Count On Me: Baytown Boys

by Maryann Jordan

  Looking to the side, he saw Joseph’s eyes drop to Scott’s blade prosthesis. “I’ll come in to see you once I get this race over with. I want something new around my leg near the amputation, and would like to get some ideas from you.” Joseph silently nodded, then continued to run.

  As they ran around the track, he was soon surrounded by his group of friends, laughing and joking as they paced themselves. Many were married or engaged, and from their conversations, he discerned that impending fatherhood was first and foremost on their minds.

  As the group slowly disbanded, he continued to run several more laps, now alone. Not one to wallow in self-pity, he had already faced the realization that it would take a very special woman to see past his amputation. In the last several years, he had found that some women’s interest in him waned almost immediately when they discovered that he was missing part of his leg. A few had even sworn that it would not make a difference until they were in the middle of getting hot and heavy but then could not get past the stump. Recently, he had not even attempted dating, deciding that his hand on his cock was going to have to make do until he could find the right woman.

  As he slowed down and made his way to his SUV, the vision of Lizzie came to mind. She was beautiful, but it was obvious she had no idea of her appeal. She was strong, and yet, her vulnerability was not hidden.

  Sighing as he sat down on the back of his opened SUV, he pulled off the carbon-fiber c-blade with a suction suspension socket. It had taken a lot of trial and error to find the proper fit, but now that he was used to running with the prosthetic, he appreciated the engineering. Twisting around, he grabbed his walking prosthesis, sliding on the variety of socks and sleeves. As he drove home to shower, Lizzie stayed on his mind, and he wished that he had made a more favorable impression on her.

  Walking into his rental, he grinned at the enthusiastic greeting he gained from his dog. Bending, he gave Rufus a good rub down. Opening the back door, he threw a ball into the small yard, laughing as his three-legged dog bounded out of the house and across the grass, snagging the bright yellow ball in his mouth. Trotting back, he dropped it at Scott’s feet, who continued to throw it several more times before they finally went back into the kitchen.

  After pouring kibble into Rufus’ dish, Scott headed to his shower. With the use of a shower chair so that he did not have to maintain his balance on the slippery tile, he quickly scrubbed off the sweat. With the aid of his crutch, he made his way back into the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he pulled on his boxers before he rubbed unscented powder over his residual limb. Gliding the liner on next, he then added several socks to make this fit comfortable. Standing, he stepped into his below the knee prosthesis and pressed down until he heard it locked into place. Sitting again, he slid his socked feet into his dress shoes before moving to his closet and choosing a shirt and tie to go with his dark pants.

  Letting Rufus out once again to do his business, he finally headed to his office. It was time to determine how he could help Lizzie—and, hopefully, get to know her better.

  7

  A week had passed since Papa Beau’s funeral, and Lizzie wondered when she would be able to wake up and face the day with something besides a grimace at what needed to be done without her beloved grandfather around.

  Forcing her body to go through the motions, she made it through her early morning chores, then pushed herself to take a shower and find something appropriate to wear. Her grandfather’s lawyer had asked her to come by, and he would go over Beau’s will with her. Standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom, she stared at her reflection. Her hair was brushed and pulled back with a headband. She was wearing a pair of dark slacks with a blue blouse. Boring, but acceptable. She lifted her gaze but hated seeing the haunted look in her eyes, so she quickly turned away.

  Grabbing her purse, she headed out to Beau’s old truck. It wheezed to life as she crossed her fingers over the steering wheel. She hoped she would not see anyone in town she knew, not wanting to make conversation. She had nothing new to say. Yes, I’m fine. Yes, I miss him, too. Yes, I’ll call if I need anything. Glad to find a parking place outside the lawyer’s office, she executed a horrible parallel parking job. Climbing from the truck, she glanced down to brush a few stray strands of straw from her pants. That’s what happens when you drive in a farm truck.

  Looking at the old brick-front office, she pulled on the door and stepped in, nodding politely toward the receptionist. Mrs. Grassley had been working with the lawyer for as long as she could remember.

