Home to You (2 page)

But that didn’t leave him time for anything else.

Glancing at his watch again, he noted he was going to be late-late-late. He pulled out his cell phone as he unlocked the car, and struggled to balance the phone against his shoulder.

“Call, Chandler Contracts,” he spoke into the phone.

The sun was shining brightly today, even though it wasn’t hot. Summer was past and fall had finally arrived. The wind whipped at his hair as he finally managed to get the lock turned in the door. Ah, the wind.

There was nary a day without it on the plains of Texas.

The phone on the other end began to ring.

He slid into the silver Honda and slipped on the gray seat belt.

Cheryl Wolverton

13

He loved his hometown and all that went with it; the weather was great, he knew everyone, it was small enough to get anywhere pretty fast, but it was still big enough to have most of the stores and businesses he might need—like the contractors he was about to hire.

“Chandler Contractors. How may I direct your call?”

The deep baritone voice came across the line clearly.

Dakota started his car. “This is Dakota Ryder. I have an appointment with Harry Chandler regarding an extension to our church. I’m running about ten minutes behind. I need you to let him know.”

He could hear typing in the background and then,

“Very well. Thank you for letting us know, Pastor Ryder.”

He shook his head with a slight smile, realizing the young man on the other end of the phone must know him. “No problem.”

Clicking the phone off, he dropped it in the empty seat next to him and then pushed the gearshift into Re-verse with one hand while twisting the wheel of the car with the other.

Glancing over his shoulder as he backed out, he shook his head. Life couldn’t get any more hectic.

Chase Sandoval paused as he set the porcelain figurine over the hearth of the fireplace.

They’d been back barely a week in Shenandoah, Texas, and he had finally started unpacking things be-yond the basics they’d needed to survive.

This was why.

The porcelain figure was of a woman wearing a long dress. Her long, wavy hair was pulled back with a blue bow. On her lap sat a tiny child, and the mother stared
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Home to You

down lovingly at the child, her arms protecting it carefully.

He’d gotten the figurine for Ruthie when she’d found out she was pregnant with their child.

With Sarah.

Sarah was eleven and his precious Ruthie was gone.

Chase’s heart contracted and his hands shook.

Cancer.

Chase and Sarah had watched Ruthie fade away before dying.

Why hadn’t she gone for checkups more often? Why had she ignored the signs? More important, why hadn’t she told them about her secret?

Angry at first, Chase had finally sunk into acceptance. However, as acceptance had come he’d realized their house in Fort Worth was too empty without her.

His job, which had kept him gone so much, now hin-dered his ability to raise his daughter.

If he’d been around more, perhaps he would have noticed the changes in his wife before it was too late.

But he hadn’t and his wife was dead and his daughter was on the road to becoming a juvenile delinquent.

She didn’t want to be around him or talk to him. She’d started hanging out with some of the bad kids and running the streets. He’d had to find some way to head it off, and quick.

But how?

The house was too empty, his job hours were too long, and his daughter was acting more like eighteen than eleven…

How he had wished he could capture his own childhood and share it with her.

Cheryl Wolverton

15

And that’s when the idea had struck him.

It’d only taken a few weeks to get a reply back from the local sheriff’s office about jobs and then a few more weeks to sell their house.

Then, he’d come back home, to Shenandoah. This was a place where he could raise his daughter, a place to help her find good influences for her life, a place to start over and try to do things right this time. It was a place where they could heal.

Without Ruthie.

Chase hugged the figurine to his chest, and then, with a sigh, reluctantly released his grip on the tiny porcelain figure as he tried to release past pain, setting it upon the hearth just as he tried to set aside the grief and leave it in the past.

The oak hearth was beautifully crafted, the intricate designs made by loving hands. A mirror stretched above the length of the hearth, reflecting Chase’s own short, dark brown hair and deep brown eyes. He looked a bit haggard—he needed to step a bit closer to the razor that morning.

