The Rescuer

by Dee Henderson

  “Still, it’s an agreement to follow and become like Him. That’s a big promise.”

  “I know it’s big. But it’s worth it.”

  For her the agreement had been worth it, and over the last year the other O’Malleys had also decided it was a good deal. He just wasn’t ready to take the same step. He put his hands on the keyboard and improvised notes over hers.

  He risked asking a question he’d come back to Silverton to ask. “Are we ever going to be anything more than friends?”

  Her fingers fumbled the song and then stilled on the piano keys. She tilted her head to look at him, and he knew her answer in the tension he saw before she spoke. “No.”

  She didn’t even qualify it. That hurt, for he’d been letting himself hope that someday at least there was a possibility of more. She’d been the one he chose to stay in touch with, thought about the most, while he was away. She knew the most about his past outside of family, and there was comfort with Meghan he hadn’t found elsewhere.

  He’d hoped, maybe, that in coming home he could have a deeper relationship to help fill the void that was growing wider each day. He needed a place to belong. He’d decided that on the long drive back. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I can’t divide me, Stephen. God matters and we don’t share that. It would rub a relationship raw over time. And my blindness is a pretty big hurdle too.”

  “Honest and direct, even if I don’t like the answer.” He’d been friends with her so long, and neither item was an insurmountable hurdle for him. But for Meghan, life didn’t come with second chances very often. He rested his hands on the piano, considering her, and then set the wrapped box on the piano in front of her. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I got you something.” He took her hand and lifted it to touch the box.

  “Stephen…”

  “No strings. I just wanted to share my day of celebration, okay?” He kept the words light and smiled. No matter how much he regretted her answer, he wasn’t going to let this moment damage the friendship he valued. She was simply too important.

  He was afraid she wouldn’t even open it, but she tugged at the ribbon. She opened the box and lifted out the bracelet, running her fingers over the links. Her eyes blinked fast at sudden moisture. “This is beautiful.”

  “I thought you’d like it.” He fastened it around her slender wrist. “It looks good.”

  She leaned against him. “You might not be speaking to my Best Friend, which is a shame, but you do make an awfully nice friend yourself. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “And I’m not going to give up on you or stop talking about Jesus; it’s not my nature.”

  He hugged her. “I know. It’s why you’re a good friend.” He leaned over and picked up a songbook from the stack. “Jennifer made arrangements for Tom to send me her diary and Bible for Christmas.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ve been reading the Bible.” He set the songbook on the stand. “How’s your memory?”

  “Not bad.”

  He picked out the melody. “Pay attention. This lesson is going to cost you.”

  “How much?”

  “It depends on how seriously you slaughter this tune.”

  She laughed. He patiently taught her the melody line of the song.

  “What do you think about what you’ve read?”

  “That I should read some more. It’s something I’m doing for Jennifer—I owed her that—but I haven’t found the courage to open the diary yet.”

  Her hand moved to cover his. “There’s no hurry to open it.”

  “Listening to her words from her last days… I’m not ready.” And he wasn’t ready for this conversation either. He closed the songbook. “Come on; show me your willow tree, and then we’ll walk back downtown. You’re going to be late back to work if we don’t head that direction.”

  “Will you surprise me for lunch and a walk again?”

  He heard the uncertainty and tightened his hand on hers as he smiled. “You can count on it. If friends can’t agree to disagree, what kind of friendship is that?” He tripped over Blackie and nearly took Meghan down with him. “Sorry about that.”

  “I need to put something on his collar to warn that Blackie is around. He’s good at taking people by surprise.” She clipped on Blackie’s harness.

  Stephen rubbed the dog’s ears in apology. “More observant people would probably help too.”

  He walked with Meghan back to the clinic.

  He would have stepped in to see her office, but the reception area was filling up with people. “There are patients waiting, and it looks like a full crowd.”

  “We’re the place for everything from emergencies to earaches. It’s too bad you aren’t living here. We need a paramedic in this community.”

  He let the casual remark go by unanswered. “I’ll call you, Meg. Thanks for today.”

  “I’m glad you came.” She motioned her dog inside. He watched her enter the building, greet people, and then disappear from view. This day had not gone anything like he planned. He pushed his hands deep in his pockets as he walked back to his truck.

  Disappointment didn’t sit well with Stephen.

  Half an hour later, he slowed his truck on the road that passed by Meghan’s parents’ home. The Delhart land, adjacent to Neil’s, ran as far as he could see. He pulled to the side of the road and got out. Hands on his hips, he looked his fill of the open land. This was the place Meghan had spent the last several years, and he could feel the peacefulness of it in the pond and the path around it, the open fields.

  Her last comment about being a paramedic had struck a nerve. He wasn’t going back to that profession in the foreseeable future. He would enjoy being a carpenter for the summer, and it was more than a small decision. What he needed most now was a sense of permanence and a place to belong that was his.

  He could head back to Chicago and return to see Meghan in a few days. Or maybe… He turned and walked back to the truck.

