Sandra smiled and gave Marti a big hug. “Jolly good. We’ll have a do. That’s the way I like to hear you talk.”
“A ‘do’?”
“A party.”
“Hashtag: a girl’s night out.”
Sandra grinned and nodded. When she left, Marti was staring out the window. Sandra would have to put her thinking cap on and figure out a way to persuade Marti to make that trip to Texas.
It meant everything to Marti’s future.
NINE
TEXAS
SIXTY-YEAR-OLD GERALD RUSHING jumped when the back door slammed. He was sitting in the office of his rambling ranch house in Carson, Texas, when he heard Daniel’s call through the hallway.
“Dad?”
“In here, son.”
Daniel’s steps pounded on the kitchen tiles then entered the wide hallway leading to the office.
Gerald squirmed in the antique chair sitting behind the office desk and frowned at the ancient computer keyboard. When Daniel entered the room, Gerald looked up. Frustration pulled his face as tight as a drum.
“What’s wrong, Dad?”
“This crazy computer lost my file again. Why in the world I let you talk me into putting the farm bookkeeping on computer, I’ll never know.”
Daniel grinned then scooted around the desk behind his dad. He punched a couple of keys, clicked in the open folder, and the file Gerald was looking for magically appeared on the screen.
“How did you do that?” Gerald’s eyes opened in surprise.
Daniel hid a grin and moved to the side of the desk. “You’ve gotta stop pushing the ‘delete’ key instead of the ‘enter’ key, Dad.”
Gerald shook his head. “Well, they’re too doggone close on this tiny little keyboard.”
“I told you before—you need to get one of the newer keyboards. The keys are further apart, and it’s much easier to type. I don’t know why you keep that one anyway. The keys are always sticking and the R key stays down half the time. That’s tough when your name has two R’s in it.”
Gerald grunted and pressed the “enter” key to save his file then looked up and pretended he hadn’t heard. “Were you lookin’ for me, son?”
“Aren’t you going to the town meeting about the wildfire?”
“Wouldn’t miss it, but it’s been rescheduled—two hours from now. The fire chief was waylaid checking the fire damage. Bud said the wildfire overran the firebreak on the south side wall—that means it’s headed our way if we don’t get it stopped. Hopefully, the state fire marshal will offer resources he can contribute. Is that what you came in here for, son?”
Gerald watched a furrow grow between Daniel’s eyes. “No, uh . . . I have something to tell you. I . . . I guess Veronica and I finally made a decision.”
Gerald tilted his head to the side and waited.
“We discussed getting married.”
Gerald never moved, but his chest deflated inside his ribs, and his blood felt like it turned cold in his veins. “What do you mean . . . you discussed it?”
“Well, she’s ready, and I guess I am too.”
Gerald leaned back in the groaning chair and studied his son’s face.
“If you ask me, you don’t look too happy about the whole thing.”
Daniel plopped down in the chair opposite his father and ran his hand through his hair. His eyes blinked rapidly.
“It all happened so fast. One minute we’re walking through their stables looking at her horses, and the next thing I know, she’s talking about adding stalls in our barn for her horses after we get married.”
Gerald knew he had to tread lightly. Saying the wrong thing could only push Daniel in the wrong direction. “Daniel, do you love her?”
Daniel rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “I care for her.”
“But, do you love her?”
“We’ve been close for so long, Dad. This is the next step, don’t you think?”
“No, son, I don’t. You need to at least wait until your memory comes back. Two months ago, you could hardly remember Veronica. Two years ago you were still getting over—”
“No, Dad. I don’t want to talk about my ex-wife. Veronica says she was nothing but a slut and an alcoholic.”
“Daniel! Just because she—”
“Stop, Dad! We’ve been through this before. I don’t want to talk about it again. Every time I think about the past, it reminds me of Angie.”
Gerald blew out a pained puff of air. “Daniel, your sister wouldn’t want you to grieve. Angie would be the first to tell you to let it go and get on with your life. She’d want you to be happy. I’m just not sure Veronica—”
“Enough, Dad.” The strained tone of those two words quieted Gerald.
