“Having a bit of trouble?”
The sheriff stepped next to her. Her shoulder blades burned and her stomach turned. “I’m just trying to find … here it is.” She picked up the registration and handed it to him.
“Yep.” The sheriff grinned. He already held the man’s papers in his hands. “Now all I need is your license and insurance.”
“I know.” Victoria shuffled through manuals, maintenance lists, and other papers. The murmurs of what had to be the entire town made her hands shake. Placing the last piece of paper in the glove compartment, she exhaled and smacked the side of her hip. “I can’t find my insurance.”
The sheriff smiled. “Don’t worry ’bout it. Just give me your license. I will have to cite you for no insurance, but just as soon as you provide proof to the judge, everything’ll be fine.”
“Judge?” The vein in Victoria’s right temple throbbed.
“Just a formality. Don’t worry ’bout it one bit.”
Victoria opened the passenger’s door. “Do you mind if I sit down a minute?”
“Course not.”
She climbed inside, then closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat. What did a real judge look like? The only ones she’d ever seen were the ones on television, and they were often angry and exasperated with the people before them.
Just don’t think about that right now. All she had to do was sit a few moments and wait for the sheriff to fix up the paperwork. The leather rested cool against her neck, easing her discomfort a bit.
“I still need your license, ma’am.”
Victoria sat up. “I’m sorry.” She scooped her purse off the floorboard and rummaged through it. “It’s right here in my wallet.” She pulled the fuchsia accessory from her bag and snapped it open. Her ID wasn’t where it should have been.
“Oh no.” Dread filled her as she remembered not being able to find it when the grocery store’s cashier asked for it a few weeks before. She thumbed through each card, willing, praying for the card to reveal itself.
“What’s the matter?”
The driver had obviously grown tired of waiting. Victoria begged to be awakened from this nightmare as she went through each card in her wallet.
“She can’t find her license,” the sheriff responded, “or proof of insurance.”
Giving in, she leaned back against the seat. “I lost it a couple of weeks ago.”
“Then why were you looking for it?” The sheriff folded his arms in front of his chest. His expression transformed to one not so forgiving.
“I—I just hoped maybe I had overlooked it.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. You’re driving without a license or proof of insurance. You’ve caused a wreck.” He shook his head. “I’m going to have to take you down to the jail until I can figure out your identity.”
“No! Please, my name is Victoria Allison Thankful. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I’ve lived in …”
“You any relation to Sondra Ward? Her name used to be Thankful.”
“Yes, yes. She used to be my sister-in-law. I’m here to visit.”
“Well, now”—the sheriff smacked his lips together and winked—“we can just give her a call, verify that you’re who you say you are, and we’ll get you on your way.”
“Thank you.”
“I hate to do it, but I’ll still have to cite you and impound your vehicle.”
“What? But how will I get to Sondra’s farm?”
“How will I get Mary Ann fixed?”
She glared at the man the sheriff had called Chris. How could he think about that car at this moment? Her life had already collapsed into pieces; now the pieces were shattering.
She dug the cell phone from her jeans pocket and grabbed the stationery from the seat. Dialing Sondra’s number, all she could think of was getting away from the crowd and this man. The phone rang. It rang again. Please pick up. Lord, please let Sondra be there.
“Hello.” Sondra’s voice sounded through the phone, and Victoria sighed in relief.
“It’s Victoria.” She swallowed, realizing anew how little she and Sondra knew of each other. “I rear-ended a car.”
“What? Victoria, are you all right? Was anyone hurt?”
“We’re all fine, but I can’t find my license or proof of insurance.” Perspiration beaded on her forehead. In any other circumstance, Victoria would have never called Sondra for help. They barely knew each other. “The sheriff is taking my Suburban.”
Victoria swallowed the golf ball that had formed in her throat. She couldn’t begin to fathom what her one-time sister-in-law must think. Why would Sondra want to help a Thankful anyway? The family had been nothing but cruel to her.
“Oh, honey.” Sondra’s voice sounded smooth as silk and filled with compassion.