  Fourteen

  Stephen entered Neil’s jewelry store. The store was empty and the sound of a radio came from a door in the back that was open a few inches. “Mr. Coffer?”

  Neil came from the back work area. “Meghan didn’t like the bracelet.”

  “Are you kidding? She loved it.” Stephen knew of no way to lead into the conversation but simply to ask. “You mentioned you were considering selling your place next to the Delharts’.”

  Neil leaned against the counter, considering him. “I’ve been thinking on it.”

  “Would it be possible to see it? At your convenience?”

  Neil crossed over to the window and turned the sign to say closed. “It’s time for a break. Let’s take a drive now.”

  Stephen knew enough about land to know that what he was seeing was roots, generations of roots in one place. “Are you sure you want to sell this place, Neil? There’s history here.”

  They walked slowly along the rock driveway from the barn back toward the house. The place was so much more than Stephen had expected. He no longer wondered what he was doing but rather how he could possibly make this work. The barn would be a perfect workshop—there were outbuildings for supplies and equipment—and he’d have so much land to use for future projects. The potential here was overwhelming.

  “My wife and I had good years here. I married her down there by the pond, and we had our twenty-fifth anniversary out at the barn with a good old-fashioned square dance. She started to lose her memory, but she never forgot the dance or the pond or how much she loved to pick blackberries from that patch down the way. For me…I’m not growing any younger, and since my stroke this place is more work than I can manage. It’s not like I have family to inherit it.

  “I’ll spend my last years quite comfortable living above the store. I’ve already been staying there during the winter when the weather is bad. It’s even got an elevator from when it was a bank. I’ll be selling this place. The only real question is
whether the house and land need to be divided in order to find buyers.”

  Stephen looked around the grounds. “What are your boundaries?”

  “The pond is all on my property, Bill Delhart’s place comes to that line of trees near the other bank, and the homestead plot goes south to the line of trees. I own the acres across the road down to the corn Nelson had planted. There’s just over a hundred acres total. There are five buildings on the property between the house, barn, garage, and two storage buildings. It would probably be better to simply tear down the house and start over than try to rebuild it.”

  Stephen didn’t know much about living in the country. He knew less about farming. But today neither mattered. “Neil, I’d like to buy your place.”

  “You feel like haggling the price over a cup of coffee?”

  Stephen smiled. “It’s been a long time since I haggled over anything more than fish bait, but I’ll go a few rounds.”

  “Once you see inside the house, you’ll change your mind about this place.”

  “The house is the one thing I’m capable of restoring. There’s no sagging and settling with age; that says whoever built it did a good job.”

  “Come on; I’ll show you. I’ve already taken the furniture that mattered to me out and the last of my personal bits and pieces. Everything that’s left can either go with the property or be sold at auction. Some items in the house go back to my parents, and the farm equipment in the storage barns runs, but it’s old enough I don’t know who would be interested in buying it.”

  Stephen followed him up the porch and into the house. The heat was turned down and there was the feel of a place that had been unoccupied, despite rugs on the hardwood floors, aged curtains, and plants on the windowsill still soaking up the sun. It was a simple house, but the ceilings were tall, the doorways narrow, and the windows larger than he expected. Stephen saw past the first layers to the potential. “I just sold two remodeled homes in Chicago and I’ve got the proceeds to work with. The land will secure a loan for the rest.”

  “We’ll haggle a price and handshake on a deal. Give me a lift back to the store, and then come back and walk the place. My wife would be pleased to know it was going to be a home again.”

  “This is a lot of place for just a handshake.”

  “I never did a deal with a man whose word I couldn’t trust,” Neil replied. “My banker and lawyer will make it work. I’m old enough I’d rather have a few years to enjoy the proceeds than make this a drawn-out sale.”

  Stephen looked around the house and smiled. “Let’s go get that coffee.”

  Craig froze at the sound of people moving around inside the old house. The insulation in the attic was scratching his skin, and just the idea that he had to be still immediately started driving him crazy. He was hot, tired, and hadn’t found anything, but Neil was not a man to make this easy.

  Craig knew there were gems hidden somewhere on this property or at the store, and he had to start the hunt somewhere. How many pieces were still stashed to cool off was hard to figure out, but he thought it had to be at least forty. He figured Neil wouldn’t have been able to recover any pieces hidden in hard-to-reach places since his stroke. The attic had seemed logical, but so far Craig had come up dry. He moved farther back from the attic trapdoor that went down into the utility room. He’d have to wait them out.

  Another few weeks to search this place and he’d have what was here. He couldn’t believe Neil was moving so fast to sell the property.

  Once voices faded and he heard the sound of a vehicle leaving, Craig lowered himself down through the trapdoor. He would come back when it was dark. There was no use being seen out here. He was too well known in town that if someone saw him, even briefly, they would recognize him. If Neil got wind that he was out here, he didn’t want to predict what Neil would do. The man didn’t like being double-crossed.

