The Secrets of Rosa Lee (22 page)

B
illy blinked away the bright sunlight. It had to be morning, he thought, Sunday morning. The only day in his week that he had free.

He straightened and felt a warm lump beside him.

“Lora,” he mumbled as he pushed hair away from her face. “You'd better wake up or I'm having some kind of nightmare that I've slept all night in the Rogers sisters' house.”

She didn't look interested in the idea. She pulled the afghan she'd been using for cover over her head. “We are at the Rogers sisters' house,” she mumbled. “Go back to sleep.”

“Lora,” he laughed. “It's dawn and you've slept with me again.”

She poked him in the side. “Shut up. I'm trying to sleep.”

He tugged his blanket away from where she was lying on it and stood. “I've got to find my clothes. You do whatever you like.”

“I don't want to go home,” she mumbled, sounding like a five-year-old. “I never want to go home.”

“I understand,” he answered as he moved through the kitchen. “I've felt that way all my life.”

When Billy got back from the laundry room on the
sisters' back porch, Lora was sitting upright, but didn't look happy about it. “You all right, babe?” He grinned. She still pouted.

“I'm not your babe,” she corrected.

He snapped his jeans and pulled on his shirt. “For a woman who loves to cuddle, you sure do wake up cross. I think bears come out of hibernation in friendlier moods.”

“I wasn't cuddling. I was freezing and you were warm.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I've got a headache and this conversation isn't helping.”

“Suit yourself, Whitman. You think you could get your butt off the couch long enough to drive me back to my car?”

She reached for her shoes. “I guess. I'll never get warm if you leave.”

“Don't do me any favors. I can walk.”

“Now who's testy?” She tried to shove her foot into the shoe and stand at the same time and tumbled back into the mass of pillows.

Billy laughed and offered a hand. “All right. I'll go easy on you. I guess morning isn't really your time.”

“You got that right.” She accepted his help. “But then, lately, neither is afternoon, evening, or night. I've got an emotional disability. I keep getting up on the wrong side of the bed.” She looked behind her. “Or couch.”

“I'll buy you a cup of coffee if you can manage to get that hair of yours under control.”

She flung it over her shoulder and looked for her other shoe. “We'd better hurry or Ada May will cook us breakfast.”

Suddenly, it was a game. They giggled their way through finding clothes and dressing, then tiptoed out of the house like two kids. Lora pitched Billy the keys to her Audi and they were off.

She tried to comb her hair while he drove, but the effort was pretty much hopeless. They headed out to the only places open on Sunday mornings, the truck stops on the interstate. Billy found one that had a breakfast buffet and they stuffed themselves with courses of fruit, pancakes, sausage, hash browns and grits. When they finished, the stack of plates looked like a family had eaten in the booth.

Billy offered to refill their coffee cups while Lora leaned back. Her headache had been replaced by a stomachache, but she wouldn't have missed the fun of pigging out. After last night's dinner at the sisters' she deserved a real meal and Ada May made even truck stop food look good.

A shadow crossed between her and the light. “Lora?”

She looked up into the face of a shocked Talon Graham. He hadn't changed, the oilman dressed as a cowboy. Perfect ironed shirt, hat shoved back on his perfect hair. A smile that never moved to his perfect blue eyes. Only this morning, he didn't have whiskey on his breath and his hands were in his pockets, not on her.

“Is that you?” He cocked his head to one side as if not believing what he was seeing. “I thought I saw your Audi in the parking lot, so I stopped. You haven't returned any of my calls.”

She didn't bother to glance down at the wrinkled jogging suit. “It's me. And I haven't been home much to take calls. Glad to see you made it back from Wichita Falls. You were pretty far under the table when I left.”

“I woke up yesterday morning in my car with you nowhere in sight.” He raised an eyebrow. “How'd you get home? You know I would have taken you if you'd insisted. I'd just had a rough day Friday and wanted to get lost in the bottle for a few hours.”

While she thought about answering, Billy appeared.
He wasn't as tall as Talon and his clothes were stained and wrinkled, but Lora decided he was about a thousand times better to look up at than the cowboy. Billy Hatcher had never let her down.

He handed her a coffee and slid into the seat across from her. His gray eyes watched the stranger closely over his coffee mug, but he seemed calm, almost totally relaxed, as if he'd spent years learning not to show emotion.

