“Yada yada?” A smile tickled his lips.
She waved her hand. “You know what I mean. I think you’ll be a great mayor, and you’ll do good things for the town. So I want to help.” Tate had to win the election. If he lost, it’d be just one more hurdle for him in forgiving Tucker.
Tate nodded. “All right. I like the positive plan. Thanks, sis.”
The waitress set down their plates just as a shadow crossed the table.
Tara looked up, surprise stilling her. “Uncle Chase,” she said. While her mother had called to let her know that he was back in town, she hadn’t expected to see him so soon.
He nodded. “Tara. Tate.”
Tate glanced her way, indecision in his eyes. “Um, would you like to join us?”
Tara smiled. The guy was their uncle, and they weren’t betraying their dad by having lunch with him. “Please join us.”
Chase looked at both of them and then slowly nodded. “That’s kind of you.”
Tara moved over in the booth. Her uncle had visited periodically through the years, usually while passing through town to get to a gig somewhere. Her dad held some definite anger for his rambling brother, but the guy had always seemed a little lost to her, and his adventures on the road intrigued her. It had been a surprise when he’d shown up again. “Would you like half of my burger?”
Chase ran a hand through his graying hair and eyed the burger. “No, thanks. I just came in for a cup of tea.” He nodded when the waitress set it down. “Ordered at the counter.”
Tea? Since when did her freewheeling, blues playing, rambling uncle drink tea? Last time he was in town, he’d had a beer with breakfast. Tara peered at the bag. Herbal tea? “You should eat something,” she said, cutting her burger in two.
Chase held his cup, his bony hands dotted with liver spots. “Thanks, honey, but I’m really not hungry.” He took a sip.
“All right.” Tara dipped the burger in ketchup and took a healthy bite. “How long are you staying in town, Uncle Chase?”
He set down the cup. “I’m not sure. It’s time to stop moving around, and this is home, so maybe I’ll stay.”
Tate paused in taking a bite. “Really?”
Chase nodded. “Yeah, if your dad wants me to stay. I could help around the ranch a little.”
Tate cut Tara a look.
She ignored him. “It’s nice to have you home, and I’m sure Dad would appreciate the assistance.” Right. Their father had never spoken poorly about his brother, but he sure hadn’t said anything nice, either. Not for the first time, Tara wondered what the entire story had been. One brother had left to chase unicorns, and the other had planted deep in the soil in Storm.
Either way, it was time for the brothers to make up. She could only handle so much strife in the family, and it was Tate and Tucker’s turn, apparently. “Maybe you could help Tate, too.”
Tate frowned.
She kicked him under the table.
He pressed his lips together and gave her a glare before smoothing out his expression. “If you’re staying in town, I could use help on my campaign. Maybe you could play at a rally or something.”
Tara nodded enthusiastically. “That’s a fantastic idea.”
Chase took another drink of his fragrant tea. “I may put the guitar up, kids. It’s time to do something else, I think.”
Tara’s mouth dropped open. The few times she’d seen her uncle through the years, he’d always played the guitar at the slightest hint. She frowned at her brother, and Tate shrugged.
Bootsteps sounded. Tara looked up to see her father. “Dad.” She forced a smile, her heart rate increasing.
Zeke looked at his brother, Tate, and then Tara. “What’s going on?”
“Lunch.” Tara gestured toward the seat across from Chase. If awkward had hands, it held her in its grip. “Join us.”
Zeke frowned but sat across from his brother. “I had to buy feed and just came in for some coffee before heading back to the ranch.” He waved at the waitress behind the counter, who nodded.
“Oh. Tate and I were talking about his campaign, and Uncle Chase came in to get tea.” For some reason, Tara felt the need to explain why she was sitting next to Chase. How weird was that?
Zeke turned to his son. “Stop getting in fistfights and ending up in jail and I’m sure you’ll win your election.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Tate drawled, shoving his basket of fries toward his dad. “Have a fry. I won’t tell mom.”
