Hearts Crossing Ranch Anthology

by Tanya Hanson

  All they’d ever have was this weekend.

  5

  Back at the ranch, Mallie’s heart both pittered and panged when the wedding party drove off for the rehearsal late that afternoon. Lovely beyond words, Christy wore a lacy white dress pretty enough for a bridal gown, and left her silly fake veil at home. The pang, Mallie realized, wasn’t so much for the reality that she would never be a bride, but because Hoop wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity. He wouldn’t be walking up to her with his noisy boot heels or interrupting her thoughts with his storybook drawl. She missed him.

  Warming her toes in front of the massive river-rock fireplace, she busied herself with her smart phone in the big front room. Mrs. Martin had laid out a spread of down-home hors d’oeuvres before she left for, as she called it, her MOG duties, and Mallie had made good use of the meatballs simmering in Kelley’s specialty barbeque sauce, the Indian fry bread, and the homemade biscuits with raspberry butter. Right now, Mallie couldn’t imagine a tummy empty enough for the feast soon to follow.

  Other guests wandered in and out with plates of snacks, sat and gabbed, but most left her alone like anybody left somebody heavily involved in their phone, the twenty-first century’s most important accessory. The cell service at the ranch was spotty but the wireless was strong. Mallie loved people, and she was told her vibrant personality attracted them like flies, but the late afternoon seemed good for some alone time. Yet she didn’t want to be by herself in her room upstairs. The hustle-bustle of the Hearts Crossing Ranch was too good to miss.

  Her first stop on the web was a testicular cancer site. Yeah, the cure rate was high, almost 90%. The disease almost never spread to the remaining testicle, but it did a job on lungs, brain, and lymphatic system. Surgery could oftentimes fix all of that, and the chemotherapy protocol, while brutal and fraught with complications, was usually successful. She didn’t read any more. Glioma always came back. She grunted. It was the un-gift that keeps on giving.

  Her eyes misted at the unfairness of it all. Of any healthy young person including Hooper having to face misery, complications. Death. Most cancer patients she knew took life one day at a time. Looking forward caused unreasonable panic, and she hated wasting time on it. 401Ks, saving for a house, looking at a handsome man as if he could be a future spouse—these were luxuries she didn’t allow herself.

  Maybe that was the reason for the expensive but painful shoes she hadn’t been able to resist. She grinned.

  Before closing down she checked her inbox, and her heart hammered at the painful header on the latest e-mail. Renny, the almost-seven year hero of her support group, had died.

  So much for prayers. So much for good thoughts. Pain clamped her so tight her leg muscles barely allowed her to stand. She needed quiet, she needed privacy. But Mr. and Mrs. Densmore, whose daughter Daisy was soon to wed Pike Martin, were busily decorating the banisters with yards of white tulle and yellow satin bows, and Mallie’s eyes blurred with too many tears to try to find the back staircase off the kitchen.

  To her right, in the hallway outside the front room, a big open door led into an empty room. An office. She closed the door behind her and huddled on a large couch stuffed with Navajo-print cushions. A torrent of grief and tears consumed her.

  Renny. Sobs ripped at her throat, and the physical pain of grieving racked her ribs. Prayer was beyond her. How could God be so cruel?

  She had to stop the heaves or stop breathing itself. So she sat up, trying to catch her breath, rubbing dripping mascara from her face. If Hooper had been close enough to offer the comfort of his arms, she might have been OK, but he was miles away. She ached for him, too. When she circled her head to ease her tense shoulders a painting hanging over the small fireplace caught her eye.

  She walked over on shaky knees to take a closer look. It was amateurish; she’d visited the great museums of Europe and knew how to tell. But the technique and perspective had a Grandma Moses charm. And the subject matter was almost beyond her imagination.

  A figure she recognized as Jesus Christ stood holding in His arms a small, rugged bighorn sheep, not the well-shorn baby lamb of a nativity scene. Jesus wore a brown, fringed robe and gazed across mountains that looked much like the range outside Hearts Crossing. Way off to the left, red rocks evoking faraway Sedona gleamed copper and crimson in the textured oil paint. Shivering, she took in each brushstroke and ached to touch the painted figure. Jesus was so real. He could be right here at the ranch.

