by Delia Latham
Tears clogged Norah’s throat. Shay and Hoss had shown her more kindness already than she’d experienced in the three years since her father died.
“I love this place, Shay, but…I don’t have any money. I can’t afford anything like this.”
Shay’s brow furrowed. “Who said anything about money? Look, sweetie, we all need a hand up now and then. I believe God expects those of us who have the means to help someone, to do it—where and when and however we can. I also think He expects us to accept kindness when it’s offered if we need it.” She shrugged and squeezed Norah’s hand. “We’ll talk about money after you’ve worked a while and gotten settled in a bit. For now, this place is not bein’ used, and I won’t have you sleepin’ out in the open somewhere—not when I can put a roof over your head. It’s not safe out there these days, ’specially for a young girl who looks like you.” Her gaze traveled Norah’s face and she shook her head. “Sweetie, your kind of beauty is bought and sold on a huge scale these days, and most often without the consent of its owner. You’re stayin’ right here, out of harm’s way.”
Overwhelmed, Norah threw herself into her new friend’s arms. Shay held her and whispered soothing words until she stopped crying.
“I don’t know what you’re runnin’ from, Norah Perlman.” She cupped Norah’s tear-dampened cheeks between her hands and captured her gaze. “But you’re safe here. You’ve got friends—me, Hoss, and my Gary—and we’ll all be prayin’ for you. Now rest, hon. You have to be up early tomorrow.”
She walked out, and the door clicked shut.
Alone, Norah stood in the middle of the room. She waited for the familiar feeling of loss and fear. Instead, her heart sang. Gratitude filled the empty, scary places in her soul that had tormented her since she became an orphan at thirteen.
And something else…peace. She hadn’t experienced this kind of sweet, soothing calmness in so long she’d almost forgotten what it was.
She unpacked the suitcase that had traveled along from her childhood home to her brother’s place, and from there to her husband’s house, which never was and never would have been home to her. Now she’d brought it here, hundreds of miles from Echo City, Arizona, to a town she knew nothing of, with strangers who felt like family.
Grinning through happy tears, Norah stowed the battered piece of luggage in the darkest corner of the closet in her new bedroom. With any luck, it would stay there for a long time.
* * * *
The next night, Norah huffed out an exhausted breath and tossed her apron into the laundry bin at the back of the Ponderosa Kitchen. Shay hadn’t exaggerated even a little when she warned that the café got “really busy” sometimes. This first day had broken Norah in without an ounce of cushioning and barely a moment to breathe.
Hoss shot her a wide grin in passing. “You did great, kid. You were right. I’m not sorry I hired you.”
Her weariness disappeared in a wave of pleasure. She’d made the boss happy. Shay too. The cheery, green-eyed waitress had told her more than once that she was doing an outstanding job on her first day at the Ponderosa.
The customers must’ve agreed. Norah hadn’t had time to count the tips in her pocket, but based on mental calculations, she’d be taking home about sixty dollars—which went a long way toward making her more comfortable with being on her own in an unfamiliar place full of unfamiliar people. Thank goodness the first two she’d met proved the epitome of kindness.
Someone, somewhere, must care about her. Maybe Daddy and Mama’s God really did exist, though she’d never sensed His presence. She wasn’t quite ready to accept that possibility as a fact, but maybe it was something to think about.
Shay stepped into the little laundry alcove and sent her apron flying in the same path Norah’s had taken. “Whew! This has been one crazy day, kiddo. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Norah grinned. “You’re pretty tough, getting through a day like this while training a newbie.”
Shay laughed. “I wouldn’t call you a newbie. You did a great job—far better than some trainees even after a week or more. You’re a quick study.”
“Thanks.” The compliment enveloped Norah in a warm glow. Doing a good job was important to her. Daddy’d always said anything worth doing was worth doing well. He also said, “If somebody’s payin’ you to do a job, you give ’em all you got and then some. Anythin’ less is bitin’ the hand that feeds you.”
