Balancing Act

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Balancing Act Page 19

by Patricia Davids


  “Bonkers is back there on the church steps.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes—no! I don’t know. It was a big, yellow cat. Please, we have to go check.”

  He turned the truck on the narrow highway and drove back, but the headlights revealed only an empty porch.

  “I know it was Bonkers.” Cheryl opened the door, and shouted for the twins.

  “Cheryl, get in. You’re getting soaked. We aren’t near any of the places the driver said he stopped. There must be a hundred yellow cats between here and Abilene.”

  “I tell you, Sam, it was Bonkers.” Determined to prove she wasn’t mistaken, Cheryl crossed the overgrown churchyard and started up the dilapidated steps.

  She tried the front door. It opened a few inches, but stuck fast on the warped wooden floor. From inside, she heard a faint meow. “Lindy? Kayla? Are you in there?”

  “Cheryl, is—”

  “—that you?”

  Relief poured through her at the sound of their voices. “Sam, they’re in here.”

  He was beside her in an instant. “Are you girls all right?” he called.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Can you come and get us?”

  “They’re all right.” Relief made Cheryl light-headed.

  Sam grabbed the wedged door and pulled, but stopped when a loud groaning sound issued from the building overhead. “I can’t get in, girls. Can you get out?”

  “No, the floor fell down.”

  “All by itself.”

  “We didn’t do it.”

  Sam stepped back and began to look for another way in. Moving around to the side of the building, he saw that the center section of the roof had fallen in and bare rafters jutted out like broken ribs. The steeple and the ends of the building leaned precariously inward. He listened to the old boards creaking and groaning in the rising wind.

  A streak of lightning flashed and thunder rolled in an ominous cadence across the prairie as the grove of trees around them bent low in a gust of wind. He glanced in fear at the slanting steeple of the old church. He had to get the girls out.

  On the north side of the building, he found a large section of the wall had fallen in, and he made his way toward the gaping hole. The ground around the church lay littered with piles of old junk.

  He stopped at the hole and peered in through the fallen wall. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Years ago, someone had pulled up the floorboards and left only the floor joists in place. They stretched like an empty tic-tac-toe game above a deep cellar. A small section of the roof had caved in and caught on them. The twins sat huddled on a few fallen boards almost directly across the building from him.

  Between him and the girls stood thirty feet of empty space. Below them lay a hazard-filled pit.

  People had been using the cellar of the abandoned church as a junk heap for decades. Scrap lumber, hundreds of broken bottles, rusted tin cans, rolls of barbed wire, broken bits of farm machinery and assorted debris covered the deep cellar floor.

  “Daddy, come get us,” Lindy called as she sat with her arms around Kayla. Bonkers lay beside them.

  “Okay, honey, I will. Just stay still.” Sam searched for a way to reach them. “How did you get out there?”

  “We followed Bonkers in, but the floor fell down, and we couldn’t get back. I told Kayla we could walk out like Bonkers did on those boards, but she’s scared. She thinks she’ll fall.”

  He blanched at the thought of the girls trying to walk across the old beams above the wreckage-filled pit. The gusty wind would make the trip dangerous even for the cat. There had to be a better way.

  “Stay there, girls, don’t move,” he called. “I’ll come and get you.”

  But how? Desperately, he studied the wreck of a building looking for a way to reach his children. The rain fell in earnest now. Dropping to one knee beside him, Cheryl began to undo the splint on her ankle.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m going to walk over there and carry them out, but I can’t do it with this splint on,” she answered, working the straps loose.

  Sam dropped beside her and grasped her wrist, stopping her. “Are you crazy? Did you look down there? Even if that old wood is strong enough to hold you, you can’t do it on a broken foot. If you fall into that junk heap, you’d be lucky to walk again, let alone dance.” The driving rain soaked both of them as they stared at each other.

  “Have you got a better idea?” she asked. “You’re the architect. Will that roof hold if the wind gets worse?”