“My marriage was over a long time ago. It’s because of her that Angie’s dead. I want to forget the past and move on with the future. That means giving Veronica and me a chance. She’s the only one I remember from the past. I’ve known her my whole life. We’re comfortable with each other. Our marriage will have a lot better chance of surviving if we’ve been friends for this many years. We like the same things. Besides, Veronica’s right—little Chris needs a father. Today he begged me to be his daddy.”
Gerald started. “What do you mean, his daddy?”
“Well, I know technically he’d be my brother-in-law, but it wouldn’t make a difference to him until he’s older.”
Gerald’s heart was heavy. He recognized that it was probably Chris who was pulling Daniel’s heartstrings instead of Veronica. Daniel’s eyes lit up when he talked about Veronica’s three-year-old brother. Shane and Mary Duke had adopted little Chris, and exactly two years later, Mary had died of a brain tumor. Shane was so devastated by his wife’s death that Veronica took over the mothering role for Chris.
“Have you prayed about this, Daniel?”
“Dad. I told you, I don’t remember all that praying stuff. We never prayed when we were growing up—how am I supposed to remember it now? You might like all that religion, but I want no part of it. Just because you say I ‘got saved’ doesn’t mean I feel it in here.” Daniel placed a fist over his heart.
“You don’t have to feel it to make it real, Daniel. Just pray, and God will bring it all back to you.”
Gerald grimaced as Daniel shut down the conversation with a frown. “Veronica and I are getting married in a month.” With a wave of his hand, and an end-of-discussion look, he walked out the door. Gerald slumped in the chair, defeated.
“Well, Lord, what do I do now?”
He leaned his head back against the chair and thought about Martha. If only she were here, she’d be able to show Daniel what it felt like to be in love.
Suddenly, he sat up. Quickly he pulled open the top drawer and rubbed his face between his thumb and fingers. He should have done this months ago.
TEN
GERALD SAID A QUICK PRAYER when his neighbors grew restless in the sweltering auditorium. Anger was not the solution. They had to work together in order to solve this wildfire problem.
“Hold on, hold on!” The face of the Sander County Fire Chief, Bud Greeson, flushed red as he held both hands in the air and waved them at the men filling half the auditorium. The white shirt of his uniform was dark and sweaty around the armpits and collar.
He waved his right hand and tried to get the attention of the angry crowd. “Please, calm down. I called this meeting to assure everyone that we’re fighting this wildfire with everything we have. Losing your tempers is not the solution.”
Shane Duke stood up and raised his voice to be heard over the others mumbling in the background. “Well, anger is all we have right now, Bud. You said you’re fighting it with everything you have, but that isn’t enough. The fire’s growing every day. It’ll be at Gerald’s in a week or two if we don’t stop it or the wind don’t change. If the wind changes, my farm will be next—or the Mayberry’s. We thought the state fire marshal was coming in to bring us reinforcements. Now we hear he didn’t ev
en care enough to show up.”
Bud drew in a deep breath before he spoke. “I told you Shane, his plane had engine problems. He’ll be here in a day or two.”
Gerald cringed as the crowd grew more restless, then he stood and pushed to the end of the aisle. “Look, Bud. We know you’re trying, but next week might be too late for some of us. Even if the wind changes, it’ll still sweep across somebody’s farm. And a lot more is at stake than a barn or a bunch of sheds—our livelihoods and our homes are in danger. Can you assure us it’ll be stopped before it destroys our lives?”
The crowd mumbled in agreement.
Bud looked tired and deflated. Gerald felt sorry for the man. It looked as if he knew he couldn’t offer a solution. “We’re doing the best we can.” He held his hands, palm up, as if defeated.
