A Man's Heart (4 page)

“Thanks.” She wiped her nose. “Jules isn't going to see it that way.”

“Your sister isn't an ogre. She'll understand.”

“Is she taking Pop's death hard?”

“I haven't spoken to her. I've been busy.”

Adan's cell phone rang. He flipped it on. “Yeah.” After a minute he glanced at Cruz. “It's the parts store. They've got the clutch in stock. You want to drive into town or do you want me to go?”

Cruz didn't want to spare the half hour into Pasco and then back. Fred's place was closer. “You go, and I'll run Crystal over to Fred's.”

Adan relayed the information, and then hung up. “Crystal, I'll put your things in the truck.” As he walked past Cruz, he grinned. “Good luck.”

Cruz ignored the gibe. Luck wouldn't factor into it. He'd drop Crystal off and be on his way.
Lord, please don't let her be home when I get there.

Crystal rose and trailed Adan to the white pick-up. Cruz heard her chattering. She chattered. Jules spoke succinctly. “How's the shell business?” Adan asked.

“Wonderful. It's so lovely in Destin, you must come visit sometime.”

“I'll have to do that.”

Cruz stored her bag in the pick-up bed, his mind drifting back to Jules. Picking a casket, family flowers, pall bearers, and memorial acknowledgment weren't the easiest things. He
should have offered a hand. Pop's plot was separate from his folks, the headstone already set. Cruz had no responsibility to be with her in her time of need. He needed her plenty of times …

Crystal was still talking. “I live in back of the shop. Small quarters, but sufficient. The shop is right on the beach. Lovely sunsets, peaceful waters.”

“Sounds nice.”

Cruz grinned. He wouldn't visit her. Adan stuck close to home. He was a man set in his ways. Besides potatoes, about the only thing that caught Adan's eye was the Smith girl, and he wasn't overly fond of her. She was pretty enough, but she was the intellectual type. Her idea of fun was a visiting lecturer, spelt bread, and bamboo shoots. If Adan had his way, he'd be a bachelor the rest of his life, and living in a community as small and as tight as this one, was a distinct possibility.

The farm was all he and Adan had, and it was starting to get real cramped financially. Potatoes were flowering in the west and north fields, putting off pretty white blooms. The smaller three fields rested in an effort to ward off disease. This year's crop, so far, looked to be a first-rate one and it sure better be. He was down to less than five thousand in his business account.

Straightening, he shook his head when he saw Crystal was still yakking. Unless he missed his guess, she'd favor no-caffeine, whole food products, and never dream of eating a Ho-Ho, unlike her sister who had the metabolism of a tape worm. He'd once watched Jules down two Cokes and three Snickers and never break a sweat.

J
ules stepped off her mare, and approached the fresh grave site. Hours ago the community cemetery filled with mourners, cars and trucks lining the dirt road. Now, silence settled over Pop's final resting place. Golden-crowned sparrows flitted in and out of aspen and tall goat-chicory. Pop visited here only when necessary. Memorial days, Jules would coerce him into putting flowers on Grandpa and Grandma's graves, but he never stayed around long. He wasn't afraid of death; but like everyone else, he wasn't necessarily eager to board the bus.

She knelt, rearranging a gladioli spray. So many flowers. She had given some to the nursing home and sent a couple over to the medical clinic, but still the mound of fresh dirt was piled high with floral offerings.

“I thought I'd find you here.”

Startled, Jules turned to see Crystal approaching. She glanced toward the empty road. “How did you get here?”

“Cruz brought me.”

Jules turned back to the grave, shifting sprays, rearranging pots. “You're too late.”

“I know … please, Jules. Don't be upset.”

Pushing to her feet, Jules dusted her hands. People must think she was a cold person. “What happened?”

“The cab service out here is awful.”

Jules couldn't argue. Getting a cab from here was like pulling goat's teeth. A little hairy. “You could have called. I would have picked you up.”

“I did call the house, but by then you'd left for the services. I ended up walking the last mile.” She brushed long silky tendrils out of her eyes. Bracelets jingled. “It's hot. I don't remember it being this hot this early in the year.”

“It usually isn't.” She finally met her sister's eyes. It had been years since she'd seen her—how long? Mom's funeral? Years fell away and Jules recalled the morning Mom got up and announced that she'd had enough. She gave her daughters a choice: stay with
him
or go with her. An hour later she took Crystal and deserted the battle front.

Jules stayed because she thought Pop couldn't make it alone, but there hadn't been a day since that she hadn't wondered if she'd betrayed Mom, if her life wouldn't be different if she had gone with her and Crystal. Over the years, they wrote and talked on the phone, and Mom didn't resent Jules's choice, but eleven years old is young to be stuck in the middle of your parents' failings.

Crystal visibly squirmed under her appraisal. “I got your Christmas cards.”

“Yeah. I got yours.”

“You look good.” Crystal smiled. “Not aging a bit.”

“Thanks. You too—you look the same.” Not true; her sister was even prettier wearing a long, gauzy skirt, oversized blouse and large jewelry. Lots and lots of big, flashy sundials
glistened around her neck. Jules owned a pair of diamond studs Pop had given her one Christmas and rarely wore them.

“I talked to Cruz and Adan when I came into town.”

She was way ahead of her. Jules moved to her grandparents' graves. Crystal trailed behind, chatting. “Cruz took me to Pop's and when you weren't there he suggested you'd be here. So, here I am. Oh gosh—this is Granny and Paw Paw's grave.” The young woman knelt, running her tanned hand gently over the grassy surface. “I barely remember them.”