  “My dear, Lizzie, I’m so sorry about your grandfather,” the receptionist said, standing from her desk and offering her hand. Clutching it for a moment, she said, “Follow me. Mr. Barker is ready for you.”

  Lizzie was grateful that Mrs. Grassley had not gone on and on about her grandfather but assumed that the elderly receptionist had watched many grieving relatives move through the lobby toward the lawyer’s office. Obediently following, she was ushered into the office and smiled slightly toward Preston Barker, Beau’s longtime friend and lawyer.

  He stood and hurried around his desk toward her, his hand extended in greeting. “Lizzie, I know how difficult this is for you. I’m so glad you could come in today.” He led her toward a comfortably-worn leather chair and continued, “I loved Beau dearly. I miss him so very much.”

  With her hand warmly clasped in his, she allowed his words to move through her, fully understanding that she was not the only one grieving. Her slight smile was sincere as she said, “I know what good friends the two of you were. I’m glad you were in his life.”

  He sat down at his desk again, glancing at the folder of papers in front of him. He was dressed as she had always seen him, a dark suit with a white shirt and dark tie. His white hair was thin on top, and the lines on his face were deeper than she had remembered. She looked down at her hands in her lap, remembering Papa Beau claiming, “Never trusted lawyers too much, except my old friend Preston. He’s about the best friend I ever had.”

  The only sound was the tick of the old clock on the wall, and she waited for him to speak. He looked up and glanced at the clock, saying, “We only have one other person that we’re waiting for, and he—”

  Mrs. Grassley appeared in the door and said, “Right this way, Mr. Redding.”

  Lizzie’s head swung around toward the door where she watched in shock as Scott walked into the office. He smiled at Mr. Barker before turning his attention to her.

  “Lizzie,” Preston said, standing from behind his desk, “I’ve asked Mr. Redding to be here. It was your grandfather’s wish that he be present at the reading of the will.”

  Saying nothing, her heart began to pound with nerves. Did Papa Beau not trust me with the farm? Trying to force her expression to calm, she offered what she was sure was more of a grimace than a smile.

  Preston nodded toward the other chair and said, “Scott, please take a seat.” Turning his attention back to Lizzie, he said, “My dear, let me do the reading, and then I think everything will be clear.”

  Nervous, she sat, her back ramrod-straight, her hands now clasped even tighter in her lap. Not trusting her voice to speak, she remained silent, staring toward Preston, refusing to look to the side.

  The lawyer shuffled a few papers around and then said, “I’m sure it’s no surprise that everything now belongs to you, Lizzie. He knew that your mother was taken care of since she married and so there was no money left for her. What makes it all better for you... on advice from Scott, Beau had already placed your name on his accounts and the farm deed so that you won’t have to pay inheritance taxes. This means the land, the house, the animals, and all the possessions contained on the land or in the house are yours. He had a checking account and savings account at the Baytown Bank, and a small trust fund for you as well.”

  She was not surprised that her grandfather had left everything to her, but the news that Scott had saved her a great deal of money in taxes—along with his presence in the room
—made her feel unbalanced. Uncertain why Papa Beau wanted him there, she remained perched on the edge of her seat, heart racing, palms sweating.

  Preston slid his glasses off of his face and, pulling out a handkerchief, began to clean the lens. Once again, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock. Uncertainty filled her, and she glanced to the side, observing Scott staring at her, a concerned look on his face. Just when she could take the suspense no longer, she opened her mouth to speak when Preston replaced his glasses back on his face and cleared his throat.

  “Of course,” he began, “your grandfather knew that there would be things that we hate to deal with but need to when someone passes. That’s why he asked for Mr. Redding to be here. He seemed to think that you would try to do things on your own, and he wanted to take that burden from you.”

