Glory Falls

by Janine Rosche

  The answer to that question burned his throat like acid.

  “You and Andrea weren’t—”

  “No.”

  Val grinned. “I didn’t think so. Where does all this leave you and Blue?”

  Thomas squinted against the sun.

  “I know you’re not running. Not Thomas Beck. You’re the most steadfast person I know.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated doesn’t mean impossible. You know, I’ve spent a good deal of time thinking about you and me. I think we have the same problem.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “I thought the reason I was so scared to let someone in was because I was bound to hurt them. Paramedics and firefighters are supposed to be brave, right? If I’m honest, I’m afraid. Scared out of my mind that if I care for someone, I’ll be the one with the broken heart again. We both know what that’s like, don’t we?”

  The ache in Thomas’s chest deepened. As always, Val—Valor—was right. He wasn’t protecting others as much as he was preserving himself. He’d seen it in Cassie, too, with her controlled emotions, busy work schedule, and surface-level relationships. Oh, Cassie. One more person Thomas had failed. “So what do we do?”

  “What’s our motto? Risk much to save much, right? I think that works for our personal lives, too, don’t you?”

  * * *

  * * *

  The next morning, Thomas bolted upright on the couch. His T-shirt, sopped with sweat, clung to his chest. It wasn’t real. Blue was not trapped in the dark beneath the water’s surface. She was probably sleeping soundly in her bed with his dog. Then why couldn’t he shake the feeling that she was in trouble?

  He stripped off his shirt, then lay back on the couch. Ten minutes later, with his heart still racing, he checked the time on his phone. Nearly six in the morning. If he left soon, he’d be home just after dinner. And if the feeling of danger persisted, at least he’d be close enough to rescue her.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Blue had never been the praying type. After all, why in the world would the God of the universe need the help of a girl like her? A glance at the cascade of mountains surrounding her now proved he did just fine without humans sending up their ideas. If she had prayed for Ella’s safety that day, would the outcome have changed? Unlikely. Her boots sloshed against the remaining snow. In the battle of winter versus spring, the white stuff was losing. All across the landscape, life was returning to Montana. But not inside Blue. Hunter’s confession yesterday had put the final shot in her heart. She was dead inside.

  Molly circled by the step of the old church before lying down. No doubt, the dog’s entire side would be coated in mud and slush after this.

  Blue handed Molly her special gnawing bone, then climbed the concrete steps that seemed to have crumbled a bit more over the winter. The wooden floor was soft and wet beneath her feet, and it gave a bit with each step. Soon, if something wasn’t done, the whole thing would collapse, and the earth would reclaim her field of mountain grasses. Maybe some things were meant to fall while others rose in beauty and prestige.

  Blue stared through the hole into the rich blue above. In the church’s century-long life, how many Montanans had sat here and prayed for healing that didn’t come, wealth that never appeared, or soldiers who never returned home? How many of Thomas’s prayers had wafted up through the slits in the rafters and vanished in thin air? He was the praying type. Had been ever since he’d accepted her invitation to come to church with her family. And what good had it done him? His parents had still split, then abandoned him. He’d been forced to give up dream after dream to help his sister and others. And in the end, he didn’t get the girl.

  Blue stared up at the ceiling. “Is this how you planned it? While you were creating majestic mountains and waterfalls, did you know what life would feel like to your children?” Blue’s face pinched. “I think you knew all along. Just didn’t care.” Blue ran her hand along the arched window frame. Wooden splinters crumbled with her light touch. Such a beautiful thing once, and yet, here it stands—a wisp away from falling for good.

  “Beautiful things shouldn’t fall. Precious things shouldn’t be lost.”

  It was never meant to be this way.

  The voice came from deep inside her, in the place where her sorrow stemmed.

  It was never meant to be this way.

  Her vision blurred. At least she and God were in agreement on something. But where did that leave her? Crying in a shack, completely alone?

