“We’ve got to get her into dry clothes and then to a hospital,” said Tayte, who was barely keeping it together.
“I don’t think moving her to a strange place is a good idea right now.”
“It’s like she suffered a stroke or something. Just look at her.”
Noah ran his hands through his hair. “Something’s definitely wrong. The only word she’s said was ‘home.’ This place is her security. I don’t think we should deprive her of that.”
“We can’t leave her like this.”
“Let’s get her dry and at least let her rest here tonight. The creek is well over the lane right now. No ambulance could get in, and we’d have a hard time getting out over the hill.”
Tayte fell against Noah’s chest. “I should have ordered that alarm system.”
Noah kissed her head as he stared at the quaking heap that had once been the vibrant Agnes Devereaux Keller. Then the two began the wrestle to change Agnes’s wet clothes.
In the midst of the battle, Noah’s phone rang. By the time he dug it from his wet pocket, the call ended. He looked at the screen. “It’s from my cousin Sam. And I missed an earlier text from him. Probably when I was in the woods looking for Agnes.” His face blanched. “I need to take this.”
“Oh, no, Noah! I’m sorry! Of course. Go. I can manage here.”
Clutching the phone, Noah exited the room through the porch door, walking to the far end to be alone. A buzz from the phone indicated a recorded message. He read the text first.
Noah, Dad slipped into a coma. I don’t know how long he’ll linger. Of course we’d love you to be here with us, but considering the weather, we understand if you can’t. We know you’re very needed there. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now, so we understand. We’ll call you with updates.
Noah allowed his body to fall against a post. He feared what the recorded message would say. With shaking hands, he played the recording.
Noah, Dad passed away peacefully at 11:49. The coroner is on his way. The girls are with Mom. We’ll call in the morning. Mom asked me to give you her love. You have ours too.
Coldness swept over Noah. He’d never lost anyone he cared about, at least not to death. He felt the enormity of its grip. He’d never see his uncle again, never enjoy the comforting wisdom he’d come to rely on, or feel his uncle’s strong hand on his shoulder. He moved past his own pain to consider how great the suffering must be for those who’d always known John Anderson’s love. It was too painful to fathom.
The screen door squeaked, a prelude to Tayte’s voice, which asked, “Are you all right?”
He shook his head and extended his arm which she willingly moved into. “Uncle John’s gone.”
“I’m so sorry, Noah. It’s my fault you weren’t able to be with your family tonight.”
“My family is here now.”
Tayte nestled in closer. They stood there together for several minutes, saying little while grieving over their joint trials. It had been a hard day on all counts.
Tayte touched a wound on his face. “You’re hurt. Let me tend to these cuts.”
“Give me a moment?”
“Okay. I’ll get the first aid kit and meet you in Grandma’s room.”
The door closed again. Noah opened the phone and replayed the agonizing message. He wanted to call and connect with his family, to offer some support, and to find a place to dump his own sorrow, but he knew he could not find the words. He pressed his face into the wet sleeve of his shirt and cried tears that soaked into the fabric. His tears weren’t sufficient to free himself from the swelling ache in his chest. He wanted a release from the hurt, but the old options felt obscene to him this night. He balled his fist and pounded the post until the need eased. Then he rested there as images of Uncle John moved across the screen of his mind. In the end, all he felt was love.
Pulling out his phone, he offered a simple text of his own to his family.
I’m so very sorry. Please give my love to everyone, especially your mom.
Noah walked back to Agnes’s room and slumped into the old overstuffed chair in the corner where Tayte waited with bandages at the ready. He studied her as she gently attended to his wounds, awed by how their fortunes had shifted that day. One broken win. One harrowing loss. In the end, they had found their way back to each other.
When the last bandage was placed, Tayte slipped onto Noah’s lap and curled against him. Their shared warmth lulled her to sleep as Noah kept a vigil over Agnes. He had lost the only man he had ever loved. He was determined not to lose these women as well.