  But Renny wasn’t ever going to be with his loving family again. What kind of God did that? The torrential tears started again. She stumbled to the couch and collapsed. What do you say to a thirty-five-year-old widow with three young kids? Let cell phone do it for you in a heartfelt but cowardly text? Send flowers? Donate to their college fund?

  If she hadn’t left California, she’d at least be there to hold Sherry’s hand. Instead, she’d made this trip to help out her brother’s busted ego and run into the complication of Hooper Martin.

  ****

  Hoop burned with both hope and hurt as Christy and Kenn walked up the aisle. As the last of the sunset spread gold and bronze across the open-sided little church, fresh air filled with the scent of pine covered him. Holding a paper-plate bouquet stuffed with ribbons and bows, Christy looked as pretty as tomorrow in a frilly white dress, and Kenn, well, he glowed like he’d already glimpsed Heaven.

  Kenn had apologized profusely for his slip-up, and Hoop, well, he never stayed mad at anybody for long. Besides, maybe it was lucky Mallie already knew.

  The lovebirds were practicing the start on the pathway of their life together, handsome and hopeful as all get out, and Hoop was thrilled for them, make no mistake, but knew he had a long road ahead to find anything similar.

  Then he reminded himself: God did provide. If Hoop didn’t believe that, he’d have lost his mind and his faith long ago. The Lord truly never sent more than you could bear, no matter how dark the day, how bad the news. God had blessed Hearts Crossing many times when finances looked hopeless, had provided doctors with treatments either to heal or to ease. God had strengthened the faith necessary to accept each burden with grace and trust.

  And now, He sent Hoop the philosophy that every day was a gift. Every part of a day was a gift. Hooper wasn’t sure why, but the thought sent an image of Mallie Cameron shimmering in his mind.

  For a flash, he wondered what she was doing right now, back at the ranch. He missed her. Simple as that.

  He sighed. After everybody learned their places and Pastor Hale marked the floor with chalk, Ma turned off the CD with finality. Canned music was as good as they could do since the string quartet wouldn’t show up until tomorrow. Excitement tickled Hoop’s neck. He couldn’t wait to get back to Hearts Crossing.

  To Mallie.

  Pastor Hale gently patted the leaf-covered altar. “Beautiful work. Brilliant idea. I’ll be bringing a standing cross tomorrow.”

  Hoop smiled at the altar. “That’s all Rachel. Ella helped. And Brian’s sister.” He indicated the groomsman, but Pastor Hale, a genius with names, already knew.

  “Ah, Malia.”

  Obviously knew her, too. Or Kenn or Brian had led it slip again. That had to be a good thing, though, having a preacher man beseech heaven on your behalf. It had sure worked for Hoop.

  He thought about Mallie all the drive back to the ranch. She’d promised to be his date. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

  “She’s a real pretty girl, that Mallie,” Kenn said casually, riding shotgun in Hoop’s red truck. Hoop startled a bit. It was like his brother had peeked into his thoughts. In the backseat of the stretch cab, Christy cuddled Ella, who was sound asleep in her booster seat. “And I watched her with Ella. She’s a natural.”

  Hoop heard himself sigh. “Aw, I don’t deny thinking the same thing. But she’s just here for the weekend.”

  “But she wasn’t even going to be here. Not until the last minute. Don’t you think that means something?” Christy asked,
ever the romantic.

  Hoop turned off the main road into the long drive up to the ranch house.

  “Maybe. But whatever it might be, I’m gonna ease into this.” He couldn’t help recalling the sparks with Lynn that had exploded quickly only to burn out way too soon. “I’m not one of these love-at-first-sight sorts like you two.” He forced a chuckle and nodded backward at Christy.

  “We all had considerable baggage, Hoop,” Christy said, softly. Hoop recalled her struggles with faith and anger following her father’s fatal car accident, the result of a drunk driver, and Daisy’s bitter breakup with Kenn and disastrous marriage with Kenn’s nemesis. But Kenn had rediscovered his own broken faith all due to Christy’s love, and Pike had looked past Daisy’s foibles and seen her inner beauty. “Every relationship worth anything takes some working out.”

