Glory Falls

by Janine Rosche

  “Hey, babe.” His usually flirtatious greeting was soaked in pity now. Perhaps he had been remembering how she’d begged him not to leave, promised him whatever he needed from her if only he’d stay. The look on his face before he’d walked out the door said it all, though. “I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing now that everything is finalized. I also wanted to apologize about the pics of Ilsa and me. I meant to call yesterday and give you a heads-up.”

  Forget Hunter’s pity. Now she was pitying herself.

  “Add it to the list of things I’m sorry for. I wish things had been different for us.” His groan echoed the caving in of Blue’s heart. “If you need anything at all, just let me know. More money. A house. If the Mercedes needs work done, you call me, and I’ll have my assistant send you a check.”

  Blue rolled her eyes. Already, he’d offered half his earnings to her without her asking, so strong was his guilt. A silence hung over the line now.

  “I never stopped loving you, Blue. That wasn’t the reason I left. It was just . . . every time I looked in your eyes, I saw Ella. And I couldn’t—”

  Her thumb hastened to stop the voice mail. She tossed the phone onto the far side of the sectional, then she sank back onto the cushions, clutching a pillow to her chest, and let herself cry until she drifted off.

  Chapter Two

  She was in the river again, the inky black tethering her arms and legs to its rocky bed. Blue thrashed but to no avail. She tried to cry out, but the water filled her throat. The heaviness, as always, pressed on her chest until her lungs felt as though they might burst, and her spine threatened to snap. Blue searched, desperate to see the moonlight above the water’s surface. Nothing. Only darkness.

  The doorbell’s chimes cut through the river’s rumble. She opened her eyes to see the lamplight from the corner of her parents’ family room. It took a moment for her to get her bearings. She’d returned to Montana, seen Thomas out the window, and lain down on the couch. And now, someone was at her door. Thomas?

  Blue found her footing and wiped the wetness from her nightmare-weary eyes. Tears had a way of scaring off men, she’d learned. How long had it been since she’d spoken to Thomas, anyway? Five years? She hurried to the front door, racking her brain for something to say.

  When she opened the door, midafternoon sunshine and a short blonde launched themselves at Blue.

  Keira Matthews squeezed her tight. “I’m so happy to see you! Thomas texted Robbie that you were back, and I had to come over.”

  “Hey, Keira.” Blue welcomed her old friend with strained breath. For a tiny thing, Keira had a strong embrace. Blue needed this hug, painful as it was.

  When Keira finally released her, she took hold of Blue’s hands, gripping them just as tight. “I was hoping you’d visit us. I’ve been wondering about how you were doing and trying to figure out how to get in touch with you. I was going to ask Teddy—”

  Blue laughed. “Were you always this talkative?”

  Keira looked at the wedding band and matching engagement ring on her left hand. “No. I guess I’m just finally happy.” A megawatt smile nearly blinded Blue then. If Keira was beaming, she might have to wear sunblock before she saw Robbie. Blue had never seen a boy love a girl more than Robbie Matthews had loved Keira, and that was years ago.

  “I’m glad to hear that.” She was, too. She and Keira only became friends in their senior year of high school, but they’d grown close quickly. “Come in. I’m sure my mom has coffee in the kitchen.”

  “No coffee for me, but I’ll take an ice water.”

  Blue filled two glasses and sat next to Keira on the couch. Keira regaled Blue with how she and Robbie reunited after five years apart. When she’d been moonlighting as social media influencer Kat Wanderfull, Robbie had helped her land her dream job, but it nearly cost him what he loved most: his daughter, Anabelle. But they’d been married for a while now, and she and Robbie often traveled in an RV, recording a reality show for Teddy Woodward’s television channel Seek.

  Keira set the glass on the coffee table and tucked her legs beneath her. “I’m sorry we lost touch after college. That was a difficult time for me.”

  “Don’t apologize. It was my fault, too. I let myself get sucked into another world.”