  He looked at the old bell tower leaning inward over the sagging roof and shook his head. “I can’t see what’s keeping it up now. It looks like it would come down if a pigeon landed on it.”

  “I can do this, Sam.”

  He studied her face for a long moment. He didn’t see fear or hesitation, only determination in the bright blue eyes that stared back at him. She was willing to do this for his children. She was willing to risk her career, maybe even her life. Another strong gust of wind drove the rain into his face, and he wiped it away with his hand. Lightning flashed close by, followed by the sharp crack of thunder. The old building gave a creaking moan as it shifted.

  “How can I let you do this?” he muttered.

  “Hey, cowboy, the question is, how are you going to stop me?”

  He gazed at her and knew she was telling the truth. She loved his daughters enough to risk everything for them.

  Thunder rumbled again in the leaden sky, and Sam rose to his feet. “I’ve got a rope. Maybe I can rig a safety line for you.” He turned and ran for the truck.

  “Hurry, Sam,” Cheryl called after him. She unbuckled the last strap and pulled her foot out. Sharp needles of pain stabbed through her instep as she stood. Gritting her teeth, she began to walk back and forth testing her strength and balance. Another groan from the old timbers of the building caused her to look up in fear. She heard the twins calling, and she stepped up to the gaping hole in the wall.

  “Are you coming, Cheryl?” Kayla called.

  “You bet I am, sweetheart. I’ll come right over.”

  “Hurry, please. I’m cold,” Lindy called.

  “It won’t be long now,” Cheryl promised.

  Sam returned with a coiled rope. “If I can get this over one of those rafters, I’ll be able to hold you up if you fall.” He gave a pointed look at her bare feet. “How’s the foot?”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you sure?” He made a toss with the rope and missed.

  “I’m sure.”

  The next toss of the rope went over the exposed rafter. He caught the dangling end and jerked on it. The beam held.

  He turned to her and held out a loop. “Put this around your waist.” She did, and he tightened it, then gathered up the slack. “Ready?”

  She nodded and carefully tested the beam in front of her. “I think it will hold, but I’m going to need some way to secure them to me so I can have my hands free for balance.”

  Sam pulled a small pocketknife from his jeans, cut a length of rope from his end, and handed it to her. She knotted it and slipped it over her head and one shoulder, then she stepped out onto the beam with her arms raised from her sides and concentrated on finding her center of balance.

  The beam under her bare feet was only about three inches wide. “Now I remember why I didn’t become a gymnast,” she muttered under her breath as she took several steps. Her ankle felt weak and wobbly, but it would hold. It had to.

  She looked at the small faces huddled together across the church, and she began to walk toward them with a smile set firmly on her face.

  Gusts of wind pushed at her back like a giant hand and whipped her hair across her eyes to blind her. The old beam beneath her bare feet was rough with splinters. In places, it was wet and slippery from the rain that poured in through the hole in the roof. Each flash of lightning illuminated the danger that lay below her.

  The sharp tines of a
rusting, rain-slicked harrow gleamed dully in one flash, the grimy panes of a shattered window reflected her above it in the next one. She took each step with careful determination until she reached the jumble of boards where the twins sat.

  “Stay still until I tell you to move. I can only take one of you at a time, so who wants to go first?” She turned around and lowered herself to straddle the beam at the edge of the fallen piece of roof.

  “Lindy can go,” Kayla offered. She scooted back and made more room for her sister. Bonkers climbed into Kayla’s lap, and she clutched him tightly.

  “Okay, good. Lindy, I want you to put your arms and legs around me and hold on tight. I’m going to tie this rope around us to help hold you on.”

  “I can’t. I’m scared.”

  “I know you are, but I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Your daddy can hold us up if we fall.”

  Lindy shook her head and whispered, “I can’t.”

  “Okay, this is what I want you to do. I want you to close your eyes. Can you do that?”

  “I guess so.”

  “But first, put your arms around my neck.”

  “Okay. But Cheryl, I’m not sleeping.”

  Cheryl tied the rope around them both.

