Her Small-Town Hero

by Arlene James

  For now, with his hand on the doorknob and the door ajar, he choked out, “Me, too.”

  “I know I’m the newcomer,” she went on, “and a subject for gossip, but I somehow felt a part of the community tonight. Does that make sense?”

  It made a lot of sense. Eden was a friendly town, and the Saturday-night crowd at the Watermelon Patch treated the place like one big community dining room. That Cara had felt a welcome part of that lightened Holt’s conscience a bit and, at the same time, tightened his chest.

  He turned to face her, a lump rising in his throat at the soft look on her face. He couldn’t have gotten a word out to save his life, so he did the only thing he could think of. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  Before he could do worse, he quickly backed through the door, taking with him a trepidatious heart and the vision of her sweet, wistful smile.

  Cara and Ace attended church with the Jeffords the next day. This time they rode in Holt’s truck and sat up front in the usual Jefford pew. She’d argued that it might be wiser, considering the assumptions about the two of them, for her to make the trek on foot, despite the biting cold, and sit apart from the Jeffords, but Holt had decreed the plan pointless. Hap had dismissed the whole thing.

  “People will talk,” he’d said. “Let ’em. God knows the truth. Better than we do, even.”

  That did nothing to ease Cara’s conscience. The more she got to know the Jeffords, the worse she felt about lying to them, especially to Holt. Her feelings for him had taken an alarming turn the night before, reinforcing her determination to keep as much distance between them as possible.

  Holt had left his hat in the vehicle when they went in to church, a wise decision because, even though Cara had managed to maneuver Hap into a seat between her and Holt, Ace continually lunged back and forth between them. He treated Hap as a human bridge, often pausing during transition to dispense hugs and pats.

  To Cara’s relief, none of the Jefford men became impatient or seemed the least disturbed by the constantly moving little body. Ryan, sitting on the end next to Holt, even seemed to feel a little left out and at times tried to entice Ace onto his lap, but though Ace smiled at Ryan and flirted with him, he did it sitting with his back flat against Holt’s chest. At least, Cara consoled herself, Ace was happy and quiet, and that allowed her to pay some attention to Grover’s message.

  It turned out that he was preaching a series from the book of Romans. She didn’t understand much of what he read aloud, but she did get the premise that the created have no right to complain to the Creator about how they are made. Another idea, however, not only confused but troubled her, that those pursuing righteousness via the law “stumbled” by not pursuing righteousness through faith.

  What did that mean, she wondered, to pursue righteousness through faith? And what was this law about which the writer spoke?

  She needed to speak to someone about this, someone who might not become too suspicious if she hedged or changed the subject. As before, Hap would be her first choice, but after the last time they’d spoken of such things, she feared giving away too much with him.

  During the final part of the service, when the congregation stood and softly sang while Grover gently exhorted those with needs to come forward for counseling and prayer, Cara felt an almost overwhelming compulsion to rush down the aisle and throw herself onto her knees, but she stayed put out of fear. Later, when she stood shaking hands with Grover, the notion of speaking to him in private hit her. When she quietly asked if that might be possible, he promptly suggested a time the next afternoon, then added that he’d take care of it with Hap. Feeling somewhat lighter, Cara went out to meet the others.

  Holt had carried Ace from the building, seeming as comfortable as if the boy were his own. Cara’s heart lurched when Ace lifted his hand to press it against Holt’s mouth, as he often did with her. Holt first kissed Ace’s palm then blew a raspberry against it, eliciting joyous giggles. Cara knew in her heart of hearts that Addison would not have been so easy with their son, that his affection would not have been doled out so unstintingly and without motive.

  The sadness that had descended on her after that first, terrified grief suddenly threatened to envelope her once more. Then Holt caught her eye, smiled and waggled Ace’s hand in a wave.

  Thank You, God, she instantly thought. Thank You for my son. Thank You for bringing us to this place and these people.

