by Katie Powner
“Hannah’s away at school, as you know. She wants to be a music teacher.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah.” Frank rubbed his hands together. “We’re very proud. You know how Dorothy loves music. Still getting used to all the college expenses, though. And Seth graduates in May, so the church . . .”
Mitch’s stomach grumbled. Lunch was a long time ago, but food could wait. Something in Frank’s voice made him tense up. “The church what?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Frank waved a hand as if clearing smoke. “Just some changes they want to make.”
If it was nothing, Frank wouldn’t have mentioned it. “What changes?”
For a minute, Frank didn’t answer, and Mitch studied him, remembering what it had been like between them back before adulthood and families and church had gotten in the way. The hunting trips, the late-night talks about girls, the rescue missions to pick up friends too drunk to get themselves home. That would’ve been Mitch if not for Frank.
“There’s a handful of people calling for a pay cut,” Frank finally said. “When Seth leaves home. They figure Dorothy and I won’t need as much income once we’re empty nesters.”
Mitch grimaced. “You’re kidding.”
“It’s okay.” Frank suddenly looked very weary. “The church has always struggled to make ends meet. That’s just how it is. Decreasing my salary will help.”
“But they can’t do that.” Mitch could feel his blood warming. “It’s not fair. You aren’t getting paid that much as it is. How are you supposed to put two kids through college on less?”
“It’s not the church’s responsibility to put my kids through college. Why should they pay for that when most of them can’t send their own kids?”
“You’re not being reasonable.”
“I’m being realistic.” Frank looked at the floor. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Mitch struggled to keep his mouth shut. Frank had faithfully served the folks of Moose Creek Community Church for twenty years—twenty years!—without complaint. He’d married them, baptized them, taught them, prayed for them, and buried them. He’d helped them during harvest and made countless trips to Ponderosa, visiting them in the hospital. Or in jail. And this was how they would thank him?
“I can always pick up more hours at Take Your Best Shot.” Frank shook his head. “We all do what we have to do.”
Mitch crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I don’t like it.”
“I appreciate that.” Some of the spark returned to Frank’s eyes. “Now it’s your turn. How are you handling this thing with your mom? And having Bea back?”
“Just taking it one day at a time, I guess. Mom seemed much better yesterday.”
“And if she gets worse?”
Mitch hesitated. There’d been no official diagnosis yet, but from everything the doctors had said so far, there was no if. Only when. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“Do you think your dad can manage her okay by himself?”
He didn’t answer, but Frank had always been exceptionally good at reading his face.
“You’re worried,” he said.
Mitch nodded. “We got lucky this time. With Bea finding her like that. But what if . . . ?”
“That wasn’t luck, and you know it.”
“The weather’s only going to get worse from here. It’s only going to get colder and darker. How long can a person survive out in the elements when it’s twenty below?”
He hadn’t meant to say all that. He preferred to keep his fears to himself. But Frank had a way of drawing people out.
“Have you talked with your dad about moving her somewhere?”
Mitch’s shoulders slumped. “Not yet. But it needs to happen soon.”
“And what about Bea? She doing okay?”
“I don’t know. She’s not speaking to me much right now.”
Frank nodded knowingly. When his daughter, Hannah, was sixteen, she’d gone through a brief but intense rebellious phase. Ran away and everything. Mitch had never seen Frank so torn up.
Frank stood. “Well, I better go. I’ll be praying for you.”
Mitch walked him to the door. From anyone else, those words would feel trite. Condescending even. When Frank said them, though, he felt a small sense of relief, maybe because he knew Frank meant it. He spent hours in prayer. Mitch had caught him on his knees in his office more times than he could count.
“Thanks for coming by.”
Frank squeezed his shoulder. “Talk to you soon.”
Mitch closed the door after him and stood in the hallway for a moment, listening to the silence and remembering the time he’d shown Frank to the door and told him not to bother ever coming back. It had been his anger and grief talking—he knew that now. He only hoped Frank knew it then.
The tip of Bea’s nose was frozen, while the rest of her was surprisingly warm. Her coat, hat, and gloves, along with the brisk pace of their walk, were doing the trick. Beside her, Jeremy hummed a Mark Chesnutt tune.
“That’s an old one,” she said.
“I like the classic country station better than the other.”
She smiled, pleased. “Me too.”
They walked in silence for several minutes.
“Let me know when you want to head back,” Jeremy said.
Bea chuckled to herself. That was his nonconfrontational way of saying he was about done with this whole walking around town in the dark and cold thing.
“In a minute.”
She loved the peaceful feeling of Moose Creek tucking itself in for the night. All the Ponderosa commuters had made it home by now. Football and volleyball practices were over at the school. Families were finishing dinner and getting kids ready for bed. And that was it. There was nothing else going on.
“You think your grandma will be okay out on the ranch?” Jeremy’s words formed puffs of steam in the cold air.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m scared she’s going to end up in a nursing home somewhere.”
“She’s too young for a nursing home.”
“But it seems like there’s something really wrong. The things she said that day . . .”
“What do you mean?”