Tara bit back a smile. Their mom had been after their dad to watch his cholesterol for several years. “I won’t tell, either.” She nudged her basket toward the middle of the table, hoping Chase would eat as well.
Chase craned his neck toward the door and then stiffened. His teacup rattled.
Tara kept still as Anna Mae, Rita Mae, and Mary Louise Prager all strode by toward a booth in the back. Anna Mae looked stylish in dark pants and a green sweater, appearing much younger than her late sixties. Her eyes widened as she approached. “Chase?” she asked.
Chase half stood. “Hi, Anna Mae.”
Anna Mae swung her gaze to Zeke. “And Zeke.” She put her hand to her throat.
What in the world? Tara looked at her dad.
Zeke cleared his throat. “Afternoon, ladies.”
Anna Mae paled, making her powdery skin look almost see-through. “When did you get back in town?” she asked Chase.
“Just the other day,” Chase said.
Anna Mae focused back on Zeke, a vein pulsing in her neck. “You’re letting him stay at your house? At the ranch?”
Zeke slowly nodded.
Rita Mae, wearing a bright yellow hat, shoved her younger sister in the back with a bony finger topped by a fluorescent blue fingernail. “Move it, Anna Mae. I’m starving and need to eat before I take my echinacea.” Once her sister hurriedly turned and started for the booth, Rita Mae glared at Chase through thick mascara. “Time for you to ramble on again.” With her nose in the air, she followed her sister.
Mary Louise watched her aunts leave, her eyes wide. “Um, sorry about that.” She kept her gaze down.
Tara reached out and patted her hand. “How are you, Mary Louise?”
“Fine.” The woman had reddish blonde hair and stunning blue eyes, but she didn’t seem to own a mirror or have any idea how beautiful she really was. “Um, how are you?”
“I’m great. In fact, I wanted to talk to you about helping with a project at the church.” Tara thought fast and on the spot. It was time to get Mary Louise out of her shell, and a political campaign was the way to do it.
Mary Louise looked up. “I’d love to help.” Her gaze slid to the other side of the table and to Tate. A pretty pink blush spread beneath her flawless skin. “What’s the project?”
Tara smiled. “I’ll explain at our meeting tomorrow night.”
“Mary Louise?” Rita Mae bellowed from the back booth. “Get away from those Johnson boys. They’re nothing but trouble.”
Mary Louise gasped and then turned. “It was nice to see you, and we’ll talk tomorrow night.” She scurried after the elderly ladies.
Tara lifted an eyebrow and caught her father’s eye. “Johnson boys?”
“Rita Mae likes to yammer. You know her.” He blushed. “That Mary Louise is a shy one. Probably because her father up and abandoned her so many years ago.” He glared at his brother. “Another musician. Aren’t you friends with good ole Nicky George Prager?”
Chase sighed. “Nick hates it when people call him Nicky George, and yes, we’re friends. We played a concert together in Daytona about five years ago, and it was a packed house all three nights. I haven’t seen him in a few years, though.”
Tara fought the urge to kick her father and tell him to be nice to his brother. Life was too danged short. What was the story with Anna Mae? Oh, she was going to have to do some digging, now wasn’t she? Her phone buzzed, and she read a text message from Bryce.
She sighed.
“What?�
� Tate asked.
“I’m needed at home,” she said brightly, when all she wanted to do was relax for an hour or several. But at least Bryce was trying, and they were on the same page with the kids. She could forgive his short tempered text telling her that he needed to get to work and finish his sermon for the next day.
As she scooted from the booth, she gave a nod to her brother, uncle, and father. Everyone said women were hard to figure out, but as she glanced at the three males all looking anywhere but at each other, she scoffed at the idea.
Men were weird.
Chapter Eight
Bryce Douglas loved Mondays. The church was quiet, people were busy, and only a few folks needed his counsel. His heart started each Monday light and full…and as the day wore on, the heaviness set back in.
By the time he made it home around five in the afternoon, he was in the dark place again.
Sure, the sun might be shining, the clouds finally gone, but he felt the darkness.
