16

The next day I spent my time going back and forth between the hospital and Shelley’s Heart Bed and Breakfast. I had those guests booked, after all, and needed to prepare for their arrival on the weekend.

Peeps didn’t take his transfer to a Dallas rehabilitation center without a fight. He argued with his doctor, but with the help of Dr. Barnes, Scott nudged his father toward acceptance while I stood by silently praying.

“Come on, Dad. I’ll go with you. It’s only for a week. I’ll be learning how to do the exercises with you so we can come home and continue your rehab here. A whole week away from work—it’s what you’ve been after me to do all along—but now we’ll be together.” Scott rubbed his father’s legs as he spoke, an exercise the doctor had suggested.

“All…all right, if it’s only…only a week.” Peeps gave in with a sigh. He looked as though he might doze off.

“Well, then, it’s a deal. Why don’t you take a nap, and I’ll go home and pack for us. We can leave in the morning.”

Peeps closed his eyes in the middle of Scott’s sentences.

Scott shot a concerned look at Dr. Barnes.

“It’s OK,” Dr. Barnes said. “He’s tired from all the tests and the walking session earlier. I’m really quite pleased, but I still think it’s best to have him in rehab so that his progress can be carefully monitored for a time before we send him home. Call and schedule a follow-up appointment when you get back home.”

“Will do, and thanks for everything, Doctor.” Scott shook his hand.

“Don’t worry, Scott. Your father is stronger now. I was more worried after his first stroke”—the doctor lowered his voice and cast a quick glance at Peeps, the old man’s eyes still closed—“that he might lose the will to live with Shelley gone, but he seems to have some new motivation in his spirit. That’s a good sign.”

“Grandchildren,” Peeps whispered, without opening his eyes. Dr. Barnes chuckled as he left the room

Scott blushed but laughed as well. “I thought you were asleep.” He leaned over and kissed his dad on the forehead. Peeps’s rhythmic breathing indicated that he had finally dozed off.

Scott took my hand. “You’re awfully quiet. Everything OK?” he whispered and then pulled me out of the room. I’d driven him to the hospital that morning, so we headed to my car.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Praying for you both and just relieved he’s so much better. We may get him back whole and healthy before too long.” We reached the car in the parking lot.

Scott’s sheepish grin poked a dimple in his right cheek. He opened the driver’s side door for me.

“What are you grinning about?” I slipped into the seat.

Scott bounded around the car and popped in on the passenger side. “I love the way you say ‘We will get him back.’” He looked sideways at me, then pulled his cap down over his eyes and slumped into the seat as though he might take a nap, a contented sort of smile curving his lips.

Scott slept on the thirty-minute drive back to Exit 477. His snoring tickled me somehow, and I had to stifle a giggle. This lighthearted drive helped relieve my nerves. The responsibility of dealing with the aftermath of the fire made me uneasy.

I pulled up to West House and turned off the engine. Scott was really sawing logs now and didn’t even budge. A gentle shake on the arm did not rouse him. Exhausted, poor man.

“Scott, wake up. We’re here.” I scooted closer to him on the seat and shook him a little harder. “Scott?” His unresponsiveness alarmed me.

“Scott!” Both my hands were on his face now, patting his cheeks.

He reached for my hands and kissed them both. “Gotcha!” He laughed as he opened the car door and exited as if to run from me. He jogged toward the front door of the diner. I chased him inside, but he made it to the kitchen door and barred me from entering. With my nose pressed against the glass window on the door, I made a pretend mad face.

Toppy pulled Scott away from the door and opened it for me. “You two need supervision.”

“What I want to know is what would you have done if you’d caught me?” Scott grabbed a dishtowel and flicked it toward me.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I teased back. “Now, give me the keys to your old truck.”

“What? What do you need the truck for? I can haul something for you if you need help.”

“I don’t need the truck, but you need my car. You aren’t taking your dad for a two-hour ride to Dallas in that beat up vehicle of yours, especially in his condition. Hand over the keys.” I put one hand out in front of him to further request his keys and offered him the keys to my car with the other hand.

