Farraday Country

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Farraday Country Page 52

by Chris Keniston


  Right about when those words ricocheted in his mind like a pinball on steroids was when Sean dug out the old album that Helen had played so often. He’d listened to the entire first side of the LP and the first song on the flip side had just begun to play. Images of Eileen in the pub—her eyes closed, her voice the perfect instrument for the sultry jazz tune—swayed with the rhythms from the overhead speakers. In love. His son had to be wrong. He couldn’t lose another woman in his life. Letting his sister-in-law go was one thing, but losing a life partner... Finn had to be wrong.

  “Maybe it’s time you did something about it.”

  Sean sucked in a ragged breath. When had things changed? How long ago had he stopped thinking of Eileen as his wife’s sister? He had to face the truth, so long ago he didn’t have a clue when it happened. But in love?

  The front door pushed open and Sean stood from his seat, hurrying to turn off the music before one of his sons recognized the voice and used it to further make Finn’s point. Slowing his pace, his eyes drifted closed. “I think the man doth protest too much.” Had he really heard Helen’s voice laughing at his sudden sense of panic?

  “I didn’t know you still had this record.” Eileen inched her way to the stereo and smiled. “Not bad.”

  “Better than not bad. Much better.” He took in the sweet expression on her face as she listened to her own voice crooning “Summertime.” Gorgeous didn’t begin to describe her. No wonder Glenn was back. “I thought you were going out to dinner?”

  “Storm’s coming in. Didn’t think it safe to drive all the way to Butler Springs.”

  “You could have stayed in town.” He refrained from saying should have, at least if he wanted to keep her from handing him his head on a silver platter.

  She shrugged a lazy shoulder. “I like to be home in case of anything.”

  “Anything?” How much longer would she think of this as home? Her home.

  “You know,” she lifted her chin toward the gas lanterns on the shelf, “power outages, roof leaks, whatever.” Thunder cracked overhead and she shuddered before taking a step closer to the shelves. “We might be needing these tonight.”

  As if proving her point, thunder struck again and he nodded. “Good thing the generators are ready to go.”

  Stretching his arm forward, his hand brushed against hers and for the first time ever, he’d have sworn the static electricity in the room was off the charts. By the way Eileen’s hand jerked away and her gaze leveled with his, he’d have sworn in court that she felt it too.

  On an awkward huff, he took a step back and regrouped. He was letting his imagination run away with him. The power of suggestion, Finn’s suggestion, was getting the better of him. He set the gas lamp on the center of the coffee table.

  Eileen set the other across the room on the side table by the stereo. “I’ll fix us something to eat.”

  Sean nodded and followed her into the kitchen. Not that he could eat a bite, his head and his heart were completely off balance. Throughout the next song they moved side by side. Sean chopped cucumbers for a salad, Eileen transferred a small casserole from the fridge to the oven. The table was set and drinks were poured.

  One song faded away and the silken sounds of “Somewhere” broke the silence.

  “Maybe it’s time you did something.”

  Turning to face Eileen, he reminded himself anything worth fighting for was worth taking a risk. Extending one hand out in front of her, he cleared his throat. “May I have this dance?”

  Eileen blinked once and then again, and for a split second he thought she might wave him off as being silly, but she didn’t. The corners of her mouth shifted slightly as she took hold of his hand.

  Twirling her into the fold of his arms, he swayed with the rhythm, thankful for the spacious kitchen, ignoring Sister Mary Rose’s admonition to always leave enough space when dancing for the Holy Ghost. Eileen fit perfectly against him. If she’d lean in a little closer, her head would tuck in perfectly under his chin.

  Right now, more than anything he wanted to pull her more closely against him. Instead he twirled her out and around, and when she returned once again curling into his shoulder, he slowed his steps, breathing in the scent of her, savoring the feel of her.

  The final chorus played. The recorded Eileen of years ago sang out loud and strong, hanging on every beat. Sean wished this song, this moment could go on forever. Brother was he in trouble. Especially if he did what he was thinking. Wanting. The music stopped. The room fell into heavy silence. The only thing he could hear was the beat of his own heart, and then, the piercing shrill of the weather alert radio.