Forcing his lips to curve into a smile, he walked toward his front door, then sat for a moment on the stoop. For several precious moments, he just sat there and centered himself.
Sometimes he said a prayer.
Often he didn’t.
The door was flung open, and Tara rushed outside, the phone to her ear. Panic covered her pretty face.
He jumped to his feet, his heart thundering.
She clicked off. “Danny got out.” Her body whirled, nearly vibrating as she tried to take in the entire area. “I was upstairs on the computer, and the door was locked. Bolted. When I came down, he was gone.”
Bryce grasped her arms and kept his voice calm. “Where did you look?”
“All over.” Her voice rose. “In the backyard and around the square. I don’t even know how long he’s been gone.”
“It’s okay.” Fear gripped Bryce, but he remained calm for her sake.
Carol walked out onto the porch, holding her pink teddy bear. “Daddy?”
Tara half turned. “Honey? I need you to tell us when you unlocked the door.”
Carol looked past her mother, her eyes open wide. “Daddy, I didn’t unlock the door.”
She had to have done it. Bryce released Tara and moved toward his little girl, dropping to his haunches. “Sweetie? It’s a sin to lie, remember? You have to tell the truth.”
Her bottom lip quivered.
Bryce said a quick prayer to the God he’d dedicated his life to. “All right, honey. When did Danny leave?”
Carol hugged her bear closer. “I dunno.” Her gaze landed on his knees.
He patted her shoulder. “Were you watching television?”
“Uh huh.”
“What show? Do you remember?” he asked as Tara came up behind him. Her fear somehow overwhelmed his senses, even though he didn’t turn to look at her.
Carol scrunched up her face. “I think the pony cartoon was on.”
Tara gasped. “That was nearly an hour ago. Oh God. A whole hour.”
Bryce stood and faced her. “Take a deep breath, honey. We’ll find him. He’s wandered off before, and we’ve always found him.” He had to stay calm, and finally, he could do something. “I promise.” He drew her into his body, in control, his mind calculating a plan. “First, we—”
A blue compact pulled up, and Tara turned her head.
Sara Jane Salt, Danny’s teacher, jumped out of the driver’s side and crossed around the car to open the back door. “Did you guys lose somebody?”
Danny barreled out and ran for Tara.
Tara hugged him with a happy cry and then released him.
Bryce ducked down and gave his son a hug.
Danny quickly backed away and then turned for the house. “I’m hungry. I want goldfish.” He moved past Carol and went right inside. The little girl followed him, her bear clutched to her side.
Bryce couldn’t breathe.
Sara Jane shut the car door and gracefully strode toward him, a smile brightening her girl-next-door face. In her early twenties, the teacher had gray eyes and light brown hair. She wore a flowered skirt with a flimsy blouse that fluttered in the slight breeze.
Tara ran forward and hugged her.
“Hey,” Sara Jane laughed. “It’s okay. Really.”
Tara released the young woman. “Where was he? I was so scared.”
Bryce forced his legs into motion and walked toward the teacher. “Thank you so much, Sara Jane. We owe you.”
Sara Jane waved her hand in dismissal. “It’s fine, really. I was driving home and saw Danny picking weeds on the side of the road about a mile from here.”
“A mile?” Tara swayed.
Bryce slipped an arm around her waist, tucking her into his side. “He got that far?”
“Kids are inquisitive,” Sara Jane said easily.
“I don’t know what to do,” Tara whispered, her voice thick with tears. “I know that Carol let him out on purpose.”
Sara Jane nodded. “Probably. It’s tough being seven with an autistic sibling. She’s just acting out for attention, which is normal.” The teacher tapped her finger on her lips. “Why don’t you enroll her in the after-school play group at the library? I’m one of the organizers and I’m there with the kids several times each week. We spend a lot of time painting, reading, and working on individual voices.”
Bryce shook his head. “Isn’t that group for nine- and ten-year-olds. Carol is only seven.”
“Exactly.” Sara Jane clapped her hands together. “Think how special she’ll feel doing activities with the big girls.”
