A Brother's Promise

by Mindy Obenhaus

  A knock sounded at the door, and Sadie immediately changed course and headed in that direction. “She’s here!”

  “Hold up there, little lady.” Fortunately, her miniature legs were no match for his long strides, and he stepped in front of her. “Remember what I said about opening the door?”

  “That you hafta be with me.” Wearing a cheeky grin, she splayed her little arms. “And you’re right here.”

  “Right.” Why hadn’t he figured that out? “So long as you make sure you adhere to that rule.” He reached for the knob, making a mental note that Sadie was much smarter than the average five-year-old. Then again, how would he know? Sadie was the only kid he’d ever been around.

  When he opened the door, Sadie gasped. “A doggie!”

  Christa smiled, the cold air adding a touch of pink to her high cheekbones. “You must be Sadie.” In one gloved hand she clasped a white gift bag with purple tissue paper poking out the top, while the other held the golden retriever’s leash.

  “Uh-huh.” The kid couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the dog.

  “I’m Miss Christa.” She knelt. “And this is Dixie.”

  “Hi, Dixie.” Sadie finally looked at Christa. “Can I pet her?”

  “You sure can. Matter of fact, she loves to be petted.”

  His niece set one tiny hand atop the dog’s furry head.

  “I have to warn you, though,” said Christa, “she likes to—”

  Sadie giggled when the dog licked her chin.

  “Give lots of kisses.” Christa stood again.

  “Y’all come on inside.” Mick shivered. “It’s freezing out there.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me.” The furry pom-pom on Christa’s knit hat bounced with each step. “It smells amazing in here.” Her compliment had him puffing his chest out a bit.

  “Thanks. Dinner’s almost ready.” He closed the door as she took in the space that encompassed living, kitchen and eating areas. While he liked living in the old camp house he and his father had built when Mick was just a boy, there was nothing feminine about it. From the pine plank walls to the collection of deer trophies lining one wall and the fishing rod rack by the door, this place was the original man cave. Heather, his ex-girlfriend, had hated it. Wanted to make all sorts of changes to the place. Not to mention him.

  But for Sadie, he was willing to make a few changes. At least the walls in the upstairs bedrooms were drywalled. He’d sure hate to paint over that pine.

  “Well then, since we have a few minutes—” Christa held out the bag “—Sadie, this is for you.”

  “For me?” The child’s eyes went wide, and she managed to tear them away from the dog. “Uncle Mickey, Miss Christa bringed me a present.” She accepted the bag and began pulling out the tissue paper.

  Removing her gloves and scarf, Christa turned a smirk his way. “Mickey?”

  He narrowed his gaze on her. “You’re too old to get away with that, so don’t even.”

  “Lookie, look!” Whatever it was, Sadie was excited.

  Mick moved closer to see markers in every color of the rainbow and a collection of coloring books. One with a unicorn on the cover, another with horses, and the other two with princesses and mermaids. “That’s quite a haul there, kid.”

  He leaned toward Christa. “I get the feeling you’re up to something.”

  “Don’t worry. The markers are washable.”

  “Good to know.” Even if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind.

  “Which one would you like to color first?” Christa tugged off her hat and shrugged out of her puffy gray coat as she spoke to Sadie.

  “Mermaids!”

  “Oh, I like that one, too.”

  The timer on the oven beeped, beckoning him back to the kitchen.

  “Does that mean dinner’s ready?” Christa called after him.

  He pulled the golden-brown corn bread from the oven and set it atop the stove. “Pretty much.”

  “Good, because I’m hungry.” Tucking her wavy, chin-length brown hair behind one ear, she smiled down at Sadie. “How about you?”

  “Uh-huh. My tummy growled.”

  After removing the dog’s leash, Christa turned his way. “You need any help, Mick?”

  “Uh...sure. Why don’t you grab the plates and bowls—” he pointed toward the cupboard next to the stove “—and Sadie, you get the silverware.” He’d never had anyone ask him if he needed help before. Then again, up until he returned with Sadie five days ago, it had been just him. Tonight, he had a full house.

  Minutes later, they sat at the round, wooden table, Christa across from him, Sadie between them.

  “Shall we pray?” Instinctively, he bowed his head.

  “Can I do it, Uncle Mickey?”

  He popped his head back up, his gaze fixed on Sadie. “Of course you can.”

  “But we hafta hold hands.” She reached one of hers toward Mick and the other toward Christa and they both took hold.

  “Okay, we’re ready.” He watched his niece.

  “No, you’re not.” Sadie scowled at him. “You’re ’posta hold Miss Christa’s hand.”

  Christa pressed her lips together, as though she was trying not to laugh.

  Shaking his head, he realized that the addition of a child was about to turn his world on end.

  He reached across the small table—a move that seemed to sober Christa up. She reluctantly took hold of his hand as Sadie began to pray.

  “God is great. God is good.”

  Christa’s hand was soft, her fingers long and slender. Still, that shouldn’t make him feel as though sparks were shooting up his arm.

  “Let us thank Him for our food. Amen.”

  He wasn’t sure who let go first; all he knew was that neither he nor Christa were interested in holding hands any longer than they had to.