Chapter 24
Though the rains had abated, the creek continued to rise, swelled by water rushing down from the mountain streams. Agnes heard the voices say there would be no leaving the farm this day. She also heard the bleating of the baby goats, but she had no will to tend to them. Instead, she clamped her eyes shut, denying their needs while focusing on the evil voices echoing in her head, threatening her, threatening her world. Thief! Liar! Traitor! Nazi! Over and over they repeated, though in no particular context, offering her no grounds from which to mount a defense.
Lancelot. Who was he? Was he the thief? The hero? He was her horse. Her escape from the Nazis? She couldn’t remember. All she knew for certain was that the blanket was warm and her stomach was empty, but not empty enough to overcome her desire to sleep. Sleep pushed the words away. Sleep took away the fear embedded in her heart. She couldn’t remember what she was afraid of, but it had to do with the words, so she slept.
A phone ring tugged at Noah’s consciousness, pulling him from the fog of sleep. A semiconscious sweep of his hand wiped at the moist dribble oozing from his half-gaping mouth. A few blinks revealed that he was sitting upright in Agnes’s overstuffed green chair. His arms were empty, and he vaguely remembered carrying Tayte to her bed sometime around three when the bleating goats awakened him for a feeding. They were crying again.
A quick glance at his phone revealed a call from Sam, but before returning it, he checked on Agnes, who was in the same position she’d assumed upon arriving home—balled up on her side, eyes closed. Panic struck him for a second. He couldn’t see the rise and fall of her breathing so he shook her gently, producing an aggravated jerk of her shoulder. Relieved by even that response, he walked onto the back porch and dialed Sam’s number, launching into an apology as soon as his cousin picked up.
Sam’s words cut him off. “Noah, we know you would have been here if you could.”
His guilt eased and he asked, “How’s your mom?”
“She cries on and off, but other than that, she’s doing surprisingly well. I think Dad did a good job preparing her these last few weeks. How’s Agnes? Tayte told me you were helping her when I called. We assumed she was your ongoing ‘situation’ last night.”
Noah combed his hair back with his fingers as he paced, explaining Agnes’s escape and consequent status, as well as the impassibility of the flooded road. Sam asked him a series of questions about Agnes’s gait, speech, mood, vision, and physical condition. Having something else to focus on seemed to calm Sam, but Noah had very little information to offer.
“Do you want my opinion as a doctor or a friend?”
Noah didn’t like his options. “Give me both.”
“As a doctor, I’m obligated to say that an eighty-something-year-old dementia patient who’s suffered a trauma is likely experiencing shock, and though she appears to be in no immediate danger, she should be examined. As a friend who knows Agnes, I’d recommend a few days of rest. See what happens. Keep her comfortable and surround her with the familiar. Maybe try some music therapy. Dementia and Alzheimer’s patients respond favorably to music from their youth. It’s not a magic bullet, but it can’t hurt. The web is loaded with articles on the subject.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to Tayte about all this. It’s her call.”
“I know the creek’s flooded, but can you get to the lane by the top of the hill?”
“If
I hike it. Why?”
“Because the phone has been ringing off the hook all morning from Dad’s friends who heard he passed away last night. They want to fulfill his last request—to help you finish the Eppleys’ deck.”
Noah’s shoulders rounded under the weight of John Anderson’s dying need to make certain Noah completed the project. “Do you have any idea why this mattered so much to him?”
“You don’t?”
“Not really. I thought it was to help a war hero. Then I thought he wanted to get me established as a carpenter. There’s something more to it, isn’t there?”
“I think it’s all that and some. I know how much it pleased him to know all his ‘boys’ were working together the other day. In any case, we have a crew ready to meet at the Eppleys’ in an hour.”
“Your dad just died. You have other pressing needs.”