  Pulling apart, he lowered his eyes and stepped back. Both their voices tumbling over each other, “Tornado.”

  ****

  “Tornado Warning.” Ethan sprang from his spot on the sofa.

  Fancy blinked. “Tornado?”

  “Warning,” Ethan repeated.

  Fancy turned to Garrett who merely waved his hands and shrugged.

  “Laundry room. Now.” Meg pointed down the hall, spun around and hurried to the base of the stairs in time to see Glenn tearing down the steps.

  “Is that what I think it is?” he asked, following Meg back to the kitchen.

  Allison looked to the staircase. “Anyone else in the house?”

  “No.” Without slowing, Meg grabbed a flashlight from above a shelf in the kitchen and kept moving. “Everyone else checked out by lunchtime.”

  Following the crowd, Fancy figured this was something like earthquakes in California, only instead of standing in a doorway they were heading for the laundry room. That part she wasn’t terribly sure of why.

  Her confusion must have shown on her face. The second she crossed the doorway into the surprisingly large laundry room, Ethan closed the door behind them and explained, “Tornado watch means that the weather conditions are good for tornadoes. Warning means one’s been spotted nearby and we need to take cover.”

  “The laundry room,” she mumbled.

  “For us, yes,” Meg said. “It’s the only windowless room in the center of the house on the first level. Some of the old ranch houses have actual storm cellars, but this is the best we have.”

  In the closed room, Fancy stood against the wall to one side of her and with Garrett on the other.

  Opening cabinet doors that revealed a large storage closet, Meg pulled out multiple cushions, blankets, and more flashlights. “If anyone gets hungry I have snacks and water in here too.”

  “How long do you expect to be stuck here?” Garrett asked.

  Arms laden down with more cushions, Meg spun her head over her shoulder. “If the tornado doesn’t reach us, not long. Maybe less than an hour till we get the all clear.”

  “And if it does reach us?” Fancy found the idea of a tornado even more unsettling than earthquakes.

  Ethan, Allison and Meg exchanged a quick glance, but Ethan was the one who answered, “Pray for the best.”

  “What about Adam?” Fancy’s gaze shot to the closed door.

  Meg set what looked like outdoor patio cushions on the ground. “He’ll be hunkered down at the clinic with his staff and any animals.”

  “Oh, the dog,” Fancy gasped.

  “Dog?” Meg froze mid toss of a cushion. “What dog?”

  “The beautiful wolfhound.”

  This time more than one head spun around to stare at her.

  “At first I thought it was a wolf, but he was so friendly and well trained I realized he had to be a cattle dog mix.”

  At the still stricken look on Meg’s face, Fancy continued, “You know, the one that guards the vet offices.”

  Meg’s, “You know where Adam’s vet clinic is?” collided with Ethan’s, “When did you see this dog?”

  Reaching for her hand, Garrett barely covered hers before pulling away and nodding for her to tell her story.

  “I guess I should start at the beginning.”

  “That would be good.” Ethan crossed h
is arms.

  Fancy took in the cushions dispersed with blankets, snacks and flashlights on the ground. “We might as well make ourselves comfortable.” This was going to take a while.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The back door to the ranch banged open and Connor flew in, cradling Stacey in his arms with Catherine on his heels with Brittany snuggled against her. “Paul Brady called to let us know a tornado was spotted just east of his place and it’s heading this way.”

  The occasional need to take cover in the storm cellar was a fact of life that came with living in Tornado Alley. This wouldn’t be the first time the Farradays had ridden out a storm in the old cellar. The original homestead had come with a root cellar. Somewhere along the way it was converted to a storm cellar and Sean’s father was the one to modernize it into a solid structure that would keep his family safe even if Dorothy and the Wicked Witch of the West came whirling past riding a Kansas Tornado.

