Fire From The Sky | Book 8 | Hell Fire

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Fire From The Sky | Book 8 | Hell Fire Page 4

by Reed, N. C.


  “To say we'll miss him is the same as saying we miss television, weather forecasts, and Saturday nights on the town. He was as much a part of this place as the grass and the trees. His blood runs through the soil, and now we'll lay his body to rest in it as well. I expect if anyone ever arrives here that can see and hear spirits, they'll encounter Leon, shouting that we're doing something wrong and trying to tell us what we should be doing instead.” This elicited more laughter, less forced this time.

  “I truthfully don't know what else to say,” Gordon admitted finally. “He'll be resting beside my mother, for the first time in a very long while. I know that will make him happy, and while I will miss him, as we all will, I'm glad that there's a chance now for him to rest, and perhaps be near her once more. I know he'll be watching over us. I know he was proud of all you kids,” he spoke to his own children and their children, and included Greg and Jake in the group. “Even when he didn't say it, I know it was true. Let that be what you remember, kids,” he smiled warmly. “The Old Man loved you all, and was as proud of you as he could be.”

  With that Gordon returned to his seat next to his wife, Angela gripping his hand tightly in hers as she wiped her own eyes dry.

  The sound of bag pipes playing “Amazing Grace” soon filled the air around them. Sons, grandsons and honorary grandsons, great-grandsons and friends gathered at the simple pine box containing the body of Leon Sanders. Taking the handholds in their grip, the men gently lifted the box and carried it to the grave that was already prepared. Using ropes beneath the box, they slowly and ever so carefully lowered Leon into his final resting place, the coffin settling perfectly on the wood runners beneath it.

  Each member of the family as well as those considered family filed by one last time, each dropping a handful of dirt onto the wooden top of the casket. Finished, the group headed for home, leaving the task of covering the casket to others, all eager to help in whatever way they could.

  A simple service, a simple good-bye, a simple grave for a man who had been not only the patriarch of the Sanders clan, but an icon to all who knew him. A fixture of many years in the community who would long be missed, and never, ever forgotten.

  The Old Man had moved on.

  -

  Clayton walked home with Lainie gripping his arm, sobbing quietly in her own grief. Leon had been one of the few people who had ever treated her kindly or well, and losing him was like having her heart torn out. Clay wrapped his free hand around her arm, rubbing small circles on her arm as they walked.

  “God, I will miss him,” she managed to choke out through her tears. “I always thought he'd live forever, you know?”

  “I think I did, too,” Clay nodded. “He was always threatening to die and leave me running things,” he gave a small laugh. “I never took it that seriously, really. But he knew better, even if we didn't.”

  “He was always a mess,” she laid her head on his shoulder.

  “So he was,” Clay agreed. “I hope he gets to see my grandmother, now.”

  “What was she...” Lainie started to ask but trailed off as she realized Clay couldn't answer her.

  “I never met her,” Clay replied almost wistfully. “Leon raised Gordon by himself from the time he was a boy. Dad can barely remember her, either.”

  “I'm sorry,” Lainie hugged him tighter.

  “Not to worry,” he patted her arm again. “It's just one of those things you can't do anything about. I was more fortunate than my own father, in having my mother with me as I grew up.” He stopped at that point rather than bring up any of the misfortunes his relationship with his mother had endured in recent weeks.

  “It will get better,” Lainie tried to reassure him.

  “Of course,” he lied, smiling. He didn't believe it, but he could be wrong and, well, at least this once his being wrong would be okay.

  -

  “I can't believe he's gone,” Alicia said softly as Ronny helped her into the house. Her pregnancy was at the stage where it was getting harder for her to get around.

  “I've thought that all day,” Ronny agreed. “He was a fixture. A solid point in time around here.”

  “He was,” she nodded, staggering a little as she got inside. Ronny helped her settle in a comfortable chair, lifting her feet onto an ottoman.

  “Thank you, husband,” she smiled at him. He beamed down at her.

