Along Came a Cowboy

by Christine Lynxwiler

  When I’m almost to the street that the clinic is on, I see blue lights ahead. I slow to a crawl and lean up to peer through the windshield. A man with a flashlight and a slicker motions me to go around a car that’s crashed into the bridge guardrail. I recognize him and wave. He gives me a two-fingered salute, and I smile. Jack may be a reckless, bull-riding cowboy who leaves broken hearts in his wake, but he’s also a dedicated public servant—I’ll give him that.

  Five minutes later, I pull into the office parking lot, my headlights reflecting off the wet asphalt. Soon after I kill the motor, a car swoops into the lot behind me. How’s that for timing?

  I grab my umbrella and prepare to walk up to the door with Judy and Bobby. A spotlight shines in my face through the window, and I instinctively shield my eyes. A second later, Jack Westwood taps on my window.

  I open the door, thankful that his huge black umbrella shields me from the torrent. “Emergency call?” he hollers.

  “Yep.” I step out and pop my own umbrella and use it as a shield in front of me.

  We splash up to the front door and set our open umbrellas down on the covered porch. I turn the key in the lock and flip on the light, then turn back to look at my knight in shining rain suit. “Thanks.”

  “Glad I was around.”

  “Me, too, although I’m sorry about the poor guy who hit the guard rail. He okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s probably back home by now. I was just waiting for the tow truck. They came up right behind you.”

  “Do you always work the night shift?”

  “I’m a light sleeper, so I don’t mind.” Headlights flash across us, glaring off his clear vinyl rain suit. “Want me to wait out here until you finish? I don’t like the idea of you going back out to your car alone.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” I nod toward the car pulling into a parking place next to mine. “I can walk out with them.”

  “I’d rather wait, if you don’t mind.”

  “Suit yourself. But I have to hurry home. I left Jenn there, and even though she’s old enough, it still worries me to leave her.” And the fact that I’d bring her up to him is a sign of how much it worries me to leave her.

  He frowns. “I’m sure she’s fine, but if you want me to, I can drive by the house a few times then come back in time to escort you to your car.”

  “Jack, you don’t have to do that.”

  “No problem,” he says firmly and picks up his umbrella. “I’ll be waiting in my car when you finish. In the meantime, don’t worry about Jenn. I’ll make sure she’s safe and sound.”

  “Thanks,” I call as he darts through the rain and slips into the patrol car.

  The reflection of his taillights as he pulls out onto the road casts an eerie red glow across Judy and Bobby walking slowly through the rain.

  “You in trouble with the police, Doc?” Bobby jokes as they come in the front door with him leaning heavily on Judy.

  “Yeah, I got in trouble for working over a patient who waited longer than he should have to get into the office,” I fire back.

  “You know how to kick a man when he’s down. It’s not my fault I’ve been pulling long loads and haven’t had time to get in. When I do get home, it’s late, and I leave early.” He shakes the water off his hair with his free hand then gasps as a shooting pain apparently takes his breath away.

  “And heaven knows, he wouldn’t want to call you out after hours,” Judy mutters, but I can see the loving concern in her eyes.

  I snatch his file from the vertical cabinet. “Come on back.”

  Thirty minutes later, adjusted and iced down, Bobby grins. “You’re a miracle worker, Doc.”

  “I’m afraid not,” I say. “But I am here to help you.” I sit down at Norma’s appointment book. “You need to get back in tomorrow before you go back out on the road, okay?”

  “That would be great.”

  I schedule him for late morning, and he pays then tries to pay me extra for coming in after hours.

  I shake my head and smile. “I don’t charge extra for after-hours visits unless someone takes advantage and starts coming in at two in the morning for the fun of it.”

  Bobby clutches his wallet and frowns. “I’d feel better if you’d take some extra.”

  “I don’t guess you’re a Beatles fan, are you?” Judy asks.

  I nod. “I definitely am. They were before my time, but I love most of their music. Why?”

  She fumbles in her purse. “We had these tickets for the Liverpool Legends concert tomorrow night. It’s at the Omaha Center in Cherokee Village.”