  As they neared the end of their meal, Christa said, “Everything was delicious. Especially the sausage. Where did you get it?”

  He looked at her across the table. “I made it.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Wait, you—? How does one make sausage?”

  City girl. “It’s just venison mixed with a little pork and some seasonings. Then I smoke it in the smokehouse out back. I’ve got a bunch more in the freezer.”

  “You have your own smokehouse?” Her expression told him she was impressed. Either that or amused. “I had no idea.” She picked up her mason jar of water. “Mick, you are obviously a man of many talents.”

  Her praise had him clearing the table in an effort to ignore the strange thoughts zinging through his mind. He reached for her plate.

  “I can get it, Mick. Let me help you.”

  “No.” The word came out a little gruffer than he’d intended. “You and Sadie need to get your coloring in before bedtime.”

  Christa’s mouth went into the shape of an O. “Bedtime. Yes.” Wagging a finger, she continued. “I’d forgotten about that.” She turned to Sadie who was chewing her last bite of sausage and petting the dog that had parked itself between Christa and Sadie for the entire meal. “Are you ready to color?”

  “Yeah!”

  After stoking the fire he’d almost forgotten about, he took care of the dishes, keeping one ear tuned into Christa and Sadie’s conversation.

  “What color shall we make this mermaid?” Christa dumped the markers on the table while Sadie scrunched her little face up in thought.

  “I like this color.”

  “Aqua is a good color for mermaids.”

  “’Cept I like this one, too.”

  Mick craned his neck to see Sadie pointing out the peritwinkle or whatever the color he’d thought was purple actually was.

  “Why don’t we use them both,” Christa suggested. “I bet they’ll look really good together.”

 
“Okay!” Sadie took one marker for herself and handed the other to Christa. “I’ll color her tail and you can color her hair.”

  “I hear you have a new bedroom,” Christa said as they colored, confirming Mick’s suspicion that there’d been a reason for the items Christa brought.

  “Uh-huh. My mommy and daddy went to heaven.” Despite Sadie’s words spilling out as though it was completely normal to have lost her parents, Mick’s heart nearly strangled in his chest. “I live with Uncle Mickey now.”

  Mick swallowed the emotion that lodged in his throat as Christa glanced his way.

  Fortunately, her attention quickly shifted back to Sadie. “Want to know a secret?”

  Sadie paused her coloring and nodded.

  “My mommy went to heaven when I was five.”

  Mick nearly dropped the soapy plate he was washing. He didn’t know Christa had lost her mom when she was little. Why hadn’t she mentioned it at the store when he told her about Sadie? Unless it was something she didn’t like to talk about. Yet she’d told Sadie.

  Cocking her head, his niece studied Christa. “She did?”

  “Yes, and I missed her very much.”

  Sadie scooted out of her chair. “Wanna see my room?” She reached for Christa’s hand.

  “Sure.” Standing, she cast Mick a wary glance. “We’ll let Dixie come, too.”

  As the trio moved up the stairs, Mick suddenly understood why Christa had been so willing to help. And with Sadie slowly but surely realizing that Jen and Kyle were never coming back, help was something he desperately needed. Because he could not, would not disappoint his sister.

  Chapter Two

  Noting the voice mail from her Realtor the next morning, Christa paused near the paint display at Bliss Hardware, tapped the button and pressed the phone to her ear, hoping for some good news.

  “Hi, Christa. Just calling to keep you in the loop. The leasing agent on the Gebhardt building is having problems getting in touch with the owner, so I don’t have any news yet. But as soon as I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

  To Christa’s surprise, she wasn’t disappointed. Then again, the only thing on her radar this morning was Sadie and creating a bedroom that was every bit as special as she was.

  Tucking the phone into the back pocket of her jeans, Christa studied the array of paint chips, unable to forget the look on Sadie’s face when she had so candidly said that her parents had died. The matter-of-fact revelation was one Christa understood all too well.

  When her mother passed away, Christa only had a general idea of what that meant. That her mom wasn’t coming home. What her little five-year-old mind couldn’t comprehend was that she’d never see her again. She hadn’t been prepared for how fiercely she’d miss her mother. What first seemed like an adventure she and her dad had embarked upon soon turned into a heart-wrenching quest to find a new norm. She’d never cried so many tears. Her poor father had done his best to console her, usually to no avail, all the while struggling to come to terms with his own grief.

  Locating the right shade for Sadie’s room, she grabbed the card, knowing there was no way she could let Mick and Sadie go through this transition without some support. Her support. She had no idea what that might look like, but for now, she would focus on Sadie’s room.

  The little girl had seemed excited when she showed Christa the corner room last night. It had two windows that would offer lots of natural light, which was good since the space wasn’t that big. This light periwinkle would be perfect for the walls. In her online research last night, she’d come across a comforter set that had shades of aqua, fuchsia and yellow that would pop nicely against the walls, without overpowering the room. Then they could add some cute toy bins, hang some pictures...and there had to be a photo of Sadie’s parents, perhaps in a pretty frame, someplace where Sadie could easily access it. Christa used to worry she’d forget what her mother looked like. She didn’t want Sadie to have those same fears.

