Читать книгу Her Holiday Fireman - Kathleen Y'Barbo - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Orlando now stood at the entrance, his stance unmistakably paternal. “What happened over there?”

“Just helping a stranger to find a place to live in Vine Beach. Apparently he’s taking Pop’s old job as fire chief.” At Orlando’s surprised expression, Leah continued, “It’s fine. He seems nice. I told him I’d make a couple of calls.”

“How about you let Riley Burkett help that stranger?”

She thought of the Realtor whose recent marriage to the town veterinarian’s mother had caused him to scale back on his real estate business. “I thought he wasn’t going to work during the off-season.”

Orlando shrugged. “Won’t know unless you ask him.” His eyes narrowed. “Besides, you don’t know this man from Adam and I’d rather you not get too involved in his personal life.”

She shook her head. “Are you serious? I don’t know a thing about Ryan other than the fact he’s looking for a place here.”

“Ryan is it?” Orlando shook his head.

Leah linked arms with Pop’s best friend. “He’s the new fire chief, remember? I was just being nice.”

Orlando gave her a skeptical look before placing his weathered hand over hers. “Any fellow who wants to spend time with you will have to spend some time with me first.”

She almost opened her mouth to remind Orlando that she was, in fact, well past the age where she needed that sort of supervision.

“I’ll be sure to let you know soon as a fellow wants to spend time with me. Now, go on home. I don’t mind finishing up here.”

“I’ll go, but lock the door behind you.” Orlando paused to glance across the highway. “Guessing you’ll make a stop at the stables before you go home.”

She shrugged. “Until I can afford to hire someone to do it, I’m in charge there, too.”

Orlando’s expression softened. “Maybe it’s time to let those horses...”

“Go?” Leah shook her head as she thought of the half-dozen palominos that were left of the once-expansive Berry herd. “I can’t do that, Orlando. Not yet.”

She released her grip on the man who’d taken over where Pop left off then felt the unexpected sting of tears. With a quick hug and a word of thanks, she sent Orlando on his way. Then, turning the lock behind her, Leah set to work. By the time she stopped, the place had been thoroughly mopped, shined and polished, though it didn’t really need a bit of it. But she felt better, or at least she’d worked out the majority of her frustration.

Pop had been decidedly worse when she’d visited this morning. Though she knew she’d eventually lose him to Alzheimer’s disease, Leah mourned every step on the way down the slippery slope.

A few minutes later she’d locked up and driven the short distance across the highway to her favorite part of the family property, Berry Hill Stables. Carefully avoiding looking over in the direction of the burned-out shell that remained of her family’s pre–Civil War home—the latest casualty of her father’s inability to function safely on his own—Leah turned toward the pasture. There the last remaining horses from the once-plentiful herd were waiting.

“No ride today, Maisie,” she said as climbed up on the bottom rung of the fence and petted the palomino mare’s sand-colored mane. While Leah was busy with Maisie, the mare’s partner in crime, a glorious filly named Boo, ambled up and nudged at the pocket that both horses knew would contain their favorite snack.

Leah pulled out two apples, offering one first to the impatient Boo then to the more tolerant Maisie. The sound of tires on gravel caught her attention, and her heart sank.

“Oh, please. Not today,” she said under her breath.

Jack Murdoch—land developer, current mayor of Vine Beach and an old friend of Pop’s—honked his horn, sending the skittish Maisie and the rest of the herd galloping for open pasture. Boo, however, munched on her apple from a safe distance as the pickup approached. By the time the old man pulled his truck to a stop a few feet away and turned off the engine, Leah found she could force a smile. No matter how she felt about Mayor Murdoch and his real estate investors, she’d not allow him to see it on her face.

The old man’s gaze swept the horizon, no doubt taking in the ruined home, the still-sturdy barn and various outbuildings that dotted the vast golden prairie. Bordered by the horizon to the north and the beach to the south, Berry land also included Pop’s Seafood Shack and the little oceanfront cabin where she now lived.

“Good afternoon, Mayor. What brings you out this way?” she said, anxious to be rid of her guest.

“Had a nice visit with your daddy just now.” He smiled. “Told me to tell you he misses seeing you.”

“I was there this morning,” she said before she could stop herself.

Pop’s memory issues often caused him to forget who’d come to see him. It took all she had not to remind the mayor of this. Instead she kept her mouth shut even as she began to aim her prayers skyward. If the Lord answered quickly enough, Leah just might find a way to remember her manners.

“He also told me to tell you he’d be just fine with you letting all this go.” The mayor swung his attention to meet her stare. “You know that restaurant ain’t up to fire code, and the house over there ought to have been torn down the night it burned. It’s plain foolishness that keeps both of them standing.”

