by Arlene James
“You’ve got a fan there,” Tyler commented laconically, sitting next to Charlotte on the opposite couch, his arm about her shoulders.
“Yeah, we’re real buddies,” Holt said as Cara pried Ace loose.
He screeched as Cara swiftly carried him away from Holt. Nodding blind smiles in the direction of Charlotte and Tyler, Cara moved for the door, calling out, “Nice to meet you.”
The usual, polite rejoinders followed her from the room. Holt did not. She didn’t expect him to, which made her disappointment that much more difficult to explain.
Cara woke the next morning to the sound of something hitting the window. When she opened the door, what peppered her face felt cold and wet. She turned on the television to find a weather alert crawling across the bottom of the screen.
The long-predicted weather front had finally arrived, dumping sleet over New Mexico, Texas and Oklahoma. Authorities advised everyone to stay indoors and off the roads, but how many would have missed or ignored that warning? Cara looked out the window, unsurprised to find a strange car parked beneath the drive-through. It wouldn’t be the last vehicle to stop at the motel that day.
Over the course of a few hours, sleet turned the roads and ground into one giant skating rink. Icicles grew from eaves and tree branches, tinkling like wind chimes in the frosty breeze. It soon became obvious that they had a real crisis brewing.
Before lunchtime, half a dozen other vehicles slid, literally, into the lot, two of them winding up in the ditch alongside the roadway. By early afternoon, tractor trailer rigs lined the road, leaving barely a single lane free for travel, had anything been moving. Those without sleeper compartments wanted rooms in which to wait out the storm. Fortunately, many of the regular oil field workers who bunked weekdays at the Heavenly Arms had set out the evening before for their respective homes, leaving some of the rooms contracted by the local oil companies free for rental. Those who’d slept in found themselves as stuck as everyone else.
“We’ll have ’em stacked up like cordwood if this don’t let up,” Hap worried.
He sent Cara out to ask the remaining oil field workers to double up, freeing more space. Not ten minutes after she returned to the lobby, Holt showed up with a family of six.
“Found them stranded in their car behind a sand truck,” he explained. The county vehicle had broken down right in the middle of the highway. “They’ve got someone out there working on it now, but I’m betting 81 is blocked for at least tonight.”
Hap looked at the bedraggled couple and their four children, all elementary age or older, standing in the warmth of the lobby. “They can use Cara’s room, but we don’t have any more cots. Won’t be enough beds.”
“Or blankets,” Charlotte added, coming in from the apartment. They’d all been scrambling to accommodate the refugees from the storm, but Charlotte had been a one-woman army, in constant motion with her auburn braid flying out behind her. “I’ve called Ryan on my cell,” she reported, “and he’ll take these folks over at his place if Holt can get them there.”
Holt nodded. “What I don’t know is whether or not I can get back out to my place. Took me all day to get into town, and the roads are worse now than when I started out.”
“What I’m wondering,” Tyler said, arriving just then, “is how we’re going to feed this lot.”
Hap whistled. “I’ll call Teddy and Grover. Maybe they’ll have some ideas.”
“I’ll get our things moved over here,” Cara said.
“Good idea,” Holt told her, nodding toward the front window. A man bundled against the cold tramped and slid on foot across the lawn. “Looks like we’ll be needing it.”
“Tyler and I can sleep in here,” Charlotte volunteered, nodding toward the lobby, “so Cara and Ace can have my old room.”
“Naw, you can have my bed,” Hap said. “I’ll sleep on one of the couches.”
“I’m going to need the other,” Holt informed them all. “For now, let’s just get these folks over to Ryan’s and everyone else moved. If we have to, we’ll make other adjustments later.”
The man pushed through the outer door just then, gasping and looking worried. “Can you put up two kids and two adults? My family’s stuck in our car maybe a mile up the road.”
Holt looked at Hap before addressing the harried fellow. “You come along with me.” He nodded toward the family of six. “We’ll drop off these folks, pick up your bunch, and the room will be ready when we get back.”
