TEXAS ROADS (A Miller's Creek Novel Book 1) (4 page)

Chapter Four

I
f she had to rate the effectiveness of her visit thus far on a scale of one to ten, she tipped the charts at minus twenty. Of all the dumb luck. Dani sank into the cushioned softness of her aunt’s overstuffed sofa, the smell of supper still permeating the air. How could she have possibly guessed the dirty cowboy who chauffeured her into town was her aunt’s friend?

Aunt Beth peeked through the open doorway into the living room, her youthful face aglow. “How ’bout some hot chocolate while we talk?”

“Sounds great. Anything I can do to help?”

Her aunt waved a hand. “Nah, made it earlier today, so I’ll just warm it up. You sit there and relax.” Aunt Beth’s shoes clicked against the hardwood floors in the kitchen.

Relax? Easy to say, but not so easy to do. She gnawed her bottom lip. Miller’s Creek might prove to be the escape—no, the home—she longed for. Away from memories. Away from the pain. Away from her mother. Had she already mucked it up by alienating Steve Miller?

Dani viewed the high ceilings, exquisite moldings, and antique furnishings. A place that felt like home, unlike the house she’d grown up in, a museum of a place used to impress and intimidate.

She rose from the sofa, made her way to an array of photographs displayed nearby, and picked up a barn wood frame. Steve’s handsome face grinned back. Her cheeks flamed at the memory of the ride into town. Judging by his demeanor at dinner, he had no intention of forgiving her for being so snarky on the trip. Not that she could blame him.

With his thick dark hair and eyes the color of cinnamon, he seemed a completely different person than the smelly man who brought her to Miller’s Creek. She returned the photograph to its place and repositioned herself on the couch. A thirty-something man friends with a fifty-something woman? Wasn’t that a little odd?

From the kitchen came the slam of a cabinet door and the rattle of dishes. A minute later her aunt entered, carrying a tray with a teapot and two steaming teacups.

“I love your house, Aunt Beth. It’s so warm and inviting.”

The older woman placed the tray on the coffee table and handed her a cup. “Thanks, sweetie, it’s home to me. One of the oldest houses in Miller’s Creek.”

Dani inspected the contents of her cup, taking a deep whiff of the creamy mixture. “Is this white chocolate?”

A smile carved her aunt's face. “Yep. My secret recipe.”

She shut her eyes as she sipped, savoring the warm rich liquid, her tangled nerves unwinding. “Mmm, this is delicious.”

“Thanks. Want to move outside and enjoy the beautiful evening? I think the storm has finally passed.” Aunt Beth picked up the tray and moved toward the door.

“Sure.” As they stepped onto the wraparound porch, a fragrant breeze caressed Dani’s skin. She inhaled deep and let out the breath in audible delight. “What’s that heavenly smell?”

“Honeysuckle.” Her aunt moved around the corner of the house. “You can smell it better over here.”

Aunt Beth sat the tray on a nearby table, and they both settled onto the cushioned porch swing in comfortable silence. The gentle rocking motion, in combination with the hot chocolate, scented air, and soft chirp of crickets, lulled Dani into a state of relaxation. She leaned her head back. This is what she wanted. What she needed. Home.

She lifted her head and took a sip of the chocolate mixture before turning to face the older woman. “I apologize if I offended Mr. Miller at dinner. He seemed...” What word should she use? Distant? Aloof? Downright icy?

Aunt Beth swatted the air. “Don’t worry about it. Steve’s pretty complex. The deep-thinker type. I’ve known him all his life, but I still don’t know what’s going on in that head of his most of the time.”

The deep-thinker type? Really? More like moody. Friendly one minute and sullen the next. Either way she had the distinct impression he disliked her. A question rotated in her mind, and she searched for the best way to ask it. “You two seem very close.”

A tender expression softened her aunt’s features. “His parents brought him and his sister to the daycare where I worked, and we saw each other at church. When he got older, he rode his bike to town for my homemade cookies. He’s like a son.”

