Last Chance at the Someday Café

by Angel Smits

  Carefully, the girl reached into the torn toy, shoving through the white cotton batting that filled it. She pulled something out from inside the toy. “Don’t tell I got this. Mama would get mad.”

  “I swear.” Tara made the zipper sign over her mouth, hoping she wouldn’t regret her promise.

  Brooke came around the big metal table and stood beside Tara. She extended a piece of paper to Tara. “This is my daddy.”

  Tara’s heart ached as she looked at the old, computer-printed picture of Morgan. Someone had torn the picture into several pieces, then taped it together. He was laughing and posing with the purple dragon that didn’t look nearly as bedraggled as it did now.

  “I’m gonna go find him.”

  “Oh. You are? Why?”

  Brooke looked at Tara then, and the sadness in the little girl’s eyes was too much. She felt her own eyes well with tears. “I wanna go home,” Brooke whispered. “I don’t like Jimmy. At home, Mama played with me and tucked me into bed.”

  “She doesn’t do that now?”

  Brooke simply shook her head, her ponytails bouncing now that they were beginning to dry. “I was at Lisa Hanson’s house for a sleepover the other day.” Brooke walked to the dragon and focused very hard on putting the picture inside the stuffing and re-pinning it. “Her daddy tucked her into bed.” Brooke rubbed her eyes with a fist. “I miss Daddy,” she whispered.

  “Oh, sweetie.” Tara wanted to sweep the little girl into her arms and never let her go. “Would you like me to help you?” The question hung heavy in the air.

  “I saw a big truck here the other day. My daddy used to have a big truck like that.”

  “He did?”

  “Uh-huh. And he’d let me ride in it. Do you think the truck man would know my daddy?”

  Tara swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’ll bet he would. You know, I have his phone number. Would you like me to call him?”

  Brooke seemed to think about it a long time, then slowly nodded. “Yes, please.”

  Tara couldn’t ask for a better opening. She took the diner’s phone and scrolled for Morgan’s number. It wouldn’t have his name, but she knew around what time he’d called. Surely, there weren’t that many numbers.

  Amazing how many people called in a day. Finally, she found the one she was pretty sure was his. Please, let it be his. Let him answer even if he knows it’s me.

  * * *

  MORGAN ALMOST DIDN’T answer the phone. The rain was coming down hard, and while he knew this road well, he was never comfortable driving the rig with a phone in one hand. He slowed, which was surprising since he was already creeping along. Water splashed up, loud on both sides of the cab as he pushed the truck through yet another pool of standing water in the middle of the road. He hit the speaker button and propped the phone on the console.

  “Hello?” He didn’t take his eye off the road to see who it might be.

  “Morgan?” Something akin to relief and joy washed over him. He hadn’t thought Tara was speaking to him. If he were her, he wasn’t sure he would. He hadn’t seen her since he’d left with Sylvie.

  “Yeah? Tara? What’s up?” He tried not to get his hopes up that she was calling because she actually wanted to talk to him.

  “I’m at the diner.” He heard her say, then a long silence where the phone seemed to blip out. “We’re...dinner...”

  “I only got part of that. You’re breaking up.” His heart sank. He wanted to talk with her, wanted to clear the air between them. She was talking, but he couldn’t understand the odd syllables. Then he heard a full word. “Brooke...” Another long pause. “Here.” Then the phone cut out completely. The silence was too heavy not to be absolute.

  “Tara?” He waited, hoping the call was still connected. “Tara?” No answer this time, either. He cursed and had to force himself to not slam his foot on the brake pedal. He took several deep breaths as he kept driving. Trying to see through each swipe of the wiper blades and the path in the beam of the headlights through the thick dark.

  * * *

  THE CALL CUT OUT, and Tara didn’t even try to call Morgan back. She knew he was out on the road, and with the rain coming down, it couldn’t be safe to be on the phone. She’d said all the things to him he needed to hear. She just hoped he’d heard.