The fellow closed his eyes in relief. “Thank you. Thank you.”
“Thank God for snow chains,” Holt said, going through the door.
“Where on earth did he get snow chains?” Tyler wondered aloud, as the party filed out.
“Eh, he keeps ’em in case he has to check on his rig and crew out in the panhandle,” Hap explained. “They get lots worse weather out there than we do here. Usually.”
Charlotte looked to Cara. “I’ll help you move your things. Ty will take care of ours.”
“Me and Ace will hold down the fort here,” Hap said, waving them away.
Tyler had been spreading rock salt, which made walking across the pavement a little easier. Instead of hauling everything across to the apartment, however, Cara decided to take just what they’d need most and leave the rest in the trunk of her car, mindful of the cramped conditions in Charlotte’s old room. With Charlotte’s help, it didn’t take long. Cara made a stoic, silent vow not to care, though it felt as if she’d lost her one true sanctuary.
“I’ll come back and change the sheets,” Cara said as they left, their arms full.
“I’ll get the laundry started then,” Charlotte said, “but I don’t think we ought to be worrying about housekeeping until the roads clear. Folks can do for themselves until this passes.”
“Now we just have to figure out how to feed everyone.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Charlotte told her with a smile.
Within the hour, Grover and Teddy showed up on foot with bags of groceries and the news that both Booker’s store and the café downtown had opened and would remain so as long as necessary. Moreover, city workers were busy sanding and salting. The highways and county roads remained closed, but the city would soon be maneuverable, at least in the short-term, with more sleet predicted during the night.
Thanking God that she and Ace were safe from the storm, along with everyone else at the motel, Cara promised herself that would be enough for her. More, surely, than she deserved.
Chapter Fourteen
O utside, streetlamps softly illuminated a sparkling wonder-land of trees, grass and buildings frosted in ice. Inside, with everyone hunkered down for the night, the Jeffords figured they might as well enjoy their time together. Despite predictions of more sleet and frigid temperatures, everyone could relax and wait out the storm.
The family sat down to a meal prepared by Cara and Charlotte. Hap spoke an eloquent prayer of thanksgiving and petition over it. Afterward, Hap smiled at those around the table.
“We couldn’t have got through this day without every one of you.”
Cara smiled. She’d felt very much a part of things all day long. They’d worked together side by side to handle the crisis, not just the Jeffords but the whole town.
They spent the evening playing dominoes and watching weather reports on the TV. To Cara’s surprise and secret pleasure, Holt took it upon himself to teach her the game of Forty-Two, pulling her chair close to his and murmuring instructions in her ear. Laughter and a sense of well-being blanketed them all as surely as ice blanketed the ground outside. Nevertheless, Cara tried to maintain an emotional distance.
She dared not believe that, just because Holt knew some of her secrets and hadn’t turned out her and her son, all would be well. The worst, to her shame, remained hidden and must continue that way. With that in mind, Cara and Ace retired for the night before everyone else.
The day’s activity should have guaranteed both a sound night’s sleep
. Unfortunately, neither rested well. Ace had gotten too acclimated to the portable crib, now being used by a three-year-old in Room 12, and Cara could not completely relax for fear that Ace would roll off the side of the high double bed that they shared.
Morning found her bleary and aching, but the hot coffee and breakfast that Charlotte provided helped. Though reluctant—attending services these days just seemed to depress her—Cara got ready and tramped with everyone else across the lawn and up the street to the church. Normal Sunday dress yielded to necessity, which left her decked out in jeans, a sweater of Charlotte’s, Hap’s old coat and a pair of galoshes. The condition of the outlying roads naturally diminished the congregation, but nothing diminished the agony of guilt that Cara continued to carry in her heart, and as usual Holt noticed.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, trudging along beside her on the way back to the motel after the service. He carried Ace, as he had earlier.
Cara nodded, determined to feel only gratitude. “Yes, thank you.”
“Are you two comfortable in Charlotte’s old room?”