  From the crevice where a cross might once have hung above an altar, a sparrow sang. The birdsong was too pleasant, too hopeful for this scene.

  Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.

  Blue shook her head, willing away the memory of the verse that someone had written in a card after the funeral. Ella was worth more than sparrows, and yet where was she now? A better place, some people said to console her. What better place is there than her mommy’s arms?

  Her legs wobbled, and Blue crouched before she collapsed entirely. She lost her balance, falling forward until her knees met the rotting wood. Her forehead followed suit. After thirty seconds or so, muddy fur pressed against her hand. Molly whined. If she was trying to nudge her awake from this nightmare, she was out of luck. But it was enough to have her there sharing in her sadness. Another series of chirps echoed overhead. On one rafter, a small head peeked out from above a nest. The sparrow in the crevice flew to it. For the avian family, this old church still provided much-needed shelter. And they carried on with life together.

  She pressed her cheek against Molly’s fur, not too far from the spot where the back limb was missing. In the beginning, God had designed dogs with four legs. It was cancer that changed the plan. Cancer, death, house fires, bus crashes, abandonment, heartbreak—all the things that wrenched pain deep into our beings, scarring us from the inside out—were never part of the original plan.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be this way, sweet girl,” she echoed to Molly, but also to herself. At that moment, Blue noticed a streak of sunlight on the ground at the very center of the church. Two streaks, actually, that ran perpendicular to each other, crossing at the midpoint. She glanced around, up to the roof and each wall, but there was no cross-shaped gouge in the wood that Blue could see. No mirrors to refract the sunlight. And yet, here it was, for her to remember that when sin and death devastate, Christ’s death on the cross and Resurrection promised hope that one day all would be made right. There would be no more weeping, no more sorrow. She would one day run her hands through Ella’s curls and cradle her babe in her arms. Until that sweet day, she’d remember Christ’s promise. She’d remember the cross.

  When her eyes fell on the shape again, it was merely two perpendicular marks where the weathered wood had dried. No cross in sight.

  Blue met Molly’s gaze. “Come on, Molly. Let’s go home.”

  The dog followed her lead out the door, pausing by the steps long enough to scoop up her bone. Molly padded along, oblivious to the slush, mud, and uneven ground. She was happy as, well, a Labrador. Her ordeal earlier in life hadn’t stopped her from living a purposeful life, bringing joy to Blue and Thomas. This strange little family of theirs might just be what they all needed to carry on. A gift of grace. A way to make it through the pain and sorrow. A way to experience laughter again. And hope.

  Up until Blue had driven Thomas away.

  She reached into her coat pocket for her phone. No service. She opened up her photo app and found a whole slew of pictures she and Thomas had taken in the nearly two months they’d been together as a couple. More than she’d taken in the past two and a half years combined. She stalled on the picture at Skijoring Fest in front of one of the racing horses. While Blue smiled at the camera, Thomas pressed a kiss to her temple. She could still feel his arms enc
ircling her stomach—warm, secure, steady always. He’d loved her. Did he still? Or had time and distance sobered his feelings toward her. She swiped for the next picture. They posed cheek to cheek for this one in the ultimate selfie style. And he was smiling. Honestly smiling. Being with her made him happy. And being with him brought new life and possibilities. That had to count for something.

  Molly bounded into the creek, and the sight raised goose bumps on Blue’s arms. How that dog could find splashing in snowmelt streams pleasant—even fun—was beyond her comprehension. Childhood memories soothed her mind. All the overthinking she’d done since yesterday’s cemetery visit and Hunter’s revelation had taken their toll. Here, standing beside their mini waterfall, it was easy to picture young Thomas crouched down with his action figure underneath the falls with her Barbie.

  A softball-sized stone tumbled down the mountain, plunging into the creek. Blue’s gaze trailed up the slope to see what might have unsettled it. Grizzlies would be waking up from hibernation right about now, and that encounter would be fatal, especially in their hungry state. But she saw nothing. Nevertheless, the sense of a lurking danger settled in the marrow of her bones.