He turned his gaze from the mirror, glancing around the room. The floors and ceiling beams were also made of wood and shone as if freshly oiled. The walls were white and the windows were tall and narrow, covered by curtains left by the last owners, who’d said they fit these windows and wouldn’t go with their new house.

He appreciated their generous gift.

Still, at moments like this, Chase wondered why he’d bothered with such an elaborate house. There was no one here to care for it, no wife to see that those curtains found matches in furniture or knickknacks.

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Home to You

But he knew.

It was because of Sarah that he’d bought the house.

She needed a home in a good neighborhood with good schools.

The people who had lived here before him had built a fort out back and had a permanent swing set made of wood cemented into the ground. There was a great climbing tree with a picnic table under it. All were constructed with good craftsmanship. He should know—

in his spare time he used to build things. He’d gotten some experience here in Shenandoah, working for a carpenter. He loved building and thought Sarah would love the sturdy, beautifully crafted equipment out back, as well as the large spacious room and the quiet small-town feel of Shenandoah.

It would be a place for Sarah.

Staring at the beautiful, though painful, reminder of his beloved wife, Sarah’s mother, he decided he’d done enough unpacking for the day. He was going into town for lunch.

He and Sarah could unpack together later. Maybe they’d order a pizza tonight and pop in a movie.

But being in this house, alone, with all of the memories—

Turning away, he headed to the door, scooping up his keys on the way, and leaving the pain for later.

Carolyne Ryder sat in the old-fashioned, padded rocking chair, holding her four-month-old grandson, Joshua. He’d been fussy and unable to go to sleep, while his twin sister, Julie, was resting like a little angel in the crib across the room.

Cheryl Wolverton

17

Joshua was asleep now, but Carolyne continued to rock back and forth, back and forth, patting the child’s back.

Her daughter, Susan, didn’t really need her here.

She’d come to that conclusion about three weeks ago.

She had a live-in housekeeper who doubled as a nanny and who was there to take care of the kids. Cokie did a great job.

Still, Susan and her husband, Johnny, had insisted that Carolyne stay as long as she wanted. These were her first grandchildren, Susan had only returned to work six weeks ago, and the kids needed a grandmother there for a while longer…

So Carolyne had stayed.

But she was restless. Montana was getting cold, a cold Carolyne wasn’t used to, and this just wasn’t her home.

Looking around the peach-and-green pastel-shaded room, she smiled at how it had been decorated. Two beautifully multicolored mobiles, one hanging over each crib, danced quietly to their own simple tune, courtesy of the air vent above them that blew out a warm breeze. The cribs had pink-and-blue sheets and baby-bumper pads that were decorated with flounces and tiny teddy bears. A changing table complete with diapers sat between the two cribs.

Carolyne and her husband hadn’t had enough money to have anything this fancy when they had been young and Susan had come along. Even when Dakota arrived, they’d been happy just to make ends meet.

Oh, how holding this child brought back such memories of when her own two children were small—and she was needed.

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Home to You

She stared down at the chubby-cheeked, dark-haired baby in her arms.

Now her children were grown. Susan lived half a continent away from Shenandoah and Carolyne’s life there, she and Johnny having started their own life with their own friends and their own traditions right here in Montana.

Yes, Susan had her husband and babies, and Carolyne, though she knew would always be welcomed, was no longer needed here.

Susan and Johnny needed time alone. Carolyne might have helped at first, but now she was in the way.

She felt in the way with her son, Dakota, as well. He was the pastor of a growing church that took up most of his time, and he didn’t need her anymore, either.

Her husband had died ten years ago, and Carolyne found herself at loose ends. Dakota was so busy with the church that she rarely saw him. He did, however, still live at home with her. She cooked meals, but many days he was so caught up in church work that he missed the meals completely.

She loved him, but she still felt very alone.

Both of her kids were adults.

