TEXAS ROADS (A Miller's Creek Novel Book 1) (5 page)

The words still rang in Dani’s mind later that night as she crawled into bed, the crickets crooning their nighttime lullaby. What a day. She pulled the soft cotton sheet to her chin and snuggled into the feather pillow that smelled of fresh air and sunshine. Aunt Beth was right. Trouble did follow you wherever you went. The trip to Miller’s Creek proved it. But maybe God had a reason for everything. If things hadn’t fallen apart, she’d probably never have made the trip to Miller’s Creek and wouldn’t have met her aunt or J. C. or Steve. What if God had a bigger plan than she was aware of?

Steve’s angry distance at dinner made its way into her thoughts, and her heart sank. She had to apologize. Whatever it took, she needed to make it right between them for Aunt Beth’s sake. Besides that, she needed to start things off right between her and the people of the town. After all, they might be her new friends and neighbors.

Overwhelming joy billowed in her heart at the thought. All these years of longing for home. Had she finally found it in the back roads town of Miller’s Creek? Already she felt an unexpected bond with her aunt, a connection she couldn’t explain, family.

A soft patch of moonlight filtered through the window and laid a silvery blue streak across the chenille bedspread. Would a move to Miller’s Creek work out? Dani flopped to her other side, folded an arm beneath her head, and pushed the question from her mind. She’d make it work. Any lifeline, even in small-town Texas, allowed her the one thing she’d been missing.

Hope.

Chapter Five

S
teve smiled down at her, in that sweet place between slumber and awakening. Even after all these years, she still beguiled and enchanted him. Breathing in her light fragrance, he closed his eyes and reveled in the serene moment of bliss, his heart burgeoning with gratitude. No doubt about it—he was head over heels in love with his hometown!

Miller’s Creek, named for the little river meandering through the heart of town, lay before him like a sleeping princess in the rosy glow of a new day. A sense of wonder arose in him as it often did when he viewed his hometown. From the perspective of the rocky bluff where he stood, the land looked like a giant patchwork quilt. Outside the town, squares of green showed where the wheat, coastal hay, and peas were planted, while rich chocolate brown dirt revealed the future location of soon-to-sprout peanuts, cotton, and maize. Barbed-wire fences with rough cedar posts provided the quilt’s stitching.

The crisp nip to the morning air issued a warning that cold weather could still kill off the chance for fresh plums and peaches, and the homemade jams and jellies which always made their way into his pantry. Sorrow descended as he searched out the town square, bordered by the creek on one side and Main Street on the other. Except for City Hall, a couple of businesses, the church, post office, and firehouse, Miller’s Creek had become a ghost town.

Not for much longer. Not if he could help it.

He squinted against the rising sun and surveyed the rolling hills and pasture land, his memory taking him back in time. In some ways, his childhood seemed liked yesterday. A time when Ledbetter’s Furniture, Watson’s Drugstore, and the Piggly Wiggly grocery store thrived in downtown Miller’s Creek. Saturday afternoons had been spent at the picture show with Lauren and Clay, followed by a trip to Watson’s for the best root beer float in the county.

Could the town be brought back to life or was it too late? Steve shifted his weight to his left leg and tugged the brim of his cowboy hat to bring it lower on his head. Times had changed. The train came through town back then, and brought all-important commerce with it. Even though the tracks and old depot building still remained, the cry of the train whistle and the bustle of business was nothing but a distant memory. The town’s buildings now stood in disrepair, a daily reminder of what used to be.

His jaw tightened. He’d find a way to turn things around or die trying. Not just for the town or himself, but for the people. They clung by a wispy thin thread to a place which could no longer sustain them.
God, help me. I know You can make a way.

He turned and strode to his truck, forcing his mind from the town’s dilemma. Should he make his usual stop at Mama Beth’s? The last thing he wanted was another run in with Dani, but he’d at least drop in to say “howdy” and grab a cup of coffee.

A few minutes later Steve arrived at Mama Beth’s house, the fragrance of her flower garden hitting him as soon as he opened the pickup door. Perched in her usual spot on the front porch, she smiled when he approached, but the smile on her face did nothing to conceal the sadness in her eyes.

He frowned and leaned over to kiss her gray curls. “Morning. How we doing?”

“You’re handsome as ever, but I’m getting older by the minute.” A wry expression flattened her lips.

