An Accidental Family

by Loree Lough

  “I’ll get it,” Lamont said.

  He carried the portable phone from the kitchen, muttering and mumbling under his breath for a good five minutes.

  “Was it Mommy?” Amy asked when he returned.

  Lamont bent to kiss the top of her head, then took his place at the head of the table. “No, sweet girl, I’m afraid not.”

  “Frank?” Adam asked.

  Nodding, Lamont absentmindedly painted his plate with fudge frosting. “It was mostly good news.” He took a swallow of milk, and with a nod toward Amy, implied he’d deliver the not-so-good news later.

  Nadine could almost hear the disappointment draining from her son as Lamont sent her a sad half smile.

  “Seems ol’ Frank’s puppy-to-the-root tendencies have paid off.” He went on to explain how the detective had stubbornly refused to accept Marcus’s findings, and hired two separate fire investigation specialists. Both came back with the same results: What had appeared to be gasoline, deliberately spattered onto the walls and floor, was instead the contents of the oil lantern that had always stood on an end table in Nadine’s parlor. Claw marks on what remained of the window trim indicated that to access her favorite perch on the wide sill, Julie’s cat, Peeper, had upset the table, overturning the lamp.

  So that’s what Julie was trying to tell me the night I cut my hand in the dishwater.

  “Frank said to tell you to expect a call from Marcus.”

  Adam put his fork down and shoved back from the table. “You mean they’re dropping the arson charges?”

  “Yup.”

  Lamont’s quiet tone told her what words needn’t: He understood that now the insurance company could write a check, freeing Nadine to study floor plans and choose the colors and materials that would become her home. In time, he’d realize how much better off he’d be once she was out of his house and on her own again. And God willing, with a little distance between them, maybe they could reestablish the once-companionable nature of their relationship, because if not, oh, how she’d miss him!

  “Guess I’ll get Amy tucked in,” Adam said, hoisting her from her chair.

  “Will you read me two stories, Daddy?”

  “You know I will.” He kissed both chubby cheeks and shot a quick glance at Lamont. “It’ll only take fifteen or twenty minutes.”

  On his feet now, Lamont nodded. “I’ll be in my office.” He leaned in to pop a kiss on Amy’s upturned nose. “Sweet dreams, baby duck. See you in the morning.”

  The child climbed from her dad’s arms to Lamont’s with the ease and speed of a chimp, and pressed both chubby palms to his cheeks. “I love you sooo much, Unka Lamont!” Then she hugged him long and hard and climbed back into Adam’s arms.

  Nadine followed them to the bottom of the stairway. “Soon as I get the dishes cleaned up, I’ll come in to give you a good-night kiss.”

  The dishes could wait, she decided as she hurried back to the kitchen, until after she thanked Lamont. The good news from Frank wouldn’t have been possible if he hadn’t funded the investigation.

  Her heart sank when she heard Lamont’s office door close at the other end of the hall. Obnoxious trotted up and sat, waiting for a pat on the head. “You’re a handsome old boy,” she said, bending to scratch his forehead, “but much as it pains me to say it, you’re a sorry second to your master.”

  The dog whimpered and snuggled closer, and as she hugged his furry neck, Nadine knew it would be a long, lonely night.

  A bittersweet feeling enveloped Nadine as she went about her chores the next day. Relief that she’d been cleared of the ugly accusations was diminished by the knowledge that she’d hurt Lamont by turning down his proposal. Guilt and regret churned in her veins as she prayed for a way to show him how much he meant to her, how grateful she was for all he’d so selflessly done for her and the kids.

  And then while gathering eggs from her henhouse, an idea dawned.

  For the first time in months, hope and happiness glowed inside her as she prepared dinner for the ranch hands. Lamont’s crew put in long hours and required plenty of substantial food at the midday meal. That meant filling dozens of bowls with nourishing yet palate-satisfying foods like beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, oven-fried chicken and hearty biscuits. They ate it with gusto, barely leaving enough to scrape into Obnoxious’s bowl.

