Love's Lingering Doubts (Love's Texas Homecoming Boo 1; First Street Church #9)

by Sharon Hughson

  “You should have asked him to tutor you.” Tess giggled as she nudged him with her shoulder.

  What would she think if he admitted the truth? That he’d copied Drew’s method of brothering?

  “He was KIA in Afghanistan seven years ago.”

  Tess gasped.

  Bailey frowned over his shoulder at her. Her bright blue eyes filled with tears and her hand covered her mouth. Thank the Lord she had been too young to remember the hell that hardened his heart.

  “I’m heading to the pharmacy for those new meds the nurse prescribed. You need anything?”

  Bailey shook his head and rolled the dog against his chest. He’d take her in the house, see if she could hobble around. If nothing else, he could leave her bed in Fritz’s room.

  The stereo blared when Tess started her little Kia. After he hip-checked the truck door, Bailey nodded to his sister, who was singing along with the radio as she backed around to head for the road.

  He’d missed his sister’s zest for life while she was away.

  Please, God, don’t let Dad’s death destroy that.

  Praying as if God would answer? They hadn’t been on speaking terms since his mother’s death.

  Inside, he set Poppet on the floor. She whimpered and wobbled to her feet but managed to hobble to her dish and give him a gloomy look since there wasn’t any food.

  Normal behavior.

  He grabbed a cup of coffee and a muffin Tess baked yesterday, another thing he appreciated about his sister. He could cook a passable meal, but baking seemed like too much effort.

  He elbowed his dad’s bedroom door open. The gray head turned toward him, haloed by the lamp on the bedside table. The hospital bed raised Fritz into sitting position, and his hefty Bible lay open across his lap.

  Some things never changed.

  “Morning.” Fritz’s voice was rough but louder than it had been the previous night.

  Bailey sat in the armchair at the side of the bed. The worn cushions embraced him. Tess’s muffin melted on his tongue, and something like peace draped itself over his shoulders.

  “How’s the ranch?”

  “The cows busted out of the east pasture, and Poppet stepped in a gopher hole.”

  Fritz’s gray eyes blinked, and his hand petted the open Bible. “Your sister is talking nonstop about Travers Guest Ranch.” His lips twitched into a smile, brightening the pasty pallor of his skin.

  “It’s going to take time to get this place fixed up, but Herman Wells has promised to help me.”

  Bailey watched his dad’s face for signs of the melancholy that marked the years between his wife’s death and now.

  “I thought you planned to head back to the city, son.”

  Bailey polished off the muffin and sipped his coffee. In the light of Tess’s excitement, his plans didn’t matter. Once Dad was gone, she was all he had in the world.

  “You need to follow your heart.” His dad stroked the gold band on his ring finger.

  Follow his heart? What did that even mean? Since the day he’d been dumped like yesterday’s lunch, he had worked hard to be useful. If people relied on him, maybe they would keep him around. But nothing he did ever kept them from leaving.

  “This family is my heart, Dad.” He ignored the memory of sage green eyes and the magnetic pull they had on him.

  “Not family like Delores. She would steal the ranch.”

  Bailey stiffened. Why was his dad bringing up his sister? Could the woman come and take the ranch?

  “She’s gone.” His dad’s voice faded, and his eyes closed.

  Did that mean the woman was dead? The muffin congealed to an ache in his gut.

  A withered hand rose off the sheets. “You are my son. Tess is my daughter. I’ve taken care of things.” His father’s voice cracked on the last word.

  A pang tugged at Bailey’s chest. If his dad said it was taken care of, he should trust him. Maybe there was a will somewhere.

  He opened his mouth to ask about it, but Fritz’s eyes were closed. His wrinkled fingers clenched the Bible’s bulk. After a long blink, he rolled his head toward Bailey.

  “I want you to have my Bible.” He lifted the book, but it plopped back on his lap.

  Bailey nearly choked on his next breath. This strong man he’d idolized for two decades couldn’t lift a book. Another pang of loss spiked through his chest.

  Bailey settled his palm on the book’s cover. “You keep it for now.”