“Aren’t we all?” As if he needed another reminder he was aging. He folded himself into the other rocker and stretched his legs out in front of him, his boots resting near the white porch railing.

“Isn’t today your big meeting?”

“Yep.” Conversation about the meeting with Brighton could wait. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

The dark circles under her eyes told him otherwise.

“Would you quit worrying about me?” Her sideways scowl rebuked him. “You look a little tired yourself, you know. By the way, why were you so cranky last night? Even Dani noticed.”

He lowered his head and chuckled. Leave it to Mama Beth to call him out on his bad behavior. “Where do you want me to start?”

“The beginning’s usually a good place.” The droll words rolled out in a monotone.

“Okay. First of all, I was starving to death. Second, I’d already had a bad experience with your niece. Third, I didn’t expect to see her in your kitchen.”

“And that put you in a foul mood?”

Steve rested his elbows on his knees before looking over at her. She wouldn’t let him get by with anything. “And I was jealous, okay? I know I shouldn’t have been, but I’m not used to sharing you with anyone else.”

“So in other words, you were acting like a spoiled child.”

He lifted one corner of his mouth in a wry grin. She’d never been one to mince words. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Sorry. I’ll try to do better.”

A smile erupted on her face. “You know I love you.”

Rising from the chair, he nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’m going in to get some coffee. Want some?”

“Good gracious, no. Already had enough to keep me awake ’til Christmas. Be quiet going in. Dani’s still asleep.”

The reminder of her niece brought him to a hurried halt. Maybe he should forget the coffee. With a second thought he shook his head. So what if he woke her up? Her problem, not his. He needed another cup.

The screen door squeaked when he let himself in the house, and he purposely let it slam. The smell of coffee greeted him as he entered the door. Nine o’clock in the morning and the woman was still asleep, obviously accustomed to a life of luxury and self-indulgence.

Back on the porch, he voiced his thoughts. “I’m surprised your niece is still sleeping.” He couldn’t stop the accusation that crept into his tone.

“Her name’s Dani and I’d thank you to remember it.”

He raised his eyebrows and let out a soft whistle.

“She’s had a rough few months, and yesterday’s ordeal wore her out.” A troubled look darkened Mama Beth’s blue eyes. “The part she told me was bad enough, but there’s more she’s not telling. On top of that, she blames God.”

She twisted her head away from him, but not before he caught the emotion inscribed on her face.

Guilt?

Steve chewed on the information while the squeak of the rocking chairs filled the silence between them. How could he voice his doubts without offending her? Easy answer. He couldn’t. “How long is she planning on staying?”

She hoisted her shoulders. “A few days. It’s her Spring Break.”

“Surely she’s not going to stay the entire week?” Her glare sent him stumbling for an explanation. “I mean, there won’t be much around here for a city woman to do.”

“City woman?” The warning look she hurled his way made contact.

“Sorry. I meant not much for
Dani
to do.” Steve sipped the rich black coffee. Touchy subject.

“She needs rest more than anything, but I told her I’d show her around town later today.”

Why the interest in a country town that had all but dried up? Steve rubbed his chin. Would Dani know someone who could help him find investors? He summarily dismissed the thought. She was just a school teacher. “Why didn’t you ever mention her?”

Mama Beth didn’t look at him, but rolled her lips between her teeth before speaking, a pained expression creeping across her face. “No reason. Nothing I can explain anyway. Suffice it to say, there hasn’t been a day in her life I haven’t thought about her and prayed for her. I’m glad she finally came for a visit. I just hope it’s not too late.”

“Too late? Too late for what?” He studied her clamped jaw and changed direction with his questions. “You could’ve told me she was coming.”

“I was afraid she’d change her mind at the last minute.” She pelted out the words like spit wads.

A million questions rolled through his mind. Why had Dani waited so long to make contact with her aunt? And what happened in the past that was too painful for Mama Beth to talk about? All good questions, but she looked in no mood to answer. He checked his watch and pulled himself to a standing position. Time to get a move on. Brighton would be here soon, and it wouldn’t hurt to look over the proposal one last time. He leaned down to plant a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be back later to check on you.”

She clicked her tongue with mock disgust. “You don’t need to check on me. When you going to find you a woman your own age?”

Steve laughed and clomped down the wooden steps. “Not ’til I find one as purty as you.”