  The diner was empty except for her and Brooke. Wade had made a few trips in and out. He wouldn’t leave until she did.

  Her phone blared again, and she looked over at the screen, hoping that maybe Morgan was calling back. Instead, it was another weather alert. The loud, piercing tones echoed around the room.

  “What’s that?” Brooke looked up from her third grilled cheese sandwich.

  “A weather alert.”

  “Oh.” The girl fell silent, looking at the dragon. “Do Lanara and I gotta go?”

  Tara sat on the stool next to Brooke. “That depends. Where are you going?”

  Tara watched Brooke slowly, deliberately put the remainder of her sandwich on the plate. She looked out the windows, her eyes wide. “To Jimmy’s?”

  Why would the girl ask that as a question? “Do you want to go to Jimmy’s? I can take you.”

  The girl stared at the crust on the plate. Slowly, she shook her head, her now-dry ponytails bouncing against her shoulders.

  The weather alert went off again. Could it possibly be more insistent? The phone’s screen filled with a map of the county and the words flood warning scrolled across it.

  Wade came out of the kitchen then, and even his usually calm, weathered face looked alarmed. “We need to get going, Tara. I’m disconnecting the gas and turning off the stove.”

  “I’m not going until you do.” She met his eyes.

  “I’m right behind you,” he assured her. “That creek is at the top of the banks. It’s going over, and soon.”

  “Will the sandbags hold?” All the work Wyatt’s men had put in had to hold. It had to keep her dream safe.

  “I don’t know.” Wade disappeared into the kitchen and returned carrying her jacket and her purse. The man was serious. He’d never touch her purse otherwise. He’d pulled on his own jacket. “Let’s go. You, too, little one.” He roughly grabbed the stuffed dragon and lifted Brooke off the stool.

  He didn’t really give Tara much choice, and the next shrill of the phone made her hustle ahead of him. She unlocked the passenger door of her car and they got Brooke strapped into the seat, Lanara settled safely on her lap.

  “I’m scared.” Brooke’s eyes shone in the darkness.

  “You’ll be fine, kiddo,” Wade assured her, snapping the seat belt tight. “Miss Tara’ll get you to a safe place. Now be strong for that dragon. Don’t worry her.”

  “You’re a good man, Wade.” Tara hugged her cook. “Now, get out of here.” His pickup was a few feet away from her little car.

  “Not until I get that gas line off. Then, I’m out of here. Get going.” He almost buckled her in, as well, closing the driver’s door behind her. He didn’t wait for her to turn out of the parking lot before he was sprinting into the diner. She trusted him and knew he’d take care of everything. She just prayed he’d also take care of himself.

  As she drove past the alley, she saw the water slipping over the creek’s bank, heading toward the back door of the diner. Her dream. Was she seeing the beginning of the end?

  “Where are we going?” Brooke whispered, hugging Lanara tight, her face against the worn fabric of the dragon.

  Tara thought about taking Brooke to her apartment, but in the most recent warning, the big red field had covered the entire town. All of it would be at risk.

  “Would you like to come with me to my brother’s ranch?” Tara asked carefully. That would be one of the safest places in the county. The old ranch house sat up on the hill that overlooked most of the valley.
Outside the warning zone.

  “Can I go with you, please?” Brooke asked so softly, so politely.

  “Of course.” The whisper of uncertainty was so strong in her voice. Tara wished she could reach over and hug the little girl tight. She wanted to strangle Sylvie. How dare she leave Brooke on her own, leave her to the mercy of the elements like this? Tara tried not to think uncharitable thoughts, like maybe she deserved to be worried out of her mind about the girl not being where she could find her.

  What if something happened to Sylvie? How would Brooke react? What would Sylvie have done if Brooke hadn’t found her way to the diner, to the company of someone who actually took care of her? Tara’s mind filled with all the horrors that could happen to a little girl wandering the streets of any town.

  Suddenly, she understood all too clearly why Morgan did what he did, trying to find her.