  Sean narrowed his gaze out the kitchen window. “That sky looks ugly. We’d better hurry.”

  No sooner had Sean led the way out the back door than the wind that had already been strong enough to carry a hen across the county kicked up a notch, nearly knocking him back into the house. Keeping close to his son and daughter-in-law, Sean looped his arm around Eileen and shuffled them the few feet to cellar doors that nearly swung off the hinges when he pulled them open.

  At the same moment, Eileen and Sean glanced up at the nasty clouds. She could almost feel the air still as each of them sucked in a breath and failed to exhale, until they softly muttered, “Oh, shit.”

  One of the first things she’d learned about storms in Texas was that if you see a tornado moving across the horizon, you’ll be fine. On the other hand, if it appears to be standing still, run for the hills as the thing is coming straight at you. This skinny funnel in the distance was dancing in place.

  “What about the animals?” Catherine pointed over her shoulder as she descended the steps.

  Eileen huddled behind Connor, following Catherine downstairs and not till the doors closed and were bolted behind them did Sean answer. “They’re safer in the stalls. If that thing doesn’t shift course, the barn might lose a roof but the animals will be mostly safe.”

  Frowning, it was obvious Catherine believed her father-in-law, but didn’t understand why.

  “All the senses that tell a horse where to go under normal weather conditions disappear in the turmoil of an impending tornado. On top of that, the flying debris from fence posts and missing roofs can be as deadly as the tornado. They’ll be fine where they are.”

  This was only the third time in all these years since Eileen had moved in that the storm warnings were close enough to send them running to the cellar for cover. Eileen didn’t like the anxious feeling any more now than she had the last two times. Back then the tornadoes had touched down, danced around, but hadn’t come close enough to the ranch to do any damage. Except back then she hadn’t had time to see one. The hairs on her arm stood upright and an icy chill slid down her spine as unsettling as if someone had dropped a frozen cube along her back.

  At this moment she didn’t give a hoot about the singing, the show, Glenn or her forgotten dreams. All she wanted was for her family to be safe. Each and every one of them. Her gaze shifted to the man seated beside her, his arm protectively draped around her, his gaze staring up at the doors. Concentration and concern clearly painted on his face. And maybe she wouldn’t mind another dance with Sean Farraday.

  ****

  “Living in San Diego had taken my life from bad to worse,” Fancy started, ignoring her sister’s silent shudder.

  Immediately, Ethan enfolded Allison’s hand in his.

  “That scumbag Damien had me convinced he was my ticket to Hollywood fame and fortune. Even after the first scrape with the drug charges and him dragging me to San Diego, I still believed in him. Was afraid not to.” She slipped her hand out from under Garrett’s and rubbed both palms against her legs. “I might be a little slow sometimes, but I’ve never been totally stupid. By the second time I almost wound up in jail taking the rap for him, what little smarts Mama infused in me kicked in.”

  Allison’s heartbroken expression lifted momentarily at the mention of their mother.

  “The problem I struggled with was that without Damien, I didn’t have any money, any place to go, or anyone to turn to.”

  “So you wound up at the Salty Dog,” Ethan volunteered.

  Fancy nodded. Now that her life had become something akin to normal, the idea of that being the first place she thought to go to find a way out actually made her cringe at her own stupidity. Well, maybe not totally stupid. She did find Ethan.

  “Desperation makes a person do things no sane human being would. Add that I might have had a little too much to drink.” Her gaze shifted to Ethan, silently taking in her side of the story.

  Always the gentleman. She’d learned that much about him in the few short days they’d been together. No way would he confirm what she’d skirted around, but he knew she’d been a helluva lot more than tipsy, and truth was, she knew it too, but saying so now came…hard.

  Folding her hands in her lap, she noticed a sunflower poster on the wall. So like Meg, pleasant and sunny, even if doing laundry. Keeping her eye on the positive image, she pushed forward with her story. “That’s when I found myself having to choose between the lesser of two evils.”

  Ethan’s brow shot up high on his forehead.