  At those last words, Lizzie sucked in her lips tightly to quell the quivering while blinking back the tears. She swallowed deeply, afraid to speak for fear that her words were turned to sobs. She was glad to hear that the reason her grandfather wanted Scott present was because he could handle all the accounting for the farm. Blowing out a shaky breath, she nodded.

  Preston continued, “And your grandfather knew that times were changing, and you had some good ideas about what to do with the farm. He knew it wouldn’t survive trying the same old farm methods from his time or his father’s time.”

  She remembered her grandfather’s incredulity when she first wanted to buy goats and alpacas, but she’d showed him the research she had completed on how they would be able to use some of their pastureland for those animals and then use the fleece and milk to make products to sell. She had held her breath, wondering what his response was going to be, but Papa Beau had simply smiled and said, “I think you’ve got something there, girl.” Chuckling, he had added, “I sure would like to have seen my daddy’s face at the idea of one of them alpacas in his fields.” As the memory moved through her mind, she focused her attention back on Preston as he began to shuffle papers on his desk again.

  Clearing his throat, Preston lifted his gaze toward her. “Beau also wanted to make sure you had someone who could help you with a good business plan. That was the other reason he wanted Scott here… not just for taxes but to work with you to make sure the farm was solvent.”

  At that, she blinked, her body jerking as though slapped. “He’s supposed to help me formulate my business plan?” She swung her head around to stare at Scott. “But you don’t know anything about farming! Or what I want to do!” Not giving either man a chance to speak, she jumped to her feet, looking down at Scott. “For all I know, you’re going to tell me to bow to the pressure of Luca Giordano and sell the farm just to make money off the land and then I’ll end up with nothing!”

  Scott stood quickly, his hands out, saying, “Lizzie, I would never tell you to sell. That’s your land and your heritage.”

  Preston hurried around his desk once again, his hands out toward her. “Lizzie, please, be calm. Beau was just looking out for your interests. He would never want you to sell the farm. That was why he knew that if he was not around to assist, he felt Scott was the perfect person to give you sound business advice.”

  Dropping her chin to her chest, she shook her head slowly back and forth, staring at her feet as the heavy weight on her chest pressed in deeper. Her voice barely a whisper, she said, “He thought so little of me? That I couldn’t do things on my own?”

  Preston placed his hands on her shoulders and gave a little squeeze as he leaned in close. His words, spoken steady and strong, said, “My dear, Beau would have done anything for you. You were the light of his life. He loved your ideas and was excited about what you wanted to do. He didn’t make this request because he didn’t think you couldn’t handle things. The only reason he wanted you to have Scott’s assistance is so you wouldn’t feel so alone. That terrified him, Lizzie… to think that you’d be alone.”

  He gave her shoulders a little shake, and she lifted her chin to stare into the watery eyes of her grandfather’s friend. “But I am alone,” she whispered. Holding his eyes, she nodded slightly, her voice barely audible now. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Barker.” Taking a step back, she turned and picked up her purse and walked out of the room, avoiding Scott’s gaze. She passed by Mrs. Grassley but said nothing as she walked out to the truck.

  She drove in silence, her mind in turmoil. Looking ahead, she saw The Diner, a popular restaurant in the county near the little town of Easton. The old-fashioned restaurant held many fond memories. As a girl, her grandfather would stop there on his way back from the feed store, and he would buy her a milkshake, complete with whipped cream and a cherry on top. She would happily slurp the sweet concoction while Papa Beau chatted with the owners, Joe and Mavis. Years later, she befriended one of the waitresses, Carrie, a single mom who worked long hours but always managed to have a smile and a friendly word.

  Without thinking, she jerked on the steering wheel and pulled into The Diner’s parking lot, suddenly filled with the desire for something familiar… something she had shared with Papa Beau. Glad that the breakfast crowd was over and the lunch crowd had not descended upon the popular restaurant, she pushed open the door, hearing the familiar bell announce a new customer.