  “I'm at your service, wife,” he laughed softly. He removed her shoes then and began to rub her feet.

  “Oh, you're definitely hired,” Alicia groaned. “Pay raise, benefits, the whole shebang.”

  “You haven't even seen my resume!” Ronny laughed, thumbs bearing down in the ball of her right foot.

  “I'll take your word for it!” she groaned out. “That feels wonderful,” she almost gasped. “Thank you.”

  “You're very, very welcome,” he promised.

  -

  “Gordon, are you alright?” Angela asked as Gordon sat down a little heavier than usual in his recliner.

  “I guess,” he replied tiredly. “That's all I can do right now,” he admitted.

  “I understand,” Angela patted his shoulder. Her own parents had been gone for over a decade. She had been through this before.

  “Here,” she handed him a glass of ice water. “This will help. It's hot out. You need to stay hydrated.” He took the glass without comment, drinking about half of it right away.

  “I'm so sorry, Gordon,” Angela consoled quietly. “That you have to go through this.”

  “Dying is a part of living, Leon always said,” Gordon's reply was simple. “He said it when Jerry died and again when mamma passed. Said it when we lost Robby. It seemed for a while like all we could do was lose people,” he snorted in dark humor.

  “He never wavered, though,” Gordon continued after a brief pause. “Not once. I'm sure that mentally he had his doubts and fears, of course. But never once did he allow me to see them. Or anyone else for that matter. He rolled his sleeves up and carried right on. I can't imagine how hard that was for him,” Gordon shook his head slowly. “He loved my mother more than he loved his own life, Ange. I didn't have to hear him say it to know he'd have switched places with her in a heartbeat. Her or either one of my brothers, for that matter.”

  “We're not allowed to know when our time is,” Angela had knelt beside Gordon's chair and now softly swept the hair from his face. “We can only live for that time.”

  “I know,” Gordon nodded. “He did, too. He may have wanted to die and try to join her, but he never said it in front of me. Not when I was a kid, anyway. Nor as an adult that I can recall. He may have, but I don't remember it. For all his orneriness, he was always a good parent, and a good grandparent. We were all fortunate to have him,” Gordon sighed a bit, finishing his water. He set the glass on the table beside him and leaned his head back, eyes closing.

  “I am so tired,” he admitted.

  “Then rest, Gordon,” Angela told him quietly. “Just sit here,” she carefully raised the foot rest of the chair, “and rest. There's nothing that needs done today that won't wait a little while.” She climbed to her feet, noting it wasn't as easy as it had been just a year ago, and started for the kitchen to refill his water glass.

  “Whatever you need, I'll be here.”

  -

  “I'm sorry,” Patricia told her husband as they changed from their 'go to meeting' clothes to everyday wear.

  “For what?” Robert asked, drawn from his own introspection by her statement.

  “I had just examined him,” Patricia noted. “I missed whatever it was that did this.”

  “Pat, that ain't your fault,” Robert said at once, turning to his wife. “You kept him alive a lot longer than he would have had without you. Think about that rather than thinking you missed something.”

  “That's hard to do,” Patricia admitted, wiping a tear from her face.

  “It's hard for you to have to be the doctor for your family members,” Robert hugged her t
o him gently. “There's a reason why it's normally not done.”

  “I should have seen it,” her voice was muffled as she spoke into his chest.

  “Pat, that's enough,” he let his voice harden just a bit. “The Old Man was at least eighty-seven, and lived as he damned well pleased, consequences be damned. We'll all be fortunate to make it as far as he did, even with cleaner living. Instead of condemning yourself for not saving him this time, how about you remember how many times you've saved him so that he could get to this point. How about that.”

  Sobbing now, all Patricia could do was nod as Robert continued to embrace her. He gently steered her toward their bed, lying down with her to let her rest and hopefully sleep. She was exhausted and he could see it even if she couldn't. For months she had been the primary care giver for the farm and the area around them, forced time and again to dispense care that was above her level of training or comfort.