Shane’s protest was subdued but firm when he stepped back into the conversation. “Then you need to get men in here from other states for backup. Our men are tired, and that fire is spreading. Not only are our farms in danger, but if the fire spreads outward, the town itself could be burned. Our men can’t fight twenty-four hours a day, Bud. They need rest. Can’t we ask neighboring states for mutual aide? Maybe some of us should step in and help where we can so we don’t feel helpless standing around watching our homes and businesses burn.”
“Hold on a minute!” Bud pushed around the podium and walked to the edge of the platform. “That’s unacceptable, Shane. Don’t panic and do something you might regret. You’re not trained firefighters—neither are your men. We don’t want people getting lost in the middle of a wildfire, getting hurt . . . or worse. Let us do our jobs. Please.”
Several of the men started arguing among themselves.
Max Gibson, a small, muscled-looking man with a long white beard, stepped forward. “I’d like to say somethin’, Mr. Greeson; I’ve been Mr. Gerald’s stable manager for over thirty-two years. It’s all I know how to do. If we don’t get this fire under control, not only will Mr. Gerald lose his barn and his home, but all of us stable hands will lose our jobs. We’d be willin’ to help if we can.”
The crowd mumbled agreement.
Bud planted his feet on the ground and looked over the crowd. “Max, I know you’re worried about your job. Shane, Gerald, I know you and a lot of other farm owners here are frustrated and worried about your farms, but we’re gradually beatin’ this thing. It’s better than it was yesterday, in spite of what you think. We have it thirty-five percent contained—yesterday it was only ten percent. A couple of our firemen have been on vacation and are returning early to help.”
Gerald watched as Shane stood deliberately to his feet. The crowd listened silently as he spoke.
“All right, Bud. We’ll give you a couple more days. But, if things don’t change by then, we’ll be talking about other options. We can’t stand by without a fight and watch our farms go up in smoke.”
Agreements traveled around the room as they all stood on determined feet.
Gerald and Max walked over to Shane Duke, and the men shook hands.
“What do you think, Gerald? Think they’ll get it stopped before it hits your back two hundred acres of alfalfa?”
Gerald shook his head. “I hope so. I have an equipment shed that’s even closer than the back two hundred. If that goes, it’ll hurt.”
“Maybe you should go ahead and move out the equipment.”
“Already did.” Max spoke up. “Got it stored in an old hay barn there behind Mr. Gerald’s house.”
Gerald nodded. “I told my men to take the hay plows out tomorrow and dig a fire break across the back side of the alfalfa field. I’m hoping it’ll help stop the fire at the line.”Shane perked up. “Yep, that’s a good idea. We talked about burning off some of the back fields to keep the fire from jumping to the woods closest to the house. If the fire reaches that field, and it’s been burned, it might burn itself out.”
Gerald nodded. “That’s a good idea too. Maybe that’s what we need to do.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
The men turned to see Jordan Welsh standing right outside their circle.
“Jordan. I didn’t know you were back in these parts.” Gerald’s surprise was evident as he shook Jordan’s hand. Something in Jordan’s eyes seemed hardened and unsettled.
“Yeah. I figured I may as well get back here before the ranch completely went to the dogs. Vinny and Angie put so much work into it; I hate to see it abandoned.”
Shane held out his hand. “It’s good to see you again, Jordan. I hope you’ve been well.”
“Tolerable, I reckon. It’s hard without Vinny. He was my life, you know.”
Gerald’s stomach felt sick. He knew the feeling. When Angie died in the wreck that killed Vinny, he thought time would heal that sick feeling he felt when he thought of losing his only daughter, but time hadn’t healed the wound—only made it easier to bear.
Jordan turned to him. “I’m headed up to Tennessee for a couple of days, but when I come back, I’d be happy to help anywhere I can. My farm’s not in danger of the fire, but I can sure imagine how I would feel if it was.”
“Thanks, Jordan. We’d welcome the help. We were talking about digging fire breaks and burning off some of the back fields closest to the fire, hoping that would at least slow the fire down if not stop it completely.”
“I guess it depends on how strong the wind is, but two fire breaks are better than one, I reckon,” Jordan said.