What was supposed to happen when her kids grew up? What did she have left to look forward to? A simple life, spent growing old in the same house she’d lived in for the last thirty-five years? Would her obituary read that she was fond of puttering in the garden, or that her flower beds took up all of her time? Would her friends say that, yes, she was the one waiting each day for her son to eventually come home and regale her with tales of what went on in his life?

Cheryl Wolverton

19

She sighed.

In the other room she heard the phone ring.

Moments later, Cokie entered the room where Carolyne sat, baby in her arms.

Cokie was of Asian descent and one of the nicest women Carolyne had met in Montana. Cokie was quiet.

She didn’t talk much except to the children. She stayed busy cleaning, cooking or being there for the babies when Carolyne wasn’t.

“You have call, Ms. Carolyne.” Her softly accented voice drifted quietly to Carolyne.

Surprised, Carolyne wondered who it could be.

“Thank you.”

She stood and carefully tiptoed over to the crib and laid her grandson down.

She lovingly tucked the small receiving blanket around him and held her breath as he screwed up his mouth. But his eyes remained closed as he adjusted. As he let out a shuddering breath, his tiny fists relaxed next to his head.

Certain he wasn’t going to wake up, she left the room and treaded down the light brown carpet into the large living room.

Johnny was a lawyer and evidently did well at his job. The house was beautiful, much bigger than the one Susan had grown up in. With soft earth-toned furniture and brass tables, the living room had a very modern look.

Pity her grandchildren learning to walk in this room, she thought, looking at the many hard surfaces they’d have to crash into as they discovered their balance.

She picked up the phone. “Hello?”

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Home to You

“Carolyne? Is that you?”

“Margaret?” Why in the world would her next-door neighbor be calling her? Color drained from her face as she realized something had happened to Dakota. “Dakota? Is he okay?” Fear clutched her heart.

“Oh, he’s fine, he’s fine—shush, sister, I’m getting to it,” the woman on the line told someone in the background.

Margaret and Mary, twin sisters who had lived next door since Carolyne and her husband had moved in thirty-five years ago, well over eighty now, still bickered as they did when their parents were alive and living in the house with them. “Getting to what? Margaret?” Carolyne asked patiently of the one on the phone. Sometimes she had to prompt the sisters because the two would get so caught up in their own conversation they’d forget who they were actually talking to.

“It’s not much, dear,” Margaret said now, and Carolyne didn’t believe her for a minute. She wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t much…

“But,” Margaret continued, “we wanted you to know we’ve missed you and so has Dakota. Has he called you much?”

Carolyne took a slow breath and held it for a moment. The two women were up to something. She could sense it. They weren’t going to tell her immediately, however. She’d just have to wait them out.

Seating herself in the chair next to the Princess-style phone, she crossed her legs. “No, not today. It’s been about a week now since we’ve talked.”

“I thought as much.”

“He’s a busy man,” Carolyne defended her son.

Cheryl Wolverton

21

“Is he ever. No, sister, she said he was busy.
Busy.

Now just wait until I’m off the phone. Carolyne, are you still there?”

Carolyne nodded. “Yes, Margaret. As I said, Dakota has his own life. He doesn’t need me there or calling him constantly.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

Margaret dropped that last sentence and utter silence filled the phone line.

Now they were getting somewhere. But what was this all about? “Why do you say that, Margaret?”

“Well, I’m not one to tell tales, now. You know that, Carolyne dear, but then, when I feel something isn’t right, I’m not one to go hide, either. I’m not some faint-hearted girl who simply swoons every time I see something like, well, you know…”

No, she didn’t know.

“So, I’m glad it was me that saw it. Yes, sister, and you, too. She always thinks I’m trying to best her, Carolyne. Anyway,
we
saw it. And I felt it my duty to call you.”

Margaret took a deep breath, but before she could continue, Mary’s voice came across the line. “There’s a strange woman on his front doorstep.”

“Mary. Get off that extension and let me handle this!”

Carolyne held the phone away from her ear, frown-ing. Margaret was usually the more practical of the two.