14

Garrett sipped his coffee and thought about Matthew’s family. Tragedy was about to shift their family dynamic.

The cafe was having an unusually busy morning. A constant rattle of dishes clanged and banged around him. The smell of coffee and bacon and syrup and sausage was intoxicating.

“Can I get your autograph?” A hand pressed on his shoulder, and he turned to greet a buddy from high school. Rick Elwood still lived in town and owned an insurance agency a couple of streets over.

“Hey, man. An autograph? What are you talking about?”

Rick slapped a newspaper down on the counter, making a loud smack! “You’re front-page news.”

Headlines with pictures filled the page. Didn’t take much to make the Sweet Home Gazette. Nothing too exciting happened around here, so they covered everything, from the biggest catch of the season to cow patty bingo at the Fourth of July downtown festival.

His gaze stopped on a familiar face. Matthew Bertram signing his letter of intent. Garrett was there, too, standing proudly beside his favorite athlete, a smile spread from ear-to-ear. He remembered posing for the photo, but with everything going on with Matthew’s father, he’d forgotten it was due to come out today. “Man, this is fantastic.”

“You keep that. It’s your copy. I gotta run. Your boy Matthew’s making this town proud. See you later.”

“Hey, thanks. Later.” This was something else. Garrett stared at the photo until his coffee grew cold. He’d not made it this far. Had he not injured his leg, he would’ve chosen a university. Then he would’ve sat at a hulking desk next to university officials and had his photo on the front page of the newspaper. What a monumental moment that would’ve been. He’d have to get another copy to give to Matthew if he didn’t have one already.

“I got some news for ya that ain’t in that newspaper.” The heavy, Texas accent came from B.L. Whitner, a local farmer and part-time rodeo clown. At the moment, he looked too serious to be a clown.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“They gonna widen PR 147. Ain’t that the road out to your family’s place?”

“Yes, it is.” His heartbeat quickened. And the road where his parents’ tree stood.

Micara’s grandmother had told him this might happen. He couldn’t just stand by and let them do this. Something had to be done. He had to act now. “I gotta go, B.L.” He tossed some bills on the counter for his coffee and food.

“Wait. I ain’t through telling you what all I found out.”

“Sorry, B.L. I just remembered something important. I gotta run.”

Snatching up the newspaper, he hurried out to his car. He pulled out of the parking space a little too fast and sped off in the direction of PR 147.

~*~

Through her dusty front windshield, Micara saw Garrett’s car pull out of the cafe parking lot without making a complete stop. He was in a rush to get somewhere. She’d just left the Bertrams’ and was heading to the cafe to meet Connie, but without a thought, she passed the cafe and turned onto the same road as Garrett, curious as to what he was up to. She activated voice on her cell and called Connie, but the call transferred to voicemail.

“Hey, girl. This is Micara. I hope you haven’t left yet, ’cause something just came up and I won’t be able to meet you for breakfast after all. I’ll call you later, and we’ll plan another day. Bye.”

She hung up and called Garrett’s number. No answer. Figured. He never had it on. She tossed the phone onto the seat and stayed behind him. They passed dirt road after dirt road until they came to PR 147. He turned right, and she did the same. After a few minutes of bumping along the unpaved road, they reached the giant oak they now referred to as his parents’ tree.

They exited their vehicles at the same time and shut their doors a split second apart.

“Garrett, what’s going on? Is everything OK?” Micara reached him and threw her arms around him.

He hugged her back—tight. Then he pulled back a little. “MeMaw was right about them widening the road. Somebody told me at the cafe. Tell me something, Micara. Are you sure this tree can’t be moved and saved?”

The enormous tree reached for the sky. But it was what lay underneath the earth’s surface that determined its fate. Its lifeblood pumped vital nutrients needed for survival through the intricate root system. The same was true for people whose happiness depended upon a rich inner world. “A tree this large and old would surely die, but it’s worth a try. I know I made it sound hopeless before, but if it’s slated to be knocked down, then we might as well try to remove it and replant it. If it doesn’t make it, then we move on to Plan B.”

“Plan B?”

“Preserving the section with your parents’ initials. We’ll cut it out, treat it with a clear wood preservative, and display it in a garden.”

“Would that work?”

She nodded her head. “Plan B for sure. People do that all the time. But we’ll try to save the whole tree, Garrett. I’ll get in touch with a friend of mine who is an arborist. If anyone can transplant this natural monument, it’s him.”

Garrett smiled and seemed satisfied with her answer. “There’s something I want to do first.”

He jogged over to the passenger side of his truck and dug around in the glove compartment. A moment later he returned to her side, a piece of silver metal in his hand. With a snap, he opened it to reveal a blade. The man didn’t carry his pocketknife in his pocket, but maybe he wasn’t allowed to on campus. She cocked her head to one side quizzically.

“I want us to carve our initials in the tree.” He gripped his bottom lip between his teeth, like a little boy who wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing. “Do you want to?”

Micara smiled, touched beyond words. Carving initials was an old-fashioned gesture…but it was a romantic one. She nodded and linked her fingers through his.

“I’d like that.”

~*~

Garrett wondered if he was losing his mind. He’d awakened this morning—the day of Roger Bertram’s funeral—with a strange thought in his head. He didn’t know whether it was a useful thought or a faulty one. Death doesn’t have to be the end; it can also be the beginning of a new way of life.