Leah’s fists clenched. Still she said nothing. Though it was quite possible Pop said just that, it was also true that he’d neither remember nor agree with the idea should she ask him next time she saw him.

Not that it mattered, for she had the final say in all legal matters now, not Pop.

Finally the mayor let out a long sigh. “Look, honey, we’re on the same side here.” Murdoch rested his elbow on the open window of the truck. “All the boys and I are trying to do is help.”

“Then, please, let the boys know I appreciate their concern. However, Berry land is not for sale. Not now, and not ever.” She mustered up one last sweet smile. “So, thank you for the visit, but now that you’ve delivered your message, I hope you’ll understand that I’ve got things to do.”

To punctuate her statement, Leah turned her back on the mayor and headed for the barn. She’d almost reached the weathered barn doors when she heard the truck engine roar to life.

“I’m just trying to make things easier for you, Leah. I don’t understand why you insist on being so stubborn,” he called over the sound of the engine.

She picked up her pace, stuffing her fists into the pockets of her jeans. Between Pop and Mayor Murdoch and Vine Beach’s annoyingly handsome new fire chief she’d just about had it with people for today. And while she could do nothing about the lingering worry over her visit with her father, there was something she could do about Jack Murdoch.

Intent on calling the care facility to have the mayor removed from the list of approved guests for Pop, she realized she’d left her phone in the car. Just as well, she decided, for that was a task better undertaken after she’d calmed down a bit.

The mayor whipped around his vehicle to drive between her and the barn. “Look, I came out here as a favor to your daddy. One day you’re going to wish you’d listened to us.”

“Thanks for stopping by, Mayor Murdoch. I’ll be sure and tell Pop you were here.”

Leah slipped inside the cool shade of the barn and waited until the mayor was gone. Only then did she give vent to her anger. Thankfully, the pitchfork was nearby. As she stabbed the implement into the fresh hay, all Leah could think was that while the Lord knew what He was doing, she had absolutely no clue.

* * *

Ryan returned to his house in Houston’s Heights neighborhood just as the sun was setting. Climbing out of the Jeep, he could hear his bullmastiff’s bark of greeting from the backyard. “Hey, Chief,” he called. The For Rent sign was gone—likely picked up by the Realtor this afternoon—as was the lockbox that had hung on the front door.

He stepped into the front parlor of the house he and Jenna were supposed to have shared together, then shut the door behind him. Ignoring the memories and regrets that danced around the blanket-wrapped furniture and across the oak floors, Ryan made his way through the maze of boxes stacked in the dining room to slip out the kitchen door. The deck was broad and shaded, the swing gently swaying in the crisp November breeze.

The old swing was his thinking place, the spot where he went to sort out whatever was bothering him. More than one of his buddies had suggested he go see a grief counselor to deal with the lingering guilt of Jenna’s death. Maybe someday he would, but not until the Lord made it obvious that it was time.

Chief came loping toward him, a ball in his massive jaws. He scratched the dog behind the ear then tossed the ball far into the yard. As the bullmastiff gave chase, Ryan’s phone rang.

The number was unfamiliar, but the area code was not. Vine Beach, Texas.

“Owen here,” he said by habit.

“Hi, Ryan, this is Leah. Leah Berry?”

The dog crossed the deck to deposit the ball at Ryan’s feet. Once again he threw it. “Leah, yes, hi.”

“Hi.”

Her pause let him hear the ocean in the background, a sound that made him smile. For all the reluctance he felt leaving Houston and the fire department, he certainly had no problem living at the beach. If only the circumstances were different. Then maybe...

“So, I gave your name to a friend of mine from church. His name is Riley Burkett. He’s a part-time Realtor and he may have a few rentals for you to check out.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“I’m glad I could help.” Again the waves crashed in the background, a stark contrast to the sound of traffic on Heights Boulevard and the persistent noise of a car alarm going off in the distance.

“Are you at the beach right now?”

“I am,” she said.

“Then I’m jealous.”

“You’ll be here soon enough.” She paused. “So, anyway, Riley knows you’re in a hurry to find a place. He said he would try to catch you tonight so maybe the two of you could go out looking tomorrow. I told him I’d let you know he would be calling.”

“Hey, that’s great. I owe you, Leah.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I could help.” Another pause, this time punctuated by the screech of a gull and what sounded like the meowing of a cat.

“Thanks. And I mean it. I owe you.” He took a deep breath and let it out swiftly.

“No need to owe me, Ryan. Really. I’m glad to help a friend.”

