Somewhere Along the Way (26 page)

“I didn’t hear the alarm.” Gabe was fully awake and reaching for his rifle.

“I shut it off. I don’t know who this guy is, but if he’s a killer, he’s got to be the dumbest one alive. When he saw me at the door, he waved. Looks to me like he’s just more company.”

Gabe moved to the door with Denver following in his wake. “I don’t have company.” He glanced at Denver. “You’re like the first roach. If I’d stepped on you, no more would have followed.” He’d managed to live here for four years without anyone dropping in, and now they were wearing out the road.

Denver laughed. His skin was far too tough to suffer the ping of words. “Maybe the whole world got together and figured you were already dead. They’re just sending the undertaker before the stink gets too bad.”

Gabe didn’t laugh. He felt more dead than alive most days. Until he met Elizabeth, he’d feared he might disappear and no one would notice.

He propped his rifle by the front door and stepped out onto the porch as Tyler Wright pulled up. Denver, despite his jokes, stayed behind, fully armed and ready.

“Morning, Mr. Wright. You lost?”

Tyler Wright climbed out of the long black hearse and walked up to the porch. “No, I’m on my way to Tulsa to pick up someone.”

He didn’t need to tell Gabe the someone came boxed.

“I just stopped by because Jeremiah Truman called me and said he wants to give his niece Reagan a party Sunday night. Said she’s already started inviting. Wanted to include you since you were the one who saved her life, but didn’t know how to get in touch with you.”

“So you’re delivering the message.” Gabe tried to smile. Mr. Wright had taken care of pretty much everything when his father died, including bringing along a wheelchair so Gabe could attend the graveside. They could have skipped the service—Gabe, Wright, and Old Man Truman were the only ones watching the casket being lowered into the ground—but Gabe still appreciated the effort.

“I don’t ...”

“It’s going to be a real sit-down dinner. First one I ever heard of at the Truman place. Seems Reagan is not only happy to be alive, thanks to you, but she’s turned eighteen and you know that’s a big birthday.”

“I can’t . . .” Gabe began to shake his head. “I can’t go.”

Denver stepped out to help. “He’d love to come, Mr. Wright, but as you see, he’s got company.” Denver offered his hand. “I’m Denver Sims, an old army buddy of Gabe’s. I’m sure you’ve heard him talk about me.”

“No.” Wright grinned. “But, to tell the truth, I’ve rarely heard Gabe talk at all.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Truman. I don’t think he’d mind one more guest.”

Denver had the nerve to wink at Gabe while Tyler dialed. “While you’re asking, suggest that he should invite Liz Matheson since she’s Gabe’s lawyer, and so she doesn’t have to come alone, maybe her sister could come too.”

Wright turned away toward his car when he said hello as if worried that the uninvited guest might invite more uninvited guests.

Gabe elbowed Denver hard in the chest. “I don’t want to go,” he whispered.

“It’s food,” Denver whispered back. “Real food. You know, that strange stuff you never seem to eat. All you’ve got in your cabinets are cereal boxes and cans.”

“No.” He’d survived the meal at Elizabeth’s house because she was next to him and Denver drew most of the attention. “I can’t go.”

“Don’t worry,” Denver teased. “I’ll teach you to eat with a fork before Sunday.”

“No. I’m not going. What if trouble comes?”

“If it comes, it’ll find us wherever we are. My guess is whoever shot Pirate doesn’t want any witnesses around. We’re probably safe at Truman’s. Maybe I should suggest the old man invite the sheriff and her boyfriend. I kind of liked talking to them.”

“Why don’t you just plan the whole damn party?” Gabe said between clenched teeth.

“I wouldn’t mind. Does this old guy have money for steaks?”

Wright walked back from his car. “I couldn’t get Truman, but I got Reagan. She was all excited at the idea of having more guests. Laughed and said to tell everyone to bring presents.”

Gabe was too shocked at the idea of going to an eighteen-year-old’s birthday party to answer. He’d never attended any party, or had one.

Tyler Wright waved and climbed back into his car.

Gabe looked at Denver, smiling like some kind of rabid wolf. “I didn’t want to go,” he started, “and now I have to bring a gift. I have no idea what to give a girl that age.”

Denver frowned but seemed to go with his first guess. “Ammo?”

Gabe swung, but Denver was too fast for him.

FEBRUARY 15, 2008
WRIGHT FUNERAL HOME

Drove the back roads to Tulsa this morning. Thought of you. Thinking you might join me one night for a glass of wine again.

TYLER STARED AT THE SCREEN AND THE WORDS HE’D JUST written. He sounded pitiful. Maybe writing Kate had become a habit. Maybe that’s all it was. They’d met once—no, twice. The first time they’d shared dinner at a lonely lodge in Oklahoma. The second time she’d seen him at his worst. In between they’d sent e-mails. Not even romantic notes, just funny little things, things people pass the time talking about.

But once, he remembered in the time between their meetings, she’d called him
dear one
, like he was someone who mattered to her.

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I’m going to Reagan Truman’s birthday party Sunday. Do you remember her? She’s the girl who fought so hard two years ago to save her uncle’s farm from fire. It was in the paper. She’s turning eighteen. Wish I had an idea what to buy her. Any suggestions?

Her uncle came by to make sure all the arrangements are made for his funeral. He’s a hard old guy, but he loves her dearly. I’ve seen it before. He knows his time is close. I’ll walk him through all I can, then I’ll stand next to her and see she gets through the rest.