“You sure?” He handed me his truck keys and accepted mine.

“Where’s the truck parked? I need to get to Shelley’s. We have guests arriving Saturday morning, and I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Out back. Listen, it has some quirks. Let me go with you and show you. She won’t start for just anyone.” He opened the back door, and we went to the truck.

“Hop in and put in the keys. Push in hard before turning. She locks up sometimes. Been meaning to get the boys to look at it. The Pearson brothers can fix anything.” He didn’t close the truck door, but stood close to me, his head peering at the keys.

Sure enough, the key wouldn’t turn. I took it out, replaced it and jiggled. No luck.

“No jiggling. Just a hard press and turn. Oh, and pull the steering wheel to the left,” he said.

Hard press in, then turn…voila! It started. I laughed at my success and turned to find Scott looking in my eyes.

“Bailey, I can’t thank you enough. You’ve been like a rock to me. But it’s more than that, I…” He looked down, the emotion in his voice stopping his speech.

I put my finger to his lips to stop him from saying more. I couldn’t bear to have him thank me again when I was the grateful one. How my life had changed since the day I took the Washout Express exit, how exquisite the peace in the midst of tragedy and disappointment, how kindred the spirits that dwelled here. Home.

Scott pulled my face toward his and gently kissed me, more tenderness than “thank you” and more depth of feeling than gratitude. Scott said something to me in that kiss. I knew it then…our eyes locked for long moments in a deep understanding. Scott took both my hands in his and held them to his heart. Our foreheads rested together as so many unspoken hopes passed between us. This is what I’ve longed for, prayed for, dreamed of…

“This is much better than cracking our foreheads together, that’s for sure.” Scott laughed.

“Y’all gonna be out there all day?” Toppy called out the back door. “Lunch is ready.”

“Coming, Uncle Tops,” Scott called back. “Give us a minute,”

I peered over Scott’s shoulder just in time to see realization dawn on his uncle’s face. I winked at Toppy.

“Uh, take all the time you need. I’ll keep it warm for you.” As he closed the door, he let out a loud “Whoop!”

My feelings exactly, Toppy. I couldn’t stop smiling.

~*~

The morning dawned cold. Finally. I wanted to say good-bye to Peeps before they left for Dallas. I decided to follow Scott to the hospital and then go to my apartment and get some warmer clothes. He came out of the diner as I pulled in to the parking lot.

“You didn’t have any trouble starting her up?” Scott stuck his head in the driver’s side window for a kiss. Not a bad way to start the day. Rather nice, in fact. I nearly forgot why I had his vehicle.

“N…n…not at all.” Were my teeth chattering from the cold or that kiss?

“Oh, sorry. The broken heater. Here, take my jacket.” He removed his brown fleece zip up, opened the truck door, and helped me put it on.

“I’m gonna run in for another jacket, and then we can go.” He sprinted into the diner and returned just a minute later with another jacket. He jumped into my Olds.

Tracy opened the diner door. She and Toppy waved good-bye.

How I relished driving Scott’s truck, wearing his jacket, and giving in to the tenderness growing in my heart for him. A high school giddiness kept me grinning.

I parked the truck, but Scott pulled up around the circular drive at the hospital entrance. He went inside, and a few minutes later he returned with a nurse who wheeled his father through the hospital doors. Peeps was bundled up and had a grumpy frown on his face.

“You two boys behave yourself, you hear?” I hugged them both.

Scott and the nurse helped Peeps into the passenger side of my Olds. I leaned down and kissed the unhappy man on the cheek.

“Aw, sa…save it.” He smiled a sort of smirky grin at me.

“We should be back next Wednesday, I hope.” Scott hugged me and then walked around the car and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Soon…sooner,” Peeps said, his whole face frowning.

“Cheer up, Dad. It’s for your own good. Bye, Bailey. I’ll call when we get all settled in.”

I leaned against the driver’s side door, blew another kiss at Peeps, and then pecked Scott on the cheek.