“We’ll manage,” she said, before succumbing to concern. “Although, I’d appreciate if someone could push the bed up against the dresser so Ace can’t fall off it. Otherwise I don’t know how I can put him down for a nap.”
“I’ll see to it after lunch,” Holt promised.
He shifted the bed, with Tyler’s help, as soon as they rose from the luncheon table. Charlotte, however, saw the real problem.
“We’ve got to clean this out,” she decided. “I shouldn’t have put it off this long.”
“Oh, no. It’s all right,” Cara protested, “so long as Ace can’t fall out of bed.”
Charlotte wouldn’t let it rest, however, bringing up the subject over breakfast the next morning. “There’s just no good excuse,” she stated flatly, “and it’s not like we have anything else to do today.”
“But it’s a lot of trouble,” Cara pointed out, “for temporary convenience.” She’d thought about it during the night and decided that she couldn’t, in good conscience, go on taking up rentable space, no matter how much it hurt to relinquish that little kitchenette, if Charlotte insisted on cleaning out her old bedroom. “So if you’re sure about this, then Ace and I will make the move permanent.”
Holt got up from the table and walked over to gaze into the bedroom, rubbing his chin. “I’ve got a smaller bedroom set at my place,” he said. “We could swap them out. That would help a lot. Provided you girls approve.”
“It’s Cara’s call,” Charlotte insisted. “Maybe by the time we get all this junk emptied out, the roads will be clear enough for the two of you to go take a look at it.” Abruptly, she snapped her fingers. “I wonder if Agnes Dilberry’s still got that crib for sale.”
“I’ll find out,” Holt said.
“Me and Ace are gonna watch the reports,” Hap announced, hobbling toward the front room. “One of you bring him out to me.”
Holt strode over and plucked the boy from his seat, following Hap.
“Granddad sure is fond of that little guy,” Charlotte said, leaning her elbows on the table.
“I’m glad of that,” Cara admitted.
“Not as fond as Holt, though,” Charlotte went on. “I thought Ryan was the one with an affinity for children, but you two seem to have worked a change in my big brother.”
Cara muttered, “Oh, I don’t think it’s anything we’ve done.”
Charlotte chuckled and confided softly, “It’s not just Ace. He follows you with his eyes every moment. Hardly even tries to hide it.”
He’s probably afraid I’ll steal something, Cara remarked to herself, bowing her head.
Holt reappeared just then, his cell phone in hand. “I called Agnes. She’ll have the crib ready for pickup soon as the weather clears.”
“Oh. Uh, I don’t know,” Cara began, thinking of her meager savings. “How much does she want for it?”
“Why?” Holt asked. “You’re not paying for it.”
“But—”
“I’ll let the two of you work it out,” Charlotte said airily, popping up and moving toward the bedroom. “Just remember, big brother, you catch more flies with honey than acid.”
Holt stared down at Cara. “I’m not trying to catch flies.”
“Girlfriends, then!” came the retort from the bedroom.
Holt’s gaze never wavered from Cara’s.
Blinking rapidly, she opened her mouth to speak, but what was she supposed to say in light of his silence? After a moment, he followed his sister into the bedroom.
Cara felt stuck to the chair.
Why, she wondered, hadn’t he spoken up? Why let his sister assume that they were linked romantically? Holt simply could not think of her that way, despite that one kiss, not now that he knew what he did about her. Could he?
Ridiculous! Holt told himself as the knot in his stomach tightened. What did it matter what Cara thought of his place? He’d proudly built the house nearly ten years ago, and he loved living out here in the middle of this quarter section, surrounded by his own land and his own cattle and his own things. He didn’t care what anyone else thought of it. Except suddenly he did.
He took the turn off the narrow county road, the truck bumping roughly over the cattle guard. Beside him, Cara sat up a little straighter, her gaze avidly sweeping the area.
“Oh, this is wonderful,” she said, but he imagined her comment had to do with being out and about after three days cooped up inside the motel. “I love the trees and the way the ground sort of rolls, even the barn. It’s beautiful.”
