematurely delivered, which meant it had to either be stored in the lodge or sent back to the Dallas warehouse and they’d have to wait another two weeks for redelivery. Sending the furniture back wasn’t an option since the KLTZ crew was due to film their Local Heroes piece on Friday. While they were attempting to make room for the furniture, the state auditor had arrived to take a look at the ranch’s books.

  Justin had no sooner gotten the auditor situated in a room apart from his cluttered office than the architect had arrived—along with a surveyor—to decide the best place to situate the woodworking shop. The two men had driven in from Fort Worth and hadn’t had time to stop for a meal en route. So Lamar and Amanda had ended up making more pizza and a huge salad, and inviting everyone—including the truck driver and his unloading partner—to stay for an impromptu lunch amid all the chaos.

  “Everybody liked our pizza, though, didn’t they?” Lamar remarked as they finished the last of the dishes.

  Amanda smiled. Lamar was really getting the hang of thinking on his feet in stressful situations. “They really did.” And with good reason. The meal had been excellent. No doubt about it. Lamar had an innate talent for cooking as well as carpentry.

  “Are you going to teach all the kids that come here to cook?”

  Amanda wiped down the kitchen counters. “I was thinking about it. What do you think?”

  Lamar took care of the table. “They’d probably like it, too, although I don’t know about all that recipe stuff.”

  She had noticed he’d seemed more confused than comforted by the written instructions. But then, she supposed that was normal for someone with zero experience in the kitchen. “You’ll get the hang of it.” Amanda paused to add a little water to the herb pots she’d situated along the windowsill.

  “Maybe,” Lamar looked doubtful. “But I like doing stuff that’s easy to memorize.”

  Amanda walked outside with Lamar. They stopped at the shed to pick up the gear they needed before proceeding to the bunkhouse. “Are you ready to put the final coat of sealant on the floors?” Amanda checked to make sure all the windows were open, to ensure maximum ventilation and quicker drying time.

  Nodding, Lamar picked up a can of polyurethane, a brush for the corners and tight areas, drip pan, and mop-style applicator. “You want to do it the same way we did it yesterday?”

  “You start in the corner of each of the bedrooms, and work your way to the door. I’ll do the kitchen and dining room and we’ll meet up in the living room.”

  They worked well in tandem. By four o’clock they were outside, starting the cleanup, when her cell phone rang. Able to see from the caller ID that it was the chairwoman of the board of directors, Amanda stripped off her gloves and answered. “Hey, Libby. What’s up?”

  “Hi, Amanda. I was just talking with a friend of mine, who’s overseeing the grant applications at the Lone Star United Foundation. He said ours hadn’t been received yet. I wanted to make sure it was in the mail, since it has to be postmarked today to be considered.”

  Oh, no. Amanda blew out a breath. “Justin finished it this morning.” Somehow, she managed to sound a lot more with-it than she was. “I’m on my way to the post office right now.” Or she would be, Amanda amended silently, as soon as she dashed inside the lodge to get it.

  “Great,” Libby enthused. “The post office in town closes promptly at five, you know.”

  Amanda tried not to panic. “Yes. Justin mentioned that.” Her heart pounding, Amanda thanked Libby for the reminder and ended the call. She turned to Lamar. “I’ve got to go into town to mail something that’s got to go out today. Will you be okay finishing the cleanup on your own?”

  “Sure.”

  Amanda hesitated.

  “I remember what we did yesterday,” Lamar promised.

  She knew he had an excellent memory. Far better than most kids his age. “Okay, but just to be sure...” She reached into her pocket for the small notepad and pen she habitually carried to mark down measurements. “I’m going to write out everything you need to do—in order. And don’t forget, the rags and the used roller sponges should be left outside in the empty paint trays to dry. Everything else should be put in the shed with the door closed.”

  “No problem.”

  Amanda tore off the paper and handed it to him. Her pulse racing, she ran toward the lodge, dashed inside, slowing to a deceptively casual walk as she passed the room where Justin was hunched over a desk with the auditor, and then hurried into her office. She grabbed the huge stack of papers from the desk, a pen and the mailing envelope, then headed quickly back out again, aware she now had only forty-one minutes to get to the post office. And she hadn’t even signed anything yet!

  Racing against time, Amanda drove toward Laramie. Halfway there, she came across a small traffic jam, caused by a wide-bodied tractor mowing the berm. It cost her a good ten minutes. Shortly after that, several volunteer fire department vehicles, including a fire truck, passed her, sirens blazing.

  Giving a silent prayer that whoever needed EMS was going to be okay, Amanda turned her attention back to driving and the directions on her dash-mounted GPS.

  Unfortunately, she was so rattled she got turned around once she hit the historic downtown area, where she encountered another traffic jam caused by the usual early-evening rush.

  Finally, she located the post office, a small square building with an empty flag pole in front of it, and no other cars in the lot. She parked her truck, just as her phone rang.

  Justin.