  His father licked his lips. “Everything you need is in here, son.” His voice was a mere rasp. “Everything.”

  Bailey nodded. Fritz and MaryAnn had lived out the Bible and taught their children its principles. But it didn’t save them from death.

  With the thickness in his throat and the prickling burn behind his eyeballs, he didn’t trust himself to speak. Pain, like someone yanking his intestines out, wrenched through him. He wasn’t strong, but he could pretend.

  The old man’s eyes drifted shut, fluttering lids struggling against the effects of his pain medication.

  Bailey reached toward the Bible. “Want me to read to you?”

  “Later.” He swallowed, and his next words were a mere whisper. “Get to work.”

  As Bailey stood, Poppet hobbled into the room. When he glanced her way, the dog whined. It almost made him smile.

  He scratched her head, staring at the man he’d called father.

  The impending goodbye echoed through his heart.

  2

  The blue truck loomed large in the driveway. Great. Her father hadn’t left for work.

  Jaz ducked around the side of the ranch-style home located north of Sweet Grove, about ten minutes closer to the hospital in Rosewood where her dad had worked forever. She tiptoed across the garage, hoping to sneak through the laundry room and into her bedroom.

  One conversation with her father a day had to be enough torture. Right, God?

  After kicking her dusty sneakers off in the laundry room, she cracked open the door to the hallway. With muffled footfalls, she slunk down the hall to the room her mother hadn’t changed since Jaz left for college.

  Her hand rested on the doorknob to her room when she heard her dad say, “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  The husky tone of his voice made her throat close. He would never say those words to her. She doubted any man would.

  “I’m the luckiest woman.” Whatever else her mother said was concealed by the bark of her miniature boxer.

  Jaz skipped into her room, closing the door before the energetic pooch could out her completely.

  If only she could slam the door on the memories.

  But the tone of her father’s voice reminded her of him—Captain Cutthroat. After what he’d done, she refused to think of him in other terms.

  In the same raspy tone of voice, he’d told her, “You make softball look sexy.” But he hadn’t meant it.

  The courtroom voice he used a year later proved that. “You wouldn’t fit in the Virginia lifestyle.”

  Jaz twisted the nozzle on the shower as hot as it would go. The water pounded her face, cooling as it sluiced down her athletic body. No, she wasn’t a slender, beauty queen like her mother, but she wasn’t an ugly cow either.

  And she could fit it in anywhere. Couldn’t she?

  As an older memory pushed its way to the surface, Jaz scrubbed her face, hair, and body. This time it was her father’s square face and hazel eyes glaring at her. She could almost feel his fingers on her bicep. To banish the thoughts, she began a mental checklist for the day. Would getting a job help her find a sense of direction? Without the driving purpose of the past six years, she needed something.

  A few minutes later, dressed in jeans and a flowing blouse, Jaz poured a cup of coffee and popped it into the microwave. Her mother called from her office across the family room.

  Jaz shuffled into the room. Several ledgers lay open across the desk. Pencils stuck up from a ceramic fireman’s boot. Geraldine Rolle
glanced over the top of emerald green reading glasses, and her face creased with a smile.

  A hard place in Jaz’s chest melted. A mother’s love could do that.

  “I’ll be at the library perfecting my resume and submitting online applications.”

  Her mother shook her head. “What has this world come to? Will someone hire you without ever meeting you, too?”

  “I’m sure they’ll set up at least a phone interview.”

  The microwave beeped.

  “Dinner’s at six.”

  The knot returned to Jaz’s stomach. She couldn’t eat at the same table as her father. But the look of hope on her mother’s face kept her from saying anything.

  “I’ll let you know.”

  Jaz returned to the kitchen and peeled a hard-boiled egg and an orange. She stuffed the food into her messenger bag and stalked out of the house.

  Her car coughed and heaved, but eventually started. The thing needed to be replaced, but it was her biggest tangible connection to Drew. Dad had been too busy with a work convention—surprise—so Drew had driven down from Fort Benning to look at cars with her. They’d had a great time, and when she’d pleaded for the shiny red Subaru, he’d negotiated the best price he could.