  She wanted to ask that He allow them to stay, but after the lies she’d told these good men, she dared not ask for what she knew she did not deserve. For the first time, she began to wonder what she and Ace would do when they left here. They couldn’t live forever in a tiny kitchenette. Ace could not grow up sleeping in a walk-through closet. Even if the Elmonts didn’t find them, she and Ace would have to move on at some point. A growing boy needed a real home, and it fell to her to provide that. Somehow. Somewhere. She wondered how she could possibly do that on the run. If only the Elmonts had not filed for custody of her son….

  Her shivers had less to do with the cold than the sudden bleakness that filled her.

  Cara bowed her head, sitting forward on the edge of Marie Waller’s flowered sofa in the living room of the modest parsonage next to the church. Ace played on the rug between her feet. After coffee, a plate of sliced fruit and cheese and a solid forty minutes of conversation, during which the pastor’s wife had quietly disappeared, some of Cara’s questions had been answered. She now understood that the Law referred to the Ten Commandments, and that only through grace could anyone hope to live up to its standard.

  Unfortunately, receiving grace required confession of one’s sins, and she’d come no closer to being able to do that. All during the previous night, she’d wrestled with the possibility of confessing all, but that would only put the Jeffords in an untenable position. She couldn’t expect them to keep her secret, so she could only confess if she could move on, but to where? To what? God knew she wouldn’t get far on the money she’d managed to save thus far.

  Grover had urged her to unburden herself to God, but she’d already done so, more than once, and somehow it only seemed to heighten her need to tell Hap and Holt and Ryan the truth. She felt trapped in a vicious circle of fear, guilt and lies.

  Now, as the round, jolly pastor prayed aloud, tears leaked from Cara’s eyes, welling up from her heavy heart.

  “Father, You know Cara’s burdens, and we’re both trusting You to help her carry them. Help her see that her need for You is greater than whatever is holding her back from full surrender. Wrap Your arms of love and protection around her. Resolve these issues that are weighing so heavily upon her, and bring her fully into Your will for her life. Meanwhile, O God, make all of us who love You a blessing to her and Ace. In the name of Your Holy Son, Jesus the Christ, amen.”

  Sniffing and wiping her face, she gulped back her tears and took a deep breath before lifting her head. “Thank you, Pastor.”

  “I wish you could find the peace you’re seeking,” he told her gently.

  She shook her head. “Maybe I just don’t deserve it.”

  “None of us do,” he insisted, “but thankfully that didn’t keep God from making a way for us to have it. You should know, in case you decide to talk particulars, that I’m bound to confidentiality by the sanctity of my office. Nothing you tell me will leave the room.”

  She fully realized that he meant what he said, but she thought of Hap and Grover’s deep friendship with him and knew that she couldn’t ask the pastor to keep her secrets. “I’ll think about it,” she hedged.

  She bent and swung Ace up onto her lap to get him into his outer clothes. Once that had been accomplished, she drew on Hap’s old coat over her denim jacket and rose. “Thank you for your time.”

  “I’ll be praying for you,” Grover said, taking her hand as he led her toward the door. “Whatever the trouble is, my dear, know that you have real friends here who will stand by you.”

  He could say that, of
course, because he didn’t know what it was that she dared not confess. Nevertheless, she treasured the fact that he’d said it.

  “I appreciate that. Thank you again.”

  She hurried out onto the porch at the front of the house, smiled a farewell and shifted Ace onto her hip so she could descend the steps. The sky looked fittingly flat and gray, and a slicing wind swirled, clacking the bare tree branches and slashing any exposed skin to ribbons. She wished she’d worn Hap’s old gloves or at least a scarf on her head. At least Ace was warm inside his layers and fleece hoodie.

  Hugging him close, she crossed the street and turned toward the motel. She hadn’t gone ten yards when she heard a vehicle approaching from behind her and then a beep. Turning, she found Holt lowering the driver’s side window on his truck.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Heading back to the motel.”

  He put the truck in Park, got out and opened the back door before stepping up on the sidewalk and reaching for Ace. “Get in.”

