by Cat Johnson
With one loud sniffle, Luke released his mother’s hand and took his father’s in his. It remained limp in his grasp. One more indication the strongest man he’d ever known was gone.
“Hey, Dad. It’s Luke. I’m here. Um, sorry I took so long, but I did real good this competition. I placed third. Made some good money.” Luke figured his father, being a practical man, would appreciate knowing that. Now what? How in the world did you say goodbye forever? He couldn’t. All he could say was, “I love you.”
He squeezed his father’s hand one last time and then took a step back and looked for his mother. She gave him a weak, watery smile and nodded.
A nurse and a doctor Luke hadn’t noticed enter the room stepped forward, toward the equipment, and Luke’s world changed forever.
Luke woke up in his own bed in the room he’d had since birth. Some things had changed over the years. The cowboy wallpaper from his youth had long ago been painted over. The wall was covered instead with pictures of him in competition and buckles he’d won framed in shadowboxes. Some things, like the old maple dresser handed down from his grandparents’ time, remained the same. It showed the deep patina that comes with age.
But now that his father was gone, everything seemed different.
Chris had driven him and his mother home from the hospital late last night. It had felt wrong to leave his father there, though Luke supposed he wouldn’t be alone for long. It wouldn’t be long before the funeral home came to get him. Chris’s father, Jack Collins, had called the family who owned the only funeral parlor in town and asked them to handle the arrangements. Chris had dated their daughter for a while.
Small town indeed.
That was a blessing right now. The town was small, and his family was a well-known fixture among the townspeople. That meant news traveled fast and most knew everything that had happened already. There was no need to make phone calls to tell anyone. Thank God for that. Luke didn’t have it in him, and he wouldn’t have felt right leaving the task to his mother alone.
Emotionally exhausted, Luke had forgone eating a late dinner. Instead, he’d taken a quick shower, which he hadn’t had the time for after the competition. As Luke had let the scalding water pound into his back, the championship round he’d ridden in that day felt like months ago, not just hours. He’d fallen into bed and, amazingly, had slept, even though he’d feared he’d never be able to sleep again.
It didn’t take but a moment for reality to creep back in as he woke now. Memories of the day before and dread for all yet to come filled him and had Luke wishing he could close his eyes, pull the covers over his head and make it all go away. Instead, he rose from bed, threw a flannel shirt over the T-shirt he’d slept in, and pulled a pair of jeans over his boxer shorts.
The shearling-lined slippers his parents had given him for Christmas last year sat on the floor next to the bed. He shoved his feet in those to combat the chill in the bare wooden floorboards and shuffled to the kitchen.
He smelled the coffee and nearly groaned with need. In the kitchen he found a counter strewn with cakes, pies and muffins that had his stomach grumbling and reminded Luke that even if he didn’t feel like eating, he needed to.
His mother stood next to the coffee pot, his father’s favorite mug in her hand. The family and any regular guests in the house knew that mug belonged to Charles Carpenter, and no one else dared use it.
She looked up at him with glistening eyes, before she let out a short, teary laugh. “I just almost poured a cup of coffee for your father. It’s such a habit after all these years—” She shook her head.
Luke took her in his arms and felt her trembling. “It’s okay. I’m sure he’s looking down at us and appreciating the thought.”
He felt her nod against his chest before she pulled back, visibly gathering her composure. She reached up, replaced his father’s mug in the usual spot and grabbed the one next to it. She filled it with steaming hot coffee and handed it to Luke, then went back for a second mug for herself as if nothing had happened.
“Thanks.” He took a gulp of coffee that burned its way all the way down his throat. His gaze hit on the rows of baked goods lining the kitchen. “So, ah, where did all this stuff come from?”
His mother shrugged. “Just about everyone in town I guess. Half of it was here last night when we got home from the hospital. The rest was here this morning by the time I got up.”
The doors of his family’s house were never locked. That was obviously common knowledge among friends who’d wanted to drop something off but not disturb them. Funny how people thought sweets would make the loss of his father any easier.
His mother took a long sip of coffee and stared at the counter. “So generous of them all. It will come in handy when everyone comes back to the house after the funeral. I don’t think I would have had it in me to bake right now. I’ll have to remember to borrow Marge’s coffee urn though. Our little pot won’t make enough for all those people who’ll want to come back here after they pay their respects. Your father was a popular man.”
Luke watched his mother in amazement. Right before his eyes she’d transformed from a woman crying over a coffee mug after suffering the greatest loss in her life, to a calm, organized hostess. It was then Luke realized how many things needed to be handled and how clueless he’d been about it all. Suddenly the ridiculous amount of cakes made sense. Apparently the women in town knew they’d need them. They were helping his mother.
Meanwhile, he just wanted to punch something. Or jump on a horse and ride until he couldn’t think about it all anymore. Instead, he’d have to find something appropriate to wear to his father’s wake and funeral, and then serve cake and coffee to half the town afterward.