  “Let’s go, Molly.”

  She directed Blue to Thomas’s house instead of her own. “Let’s see if your daddy has special dog shampoo somewhere in here. You look like Augustus Gloop after he took a dip in Willy Wonka’s chocolate river.”

  The dog happily ambled up the porch steps, her tail wagging furiously. But unless she knew something Blue didn’t, Thomas was still in Colorado, far, far away.

  Blue found the spare key hooked to the underside of the porch swing, the same place his mother had kept it as long as Blue could remember. “I’m hurrying. I’m hurrying. Are you excited to be back home? Yeah, I like it here, too.”

  When she got the door open, Molly charged ahead, past Blue’s legs. “No, Molly! Stay! Heel. Ugh, you’re covered with mud. Come back!” But it was no use. The Lab was on a frantic search—for Thomas? Poor thing. The house was cold. He must have turned down the thermostat to save on utilities. This home hadn’t felt so frigid since both of Thomas’s parents lived here. She’d never liked being under this roof then. She didn’t like Thomas or Cassie living under it much, either. Cue the outdoor adventures and barn movie scenes.

  But he’d created something new, something homey within these walls. She’d thought it was the modern rustic design with the worn leather couch, warm paint tones, and the stone hearth. Yet all those remained, and it felt hollow once again. She perused the space. Only one thing was missing. And that made all the difference in the world.

  She searched the cleaning closet for the dog shampoo, then under each sink. Nothing. The laundry room was a bust, too. Molly, panting from her exertion, circled her in the hallway, smearing mud across the wall. “Girl, you’re giving me even more work to do.”

  Molly bounded into the guest room and heaved herself up on the bed, sprawling out across the crisp white pillowcases.

  “Not on the bed!”

  Molly let loose a series of cries that broke Blue’s heart.

  She kissed Molly’s forehead. “I know you miss him. So do I.”

  The dog’s brows waggled.

  “And we’ll make sure you are nice and clean whenever he comes home. Now, let’s get you in the bath. I’ll use whatever shampoo he’s got.”

  A half hour later, Molly slumbered on the rug by the hearth, smelling of American Crew shampoo, which Blue didn’t mind one bit since it tricked her senses into thinking Thomas was near. Blue set about cleaning up the bathroom first, then the hallway’s wall, the tile floors, then finally, the guest bed. The bed Thomas had carried her to on New Year’s Eve now sported smudges of mud. She removed the quilt, then the sheets and pillowcases. She started a load of towels and sheets in the washing machine, setting a mental reminder to return later this evening to switch it over to the dryer.

  Back in the guest room, she opened the closet to find a clean set of sheets. Surely, he had more than one. Again, her search came up empty. The only linens in the whole closet were a spare quilt and an old fitted sheet that had been tossed haphazardly over something on the top shelf. Compared to the neat and organized contents in the closet, it sparked a curiosity Blue couldn’t ignore. What would the single owner of a home be hiding, and from whom?

  Blue swiveled on her heels. She should respect his belongings, his space. But she just had to take a little peek.

  A small lift of the sheet showed a spread of yellow plush through the translucent bin. Almost the same yellow as—

  Blue grabbed the sides of the bin and removed it from the shelf. It was so light. A sharp contrast to the weight bearing on Blue’s heart. Beneath the sheet, a dozen yellow teddy bears of varying sizes and materials greeted her. Her hunch had been right. Blue caressed one of the bear’s ears. Yellow had always been Ella’s favorite color. Somehow he’d figured that out. And even when Blue and Hunter couldn’t bring themselves to visit her earthly body’s resting place, Thomas had been faithful to visit and honor her child’s life. From the looks of it, he had no plans to stop until she’d run him out of town.

  She sank down onto the carpet, leaning back against the bed rail and box spring. Even they couldn’t compare to the sturdiness of Thomas’s chest when she rested against him. Blue took out her phone and pressed his number.