  Eight years ago. And it hadn’t been on the new car lot when they’d found it. She’d racked up more than 100,000 miles on the car, and it deserved to be put out of its misery.

  But she couldn’t do it.

  The brick Sweet Grove Library shared a parking lot with the police station. Across Third Street from the elementary school, it was a one-stop book haven for the education community, too. Jaz planned to spend her time on the public computers searching for jobs and accessing her Google Docs and email.

  By the time her stomach gnawed her backbone, Jaz had updated a professional resume and applied at several Austin law firms and county courthouses. One military promise rang true. Her education, experience, and training as a paralegal with the Judge Advocate General’s Office translated into a lucrative civilian career.

  When she stepped outside, sunshine reminded her that Texas springtime wasn’t meant for denim. Her blouse glued itself to her back before she reached First Street.

  “Jazlyn!”

  Her eyebrows shot up as she turned. A lanky woman with a pony-tail bouncing across her shoulders beelined for her. Behind her, the white steeple of First Street Church was visible.

  Elise Nelsen had been a couple years behind Jaz in high school, but they had been in the softball program together. Now she was the youth pastor at First Street Church and the coach of the high school softball team.

  Jaz smiled and waved, slowing to allow her to catch up.

  “I saw you at church yesterday. Glad to have you back in town.”

  Jaz appreciated that Elise made no mention of Jaz’s slight to her parents by attending a different church than they did. Getting back on speaking terms with God had a better chance of happening if her dad’s angry aura wasn’t stifling the prospect.

  “Where you headed?” Elise’s easy grin slid in place.

  “To grab something at the market.” She paused at the curb to check for traffic. There wasn’t any.

  “Kristina’s on shift at Mabel’s.”

  “Finding a job is more important than Mabel’s pie.”

  “Blasphemy!” Elise laughed, and they crossed the street together.

  The youth pastor followed her into the market, and she waved to the cashier.

  Jaz had barely picked up a basket near the door before Elise said, “I need help with the softball team.”

  A carnival ride started in Jaz’s stomach. For many years, softball had been everything to her.

  Elise gabbed about the poor budget while Jaz picked up a couple apples, a small jar of chunky peanut butter, and two liter-sized bottles of cold water. As soon as she set her purchases on the counter, Elise grabbed her hands.

  “Our batting stinks to high heaven. Will you help us?”

  Jaz glanced between the hands clutching hers and the serious brown eyes. “I might only be here a couple of weeks.”

  “Any time you could spare would help. And you’d get to swing the bat every day.”

  Her fingers itched at the thought, and a tingle beneath her shoulder blades gushed an emotional waterfall into her stomach. It was the most emotion she’d felt since the day she faced off with the man who supposedly loved her. Jaz powered off that thought.

  “I’ve never coached.”

  While the cashier rang up her purchases, Elise explained the routine. “Your name dominates the records board,” she added. “You’re like a celebrity to the girls.”

  Celebrity status for hitting a softball? Was that all she had to show for her life?

  “You don’t have to attend games or make any long-term commitments. It’s not a paying position.”

  By this time, they were back outside. A breeze ruffled the plastic bag in her hand. Jaz cracked open a bottle of water, chugging half of it.

  Every inch of Elise pleaded. “My assistant coach knows pitching, and I can’t focus on hitting and defensive fielding at the same time. But if you were there…”

  What else did Jaz have going on? It wasn’t like she was in a hurry to head home when the library closed. Hadn’t she been looking for an excuse not to join in family meals?

  “Deets.”

  Elise threw her arms around Jaz, crushing the bag of apples against her stomach. “Four to six at the high school softball field.” She grinned. “You remember where it is, right?”

  “Unless they moved it.”

  “Nothing moves in Sweet Grove.”

  Exactly why Jazlyn needed to find a job, load up the Drew memorabilia her mom promised to give her, and put Sweet Grove in her rear-view mirror.