“He wanted me to call you to prove who I am.”
“Whas madder, Mommy?” Victoria could hear the concern in her nephew’s voice. She wanted so much to scoop him up and squeeze him in a big hug. She needed a hug, too.
“Everything’s fine, Peewee. Go check on your sister. Victoria, let me talk to Troy.”
“Who’s Troy?”
“The sheriff.”
“Okay.” Victoria handed him the phone. She waited as Troy smiled and talked to Sondra as if nothing had happened.
He gave it back to her. “She cleared you. I’m sorry, but you still can’t have your vehicle.”
Focusing on staying calm, she put the phone back to her ear. “Sondra, I’m embarrassed to ask, but is there anyway you can pick me up?”
“I don’t have a vehicle, Victoria. My van’s in the shop, and Dylan took the truck to check on some cattle.”
“Oh.”
“Who’s there besides Troy?”
“Uh, everyone who lives in this town is gathered on the sidewalk, and the man I hit—I think Troy said his name was Chris.”
“You hit Chris’s car?”
“Yeah.”
“Mary Ann?”
What is up with this car? “Yeah.”
“Let me talk to him.”
“What?”
“Just let me talk to him. Everything will be fine.”
Victoria walked toward the man who still knelt at the rear end of his car. “I’m sorry, but my sister-in-law would like to talk to you.”
He stood and took the phone. “Yeah … yeah … okay… okay.” He handed the phone back to her. “She’d like to speak to you now.”
Victoria grabbed the phone with one hand and twirled her diamond stud earring with the other. The whole ordeal had set her head to pounding in what Victoria felt sure could be considered a migraine, or at least the beginning of one. “Sondra?”
“Chris will bring you to the ranch.”
“What?” She looked at the overgrown man who had turned toward Troy. Victoria watched as the sheriff nodded his head to whatever Chris had said to him. “I can’t ride with him.”
“Yes, you can. Trust me. He’s a great guy. I’d come and get you in a heartbeat, but I can’t.”
“But …”
“Trust me. You’ll be fine.”
“But he hates me.”
“Chris Ratliff hates no one.” A crash followed by crying sounded over the phone. “Gotta go.”
Victoria pushed the Off button on her cell phone and glanced toward her ride. Chris stood with both hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes glazed and his jaw set in a hard line when he looked at her. Lifting one side of her mouth in an attempted smile, Victoria gave up the notion, walked to her Suburban, grabbed her purse, and popped open a bottle of pain reliever. She swallowed two tablets, struggling to push them down her seemingly swollen throat. Begging God to keep her from getting sick, she noted the scowling expression on Chris’s face. Victoria felt confident that Sondra had no idea what she was talking about.
“Buckle up.” Chris tried to sound nonchalant as he clicked his seat belt. He’d had to put his bumper in the back of Troy’s cruiser as there wasn’t enough room in Mar
y Ann for it and that gal’s suitcase. Two more gigantic pieces of luggage remained in the back of her Suburban. The same two pieces he had offered to pick up and take to the ranch after he dropped off the young woman.
Is this some kind of test, Lord? His frustration with Abby had not even minimally subsided when this lady slammed into his car. Now he was chauffeuring the Mary Ann Mangler and a third of her belongings to the Wards’ ranch. It didn’t help matters that they were a good half hour away. He turned onto the one-lane road that could be named the longest driveway in the history of driveways. I don’t have the patience of Job.
A glob of bird dropping hit his windshield. Perfect. The day can’t get much better. He pulled Mary Ann to the side, opened the door, yanked his handkerchief from his back pocket, and wiped off the mess. Folding the remains into the center of the handkerchief, he carefully shoved it back into his pocket. He slid into the driver’s seat and looked at his passenger peering over the suitcase resting in her lap. Her jaw had dropped and her eyebrows had risen. Chris shrugged. “Just habit. I’ve been cleaning and shining this girl for eight long years.” He patted the freshly oiled dashboard.
“You’ve fixed this car up for eight years?”