“Dad planned his funeral, and Jared’s handling those details. The girls are helping Mom pack and close up the house except for one downstairs room for you . . . and the kitchen. Thanks again for agreeing to move back in. It gives Mom comfort to know you’ll be here. The rest of us are at your disposal as per Dad’s written request, penned two days ago.”
Noah gave an incredulous sigh. “Okay. Let me talk to Tayte. I’ll meet you on top of the hill in thirty minutes.”
Noah woke Tayte with a kiss on her head. She rolled over and smiled at him, enjoying a split second’s peace before the reality of the previous night engulfed her. She shot up and surveyed her parlor bedroom, tossing her covers off. “How’d I get here? Is Grandma all right?”
“She’s about the same. Sam doesn’t think she’s in any immediate danger, but he thinks she should be seen by a neurologist when it’s safe to move her. The lane is still under water. It would mean a pretty hair-raising trip across those muddy fields. He can’t diagnose her properly without seeing her, but he said you could give her another day’s rest and see if she snaps out of her melancholy. It’s your call.”
She bit her lip. “Is that what you still think?”
“Yes, but I’ll support whatever you decide.”
Tayte bent her knees to her chest and folded over them. Her knees became a platform for her head, which she laid there, covered by her arms. “All those things I told you about her father possibly being a traitor and a Nazi? I said them to Nathaniel. Loudly. And then we found that curry comb on the floor. Grandma was probably standing in the alcove when I said them.” She raised her glassy eyes to Noah. “I’m afraid she heard everything I said about her father. I also ranted about the farm. I told Nathaniel that if I could, I’d sell all the animals and torch the place to be rid of all the secrets. My words sent her into the storm. She’ll never forgive me now.”
Noah sat beside her and held her. “She might not have heard any of that.”
“But what if she did?” Two tears raced down her cheeks.
“We’ll . . . we’ll handle it. We’ll talk to her. We’ll ask a doctor what to do.” He took her hand, unsure how to segue into the next conversation. “Will you be all right for a few hours?”
“Why? Where are you going? You said yourself the road is flooded.”
“My uncle evidently asked his friends to help me with the Eppleys’ deck. I need to go. Are you all right with that?” He held his breath wondering what he’d do if she said no.
“Of course,” Tayte said with a resigned wave. “I kept you from being with your family last night. Go. I’ll paint in Grandma’s room today. We’re both behind on our deadlines.”
He felt certain she wanted him to stay, but he didn’t offer that possibility. He turned for the door and stopped. “I’ll bring something home for supper, okay?” And then he left.
Sam was waiting at the top of the hill when he crested the last muddy rise. Everett and Blaine offered a wave from the back seat of the truck.
“So this was Uncle John’s last wish?”
Sam nodded. “At least the last he wrote down. Nathaniel brought it to us last night after he heard about Dad’s passing. He’ll be here today, along with seven of Dad’s other friends.”
“Nathaniel had a busy night. He was here too. When is the viewing and funeral?”
Sam explained as he drove. “The only viewing is Friday at ten, followed by the funeral at eleven. Dad didn’t want people ‘gawking’ at him. Mom called your mother and told her about Dad. I don’t think she’s coming. She said something about Duey needing her.”
Noah wasn’t surprised.
“We all fly out on Saturday. Mom will head to California with Jared so he can finish working on the estate details. That will give everyone else a chance to get their kids settled back into their routines before Grandma makes the rounds. I’m glad the children had the chance to say good-bye to Dad. They brought a lot of joy to him and to Mom, but it’s been hard on them too, and now they’ve got the funeral to get through. Those aren’t easy memories.”
Noah understood. He dreaded the final farewell also. An idea came to him but he set it aside.
“Dad requested to have you be a pall bearer. He really loved you. I hope you know that.”
Noah turned to face the window as his hand pressed against his lips for a moment to still them. He nodded. He couldn’t risk attempting a response. Just thinking of his uncle left him raw. The men rode in silence the remainder of the way, allowing the radio to provide a curtain of solitude. Nathaniel Briscoe and seven other men were waiting in trucks and cars when Sam’s truck pulled in. Jenna rushed out of the barn with her mother close behind before Noah managed to exit the vehicle.