  Carrie was behind the counter, her eyes hitting Lizzie at the same time that Joe and Mavis looked up from the back. Her breath caught in her throat as doubt slid through her, the acute loss of Papa Beau taking over. Carrie moved to her, her eyes warm as she pulled Lizzie into a hug.

  “Let’s get to the counter, sweetie.”

  With a jerky nod, she allowed Carrie to guide her over to the counter where she settled onto one of the old stools. She looked through the kitchen’s pass-through window and caught Joe’s eyes. He held her gaze for a long moment then lifted his chin in greeting. It was a simple movement, but she understood the unspoken words of condolence and found his silent gesture to be comforting. Offering him a slight smile, she nodded in return.

  “You look like you could use some coffee, darling,” Mavis said, coming up behind her, resting her hand on Lizzie’s back. “You also look like you could use some food.”

  “Do you feel like you can eat anything?” Carrie asked.

  She was about to deny their offer when the scent of bacon, fried potatoes, and scrambled eggs hit her, and she sighed. “Yeah, it smells really good. But… um… not too much.”

  While Mavis went to the kitchen, Carrie poured a cup of coffee and then settled on the stool next to her. “I didn’t want to hover at your grandfather’s funeral, but I’m glad you came in today. I was actually going to call you later. I wanted to see how you were doing and see if there was anything I could help you with. Of course, Jack has school during the day, but he would love to come help you on the farm in the afternoons.” Chuckling, she added, “He may only be eleven, but I know he’d be a good worker and would love being around animals.”

  Often preferring solitude, Lizzie found that she liked the idea of the irrepressible Jack helping on the farm occasionally. Nodding, she replied, “Let me get my head together about everything I need to do, and I’ll give you a call. Actually, I would love to have him help. The animals love company, and I’m not sure that I can give them my full attention right now.”

  Carrie slid her arm around Lizzie's shoulders and gave her a hug. “I want to ask how you’re doing, but that would be such a foolish question. But can I confess that I’m worried about you?”

  Tilting her head to the side, she repeated, “Worried?”

  “I know that you’ve always worked hard, throwing yourself into anything that Beau or the farm needed. But I’d really like you to come to one of the American Legion Auxiliary meetings with me sometime. I think it would be good for you to get out, even one night a month, and make some new friends.”

  She opened her mouth to refute Carrie's suggestion, but Carrie wasn’t finished.

  “I know about hard work, Lizzie. I know about working every momen
t that I could to make enough money so that Jack and I had a roof over our heads and food on the table. But, unlike your job, my job allowed me to be around good people here. I want that for you, too.”

  The sting of tears hit her eyes, and she wondered if that was going to continue to happen every time someone mentioned her grandfather or how they wanted to help her. Grabbing her napkin, she wiped her nose quickly but was saved from replying when the bell over the door sounded once again. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as Colt Hudson, the tall, powerfully-built sheriff strode in and without missing a beat gave Carrie a kiss, then turned to Lizzie and said, “Good to see you out and about. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let us know.”

  Her smile was sincere as she nodded her acknowledgment, then looked down at the plate that Mavis had set in front of her. It was not overflowing with food, for which she was grateful, hating to be wasteful. She nibbled the toast, forked in a few spoonfuls of the eggs and hashbrowns, and munched on a piece of crispy bacon. As she listened to Colt and Carrie’s joking conversation, she was so pleased that her friend was now married to a man like Colt. And, if she was honest with herself, she had to admit that she was a bit envious.

  Shaking away that last thought, she finished her breakfast and accepted another round of hugs before leaving. Pulling into the drive by the Weston Farm sign, she breathed a little easier. Papa Beau’s will, along with the knowledge that he liked her ideas for change, eased the weight off her chest slightly again.

  As she climbed from the car, she looked toward the pastures with the goats and alpacas and smiled. Then her gaze drifted to the fence row that always needed checking and repairing and the outbuildings and barn that needed to be kept up as well. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she sighed. Hurrying inside, she changed into her work clothes and headed back out. If Scott Redding was going to look over her ideas for the farm, he would find it in perfect order.