  It didn’t ring. Voice mail immediately picked up. “This is Thomas Beck. Leave a message.”

  The short, succinct message tickled Blue’s funny bone. A man of many words, he was not. She was the rambler, and yet, she had no clue what to say after the tone.

  “It’s me.” Her mouth was dry as a desert movie set. So many things swirled in her brain. The Glory Falls screenplay. Hunter’s confession. Thomas’s vindication. And, of course, her absolute adoration and love for him. “Molly’s fine. Don’t worry about her. I guess I just wanted to be sure of you. And maybe see when you were coming home.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Thomas stopped for a bite to eat just outside of Grand Teton. Finally, he had cell service. A heap of notifications hit him at once. A text from Cassie assuring him Dad would be fine without Thomas babysitting him any longer. Noted. A text from Robbie demanding Thomas return and face his problems head-on. That’s just what he was trying to do. An e-mail from Spencer wondering when he could stop backfilling his position at the firehouse. And a voice mail . . . from Blue.

  Fumbling his phone for a second, he tapped on it and held the speaker to his ear. Her words waltzed all around him, each syllable leaving a trail of hope. Hope for Blue. Hope for their relationship. He said a quick prayer for the right response when he called her back.

  As he contemplated, two men settled into the booth next to him. One of the men, wearing a Wyoming farm suppliers cap, cleared his throat in a loud bark that, funny enough, made Thomas miss Molly. “Did you hear about those tremors up in Montana? Looks like the ground is trying to move.”

  “I can handle the little shakes,” the other man said. “As long as Daddy ain’t following close behind.”

  The food he’d just eaten didn’t sit right. He grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet and sped out of the café, leaving his trash on the table. Out of character, but he didn’t want to be this far away from Blue a second longer than he had to be. He jumped in the car and started up the highway, north to Montana. He asked the voice-automated function on his phone to call Blue Walker.

  “Call failed.” No service.

  About two hours to home. That was it. God would have to protect her from any possible calamity until then.

  Chapter Forty

  Blue made herself a bowl of soup for dinner, but it wasn’t appetizing. Not with that voice mail hovering somewhere between her and Denver. Into the fridge it went, and out came the package of Chips Ahoy. She tore into it and pushed a whole cookie into her mouth. Maybe she shou
ld call him again. What if there was a reason he hadn’t answered? What if he’d hurt himself somehow? Perhaps by rescuing a hiker, and he got his arm pinned between two boulders? Or maybe by working a wildfire he’d come across, and he’d ended up in a hospital? Blech. The chocolate chip cookie tasted like ash on her tongue.

  The doorbell rang. A new scenario dashed through her mind. Thomas had come home. That must be it. He hadn’t answered because he was on his way back to her, and service through the mountains is spotty.

  Blue launched herself from the stool and hurried to open the door.

  “Keira. Hey.” Blue attempted to mold a smile on her face. Not that she wasn’t glad to see Keira. She was just hoping for someone taller and way less pregnant.

  A month out from her due date, Keira looked ready to topple over. Bless her heart for carrying a Matthews child on her tiny frame. But she was glowing as always. Maybe glowing a bit too much. Her face looked flushed, or maybe that was just the light from the sunset behind her. She held two DVDs in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other. “You up for a movie night?”

  “You know it.” Blue welcomed her friend, noting how Keira strutted in a most penguin-like way. “What do you have there?”

  “I brought It Happened One Night or The Bells of Saint Mary’s, in case you aren’t in the mood for romance.”

  “Joke’s on you. I can envision romance in anything—even between a priest and a nun. Which one do you want to watch?”

  “Personally, I’m partial to on-the-road romances.” Keira shrugged.

  “Ha. Of course you are. Clark and Claudette, it is.” Blue accepted the ice cream offering and placed it on the table, then rounded the kitchen island to grab two bowls and two spoons. “I’ll have to go over to Thomas’s at some point, switch a load of laundry over, and retrieve Molly for the night.”