A picture of a young Steve formed in her mind, and piercing envy stabbed deep. She could almost see him, sitting in Aunt Beth’s kitchen, devouring fresh-from-the-oven cookies. The
Leave It to Beaver
life she’d dreamed of every day of her existence.

Her aunt’s cup dinged against the saucer. “I haven’t had a chance to ask how everyone’s doing.”

She shifted uncomfortably. The moment she’d dreaded. Crossing an arm over her waist, she clutched the opposite elbow, her dangling foot twitching. “The past couple of years have been a little crazy.”

Aunt Beth slurped a sip, smacked her lips, and rested the cup and saucer on her lap. “What do you mean?”

Dani studied her aunt. She seemed almost oblivious. Surely her mother . . . well, maybe not.  “You knew Father died?”

Her aunt’s eyes registered shock, and she brought a fluttering hand to her chest. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I thought Mother would have told you.”

“No.” The word came out in an agonized whisper.

Why hadn’t her mother called? The two sisters might not be close, but a death in the family deserved at least a mention.

Aunt Beth’s wise eyes probed her own. “It’s a long story, Dani. One I’m not prepared to share. But I want you to know I’ve tried.”

Dani gave a brief nod and peered out into the darkness. “I know. I gave up on trying to understand Mother a long time ago.” And gave up on trying to earn her love.

A breeze stirred the leaves of the large red oak tree that anchored the corner of the porch, and the full moon shining behind the remaining clouds turned them a silvery white. “Your father was a wonderful man. If I‘d known, I would’ve been there.” Her aunt’s lips pressed together in a sad smile. “Were you close to him?”

She shrugged. “At one time, I guess. He wanted me to take over his business, but I wanted to teach.”

“Sounds painful.”

“It was. Things were never the same between us after that.” An ancient wound that would never heal, the hurt of his betrayal as raw as the day it happened. She searched the sky. The moon tried desperately to penetrate the clouds. How could a father completely cut off his own child just because her plan didn’t match his own?

“But you enjoy teaching?”

“Very much.”

Aunt Beth’s face lit from within. “That’s why I run a daycare. I love being around the kids.”

Dani turned her head to hide the rush of tears that sprung to her eyes. Finally someone who understood, someone who got who she was.

“How’d Cecille take Daniel’s death?”

Almost as if nothing had happened.
“Better than expected.” Her social schedule barely interrupted and on a cruise with her friends less than a month later. She rubbed the nubby fabric of her housecoat as a horse whinnied in the darkness.

“And your husband? How is he?”

A wave of hurt broke against her heart. Why was it still so difficult to speak the words? She met her aunt’s gaze. “Richard was killed in a car accident a year ago.”

Aunt Beth’s face turned deathly white, more pale than the gray curls framing her face. “Oh, you poor child! I had no idea.” Her voice thick with emotion, she scooted closer and embraced her.

A thousand needles pricked her eyes. What was wrong with her? She teared up at kind words, but felt only contempt for her dead husband? Would she ever be able to forgive him and move on?

Her aunt pulled away. The compassion in her eyes prodded Dani forward, but the words dammed up in her throat as the numbness returned. If only she could cry and grieve like other women who’d lost their husband.

The older woman searched her face. “There’s more?”

Dani stared into the almost empty cup. How could she explain? “Let’s just say my marriage wasn’t a happy one.”

Aunt Beth didn’t speak, but a knowing look washed over her face.

What was she doing? Dani uncrossed her legs and looked away. She’d come to Miller’s Creek to establish a relationship with her aunt, not scare her away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burden you with my problems.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Have you talked about this with anyone?”

Talk about it? She chewed the inside of her cheek. This wasn’t something you shared with colleagues in the teacher’s lounge. Too embarrassing. Too painful.

Aunt Beth grabbed her hand. “Please let me help.”