“Oh, go…go on…ki…kiss her,” Peeps said.

Scott did.

I waved until they were out of sight.

A steamy cup of hot cocoa sounded perfect just about then, so I swung by my favorite coffee shop on my way to my apartment. James Ballard was sipping a warm drink at a corner table. He stood when he saw me.

“Bailey, hello.” He gave me a sideways hug.

“What would you like?” He took a step toward the order station. “Let me get it for you.”

“A hot chocolate, thanks.” How kind. I hadn’t seen him since that awful day in his office.

He brought my cocoa and sat down. “I’m sorry about your home, Bailey. I read about it in the newspaper. What an awful loss.”

“We’re still trying to process it.” I cupped my hands around the steaming cup. “You know, the police think Darryl started the fire.”

“I read that in the paper, too.” He stirred his drink. “What do you think?”

“He claims it was an accident, that he was drunk and lighting matches to burn those fake documents. He did appear drunk in your office that day.”

“He did. Sad state of affairs. If I can do anything, please let me know.”

“I do have a quick question. Aren’t you on the Marshall College Alumni Board?”

“Why, yes. Why do you ask?”

“Just a thought, not sure about it yet. But I was toying with the idea of a scholarship in Gran’s name. That is, if there’s going to be any money, and if we don’t rebuild. Just brainstorming.”

“Should be easy enough. I’ll make some inquiries and give you a call or have the appropriate person contact you. That’s a wonderful idea, by the way.”

“I’d love to do it, but we’ll see. I need to get on the road.” I stood to leave. “Thanks for the cocoa.”

“Oh, Bailey. Do you know anyone who could use a couple of tickets to the Cowboys game this weekend?” he said, reaching into his wallet. “I guess I’m not a die-hard fan. I mostly keep season tickets to use as perks for my clients—I guess that includes you now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. My wife and I planned to go camping instead to enjoy this cool weather.”

Somewhere in my crowded brain a plan crawled to the surface, a little blurry, but a definite idea involving a certain man and his uncle who could both use a break.

“Yes, I could use them.”

“Here you go.” He handed me the tickets. “You’ve been through so much lately. I like to think of you enjoying a football game. Hope there’s someone interesting to go with you.”

~*~

How I got back to Exit 477, I’m not sure. My mind was so preoccupied, it seemed that the truck drove on autopilot.

Brrrr. Better turn on the heat. Early fall afternoons in East Texas usually warmed up to summer temperatures, but this day was not normal. A cool front continued to linger across the area. The coffeepot brewed at Shelley’s while I put away the warm clothes I’d brought from my apartment in town. After donning a casual sweater and jeans, I carried a big cup of hot coffee to the prayer garden.

Clouds gathered, charcoal puffs of impending rain. The wind stirred up the dead leaves that lay scattered across the pathways. One lone leaf, bounced and buoyed by the swirling breeze, nearly made it to the ground but then shot upwards again in the current. The helpless leaf hung suspended in air for a second, as though it had landed on an angel’s hand, who then gently blew it to the ground.

I’m that leaf, Lord.

“Father, when I’m overwhelmed like this, I never know what to pray. My emotions are tossed, bounced around like a pinball. So many sad and scary things, and happy and joyful things as well. This is where I usually take matters into my own hands or let someone else, like Darryl, tell me what to do.

“But now I want what You want. I want to line up with Your plans for me. Help me know what to do about Pinewood Manor.

“I pray that Darryl will hear You, Father. He needs Your help. Please continue to heal him and if he lets You, walk him through the mess he made. I know that You can sort it out.

“Peeps and Scott need You, Lord. Thank You for beginning to restore Peeps’s speech. Bless the rehab to make his body stronger. I feel like those tickets from Mr. Ballard are a blessing from You, and I’d like to get them to Scott. He could use the fun right now. Show me what to do.

“And about Scott…thank You. Special, very special. I put it in Your hands, Lord. I care for him very much. Help us keep things running smoothly here while Scott is away.”