“Yep. She was a high school graduation present from my pa. It took me awhile to buy all the parts she needed.”
“How long have you had it fixed?”
“Couple months.”
She gasped. He peeked at her. She had lowered her head. “I’m truly so sorry.”
Chris felt as though his heart would split in two. He knew she hadn’t purposely caused the accident, and she had been so worked up about not having her license and insurance. Not that he blamed her.
He had to admit she was quite a cutie. Long, dark brown curls were pulled back in a ponytail even though a few pieces had escaped and touched her cheek. Her profile showed the sweetest, little button nose he had ever seen. She was probably a few years younger than he, and he had to admit under different circumstances he might have taken a second look her way. “It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. I’ll—I’ll pay you back. Promise.”
“We’ll work it out.” He started his car. In all honesty though, he wondered what would happen if she didn’t have insurance. His insurance would pay for the repairs if he wanted, but then his rates would probably go up to more than he could afford. Unless she had money.
He glanced at her again. She did seem to wear rather spiffy clothes. She smelled awfully good, too. If his memory served him right, Sondra’s deceased husband had at one time been fairly wealthy. It seemed like his parents had disinherited him when he married Sondra. If that were true, then this lady probably did have some avenues with which to pay him back. Then why wouldn’t she have insurance?
Of course she’d have insurance. Lots of people couldn’t find the proof when they needed it. Chris shook his head. He sneaked another peek. Her head was down, her eyes closed. She seemed to be praying. Something inside him stirred, compelling him to make her feel better. “Don’t worry about that citation of yours.”
She looked at him; fearful innocence wrapped her face. “I’ve never even seen a judge.”
“Henry’s soft as a new puppy. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Show him your license and insurance, and he’ll thank you and send you on your way.”
“With a fine?”
Chris shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably.”
“That’s what I thought.”
She wasn’t going to have insurance or cash flow. Chris could feel it. Eight years. After eight long years of fixing up Mary Ann, he’d have to stick her back in the shop and work on her a little at a time. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t need to think about it. More than anything, he just wanted to get home, eat some supper, take a hot shower, and go to bed. The sooner this day ended the better.
three
Victoria smiled as the trees cleared and Sondra’s ranch came into full view. The country home screamed of serenity and coziness. “I’m so excited to meet my nephew.” She twisted her purse handle around.
“You haven’t met Peewee?”
“Mother and Daddy wouldn’t have any … Well, it’s a long story.”
The front door burst open. A small boy toddled out followed by Sondra holding a baby girl on her hip. Matt clapped his hands and danced around the porch. Before Chris had time to turn off the car, Victoria hopped out and ran for her nephew. She scooped him in her arms and twirled around. He squealed in delight.
“He’s not afraid of me!” Victoria exclaimed as she nestled him closer to her chest.
“Peewee isn’t afraid of anyone”—Sondra laughed—“but he’s been waiting for you to come. I’ve been showing him your picture on the refrigerator.”
Happiness filled Victoria’s spirit, and she hugged Sondra with her free arm. “Thank you.” She turned back to her nephew and tickled his belly. “It’s so good to see you”—she gazed at Sondra, willing her to fully forgive her for the years of silence—“all of you.”
“You stay as long as you like. I’m glad you’ve come.”
“Aunt Vic.” Matt poked Victoria’s shoulder.
“He knows my name?”
“Oh yes.” Sondra tickled Matt’s belly. “Peewee’s a smart boy, aren’t you, Peewee?”
“Boy.” Matt pointed at himself.
“Yes, you are.” Victoria ran her fingers through his small locks of brown hair. “You look just like your daddy.”
“Daddy.” Matt squealed and leaned away from Victoria. She turned and saw a tall cowboy walking onto the porch.
“There’s my little man.” The cowboy took Matt from Victoria’s embrace.
“Victoria, this is Dylan.” Sondra pointed to the man Matt had called Daddy. A twinge of pain pricked Victoria’s heart. Kenny was Matt’s daddy, not this man. She tried to push the thought aside. Kenny would want Matt to be raised by a man who would love him. According to Sondra, Dylan was a wonderful Christian man.