  His near comical reaction was almost enough to make Fancy smile. Almost. Then her mind flashed back to the sheer terror that had swallowed her whole when she realized there would be no solutions, temporary or otherwise, from the sailor determined to get something for all the booze he’d bought her. “The slobbering drunk with a vicious grip, or the stone-faced mountain of a man with the nerve to take Mr. Grip on.”

  “I suppose,” Ethan hefted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, “stone-faced is marginally more flattering than the lesser of two evils.”

  Fancy couldn’t bring herself to smile at the concession. The fear clutching her heart at the moment she’d had to choose came rushing back as noxious and menacing as it had been that fateful night. “Anyhow, I clearly made the right choice, and by the time a few days had passed and I’d moved on to Kathy’s house, I had a better sense of what I needed to do. Find a real job even if it meant waiting tables again. Find a real agent if I wanted to give Hollywood one more try, and I did. Only no sooner had I found a job and started the agent hunt again then I realized I was pregnant.”

  Allison and Ethan nodded in near perfect unison. That made Fancy smile. She wondered if they realized how much they did exactly alike, like a matching set of salt and pepper shakers, or souvenir bobbleheads.

  “I thought it was a sign. A new corner. A new me. Only,” she sucked in a ragged breath, “it wasn’t a new me. It was a scared me. I did my best. I really did. I didn’t want anyone else to take care of her. Didn’t trust them, but you can’t work and take care of a baby. And talk about no sleep. Half the time I wasn’t sure if I was coming or going or stuck somewhere in the middle. And I was supposed to keep this up for years to come and still raise her to be smart, and caring, and thoughtful of others. Everything her father was.”

  The muscles at the base of Ethan’s jaw began to twitch in alternating rhythm.

  “Everything about your family and home seemed so perfect. Too perfect. But I had to find out. It was easy enough to track the family down from the information you’d given me. So I gathered every cent I had, packed Brittany up into a coughing jalopy I bought and headed east.”

  “They are,” Meg said from across the room. “It’s none of my business, but this family is the stuff that movies are made from.”

  Fancy nodded. So she’d figured out very quickly. “Originally I was only going to ask for help.”

  “You could have come to me,” Ethan added.

  “That,” she blew out a sigh, “was more challenging. I’d los
t the paper you gave me with your contact info and the Marines aren’t exactly forthcoming with how to reach out to their servicemen, at least not the ones who they train for things I probably don’t want to know about.”

  Heaving in a deep breath, he dipped his chin once. They both knew she was right.

  “And me?” Allison asked.

  Fancy’s heart tripped at the lost and yet hopeful expression on her sister’s face. “South America.”

  Allison nodded.

  “Anyhow, I don’t know what I thought I’d find, but not until I pulled into this sleepy little town did I realize it was everything I wanted my daughter to know about life. So I got a room at the bargain motel just outside of Butler Springs and every day I’d come back here and watch.”

  “Every day?” Ethan asked.

  Fancy nodded.

  “For how long?” Allison squinted in thought at her sister.

  “A week.”

  “A week.” Ethan almost lunged forward. “You stalked my family for a week?”

  “Not stalked,” she shook her head, “observed. Turns out your brother the vet really would step in front of bus before he’d step on an ant, your brother the police chief plays basketball with some of the local teens on his afternoons off—and by the way, any moron could have seen he was in love with Adam’s receptionist. The doctor has the bedside manner of an angel, at least that’s what the two ladies at the boutique said. Apparently, he’s one notch short of the saint your youngest brother is.”

  “Not sure I want to know what they said about me.” Ethan shifted his weight but never let go of his wife.

  Laughing now was easier. Fancy smothered a soft chuckle. “You I already knew about. Anyhow, your aunt has the respect of this entire town and your father is like Roy Rogers, never met a man he didn’t like, or who didn’t like him. And that’s when I knew. The best thing I could do for Brittany—at the time—was give her a normal family like this.”

  “How do you go from worrying about her every hour to leaving her in a box in front of the police station?” Ethan asked.

 

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