Reinventing Leona (27 page)
“You don’t want anything from anybody. Am I right?”
“Everything is black-and-white for Parker Kemp, no gray matter. How easy life must be when all major decisions are color-coded.” Maddie could not restrain the sarcasm creeping into her rising voice. “Don’t know what to do with your life? Pick a card and there the perfect answer will be written out in nice, neat penmanship. Need to know where a relationship is going? No problem . . . either marry or break up. It’s all in the cards. Just pick one.”
“Is that why you called? Something happen between you and Justin?”
Maddie’s jaw tightened. “A cucumber expert and a relationship counselor. Talented guy, aren’t you?”
“You said it, not me.” Parker flipped the radio station back to country. “Knight in shining armor gets to pick the music.”
Large, wet flakes covered the windshield faster than the wipers could keep up. Maddie turned toward the passenger window, her hot breath forming a foggy little cloud on the glass. Next to Momma, no one could get her riled like this. She didn’t need psychoanalysis; she just needed a ride home. That’s it. Nothing more. Just a ride.
Drifting snow blurred the edges of the road. A blizzard warning interrupted the twang of the country song. Maddie inhaled slowly, fortifying her brain with fresh oxygen and hoping she could regain control of her overwrought emotions. She curled one leg up under her, bumping into something hard.
She pulled out the paperback book wedged under her foot. “What’s this?”
“Spanish.”
“I can see that it’s Spanish, but why do you have it?”
“Can’t a man be bilingual if he is so inclined?” Parker’s tone had an icy edge Maddie was sure the weather had not put there.
“Certainly, but why do you want to learn Spanish?”
“You’re bilingual.”
Maddie straightened in the bucket seat. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He took his eyes off the road for a second and stared straight at her. “Okay, you’ve got me.”
If it was not his directness that disturbed her, why did Maddie feel she had broken the seal on a Christmas present for an early peek . . . a forbidden thrill she had no right to demand?
Parker continued, his face all serious. “I want to be able to read the menu at a Mexican restaurant.”
Hoping to cover her disappointment at his refusal to let her trespass, Maddie laughed. “Parker, don’t tease.”
Immediately he returned his focus to the indiscernible line between pavement and sky, the muscle in his clenched square jaw twitching.
Maddie reached out and touched his jacket. She could feel the heat beneath the wool surface. “Why Spanish, Parker?”
“Okay. If you really must know.” Again, he looked into her eyes. “I plan to work in South America.”
“You’re leaving?” The words constricted Maddie’s airway. Served her right for being the inquiring mind who had to know. Now her persistence had paid off. He’d answered her question. Why wasn’t she more pleased at hitting pay dirt?
“Yes.”
“When?” she managed to cough out.
He shrugged. “After I save enough money.”
Brake lights glowed up ahead. Parker lightly touched the brakes and the truck bed fishtailed back and forth before sliding to a stop.
Maddie exhaled slowly, squeezing the paper dictionary tight. “What are you going to do down there?”
“You said Third World countries are crying for folks who know agriculture.”
“
I
said that? When?”
“The summer you came home from Guatemala.” Parker lifted his foot from the brake and touched the gas. “Here we go. Hang on.”
“You’re going to give up your job in the States because of something a naïve college girl said years ago?”
“I’m going because I feel called.” Voice firm, knuckles white, Parker steered the truck through the rutted tracks left by the few fearless morons still on the road.
“Who called?”
“God.”
“You sure?”
“I’m positive.”
Maddie could not believe what she was hearing from this grown, seemingly levelheaded man. Who, besides her parents, actually believed God spoke to them? “J.D. Harper thought the same thing, and look what that foolishness did to him.”
“I saw what it did to him. . . . Accepting God’s call made him one of the happiest men on the planet.”
Maddie chewed on the barbs of truth the prickly reprimand contained. Parker was right. Her father was one of the most fulfilled people she had ever known. The Reverend Harper looked for the good in every circumstance, from a drop in contributions to the Storys dropping in. “Count it all joy,” he would say. How had Parker known her father so much better than she? Maddie’s curiosity refused to let the discussion end. “So what does this
call
include?”