She wouldn't. She had been eight when Mom took off, and Mom hadn't brought her back when Buck and Sue Matias died within a few months of each other. “Cruz brought you here?”

“Yeah. He gets better looking every day.”

Jules forced a tolerant smile.

Crystal glanced up. “Sorry. I guess …”

“I haven't talked to Cruz lately.” If you could call four years “lately.”

“He wasn't at Pop's funeral? He said he was.”

“He was there. I just didn't get an opportunity to visit.” And how did she know so much about she and Cruz's past? Had Pop written and told her?

Crystal answered the thought. “Sophie writes a lot—and sends the local paper.” She patted Granny's grave and stood. “What do I need to do?”

“Nothing. Everything's done. Tomorrow morning Pop's attorney will read his will. The place will be ours. We'll need to agree on terms.”

“Terms. Such as?”

“Such as, I'll buy you out.”

“Oh. Those terms.” Crystal fell silent.

“You don't plan to come home, do you?”

“No, I love Florida, the sun and surf. You know me. I won't eat potatoes, let alone grow them.” She flashed another smile.

“You still buy into that myth that potatoes are fattening?”

“No, I don't like the taste.”

Frowning, Jules avoided her gaze. Didn't like potatoes. She didn't know a person alive other than Crystal who wouldn't chow down on fries or a big Baker loaded with sour cream and chives.

The women fell into step. Maddy grazed, bridle dragging the ground. How did Crystal intend to get back to the farm? “Is Cruz picking you up?” That's all she needed after the trying day. It hurt enough when he hadn't spoken at the funeral home.

“No, I told him I'd either hitch a ride with you or walk.”

“In this heat?”

Crystal's gaze sized up the mare. “Sophie says you and she ride the barrel races.”

“We did until I decided to go back to college. Now we ride the annual Fourth of July rodeo.”

“I remember that! Mom and Pop used to take us every year. We'd eat corn dogs, cherry snow cones and funnel cakes.” She shuddered. “I can't believe I'd eat a once living thing.”

“It's a wiener, Crystal. When you eat a wiener your last concern should be that something in it once had a face. Unfortunately, everything in meat was once something.” They approached the waiting mare and stood for a moment, uncertainty shadowing Jules's mind. “Do you want a ride?”

“Sure.” Gathering her full skirt, Crystal hooked her sandaled foot in the stirrup and climbed aboard, bracelets tinkling. Staring down at Jules, she grinned. “I haven't forgotten how to ride.”

No, she wouldn't. When they were kids, the two girls had lived on ponies when they weren't working the potato fields. Her sister reached to stroke Maddy's neck. The gentle mare had been Jules's constant companion before she left for college.

Jules was never more aware of the two sisters' diverse differences. Jules's dark, short cropped hair, petite build, hazel eyes and tenacious approach favored the Matias side, while Crystal's long-legged beauty, fair complexion and bohemian lifestyle flaunted Mom's Swedish heritage.

Cruz once said that because of Jules's dogged nature she would make a good Apache, while Crystal would be hard put to swat a moth. Well, if perhaps she'd been the one to go and Crystal had stayed to work the farm, she wouldn't be so stressed and hardened. Surf and sand was a long way from dirt and potatoes. Wonder if
Mr.
Delgado had thought of
that?
She grabbed the reins and swung into the saddle.

Jules and Crystal made the thirty-minute drive to Pasco the next morning, and by ten-thirty occupied the two leatherback chairs sitting in front of Jack Meddleson's massive cherry wood desk. Office walls tastefully contained the attorney's framed accomplishments. Rich sea green carpeting set off paneled oak walls. Stylishly structured pictures of Jack's grandchildren and wife lined the console behind his oversized chair. Jack handled Fred's business matters since the day Pop bought the potato farm. Joe Fraker, Blue Bayou's foreman, stood behind the sisters' chairs at Jules's request. Joe had been with Pop since the two started the business. Pop wouldn't forget Joe in the will.

Last night had been awkward. The sisters shared a plate
of food from the massive casserole and meat dishes lining the kitchen counter. Crystal picked out meat and set it aside without fuss. The two had gone to bed early. Crystal's old bedroom had long ago been converted into a guest room. This morning Jules told Joe to take the remaining food and floral offerings and distribute them among the employees. Two women — one a vegetarian — couldn't make a dent in the overwhelming show of appreciation for Pop.

Jack's secretary laid a folder on his desk. “Would anyone like coffee? Perhaps a cold drink?”

When the offer was refused, she quietly left and Jack opened the folder. “I know this has been a trying time for your family, so we'll get down to business.” He cleared his throat. “I, Fred Matias, being of sound mind …”

Jules's brain registered her father's last will and testament, picturing Pop, worn WSU Cougar ball cap in hand, twisting the fabric, wearing bib overalls, hoping to get his “business” over with as quickly as possible. Pop loved the Lord so the first request was allotted to the church. He gave five thousand, a tenth of cash on hand.

Joe got four thousand dollars. When the amount was announced, the older man's jaw went slack.

The attorney read on. “Joe, you're probably here supporting Jules, so just let me say I couldn't have left this without all the years you've given me, years when you never complained, some years when we both didn't get a red cent for all our hard work, but you've earned this and more, friend. I'll be waiting for you at the Gate.”