  * * *

  The caterwauling in his stomach wouldn’t be ignored. Bailey chalked it up to having nothing but a muffin to eat that morning. He steered the Chevy into the lot behind Mabel’s. Maybe he could ease his worries and fill his belly at the same time.

  Bailey tossed his hat on the seat and snagged a water bottle. His gut protested his forgotten lunch all the way to the back door.

  He pushed through the employee entrance and ducked into the kitchen.

  Jeffrey Berkley manned a grill with one hand and whipped something in a bowl with the other. The relaxed set of his shoulders announced to the world that he’d found his sweet spot.

  “One special.” A waitress snapped a slip onto the old-fashioned order turnstile. Her gaze swung to Bailey. “You got company.”

  Jeffrey sidestepped along the counter, flipping something on the grill. He glanced backward, and white teeth flashed in his dark face. “B.T. Sneaking in again?”

  “I got a question, and you’re the smartest guy I know.”

  Jeffrey laughed. “You don’t get out much.”

  While Jeffrey slapped together a special and finished his other order, Bailey leaned against the dish station. “I’m hungry too.”

  Jeffrey barked out, “Order up.”

  Before Bailey could say anything, his friend flipped a second corned beef sandwich onto a plate. With an expert twist of his wrist, he whipped a basket from the deep fryer, flipped fries into a metal pan, and sprinkled a seasoning blend over them. After filling the other half of the plate with the fries, Jeffrey slapped it onto the cutting block near Bailey’s hip. His mouth watered.

  “Eat up.”

  Bailey washed his hands at the sink, grimacing as the water scalded through his callouses. He gobbled half the sandwich and was munching fries when he remembered his other purpose. He swigged the rest of his water, swishing it around his mouth before swallowing.

  He glanced toward Jeffrey, who was pouring yellow batter into a pan. “What do you know about inheritance laws?”

  “Law?” Jeffrey shook the pan and tapped it on the counter. “Not much.”

  As Bailey reached for the other half of the sandwich, his front pocket vibrated. He dug out the phone
and read a message from his sister.

  Plans for the guest rooms?

  Bailey grimaced. They wouldn’t need the plans he’d labored over if an actual blood relation showed up and claimed the ranch. He tapped out a reply.

  After his friend tucked the pan into the oven, he gave Bailey his full attention. “Doesn’t your dad have a will?”

  “Not that I’ve been able to find.”

  Jeffrey’s hand clamped onto Bailey’s shoulder. “Glad Tess made it home to have some time with him.”

  Bailey agreed. “Thing is, he mumbled something about his sister.” Bailey recoiled at the thought of a sister betraying her brother. “She stole his parent’s ranch, and I’m afraid she might show up and do the same thing here.”

  Jeffrey frowned. “I don’t know how to help you.”

  While Jeffrey typed a message on his phone, Bailey scarfed the rest of the meal. He was still munching on fries when Jeffrey tucked his phone away.

  “Elise knows someone. She says you could stop by the library now and ask about it.” Jeffrey reached for the plate. “Finished?”

  Bailey nodded, wiping his hands down the back of his jeans. A glance at the phone as he tucked it back in his pocket showed he still had thirty minutes until he needed to be at the high school. And the library was on the way.

  “What do I owe you?” His hand rested against his wallet.

  Jeffrey waved his hand. “Lunch rush is over and the special would have went to waste.”

  “Thanks, man.” They bumped fists and Bailey headed out.

  Clouds scudded across the blue sky, shading him from the sun’s rays. He breathed deeply of the cooler air before hopping back in his not-so-cool truck and driving the few blocks down First and onto Birch.

  Cool air stole his breath as he pushed into the library. At her post behind the counter, Sally Scott looked up, and her sour expression transformed.

  Hat in hand, he scanned the library. Where was this guy who knew about the law?

  A row of computers sat along the back wall, and Bailey made a wide circuit around the circulation counter, raising his hand in greeting when Sally stepped his way. He wove through the section of nonfiction books and spotted a woman hunched over a computer. The only other people in the place were some mothers and young children in the back.