“I intend to go down there, teach poor people how to feed their families and, more importantly, how to feed their souls.”
“Parker, look out!”
Maddie screamed, but her warning came too late. The sound of metal impacting metal pierced the storm. Then silence.
* * * * *
Leona picked up her cell and scrolled to the number of her mother’s chauffeur.
“Melvin, how are the roads?”
“Pretty rough, but I’m almost to the city.”
“I just wanted to let you know, David has been delayed. He said they diverted his flight to Atlanta.”
“I’m not surprised. This weather is worsening.”
“Why don’t you go on to Mother’s and wait there? I’ll call when I hear from him.”
“Anything else I can do while I’m in town?”
“Pick up Mother’s mail. Oh, and see if Sophie can pack a few things for the old girl’s rehab stay.”
“I’ll take care of it, Mrs. Harper.”
Mrs. Harper?
The title she’d cherished all these years now plucked the taut strings of her raw nerves. “Leona.”
“Excuse me?” Melvin sounded confused.
“Call me Leona.”
Not Naomi, for I am bitter.
A hammering pain echoed in the hollow cavity where her sense of purpose had resided since the day she’d said I do. “I’ve got to go, but if it looks too bad, don’t try to bring David home tonight. Just ride out the storm at Mother’s. And Melvin . . . be careful.”
* * * * *
Maddie peeled the glove from her trembling hand and firmly pressed the leather into the gash on Parker’s head. Placing two fingers against the pulse point in his neck, she counted. The steady beat slowed the gallop of her own racing heart.
Thank God, he’s alive.
“Parker?” Maddie kissed his closed eyes, tamping down her sense of foreboding when he did not respond. “I’ll be right back.”
She kicked open the passenger door and stumbled out into the blinding snow. Leaving an unconscious patient was not her first choice, but someone might be injured in the other car, and moving Parker was out of the question until his spinal cord could be protected. Stepping over pieces of torn metal, Maddie made her way past the accordion-shaped hood of their truck and peeked inside the shattered driver’s side window of the crumpled SUV.
Maddie pressed the air bag away from the stranger’s face. A pungent white powder filled the air and choked her words. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” The bloodied man removed his broken glasses and wiped his eyes.
“I’m going to see if I can get you out.” Maddie tugged on the mutilated latch. She breathed a sigh of relief when the door sprang open. “Before you move, let me check your injuries.”
“I’m good.” The middle-aged man unsnapped his seat belt, then slid out from under the air bag. Other than being a bit wobbly on his feet, the shaken fellow seemed fine. His teeth chattered as he rubbed his arms. “I saw your headlights, but I couldn’t stop.”
“None of us could.” Maddie reached out to steady him, checking the cut on the bridge of his nose. “You’re not bleeding anywhere else, but you might have internal injuries. I don’t want you to move around too much. Do you have a coat?”
A puzzled look clouded his face. “Yeah. Somewhere.”
“Better put it on. If we keep your body heat up, that will help stave off shock.”
He opened the door to the backseat and pulled out a parka. “You a doctor?”
“More or less.”
“Anybody hurt in your truck?”
“My friend. He’s unconscious.”
Maddie shifted under his wary gaze. She wondered which part the dazed man didn’t believe—that Parker was knocked out cold or that she and Parker were just friends.
In a few seconds, he turned and reached under the driver’s seat. “I have a blanket. You need it?”
“That would be great.”
The man freed a bundle of red wool. “What else can I do? You want me to help you get your boyfriend out of that mess?”
“No. We shouldn’t move him . . . unless we have no choice.” Maddie looked at the man’s shaken expression, amazed he could think so clearly. “Try to stay warm until help gets here. You have another blanket or anything else you can put on?”
“Was on my way up north, so I’ve got some stuff in the back. How about you, lady?”
“I’m good.” Maddie took the blanket. “I’ll call for help, but it could be a while before anyone can get to us.”
“What else can I do?”
“Are you a praying man?”
“Yes.”
“Then climb in your backseat, wrap up, and get to it.”
Pacing the gate area, David thumped his watch. Two minutes past the last time he checked. At least
cancelled
had not replaced
delayed
flashing beside the flight numbers listed on the bank of departure screens. That fact should have offered some consolation, but diverting from New York to Atlanta had put him in a very nonconciliatory mood.