  “Well, cancer’s a different kind of baggage. You gotta admit,” Hoop reminded her. “Especially testicular. Who knows what issues I might have…” He cleared his throat. “...with intimacy. And, well, this time around, it’s a double whammy with Mallie.”

  Fortunately, he pulled up to the parking area at Hearts Crossing to whoops and hollers from a horde of buddies holding plates of grub, a good end to the conversation. Ella was waking up anyway. Yep, she’d fallen asleep for about ten minutes and likely considered that a bona fide nap. She’d no doubt be up until midnight while he was already feeling tiredness seeping into his bones.

  His little girl spruced up quick and glommed onto Christy, holding the bride’s hand with her right. In her left was her practice flower girl basket that she swung with force. At least Hoop had some free time now.

  Free time to find Mallie. After a quick kiss atop Ella’s head, he headed toward the house where his stomach rumbled a bit at recollection of the appetizers Ma had set out.

  “Hey, Hoop?” Behind his scurrying boots, Kenn’s voice tweaked with a tad of nerves. “You know where I put the belt buckles I got for groomsmen gifts?”

  They were silver, beautiful Western-styles engraved with the date and the Hearts Crossing brand.

  Hoop caught sight of Christy’s eye roll and distinctly heard her tsk. He stepped up quick to defend his brother. “Yep. Got the little goody bags safe in the study. You want I retrieve ’em now?”

  Kenn gave out some sort of sound without any vowels. “Yeah. Well, just get two of them. I see Brian and Bragg.”

  “All righty.”

  Inside the entry way, he made room for his Stetson on the bent willow rack along with a bunch of others, pleased by the memories roused at sight of the brown Stetson that Mallie had worn earlier. Just the thought sent his spine skittering with crazy, delicious shivers. He wanted to find her, now.

  As ranch foreman, he always took care of Hearts Crossing’s visitors, but he ached to be with Mallie. Now, though, he mingled a bit, worked through the small groups chatting over plates with greetings and halloes, disappointed she wasn’t among them. With a sigh, he recalled his errand to deliver a couple of the groomsmen gifts. He’d have to search out Mallie later.

  Opening the door to Pa’s study, which was his now, his heart started pounding like a locomotive driving through a snow shed. Panic swamped him when he recognized Mallie jumbled on the couch. There was no mistaking that trademark hair.

  Had she collapsed? Was she…OK?

  “Mallie? Mallie!” He rushed over as she sat up and looked at him, eyelashes drenched with tears. “Are you all right? What is it?”

  With a loud sniff, she nodded. “Me, yes. But Renny’s dead.” Sobs shook her shoulders, and he did what any self-respecting man would do. He sat next to her and pulled her close.

  “Ah, honey. It’ll be all right. It will. I promise.” Hoop didn’t know who Renny was, but he did know Mallie’s heart was broken.

  For a long moment, their arms wrapped around each other, and her head buried against his shoulder. The lemony scent of her filled him, and no matter the seriousness of the moment, he had to admit to a flash of man-woman response. The old clock on the mantelpiece tick-tocked in rhythm with his heartbeat. Hers too. He could feel it against his chest.

  Finally, Mallie pulled away and used the edge of her blue sweater to dry her matching eyes. “No, it won’t be all right, Hooper. He died. Left a young wife and three kids.”

  Then he got it. “Somebody from your support group.” It wasn’t even a question. He recognized from his own online loops her guilt at being a survivor, her pain.

  She took a deep breath and sat straight with their thighs touching and restlessly smoothed her jeans from hip to knee.

  “Yes. He’d made it more than six years. There’s no statistic yet that glioma doesn’t come back. Glioma’s nature, well, it’s like a drop of ink in a glass of water.” She looked away but laid her hand on his. “You can spoon the drop out, but invisible tendrils remain. Just like the wisps of malignancy. But he was beating it. There’s always a first time. Then he had a setback. They even tried an experimental vaccine made from his tumor. I guess you can’t help reaching for a miracle.”

  “I know how you feel. Yeah, I know people always say that, but in this case, I truly do.”

  She raised bleak eyes to his, and he felt the right thing was an arm across her shoulders.