  Keira fiddled with a lock of her hair. “Blue, how are you? I’ve been worried.”

  Blue gulped down her water. For a half second, she thought about her parents’ liquor cabinet. That would certainly take the sting off these “catching-up” conversations, but Blue had never been one to drink. It had been her job to drive Hunter home and put him to bed whenever liquor was involved. “Um, it’s been hard. But I’m ready for a new start.”

  “Good. I’m all for new starts.” Keira’s eyes wandered around the room, then focused on the mantel of the fireplace. “Is that . . . ? Is that your Clyde?” Keira leapt off the couch and headed to the statue for a closer look. After studying it a moment, she looked back at Blue. “Are you still writing? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched Mississinewa Glory. Blue, your movie is amazing.”

  A proud grin stretched Blue’s cheeks. The screenplay she’d started in high school and revised again and again while at USC had been in a bidding war by two different studios. Once put to film, audiences fell in love with Glory, the twelve-year-old main character who set out to bring hope to her small 1950s Indiana town after a bus accident took the lives of a dozen children. Along with her best friend, Felix, she arranges a marionette show, using the dolls and toys of the deceased, and faces trials and ridicule along the way. What she’d thought would be a niche film, appealing to a small audience, surprised everyone when it swept the best picture category at all the major awards. “Once Ella was born, I took a break from writing, but I’m ready to dive back in.”

  “I want to help any way I can.”

  “I’d love a friend. You know, someone to eat ice cream and watch old movies with.”

  “Of course. Although Robbie will probably try to come along. He thinks the world of you. Thomas does, too. I see it whenever someone mentions your name.”

  Blue toyed with her earring. “Hey, how is Thomas?”

  Keira’s gaze roved Blue’s face. Only Keira had guessed Blue’s feelings for Thomas back in high school. She was reading her now, and Blue didn’t like it. “He’s okay, I guess. He’s been . . . different recently.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like, he’d worked his way up the chain at the River Canyon Dam. Then out of the blue, he quit last summer. He started working out like crazy, cut off his hair, and joined the firehouse. And ever since, he’s been more solemn than ever. The man broods harder than anyone I’ve ever known. But maybe now that you’re here, he’ll lighten up.”

  “Oh, I doubt that. We aren’t close like we used to be.” Blue’s thoughts returned to the brunette on his driveway earlier. “Does he, um, have a girlfriend or anything?”

  A smile slid across Keira’s face, and a spark flickered in her eye. “Val Haviland. She’s a paramedic. They’ve been dating about two or three months. She’s sweet, but we aren’t convinced she’s the one for Thomas.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You’ll see when you meet her. That’s one of the reasons I’m here. I want you to come out to eat with us tomorrow night. We’ve all missed you.”

  “Will Thomas be there?”

  “He should be. After all, he told me to invite you.”

  * * *

  * * *

  The following day, Thomas leaned his head against the driver-side window and rested the phone on his thigh. Still, Spencer’s hooting and hollering were loud and clear.

  “The next time you do something that stupid or don’t follow orders, you’re out. I won’t have the death of one of my men on my conscience. For Pete’s sake, weren’t you the safety director at the dam? We have safety p
rotocols at the fire department, too, and you’ve broken every one of them. Two in, two out. That’s the rule. But you went into that fire alone. Then you took off your air mask?”

  He lifted the phone to his ear. “Spencer, I—”

  “I don’t want excuses. I want you to use your brain. You are not invincible. Stop taking stupid risks. I have a three-strike rule. Consider that strike one. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” As Thomas pocketed his phone, pain spliced his back muscles on the right side. The injury was mild, though, and he’d accept much worse if it came down to it. Sorry, Spencer, but he had no regrets over his actions the night before last. Because of those actions, a pregnant mother and her children were alive today. If he’d followed protocol, he wouldn’t have gotten to them in time. Nope. No regrets.