  Fueled with excitement, she retrieved her phone and typed a text to Mick.

  I’ve got Sadie’s room all planned.

  And she could hardly wait to get started. Of course, she’d have to show him her ideas first.

  She hit Send and started toward the front of the store. The late-morning lull was nearing its end. Things were always busy at lunchtime, with people dropping by to pick up one thing or another while they were on break.

  She was about to tuck the phone in her pocket when she felt it vibrate. She looked at the screen to see Mick’s response.

  Great. Will stop by this afternoon.

  Emerging from the narrow paint supply aisle, she pocketed her phone and paused to rearrange the basket of hand pruners and work gloves on the getting-ready-for-spring display as one of her employees hollered.

  “It’s snowing!”

  Christa strolled toward the large windows behind the counter with the cash registers to join her employees in observing the wintry scene. Snow was a rare treat on the coastal plains of Texas and would probably be over in no time.

  “You don’t s’pose we’ll need to close up early, do ya?” Patsy Rodriguez, Christa’s assistant manager, came alongside her.

  She cast an incredulous look at the sturdy, fifty-year-old redhead. “On account of snow? When was the last time that happened?”

  “Back when I was in high school.” Patsy nodded. “’Course, right about the time things started looking real pretty and white, it turned over to ice.”

  “I remember that,” said Zach Munger, who usually worked out in the store’s lumberyard. “I was only in the fourth grade but, as I recall, the whole town pretty much shut down for the better part of a week.”

  “A week?” Christa couldn’t hide her surprise. “That must have been a mighty cold winter.”

  “Worst I can remember.” Patsy shook her head.

  “Me, too.” Audrey Monroe’s long silver hair shimmered under the fluorescent lights as she stared out the window. “Temps dipped way down into the teens and pipes were bursting all over town.”

  Definitely not the norm for this part of Texas. Still... “I highly doubt there will be a need to close early today. But if there is, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  The steady flow of customers between noon and one o’clock was no surprise, though the items they were purchasing were definitely out of the norm. They were snatching up batteries, firewood, flashlights and those foam faucet covers faster than they could restock them, making her wonder if they knew something she didn’t.

  The white flakes were still coming down when Wes Bishop, a local contractor who was married to Christa’s friend Laurel, blew into the store at one thirty.

  “Have you got any firewood left?” Wes dusted snow from his dark hair.

  “I believe we do.” She motioned for him to follow as she made her way toward the back of the store. “Don’t tell me you’re getting all riled up about this snow, Wes.”

  “I wasn’t. But now they’ve issued an ice storm warning.”

  Stopping abruptly, she turned to face him. “When did they do that?” And why wasn’t she aware?

  “I got the notification on my phone just a little while ago.”

  She yanked her phone from her pocket and looked at the screen. Sure enough. In effect until noon tomorrow with up to half an inch accumulation of ice. “I had no idea.” She turned the ringer on before pocketing the phone.

  “According to the radio,” Wes continued, “things are going to deteriorate quickly.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Wish I was. I don’t have much firewood at the house. And if the electricity goes out, Laurel, Sarah-Jane and I will be huddled in front of the fireplace.”

  “Won’t we all.” Except Christa didn’t have a fireplace. Not a working one, anyway.

  She continued toward the back of the sto
re and opened the door to discover only half a dozen bundles of wood remained. And while they were decent size bundles... “Looks like this is all I’ve got, Wes.”

  “That’s okay. It’s more than I have right now, so I’ll take it all.”

  On their way to the cash register, her phone beeped. She pulled it out to see a text from Mick.

  Change in plans. School canceled. Gotta pick up Sadie.

  She looked at Wes. “Apparently they’ve called off school.”

  “Good move. Buses and icy roads don’t mix.”

  “Is it icing already?” She moved behind the counter.

  “No, but when you’re talking about the safety of kids, it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Wes paid for his wood. “I’ll drive around back and load up.”

  “Sounds good. Stay safe and tell Laurel I said hi.”

  As Wes left, Christa’s phone signaled another text. Mick again.

  Better get on home early. Do you need firewood?

  Firewood? Not when she didn’t have a functional fireplace. When she’d had the chimney cleaned and inspected two years ago, they’d said it had a crack that would need to be repaired before it could be used, so she’d opted to paint the firebox and use it for decorative purposes only. She never imagined she might actually need it for heat.

  Her thumbs hovered over the screen a moment before she typed, I don’t have a working fireplace. She hit Send before she could think better of it.

  Seconds later he responded.

  You didn’t fix that crack? What if power goes out?

  As if that was something she’d even considered a possibility. However, if any of those limbs from the big oak trees she loved so much fell and took down a power line, she and Dixie would be in the dark. Or, more to the point, the cold. And if the roads were icy, the power company might not be able to get to them for days.

  Maybe she should go get Dixie and they could stay here at the store. Things probably wouldn’t be as bad in town. Except there was no kitchen, only a small microwave. And she’d have to sleep on the floor. Her gaze fell to the old linoleum. Even with the rug in her office, that wouldn’t be very comfortable.