Scott. Thinking his name thrilled me. Whispering it aloud made me smile. I wanted to run to him, tell him everything. He’d already helped me, even in the midst of his own struggles. I wouldn’t bother him now while he was there for his father. Maybe the game.

As I rose from prayer, the burdens lifted. The overwhelmed feeling dissipated. Excitement and wonder replaced the fog in my brain. My coffee had grown as cold as the sprinkling of raindrops that made me pull my sweater up over my head. My thoughts turned to getting prepared for the guests who would arrive at Shelley’s Heart in a few days.

My mother arrived just as I warmed my cold coffee in the microwave, so I poured her a cup as well.

“This place is growing on me.” She sipped her hot beverage, warming her hands on the cup. “I thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.” We moved into the living room and settled in on the couch.

“Mom, I’m not sure about rebuilding Pinewood Manor. The policy will cover that if we want, but I just don’t know.” I scooted close to her, snuggling against the cold. I’d forgotten to turn on the heat.

“I don’t think you have to decide right away. Let’s pray about it and consider all the options.”

“I know Gran made provisions for you to live there, too, if you wanted.” How could I not rebuild our home?

“I don’t know, Bailey. Even when I lived there, it always seemed like too much house. More like an old museum. But you…” She put her arm around me and pulled me closer. “You loved it with all your heart.”

“I still do, or the memory of it anyway. I can’t believe it’s gone.” Tears fell unrestrained. Grief hadn’t yet overtaken me because I’d not let myself fully process losing Pinewood Manor. The loss hurt. I was “crushed but not destroyed” as the Scripture says. Peace reigned in the midst of all this upheaval and turmoil, and new blessings softened the heartache.

“Maybe we could build a new home. Not like Gran’s of course, but something that reflects her love and legacy for us. A home for both of us.” The idea quickened hope in my heart.

“You know that’s what Gran would be doing. Flying around making plans for a new house. The loss would have hurt her, but she’d grieve and go on. We’ll pray and follow her example.” Mom smiled through her tears.

“I was kind of thinking”—I passed the tissue box between us—“about the possibility of setting up a scholarship at Marshall College in Gran’s name. Continuing her legacy in a different way.”

“Perfect. And I bet you already have the first recipient in mind.”

“I’d love to help Tracy go to school. But it’s all just a thought now.”

“I’ll add that to my prayers.” She leaned forward to put her cup on the coffee table. Her eyes rested on the stack of Gran’s photo albums. I hadn’t cleaned them up yet.

The box that contained my father’s letter sat next to the albums. She picked it up and held it for a moment. She swallowed hard, and all the color drained from her face.

“Bailey,” she began. “There are some things you don’t know about…I never could tell you.”

“Are you all right, Mom?” I held her hands.

“It’s just seeing this…Bailey, I…”

Her eyes looked afraid. What made her afraid?

“It’s nothing.” She shrugged off whatever bothered her and set down the box.

“I’m certainly glad you are still here with me. This is all a little daunting, but I spent an hour in the prayer garden. The situation hasn’t changed, but I feel changed somehow.” I jumped up to turn on the heater.

“That’s the beauty of prayer and the wonder of our God,” she said. “He makes everything new. No matter what mistakes we make, He can set us on the right path.” I was relieved that the anxiety left her face.

“I have made a lot of mistakes. But I’ve also learned so much. Somehow, all of it has brought me here, to this amazing little place stuck off in the woods, and to Scott,” I ventured. I wanted to talk to her about what was transpiring between Scott and me.

“Your mistakes? I wasn’t talking about you, honey, I was talking about…Scott?” She quickly changed the subject. “You’re developing feelings for him?” Her whole demeanor changed. Excitement shone in her eyes.

“Very much, and I think he likes me. In fact, I think it might already be more than that. He says so much without actually saying anything, and I think I understand him. Does that make sense?” Warmth flushed my face. It was fun to finally get to talk about my feelings.