Norah had taken the words to heart. Shay and Hoss couldn’t know how much it meant when they expressed appreciation for her work.
Shay reached for her purse. “Ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“You guess so?” The older woman chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Oh, to be sixteen again.” She hiked her eyebrows. “How old are you, new girl?”
“Sixteen.”
“Wow. And on your own.” Shay shook her head. “You know, if you ever want to share your story, I’m all ears. Until then, just consider me a big sister. If you need anything, you know where to find me. And don’t forget, someone is prayin’ for you, always.”
Norah hadn’t prayed even once since her father died. Truth be told, she hadn’t prayed much before then either. She’d bowed her head and shown respect when Daddy prayed, listened when he read from the big family Bible that always rested on the mantel above the fireplace. But she rarely breathed a prayer of her own. Why bother? Never once had she witnessed an answer to prayer. But believing God heard and answered his quiet petitions seemed to give her father peace of mind, and she’d loved him enough to respect his faith. She simply hadn’t any of her own.
“Thanks, Shay. That means a lot.”
“You’re welcome. Now come on. Let’s get out of here.”
~ Chapter 2 ~
B
ACK AT HER LITTLE HOME, Norah heated a can of soup she found in the kitchen cabinet. She mentally added a trip to the grocery store at the top of her to-do list, although her job would help a lot with the cost of food. Hoss adamantly refused to let her pay for lunch at the diner.
“Consider it part of your wages. I can’t pay what I’d like to…what I think you’re worth…but I can make sure you’ve got food in your stomach, at least while you’re on the clock at the Ponderosa.”
Maybe this was all a lovely dream. She’d wake up and find herself back in the shack Chandler Dunn called home, cringing at the sound of his staggering footsteps outside the bedroom door. Or at her brother James’ place, cooking, cleaning and tending his four rambunctious boys while their mother lazed on the sofa, watching soap operas and reading novels with downright embarrassing covers.
At the thought, her heart pinched a bit. She loved her nephews and missed their laughter and the shenanigans they got into on a regular basis. But they were a handful, and hers had been the hands they’d filled for the past three years. Surely, in her absence, their mother would take care of them. Failing that, James would without a doubt do whatever was necessary for their welfare. Her brother loved his wife, Quinn, but he adored his boys, and would not allow them to suffer neglect. Perhaps that’s why he’d been so ready to take Norah in after their dad passed.
She showered and curled up on the loveseat to watch a movie, but her mind wouldn’t be still. Finally, she gave up, turned off the television and climbed into bed. Memories swooped in, picking at her brain like ugly vultures.
Echo City, Arizona, three years earlier
Norah prepared breakfast, as always, but Daddy didn’t enter the kitchen at seven o’clock on the dot, freshly shaven and dressed to face the day. She’d never known that to happen. Not ever. She waited, gnawing at the inside of her lip, for a half hour. When the clock struck 7:30, she bounced off her chair and bolted into his room.
In the doorway, she skidded to a halt. Still in bed? Was he sick?
“Daddy?” The word came out more like the squeak of a mouse than a real voice.
He didn’t react at all, just lay perfectly still, as if sound asleep. He fac
ed away from the door. Norah moved closer and rounded the bed, where she stopped. Her tummy knotted and she felt a little sick herself.
“Daddy?” She spoke his name, but having seen the still, white face on his pillow, Norah knew…this sleep was an eternal one. Still, she whispered, “Daddy?” She screamed, “Daddy!” She wept and pleaded, but her father didn’t respond to her frantic cries.
“Daddy, please, please answer me!” Working up courage that didn’t come easy, she cupped his cheek in her hand, and then flinched and jerked her fingers away as quick as a lightning flash. Oh, he’s cold! So horribly, awfully cold...
Not knowing what else to do, she called her brother. The moment James’ voice came over the line, she burst into sobs and couldn’t manage a single word. He soothed and encouraged until at last she choked out the unspeakable news, her breath hitching between almost every word. “It’s D—Daddy. He’s d—d—” She paused to pull in a deep breath. “I think he’s d—dead.”
