Broken Creek (The Creek #1) (5 page)

“I’m out of cards. Do you have a pen and a piece of paper handy?”

“Yes, in my purse.”

My bag was full of everything, and it took me a moment to find something for him to write on. I handed him the torn flap from an envelope and the pen he requested.

“Here’s my cell phone. When you’re headed back into town, call me and let me know when you’re picking me up for the date,” he said with amusement.

“A date?”

“Yes, for that pizza and beer you owe me.” His smile had my heart beating out a thunderous rhythm of anticipation.

“Deal.” I took the paper from him and caught a glimpse of beautiful white teeth behind the goatee and scruff. His smile met his eyes, and there was something honest about them.

I took a seat behind the wheel of my car, and he closed my door softly. I noticed him in the rearview mirror watching me intently as I pulled out of the convenience store parking lot.

He waved.

My drive home was filled with thoughts of A.D.—tall, dark, and seriously handsome. Not to mention he had manners. I liked the dark beard and the way he filled out his Cinch jeans. Shameful that I’d recognized the brand by the way they fit, but I knew Cinch from other guys who wore them back home, and they fit those full thighs and nice asses with ease.

I looked at the paper over and over again. There was something mysterious about two letters and ten digits. He certainly had my attention—all of me, girlie parts included.

My trip home was full of daydreams of A.D., and I barely remembered the drive. When I turned off the county road and eased across the bridge, the old familiar rumble of the boards clanking beneath my car met me with unease.

Mr. Clancy hadn’t fixed the bridge. Even worse, just passed the bridge was the tree line that gave way to a view of our sprawling pasture—one that hadn’t been cut in months.

I drove slowly up the dirt drive to the open-concept carport and parked in my usual spot. The sight of the overgrown land made me ill. It looked even more ragged than I remembered, or the place had deteriorated quickly in four months.

So much for my daydream, which now gave way to a new nightmare. Either Mom had lied to me, so I would go to school, or something had happened to our old family friend, Mr. Clancy. Strange that she’d never mentioned anything about him in our calls.

Upon entering the house, the fragrance of recently baked homemade cookies met my cold nostrils. The house was very chilly, and the hardwood floors cracked out their complaint as I walked back and forth across them, while unloading my car.

Things clearly weren’t as I’d expected. With the threat of a more intense ice-storm coming, I started a fire in the fireplace to knock the chill from the air and took a seat at the table where my treat of cookies had been placed by a stack of mail for me to sort, catalogs mostly. Mom had forwarded the important pieces that had arrived during the semester.

I couldn’t eat much of even a single cookie. Something just wasn’t right, and it displeased me that my mother would hold back from me. Before I jumped to conclusions, I decided to go back in to town and see if Dr. P was at the office. He would never tell me something that wasn’t true, and yet, he’d promised to check in on my mom for me.

Grateful for a new battery in my car, I drove to the clinic and pulled around back. Sure enough, as expected, Dr. Palmer’s Suburban was parked in his reserved spot.

He greeted me from the doorway. “You just get into town?”

“About an hour ago. Mom’s at work, and something’s not right. You have a few minutes?”

“I do and a cup a coffee to go with it.”

We sat in the break room like old times, and I went right to the point.

“The place, well, the land, is a mess, and it was cold inside the house with little heat. Mom had assured me Mr. Clancy was going to lease the land and fix the bridge. No one’s brush hogged the land since I’ve been gone, and the old tractor is no longer running and…”

“Take a breath, Wrenn. Ol’ Boots Clancy passed away right after you left. Didn’t your mother tell you?”

“No. That explains a lot. I guess she knew I would worry.”

“I’ll help you. I don’t have a tractor anymore, but come back here on Monday morning and we’ll figure it out. Nothing is going to derail your schooling, you hear me?”

He pushed back from the table and stood beside my chair. When he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, I realized just how much I’d missed him. He had become a father figure to me. I’d missed his supporting strength.

“You’re a blessing, you know that?”

“Anytime,” he whispered and then he was gone.

Dr. Palmer wasn’t wealthy; in fact, he made a very modest income. Most of our patients didn’t have insurance and were on payment plans; a few had social services. For the most part, Dr. P volunteered his time just to keep the place running because he cared about the good of the people. Without him, patients would have to drive a dangerous curvy highway over an hour to see a doctor.

I picked up a notepad and made a list of things that needed to be done and what I could pick up at the hardware store the next week or have delivered. With my list in hand and a new attitude, I drove back out to the house. It was beginning to get dark and ice pellets were hitting my windshield, the early warning to brace for a couple of days of the short winter storm that had been predicted.