“We can’t ask that of you or the group leaders. She’s seven and needs more attention than the older girls,” Bryce said, his gut aching.
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” Sara Jane reached out and smacked his arm. “Seriously. You’re a great pastor, and you’re there for every member of the church. Why not let some of us be there for you? I’d love to work with Carol, anyway.”
Something uncoiled inside Bryce. Hope? He was supposed to be strong, and his job was to help people. Yet suddenly, accepting help didn’t seem wrong. “Thank you,” he said.
“You bet.” Sara Jane winked at Tara and turned back for her car. “See you guys later.”
Tara turned into Bryce’s chest and took several shuddering breaths. Her phone buzzed, and she fumbled, grabbing for it. “Mom? Yeah, everything is fine. Sara Jane found Danny and brought him home.” Tara listened for a moment. “I’m sure. I’ll call you later.” She hung up.
Bryce ran a hand down her back. “You okay?”
She leaned away from him. “No.” Tears slid down her smooth cheeks. “I’m not okay. I try, and I try so hard, and I don’t tell you half of it, but no, I’m not okay.”
Unfortunately, she made sense right now. He knew she kept some of the information about Danny from him. She’d hear of a new way of dealing with autism, a new diet, a new series of vitamins, and she’d work it all out without him. And he had let her. On purpose. “So tell me.”
“I can’t.” She steeled her shoulders and stepped away from him.
The instant coldness surrounding him nearly made him gasp. “Why not?”
She looked him directly in the eye. “You’re too busy being mad at God to help me out.”
He sucked in air. “I’m not mad at God.” Somehow, his voice remained level.
She put her hands on her hips. “The hell you’re not. You’ve been angry with God since we first thought something was different about Danny. You, of all people.”
Anger threatened to choke him, and he lost it. “This isn’t God’s fault, damn it.”
Her eyes widened.
Had he ever sworn at her? Probably not. Crass language brought back bad memories of his childhood and his insane mother. “It’s my fault,” he whispered.
She drew back. “Yours?”
“Yes.” So much emotion rolled through him, he couldn’t breathe.
Her shoulders sagged, and when she spoke her voice was gentle
. “Bryce, we’ve talked about this. It’s not your fault.”
“But it is. My family has problems. Mental ones. My mom’s in a psych ward, as you know. This, Danny, is my fault.”
“It’s not. You know it’s not.”
He did know that. But it didn’t matter. The words felt true. He was a man, he was a father, and this family was his responsibility. Worse yet, sometimes he felt embarrassment being in public with his autistic son when Danny made a scene.
Which made him a horrific parent—just like his mother had been.
His throat actually started to close.
“Oh, Bryce.” She came toward him then, and not away. “I understand.”
“No.” Nobody could understand.
She smiled though her tears. “I mourn for the kid he could’ve been. The star athlete, the president, the famous talk show host.”
Bryce paused.
“That’s okay, and that’s normal. It’s all right to wonder.” She pressed both hands to his face, her face so full of love and understanding, he knew in that second he’d never truly deserve her. “I can’t stand the pitying looks I get sometimes, or the wide-eyed, trying-to-understand looks. Sometimes I wish it was all different.”
“You do?” His voice cracked.
“Sure.” She rubbed her thumbs along his jaw. “But then I look at Danny. I see his potential and his huge heart and creativity. I have no idea what he’ll do, but I know it’ll be inspired and amazing. God gave him to me, and God gave him to us. We’re lucky to have him…the real him.”
Bryce swallowed. “I want to be okay with him.”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.” Which was the absolute truth. He loved Danny with everything he’d ever be.
Tara smiled. “So do I. Just the way he is. And he is who he is, not because of your mother or genetics. Danny is exactly who he’s supposed to be.”
Now that was faith.
Tara leaned in and kissed him. “There are so many miracles with Danny. Every week, there’s a miracle. How blessed we are to witness that.”
Against the Wind, Season 2, Episode 1 (Rising Storm) Page 6