  Knowing his luck, the pieces had probably been moved to the store and Craig would have to wait for the man’s next stroke. He had to do something to get cash soon. Steal from the pharmacy, something. He was desperate for another fix, and he could only stretch out what he had for so long.

  Stephen waited as Neil went into the back of his store and then came back with a ring of keys. “That barn will make you a good workshop. I had them run extra power circuits and breakers for the building.”

  The banker had been more than willing to accept the endorsed cashier’s check, the lawyer a one-page agreement, and with a handshake Stephen found himself the owner of the homestead. A loan for the sale of the sixty acres of farmland would process at its own speed, but as of now he was the tenant on record. He had to admire the efficiency of men who already had their ducks in a row. All the banker and lawyer had been waiting on was a name and price to add to the paperwork.

  Stephen accepted the keys from Neil and offered his hand. “Thank you.”

  “You wanted a challenge; now you have one.”

  Stephen walked the property. It was a huge place, and he would have to learn the art of caring for grounds that had everything from grapevines to blackberries and several dozen types of trees in the orchard. The yard would take a huge mower, and he’d have to sort out the condition of the equipment acquired from Neil. The man had taken good care of this place, but as his wife’s health slipped and he’d had less time and energy to give it, the years of neglect showed as nature reclaimed its territory. Several seasons of work would be needed to prune and trim it back under control.

  The gravel driveway extended from the main road to a detached garage behind and to the left of the house. A long walkway connected the garage to the house. To his left a fenced pasture hailed back to the days when livestock roamed the property. The huge barn was close to the house, and farther out were two storage buildings. He’d bought the property without an appraisal, bought the contents of the barn and storage buildings with merely a glance inside, and did the same with the house. He would have to go through each to see what he would keep and what he would sell. Stephen wasn’t worried about the speed of his decision; he knew how to read a man, and the price arrived at had been fair to them both.

  This was his new home.

  He took a deep breath as the depth of that hit him and leaned back against the front bumper of his truck. Home. He had no thought of ever selling this land.

  Mom, Dad, I wish you were here to see this.

  At the thought he pulled out his phone to call the family he had. “Jack? What are you doing at the moment?”

  “Debating the merits of which movie to see with Cassie.”

  “If you two have a couple days free in your work rotations, want to see my new place?”

  “You picked one of the homes to fix up?”

  Stephen grinned. “Nope—a house and a hundred acres of land. I’m looking at something I think is a sundial beside an ancient well, and I own them both.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Silverton.”

  “You bought a farm? What do you know about farms?”

  “That’s what I said, then I shrugged and shook the man’s hand. You want to come help me out here?”

  “You’ll have to give precise directions. I don’t drive outside of concrete and pavement.”

  “Bring your phone along. I’ll get you here.”

  “Do I need to pack a sleeping bag?”

  Stephen laughed. “It’s not that rural. The town has a nice hotel and also a bed-and-breakfast. See if Cassie wants to come and I’ll get you both rooms. I need help moving furniture from the house out to the storage buildings. I’m going to gut the house back to its frame.”

  “Do you want me to bring your basic move-in gear, or are you coming back into town tonight?”

  “I’d appreciate it if you could bring what you can.”

  Jack checked with Cassie. “We’ll be there Friday afternoon. Have you told the others yet?”

  “I’m making the calls now.”

  “I think this is great, Stephen.”


  He looked around his property as the sun was beginning to set. His new niece or nephew should have a chance to explore the country life, ride a horse, pet a chicken, and feed a cow. This was the perfect place. “So do I. Call when you get near town and I’ll give you directions.”

  He understood why his siblings were all getting married, why they wanted to make relationships permanent. This was his own definition of permanence—a place that would show his sweat equity and maybe a future business, if he loved the carpentry work as much as he thought he would.

  He considered calling Meghan but didn’t. The speed of this decision, the unexpectedness of it, would make her cautious. His arrival into her community might feel like pressure, and he didn’t want that. Their friendship would have to find new footing with the addition of the word neighbor.

  He wanted the same peace she had in her life, and part of that had come from having a permanent home. He might have selected Silverton because she was here, but he’d made the decision on the land for reasons that had little to do with her.

  He needed to make peace with life, and he would begin that process here. Stephen O’Malley, landowner. It was a good feeling.

  Stephen elected to take a hotel room for the night rather than stay at the farmhouse, if only to allow himself a good night’s sleep and a chance to think through a plan for the next days. He stretched out on the bed and listened to the evening news while he thought about sleeping. Would Meghan understand? He thought about calling her several times during the course of the evening but never reached for the phone. There was time to tell her he was now her neighbor, but he didn’t know yet what the ramifications were for the two of them. In a small town they would be seeing each other often.

  He rubbed his eyes and reached over to the nightstand. He’d brought Jennifer’s diary with him. For the first time since Tom had sent it to him, Stephen opened the book. He had settled down to one place and given himself roots. Jennifer wasn’t around to call and tell about his new home. Every milestone in his life for the last two decades had been marked by Jennifer’s quiet words. He missed her tonight. He turned pages and randomly chose an entry.