“Here’s your bag.”
Victoria turned to find Chris standing on the front lawn holding her suitcase. “I’m sorry, Chris. I’ll get it.”
“No, I’ll take it.” Dylan grabbed the bag before she could. “Swap.” He handed Matt to her. Victoria hopped back onto the porch before her nephew had time to protest.
Sondra chuckled. “Come on everyone, let’s have a glass of iced tea.”
“I can’t stay.” Chris jingled his keys and nodded toward Victoria. “I’m going to get her other two bags and bring ’em to the ranch. Then I oughta get back to Abby.”
“No need to,” said Dylan. “I’m going to put this suitcase in Victoria’s room and then head right into town and pick up the others.”
Victoria held Matt a little tighter as heat rushed up her spine. “I’m sorry for all this inconvenience.”
Sondra shook her head. “Don’t you worry. I needed Dylan to run to the store anyway.” She turned to Chris. “Tell Abby I said to be good.”
Chris grunted then nodded. “I sure will.”
Victoria wondered at the odd tightness in her chest when Sondra mentioned the woman’s name. She watched as Chris walked back to his car, slid inside, and then drove away. “Abby’s Chris’s wife?”
Dylan’s boots clanked against the porch, and the door slammed as he went into the house with her suitcase. Victoria felt Sondra staring at her. Her question had come out a little more inquisitive than she had meant it to sound, so she adjusted Matt’s shirt and avoided Sondra’s gaze. She didn’t care if Chris was married. Why would she?
“No, Abby’s Chris’s seventeen-year-old sister. He takes care of her.”
Victoria gawked at Sondra. “Really?”
“Yeah. The girl’s a little rough around the edges. Not a bad kid, really, but she gives Chris fits most of the time.”
Victoria laughed. “I bet being raised by him gives Abby fits, as well.”
Sondra seemed to ponder the notion. “I guess you’re right. She pro
bably needs a woman’s influence.” Sondra winked and walked through the front door.
Victoria didn’t know if Sondra tried to imply anything, and she didn’t want to think about it either. The last thing she needed was to worry about a rough-around-the-edges teenage girl.
Snuggling Matt closer, she kissed his cheek and walked into the house. It looked nothing like Victoria had imagined. Rustic femininity. Aside from the sippy cup and toy horses on the floor, Victoria felt as if she’d walked into a Country Living magazine. It felt so nostalgic, so homey.
“Not a four-story mansion, huh?”
Victoria jumped at Sondra’s voice. “No. It’s wonderful.”
Cocking her head, Sondra seemed to study her. Finally, she smiled. “Would you like a glass of iced tea, or do you want to unpack first?”
“I think I’d like to go ahead and unpack.”
“Sure thing.” Sondra pointed down the hall. “Your room is the first one on the left. Dylan’s already put your luggage in there.”
“Thanks.” Victoria put her precious nephew on the floor next to his horses. “I’ll be back to play with you in just a minute.” She caressed his chin. I wish I had seen him as a newborn, held him, kissed him, spoiled him. She sighed and then stood. “Thank you, Sondra, for letting me come. I wish …” Victoria’s voice cracked, and she knew at any moment she’d have to allow herself a good, long cry.
“Get yourself on to your room. I’ll get the tea; plus I just made up a batch of cookies. Unpack a bit, and then we’ll talk.”
Victoria nodded and headed down the hall. Sondra is a wonderful person. Mother and Daddy were wrong. So wrong.
“Tell me that you did not burn lunch.” The stench of burnt eggs filled the room. Chris waved his hand through the layer of smoke above the stove. He peered into the living area connected to their kitchen and saw Abby lounging in the recliner with her back to one of its arms and her legs draped over the other. She wore her fluffy house shoes that were caked with mud from tromping back and forth to the garden. Instead of stomping the mess off outside or even in the mudroom, clumps of earth had fallen on the floor beneath her feet.
By His Hand: Truly Yours Digital Edition Page 2