He dialed his mother’s cell. Still no answer. Not answering at home either.
Where is she?
Keeping an eye on the serious-faced TV weatherman pointing at the swath of white blanketing the middle of the country, he prayed Momma wasn’t up to her eyeballs in a snowdrift.
David dropped into the slick vinyl seating, trying to rein in the worst-case scenarios crowding out any possibility of clear thinking. Letting his imagination run wild wasn’t helping anyone.
What would Dad do?
The random thought hit his jumbled mind like a sledgehammer. He’d give anything if he could call his father. From cars to girls, the man had always been a trusted sounding board . . . until they differed on what David should do with his life.
Regret for the way he handled that conversation had haunted David for the past four years. Why did he harden his heart and storm out of his father’s office? Why had he let his pride get the better of him and not called to apologize? Dad would have understood. He would have forgiven. He was a pastor. He had to, no matter his opinion.
Guilt puddled on David’s heart like the black oil spot his old Chevy left on the drive. Punching in directory assistance, he asked for the number to the
Messenger,
then waited for the connection.
“Modyne, David Harper here. Is Momma in the office?”
“No.” Modyne’s gravelly voice made him wonder who else knew the woman smoked out behind the paper. “Don’t expect her to come in today. It’s Saturday, you know.”
Unable to squelch the panic thrashing his gut, David fought to summon a businesslike tone. “I can’t get Momma to answer her phone. Just wondered if she might have come by the office.”
“Most people are staying off the roads.”
David felt the blood drain from his face. “It’s that bad?”
“One pileup after another. You’d think these yokels had never seen snow before.”
Suddenly the image of Momma bundling him in a garbage bag so he could make a snow angel popped into David’s head. Growing up where there was no need to own a heavy winter coat, he knew even the smallest amount of frozen precipitation had the potential to turn Southern traffic upside down. Hopefully, Momma was not one of those brake-happy motorists spinning out of control.
God, please don’t let anything happen to my momma.
David raked his fingers through his hair. “If she comes in, can you tell her that I’m still in Atlanta, but my flight is due to leave any time now?”
“Sure.”
He’d pressed the tight-lipped guardian of the local news this far—might as well ask one more question. “Do you know if she was sending Melvin to get me?”
“Nope.”
David continued his line of questioning, badgering the hostile witness for another shred of information. “Will I be able to make it to Mt. Hope tonight?”
“I doubt it. Ivan just got back with photos. Place is iced over. Looks slicker than snot.”
Click
.
Objection sustained.
David squeezed his eyes tight, but he could not block out the helplessness swirling like the wintry images on the overhead TV screens. He closed the phone and dropped his head into his hands.
An unfamiliar hand tapped his shoulder. “Excuse me.”
David lifted his throbbing head. “Can I help you?”
The well-dressed thirtysomething man offered a sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but did you say you were going to Mt. Hope this evening?”
Irritation clenched David’s jaw. “Yes.”
“That’s where we’re headed.” The cheeky fellow did a half turn, panning the immaculately groomed entourage seated on a row of airport vinyl. A breathtaking blonde with a small pregnancy bump smiled, then nudged the angelic children nestled on either side of her to do the same. The kids promptly obeyed.
David studied the foursome. They appeared to be ripped from the pages of
Good Housekeeping
. “Well, let’s hope we get there.”
“You from Mt. Hope?” Optimism shone from the man’s unduly impressed face.
“Grew up there.” David intended his terse answer to end the maddening interrogation. All his life he’d been obliged to answer when people pried into his business, but not anymore. He was his own man. From now on he would divulge nothing and let the nosy world guess.
“Nice place?” The man offered a hopeful smile. Despite his unseasonable tan, pleated chinos, and Bruno Magli slip-ons, something about the inquisitive guy seemed . . . genuine.
“Nice enough.” Chafed by his interrogator’s ability to upset the indifference he had struggled to cultivate, David seized the opportunity to step down from the witness stand. He straightened in his seat, determined to take over the line of questioning. “Your first visit?”