  “Do you know how to dial a cell phone?” she asked Brooke. The girl came out of her fear long enough to give her one of those stupid-adult looks. “Okay, yeah, I know. My phone is in that side pocket of my purse. Can you get it out?”

  The girl nodded and reached for the phone. It looked so big in her tiny hands. “Who are we calling? My mom?”

  “Well, actually I want you to call your dad.”

  “My dad?” The girl stared at her, wide-eyed. Tara hadn’t told her she knew Morgan. She hadn’t been sure what her or Sylvie’s reaction would be.

  “Yeah. His number is in my list.” Thank God she’d thought to put it in her phone after calling him. “See that button on the bottom? Push it twice.” The girl was six, and Tara didn’t know how much she could read. Brooke turned the screen toward Tara, who was afraid to look away from the road.

  The rain was coming down so thick she could barely see beyond the bumper. It was going to take forever for them to drive the miles to the ranch at this rate. She didn’t care if it took all night. They needed to get there safe.

  She hastily glanced away. “See that one that starts with the letter M?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Push that button.”

  She could see out of the corner of her eye that the line was ringing. Hopefully, they were calling Morgan.

  “Hello,” his familiar voice filled the interior of the car.

  “Daddy?”

  “Brooke?” Even here, through the sound of the pounding rain, Tara heard the joy and pain in his voice.

  “I’m with the diner lady.”

  Dear heaven, Tara wondered if she’d told the kid her name. She’d gotten in the car with her. Who else would she have gone with? Damn, Sylvie.

  “What? I can’t hear you. Where are you?” There was controlled desperation in his voice. The connection wasn’t any better than before. She had to tell him where they were going, hope he got something.

  “It’s Tara. We’re going to Wyatt’s ranch. Brooke’s with me. Wyatt’s ranch.”

  “Where?” he yelled.

  “The ranch. Wyatt’s ranch.”

  He didn’t say anything more. Dear God, she hoped he was okay. Hoped she hadn’t scared him more than she’d explained. But she would keep Brooke safe until she could get them together. Brooke deserved it.

  Begrudgingly, she realized so did he. He’d spent a year looking for this little girl.

  “Daddy?” Brooke held the phone close to her mouth. “Daddy?”

  “The storm probably messed up the call.” Tara tried to sound upbeat. “He’ll meet us at my brother’s house.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m positive.” Oh, he’d be there. She was sure of it. She just wasn’t sure when. “We’ll be safe there until he comes to find us,” she said to the windshield, leaning forward, hoping to see more clearly. They crept along the two-lane highway, away from town, away from the winding path of the creeks and rivers that meandered through town. Up the Texas hills to the ranch house that she’d always considered safe. Home.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  WIND BUFFETED THE RIG, howling around the cab and making Morgan tighten his hands on the wheel. Gusts had to be hurricane strength, which wasn’t unheard of in this part of Texas but not something he wanted to be out in.

  The windshield wipers could barely keep up with the rain. He struggled to keep his gaze trained on the lines he had to remain between. Thankfully, few vehicles were coming this way since the headlights were blinding on the water-covered glass.

  Morgan wanted to get to Haskins Corners tonight, but that was looking more and more like stupidity at this point. His frustration grew.

  Brooke was with Tara. Would she stay there? He couldn’t lose her again. Hurrying would be dangerous, and in reality, he should pull over under the next overpass. Soon, he wouldn’t have a choice. It was all the cover he’d find out here.

  He turned off his stereo and flipped on the radio. It might be static, but he’d find a weather report somehow. He’d tried his phone a while ago, and the storm must have knocked out at least one cell tower. He had battery power, but not much else.

  Old, twangy country music crackled through the speakers. Yep, he’d get reports on this channel—he just had to listen to this stuff in between. Finally, the noise came to a halt and a man’s voice came on. “It’s a stormin’ out there tonight, folks. Hope you’re home safe and not out on the roads. The state patrol has just issued a high-profile vehicle restriction until 10:00 p.m. tonight. That means you boys out in them eighteen-wheelers need to pull over.

