Christie had finished cleaning the dishes when her cell phone ringing brought her back to the present. She picked it up and glanced at the number. It didn’t look familiar. She answered with a hesitant “hello?”
“Christie!”
“Trish. Oh, my gosh. How long has it been?”
“Too long.”
“I’m so glad to hear from you.” Christie wiped her hands with a dishcloth and moved out to the front porch and took a seat in the rocker. She stretched back and put her feet up on the porch’s banister. “What have you been up to? Other than trying to save some animal.”
Lighthearted laughter came through the phone. “You still know me. My husband says he’ll disown me if I bring one more stray home.”
“I doubt that. If I recall, he worships the ground you walk on.” She swatted at a mosquito the size of a cow. Welcome back to Texas where everything’s bigger.
Christie went back inside. Pop sat in his recliner, already asleep and snoring softly so she went back into the kitchen.
“Maybe not as much as when we were in school, but,” Trish giggled again, “okay, he does. I got lucky.”
“Yes, you did.” Christie remembered how the girls had gone their separate ways once boys came into the picture. They’d remained friends, but whereas Trish had stuck to her roots, Christie had dived into medical textbooks, determined to become a doctor. She’d planned on going to UTSA in San Antonio, but when word went around that another friend, Kimberly was dating Cole, she applied to schools out of state. With her grades, several good schools accepted her. She’d chosen one far away from the small town and away from the heartache.
She switched ears, trying to hear better. “Hey, if I lose you, it’s because of poor service out here. Pop still lives in the stone age with internet. How did you get my number?”
“I called my daddy, who called your Pop and got the number. Oh, Christie, it’s been so long. When can we meet up?”
“My calendar’s pretty free. You let me know.”
Silence came over the line before Trish responded. “How’s about a late lunch today over at Bumdoodlers? I know you love their pie.”
“Sounds good to me. How about 1:30?”
“Great. That gives me plenty of time before I have to head over to the school to pick up Jess after practice. You coming to the game?”
It was like she’d never stepped away. Fridays were always reserved for hometown football. Christie and Trish had spent Saturdays tubing on the river and Sundays found them in the pew, trying not to think about the aromas from the potluck spread waiting for after the sermon concluded. Small-town life couldn’t be beat when it came to a comforting consistency.
“Let me think about it. I’ve just come back for a short visit, so I want to spend some time with Pop.”
“Okay. He’s welcome to come, too.”
“You know Pop. It takes a lot to get him to leave this house.”
Trish yelled at someone. “Coming! Listen, gotta go. Helping with the rug rats here at the school. See ya later. Bye!”
Christie had barely told her goodbye, when the phone went dead. “Ugh, have to get this charged.” She went back into the living area and surveyed her surroundings. The house would have fit right in with the tiny house movement. The living room with a door to a short hallway, the kitchen with a small dining area, two small bedrooms, and one bathroom. It’s funny how different and smaller things became once time had gone by.
What had been Christie’s old room now held an assortment of her mother’s things that should have been given away long ago. She knew it would never happen while her father was still alive. Even after the many decades since her mother’s passing away, it astounded her with the way it still affected her father. He’d moved on primarily for her sake but even though he’d been about Christie’s current age when her mother had passed away, he’d never remarried.
His chair was empty. When she didn’t find him in the house, or in the front area, she went back through to the kitchen and out the door. She called out from the back porch, “Pop?”
“Out here!” He waved at her as she watched him enter the barn. She knew better than to head out to the barn in her flip-flops, so she went back inside and scrounged in her suitcase until she found some boots. She pulled them on and strode out to the yard, the back screen door slapping closed behind her.
Entering the barn, it took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the dark interior. Then, she saw it. A small foal nuzzling its mother. “Oh, Pop. How adorable. When?”
“Done come on this spring. We weren’t sure, though. Curtis had taken her in after the vet called, saying the horse had been abandoned. People like that—”
Christie laid her hand on his arm. People were one thing, but her Pop couldn’t abide anyone that would harm or neglect an animal. He stroked the mare.
“Poor neglected mama needed some extra care, didn’t ya, girl?” He spoke softly to the horse. “I took her in when Curtis realized she was in the family way. He’d been fostering her in exchange for some vet care for his horses. I couldn’t care for all his horses after the fire, but I can take care of her and her babe.”