Things had been strained between her and Jeremy since Sunday, but she needed to talk to someone about Grandma June’s unsettling words.
“She kept talking about how she needed to find someone. How he must be wondering where she was. I asked if she meant Grandpa Rand, and she said yes, but I don’t think that was it.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not sure.”
Bea paused as they reached the end of Mule Deer Road and looked up. The stars were starting to come out, flickering into view one at a time as the sky darkened.
“I’ve never seen so many stars,” Jeremy said.
She’d missed them. The glare of the city lights had hidden all but the brightest stars and turned the blackness of night into a yellowish haze. Here, she could see every level of intensity, from the piercing light of a neighboring planet to the soft glow of the most distant star. The degrees of light gave the sky both dimension and depth. It reminded a person of how small they were in the grand scheme of things. And how big God was.
Bea stared at the great swirls of distant galaxies and thought of the snow swirling around her and grandma on the mountain. “She kept saying she would never forget.”
Jeremy stood close, his arm touching hers. “Forget what?”
“Her baby? I don’t know, it doesn’t make sense. I tried to get her to tell me about Miner McGee, and she said her baby would’ve liked that story.”
“Do you think she was confused about what year it was? Like her mind had taken her back to when your dad was born? And since there was no baby in her house, she could’ve thought something happened to him.”
“Maybe.”
“That could explain why she took off like that. She was just being a good mom.”
Bea shivered, the col
d catching up to her now that they had stopped walking. “What about saying she would never forget him? She sounded so sad.”
“It’s strange all right.” Jeremy lowered his chin so the high collar of his jacket covered his mouth. “Your dad never had any siblings?”
Bea shook her head. “Unless . . .”
“What?”
“I don’t know, maybe she lost a baby once. Like a miscarriage or something.” Her gloved hands found their way to her belly, and she swallowed hard. “A lot of women delivered their babies at home back then. Anything could’ve happened.”
“That would make sense.” His jacket muffled his words. “And it wouldn’t be surprising for her to fixate on a memory that traumatic. Maybe your dad knows something about it.”
“Maybe.”
“We could ask him. Or I could do a little digging online. It’s amazing what you can find out on the internet.”
“I’ve always wondered why my dad is an only child. Most people from my grandma’s generation had like a dozen kids, especially farming families.”
“You’re an only child.”
“I know, but that’s more common now. Back then . . .”
“I’ll do some research. See if I can find anything out.”
“Okay.” Bea drew in a slow, deep breath, then turned. Night had fallen in earnest. “We should head back.”
As they walked side by side, she felt there was more Jeremy wanted to say, but he remained quiet. Snow and gravel crunched under their boots, unusually loud in the stillness. The snow-covered mountain glowed in the moonlight. As they approached a rugged old shiplap house, Bea slowed her pace.
“Look at that.” She jerked her chin at the house.
“Isn’t that your old teacher?”
“Yep.”
“And the old guy from the four-wheeler? Ernest?”
“Earl.”
“He looks happy.”
Through the window, they could see Earl sitting at a table across from Mr. Jamison. A chessboard sat between them with various pieces placed all around as if the game was in full swing. Earl made a move, and Mr. Jamison threw his hands up in mock protest. Earl laughed. Maybe he didn’t need a social worker for the elderly. He just needed someone like Mr. Jamison.
Bea couldn’t help but smile. “His family all moved away, you know. On to bigger and better things. They come visit once in a while, mainly to tell him what to do, but for the most part he’s on his own.”
Jeremy stomped his feet, a sure sign he was losing feeling in his toes. “Looks like he found a friend.”
Bea started walking again but looked back once before the house was out of sight. It was a powerful thing to have a friend. She’d never thought much about it before, but couldn’t just one friend make a world of difference in someone’s life? She thought of Amber. And her dad. He used to have Pastor Frank, but now he kind of had no one.
She had Jeremy. For better or worse. She reached out and took his hand, and he gripped hers back tightly. All those trillions of stars floating around the limitless sky, and she was a speck of dust in the vastness of forever. But she had Jeremy.
THIRTY-ONE
Her dad paused at the door, keys in hand. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
Bea looked down at Steve as he rubbed his head against her ankle. Part of her wanted to tag along to Grandma June’s appointment, while another part—the part that could barely drag itself out of bed this morning—screamed that this was a rare Friday morning off, and she needed to rest. Plus, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be stuck in the truck with her dad.
“I think I’ll just hang out and wait for my shift to start. You can tell me about it later.”
“I don’t like leaving you here without a vehicle.”
She only barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
Dad flipped up the collar of his coat and opened the door. “Okay.”
He left the house, and Bea looked back down at Steve, now sitting at her feet. “It’s just you and me today, I guess.”
Jeremy had gotten up early to go to Billings for “research.” She’d asked him how much longer it might be before he had a solid business plan, and his eyes had dimmed. “I’m not sure,” he’d said. “I’m still looking for my place in all this.”
It had seemed so simple at first, when she and Jeremy got engaged. They loved each other and would figure it out as they went along. What else did they need to know? Now here they were. A college dropout working part-time at a grocery store and an unemployed city kid trying to figure out rural life. With a baby on the way.