Mom had at least prepared and stocked the kitchen with groceries. It was obvious she had cut back on utility use because I noticed blankets piled by her rocker-recliner. The last few years she’d slept many a night in the old beige recliner, pleading that it was more comfortable than lying flat in bed.

There wasn’t a lot of time left before she would be home, and I thought the least I could do was have dinner ready. I found stuff to make spaghetti and garlic toast and thought of the many times she would remind me that I called it “Skettie” when I was growing up. It was my favorite dish when I was a little girl.

I got a glimpse of her headlights coming across the bridge from the window in the den and waited for her to come in.

“Welcome home,” she squealed, smothering me with a hug.

“Hi, Mom.”

She pushed back from me with her hands on her hips. “‘Hi, Mom,’ hmm. That sounded a little bland, and I bet I know why. Don’t start on me. I knew you would come home if I told you. Things didn’t go as planned, but I’ve managed.”

Our once-a-year unloading was going to happen this quick?

I threw up my hands in retreat. “I get it. The truth would’ve been nice, but…I get it. And on Monday, I’m getting a plan together to take care of some things, don’t you worry. By the time I leave for school again, I’ll know everything is done.”

We both stared at each other. When I saw her shoulders drop, I thought maybe she was willing to work with me and let me make some decisions about our place.

And she didn’t need full disclosure of what that entailed.

Monday came with bright sunshine. Any threat of winter precipitation was gone from the forecast. It was funny how a clear day could also provide mental clarity, and I needed that regarding the long days ahead of me.

As planned, I went in to the office to meet with Dr. Palmer. With my list in hand, I took a pen and a piece of copy paper and sat at the table with him and Sara Beth.

“If your mom listed the acreage for sale, I never got wind of it. I know we all tossed it up, but she didn’t go through with it,” Dr. Palmer said.

“I can’t sell it without her permission, so I’ll get that before I go.”

“That place back there with the bridge is her special place. You’re in for a fight. What’re your other options?” Sara Beth asked.

“Lease the land out front. It’s the only option. I’ve got an ad written out that’s going in the regional papers today for their next run. I’ve got enough wood to fix the bridge, just need man power, and I think I may know where I can get that. I’m hoping to borrow a brush hog, since it’s supposed to be warm enough by the end of the week to at least get the place mowed down.”

“I see you’ve got fire in your belly,” Dr. Palmer laughed out.

“No, I’m pissed and frustrated, but not afraid to finally ask for help. She’s gonna kill herself trying to keep that place if I don’t stop her, and this is the only way,” I uttered with a little venom.

I left the office just in the nick of time to make the newspaper deadline. It was when I stopped to get fuel I finally felt gripped by the massive pressure and reached my breaking point. Rock bottom just didn’t seem too far away. I had to know Mom and our home was taken care of, or I couldn’t in good conscience go back to school.

I had both car doors open, cleaning out the trash in my car, when a big gust of wind blew, taking with it all of my receipts, notes, and papers, including the one with A.D.’s phone number, across the convenience store parking lot.

Pieces of paper went everywhere.

I chased papers, gathering them as quickly as I could find them. Then I sat in my car, trying to catch my breath when I noticed in my side mirror Stephan’s truck pulling up behind me. He got out slowly and sauntered up to my open door.

“I wondered how long it would take before I ran into you.” His sheepish grin emitted through tanned skin.

“Hello to you too.”

“Sorry, how are you, Wrenn?” He touched my cheek with one finger. The smell of cigarettes overshadowed the way my nerves heightened at his slightest touch.

“Up to my ass in alligators.” I got out of the car.

“That deep, huh? Can I help?”

“Dealing with you would be like playing cards with the devil.”

“Suit yourself. I gotta go. Good seein’ ya.” He turned and took several long steps back to his truck. I got a view of his nice ass in his starched Cinch jeans.

“Wait. Yes, I need your help and any muscle you can wrangle to come with you.” I posed with my hands on my hips as the wind swooshed my hair around like I was in the center of a vortex. “Look, I’m desperate, and I need some help on our place. Mom can’t do it and…”

He turned to face me with a sweet smile. “Just stop.” He raised his right hand in the air and approached me, until there was only about a foot of space between us. “Look, I know there’s work to be done out there, and if I know you, you’ve made a list.”

“I have. Can we discuss it?”

“I’ll be over in an hour.” He turned and walked back to his truck.

I yelled out to him, “Thanks, Stephan.”

“Anything for you, doll,” he yelled back over his shoulder.