  Figuring it best not to talk with him until she had completed her mailing, she got out of the car and sprinted toward the door. And found, not surprisingly, that it was locked, since it was now 5:10. No reason to panic. She would just find another post office that stayed open later.

  Amanda went back to her truck and consulted the internet via her phone. To her relief, she saw the main post office in the next county was open until seven. GPS directions estimated it to be about an hour away from her current location.

  No problem. She would just go there.

  Amanda started the ignition and headed out.

  She was fifteen minutes outside the Laramie city limits when Justin called again. Figuring he probably wanted to know if she had indeed gotten the grant application mailed, she again decided not to pick up. Better to talk with him after she had completed the task as promised.

  Unfortunately, he called her again two minutes later. And again, three minutes after that. Beginning to think something was wrong besides her bad memory, Amanda took the call. “Hey,” she said, as if everything was fine with her.

  Only to hear him sounding frantic on the other end.

  “Amanda, thank God I reached you! I’m with Lamar at the Laramie Community Hospital E.R.”

  Her heart sank. “My God! What happened?”

  “I’ll explain when we see you,” Justin promised in a low, clipped tone.

  And Amanda knew, even without him saying, that whatever had happened was all her fault.

/>   * * *

  JUSTIN HAD NEVER been one to hover. He was hovering now, like the worst helicopter parent, and he didn’t care. With the foster parents and Amanda still en route to the hospital, he was all the kid had. Justin was determined not to let him down.

  Lamar teared up as he eased himself into a sitting position on the stretcher. His face smudged with soot, he looked incredibly young and vulnerable in the hospital gown. “Amanda’s going to be mad at me.”

  Seeing Lamar so distraught made Justin want to lose it, too. He fought to remain as calm as the kid needed him to be. “No, she’s not,” he said soothingly. Glad a little dirt was all they worried about, he forced Lamar to lie back against the pillows. “And put your oxygen mask back on.”

  The exam room door swung open. Amanda rushed in. She was a mess. Justin had never been simultaneously so angry and so glad to see someone in his life. What had she been thinking, leaving Lamar to his own devices? Without even letting Justin know she was headed for town? Did she really think he cared more about the grant application than the teenager in their charge?

  Oblivious to Justin’s tumultuous emotions, she stared at Lamar, as if unable to take it all in, then rushed to hug the teen like he were her long-lost child. “Oh, Lamar!” She released him slowly and pivoted to Justin. “What happened?”

  What happened, Justin seethed, was that Amanda had been incredibly irresponsible! Struggling with a burst of temper that he knew had as much to do with relief as it did anger, Justin snapped, “He put paint-thinner-soaked rags in the shed and shut the door. The combination of closed air and extreme summer heat caused them to ignite within, oh, say five minutes....”

  Amanda clapped a hand over her mouth. More tears welled. “Oh, my God.”

  Lamar shook his head and started to cry in earnest, too. He shifted his mask again. “She told me not to do that, Justin. It’s not her fault—it’s mine. Look!” Coughing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled paper as proof. “She wrote everything down for me.”

  Justin studied the familiar writing. Sure enough, the instructions she’d left were detailed and clear as day. Air-dry the rags and paint rollers in the paint trays. Do not put in shed. Beneath that, underlined, was, Important—to prevent spontaneous combustion.

  “Why didn’t you follow her instructions?” he asked Lamar, looking frustrated with both of them. “Especially if you had gone through this exact same procedure yesterday?”

  Lamar looked even more frightened and on edge. “Because I...I...”

  Sure the kid was hiding something, as well as doing all he could to protect the woman he adored, Justin unleashed his anger on Amanda. “You realize we could be denied our license because of this?” If they weren’t, it would be a damn miracle!

  Amanda turned ashen. She looked confused, upset, humiliated, all of which made Justin feel worse.

  “I—” Trembling, she choked back a sob. “I’m sorry.” Trying to pull herself together, she finally looked from one to the other. “Is Lamar going to be all right?”

  Thanking heaven for that, Justin nodded grimly.

  Lamar nodded, too. “It’s just smoke inhalation,” he explained through his oxygen mask. “Because I smelled something burning and opened the shed...and...breathed in...”

  Distraught, Amanda sank down into a chair. Completely overwhelmed, she buried her head in her hands.

  Silence fell.

  Justin stared at the crumpled notepaper, knowing instinctively there was more to this, something Lamar had yet to reveal. He turned to his young charge, wanting to help, knowing he would never be able to unless the teen was straight with him. “I know you have this thing about not following instructions,” he drawled.

  His efforts to prod the truth out of Lamar worked. The boy’s jaw set. “It wasn’t that.”

  “Then what was it?”

  Lamar glared back at him. “You really want to know?”

  Justin nodded and pushed even harder. “After what happened this afternoon, I think the least you owe us is an explanation!”