Holt relaxed somewhat as the truck barreled down the long, dusty drive. Okay, so she didn’t hate the surroundings, not that it mattered. He was not trying to impress her. He didn’t know what he was doing with her, frankly, only that he hated the air of shame and timidity about her lately. He ached for her sometimes, but he didn’t have a clue what to do to help her. She’d lied, bought fake identity papers from some creep that her husband had known and wouldn’t reveal why, even when confronted, but Holt had come to the conclusion that it must be for a good reason. He couldn’t reconcile anything else with the woman and mother he’d found her to be, and he was sick and tired of trying to keep a “safe” distance between them.
The truck made the curve in the drive, and she gasped.
“You built this? All by yourself?”
He brought the truck to a stop in its usual spot beneath the carport and killed the engine. “Who told you?”
“Charlotte,” she answered, opening her door with one hand and releasing her safety belt with the other.
A gust of wind whipped through the brief opening. Thanks to that dry wind every exposed expanse of road had been swept clean during the night, despite the frigid temperatures. Holt hurried to join Cara on the porch, where she huddled inside Hap’s old coat, one mittened hand placed flat against the paneled door.
“Red!” she exclaimed approvingly.
“To match the roof and the barn,” he admitted, reaching down to turn the knob and get them both out of that cruel wind. He’d never seen the need to lock up the place out here.
Her eyes wide, Cara tiptoed through the tiny foyer set off by spindles from the greater room. Head pivoting, she took in everything from the open living area with its spare leather furniture to the kitchen visible beyond the L-shaped breakfast bar and the empty dining space.
“I especially like the floor,” she said.
Holt had laid every plank of the polished wood by his own hand. “Charlotte picked out the rugs,” he told her, puffed up with pride.
Cara looked at the bandanna-patterned throw rugs. “I see you love red.” He shrugged, inordinately pleased that she’d pegged his favorite color.
“How many bedrooms?” she asked.
“Two.” He gestured toward the hallway branching off on his right. “And two baths.” He pointed to a door in the back wall of the kitchen. “Laundry room’s over there, and that
…” He directed his finger to the glass-paned door off one end of the living area. “That’s my office.”
He knew the place must seem somewhat bare to her, especially when compared to Hap’s apartment, but Holt found it easier to keep the place neat and clean that way.
“It must be wonderful to own your own home,” she commented wistfully, “and to be able to do this all yourself.” She spread her hands. “Amazing.”
Holt bowed his head, smiling as much at his earlier nervousness as at her approval of his home. “Thanks,” he said, adding quickly, “The bedroom set we could swap for is in here.” As he led her down the hall to a door on the left, he asked casually, “You and your husband didn’t own a house then?”
“We lived in a house,” she said. “It wasn’t ours, though. It belonged to my in-laws.” He paused, and she leaned a shoulder against the cream-colored wall, smiling ruefully. “Decorated and maintained according to their dictates.”
Holt raised his eyebrows at that. “But it was your home even if it was their house.”
She shook her head. “Not really. Whatever they thought we should have, that’s what we had. Whatever they thought we should do, that’s what we did. What he did.” She dropped her gaze, murmuring, “They’re very controlling. I should have realized they held the deed to the house.”
Holt goggled at that. “You didn’t know?”
“Not until Addison died,” she told him, folding her arms.
“Your husband didn’t tell you that your house belonged to his parents?” Holt couldn’t believe the subject hadn’t come up between them at some point.
“Addison wouldn’t have,” she answered softly, “because he knew what it meant to me.” She lifted her head then, explaining, “You see, my brother and I grew up in apartments, a whole string of them, each one more of a dump than the last.” A wan smile curled her lips. “I thought Aunt Jane’s old house was a palace until I married Addison. Then I found out that luxury does not make a home.” She pushed away from the wall, saying, “If you must know, that little kitchenette at the motel is the closest I’ve ever come to actually having a home of my own.”