  She pulls out two tickets and shoves them into my hand.

  I look down at the cardboard rectangles. Who says this is a thankless job? “Judy, are you sure? I heard they were sold out. Everyone says they’re the next best thing to the real deal, so I meant to buy a ticket, but. . .” But Jennifer showed up, and this whole centennial committee thing happened, and I completely forgot until it was too late. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” she says, as they follow me to the front door. “You have no idea how much it means that you came out tonight to help Bobby. Since he hurt his back, we weren’t going anyway. It would be a shame for them to go to waste.”

  I shut down the lights, and we walk out the door.

  “At least the rain has let up for a little while,” Judy says.

  Bobby motions toward the parking lot as Judy and I are folding up our umbrellas. “Looks like the law decided you were still on shaky ground, Doc. Either that, or he just wanted to see you again. He’s back.”

  “What’d I tell you?” I banter to hide my embarrassment. “Better not miss your appointment.”

  “Don’t worry,” Judy says, looking up at her husband. “He’ll be here.” She grins at me. “Maybe Jack Westwood would enjoy going to the concert.”

  I feel my face grow hotter. But that is a sort of pay-it-forward idea, considering Jack’s literally gone the extra mile to make sure Jennifer and I are safe tonight. And this week’s committee meeting went unbelievably smooth. Not to mention the fact that when it was over, I mentally lamented that it might be another week before I saw him. “We’ll see.”

  They head toward their car. I watch them for a minute. Bobby isn’t leaning as hard on Judy now. I’m so thankful that God put the ability inside our bodies to heal. And I’m extremely grateful that He lets me play a little part in helping patients get better.

  I turn to go to my own car. When I approach, Jack opens his door and gets out. “Everything appears to be calm out at your house.”

  A wry smile lifts my lips as I think of Jennifer’s determined search for her birth mother and me with all my secrets. Looks can be deceiving.

  But she’s safe for now, and I’m thankful Jack drove by. For a second, I close my eyes and lift my face to the light breeze. The air has a rain-cleansed smell. I open my eyes to see him staring intently at me. “Thanks for driving out there. Knowing you were checking on Jenn made it easier for me to keep my mind on what I was doing.”

  “I’m glad. You really put yourself out for your patients, don’t you?”

  I shrug and start to make a tongue-in-cheek remark about getting free concert tickets out of the deal, but he speaks again.

  “Couldn’t you have told him to go to the ER?”

  “What?”

  “Your patient. Wouldn’t it have been easier on you if he just went to the emergency room?”

  I laugh. “The ER is a wonderful and worthy place, but not if you’ve got a vertebra that needs to be put back into place. My patients know when to go to the ER and when they need me. If it’s something I can take care of, they call me.”

  He frowns. “No matter the weather or time of day?”

  “No matter. Neither rain, nor sleet, nor— Why should their health be less important than delivery of the U.S. mail?”

  “But if you had a family. . . ,” he says.

  “What about you?” I counter. “You’re out in the middl
e of the night. What if you had a family?”

  He looks startled then shrugs. “My wife would accept that as part of my job.”

  “I’m guessing my husband would have gotten my rain slicker out of the closet for me and would have a cup of chamomile tea waiting when I get home.”

  He chuckles. “Or been really irritated that the phone blasted him out of a deep sleep.”

  There went his invitation to the concert. I open my car door. “You know, that’s probably why I’m not married.” I slide in. “Thanks again, Jack.”

  He looks like he wants to say more but just touches the brim of his hat. “Glad I could be here.”

  As I drive home, I think about our conversation. I am awfully settled into my life. All these years, I’ve had warm, fuzzy daydreams of a wonderful partnership, but maybe a husband would just be irritated by my job. Of all the men I’ve ever known well, I’d have expected Jack to be the most understanding. I’m sure he’s had to call doctors out in the middle of the night plenty of times.

  I snort. I must be delirious from lack of sleep. What difference does it make to me what Jack thinks about my schedule?