  “Now, I’ve got a job for you. I want you to keep your eyes closed tight. Can you do that?”

  “Yes.”

  Lindy did as she was told, and Cheryl stood carefully. She looked back at Kayla’s pale face. “I’ll be right back for you.”

  “Promise you won’t leave me?”

  Cheryl felt a lump rise in her throat. “I’m not going to leave you, baby. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  It was difficult to keep her balance with Lindy’s added weight, and Cheryl’s foot hurt with every step. She glanced once at Sam’s worried face.

  “You’re doing fine,” he coaxed. “Only a few more steps.”

  It took five more steps before Cheryl grasped Sam’s strong hand, and he pulled her to solid ground. Quickly, he untied the small rope and shifted Lindy to his arms. The rain poured down in torrents, and the old building shuddered in the fierce wind.

  “Hurry,” he said as he set Lindy on the ground and pulled the slack out of the rope.

  Cheryl stepped back onto the beam and tried to do just that. She lost her balance and wobbled wildly for an instant before she steadied herself.

  Behind her, she heard Sam’s reassuring voice. “Easy, girl, easy. Are you okay?”

  “Just peachy,” she said through clenched teeth as she waited for her bounding pulse to settle.

  “You can do it, I know you can.”

  “I’m fine.” She took a deep breath and began to walk toward Kayla and Bonkers. When she reached the edge of the boards again, she smiled at Kayla. “I told you I’d be back. You and I are going to do the same thing, okay?” She sat down. “Climb on.”

  A sharp report sounded above their heads, followed by a grating groan that shook the boards they sat on. Cheryl glanced up, then quickly twisted around to cover Kayla’s small body with her own as a shower of wooden shingles rained down from a new hole in the roof. A long piece of a splintered rafter fell, stabbing through the flimsy wood inches away from her head.

  “Are you okay?” Sam’s frantic voice filled the sudden silence.

  “We’re okay.” Cheryl sat up with Kayla clutched tightly in her arms.

  “Well, get out of there! This whole place is about to come down,” he yelled.

  “I’m not dawdling in here because I want to!” she shouted back. Another loud crack rent the air. The rafter holding her safety rope snapped in two and fell into the cellar.

  Cheryl stared at the useless rope. Kayla tugged at her arms. “I’m cold. Can we go now?”

  Cheryl looked down at the face of the child she loved with all her heart. “Yes, honey. Let’s go home, shall we?” She threw off the useless safety line and stood.

  “Come on, girls. I know you can do it.”

  Cheryl heard the controlled fear in Sam’s voice. She shifted Kayla to her back and tightened the small rope around them. Bonkers dashed out onto the beam in front of them. He trotted a little way out, then turned around to see if they were following. He ran the rest of the way, jumped out and stood with flattened ears in the rain.

  “Show off,” Cheryl muttered as she started walking.

  Another sharp crack split the air. The beam under Cheryl’s feet quivered wildly and shifted, and she gave a cry of alarm. A piece of falling shingle hit her head, and she struggled to maintain her balance as the beam under her dropped several inches.

  Righting herself, Cheryl looked at Sam, and her heart skipped a beat before it began to thud in fear. He lay facedown, holding on to the splintered end of beam she stood on. The veins in his neck stood out as he held their combined weight and the heavy beam. She began to walk quickly, hoping he could hold them up.

  Suddenly, a series of powerful reports rent the air. An ominous moaning started low, then grew louder and louder.

  “Jump!” Sam yelled.

  Cheryl leaped toward the opening as the beam gave way behind her. She knew she wasn’t going to make it. She landed half in and half out of the opening. She felt Kayla’s weight pulling her backward as she clawed for a handhold in the wet grass.

  In an instant, Sam’s strong hands clamped on to her arms, and he pulled her up beside him. They scrambled to their feet and ran as the roof caved in and the ends of the church toppled inward with a deafening crash.