Gerald nodded. “I’ll probably start first thing Monday morning. My place isn’t that close to the fire yet, but it wouldn’t take long if the wind gets up. If you wanna come by when you get back, I’d appreciate the help.”
“I’ll be there.” Jordan nodded and left.
“See you on Monday, Shane, I’ll be starting bright and early.” Gerald said as he shook Shane’s hand. He waved at a couple of neighbors and walked out of the building. He looked across the parking lot as Jordan got into his car. The man had aged and seemed weaker than he remembered. Jordan’s hair had practically turned to all white since leaving Carson three years ago. Gerald shrugged. He probably had a few more white hairs himself. This fire wasn’t helping either.
ELEVEN
TENNESSEE
MARTI STEPPED OUT OF THE Landeville City Post Office and bumped into a tall man standing outside the door.
“Excuse me, sir. I’m sor—”
Shock stopped her in mid-sentence. Standing in front of her was Jordan Welsh.
Seeing the father of her dead brother-in-law, Vinny, shocked her into silence. Jordan seemed much older, and his weathered features reminded her of the pain he’d suffered when Vinny and Angie died. She never saw him after the accident, but she heard he had taken their deaths very hard. She dreaded facing him now.
The veiled look in his eyes made her squirm under his gaze. He tilted his head and spoke.
“Well, Martha. This is a surprise. Now I know where you disappeared to. I heard you moved away and didn’t tell anyone where you were going. ‘Course, I moved too and sort of lost touch with everybody there in Carson.”
Marti stood still, not knowing what to say. Finally, the silence made her uncomfortable. “Mr. Welsh. It’s good to see you. I hope you’ve been well.”
Jordan nodded. “As well as could be.”
“What are you doing in Tennessee?”
“I . . . uh, still travel around for the quarter horse competitions, and I decided to attend the one in Vick.”
“Oh.”
“Are you living here now, Martha?”
She nodded. “For the past year. I’ve been working at an art gallery here in the city.”
“I see.”
The pause that followed was uncomfortable for Marti, so she backed up a little and said, “I guess I better be getting back. I ran over to get the mail for my boss. It was good to see you again, Mr. Welsh.”
Mr. Welsh put his hand on Marti’s arm. “Wait, Martha.”
She stopped and half-turned towa
rd him. The hand on her arm gave her an uneasy feeling.
“I just wanted to say that . . . I don’t hold any ill feelings toward you.” His eyes shifted to stare at the ground.
The breath she was holding came out quickly in a relieved sigh. “Thank you, Mr. Welsh.”
“I know things happen sometimes that are out of our control, and . . . well, I just wanted you to know.” The smile he gave her was strained but she hoped it was sincere.
Marti turned toward him then and fingered the chain around her neck. “Thank you, Mr. Welsh. I know it was hard losing Vinny, especially right after your wife died. I’m just sorry it had to happen.”
For a second, his eyes met hers, and then he shifted, and his gaze spiraled downward. “Yeah, same here.” His voice was so soft she could hardly hear the words. He squared his shoulders and spoke. “I’ll let you go now, Martha.” He nodded and turned away.
She stood still and watched him cross the street to the courthouse. His lanky figure looked strong, but his legs were still tall and painfully thin. A small twinge started in her stomach and spread to her heart. Reminders of that accident always popped up somewhere. She wished there was a pill to take so she could forget everything in her past.
She shook her head and flipped through the mail while she walked in the other direction but froze when she saw a familiar address label.
Carson, Texas.
A pain hit her in the chest so hard it made her dizzy. Who would be writing her from Daniel’s address? How did they know where she was?
She stared at the letter, torn between two decisions. Should she open it? Should she throw it in the sidewalk trash can and not give it another thought?
What if it was important?
She ripped open the envelope before she could talk herself out of it.
Gerald’s scribbling popped off the page. Suddenly, her legs wouldn’t hold her up. She collapsed on the post office steps. The rest of the mail slipped from her hand to the ground as she stared at the words on the white piece of paper.
A Memory Worth Dying For Page 5