Christie grinned. “Well, glad you did, but Pop, how are you going to continue to take care of these horses? Not only are they a lot of work, but they’re expensive on feed, shoeing, the vet bills…”
“Don’t you go worrying your mind now, darling.” He walked down to the next stall, where another mare approached the door.
“What’s that tape on her neck?”
“Some new-fangled tape that’s supposed to help with her neck strain. Kinsey—”
“Kinesiology tape?” Christie had heard about the tape, but this was her first time seeing it on horses.
The nag nuzzled Pop, and he pulled a carrot from his pocket. “Here you go, old girl.” He gave the horse the treat. “This here is old Curtis’s horse. She got hurt a bit when she got spooked by the fire, so I’m just keeping her over here for a bit until he can figure out what to do. I couldn’t handle the geldings, so they went to Moore’s ranch.”
“But—” Christie stroked the mare’s muzzle.
“No butts. Ya gots to help your neighbors. That’s what the Good Book says, and I’m doing it.”
She raised her hands. “Sure.” The foal trotted over to them on wobbly legs. Christie crouched down and let it come to her.
“Ah, she’s already used to people and treats. There’re some apples and carrots over in that bucket.” Christie gave one to the foal, who quickly trotted back beside her mother. She pulled a cut apple from the bucket and, stretching her hand out flat, gave it to the mare. She stroked the horse between its ears.
“Hey, Pop, I’m meeting Trish over at Bumdoodlers. Want to join us?”
“Nah. I got my own plans.”
“Okay.”
“I wouldn’t mind me a piece of pecan pie, though. How’s about I stop by after I’m done?”
“That works. We’re meeting at 1:30, if you can come. Will you have your truck with you? Why don’t I drop you where you need to go?”
“I’ll drive myself but meet you there.”
“Okay.” Christie kissed her father on the cheek and went back to the house. She pulled a maxi brown skirt and burnt orange and teal tank-top from her hanging bag. Grabbing two barrettes, she gathered her hair back off her face where she clipped them over her left ear. On her ears, she hung a pair of large copper hoops. Christie added a woven, russet, leather belt slung low on her hips and finished the outfit with some teal espadrilles. Pulling on her worn denim jacket, she slung her bag over her shoulder.
She came out of the bathroom as her father entered the kitchen. “Oh-ee. You’re looking mighty pretty, darling. Watch out for them boys in town.”
“Sure, Pop. I’ll do that.”
She walked out to her Jeep. She’d parked it under the old oak in the yard, so, luckily, the heat wasn’t overbearing as she climbed inside. Starting the car, she backed out and headed down the dirt road with the AC blasting as high as it would go. She smiled at her father’s words. Even in her forties, her father still thought of her as his little girl. Truth be told, she’d never been little, either. She’d worn a size ten-twelve in high school, and now she wore a fourteen on her good days but usually, a sixteen. Between her height of five-eleven and her muscles from helping patients up and down, she could carry extra weight better than most.
She took the back road to Boerne, enjoying the scenic route afforded on FM473 and the memories of simpler times hanging out at the old railroad bridge. Passing the historical bat house, she marveled at the thought of collecting bat guano for gunpowder. All she knew was that she was thankful for bats that kept the pesky mosquito population down.
Pulling into the Bumdoodlers parking lot, Christie drove around to park in the back, off to the side. The lot provided little shade, but she wanted to find a spot out of the way. Inside, she walked through to the front of the restaurant and found Trish staring at the pie display.
“Finally. I’m about ready to order all of those pies.” She laughed and pulled Christie into a big hug. “Look at you. You always look so hot. No wonder the boys were always after you in school.”
“I think it was more because I was the first to develop.”
“See… hot.” She hugged Christie again.
“Yep. That’s me, all right. Hot. I need some iced tea.”
“So happy to see you. How long has it been?”
“A while.” Christie realized that it had been many years since she’d been home to visit. She’d need to change that and make more time to spend with her father now that he was getting on in years.
They went up to the counter, where Marie Chambers waited, her coppery locks courtesy of the local salon, piled in a messy bun on top of her head. “Christie? Girl, give me a hug!” She came around the counter and hugged her. “Good to see you. How long are you going to be in town?”