With her laughter ringing in his ears, he clicked the picket fence gate into place, hauled himself into the truck, and ran a hand across his mouth. Actually it wasn’t a laughing matter. Women like Mama Beth were rare—kind, loving, selfless—everything he admired and wanted in a wife. No one measured up.

Only Lauren had come close with her country girl charm. He’d been convinced they’d marry some day, but that was before the accident, before his carelessness caused her death.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple frozen in his throat. He didn’t deserve to find anyone else. And being single was much better than ending up like his parents, unhappily married to the wrong person. An Atlanta debutante with a Texas cow-poke made about as much sense as a pig in a tutu.

With a premeditated push, he dismissed his thoughts and began to whistle. God would have to plop a woman down in his lap if He meant for him to be married. Until then, he planned on running fast and hard in the opposite direction.

His cell phone rang out its tinny song and he flicked it open to view the number, a slow grin spreading across his face. He punched the talk button. “What do you want now?”

“Where in tarnation are you?” Wanda Cates, the city secretary, sounded panicky. “Did you forget the meeting?”

“Take it easy. I have the situation under control. The meeting’s not ’til ten. I have plenty of time.”

“Well, for your information, Mr. Big-Wig’s already roaming the streets, poking his nose in every nook and cranny.”

His stomach rolled. “I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

He clicked the phone shut and gripped the steering wheel. So much for having the situation under control. What was it Mama Beth always said? Something about pride before a fall. Well, this fall could affect the whole town. He gunned the motor and sped down the hill toward City Hall, praying Ernie wasn’t nearby. Just wouldn’t look right for the mayor to get a speeding ticket.

Steve found Brighton in downtown Miller’s Creek, prowling the streets in his expensive black suit. He grimaced and glanced down at his own khakis and polo shirt. Casual wear to a man like Brighton. He steered the truck into a parking space, braked hard, and jumped out to greet his guest. “Mr. Brighton?”

“Yes?” The man spoke in a cultured voice and shook Steve’s hand as if it were a smelly fish.

“Steve Miller. Sorry I wasn’t here to welcome you, sir, but I wasn’t expecting you ’til later.”

The man elevated his nose. And sniffed.

Great. Just what he needed. Another city person looking down their nose at him and his town.

“It’s part of my job to investigate potential investments for my clients, Mr. Miller.”

Steve swallowed his smile, his mouth desert-dry. “Yes sir, of course. Can I show you around?”

“Actually, I think I’ve seen all there is to see.” Brighton clipped his words with extra precision and clicked his ballpoint pen. He deposited the pen in the inside pocket of his jacket then pushed his wire-frame glasses up his nose with a well-manicured finger. “Quite honestly, I don’t think my clients will be interested. You’re aware of the amount of money it will take to renovate this town?”

“Yes sir. I’ve researched all the possibilities over the past several months. That’s why I’d appreciate it if you’d let me show you around. Then we can go back to my office for the proposals.”

A cynical twist curled one corner of Brighton’s mouth, and he followed with a half-hearted nod. The man’s sour expression left no doubt as to what he thought of Miller’s Creek.

Steve unfurled the fingers which had bunched into fists. What was it with city people and their uppity ways? An image of Dani’s sulky face moved to the front of his memory. He pushed the picture away and began his spiel. “Miller’s Creek dates back to the early 1800’s. Rumor has it Sam Houston himself traveled through here on a regular basis.” He rattled off the speech he’d practiced for weeks. “The town grew by leaps and bounds when the train came through, but in the 1980’s the train company canceled the route, and the population dropped. It’s getting harder and harder for people to make a living.” Steve purposely stopped in front of Granny’s Kitchen, where the smell of the café’s home-cooked breakfast still lingered.

Brighton’s eyes snapped with impatience. “That’s the story of thousands of small towns across the country, Mr. Miller. Why would my clients want to invest their money here?”

He squelched the flare of temper that roared inside him and struggled to keep the irritation out of his voice. “The plan is to restore the downtown area and bring in more retail. A few restaurants, antique stores, dress shops. Miller’s Creek would make a great tourist attraction, sort of a nostalgic getaway.” The disinterest on Brighton’s face made his heart sink. This wasn’t working the way he’d figured. “The people of Miller’s Creek are the salt of the earth, Mr. Brighton. Hard-working folks who want to stay here and raise their families. We offer fresh air, home-grown crops, and a hometown feeling, something I think city folks are hungry for.”