  He shrugged. “My support group is online. T.C. is rare enough and in a small town, well, I had nobody. I lost a friend recently. Paul died on Labor Day. His wife sent a frantic e-mail for advice. Which his doctor didn’t take.” Hoop once again felt the rage and the pain. Paul hadn’t been a believer. He’d had no faith to sustain him. “And he passed.”

  Mallie’s eyebrows drew together. “But T.C. is pretty curable.”

  “Yeah. If caught early and you respond well to the chemo. But the complications to the surgeries and treatments can be severe.” He might as well confide in her like she was doing with him. “I’m in remission now, but I won’t be considered cured for many years. And chemo almost killed me. My treatment was the protocol nine weeks, and by the eighth, I…” He couldn’t find words. Reliving the nightmare was never a good thing. God had been right there holding his hand, but Ma said many mornings she thought her oldest son had died in the night.

  For a long while, their heartbeats merged again.

  “I ended up hospitalized in a bubble room,” he finally continued. “No white count or blood pressure to speak of.” Ma had aged about twenty years, but she’d never cried in front of him. Ironic. The day he’d been sickest the doctor had announced remission. The scan’s clear. It’s not been for naught. You’re cancer free.

  For now.

  There wasn’t much else Hoop could say to relieve the doubt and pain in Mallie’s gaze, so he told her the truth. “God never sends us more than we can bear.”

  “So I hear.” Mallie’s lids dropped and even with her reddened cheeks and tear-stained face, he couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. However, he’d long decided any woman in his life would need to be a woman of faith and courage. It wasn’t exactly a first-date subject, yet in this conversation, the time was definitely right. Mallie’s tone held too much defeat and cynicism.

  “You do know God, don’t you, Mallie?”

  “There are no atheists in foxholes, Hoop.” Her tone tweaked with bitterness. “Of course. But God’s Somebody up there, right? Not here where you need Him. I mean, some call Him Allah and some Buddha and Vishnu and, what? Zeus? Isn’t He just some powerful Almighty that can help you if He wants and then throw thunderbolts at you next time around?” She lifted her face to his, and her sadness broke his heart.

  “No thunderbolts. Zeus is a legend. A legend I admire, but a legend is all. But God is my Father, and His Son Jesus Christ is my Savior and best friend.” His right arm tightened around her shoulders, but his left turned her chin to face him. “I not only can look forward to eternal life in Heaven, but I can count on Him here, day after day, getting me through this life. Getting me ready for the life to come.”

  Her summer sky eyes widened. �
�All that sounds beautiful, Hoop. Another legend, in my opinion. But I don’t need to get ready for some afterlife. I’ve got things going on in the here and now that are tearing my heart apart and hurting people I love. How does that show me a best friend or loving Father?” She lowered her face to sniff loudly against his shoulder.

  “God doesn’t always give us what we ask for when we ask for it.” Hoop said gently, curling his chin around the top of her head as it rested against his chest.

  “You got that right.”

  “But He does care. He won’t let you down. He never leaves or forsakes us. That’s His holy promise to us.”

  “Well, I don’t feel very cared for right now. I feel alone, tired, and scared.”

  “With Jesus Christ at your side, you’re never alone.”

  “Renny was our standard-bearer, Hoop,” she burst out, eyes bright, almost wild. “The longest of us to survive. That was hope. Now there isn’t any. I am going to die, Hooper. A lot sooner than other thirty year olds.”

  Hoop tightened his embrace. He’d faced death himself, and cancer wasn’t an easy thing to live with even when the prognosis was good and you knew Heaven awaited you. After all, part of his wanting a new mom for Ella was just in case he didn’t make it.

  God, give me the words to help her. Let me be an instrument of Your peace, Your healing. His silent prayer made his heart bold.

  “I’ll die sometime, too, Mallie. Everyone will. But thereafter, I’ll know the gift of salvation. For in Jesus Christ, I’ll never die. Do you know Him, Mallie?”

  She shrugged against him. “I guess so. But maybe not in the way you do. Mom always puts on a nativity scene at Christmas.” Her hand moved up his arm. “She got it in Bethlehem. It’s carved out of olive wood.”

  “Do you go to Him in prayer?”

  “Of course. I mean, I prayed to Something, Somebody when, you know. When I needed to. Isn’t He God?”