“I’m not sure. Probably a couple of weeks.”
“Well, I’m sure R.C. is glad you’re home.”
Christie nodded. People would call her father R.C. or Pop, but no one ever called him by his name, Rupert Constantine. The last person who had called him Rupert, who wasn’t his mama, received a black eye for their troubles.
Marie went back around the wood partition. “What’ll ya have?”
“I’ll take a sweet tea…” Christie glanced over at the chalkboard hanging on the post.
“Is there any other kind?” Trish and Marie asked in unison.
“And the Brainstorm and a piece of pecan pie.”
“Oh, sorry, sweetie. We’re outta pecan. Everybody must be in the mood for it today. I’ve got a great coconut cream pie.”
“Okay.” Christie took the glass Marie handed her. She stepped to the side, where the large containers held tea, and filled the red plastic tumbler so Trish could complete her order for the Gobbler turkey sandwich. Christie handed Marie some cash but was shooed away by Trish. “My treat.”
Stuffing the money back in her purse, Christie headed to the back area, where it was quieter. She sat down and waited for Trish to grab her drink.
Marie brought their food and they were chatting and laughing when a figure stepped up to their table. Kimberly stood before them with a full face of on-point makeup and platinum blond hair which tumbled down her back in curls. She’d accessorized her hair with large rhinestone clips that held her hair back off of her face. Christie hadn’t spoken to Kimberly since high school.
“Well, I’d heard you were back in town. It’s so good to see you. After all these years. I know you probably don’t recognize me, now that I’m older and have put on weight. I try, but you know how it goes after you have kids.” Her words came out sickly sweet, and a knot formed in Christie’s stomach. It was just like Kimberly to play off something to fish for compliments. Even though Kimberly looked even thinner than she had in high school, Christie and Trish remained tight-lipped.
When she realized no compliments were forthcoming, Kimberly plopped down in a chair next to them. She stole a potato chip from Christie’s plate, just like she used to do in high school. A strange feeling of deja vu hit Christie.
Kimberly wiped her hands with a napkin. “So what brings you to our neck of the woods? Visiting your dad? You know my mom and dad moved down to Mexico?” She barely took a breath before continuing. “They couldn’t stand this heat. They don’t get to see us as much now. But I guess that works for them. I have too many commitments here. I’m the board chair of…” She droned on and on, waving a huge, gaudy diamond on her left hand.
Finally, Trish interrupted. “I’d been asking Christie about her life since she left.”
“Oh, well. Um, yes. I so want to hear about your life, too.” She smiled, but it never reached her eyes. A pained expression crossed her features, but she didn’t get up to leave. Instead, she glanced at her phone screen, occasionally typing something on it.
Seriously rude. Christie answered simply, “Not much to tell. Went to school. Became a hospice nurse—”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that. All those people dying. How sad.” Kimberly picked up her phone again and typed.
Christie sighed. “You do know that you will die, right? Everyone dies. The job of a hospice nurse is extremely important.”
“Oh, yes. I know, one time I—”
Trish cut Kimberly off. “Christie, tell us about that time when you got stuck in a blizzard with a murderer. I find the whole thing about what makes people kill so interesting.”
“Oh, girls.” Kimberly glanced at her phone. “So sorry. Have to run. Prior engagement. Let’s get together. Kiss. Kiss.” She stood and flounced out the backdoor as Marie arrived with their pie.
“That woman,” Marie said under her breath.
Trish laughed. “Tell us how you really feel, Marie.”
Marie pulled out a chair and sat down. “You know I’m not one to gossip…”
Christie smiled because gossipers always begin their stories with that disclaimer before they launch into gossip—the juicier the better.
“Of course not,” Trish winked at Christie and turned back to Marie. “Now, spill.”
“Well,” Marie leaned in closer, and the two women followed suit, “I’ve heard she’s been stepping out on Cole.”
“Noooo.” Trish put her hand on her chest.
“Yep. She thought he’d have his own real estate agency by now, but he’s content working for the Websters.”