  As suddenly as it started, the sounds died away. Cheryl clung to Sam as they stood looking at a pile of wreckage where the old church had stood. With trembling hands, she began to untie the rope at her waist. Sam lifted Kayla from her back and gave the child a quick hug. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  He kissed her cheek, then set her on the ground.

  “I want to go home,” Lindy said.

  “That’s a very good idea,” Cheryl agreed.

  Sam grasped her arm. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “I’m cold,” Kayla said with a shiver.

  “Can we go?” Lindy asked. “Bonkers doesn’t—”

  “—like the rain.”

  “He wants—”

  “—to go home, too.”

  “Of course.” Cheryl turned away and herded the girls toward the truck.

  The twins told them what had happened as they drove back to the ranch.

  “The man said he was going to Wichita,” Kayla began after she exchanged looks with her sister.

  “We decided to go and wait there for you,” Lindy admitted.

  “Then you’d have to bring us home, and you could stay some more.”

  “We were in the dark a long time.” Lindy’s voice grew dramatic.

  “And we didn’t like it,” Kayla added.

  “The truck stopped, and we thought maybe it was Wichita, so I opened the door to see and—”

  “—Bonkers jumped out.”

  “We got out to catch him but—”

  “—the truck drove away and left us.”

  “It started to rain, and Bonkers ran into the church. The door wouldn’t open very far, but we got in.”

  “Bonkers ran over some boards to a dry place, and we followed him. Then the boards fell down, and we couldn’t get out,” Kayla finished in a rush.

  Sam shook his head. “This was the most harebrained idea you’ve ever cooked up. You’re grounded till you’re twenty-one.”

  “But, Dad!”

  “Two weeks, and I don’t want to hear another word.”

  Sam used his cell phone to call the ranch to let his mother and grandfather know that the twins were safe. Eleanor and Walter were waiting when he drove into the ranch yard. Cheryl recognized her sister’s green Mazda parked in front of the house. Eleanor knelt down, and the girls ran to throw their arms around her in a big hug.

  “Hi—”

  “—Grandma.”


  “You girls scared me to death,” she scolded.

  “We’re—”

  “—sorry.”

  Walter watched them with an indulgent smile. He looked at Cheryl and said, “Your brother told the sheriff about the Double R cowboy who was looking for help to heist some cattle. His tip paid off.”

  “You found Harvey?” Cheryl’s sadness lifted a little as he nodded. At least Sam had a chance now to get the ranch back on its feet.

  “Apparently, he tried to sell them in his hometown just outside of Emporia. He had a forged bill of sale, but it seems he didn’t have an explanation for why his bull had rose-pink toenails. The sale barn operator got suspicious and notified the law.”

  Eleanor gave the twins a small push in Walter’s direction. “Take them in the house and get them cleaned up, will you?”

  He nodded and took each girl by the hand. “Come and tell Grandpa all about it. How long are you grounded for?”

  “Two whole weeks,” Lindy admitted with a long face.

  “That’s not bad. Did I ever tell you about the time I got grounded for a whole year?” His voice trailed off as he led the girls into the house.

  Eleanor faced Cheryl. “Your sister is here,” she said just as Angie stepped out onto the porch.

  Sam came up beside Cheryl. “You’re leaving now?”

  “Yes.”

  She waited for him to speak, to ask her to stay, but he didn’t. She forced a smile to her face. “I’m glad you’ll get your cattle back, and I’m glad the girls are safe, and I’m sorry—about everything.” She turned and hurried to her sister’s car, determined that no one would see how much her heart was breaking.

  Sam watched her go. He’d been so wrong about her. He’d let his festering pain and anguish over his wife’s deceptions keep him from seeing the truth about her. He loved Cheryl, but at the first test of that love, he’d failed her miserably.

  Her sister stopped in front of Sam and held out her hand. “Thanks for taking care of Cheryl.”

  Sam took her hand and nodded mutely.

  Angie glanced toward the car where Cheryl sat with her head bowed, then back at him. “Oh, come on. You’re not really going to let her go, are you?”

  “She doesn’t want to stay.”

 

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