He hung up not knowing whether the friend she referred to was him or this fellow Burkett.

Chief now dropped the ball at Ryan’s feet. This time he ignored it to step inside, allowing the dog to follow. He’d kept out just enough in the way of kitchen utensils to scrape together a grilled-cheese-and-tomato-soup meal. And while it wasn’t bad, it certainly didn’t compare to the seafood feast he’d had for lunch.

Ryan looked down at Chief who waited discreetly for any scraps that might come his way. The company had been better at lunch, too.

He let his mind rest on Leah for just a moment. Although she’d been a little wary, or angry, or both, he couldn’t deny that she was...pretty.

Chief gave him a look as if he could read Ryan’s mind, then lay down at his feet. Ryan leaned over to scratch the dog behind his ear then tossed him the remains of the grilled cheese.

“She’s just a nice lady who offered to find a...” Ryan rose, shaking his head. It was the one-year anniversary of his wedding to a woman he’d barely been able to build a life with before he’d lost her. He was in no position to think of anyone as “pretty.”

He opened the back door and let Chief out, then stood in the twilight. The car alarm had ceased, and the road noise had quieted to allow the sounds of the night to rise. Snagging his Bible off the counter, he made his way to the swing and settled down under the porch light.

His reading this morning had come from Exodus, a passage detailing the tribe of Israel’s flight from Egypt by way of the less-traveled road. Ryan estimated he’d read that passage dozens of times, and never had he noticed that when the Lord finally allowed the tribe to make their escape, He did not take them through the most direct and obvious route.

Ryan opened his Bible to read the passage again. This time he had to wonder: Was God doing the same thing with him? Was Ryan following Him down the less-obvious route—one that led through Vine Beach, Texas—or was he merely allowing a deathbed promise to send him in the wrong direction?

Ryan went to bed that night turning the question over to the Lord and awakened without an answer. But at least he had a plan. And that was better than what he’d had for the past year.

The next afternoon, Ryan arrived at the address Riley Burkett had given him. Situated across from the City Hall building where Ryan would have an office starting Monday morning, Burkett Realty was on the ground floor of a century-old building that also housed a beauty salon and a clothing store. Both were decorated for fall despite the warm salt-tinged breeze and the complete lack of fall foliage on the trees surrounding the courthouse and adjoining Vine Beach Gazette building.

When Ryan stepped inside Burkett Realty, he was kept waiting only a minute before a woman who introduced herself as Riley’s wife, Susan, ushered him into a back office. Burkett was an older man with a head full of gray hair, a fact that surprised him given the enthusiasm he’d heard on the phone. With a pace much quicker than Ryan expected, they made short work of visiting the handful of rental properties available for long-term lease.

He settled on a one-room furnished cabin situated a few steps from the sand with an upstairs deck that ran the length of the house. The yard was small, something Chief wouldn’t much like, but it was fenced and that would have to do.

After returning to Riley’s office to sign the lease, all that remained was to head back to Houston for the few things he’d be bringing with him. The movers would deliver the rest of it to storage. Then there would be nothing left to remind the new tenants of the man who never managed to bring his new wife home to the house in the Heights.

“You’re all set,” Burkett said. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Actually there is,” Ryan said. “I’ll be looking for a church down here. Any recommendations?”

Burkett grinned. “Glad you asked, son. I can help you with that.” He wrote down the name and address of a church on the back of his business card then handed it to Ryan. “I head up a widowers group called Starting Over, and Susan and I mentor the newlyweds.”

Widowers group. Ryan glanced down at the card.

Riley Burkett, PhD, LPC

Certified Grief Counselor

“Wait. I thought you were a Realtor.”

“I am.” The older man looked down at the card he’d given Ryan. “Don’t know how that card got into the wrong place.” He gestured to a second cardholder. “I meant to give you one of those. Want to trade me?”

“No,” Ryan said slowly. “I think this is the one I’m supposed to have.”

“Really?” He gave Ryan an appraising look. “And why is that?”

“Long story.” He paused to weigh the lease in his hand. For a second he considered telling Riley about Jenna, but the words wouldn’t come out. “Thanks for your help.”

Riley looked at Ryan carefully. “Anytime, son. Anytime.”

As he shook Riley’s hand, Ryan wondered if he could talk to Riley, if he could find some relief from the guilt that seemed to follow him around and weigh him down like a boulder on his soul. After all, he couldn’t keep it to himself forever.

As he left the office, Leah stepped out of the beauty salon and right into his path. “Hey, stranger,” she said, her impossibly green eyes stopping him in his tracks.