  Thomas left his Bronco parked in the driveway. He followed the stone steps, then paused to take in the view. The Woodwards weren’t ashamed of their wealth, that was for sure. Their new home was above all the rest in West Yellowstone in both luxury and altitude. From this spot on the mountain, he could see his entire life. His and Robbie’s preferred fishing spot. The dam where he’d worked for ten years. The only home he’d ever known. And right next door, the Walkers’ house, where he and Blue had spent every summer riding the wind, or at least as much as her parents allowed. Thomas released a breath.

  A quick meeting, then he’d pick up Val and head to Ollie’s. For whatever reason, Thomas needed to see Blue. See that she’d survived the past two years. See that she was okay. Better to do that at a crowded restaurant than somewhere more private. At least this way, distance would be easy to keep.

  He turned and jogged up the steps to the timber-frame porch. Thomas raised the bear-shaped brass door knocker and pounded it against the wood twice. Three times seemed excessive. Although Thomas had no clue why a man like Teddy Woodward wanted to meet with him, he didn’t wish to seem too eager.

  Heavy footsteps thudded inside. Seconds later, the door swept across the tile floor Thomas had helped install this spring. Teddy, with his weathered skin and graying hair, greeted him with a proud grin. “Thomas Beck, how are you doing?”

  Rather than answering, Thomas extended his hand to the man. “Thanks for reaching out.”

  With the same hand that had accepted a record number of motion picture awards throughout Thomas’s lifetime and before, Teddy Woodward accepted the handshake firmly. “Come in, come in.”

  Thomas stepped past him and lifted his eyes to the vaulted ceilings. The home was a work of art, and Thomas had witnessed every stage of its construction. Teddy had contracted Robbie to build it two years ago when his custom home-building business was only a pipe dream. It was a yearlong project where Robbie could cut his teeth in between trips for his reality show. Thomas was more than happy to help whenever the new contractors fell through. The physical labor felt good when his mind was a mess.

  “The house looks great. Thanks for giving Robbie his break.”

  “Pssh. Wasn’t needed. I was happy to do it, and the kid’s got talent. Take a seat.” Teddy gestured to the couch, then disappeared into the kitchen. “What can I grab you to drink? We’ve got pretty much everything,” his voice called.

  “I’m all right. Thanks.” Thomas settled onto the sofa, its leather not yet worn in.

  A moment later, Teddy rounded the couch with a can of soda in his hand and took a seat at the other end. “You’re probably wondering why I brought you here.”

  Thomas remained still.

  “I have a proposition for you. It’s something that’s been rattling ’round my brain for a while. But hearing about what you did for that family clinched it. My media company is looking to expand into movies. That’s where my passion has always been.”

  They stared at each other. Thomas’s stomach knotted as he tried to catch Teddy’s drift.

  Teddy finally broke the stare, then took a long swig of soda. “I want to tell your story, Beck.”

  “What story?”

  “The story of a normal man living an extraordinary life. You’re a regular Mr. Deeds.”

  “Who?”

  “You know the classic movie? Or the Adam Sandler remake?”

  Thomas raised his brow. He’d been called a lot of things in his life. But Adam Sandler? That was a new one.

  “Mr. Deeds was always doing the right thing. The courageous thing. The heroic thing. And he didn’t do it for fame or glory. He did it because it was who he was created to be. You, Beck, are just like that.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “I know about you. I’ve heard the stories. I’ve shaken hands with the people you’ve saved. Some people go their entire life never doing a single good deed. But you’ve done enough for the whole town.”

  Thomas felt the blood drain from his head. He stood, hoping the movement would help his circulation. “I’m no hero.”

  “Tell that to the people you’ve saved.”

  “I hate to tell you, but you’ve wasted your time. Find a police officer, or a soldier, or a teacher. They’re the heroes. Make one of them the star of your movie. I’m not interested.” Thomas sulked to the foyer.

  “You rushed into a burning home and saved a whole family from certain death that night. They’re alive because of you and you alone.” Teddy’s voice seemed to bounce off the tall post-and-beam ceilings and strike him from all angles. “Why’d you do it? Why’d you go inside?”