  As much as she enjoyed watching them devour every morsel, she enjoyed the calm and quiet mood of the evening meal even more, when it was just Lamont, Adam and Amy and herself. She liked this early-fall time of year, too, when twilight came early, suffusing the house with a slower, easier pace than the one that characterized the bright light of day.

  While Adam and Lamont ate and discussed the next day’s chores, Amy chattered happily, inspiring Nadine to thank God for blessing little children with such amazing coping skills. Between bites of grilled cheese and sips of tomato soup, the child seemed content to remain in Lamont’s homey kitchen forever. Questions about where her mommy had gone and when she’d come home dwindled from dozens a day to a mere one or two, usually at bedtime. Nadine didn’t know which made her sadder, the child who used to miss her mother so much that she cried herself to sleep every night, or the one who seemed to have adapted to a life without constant pressure and strife.

  “I smell smoke,” Amy said around a mouthful of macaroni and cheese.

  As Nadine looked behind her to make sure all the burners had been turned off, Adam said, “She’s right. I smell something, too.”

  Lamont sniffed his way to the French doors that led to the terrace and the outbuildings beyond. “It’s coming from—”

  Adam hollered, “The barn’s on fire!”

  Instantly, Nadine was on her feet.

  “Call the fire department,” Lamont ordered, “while Adam and I check things out.”

  They raced out the door and across the back lawn so quickly that they probably hadn’t heard her say, “Please be careful!”

  By now the whinnying of the frightened horses had reached the house, too. “Oh, Grandmom,” Amy said, staring wide-eyed and terrified out the window, “they won’t die, will they?”

  She grabbed the phone and dialed 911, then gave her granddaughter’s slender shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Your daddy and Uncle Lamont will do everything they can to save them.”

  When the operator answered, Nadine spelled out the problem and provided the address. Would the woman realize that the department had been summoned to another fire, right up the road?

  She hung up feeling feeble and frail, because there wasn’t a blessed thing she could do to help Lamont and Adam move the horses from the barn to the corral. And what about poor old Obnoxious, who paced and huffed puny warning barks to anyone who might threaten his home and family?

  She dropped to her knees, and, hugging Amy tight, began reciting the Twenty-Third Psalm. Because despite feeling helpless and powerless, she believed He would see them through this, just as He’d seen them through every other tragedy that had befallen them. She had faith that He’d bring Lamont and Adam back to her, safe and sound, because if anything happened to either of them, Nadine didn’t think she could trust Him, ever again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lamont knew better than to focus on the terrified trumpeting of the horses. Instead, he directed Adam’s actions until they performed like a well-seasoned team. It seemed to take forever to lead the agitated animals into the corral, but by the time they’d latched the gate securely behind them, two fire engines had roared up the drive, sirens screaming and lights flashing.

  In the wraithlike, bloody glow of the fire’s light, Adam’s looked much older than his years. Did the boy share Lamont’s concerns that Julie might somehow be responsible for this fire? The younger man answered the unasked question with one of his own: “Can I have the keys to your gun cabinet?”

  He studied the boy’s eyes, haggard and tired, thanks to the events of the past few weeks. “I’m thinking the Winchester is our best bet.”

  If
Adam hadn’t been under such intense pressure, balancing a full-time job and caring for his little girl, all while searching for his missing wife, he never would have considered aiming a loaded weapon at his pretty young wife.

  “I think you’ll be more useful inside, making sure your mother and daughter stay as far away from this mess as possible.”

  It took a moment for his words to sink in but, in seconds, Adam nodded. “You’re right. Don’t know what I was thinking.” He turned, as if to go back to the house, but stopped halfway there.

  Was it his imagination? The firelight playing tricks on his eyes? Some eerie sort of optical illusion? Or had Adam, too, seen a dark-clothed figure, running duck-and-cover style, beyond the barn?

  “Julie!” Adam bellowed, racing toward the spot. “Julie, stop!”

  In one instant, the shadowy figure stood stock-still. In the next, it was swallowed up by the dancing light-and-shadow shapes born of the fire.

  “Adam,” he hollered over the shouts of firefighters, the hiss of water hoses, the rumble of their trucks’ engines, “Adam, get back here!”

