Читать книгу The Cowboy's Healing Ways - Brenda Minton - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Morning sun soaked the room in bright light and warmth. The rain had ended. Laura stretched in the softest bed she had ever slept in, but her relief didn’t last. Her head ached and she felt as if lead weights had been placed in her arms and legs. She rolled over and squinted to look at the clock.

She was in Myrna Cooper’s home. She had made it to Dawson. But now what? She had nowhere to go. She had no money and no real friends.

Dressed in the same clothes she’d worn the day before, she tried to run her fingers through her hair and make herself presentable. Her suitcase was in the trunk of her car, wherever that happened to be. She shivered and reached for the afghan that Myrna had draped over her shoulders the night before. Light-headed and achy, she walked down the hall to the wide stairs.

As she walked through the living room a quilt-covered lump on the couch moved. She paused as he rolled over, flopping an arm over his face. He had stayed. Not because he wanted to make sure she was okay, but because he’d been worried about leaving his grandmother alone with her.

Laura didn’t blame him. Instead she liked that he was the kind of person who would stay, spending the night on an old Victorian sofa just to make sure his grandmother was safe.

The aroma from the kitchen pulled her away from the good doctor and back to her goal. Food. She could smell coffee and bacon. As she walked through the door, Myrna turned, smiling. She flipped a pancake and pointed to the coffeepot.

“Help yourself to coffee and the pancakes will be done shortly.”

“Thank you.” Laura turned and coughed. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I’ve got it handled. How are you feeling this morning?”

“About the same.” Her body still ached, and her throat burned. She was looking forward to the coffee. “I should make arrangements, though. To go somewhere.”

She needed a plan and she didn’t have one. This had been it for her. This had been her last resort.

“You’ll do no such thing.” Myrna handed her a plate of pancakes. “Sit down and eat.”

She took the plate, her hands trembling as she moved to the counter. She spread butter and then poured syrup across the golden-brown cakes. Her mouth watered as she thought about the last time she’d had pancakes, good pancakes.

From the living room she heard shuffling, mumbling and then footsteps. Myrna shook her head and then poured more batter on the griddle. A moment later Jesse walked through the door, disapproving but gorgeous with his chocolate-brown eyes still sleepy, and shadowy whiskers covering his lean cheeks. His straight, dark hair went in all directions, and he must have known because he was trying to brush it down with his fingers.

Laura took a bite of pancake and looked away from the barefoot cowboy in his faded jeans and flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. She glanced quickly at her faded jeans and fuzzy sweater, both from a decade or two past, trying hard not to make comparisons.

“How are you this morning?” He walked straight to the coffeepot and grabbed a mug from the cabinet. He looked at her and pulled out another one. “Want coffee?”

“Please.” She glanced in Myrna’s direction. Myrna flipped another pancake on the platter and then scooped bacon out of a skillet.

Jesse turned from the coffeepot. He set a cup of coffee on the counter next to her. “You can sit in the dining room.”

“I’m good.”

He shrugged one shoulder and turned away from her. With an ease that she envied he walked up behind his grandmother, gave her a loose hug and pulled a plate from the holder on the counter.

“Do you have anywhere to go?” He leaned against the counter, watching her.

She swallowed a syrupy bite and shook her head. No time like the present to just get it all out there. She wouldn’t hide her story or her life from them, not after they’d been so kind. Well, Myrna had been kind. Jesse... She watched as he poured syrup over the stack of pancakes on his plate. He didn’t look at her.

Jesse had been kind, too.

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” She sighed and pushed the plate away, unable to eat the last few bites. A place to go, a job, she needed those things. Had to have them in order to fix her life.

The headache she had thought gone returned with a vengeance, pounding behind her eyes and in the back of her head. She rubbed her forehead.

“I had hoped Aunt Sally would give me a place to stay until I could get back on my feet.”

As she’d talked, Jesse opened a cabinet door and pulled out a bottle of pills. He shook a couple into his hand and handed them to her. Laura took them, smiling her gratitude and washing the medicine down with her coffee.

“Well, now, honey, why don’t you tell us what knocked you off your feet?” Myrna turned from the stove, wiping her hands on the corner of her apron. “And we’ll see if we can’t make a plan. Sometimes everything looks dark because we haven’t had friends to help us put our situation in a better light.”

“I’ve been living in a halfway house for the past month.”