  “Take cover if you can. It’s gonna be a long wait. Could be a while before this one blows through.”

  The disc jockey somewhere in musicland pushed a switch and another lovesick fool started crooning through the speakers. Morgan switched it off, not bothering to turn his stereo back on.

  Morgan knew this road, and it was too flat and open. He’d be better off stopped, without the momentum of the truck to add to the storm’s strength, but the next overpass was several miles ahead. Maybe he could find a hill.

  He inched along, not seeing much beyond the headlight’s beam. A gust caught the back end of the truck, and Morgan felt it slip. He struggled to balance the weight of the truck against the slide.

  Stopped out here in the open was better than sliding off the road. Slowly, he applied the brakes, hoping to bring it to a halt quickly, but not too quickly.

  He felt another gust yank at the back end. He hard-corrected, knowing he was doing the right thing, knowing that he could pull the truck into control if he timed everything right. He cursed, feeling the pull of inertia and doing everything he could to fight it.

  The headlight beams found the edge of the road, found the soft shoulder that was just as soaked as the pavement, maybe worse as the rivers of water ran off the asphalt. Thick grass grew at the edge of the narrow strip of road, and he hoped there weren’t any fences or steep drop-offs he couldn’t see in the darkness.

  His heart pounded against his ribs. His arms strained, but he hadn’t tipped and he wasn’t spinning. Not yet. A crack of lightning cut across the sky, blinding him for an instant, time he didn’t have to spare.

  Thunder rumbled in tune with the big tires hitting gravel, and just as he felt the truck respond to his commands, his vision returned. A stretch of barbed wire appeared ahead.

  He had to hope he’d planned enough time to stop as he hit the brakes harder and hung on. If he hadn’t, this was going to be a bumpy ride.

  * * *

  THE BIG RANCH house was lit up, with nearly every light in the place on. Who all was here?

  Brooke had fallen asleep on the drive, her small head resting on top of the dragon’s. She looked adorable, and if the girl hadn’t been holding so tight to her phone in case Morgan called back, Tara would have snapped a picture for him.

  Tara hated to wake her, so she quietly opened the car door. The ra
in wasn’t much more than a light mist here, but it was still cold. She grabbed what she’d need and hurried around the hood of the car.

  Carefully, she opened the passenger door, gently disengaging the seat belt and scooping the girl and her dragon up in her arms. Brooke barely stirred, laying her head trustingly on Tara’s shoulder.

  She hurried up the walk and wasn’t even surprised when she reached the veranda and Wyatt was holding the screen door open for her.

  He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with curiosity and a raised eyebrow.

  The house was full, and Tara was surprised Brooke didn’t wake up. Was she okay? She thought about putting her in one of the half dozen spare rooms to sleep, but knew her waking up in a strange place would not be good.

  Instead, she went to the couch and sat, Brooke still snuggled close. “Hey, Brooke,” she said softly, pulling away from the girl.

  Brooke clung tight, and Tara realized she wasn’t asleep, not really. “It’s okay,” Tara said. “This is a safe place.”

  Brooke still didn’t let go, but she turned her head to look at Tara. “Where are we?” she whispered.

  “Remember, I told you we were coming to my brother’s house? We’re here.”

  “Oh.” Still, Brooke didn’t move.

  “This is Wyatt.” She turned so Brooke could see him without moving.

  Wyatt, being the man he was who was always good with kids, leaned closer. “Hi. Nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

  “Brooke.”

  “Hello, Brooke. Welcome to my house.”

  Brooke still clung tight to the dragon and her arm squeezed Tara’s neck. “He’s tall,” she whispered. “My daddy’s tall, too.”

  Tara figured almost everyone was tall from the little girl’s perspective, but she didn’t tell her that. “Wyatt knows your daddy.” Maybe that would help ease Brooke’s discomfort.

  “He does?”