Maybe people clung to these post-mortem traditions because without them the grieving would make them lock themselves away and slowly go crazy.
Life went on. It had to. He had to. They all did.
The back door swung open and Chris walked in. “Do I smell coffee?”
“Morning, Chris. Let me get you a cup.” His mother opened the cabinet for another mug.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’d be mighty grateful. It’s chilly out there this morning.” He hung his hat on the hook by the back door and blew into his cupped hands.
Reality hit Luke hard and he smothered a curse. He’d forgotten all about feeding the stock. Life certainly did go on, and their herd of cattle and the horses didn’t care what his family was going through. They needed food and water. “I better get out there—”
Chris held up his hand. “No need. It’s done. They’re all fed and watered.”
His mother laid a hand on Chris’s forearm. “But you took care of them for us yesterday and you have the herd at your own place to tend to.”
He shook his head. “Dad can handle the chores alone at our place for a bit.”
That’s what Luke had thought, that his father could handle it alone while he was on the road competing. He’d been wrong. Luke needed to get on a computer and look up this brain thing and see what had caused it or if it could have been prevented.
“You should have let me do it, Chris. I’m back now. It’s my responsibility.”
“Luke. Come on. It was no problem. Really. You can help me with the afternoon chores if you feel that badly about it.” Chris grinned good-naturedly.
Right now it didn’t seem to Luke as if he would ever be able to smile or joke again. He knew he would one day, but not today.
A banging on the door knocked Luke right out of his thoughts. He glanced up. No one knocked around there, as evidenced by the rows of pastries that had mysteriously appeared on the counter and the fact that Chris had let himself in as well. Being closest to the door, Chris pulled it open and there stood Lilly, her hands full.
She’d been such a fixture at the house while they’d been dating that she looked right in place in the kitchen. She wore an apologetic expression and carried in something big and covered in tin foil in her hands. “I’m so sorry. It
’s not too early to stop by, is it?”
“No, sweetie. Not at all. Let me take that.” Luke’s mother stepped forward and relieved Lilly of her burden.
“That’s a lasagna my mom made for you. We thought you could use some real food to eat.” Her gaze swept the sweets. “There’s a big pot of chili on the floor in the truck too. I just couldn’t carry it all in one trip.”
Luke took a step forward but Chris held up his hand.
“I’ll get it.” Chris was through the door in an instant.
If everyone kept doing everything for him, Luke would have nothing to do to get his mind off what had happened, if that was possible.
The pan stashed on the shelf of the fridge, Luke’s mother turned back to Lilly, her eyes looking misty. “That’s so sweet. Thank you for bringing it over. I’ll call your mom right now and thank her. I need to ask her about borrowing her big coffee urn anyway for after the… I’ll call her now.”
Luke’s mother had revealed she wasn’t as calm about this all as she appeared if a lasagna had nearly brought her to tears. More than likely it was the kindness and generosity being shown to them by all the Collinses that were getting to her. Luke was finding that himself. The nicer people were during this impossibly difficult time, the harder it was to handle.
Now here stood Lilly. His first true love and the girl the entire town had thought he’d one day marry. He didn’t want her pity. He wasn’t sure he could handle her kindness. Unfortunately, he had no choice.
“Hi.” He stepped forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Hi.” She moved close and threw her arms around him.
Her long, straight hair lay in a brown curtain down her back, so familiar to Luke. It should be nice to be surrounded by the familiar to balance out the rest of his world falling apart, but for some reason he wasn’t feeling like that right now with Lilly. Things felt strained.
She squeezed him tightly and spoke into his chest. “I’m so sorry about your father.” She pulled back and glanced up at him with eyes that clearly showed her sorrow. “Are you okay?” She spoke the last in a whisper, only meant for him.
He nodded, not knowing what to answer to her question. He gave her one final squeeze and released her just as Chris walked through the doorway. Chris glanced from Lilly to Luke then dumped the pot on the table, the only area free of sweets, and began backing toward the door again. “Um, I guess I should be getting back to our place.”
“No. Stay. Sit and finish your coffee. Let’s see what we’ve got here for breakfast.” Luke didn’t want to be alone right now. He definitely didn’t want to be alone with Lilly either. They hadn’t seen each other one-on-one since the day they’d broken up. He couldn’t take any more emotional stuff right now. Sitting with two friends he’d known forever though, that he could handle.
“Coffee, Lilly?” Luke offered. Good old hospitality always helped to fill the silence.
“No. I’m all right, thanks.” She remained standing awkwardly by the table.
Maybe she could feel how hard it was for them to be normal around each other now. Maybe she felt the same way about being alone with him. Luke pulled a chair out for her and she sat. It would just take time, he guessed, like everything else. One more thing to deal with.
He brought the pot over to top off Chris’s cup and his own. Then he grabbed a plate covered in muffins under plastic wrap and carried it to the table.