“Ooph!” The single word exploded into her ear, rather like the muffled sound of a blown tire from two blocks and thirty houses away. He said nothing else for the longest time, and then, so gently, “Are you okay, sis?”
“N—no. He’s s—so c—c—cold!”
“Shhh. Take it easy, Norah Lee. Close his door and go in the living room or wait outside. I’ll call 9-1-1 and take care of a couple other little things before I head your way. But I’ll be there as soon as I can, I promise.”
When he showed up less than an hour later, Norah was huddled into their father’s favorite, well-worn chair. She shivered as if chilled to the bone, despite the Arizona summer heat.
“Come here, sweetheart.” The gruff, gravelly voice sounded nothing like James’ normal, pleasant baritone. He picked her up almost bodily, hugged her close.
“Go pack some things. You’re coming home with me. Don’t try to get everything you own right now. We’ll come back in a few days to empty out the house. You can get whatever you want then, including a few of Dad’s and Mom’s belongings that mean something to you, so you’ll have them to keep. For right now, grab whatever you need to get through the next couple of days. As soon as the funeral home folks take—I mean, we have to wait for them.”
As soon as they take Daddy away. That’s what James didn’t say.
Despite her crushing sorrow, Norah learned what genuine, overwhelming relief meant that day, when her brother arrived. Never a delicate lily of a girl, she’d still wondered and fretted while she waited for him in the house she’d called home for thirteen years…since the day she was born. Now the man she loved more than anything in life lay in the next room—without breath, silent, and so very cold. How would she survive with both parents gone?
All three of her brothers were already married or soon-to-be-married by the time she was born. She loved them all, but Brian and Callan seemed more like uncles than brothers.
Of all her siblings, only the eldest, James, lived nearby. The other brothers both resided at the northern tip of New Mexico. Her sister, Addie, although closer in age to Norah, married young and moved to California with her husband.
James visited often. Despite working long hours at a physically challenging job and having a demanding wife and four adorable little boys at home, he checked in on Daddy and her at least twice a week. She was closest in heart to her oldest sibling.
Going home with him now that Daddy was gone seemed the perfect solution. They watched the hearse drive away with their father, and then she climbed into her brother’s car, her heart a great deal more at ease than before he arrived.
Quinn dragged herself off the sofa and joined them in the hallway when they arrived. Not for the first time, Norah found it disturbing that her sister-in-law’s beautiful face seemed almost plastic. Above perfect high cheekbones, cool gray eyes expressed no emotion at all, certainly no trace of warmth. Except for the moments when condescension or sarcasm provided a dull gleam deep within their depths, the woman’s pale gaze resembled that of a department-store mannequin.
“Come on.” She edged away without a word of greeting. “You’ll be sleeping back here.”
James frowned. “Quinn.”
His pretty wife hiked one brow, heaved an exaggerated sigh, and rolled her doll-like eyes. Placing a hand on each of Norah’s shoulders, she touched a chilly cheek to the younger woman’s. “Sorry ’bout your dad.” She drew away so quickly Norah wasn’t quite sure any contact had been made. Casting another high-browed glance at her husband, Quinn motioned for Norah to follow her. “There’s really no room for anyone else in this house. You’ll have to sleep out here.”
“Out here” meant the back porch. Walls extended halfway to the low ceiling. Screens filled in the remaining space. A hodgepodge of curtains blocked prying eyes, and someone—most likely James—had hung a thick wooden dowel across one corner of the room.
“You can hang your clothes over there.” Quinn gestured toward a cardboard box on the floor. That’s all the hangers I could find.”
Norah shrugged. “No problem. Most of my clothes can be folded.”
A curt nod, and her sister-in-law sighed. “Maybe James can find a shelf for…other stuff. We don’t have an extra chest’er drawers.” She swung toward the door. “You oughta get some sleep. You’ll be busy tomorrow.”