  Now there was a doctor on the farm, and a surgeon at that. She could handle things for a day or so and give Patricia time to recover.

  By the time Robert had thought through that, Patricia was asleep.

  -

  Gordy had changed and was sitting outside, listening to the quiet. It had been a while since it had been quiet on this farm.

  “Hey,” he felt someone settle in beside him and turned to look at Samantha Walters, her small frame leaning into his much larger one.

  “Hey, yourself,” he raised an arm for her to slide under, allowing her to hug up to him.

  “How are you doing, Gordy?”

  “I'm fine,” he promised. “Just sitting here remembering stuff. The Old Man was part of the ranch. It'll seem odd with him gone.”

  “I know,” was all she said. Before they could say more, Abigail joined them, sitting down on the other side of her brother.

  “I can't believe he's gone,” Abby sighed softly. “I always thought of the Old Man as made of iron. Figured he'd be here long after we were all gone,” she almost laughed but couldn't quite manage it.

  “This won't be the last time we have to do this,” Gordy said gently and both women looked at him.

  “We've been extraordinarily lucky, so far,” he told them both. “That can't last. With as much turmoil as there is in this area, hell in any area, there's no way we don't have to continue fighting, and we won't keep being so lucky as we have been so far. So, don't kid yourself into thinking this won't happen again. It will.”

  “You suck at pep talks, little brother,” Abby finally found her voice. “I mean really. Good thing you weren't thinking of being a coach or something after college.” All three laughed at her pronouncement and Gordy hugged her, a rare show of affection between the two.

  “I'm just pointing out the obvious,” he continued a moment later. “Ask Clay or Jose or any of the others. I bet they'll say something similar. We've been lucky, but luck is a commodity and sooner or later you run out of it. We've been spending it pretty hard of late.”

  “When did you turn into a philosopher?” Abby demanded.

  “First time I killed a man,” Gordy shrugged lightly. “First time I killed a man and realized that one second later and he would have killed me.”

  Neither young woman knew a reply for that and didn't try to offer one.

  -

  “We knew it would happen,” Leon the Younger said softly to his sister.

  “That is true,” Leanne nodded, tear tracks evident on her face. “Why would we think it would happen one day, but just not today?” she asked aloud.

  “Just ignoring the facts of life, I suppose,” her brother shrugged. “It's always supposed to be later. Not now.”

  “I'll really miss him,” Leanne cried softly. “I'll miss him teasing us. Being there for us. I'll miss being his great-granddaughter,” she sniffed.

  “You'll always be his great-granddaughter,” Leon reminded her. “And wherever he is now, he's still proud of us,” he hugged her tightly and she returned it, sobbing into his shoulder. Leon didn't sob, but tears ran freely down his face into his sister's hair.

  “Good-bye, Old Man,” he whispered too softly for her to hear. “I hope wherever you are, you're happy.”

  -

  “Bad business about the Old Man,” Mitchell Nolan remarked as he sat out front of Building Two with Jose Juarez.

  “Circle of life, mano,” Jose replied softly. “Where he lies, we too must lie someday.”

  “Yeah,” Mitchell poked the ground with a stick. “Ever regret getting together with Martina?”

  “What?” Jose looked at him.

  “Not like that,” Mitchell waved off the unspoken question in his friend's eyes and attitude. “I mean, you know, regret having someone that you'd be leaving behind... you know,” he waved his arms as a finish, as if actually saying it would bring it about.

  “No,” Jose replied. “No, I do not. I will regret the day I am forced to leave her, but not that I brought her with me. It was not supposed to be this way,” he reminded his comrade. “Remember? We would be the turtle. Leave our shell only when provoked.”

  “Yes, and that's been a marvelous plan, so far,” Mitchell snorted loudly. “I mean, it's hard to see how it could have been different, but... still. It sucks.”

  “So it does,” Jose nodded. “But for whatever time I have with Martina, I am grateful,” he added.