Fear chained the words inside. Not yet. It was too soon. She was tired of being hurt, tired of trusting only to be betrayed. “Maybe some other time.” Dani drained the rest of the creamy liquid then forced a smile. “Did I tell you I’m thinking about leaving Dallas? Starting over?”

Her aunt’s features clouded. “I understand about wanting to start over, but make sure you’re not running away. Problems have a way of following you wherever you go.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

“I do. Pray about it first.”

She set her cup on the wicker table and released a half-laugh. “Prayer doesn’t seem to help me much.”

“What makes you say that?”

A bitter taste uncoiled in her mouth. “My prayers seem to go unnoticed.”

“That’s not true.” Her aunt’s sharpened words sliced the air.

“Then you must have more faith than I do.” Not that it would take a lot.

Aunt Beth’s eyebrows wrinkled in the center. “You don’t believe in God?”

“I believe there is a God. I’m just not sure he cares about me. All I ever wanted was a home and family, but…” Her throat clogged with a salty lump of tears.

Sorrow-filled pain flared in her aunt’s eyes. “I know what you’re feeling, Dani. Trust me, I’ve been there. Life’s confusing and hard, but running away from God only makes it worse. He’ll help you through this if you let Him.”

“I wish I could believe it.” She blinked against a rush of emotion.

“Do you blame God for what’s happened?”

Would her aunt understand? Would God? “I guess in some ways I do. If He’s God, then why doesn’t He bring a stop to evil in the world?”

“There’s not an easy answer to that question.” The older woman pursed her lips and leaned forward to refill Dani’s empty cup with the cream-colored liquid. “Not that it’s any consolation, but people have been asking the same question for thousands of years.”

Dani waited for her to elaborate.

Her aunt didn’t let her down. “Ever heard of Job?”

She rotated toward her aunt and pulled one knee close to her chest, relieved the conversation had moved in a different direction. “The guy with all the patience?”

Aunt Beth’s hearty laughter rang out in the still night. “You mean all the impatience.” She silenced momentarily, a chorus of crickets filling in. “Oh, I guess he was patient in that he endured the horrible things God allowed in his life.”

“Like what?”

“He lost his children and livestock, his wealth. He was even covered from head to toe with painful sores.”

A shudder crept down her spine. “See? That’s my point. If God loves us so much, why would He allow that to happen?”

“He had confidence in Job.”

“I hope He never gets confidence in me.” She muttered the words and bent down to retrieve the cup of hot chocolate as a giggle erupted from her aunt.

“At least the story ends on a happy note. God healed Job and restored his fortune.”

Dani shook her head. “Still don’t buy it.”

“Why not?”

“Because the story doesn’t explain why God allowed it to happen in the first place. Does He enjoy watching me suffer?”

“We’ve all suffered, Dani. You’re not the only one.” The words were soft, but firm. “Maybe this will help explain it. What would the world be like if everything was wonderful all the time? No bad weather, no sad events, no ugliness or pain. No sorrow.”

Well, that was a no-brainer. “Perfect.”

“Oh, really? You know any perfect people?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “No.” What was Aunt Beth after?

“Exactly my point.” Her aunt leaned closer. “Even if things were perfect, we’d mess it up because we’re not. That’s what happened at the beginning of time. Everything God made was good. Man’s the one who messed it up, and we’ve been blaming God for it ever since.”

A rounded edge of moon peeked above the wispy clouds. She sensed the wisdom in her aunt’s words. “But why can’t bad things just happen to bad people?”

“You ever watch a butterfly hatch?”

“Of course. We watch them hatch in science class every year.” The memory of her students’ fascination with the process brought a smile to Dani’s face.

“You know what would happen if you cut open the cocoon so the butterfly didn’t have to struggle so hard to get free?”

“It would never be strong enough to fly.”

“Exactly.” Her aunt looked skyward and Dani followed her gaze, the moon now completely clear of clouds. Aunt Beth rocked the swing, drawing her attention. “Victory and growth don’t come through an easy life, but from struggle.”