  If the younger man heard him, he made no effort to obey. Before Lamont knew it, the boy had vanished into the blackness. Gone. Out of sight. “Lord, watch over that hotheaded young fool,” he prayed. And even as the words exited his mouth, despite the mayhem and chaos all around him, Lamont knew that in Adam’s shoes, he would have done the very same thing.

  Marcus strolled up to him, ponderous belly all but covering a shiny Texas-shaped belt buckle. “You people turned into a bunch of pyromaniacs or somethin’?” As if to punctuate his grave statement, the fire marshal walked his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “Did you see something out back earlier?” Marcus asked, calmly wiggling the toothpick between his two front teeth.

  “Somebody, you mean.”

  “Right. Before Adam took off runnin’.”

  He nodded.

  “Sent two guys over to see what they could shake outta the bushes,” he said, frowning at the bent tip of his toothpick. “I oughtn’t tell you this,” Marcus added, using the toothpick as a pointer, “but I don’t believe that li’l gal had anything to do with this. Or the fire at Nadine’s, either.”

  About the time he opened his mouth to ask Marcus on what, if anything, he’d based his observation, a soggy, sooty firefighter ran up.

  “Got ’er under control, Marcus.” He removed his helmet and skimmed a sooty glove over his brow.

  “Good job,” he said. And to Lamont, “You’d best put a handful of hunnerts into the collection plate come Sunday, ’cause only thing that explains how quick all this straightened itself out—well, except for this latest mess, anyway—is that you’ve got the Lord on your side.”

  Lamont told Marcus the way things had unfolded, leaving out only the part where Adam had asked to fetch the rifle.

  “I expect we’ll need to talk to you down at the station, but it can wait until tomorrow.” He placed a hand on Lamont’s shoulder. “For now, go inside and be with your loved ones, and thank the good Lord that He spared y’all again.”

  Something sinister swirled with the scent of charred wood, and hung in the air like a menacing fog, a solemn oath of impending doom. He watched as the last of Marcus’s men climbed aboard the lumbering trucks, and as they ground down the drive, the sensation grew. He needed to find Adam—and find him now.

  Lamont gave a thought to heading inside to fetch the Winchester himself, but instead grabbed a coil of rope, hanging from a corral fence post. He slung it over one shoulder and headed to the spot where he’d last seen Adam.

  He heard voices, far in the distance. First a woman’s, next a man’s, soft at first, then growing louder, more agitated with every step he took. Adam had found Julie, and from the sound of things, she was none too happy about it. They faced each other like old West gun slingers. Julie spewed fury like a human volcano, accusing Adam of all manner of vile and despicable things. When she faced Lamont, raw, unbridled disgust beamed from her eyes.

  Lamont had heard stories of the Irish banshee, an angry old hag whose face and voice could turn a man’s blood to ice. He’d never fully understood how anyone could look or sound so wicked and horrible that they had the power to paralyze humans. He understood now. Understood, too, how in days gone by, people suffering from mental illness were thought to be possessed by the devil himself, because that’s exactly how Julie looked to him.

  “Julie,” he said, taking a step closer, “you don’t know how worried we’ve all been about you. Seeing you, knowing you’re all right, it’s the answer to our—”

  “Shut. Up. You simpering old fool,” she spat. “You can’t pacify me with lies. I know they say I’m crazy, and maybe I am, but I’m not stupid.”

  “It’s no use, Lamont,” Adam said. “She’s been off her meds too long. We need to—”

  “I won’t go to another loony bin. I won’t!” she screamed, running toward the driveway.

  Lamont slid the rope from his shoulder, quickly fashioned it into a lasso. In his day, he’d been a better than average wrangler, but it had been a while since he’d roped a calf. “Please God,” he said through clenched teeth. “Help me, so we can help her.”

  The rope rippled out in front of him, rode the smoky, sooty air between him and Julie. If she hadn’t turned, seen it hovering above her like a hangman’s noose, he’d have caught her, for sure.

  But she was young and lithe and light on her feet, and quickly sidestepped the lariat. And then, she was gone. “Where’d she go?” Adam wondered, pivoting.