“Noah! You came! I was worried you wouldn’t make it. Did you hear? Schools are closed because of the floods.”
He laid a hand on her shoulder. “The roads are very bad out my way too.”
Margot arrived, shaking her head at Jenna. “You promised your father some help today. He’s counting on you.”
A frustrated shrug delayed Jenna’s obedient return by a second, and then she was gone.
“I’m glad she’s excited about this project,” said Noah.
Margot rolled her eyes. “Oh, she has big plans for this deck, but I think she also has a bit of a crush on the builder. Your name comes up about a dozen times a day.”
The thought warmed him. “I don’t mind her hanging around. We’re not working with heavy equipment today.”
Margot gazed back at the barn. When her eyes met Noah’s, the sparkle was missing. “Thanks, but Ely needs her help today,” she offered as she turned and walked away.
Noah sensed that something was amiss. He called after Margot. “Everything okay?”
Margot kept walking, tossing back, “Yeah. We’re fine.”
Things didn’t feel fine to Noah.
The rest of the men had hung back in a clump as they waited for Noah’s conversation with Margot to end. As soon as she left, they closed in around him awaiting instructions. The twelve-man crew broke into teams that made short work of hanging the joists. After lunch, some began laying the decking, while others built sections of railing, benches, gates, and other decorative features that would be installed later based on Noah’s plans. Six air hammers popped like corn in a kettle as the decking quickly filled in. Noah oversaw each process, but he focused his attention on the detail work, carving designs and lettering into beams and boards, and customizing the deck specifically for the Eppley family.
Each time he took a water break, he texted or called Tayte, whose reports about Agnes were punctuated with guilt and concern. When he told her he’d be late getting back, she offered no argument, but her voice carried a thread of longing that ripped at his heart, pulling his attention off the task at hand.
Still, nine hours sped along, and the deck took shape almost magically. By midday it was clear to Noah that their progress would exceed his expectations, and he made calls to various vendors for expedited deliveries of more material for the next day’s work. Shrubs, stone, and river rocks arrived in large trucks, and though Noah expected
these decorative items to be the source of great excitement for the Eppleys, no one came out to ogle their arrival. Even Sam noted that though the lights burned in the barn as long as the crew worked on the deck, the two groups did not interact as they had previously. There was no happy repartee, no offer of sandwiches for the crew, and no praise as the work proceeded.
The personal satisfaction drove the men on until six o’clock, when cell phones began ringing, drawing them home. The bulk of the crew left with promises to return the next day, leaving Noah, Sam, Everett, and Blaine to roll up the last of the air hoses.
Jenna rushed out in her hobbled run, making an obvious attempt to avoid conversation.
Noah called to her. “Jenna! What do you think of your deck now?”
She glanced behind her at the barn, and seeing no one, she offered a quick thumbs-up, paired with a wide-eyed smile so large it pulled the muscles tight in her thin neck. “I can’t stop. I’ve got to preheat the oven to 350 degrees and put our casserole in. Everyone’s hungry.”
“Okay. See ya,” said Noah, whose face pinched into a frown over the odd exchange. He began to wonder if Ely was ill, or if the family had worked all day in the barn to avoid him. Perhaps they’d taken offense at the hope he’d given Jenna. Tossing that idea off as neurotic, he jumped in the Andersons’ truck and rode away, but concern over the shift in the Eppleys’ mood gnawed at him on the ride home. He considered calling Margot to see if the family needed his help, but having never been a father and having hardly been a son, he knew little about family dynamics and feared further intrusion. Uncle John understood such things, and Noah wondered if he’d been aware of a problem with the Eppleys, and whether that was the reason he labored from his deathbed to hasten the project along.
A SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE BOXED SET Page 25