“And before that?” Jesse asked as he leaned against the counter, his plate in his hands.

“Before that I was in jail.”

“Jail?” Myrna’s eyes understandably widened and she glanced from Laura to Jesse. Of course he had an “I told you so” look on his face. His dark brows arched and he frowned.

Laura scraped her plate in the sink and turned on the water and then the garbage disposal. She gave it a few seconds and flipped the switch off. That gave her a little time to gather her thoughts and prepare herself.

How much did she tell? Did she tell the truth or the court’s version of the truth? A jury hadn’t believed her, so why should anyone else? Evidence, beyond a shadow of a doubt, pointed to her guilt.

“I was in jail on a drug-dealing and possession charge.” She looked away. She wanted to pretend this wasn’t her life and that people didn’t look at her with surprise, disgust and every other emotion she’d seen in the past month.

From now on this would be her story.

“You sold drugs?” Myrna scoffed and shook her head. “Now, I might be old, but I’m not naive. I’m having a hard time picturing you selling poison.”

Laura raised her chin a notch and blinked back the sting of tears the well-meaning words brought to her eyes. Myrna Cooper clearly wasn’t like everyone else. She was a tall woman with every gray hair in place. This morning she’d donned jeans and a sweatshirt, not the pretty pastel suit she’d worn the previous evening.

Laura wanted to think of everything but the three months she’d spent in jail. She could still hear the clank of metal doors. She could still imagine herself surrounded by gray and steel. Three months of being alone and trying to tell herself she’d survive. And she had. Somehow she’d survived.

“Laura?” Myrna stepped to her side and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

A quick glance in Jesse Cooper’s direction and Laura knew he had no intention of giving her a pass. His brown eyes were no longer sleepy or soft. She had never wanted this to be her life. He’d obviously grown up here, in a safe and loving family. He had no idea.

The “ifs” would drive her crazy. If her mother hadn’t died. If her stepfather hadn’t been abusive. If she hadn’t let her stepbrother stay in her apartment when he showed up six months ago. That decision had cost her her freedom, her good reputation, her job and her apartment.

Because no one believed her when she said her brother had put the drugs and the money in her purse as she got pulled over that day. He’d bailed on her, running down a side street and disappearing. She’d reached into her purse to grab the bag and the police had caught her as they walked up to her car. More drugs had been found in her apartment.

“I need to go now.” She slid past Myrna Cooper.

“Wait a second, young lady.” Myrna’s voice held a commanding tone that Laura couldn’t ignore. She turned, her vision swimming. She leaned against the wall and waited.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Cooper. You’ve been very kind to me. Now I need to go.”

“Your car is at the local garage, so you really can’t go anywhere unless you plan on walking.” Myrna sighed. “Tell me what happened.”

“I was convicted of felony possession and distribution. There’s really nothing more to tell.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s the finding of the court and the ruling stands.” Laura stood, holding the back of the stool. “I really need to get my car.”

“I think you need to sit back down.” Jesse moved away from the counter he’d been leaning on. He moved with power and ease, and she felt very weak and small.

“Laura, sit down.”

She nodded and did as he commanded. “I should have called before coming to Dawson.”

“Well, I for one am glad God put me in your path last night.” Myrna hugged her tightly. “We’ll figure this out.”

“No, I really should go.” Laura glanced at Jesse and then back to Myrna. “I should go because having me here is the last thing you need.”

“Jesse, you’re the doctor—tell her she can’t leave in this condition.”

Jesse smiled and shook his head. “I’m not getting in the middle of this argument. Gran, you’re right—she needs to rest. Laura, you have to do what you think is best. My opinion probably won’t count for much.”

Laura folded the afghan and placed it on the stool. “Myrna, thank you for everything.”

“Where do you think you’ll go?” Myrna asked.

“I’ll find a place.” Laura wanted to hug the older woman, but she couldn’t. She thought she’d fall apart if Myrna comforted her in any way.

It had been too long since anyone in her life had cared. She picked up her purse and stood for a moment in front of Myrna, wishing she’d had someone like this woman.

“I don’t like this, not one bit.” Myrna shook her head, looking from Laura to Jesse.

“Thank you for letting me stay the night.” Laura turned away and headed for the front door, walking fast and blinking furiously to clear her vision.