“These look good.” He concentrated on unwrapping them until he glanced up and saw both Chris and Lilly staring at him. “Look. I’m fine. At least as well as I can be under the circumstances. Mom and I will get through this funeral and then we’ll work on the rest after that.”
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” Lilly asked softly.
Luke let out a short laugh. “I haven’t thought much past this muffin and coffee.”
Chris leaned forward in his chair. “Well, whatever you need from me, you know you’ve got it.”
“Me too.” Lilly reached out and laid a hand over Luke’s.
If they kept being so nice and offering to do everything for him, he’d never be able to get back to feeling normal. He’d need his regular routine for that. Riding would feel so good right about now. Nothing but the bull and him.
Luke picked off a piece of his muffin. He shoved a bite in his mouth. It tasted bland. Not the baker’s fault. He doubted he’d appreciate anything right now. He put the muffin down on the table and swallowed another gulp of bracing black coffee.
Chris eyed him critically. “When’s the last time you ate?”
He thought about it. “Um. Yesterday before I rode.” After rolling out of Annie’s bed late, he’d showered then run downstairs and shoved some lukewarm chafing dish eggs in his mouth from the free breakfast buffet in the hotel lobby.
“Dude. You need to eat.”
“I’m not really that hungry.” Luke’s stomach, woken up from the coffee and small amount of baked goods he’d sent its way, grumbled loudly.
Chris raised a brow and then stood. “I’m cooking us a real breakfast.”
“Really. You don’t—”
“Stop. Don’t say a word. A chili omelet with a side of hot sauce is exactly what we both need on a cold morning like this.”
Lilly made a face at Chris’s suggestion as she watched him pull an iron skillet out of the cabinet. “Only you two could have chili and hot sauce for breakfast.”
“Won’t be the first time, and I doubt it’ll be the last.” Chris laughed and lobbed a lump of butter into the skillet.
Chris and Lilly bickering as usual, the smells of fresh coffee and butter frying on his mother’s stove—maybe this was the way to heal the gaping hole inside him. It sure couldn’t hurt.
Then Luke noticed Lilly’s gaze upon him again. There was something in her expression. Something he didn’t like the looks of. Hope maybe. Hope that they’d get back together, just when Luke had begun to move on with his life.
He glanced up at the ceiling, imagining he could see the heavens from inside where he sat. Lord, what else would he be sent to deal with?
Chapter Seven
Annie took the bill from the kid in front of her and shoved it into the envelope already stuffed with cash. “Thanks, Chase.”
“No problem. I definitely want to contribute. Anything for Luke, you know?” The young bull rider’s face showed his sincerity.
She nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
That had been the case for every one of the riders and even the crew. She had simply suggested they take up a collection for a floral arrangement to be sent to Luke’s father’s funeral and before she knew it, it seemed that everyone and their brother was coming up and handing her cash. At this rate, they’d be able to send quite an impressive arrangement and be able to make a nice donation to a charity in Mr. Carpenter’s name. She thought Luke would like that. Something lasting to honor his father.
“I better get going. The guys and me are heading out in a bit. We’re driving to find a hotel close to Luke’s town so we have a room tonight near the funeral tomorrow morning.”
This brought up the subject that had kept Annie awake all the prior night. “Are a lot of the guys attending?”
“Yeah, quite a few. The ones close to Luke, at least. There are some of the guys who already had booked plane tickets home or had someplace they needed to be and couldn’t get out of, but those of us driving are definitely going.”
Annie nodded. “Well, drive safe, Chase.”
He tipped his hat. “Will do. You do the same.”
She nodded and realized as he walked away she was biting her lip again—her tell. She better never play poker because she knew everything she thought showed clearly on her face.
“You coming to the funeral, darlin’?” Mustang was before her, and she couldn’t miss how his eyes dropped to focus on her gnawing on her own lip.
“Um, I don’t know.”
He frowned. “Why not? What’s the problem?”
Mustang scowled. “Appropriate? It’s a funeral. Most of us are going. You’ve worked with him as long as I have.”
Longer, if she counted the years, which she didn’t like to do when dealing with the riders who were still in their twenties.
“I don’t know.”
He shook his head. “What would you have done before?”
“Before what?” The end of the sentence trailed up a little too high and Annie’s voice sounded fake even in her own ears. She could only imagine how false her innocent act sounded to Mustang. She was definitely not an actress.
Tilting his head to one side, he cocked a brow that spoke his doubt. “You want me to say it out loud?”
She sighed, guessing there was no hiding it but still willing to try. “I’m not admitting anything, but I guess if this had happened a week ago, before you put it in my head I should go for it, thank you very much for that suggestion by the way—” she hoped the sarcasm was clear, “—yeah, I probably would have gone.”
“Then you’re going.”
“But I have plane reservations.”
“Change them. You can drive with Slade and me.”
Now it was her turn to raise her brow. “Oh that will look good.”
“Hey, now that Slade and I both have girlfriends, nobody will think anything of it.”
“I don’t know.” These guys were ladies men, or at least had been until recently.