I’ve always felt I was helping people, but sometimes I wish it would get easier.

Good night, Kate.

Ty

Tyler read it through before he clicked Send. Tonight’s note had been depressing. He’d been in a down mood for days. Maybe it was the weather: cold, windy, threats of snow. Maybe it was watching Mrs. Biggs at the cemetery grieving for a family she’d lost years ago.

He glanced at the flyer he’d picked up at the bookstore. Saturday morning palm reading and coffee.

Why not? He turned off the screen. With no funerals in sight, going to the bookstore tomorrow was as good a way to waste time as any. He went to bed thinking, if he could know one thing about his future, what would it be? After two hours worrying about it, he took a sleeping pill and decided there was nothing he’d want to know ahead of time. If it was something good, it would spoil the surprise. If it was something bad, it would haunt his future.

The next morning he dressed and arrived at exactly nine o’clock thinking there might be a crowd. His was the only car except for the bookstore owner’s, which was always in the same spot. So much for a crowd.

He waited in his car with the window down until he saw Martha Q pull up and climb out carrying what looked and smelled like apple turnovers.

Tyler got out to help her with her load, thinking that turnovers would go perfect with coffee and palm reading.

“Morning, Mr. Wright. You come for the palm reading?”

“It sounded interesting. Do you believe in such things?”

“I certainly do. When I was young, a palm reader took one look at my hand and told me I’d meet a handsome man and fall madly in love. It’s happened several times.”

Tyler smiled. “Maybe there’s a stutter in your lifeline.”

Martha Q laughed. “You better watch your heart, Mr. Wright, or I may decide you’re the next in line.”

He knew she was kidding, or at least he hoped she was.

Inside, the bookstore owner, George Hatcher, had set up a circle of eight chairs. He appeared to be expecting a crowd. Tyler recognized Dallas Logan and her daughter Ronelle. They were a pair. Dallas never stopped talking and Ronelle never said a word. Martha Q might have been hated in town years ago for all the wild things she did, but Dallas was generally hated for no particular reason and that seemed far worse. Tyler remembered something his grandfather used to say and thought it would apply to Dallas Logan. She’d complain even if she was hanged with a new rope.

He nodded at both women as he took his seat as far away from them as possible.

A girl from the bank named Mary also came in and sat down. Tyler wouldn’t have remembered her name, only she had her nametag pinned to her sweater. She looked nervous, and he almost told her that as far as he knew palm readings were not painful.

Bob McNabb was already in the store looking at the books in the fishing section, but when he heard there was free coffee, he took a seat too and helped himself to a turnover. Bob’s wife was probably at the funeral home working. They were one of the nicest couples in town. Still married after more than forty years.

They all waited.

George went to the windows and turned the sign from CLOSED to OPEN. From his frown everyone knew there was no fortune-teller in sight. Tyler and Bob helped themselves to more coffee while Dallas lectured her grown daughter on not biting her nails. Martha Q told the girl from the bank that her shoes were “to die for,” and they began talking about nothing, as women who are complete strangers sometimes do.

About the time Tyler was getting uncomfortable, Bob McNabb leaned over and said. “I like your shoes. Where’d you get them?”

They both burst out laughing, making all the women look at them as if insanity had invaded the bookstore.

A half hour later, the group broke up and wandered out depressed.

On the way back to the funeral home, Tyler smiled. Tonight he’d have something funny to tell Kate. The others in the circle might not see it, but Tyler saw humor in wasting even a small part of your life trying to see your future.

He might even tell her about the laugh he and Bob had over shoes.

SUNDAY, 3:00 P.M.
FEBRUARY 17, 2008
TRUMAN FARM

REAGAN WATCHED FROM HER BED IN THE SUNNY FRONT parlor as three women dusted and polished everything in the house. She knew her uncle had left because he couldn’t stand the thought of them touching his stuff, and in truth she felt the same way. The nurse he’d hired insisted he call in help to clean because she feared Reagan would be hobbling around on her crutches trying to get ready for her own party.

Reagan would have too. What had started as an invitation for Brandon to come over had quickly grown to a full party. She guessed if Jeremiah was going to allow one person in for dinner, he thought he might as well invite everyone.

If she could have, she would have felt his forehead for he was certainly acting strange. He’d ordered barbecue to be delivered an hour before the party and asked them to bring along the bakery cake decorated with rainbow icing.

Just before he’d left, he’d ordered her to stay in bed. It was too soon, he claimed, for her to be doing anything but the necessities.

Reagan was about to explode with excitement. She’d invited Brandon and Noah first, then decided she should invite Gabe Leary for saving her life and his lawyer for helping him get out of jail. Then there was Leary’s houseguest and Elizabeth’s sister who had to come along. Reagan didn’t want to leave anyone out so she invited Noah’s sister, the sheriff, and Hank because he was her fiancé and Tyler because he was everyone’s friend. Uncle Jeremiah said they might as well invite all the Mathesons if three were already coming as well as all the McAllens. So Noah’s parents were called, as was Hank’s mother, who was told to bring her two aunts who lived with them and little Saralynn.

Fifteen people were coming to dinner. The only salvation seemed to be to take the furniture out of the country kitchen and set up plywood on sawhorses to make a long table that ran from the kitchen counter to the far end, where a TV had been. Reagan knew her uncle would never be able to handle the details, but her nurse turned into a fairy godmother, calling friends to bring over a long tablecloth from the Methodist church and the community china a Bible study class had bought fifty years ago.