* * *

As Laura left, Jesse hugged his grandmother, the sweetest woman he knew. She stood stiff in his arms, her mouth in a tight and unhappy line.

“Gran, we don’t know her. You don’t know the whole story.”

“She told us the whole story and I know her aunt. Jesse, people have stories. That doesn’t mean they are stuck in that story. People make mistakes. They do what they have to in the situations they’re in. Now, how can we call ourselves Christians if we aren’t willing to give someone a second chance? You’ve had second chances.”

“What do you want me to do?”

His grandmother’s eyes filled with tears. “She needs help and a place to stay.”

“I can get her a room in Grove and then we’ll see if we can get her some assistance. You’re right—no one knows better than I do about second chances. The other thing I know is how dangerous the drug trade can be. People get angry. They get revenge.”

The front door clicked, ending their conversation.

“Go after her, Jesse.” His grandmother put a hand on his back, moving him forward.

“I have to get my shoes.”

“Well, you’d better hurry. She’s sick with nowhere to go. If something happens to her...” His grandmother’s face paled and she shook her head a little. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He slid his feet into his boots and grabbed his jacket. “I won’t let anything happen to her. I’m also not letting anything happen to you.”

He hurried out the door, putting his coat on as he went. Laura White stood at the end of the drive, a tall woman with auburn hair blowing in the light breeze. She shivered and hugged herself tightly, turning to look at him with a wan smile on her pale face.

Okay, he wouldn’t get the Samaritan of the Year award. But what in the world was he supposed to do with her? He walked to the end of the drive, thinking through options and not coming up with much. He guessed he could take her to his parents.

As he approached, Laura’s chin came up a notch, a little pride coming to the surface. He remembered being a kid, digging deep to find that pride to get past his own humiliation. He knew what it took for a person to find that strength.

“I can walk. I’m just not sure where I’m going or how I’ll get my car. I can’t afford to pay for repairs.” She turned, coughing into her shoulder before facing him again. The cold weather made her nose red and her gray eyes sparkle. “I don’t have insurance.”

“I’m sure Gran is going to pay for the repairs. She did pull out in front of you.”

“She didn’t see me. The rain was unbelievable.”

“She really wants you to stay here.”

Laura shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Then I’ll drive you to Grove. We’ll get you a hotel room and find some way to help you get back on your feet.”

She looked past him, her eyes damp with unshed tears. “You really don’t have to do this. I can get a ride.”

“No, you’re not okay. You’re sick. It looks like we’re going to get more rain and you have nowhere to go.” Jesse adjusted the hat he’d put on before walking outside. “I’m going to be honest. I’m not crazy about my grandmother bringing in strangers. But I’m also not about to let you walk off without help.”

She shivered. Jesse shrugged out of his jacket. He draped it across her shoulders and she huddled into it.

“Let’s get in my truck before the rain hits.” He put a hand on her arm and steered her in the right direction.

When they reached the passenger side of his truck she turned away from him, coughing again. The cough racked her thin body and when the spell ended she leaned against his truck, breathing deeply to catch her breath.

“You okay?”

“I’m good.” She turned, smiling, her face pale and her eyes huge but rimmed with dark circles.

“Right.” He opened the door and she climbed in. “When we get to town we’ll stop at the store for some cough syrup and maybe herbal tea.”

“You don’t have to.” She clicked the seat belt in place. “Look, you can stop pretending you’re my appointed keeper. I don’t need one. I’m good on my own. I’ve been on my own for a long time.”

“I’m not pretending anything. I’m just trying to help you.” He started the truck and shifted into Reverse, glancing into the rearview mirror as he backed down the driveway. “I’m trying to make sure you’re going to be okay.”

“I’m trying to let you off the hook.” She closed her eyes and his big coat enveloped her. “I’m so tired.”

“I know you are. On both counts.” He drove through Dawson and headed toward Grove. “You don’t have to let me off the hook.”

He glanced her way and then turned his attention back to the road. “Do you have job experience?”

“Yes.”

“And?” He drove out of Dawson, wondering if she was being purposely vague.

“I worked in an office and then as a manager for a cleaning crew. I was going to school to be a nurse.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t know what else to say. It seemed like a lot to throw away.

“Now I’m a felon and no one will hire me. I can’t even rent an apartment.”

“There has to be somewhere you can go.”

She sighed. “In a perfect world there would be justice and I would get a do-over.”