  Tears sprang to Lamar’s eyes. He threw up his arms, shouting belligerently, “I can’t read, okay? I. Can’t. Read. Anything! Got it?” Coughing, Lamar ripped off his mask and tried to swing his legs off the gurney.

  Amanda leaped up, tears streaming down her face. She caught Lamar by the shoulders, just the way a loving mother would, and held him in place. She replaced his oxygen mask. “What do you mean, you can’t read?” she asked gently, searching his eyes, sharing his pain.

  Misery engulfed Lamar. “I just can’t,” he declared haltingly. “I never could.”

  “Which is why you hate school,” Amanda said, with all the empathy a child could ever want or need. “Why you refuse to do your assignments. Why you skip class and didn’t want to go back.”

  “Yes.” Lamar broke down completely and thrust himself all the way into Amanda’s arms. She held him tight. Eventually, Justin joined in. And that was the way the medical staff found them, clinging together, comforting, consoling, like the family they had become.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Amanda knows we have a television crew coming first thing tomorrow to do the story on the ranch?” Libby asked at noon on Friday.

  Justin looked at his longtime friend. “She’s aware.” Very much aware, as a matter of fact.

  Libby watched him use a dolly to roll the last of the furniture down to the bunkhouse. Clearly frustrated with all the recent setbacks that threatened to derail the project they’d all worked so hard on, she asked, “Then, where is Amanda?”

  Wasn’t that the question of the day! Justin shrugged and headed back to the lodge to get the table lamps he’d already unpacked and assembled. “I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her since she left the hospital last night, after Lamar’s foster parents showed up to take him home.”

  “Did she say where she was going?” Her low voice radiated with concern.

  Justin exhaled. “She said something about finishing up a few errands, that she’d see me at some point after that.”

  “But Amanda didn’t come back to the ranch last night.”

  “No,” Justin replied tersely. “She didn’t.” Neither had she been at her trailer. He knew, because he’d gone back and forth between the two locations all night long and this morning, looking for any sign of her. There had been none.

  Libby frowned. “Have you spoken to her grandfather?”

  Justin nodded. “A.B. is in San Angelo. He said he hadn’t seen her, either, but told me not to worry.” Like that was even possible. “He thinks she’ll show up eventually.”

  “I hope so.” Libby checked her phone for messages. “Do you want me to call some of the other board members, help you finish setting up the bunkhouse?”

  All Justin wanted at the moment was to be alone, to try to process everything that had happened. Irritated with himself for not having seen this coming, even though all the signs had been there, clear as day, he replied curtly, “I’ve got it. Thanks.”

  Libby touched his arm. Happily married herself, she wanted the same for him. Everyone on the board did. “Please call me if you need me.”

  He nodded, promising that he would.

  After she left, Justin went back to carrying lamps. He was about ready to start setting up bunkhouse beds when the dogs jumped up and ran to the door. He walked outside and saw Amanda getting out of her truck.

  She looked like she had showered and washed her hair since he had last seen her, but her face was pale and drawn, and she was wearing the same clothes she’d had on the day before. Where had she been?

  She came toward him, an envelope in her hand. Her amber eyes glistened with a mixture of sorrow and regret, and suddenly he only wanted to know one thing. He caught her by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”

&n
bsp; She nodded, then took a step back. “Can we talk?”

  Aware they should have done this yesterday, before they left the hospital, Justin reached for her hand. She resisted his touch. Realizing she needed her physical space, he reluctantly drew away.

  She crossed the yard to the lodge. Her shoulders taut, she moved gracefully up the steps and sat down on the front porch.

  The afternoon was blisteringly hot, but she did not appear to want to go inside the air-conditioned comfort of the lodge.

  He followed her gaze to the burned-out shell of the shed.

  Her lower lip trembled and tears filled her eyes. “It’s ruined.”

  Justin settled opposite her. Still wishing she would let him hold her, he leaned against the rail, hands braced on either side of him. “Things can be replaced.”

  Amanda drew another breath, more shaky than before. “Sometimes they can,” she agreed, sounding a bit stronger now. She paused, looking him right in the eye. “But sometimes mistakes can’t be undone.” Her jaw set. “I didn’t get the grant application in on time yesterday.” She tensed, forcing herself to go on, “The truth is, I got so busy I forgot all about it.”

  Justin had already ascertained as much. The application was the least of his worries when the woman he wanted more than anything seemed poised to storm out of his life as swiftly and unexpectedly as she had stormed in.

  Amanda shook her head in mute regret. “The fact is, if Libby hadn’t called me yesterday afternoon to inquire about it, I would have let the deadline come and go. But once she reminded me about it, I grabbed the grant application, left Lamar with instructions and ran off to the Laramie post office to mail it.”

  Justin could understand all that. He would have done the same thing. With one exception. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?”

  Her fingers tightened on the envelope in her lap. “Because I didn’t want you to know I had come so close to failing the ranch.” She scoffed in self-contempt, then continued softly. “I thought I could get there in time and make the deadline without you ever knowing I had screwed up.”