A Bridge Unbroken (A Miller's Creek Novel) (7 page)

“Whatever. The only plumb I’m interested in at the moment is the barn walls, thank you. Now, before we get to work, would you mind getting this splinter out of my hand?”

Chance made a face as he examined the wound. “Man, that thing is in there deep. I can get it out, but it’s gonna hurt.” He stooped and shuffled through his black bag of tricks.

“Whatever it takes.”

“Okay, but I want you to thank me now, ‘cause you won’t be thankful afterwards.” His lips curved into a Howdy Doody grin. “I’m waiting.”

“Thank you.” She mumbled the words reluctantly.

“What? I can’t hear you.” He sing-songed the last four words as he bent over her hand with a pair of tweezers and some sort of digging tool.

“Thank you!” She bellowed the words as loud as possible.

He grimaced and yanked on his left ear lobe. “Thanks for making my ears bleed.”

“You’re very wel-- Ow!”

Chance held up the removed splinter, the Howdy Doody grin back on his face, a grin her right palm itched to remove. That is, if it didn’t already hurt so much.

His cell phone buzzed. He frowned as he read the screen, then punched a few buttons and put the device to his ear. “Hey, Chels. What’s up?” The color drained from his face as he took off at a lope toward his pickup. “Be right there.”

Fear raked her insides. J.C.? Dakota chased after him. “What is it?”

Chance didn't slow his pace or turn to face her, but headed for the driver's side door. “Grampa isn’t doing well. I gotta get to the hospital.”

Her mind swirling with concern and prayer, Dakota sped to the passenger side and crawled in just as he started the engine and put the truck in gear. “I’m coming, too.”

* * *

“Hold on.” Deathly claws raked at his heart, and a metallic taste coated his tongue. Hurry, hurry, the word pounded against his skull. Every muscle in his body coiled for action, Chance whipped the steering wheel around and floored the gas pedal. The truck bounced down the road, spewing dust into the downed windows.

Dakota coughed and gripped the arm rest with one bandaged hand while she attempted to buckle her seatbelt with the other. Her face, chalk white, made her green eyes stand out more than usual.

He focused his attention back on the task at hand. The speedometer climbed. Forty. Fifty. Were they already too late?
No!
He couldn’t go there. Not yet. They just had to get there in time. In time to tell Grampa at least one more time how much he loved him.

“The next curve is pretty sharp, and there’s lots of loose gravel.” Dakota yelled the words over the road and engine noise.

Chance slowed his speed to make the curve.

“It’s pretty much a straight shot from here to the farm-to-market road, so you can go as fast as you want.” Dakota reached across her body to grip the arm rest with both hands.

The pavement approached, but Chance slowed only enough to insure there was no oncoming traffic and to make the turn.

“Another straight shot until you get to the right-angle turn at the edge of to—”

“I know, Dakota.” He ground the words out between clenched teeth and stomped his foot to the floor. The speedometer needle moved to sixty, then seventy. It wasn't like he hadn't been down this road a million times, and she, of all people, should know it.

She stared straight ahead, her lips pinched between her teeth, still gripping the armrest as though her life depended on it.

A siren sounded, and red and blue lights flashed from the top of the black and white car in the rearview mirror. “I’m not stopping.”

Surprisingly, Dakota didn’t argue. Instead she nervously worked her mouth as though chewing the inside of her jaw.

The police car flashed its headlights and pulled closer. Chance released an exasperated sigh and yanked his foot from the accelerator. No need in killing them all. He carefully steered the truck to the grass at the side of the road.

“What're you doing?” Now her eyes held--what? Fear?

“I have to stop, Dakota. I think it’s Ernie. He’ll understand.” Chance stopped the truck abruptly, threw the gearshift into park, and yanked open the door just as Ernie approached. “Hey, Ernie. Just got a call from the hospital. Grampa has taken a turn for the worse. I need to get there as soon as possible.”