“There are those things—sometimes they’re just hard to find.”

She nodded but didn’t respond. He found himself wanting to know a whole lot more about her than she seemed willing to tell. The curiosity grew when she reached into the side pocket of her purse and pulled out a tiny framed photo. She held it tightly and closed her eyes.

Everyone had a story, his grandmother liked to remind him. They all had things they wished they could do over. He would have been more careful with other people’s feelings.

When they reached Grove, he pulled up to the grocery store. “Let’s run in here and we’ll get what you’ll need for a few days.”

She didn’t answer. He leaned to touch her shoulder. She opened her eyes wide and moved back a little.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m going in. You stay here and rest.” He reached into the back seat of the truck and grabbed a blanket. “I’ll trade. Blanket for the jacket.”

She took off his canvas jacket and handed it to him. He draped the blanket over her. She smiled a weak smile.

“Back in a few.”

She nodded and he got out of the truck. As he crossed the parking lot he remembered that he’d left his keys in the ignition. He looked back and saw her in the passenger side, leaning against the door. Sleeping.

His truck would either be there when he came out, or it wouldn’t. He sighed and walked through the automatic doors of the store, shooting one last glance in the direction of his truck.

The things he let his grandmother get him into. He’d never learn.

* * *

Laura woke up in an empty truck parked in front of a grocery store. She remembered Jesse telling her he would be back soon. She glanced at her watch and pulled the phone out of her pocket.

She dialed the number she had memorized. This phone call was all she could have for the time being. It wasn’t enough, but it was better than nothing.

After a few rings a woman answered.

“Mrs. Duncan, this is Laura White.” She coughed a little and then cleared her throat. “I’m so sorry.”

“Laura, you sound terrible. Are you okay?”

“I think I have the flu, but I’m good. Things are good.” She hated the lie, but she couldn’t admit that her life was falling apart. She wasn’t even close to where she needed to be.

“Did you find a place in Dawson?” Mrs. Duncan hesitated, then cleared her throat. “Do you have a job?”

“Not yet.” She glanced out the window at the grocery store. “I’m getting a place to stay, but it isn’t permanent.”

“Oh, I had hoped this would work out for you.”

Laura closed her eyes. “Me, too.”

“Okay, let me get Abigail.”

And then there were shouts, laughter, her daughter. “Mommy.”

“Abigail, I miss you.” She swallowed the tight lump in her throat and fought the burning sting of tears.

“I miss you, too.”

“What have you been doing?” Laura closed her eyes, remembering her daughter’s face, how it felt to hold her. Abigail had dark brown hair and gray eyes. Laura held the memories tightly. “How’s school?”

“I made all As and Gina gave me money and we ate pizza. I made cookies last night with the other kids.”

Normal moments. A normal life. Her daughter should always have those things. “That sounds like fun. And I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you, too, Mommy. Okay, I have to go. When do I get to see you?”

“Soon. Very soon.” Promises she hoped she could keep.

“I pray for you, Mommy.”

Laura nodded and her throat ached. “I know. Me, too, sugarplum. Bye.” She whispered the words as her daughter rushed through another “I love you” and hung up.

She cried. Holding the school picture she kept in her purse, she cried. Abigail prayed for her. She thought back to childhood stories of faith and God. She hadn’t thought much about either since her mother died. Her stepfather had been abusive and Laura had left and taken to the streets, believing life on her own had to be better than under his control.

A string of boyfriends, a marriage that hadn’t lasted long enough to change anything, a stepbrother who put her in prison and now this. She’d had plans and dreams for her life. She’d wanted more than this, more than barely getting by. She’d wanted more for Abigail. She still wanted more for her daughter.

She shivered in the cool truck and closed her eyes against the bright sky. Nothing was the way she’d planned. She’d really thought her aunt Sally, a woman she remembered from childhood, would be here to help pick up the pieces of her life, to help her believe again. She’d prayed that she would find something here, a way to get Abigail back.

Instead she had the kindness of a stranger and little more than she’d had the day before. She rested her forehead against the cool glass of the window and thought through the list of things she had lost. She used to believe in people. She used to believe in herself. A long time ago she’d had faith.

She closed her eyes and prayed to get all three back. She had never been a quitter. She wouldn’t quit now, not on life or herself. She wouldn’t quit because of Abigail.