  The dogs meet me at the front door when I get home then follow me down the hall to Jenn’s open door. She’s sound asleep, and the guard light outside the window casts a golden glow across her face. Her eyelashes are so long they almost touch her cheeks, and her bow mouth is slightly open. Has it really been eight years since I made the second hardest decision of my life?

  As soon as the baby was born, I’d gotten my own apartment five miles down the road from Tammy and Russ, closer to the chiropractic college. In spite of Tammy’s protests, we both knew it was for the best. Every day I stopped in, just to watch Jenn grow.

  Jenn shifts and I freeze. What teenager wants her loony aunt watching her sleep? I can hear her now—“That’s just creepy.” Her left foot peeks out from under the blanket. I smile. I was blessed to witness that little foot—well, that foot that used to be little—take its first step, to hear her first word. And my sweet sister asked my opinion on everything from preschools to Jenn’s sleep habits.

  She’ll be going into tenth grade when school starts. Her first day of high school. I shake my head. Seems like yesterday was her first day of kindergarten. Tammy and Russ invited me to go, but that momentous event was one for parents, not an aunt, no matter how doting. I’d tried to stay busy all day, but I cried that night for the first time in years. I knew right away what I needed to do. In one of those things that must surely be God, my childhood chiropractor called to tell me he was selling his clinic. I made him an offer and moved back to Shady Grove.

  A longing tightens inside me. What would it be like to truly be her mother?

  I push the longing away. Not my path. My path is to keep the promises I’ve made. Promises to my sister, to myself, and most of all to my baby Jenn, whose life will turn upside down when she finds out the truth.

  Lord, what do I do?

  I don’t linger for an answer, because, really, I’m not ready for it.

  “You made it back, huh?”

  I jump and look into Jenn’s green eyes, open wide. “Um, yeah. I was just checking to see if you were okay.”

  “I made it fine. Barely knew you were gone.” She smiles sleepily. “But it’s good to have you back.”

  “Thanks, kid. Night.” I drop a kiss on her forehead and walk quickly from the room.

  The next morning, as I slip into my clothes, my gaze falls on the concert tickets sitting next to my jewelry box. I freeze as I remember a wild thought I had as I was drifting off to sleep. Surely in the light of day, there has to be a different person to invite.

  Not Jenn. She’s barely heard of the Beatles. And Allie is too busy making last-minute preparations for her wedding. Victoria has a standing Friday night thing with her parents. I could ask Lark. That might get her mind off babies for a few minutes. And get me off the mental hook my crazy idea has put me on. I reach for the phone then draw my hand back. Lark isn’t a Beatles fan, and I know it. She was country when country wasn’t cool.

  I pace on the Oriental rug in front of my dresser. Cocoa and Shadow pace beside me, both looking puzzled. Only a few minutes before I have to go to work. If I’m going to call and ask, now’s the time. I close my eyes and pray. This could be a first step. A bridge. Not a huge steel interstate one, admittedly. Maybe just a shaky rope job hanging over a deep precipice, but a bridge nonetheless. And God expects me to build bridges when I can. I snatch the phone up before I lose my nerve, then punch in the number and wait.

  “Hello?” Mom answers, in her energetic morning voice. When we lived at home, Tammy and I used to laugh at the way Mom could wake from a deep sleep with a perky hello if the phone rang.

  “Hey, how’s it going today?” I scratch Shadow behind the ears and try to relax.

  “Rachel?” The incredulous note in her voice makes me want to slam the phone down. It’s not like I never call. Rarely, I’ll admit, but not never.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Is Jennifer okay?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Oh. Well. That’s good.”

  Silence. A part of me—probably the very childish part—wants to just let her wonder why I called, but I can’t stand the silence.

  “Have you ever heard of the Liverpool Legends?”

  “The Beatles?”

  “Not exactly. They’re impersonators, I guess you’d say. A tribute band. George Harrison’s sister put the group together.”

  “I’ve never heard of them.”

  “The reason I asked—a patient gave me two tickets to their concert tonight in the Village.” I love saying that. It sounds so New York. Of course I’m talking about Cherokee Village, a community right down the road from Shady Grove, but still, it could be Greenwich.