Alone, Norah curled up as small as she could on the narrow cot. Quinn’s lack of welcome was no surprise. Still, she so longed to be held, for someone to tell her everything would be all right, even with Daddy gone. That first night in her brother’s home, with the corner of her pillow stuffed in her mouth to stifle the sounds, she cried herself to sleep.
The next day, Quinn’s final statement of the previous night proved nothing less than truthful. Norah was busy. She worked from early morning until after dark, cleaning every floor and mopboard throughout the house, and taking care of the boys. Quinn sat on the sofa, wrapped in a quilt. She told Norah she felt “a little lightheaded and faintified.”
That day proved a pattern for many to follow. Norah didn’t mind at first…not really. She’d never been afraid of getting her hands dirty, and even kind of enjoyed cleaning house and seeing the results of her hard work. But every day? Unless Quinn was meeting a friend for lunch or a shopping spree, she seldom felt well enough to get off the couch. A little at a time, she relegated all household chores to Norah—cooking, cleaning, even caring for the children.
But after that first weepy night, Norah refused to cry again. Daddy wouldn’t want her to lie around wallowing in sorrow. As far as she knew, Art Perlman hadn’t shed a single tear in his life. If he had, he hadn’t done it where his children could see.
She vividly remembered the day Mama died. Her daddy took seven-year-old Norah in his lap and let her cry until she fell asleep. He hadn’t moved from that old rocker until she awakened, confused and disoriented. Then he’d given her one of his rare smiles and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
“Norah Lee. You’re finally awake, little sleepyhead.”
She nodded drowsily. “Where’s mommy?” And then, jarring memory brought her to full alert. Mommy wasn’t there. She’d never be there again. Her lips trembled as she lifted a stricken gaze to her father’s.
“Shhh. It’ll all work out, child. Always does. You and me, we gotta keep on keepin’ on. Don’t got no ’nother choice.” Daddy’s work-roughened fingers stroked her hair. “You’ll miss your mama, but you’re not alone. I’m here for you—always here for you. And God…well, He’s here for the both of us. You wipe those tears now and show Mommy what a brave little lady you are. ’Cause I got a feelin’ she’s watchin’ us both, Norah Lee. Watchin’ out for us, just like always.”
Ruidoso
She pulled in a deep breath and shook off the haunting memories. At some point, she’d have to let James know she was all right. But not yet. Chances were, he wasn’t even aware she was gone. Considering the warning he’d given her husband, Chandler probably hadn’t told him anything.
James wasn
’t a large man, but years of hard labor had resulted in surprising strength that matched a tough inner core. The combination created an understated physical manifestation of compact power. Most people recognized this about him right away. Back before she made the mistake of marrying Chandler, the two of them had discussed the subject once, over a table at Toms’ Time-out Hangout, where she worked.
“I like your brother. He’s a straight shooter.” Chandler chuckled and one corner of his lips lifted into the crooked smile that always turned her heart into a jackhammer. “Tough, too. He’s a head shorter’n me, and I prob’ly outweigh him by twenty-five pounds. But the guy’s arms…” He shot one dark eyebrow way up and dropped the other low over his eyelid. “Man, they’re totally ripped. I got a feelin’ any man with an ounce of sense in his head knows better’n to go up against James Perlman and expect to win—least, not in a fair fight.”
Remembering that conversation, Norah felt confident James had no idea she was gone. Chandler couldn’t tell him without explaining why, and he had to know that would not go well. If nothing else, her handsome hubby-for-a-moment possessed a well-honed knack for self-preservation.
Her brother had never once stopped in at her job. She had no reason to believe he would now. He’d called her once or twice after she moved out but seemed content to believe she was happy unless she said otherwise.
She’d give it a day or two, and then call him. She needed to get comfortable on the path she’d created for herself. When she contacted James, she would be confident and unmoving. No matter what, Echo City was behind her, and Norah refused to go anywhere but forward.
* * * *
By the next evening, her conscience insisted she make that call. Seated at her tiny dining table with a glass of sweet tea, Norah dialed her brother’s number.