She wished she could go back to the day they moved into their crummy apartment in Santa Clara. They’d said, “This will be an adventure. As long as we have each other, we’ll be fine.” She had a few things to tell those two naïve kids. Like how humiliating it was going to be to move back in with her dad, for starters.
Bea plodded to the couch and flopped onto it. Wasn’t she still just a naïve kid? Maybe Dad was right. Maybe she’d rushed into marrying Jeremy because of everything that happened with Mom. And maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought.
Steve jumped onto the back of the couch and curled up near her head, purring. She huffed. A cat’s life was so uncomplicated. Her eyes began to drift closed, then flew back open at a knock on the door.
“Oh, man.” She groaned as she pushed herself to her feet. If it was Marge coming by with another casserole, Bea was going to . . . well, she didn’t know what she was going to do, but she wouldn’t be too thrilled about it.
She flung open the door, ready to politely but firmly decline any and all food items, but it wasn’t Marge. It was Amber and Hunter.
“Hey, guys.” Bea smiled at Hunter as he nestled a sleepy face into his mom’s shoulder. “Someone got a haircut.”
Amber adjusted him on her hip and tousled his hair. “I did it myself. I always cut my mom’s hair, so I figured I could do his. Saves money, you know.”
“You did a good job. He looks very handsome.” Bea stepped aside. “Come on in.”
“Thanks.” Amber kept a tight hold on Hunter as she dropped his diaper bag on the floor. They both looked as tired as Bea felt.
Bea shut the door. “What are you guys up to?”
Amber looked a little nervous. “I was hoping you’d be able to watch Hunter again.”
Bea raised her eyebrows. She’d been counting on getting some rest. And she was all alone. “Um . . .”
“I know I should’ve texted first. I’m sorry.” Amber moved Hunter to the other side of her body. “Man, he’s getting heavy.”
“Is it Axel again?”
Amber nodded. “He says he’s got some money for me.”
Bea squirmed. That should be good news, right? Then why did it make her cringe inside? “Are you sure about this, Amber?”
“I need the money.”
“No, I know.” Bea spit out the words before she lost her nerve. “But I don’t want you to get hurt again. I just wonder if he’s really changed.”
Amber glanced at Hunter, and a flash of uncertainty pinched her face before she gave Bea a big smile. “It’s going to be fine. He wants to take me to breakfast. Just the two of us.”
Bea eyed the baby warily. Despite her reservations about Axel, she did want to help her friend. Amber was the only person she’d connected with since coming back home. But after last time . . .
“When would you be back? I have to work at one.”
Amber shifted on her feet. “Two hours, tops. I promise. It wasn’t right for me to leave you hanging like that before.”
Bea hesitated a moment more. Then her eyes landed on Hunter’s newly trimmed head and an idea formed. “Okay.” She forced some enthusiasm into her voice and reached for the baby. “But you owe me a favor in return.”
Hunter whimpered as Amber released him. “Of course. Anything.”
“Do you think you could cut my grandma’s hair?”
Amber’
s face lit up. “Sure. I’d love to do that.”
Hunter started to cry, and Bea frowned.
“I better go. He’ll be fine.” Amber opened the door. “He’ll forget all about me in five minutes.”
Bea did not feel as confident about that as Amber sounded. She nodded. “See you in two hours.”
She took Hunter into the living room, where they watched out the window as Amber drove away.
“Mama,” Hunter cried. He reached out and touched the glass. “Mama.”
“It’s okay, buddy.” Bea massaged his back. “She’ll be back soon.”
Soon. Yep. Only one hour and fifty-nine minutes to go.
Bea had tried everything. She had rocked him. Offered him snacks. Checked his diaper. She’d even sung a dozen songs. But Hunter was having none of it.
“What do you need, buddy?” She tousled his hair like she’d seen Amber do. “Do you miss your mom?”
He jerked around in her arms and wailed, “Mama! Mamaaaaaa . . .”
Oops. Shouldn’t have brought up the M-word.
Steve stood nearby, ears perked. He meowed, clearly concerned.
“I know.” She gave him an exasperated look. “I’m trying.”
A quick check of the time told Bea they still had about fifty minutes to go. Her throat constricted, but she swallowed hard and steeled herself. She would not cry. She. Would. Not. Cry. The last thing anyone needed right now was more tears.
Hunter’s wail raised itself an octave, and she winced. “Hot coffee.”
Her back and shoulders ached from holding him. She eyed the couch. If he was going to cry whether she was holding him or not, she might as well put him down for a minute. Just to stretch.
She laid him on the couch and raised her arms over her head. Ooh, that felt good. She twisted her torso back and forth. How did Amber do it? She pulled her phone out to check the time. Thirty-eight more minutes. She saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye, followed by a soft thud. Her heart stopped beating.
Hunter.
A piercing scream rent the air. Bea dove for the baby. He was on the floor. What had she been thinking setting him on the couch? She’d only been two steps away from him, but he had rolled onto the carpet.