  “Yeah,” Mitchell was looking across the road, though what he was seeing was anyone's guess. “Yeah, I don't regret it, either. Beverly... without a doubt, she's the best thing ever to happen to me, Poncho. Ever,” he added firmly.

  “The others have said the same,” Jose agreed. “Everyone has noticed the change in you for the better, amigo. All are happy for you. For both of you. She is a strong and good woman. Just what you need to keep you in line.”

  “Oh, thanks,” Mitchell's sarcasm was thick. “And here I thought you meant all that soft shoe horseshit. What a friend we have in Jose,” he sang.

  “That isn't how that song goes,” Jose laughed out loud. “I am glad you have her, my friend. She is a blessing for you. One you richly deserve.”

  “Thanks, brother.”

  -

  “This place has lost a character today,” Beverly Jackson sighed as she and Martina Sanchez sat at the kitchen table, tea in hand. “That Old Man was something you don't much see anymore.”

  “So he was,” Martina nodded. “Reminded me of my own grandfather in some ways. Irascible, yet generous to a fault. Stubborn, and yet gentle to others. Greedy at times, yet always there with a helping hand. His kind are leaving his world, and they are not being replaced, I fear.”

  “No, I'd say not,” Beverly agreed. “At least for the most part. There are a few around here that might well be like him some day, perhaps.”

  “One, perhaps two of them will maybe make it that far,” Martina said simply. “No more. Not with the lives they lead. One can defy the odds for a season, even many seasons, but the bill comes due, Beverly. You can only walk through the raindrops for so long before the water hits you.”

  Beverly didn't reply to that other than to hum something that could have been an agreement or an objection either one. Martina was sometimes prone to fatalistic statements such as the one she'd just made, and Beverly tried to make allowances for them, but... she really didn't want to hear them when they concerned Mitchell or any of his friends.

  She had never intended to become so attached to the former soldier, but in doing so found herself falling for him completely. Without being vain, Beverly knew she was attractive and that she drew men's attention. But she was also a widow with a young son. Most men discovered that and decided that they hadn't wanted in her pants quite that badly. That suited her just fine. Any man who saw her son as an impediment wasn't a man she intended to dally with in the first place. Period.

  The first time Mitchell had asked her out, he had arrived at the same time her babysitter had. She had never mentioned to him that she was a mother, as it had never come up. When Mitc
hell found out she had a son, he had paid off the sitter and sent her home, insisting that JJ accompany them on their movie and dinner date. She knew right then that Mitchell Nolan was an exception to the rule. It wasn't much longer until she had decided that he was the one for her.

  That had almost ended when he had broke down and explained 'everything'. The late calls, the hushed conversations. Had she been less sure of the kind of man he was, she would have assumed he was talking to another woman.

  The truth had been much, much worse.

  She had panicked for a good day, freaking out over the impossible story he had told her. She had been sorely tempted to recommend he be committed for temporary observation, and had she actually been any less sure of him, she would have. Instead, she allowed him, finally, to explain. In detail. By the time he was finished, she realized that instead of panicked or angry, she was grateful. He had told her all this because he wanted her and JJ to be safe when the time came. And the best way for him to ensure her safety and that of her son was to include them in his own preparations.

  He had spent an incredible amount of money on the two of them, buying clothing, supplies and equipment for them and ensuring their place in the 'convoy' when the time arrived. Thanks to him, she and JJ were in much, much better shape than they she would have had any right to be, otherwise. She shuddered to think how things would have been in Houston nowadays, considering how bad they had been in a small place such as Peabody. She was certain that she would have fared poorly once it was determined that 'normal' wasn't returning.

  Instead, she was in a good place, surrounding by people who would help keep her and her son as safe as possible. An added bonus was that JJ, ever a 'city kid', was given a golden opportunity to learn of rural life from people who knew what had to be done and didn't mind teaching him. When he reached manhood, he'd be more than able to care for himself and his loved ones.

  She owed all that and so very much more to Mitchell Nolan. For those reasons and so many more, she loved him without question or reservation.

 

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