The town cop with the thick graying moustache nodded and sprinted back to his car. “I’ll lead the way.”

Chance had barely put the truck in gear when Ernie passed, sirens blaring. He tore out behind the policeman and both pulled up outside the hospital a few minutes later. The two men entered the hospital together, Dakota just a few steps behind, and hurried toward Grampa’s room.

As they reached the door, Jeremy Gains exited. Chance made a move to go around his boss, but the man latched on with both arms, then peered past him at Ernie and Dakota. “Sorry, but there’s not room for you in there right now. The doctors and nurses are working to resuscitate him. You’ll have to stay in the waiting area for now.”

Chance shot the man a withering glance to let him know exactly how he felt. But beside him, Ernie and Dakota both grabbed hold of his elbows.

“C’mon, Chance, it'll be okay.” Dakota’s voice was low and soothing.

Chance yanked his arms from their grasp and stalked off down the narrow hallway, both hands on his head. This couldn't be happening. Not yet.

Once in the waiting room, Dakota faced him. “We need to pray.”

Numb from shock, both from the scenario playing out down the hall and from her request to pray, Chance could only nod. Yes, prayer. That would help.

She took both his hands in her own. “Father, we lift J.C. up to you. Preserve his life, so Chance can talk to his Grampa again. Give the doctors and nurses special skill and wisdom. Surround Chance with Your peace and comfort. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

He inhaled a deep breath, his rapid pulse immediately slowing. He smiled his thanks as Ernie’s eagle-eyed gaze honed in on Dakota. “Pardon me for staring, ma’am, but you look mighty familiar.”

Gains appeared from around the corner. “Chance, you can go in now. You won’t have long.”

Heart heavy, Chance nodded and held out a hand to Dakota.
God, give us strength.
Together they hurried down the corridor and into the room devoid of noise except for the erratic beep of the heart monitor.

Grampa lay in the hospital bed, small and frail, his skin a pasty white. His eyes fluttered open as they approached, and he smiled wanly. “So glad to see the two of you together.” He weakly lifted a hand and placed it on theirs. “Thank You, Lord.” Grampa's hand rested on theirs a moment longer, his eyes shut. Praying, but for what?

“Grampa.” Tears flowed, unstoppable, the words seeping through his brain woefully inadequate. “I want you to know how much I love you. How much I appreciate all you've done for me.” Chance used his shirt sleeve to wipe away the blur in front of his eyes. “I only hope I can be half the man you are.”

Love shone from his grandfather's eyes. “I love you, too, Chance.” He moved his gaze to Dakota. “And you, too, Amy.”

Tears spilled from her eyes and down her pale cheeks. “And I love you, J.C.”

Grampa nodded weakly, and once more closed his eyes. They fluttered back open. “About the farm…” His words drifted away, his gaze trained on some distant spot on the ceiling. A radiant smile erupted on his face, and then he was gone.

The stabbing pain in his chest knocked Chance to his knees as a groan erupted from somewhere deep inside. Now he had no one left. In a split second Dakota was on her knees beside him, taking him in her arms.

All he could do was cling to her and cry, her tears mingling with his.

Chapter Six

A
throbbing ache squeezed Dakota's heart as she took one last look out her old bedroom window at the place which had always been so special to her. The one place that felt safer than all others. Could her heart survive leaving the farm again? She made her way out of the room and descended the stairs. There should be just enough time for a quick trip to the old bridge she and Chance had helped Pawpaw build. She released a heavy breath. Then it would be time to drive to Miller’s Creek for the meeting at Tyler and Tyler Law Firm. Already her meager belongings were packed in her backpack and loaded in the pickup. Just in case.

Why Andy even wanted her there for the reading of the will was beyond her ability to comprehend. J.C. had been hospitalized shortly after her conversation with him about the farm, leaving no time for him to make necessary changes. Besides, there was no chance he’d choose her over his own grandson anyway. Perhaps he’d left her some little trinket, some memento to remember him by. As if she needed a trinket to remember J.C. Never would she forget him and his kindness toward her.