  “Don’t know,” Lamont said, “but you’d better get back up to the house, because if she gets there first…”

  For an instant, a look of dread and terror drained the color from Adam’s face, but he quickly regained his composure and raced for the house.

  At the first sputtering, grinding sounds of an engine, struggling to come to life, Lamont moved toward the driveway, and saw her rage-twisted face, illuminated by the pickup’s dome light, pounding the steering wheel, grimacing as she tested the ignition, over and over.

  The scene unfolded before his eyes as if in slow motion.

  Tires spewed gravel as they worked to grip the drive.

  The truck, speeding full-out toward the highway.

  The thundering blast of a big rig’s horn.

  The high-pitched squeal of tires, skidding on the asphalt.

  Metal, crashing into crumpling metal…

  And after a millisecond of absolute quiet, the soft tinkling of shattered glass, raining onto the pavement.

  The fire trucks had been gone all of five minutes— too long to have heard the crash. So he opened his cell phone, dialed 911 and croaked out the necessary facts that would bring the EMTs up the same driveway that the firefighters had just vacated.

  He reached the road just as the trucker leaped down from his cab. The man didn’t seem to notice that his mouth and nose were bleeding, that still more of his life’s blood oozed from a gash in his forehead. “She pulled right out in front of me,” he said, voice trembling. “I jackknifed the rig, trying to stop in time.” Both hands pressed to his temples, he hit his knees. “Oh,” he moaned. “She ain’t dead, is she, mister? Please, God. Tell me she ain’t—”

  Adam appeared from out of nowhere, silencing the driver. “Stay back, Adam,” Lamont barked, holding out an arm out to bar his path. “Let me have a look-see first.”

  He couldn’t say if his hard tone or the sight of the mangled pickup froze the boy in his tracks, but, thankfully Adam, stayed silent and still.

  Julie’s eyes opened slowly when he walked up to the driver’s door. “Guess I…guess I’ve gone…gone and done it this time,” she wheezed.

  “Shh,” Lamont said, stroking her bloody forehead. “I’ve called 911. Help’s on the way.”

  “They can’t…can’t help me.”

  “You’re gonna be fine. Just hush now, and hold my hand until the paramedics get here.”

 
; Other than Nadine’s, Lamont had never seen bigger, bluer eyes. Julie locked onto his gaze, and when he took hold of her hand, she squeezed it with a power that belied her size and condition.

  “Not gonna…can’t…make it,” came her ragged reply.

  “Don’t talk like that,” he scolded gently. “Don’t even think it. Listen…hear those sirens?”

  Eyes shut now, she gave one weak nod.

  Lamont leaned into the truck and, not wanting Adam to hear, whispered hoarsely, “You hold on, Julie Greene. You have a little girl who needs you, and a young husband, too. Both of them love you, so you work hard, you hear? You hang in there and—”

  “They don’t—” a rumbling wheeze escaped her lungs as a look of agony wrinkled her brow. “—love me. Nobody does. Why would they? I’m…”

  Tears stung his eyes as he gave her hand a shake. “They do love you. Nadine loves you and I love you. Why, even Peeper and Obnoxious love you!”

  That, at least, inspired a tiny smile.

  “And God loves you, too.”

  She studied his face, as if searching for signs of insincerity. “Why?”

  It was more a long, jagged breath than a question. “Because you’re His little girl, every bit as much as Amy is your little girl.”

  The smile grew by a fraction of an inch, exposing bloodied gums and teeth broken when her face slammed into the steering wheel. “Uh-oh,” she rasped, “you’re…in trouble, ’cause it’s a sin. To tell. A lie…”

  “Now you just listen here, young lady—”

  Adam ran up and muscled Lamont out of the way. “Julie.”

  “Hi, honey,” she said, “I’m home.”

  He leaned into the cab and kissed her forehead. “Do you know how to make an entrance, or what?”

  She turned to get a better look at his face. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

  “Nah. It’s history. Over and forgotten.”

  “Did they…tell you about the oil lamp?”