  Cold, she yielded her son and trotted around to the passenger side. They’d agreed after church yesterday to take care of switching the car seat later, so the thing still sat anchored in the center of the back bench of his truck. Thankful for that, Cara basked in the warm air blowing from the heater while Holt buckled Ace into the safety harness.

  Holt slid in across from her a few moments later, snapped his own safety belt and pulled the gear lever into the proper position to move forward, but then he paused with his foot on the brake, hung a wrist over the top of the steering wheel and turned to face her. “I can’t believe you went out in this cold on foot.”

  “I had things to do,” she told him defensively, stung.

  “You should have waited for me to drive you wherever it is you needed to go.”

  “I didn’t want to take up your time with it,” she retorted.

  “Then you should’ve taken your own car,” he snapped.

  Cara folded her arms mulishly. “I couldn’t. The car is making an awful racket and I’m afraid to drive it, even a couple of blocks.”

  He just looked at her for several heavy heartbeats before facing forward again and depressing the gas pedal. “What was so important you had to go out anyway?”

  She took her time answering that, mostly because she didn’t want to lie to him. In the end she just told him without regard to consequences, muttering, “I wanted to speak to the pastor—I mean, Grover.”

  Holt shot her a glance, then carefully blanked his expression. “Okay. But why take Ace out in the cold when Hap’s more than willing to watch him?”

  Her defensiveness fading, she bit her lip, then had to admit, “I honestly didn’t even think of leaving Ace with Hap.”

  “Well, it’s time you started thinking about it.” His expression softened, taking the sting out of his words. “You’re not alone in the world, Cara Jane, whatever you may think.”

  The gallantry of that, coupled with her conversation with the preacher, threatened to move Cara to tears once more. She cleared her throat and said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Holt gave her a quick nod, then, “I’ll take a look at your car first chance I get.”

  She bit her lip. “That’s not necessary. After my next paycheck I’ll—”

  “I’ll take a look at it,” he interrupted, driving straight across the back lawn of the motel. “Then we’ll see.” He scraped a look over her, adding, “Ask me, you ought to be investing in a real coat and some winter clothes before you do anything else.”

  She hadn’t asked him, and she knew she wouldn’t be spending her hard-earned money on clothing for herself. She had no one but herself to blame for her inadequate wardrobe. Even though she’d had to sneak clothing out of the Elmont house over a period of days during her Christmas holiday furlough from the clinic, things that wouldn’t be missed, she could have included some warmer articles. She just hadn’t been thinking at the time, and now she paid the price by suffering the cold in order to accumulate funds in case she had to flee. The car being a necessity, she made no further protest about him taking a look at it; instead, she silently endured the jostling of the truck until it came to a stop next to the patio.

  Thanking Holt for the ride, she slid out onto the ground. They both climbed up into the back from opposite sides to free Ace from his harness. Once unbuckled, however, he reached for Holt rather than his mother.

  Cara told herself that Holt was nothing more than a fresh face for her son, but deep inside she feared Ace had become as fond of Holt Jefford as she had.

  This was another complication that she had not foreseen. Indeed, the list of her failures seemed to grow hourly.

  First, she hadn’t appreciated the fact that Eddie would undoubtedly look for her around Duncan. Second, she hadn’t planned for an emergency, like the car breaking down. Third, she’d underestimated the work involved in the job she’d taken on. If Hap and Holt and even Ryan were not good enough to pitch in, she’d be in way over her head by now. In fact, if her employers had been anyone else, she’d probably be on the street by now! In addition, she hadn’t truly understood how arduous it would be to keep Ace with her all day long. Just the logistics of that were exhausting. Besides all that, she’d lied about her identity, where she’d grown up, where she’d come from, and why she’d struck out on this fool’s mission to begin with, even about what she’d run away from. Worse, she hadn’t counted on becoming so fond of the Jeffords that her conscience would get busy and eat her up like this.

  It seemed to Cara in that moment that the best thing she could do was just hit the road again.