This was the start of something new and positive for Matthew and his family. His family would never have to go back to the way life was before. But the same rang true for each and every person in this town. Right? Why hadn’t he ever considered this? What if the end of their old way of life wasn’t the end, but merely the start of something new?

Many of the townsfolk wouldn’t see change and progress in that way. His brother, for starters. Still, it gave Garrett something to ponder.

By that afternoon, he’d admitted to himself that he had never wanted to sell his property at all—Gabe’s check remained uncashed in his wallet. He was just too stubborn to let go of his dream and his own plans for his life. But all that had changed now. He’d met Micara and restored his broken relationship with his Savior.

Death more or less painted that same picture. Nobody wanted death, but it was inevitable. People feared death the same as they feared change. But change was inevitable, too. Instead of letting it put us in the ground, we needed to embrace it—recognize change as nothing more than a temporary re-routing in the course of our lives and go with the flow.

Garrett had changed his mind about selling his land, had in fact changed his position on how he felt about almost everything. He possessed a new pair of eyes to view the world, and he wanted to make yet one more change in his life. He wanted to marry Micara. He longed for the privilege of holding her in his arms…having a family with her. And he wanted to raise that family in Sweet Home. All of that seemed possible now. His mindset was a whole lot different from what it had been a few months ago. Micara would be content in a little house in the country. She adored the sweet, simple life that Garrett himself had only recently realized was a cherishable commodity. One question remained. Did Micara love him as much as he loved her?

He made his way through the crowd to where Matthew stood near his father’s coffin. The funeral service had been modest and simple, with a message of hope for the family. He shook hands with the young man and then pulled him forward into a firm hug. What could he say that hadn’t already been said in some variation by every person in attendance? I’m sorry for your loss? Everything will be OK? Let me know if you need anything? None of those were adequate.

With watery eyes and without saying a word, he stepped back and nodded. The right words would come in due time. But with the end of football season just around the corner, he didn’t have long to come up with something.

~*~

Micara walked out of the cafe as Garrett marched up and threw his arms around her in front of everyone. They’d just had lunch after the Bertram funeral service and made plans to spend a quiet evening with her mother and MeMaw, watching a special on television. The public display of affection surprised her and, for a moment, left her a little self-conscious. They were, after all, standing in the middle of the sidewalk with people all around them. But then he leaned back and captured her gaze. Something in his eyes told her that he saw far more than her physical appearance, and that made her glad.

He held her for a moment longer. “Maybe it’s the funeral, but I just need to hold you right now.”

“Anytime you get that feeling”—she slid her arms up and around his neck, clasping her fingers behind his head—“You should go with it.”

He grinned.

She loved that boyish smile and wanted to see it as much as possible. She also loved his beautiful eyes when they focused on her. And his skin, sun-kissed from being outdoors so much during football season—especially when that tanned skin touched hers in a sweet embrace.

Garrett pulled her a little closer. “I can’t help but love you.”

Her smile grew into a grin so full it hurt her jaw. She knew it. She knew he loved her. “You love me?”

“Only with all my heart.”

She squinted against the sunlight blazing in her eyes, but that blinding glare was nothing compared to the burst of emotion in her heart. Her love for Garrett made the sun’s heat seem puny. “That makes two of us.” She took his hand and led him across the street to a park bench a little farther from listening ears. They both took a seat, and Micara scooted close to Garrett. “Now tell me what made you decide to blurt out that you love me in front of the Sweet Homemade Café.”

His blue eyes fixed on her face, honest and intent. “I’ve wanted to say it for so long. I realized at the funeral that life’s too short to drag your feet.” Reaching out, he took her hand in his. “I couldn’t wait any longer. I made the mistake of not being honest with you in the beginning, and I don’t want to do that anymore. From now on, I’ll say what’s on my heart. I want to live my life actively, not passively.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest. “That’s wonderful, Garrett.”

“You just watch and see. No more dwelling over the past, no more wishful thinking, only positive thoughts.” He tightened his grip on hers. “I’ll learn to be satisfied with what I have and take one day at a time.”

“Garrett.” She hoped he could see how content he’d made her. “I believe in you.” She moved even closer and laid her head on his shoulder. “You mentioned that you’ve been doing some writing at night. Tell me about your story.”

“Let’s see. I already told you that it’s about a boy who loves to read and uses information from books to solve mysteries. I’ve got enough material to make it a series, each one featuring a different mystery.”

Micara nodded her head. “You could be onto something with the series thing. Kids love series novels.”

“I agree. This first one is called The Mystery of Mason’s Escape. It involves a swimming pool, a yappy little dog, and a haunted clothesline if you can imagine that. But I was a child when I jotted down the notes for this, remember?”

“I remember. You were a kid, so those ideas should work well for kids.”

“Ya think?” He grinned. “It comes together in a rather unique and surprising way. When I was a kid, we had an above-ground swimming pool. It wasn’t big enough for all five of us, so I would pick a corner to myself, let out enough air so I would sink to the bottom, and I’d have private underwater adventures for as long as I could hold my breath. I kept wishing for a secret opening at the bottom, like a spelunker’s cave that led to another world. And that’s where my story takes place. What I longed for happens to Mason. He dives down to the bottom of the pool and finds an underwater cave—and he can breathe when he’s in it. It’s amazing. Makes me wish I was a little boy again.”

“Living in Sweet Home?”

Garrett was silent for a moment. He had so many wonderful childhood memories with his brothers. Then he nodded. “Yeah, growing up here in Sweet Home was pretty amazing. I had a wonderful childhood. Thank you for helping me remember that.”