  Thomas stopped, urging the coolness of the door handle to travel up to his collar. “Risk much to save much. My squad’s motto. I was doing my job.”

  “If it were your job, the rest of the firefighters would have joined you. But you went in three times. That man can inspire a nation.”

  Thomas scoffed as he turned to face the legend. “I’m just trying to pay bills.”

  “Oh, is that it?” Teddy rose from the sofa and walked to a large rolltop desk against the back wall. He retrieved a booklet and a pen from the drawer, then bent down to write.

  Thomas’s phone buzzed in his pocket once. Twice. Three times. He retrieved his phone.

  1 Missed Call from Dad

  He ran his free hand down over his nose and mouth. Against his better judgment and his sister’s advice, he should’ve answered it. They must be expecting a blue moon over Montana tonight if his dad was calling. Either that or the funds had dried up. “Listen, Mr. Woodward. I have plans for the night.”

  “Give me a minute. I’m not as young as I once was. And it’s Teddy. That’s easier for when we work together.” Teddy straightened and gave his back a stretch. He pulled at the paper—a check—and it tore one perforated dot at a time. Each tiny tick struck Thomas’s nerves. With the same swagger he’d used in that award-winning western that Blue’s father had written decades ago, Mr. Woodward crossed the room. He held out the check for Thomas to take. “This is what my company can offer you.”

  Instead, Thomas hooked his thumbs on his back pockets. “Why are there so many zeros?”

  Teddy laughed. “When I ran this by Robbie, he said you’d be skeptical. But there are no villains in this story. The fact is, we pay in relation to how much we think we can make off the movie. People need to see a story like yours. It’ll give hope to a dark, cynical world.”

  Thomas lifted a brow. “And that’s how it works. You write a check, we spit on our hands and shake on it, and it’s a deal?”

  The wrinkles on one cheek deepened with Teddy’s smirk. He tore up the check. “The check was just theatrics. There’ll be a contract with legal mumbo jumbo.”

  “I appreciate your belief in me. It’s not something I’m interested in.”

  “What if I double the amount we pay you?”

  Thomas swallowed hard. “You have a good evening, Mr. Woodward.”

  Once he’d shut himself inside his Bronco, he listened to the message his dad left.


  “Sorry I missed you. I don’t have a number for the place I’m staying, but I’ll try you again later when I can scrounge up some more change. I wanted to tell you I’m still alive, if you can believe it. And I also wanted to ask you . . . I mean, I know I shouldn’t keep doing this, but I really need, uh—you know what? I’ll tell you when we talk. Anyway . . .” The voice mail ended without another word.

  Thomas tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, then rested his arms and his forehead on the steering wheel.

  Chapter Three

  Blue checked her hair in the rearview mirror, smoothing the flyaways. After she ran the edge of her pinkie along the line of her lower lip to catch any feathering, she rolled her eyes. This wasn’t Hollywood. These were her friends. Maybe they hadn’t kept in touch since her college years, but they knew her with and without makeup. It had never mattered what she looked like—which was good, because she’d been the belle of the awkward years’ ball. Also, this was Ollie’s. Not exactly highbrow.

  She exited her Mercedes, which, in this parking lot, stuck out like Montana boots in an LA private school. The restaurant hadn’t changed much, except for the sign. The top half read Ollie’s Bar and Restaurant, and the bottom half said Recovenant Church: Sundays 9:00 and 10:45. According to her parents, it was the church for the broken, beaten down, and hopeless. Ryann’s fiancé had recently taken over as senior pastor, they’d explained.

  Inside, she was greeted with the smell of bar food, two-decade-old cigarette smoke in the walls, and something else she couldn’t place. Probably asbestos. She nudged her way through the crowded area of the bar. Walking on her tiptoes, she stretched taller than her usual five feet seven inches. But even when she broke through the mass of people, she didn’t recognize anyone. How long had she been gone again?