Christie looked around for her phone. She must have left it in the Jeep. “Hey, ladies, I forgot my phone. I need it in case Pop calls.” She wanted her phone, but also to escape the gossip. Her mother instilled in her at an early age that, if people will talk to you about others, they’ll talk to others about you. According to her mom, gossip should have been one of the deadly seven sins, as it fits right in with some others like envy, malice, and pride. She took a quick bite of dill pickle and wiped her hands with a paper napkin. “I’ll be back in a jiff.”
The two women nodded but continued their conversation. Outside, it took a minute for Christie to adjust to the bright light. The heat hit her like a hot, wet blanket across her face. Over on the side, she noticed her father’s truck. She started toward it, when angry voices startled her. They came from behind a large, white truck.
Wait, is that Hector’s truck?
The voices were muted, but it was clearly an argument. It felt like slow motion as Christie swiveled to see her father move toward her, moving around behind the vehicle. The large truck backed up coming close to where her father walked toward her.
He must not see him. “Pop! Watch out!” Christie cried.
Pop moved backward but not quickly enough. The truck shot out of the parking lot, and as it did, the side panel of the truck pushed past Pop, sending him spinning. He fell and landed hard on his right shoulder. The truck took off from the lot.
“Help! Someone help!” Christie screamed as a couple ran over from their Chevy suburban. “Pop! Don’t move. Are you hurt?”
“What do you think? I’m just in this heap on the ground for fun?” He winked at her, but a grimace quickly took its place. “Darling, I think I hurt myself.”
Christie knelt in the dirt as she assessed him. “Where does it hurt, Pop?”
“My shoulder. Bad.”
He had to have seriously injured himself if he would admit to his shoulder being hurt. People rushed out of the building, along with Trish and Marie. “What happened?”
“Some idiot in a truck sped out of here and wasn’t watching where they were going. He barely missed hitting my father. If I wouldn’t have been here, who knows—” She fought back angry tears.
Christie held onto her father, assessing his vitals as time slowed to a crawl. Finally, Christie could hear sirens. “Pop. Help is on the way. Don’t you worry.”
He grimaced and took shallow fast breaths.
“Over here!” People waved to the ambulance while others joined the crowd to see what was happening.
As they loaded her father onto the stretcher, he complained about having to go to the emergency room.
“Pop, I’ll follow you there. Where are your keys for your truck?”
He tried to retrieve them from his pocket, but he winced and stopped short.
“What pocket, sir?” the female EMT asked.
After he pointed to his right hand pocket, he laid back on the stretcher. The woman tossed the keys to Christie.
“We’ll be taking him to the Emergency Center for evaluation.”
“Okay, I’ll follow you there.” She leaned over and rested her hand on his leg, “Pop, I’ll be there soon. Love you.”
“You don’t need to…” A grunt of pain silenced him. “Love you, too.”
The EMT shut the doors, and Christie watched as it left the parking lot.
Trish touched her arm, and Christie jumped. “Sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt while you were talking to your dad. I can get Jess to take your Pop’s truck home, so you don’t have to worry about it.”
“You don’t need to do that. Plus, if you only knew how he is about others driving his truck…”
“Okay. Your Jeep then.” Trish brushed her hair off her face.
“How did you know I had a Jeep?”
Trish shrugged. “Good guess.”
Tears sprung to Christie’s eyes.
“Ah, hon, you don’t need to cry. Your dad will be fine.”
Christie wiped her eyes. “Yes, I know. Thanks. I hate to impose on you all. What about his practice?”
“Jess can take the Jeep over with him, and I’ll follow him out to y’all’s place and bring him home. No worries. Now, shoo.”
They hugged, and Christie gave her the Jeep keys before heading to Pop’s truck. Inside, she waited for the air conditioning to kick in and her adrenaline to calm down. She waved to Trish and headed toward the medical center. As she drove, anger built back up inside. Had it been Hector driving that truck? Had it been an accident, and he hadn’t seen her father? Or had he meant to scare the old man and got too close? She couldn’t imagine him trying to run him down on purpose. Who had the person driving the truck been arguing with? Maybe he had been so caught up in the argument, he didn’t see her father walking toward the café. All she knew was that Webster Realty would hear from her. No way would Pop sell his property to them.
Over my dead body.
A shiver went up her spine. Christie chose to believe it was sweat interacting with the air conditioning and not a premonition.