  “Oh? And you can’t go?” Mom sounds genuinely puzzled.

  This is harder than asking a man out, I think. Not that I know for sure.

  “I can, but I wanted to know if you wanted to go, too.”

  “With you?”

  Is this how Jack felt that day he asked me out and I acted like such a goose?

  “Yes, with me. I’m sorry it’s so last minute. They just gave me the tickets.”

  “I’d love to,” Mom said, her voice quivering slightly. “But wouldn’t you rather take a date? Or Jennifer?”

  “Jenn might enjoy it,” I say, ignoring the “date” comment, “but not as much as you would. She’s happy staying with Allie’s girls. And it’s only fair you should have to go with me. After all, you’re the one who played me all those albums when I was sick with the chicken pox.”

  “I was desperate to get your mind off the itching.”

  “And to get that ‘inane boy band’ off my boom box, if I remember correctly.” I say, relaxing a little. “You wanted to show me what a real boy band sounded like. And from that moment on, it was Paul, John, George, and Ringo for me.”

  “You had good taste for an eleven-year-old.”

  “No doubt I inherited it from you.” How’s that for bridge building? At least a four-lane with concrete posts.

  “Oh”—she clears her throat—“that’s very sweet.”

  “Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  She laughs. “It’s a date.”

  As I’m tearing off the face paper after the last patient leaves, Norma comes in, grinning. “You sure are humming a lot today.”

  “I’m going to a concert tonight.” I wad the paper into a ball and toss it through the little basketball hoop over my trash can.

  She puts her hands on her hips. “You sound excited. Big date?”

  “I wouldn’t say so. At least not where she or my dad can hear you.”

  Her brows draw together, and she shakes her head. “You feeling okay?”

  I just nod. “Fine and dandy.”

  As soon as she’s gone, I go back to humming “She Loves You.” I hurry home and change into jeans and a green top. But wh
en I pick up the brush to give my hair one last going over, I clutch it like a microphone and blast out, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Good thing Jennifer’s already at Allie’s. She’d fall on the floor laughing.

  When I get to the ranch, Mom meets me on the porch, and I smile. As we settle ourselves in my car, I look over at her. It must have killed her to leave her blouse untucked so that it hangs out beneath her vest. But the stylish effect is worth it. “Nobody would believe you’re old enough to be my mother,” I say after she’s buckled in.

  She blushes.

  I pop in my Beatles CD, and the opening notes of “I Saw Her Standing There” fill the interior of the car. When they sing about her just being seventeen, Mom clears her throat. And I fumble with the forward button. Unfortunate choice. “The Long and Winding Road” starts. Much better.

  Mom smiles. “Great mood setter.”

  We ride without talking. By the time we reach the Omaha Center, the knot in my stomach is gone.

  We enter the auditorium early and find seats in the fourth row. Most of our fellow audience members are roughly twice my age, with a few teenagers and tweens scattered throughout the arena. I probably should have offered the other ticket to Dad. He’s not a fan, but at least he’s from the right era.

  When the curtains open, I quickly forget second-guessing myself. The fast-paced show keeps me on the edge of my seat. The performers may not look exactly as I remember John, Paul, George, and Ringo looking on my parents’ album covers, but they sound much as I remember the voices on the albums sounding. And they encourage audience participation. At first I don’t look at Mom as I sing softly, but soon we’re leaning together, belting the familiar tunes out like we did that rainy chicken pox summer.

  At intermission, Mom heads to the bathroom while I wait out in the foyer examining some archaeological finds in a display.

  “You a fan of the Fab Four?” a deep voice behind me asks.

  I spin around to find Jack, his brown eyes twinkling.

  I nod. “Yes. You too?”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “I had no idea.” As soon as I say the words, I realize how silly they sound. Even though we lived next door to each other through grade school, junior high, and high school, I found out more about him during our little crash course in “getting to know you” at Coffee Central than all the years before. I’m sure there’s much I still don’t know. Intriguing thought.