Dakota exited the farmhouse and headed through the overgrown pasture toward the old bridge. Of all places, it held the ability to resurrect painful memories and was the one place she'd not yet allowed herself to visit. As she approached, she could almost hear laughter ringing, could almost see a younger and blond-headed version of herself running from Chance in an impromptu game of tag, could almost hear Pawpaw’s forced gruffness as he told them to quit horsing around and get busy.

The cool autumn breeze caressed her cheek and whispered through the tall browning grass. Dakota halted and closed her eyes, willing the happy memories to continue. It had been so long since she’d felt such joy and peace, and now it was all about to come to an abrupt end.

Profound sorrow trickled through every ounce of her being as she opened her eyes and resumed her walk. It was for the best that things were turning out the way they were, a fact she’d known since Chance had held her close and mourned his grandfather’s passing. Living in such close proximity to him would never work. It would always be a temptation to let her heart go where she’d sworn to never go again. And worse yet, there was always the chance she would inadvertently reference her life’s greatest heartache, one for which Chance would never forgive her. One she couldn’t even forgive herself.

The old bridge came into full view. The structure had held up better than expected, though nails, rusty with age, had popped their heads up from the surface of the worn and weathered boards. A sudden desire, swift and unrelenting, washed over her, and she brought a hand to her cheek at the recognition. Part of her had hoped and dreamed of repairing the bridge once more. And an even deeper part of her had wished for Chance to help, as though the bridge had somehow become a metaphor for their fractured relationship. Was she falling in love with him again after such a short time? Or had she ever truly stopped loving him?

An exasperated groan escaped as she stared at the cloudy sky. Hopefully her current confusion was all bound up in her heartache over losing J.C. A lone tear inched down her cheek. She closed her eyes and sent more tears cascading down her face, too world-weary to even wipe them away.

When she opened her eyes a few minutes later, she’d at last reached that familiar place of numbness, where nothing mattered. Least of all herself.

Time to face the inevitable. Dakota retraced her steps to the farmhouse, climbed in her a pickup, and made the familiar trek to Miller's Creek. Fifteen minutes later, she arrived at the posh Tyler & Tyler Law Firm and headed indoors.

Every limb heavy, she approached the receptionist's desk. "Hi. I'm Dakota Kelly. I'm supposed to meet with Andy Tyler."

The woman nodded. “Let me tell them you’re here.”

Dakota waited while the receptionist punched a button on the fancy phone system.

“Yes?” Andy Tyler’s familiar voice sounded through the speaker.

“Miss Kelly has arrived.”

“Okay. I’ll be right there.”

Dakota stepped away from the counter and prayed silently.
Lord, help me get through this graciously, no matter the outcome.

A second later Andy stuck his head through the swinging door which separated the waiting area from the private offices. “Hey, Dakota, come on back. Chance is already here.”

Her heart somersaulted at the mention of his name. She'd kept her distance since J.C.'s passing, not just to give him grieving time, but to protect her shredded heart from further damage. Dakota followed Andy and his immaculate black suit to a well-decorated conference room where Chance sat talking to a beautiful Hispanic woman.

Andy held out a hand toward the petite woman dressed in stylish business clothes. “Dakota, I’d like you to meet my sister-in-law and partner, Grace Tyler.”

The woman stood with great effort and stretched a hand toward Dakota, a kind smile on her face. “Hi, Dakota. Nice to meet you.”

Dakota smiled back. “You, too.” She cast an anxious glance at Andy and approached the long table, unsure of proper protocol. It was all she could to avoid Chance’s direct gaze, which burned a hole in the right side of her head.

“Please have a seat.” Andy plopped to a leather chair and opened an extra-thick blue file folder. He looked up, alternating his gaze between her and Chance as he spoke. “Let me once more express my condolences. J.C. meant a lot to this town and to me personally. I know he also meant a great deal to both of you.”