A wistful smile crossed my mother’s face. “Yes, it makes sense. I had that kind of kindred spirit with your father at first. Bailey, I…” She stopped mid-sentence.

“But you fought all the time, Mother. At least that’s what I remember. Especially that last time, right before he left.”

“Let’s drag that out another time. Tell me more about Scott.”

“At first, he seemed tired and stressed out, which is no surprise since he was grieving his mother, taking care of Peeps and running three businesses. But as I’ve gotten to know him a bit, I’ve discovered he’s a man of faith. Strong faith. He can be very fun-loving, and he makes me laugh. I’m only beginning to learn all there is to know about him, but at the same time, I feel like I’ve known him forever.”

“Sounds like a keeper. I worried what your life would be like, married to an unbeliever like Darryl.” She picked up her coffee cup. Her hand shook a little. “When couples have the most important thing in common, faith in Christ, then everything else is manageable.”

Was that it? My father wasn’t a believer? What in the world was going on with her?

“Mom, sure you’re all right? We can talk about this later.” I wrapped her in the afghan that lay across the end of the couch.

“Maybe a little tired.” She sipped her coffee. Suddenly she set down her cup again and picked up the letter box.

“Maybe I should read it first, by myself.” She held the box to her breast, holding it from me.

Mom entwined her fingers around the box, squeezing until her knuckles were white.

I flung my arms around her.

“Mom, let’s do it later. No hurry, OK?” Her anxiety frightened me. She obviously feared the contents of that letter. Maybe I should have thrown it away, like Gran suggested.

This rollercoaster of emotions, both hers and mine, began to tire me, and I had so much to do to get ready. I changed direction. “You’re going to spend the night, right? Help get things ready for the guests this weekend?” I didn’t really need help; I still had a couple of days before the Saturday morning arrival. But I wanted her there with me.

She relaxed a bit and then rolled up her sleeves. “What did you want to serve this time?”

“Let’s don’t try anything new. Things have been too crazy. Your breakfast casserole with fresh fruit, juice, and coffee will be fine for breakfast. Toppy warned me not to go shopping again. He keeps those ingredients in the diner kitchen. I have the makings for chocolate chip cookies here. This booking needs more than one room, though. It’s a family, two adults and two young children. I want to see if I can make one of the rooms kid friendly.” Voicing my mental checklist seemed to ease the tension.

“We could put stuffed animals in the room upstairs that has the crazy quilt on the bed. Maybe add some board games.” Mom acted her old self again as she cooked up a scheme for the children’s room. “Just leave that to me. It’s too early to cook. We can do that Friday. I’m off until the graveyard shift, so I’ll just stay here with you.”

“I’d love that. Meanwhile, Mr. Ballard gave me two tickets to the Cowboys game this Sunday. I thought I might convince Toppy to take Scott to the game. I think I can get Mandy and Macy to come and help out at the diner while he’s gone.” The details began to come into focus, or so I thought.

“Great idea. Only will Scott leave his father? Someone would need to stay with Mr. West while Toppy and Scott go to the game.” She bit her lower lip in thought. At least she was on board with me on this.

“You’re right. He won’t leave him. He might not go even if someone sits with Peeps.” How could I make this happen? My gut told me it was important. Why, I wasn’t sure.

“Why don’t you go to West House and talk to Toppy?” she said. “I’m sure the two of you can cook up something.” She giggled at her pun. Whew, she seemed her old self again, although she still looked pale.

“Will you be all right here by yourself for a while?”

“Actually, I think I’ll go to town and gather up some stuffed animals and children’s board games for the room.” She rose and reached for her purse. “Maybe some kid-friendly snacks. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

“Thanks, Mom.” We hugged and I noticed that she was trembling. I didn’t like seeing my normally calm and confident mother in this state.

What was my mother so afraid of? Was there something in that letter that would hurt me? Least said…soonest mended. Gran’s adage kept me from saying anything. Like the puffer fish, I decided to roll over and let the Lord float me through it all.

Father, please help her, and help me to understand.