  In a car that she didn’t trust to drive another mile and with limited funds. Right.

  No, she’d dug this hole by herself. She’d have to find a way to climb out on her own, too.

  In the meantime, all she could do was pray that Eddie and the Elmonts didn’t show up with a shovel.

  Chapter Ten

  H olt tossed the broken hunk of metal into the bed of the truck. He’d spent most of the morning figuring out the problem with the engine and getting to it. Now he had to find a replacement for the failed part.

  After stripping off his filthy gloves, he tucked those into a green plastic bucket affixed to the inside of the truck bed by an elastic band. Next, he unsnapped and peeled off his quilted coveralls to cram them into the bucket on top of the gloves, leaving him standing in jeans and a white, long-sleeved insulated knit shirt. His hard hat went into the bucket last, becoming a protective lid of sorts.

  Reaching into the rear compartment of the truck cab, he took out his heavy canvas coat and quickly donned it before sliding beneath the steering wheel. A billed cap, bearing the silhouette of an old wood derrick spouting the words “Jefford Drilling and Exploration,” rested on the dash. He pulled that on, settling the bill just so, before turning the keys that dangled from the ignition switch.

  The truck engine rumbled to life. As he wheeled the vehicle around the lot to the side of the drilling platform, he lowered the window and hung an elbow out of it.

  “You men pick up around here, thread, dope and cap enough pipe to get us through the next couple days, then clock out and go on home. I’ll see you in the morning. And don’t forget to padlock the gate.”

  The crew waved a few grimy salutes and nodded their yellow hard hats. On one hand, it was busy work to keep them from losing a full day’s pay. On another, with enough pipe threaded and ready for coupling and all hands on the deck when they started to drill in the morning, they ought to be able to make up for lost time, provided he got the engine up and running again.

  Lots of drilling sites operated twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, but those belonged to larger outfits that primarily serviced the major oil companies. Holt preferred to work for himself. He paid good money for geologists reports, made his own assays and negotiated his own leases on percentage, then sold any resulting oil to middlemen who, in turn, passed it to refiners. That meant sinking his own funds in
to the drilling operations, most of which came up dry. He had enough wells operating to keep the business going, though, with three portable rigs and two crews, one of which was punching holes up in the panhandle right now.

  Holt prided himself on being able to offer steady work, with very little actual downtime. He took just enough of the profits to keep himself housed, fed and clothed, turned a good bit back into the business, banked as much as possible, and felt pretty good about providing incomes for a number of families. Working for himself meant doing a lot more than scouting leases and supervising operations, though. It also meant looking for replacement parts and working on his own equipment when the need arose.

  He’d drive to Duncan in search of the part first, he decided, but if he couldn’t find the thing there he’d have to head to Lawton or points even farther afield, which could make for a very long day, indeed. He used his cell phone to call the motel and let Hap know where he’d be. Hap had a dozen questions, so Holt spent almost the entire drive explaining the situation, including the fact that he’d leased his extra rig.

  Though a cantankerous old thing, the third rig in his operation provided backup when another went down due to catastrophic mechanical failure of some sort. On the other hand, it mostly sat around in a field out behind his barn rusting and attracting field mice. He’d figured he might as well make some money off it, even if said money only went to repairing one of the two newer rigs.

  With small operations like his, things went wrong about as many days as they didn’t, but wrong could usually get made right in a relatively short period of time. Those days when nothing went right, Holt accounted as “patience” days, days the Lord set aside to teach him patience. Nobody had to tell him that he was a slower learner.

  Today, he almost felt grateful for the distraction. He hadn’t been able to get Cara Jane off his mind even for a minute these past couple days. He couldn’t help wondering what she’d needed to talk over with Grover. She seemed open and curious about spiritual matters, but he doubted that she had a full understanding of them. Could a Christian woman lie to his face? To Hap’s? At this point, just one thing kept him from demanding some straight answers, the fear that he might actually have her entirely right—or entirely wrong. He couldn’t decide which would be worse.