For a moment, both men waited, staring at her. “Talon Graham, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Billy Hatcher.”

Talon didn't look as if he believed her but, to his credit, he offered his hand. Neither bothered to say they were happy to meet the other. Lora didn't offer Talon a seat.

“Well,” he finally said. “I guess I'll see you later, Lora. Maybe we can try dinner again sometime?”

Billy watched her. She knew all she had to say was one word and he'd clobber Talon Graham. She'd told Billy all the details of the date, so Billy knew what a slug the guy was. But, she didn't want to make a scene any more than she wanted Talon to think there would be any possibility of a second date.

She slid her hand across the table and laced her fingers with Billy's. After the initial shock, he played along. “I don't think there will be another date, Talon. I'm seeing someone.”

The oilman looked confused. He obviously hadn't considered Billy in the game, not with Lora Whitman. “Isn't he a little young for you, Lora?”

“You're four years older than me, why can't I be four years older than him?” She winked at Billy. “Maybe I like robbing the cradle.”

Talon nodded once. “I see. Well, have a good day.” He walked away.

Billy pulled his hand away. “I wouldn't mind punching that guy a few times, but I'm not into fighting old men.”

“Who, Talon?” She laughed. “You just beat him without raising a hand and he knows it. If you're wise, stay away for a while, I'd hate to see my new boyfriend hurt.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“After a close look at your body last night, I've no doubt of that, but knowing Talon, I'd guess he wouldn't face you alone. He's more the type to get someone else to do his fighting for him.”

Billy frowned. “Are you trying to tell me that being your new boyfriend comes with a downside?”

She laughed. “Of course it does. I just told Talon we're dating. It'll be all over town by noon. Billy Hatcher and Lora Whitman.” She winked at him again. “And you haven't met the downside until you meet my mother.”

“There goes my reputation,” Billy mumbled as he sipped his coffee. “And stop winking at me. You're giving me the creeps being so nice.”

“You want to break up?”

“No, I'm too used to sleeping with you now.” He grinned. “Any chance I can call you babe?”

“No.”

“How about the odds of getting lucky?”

“None.”

“Damn, Whitman, being your steady sounds like great fun.”

They paid out and headed toward the parking lot. “You get to drive my car. Dating me is not all bad.”

He walked beside her, their strides matching easily. “I usually get a little more out of a relationship than car keys,” he complained. “But, it's a start.”

She swung back to slug him, when she caught sight of Talon sitting in his Cadillac watching.

“All right, one kiss.” She swung her arms around him and pressed her lips hard against his, then stepped away and slipped into the passenger side of her car.

She watched Talon slam his car into Reverse as Billy climbed behind the wheel of her Audi. He rubbed his mouth. “Where'd you learn to kiss, prison?”

Before she could explain, he leaned over and pressed her against the seat with a kiss that took her breath away.

When he settled back in his seat, he said, “The next time you kiss me just to piss another guy off, try to remember how.”

She tried to tell if he was angry about her show for Talon. She couldn't tell, but one thing she knew. Anger hadn't kissed her, passion had.

When he turned in at the Altman house, he left the car running as he climbed out. Lora opened her door and walked to the other side. “Still friends?” she asked, knowing that she'd used him back in the truck stop.

He winked. “Always, Whitman, always.”

Then, before she could answer, he was gone. Jumping over the railing of the porch and vanishing into the back of the house. She smiled. He was too young for her and she had a feeling that if they'd been the same age he would be too much of a man for her to handle.

“Friends,” she said as she drove away.

T
he First United Methodist Church of Clifton Creek had their monthly covered-dish luncheon after the eleven o'clock service. Micah loved the time. Everyone who stayed ate together, then the kids played in the basement while the younger couples visited and the older members played dominoes. The blending of generations always made him feel grounded.

By two in the afternoon, one of the ladies' groups had set up a quilting corner and guitar lessons were running nonstop in one corner of the activity hall. Micah suspected their popularity was due to the teacher who'd made a name for himself in clubs as far away as Dallas. In the summers, families moved out on the lawn behind the church and cranked up ice-cream freezers, but in the fall lots of coffee and an endless supply of desserts seemed to help pass the afternoon in what Reverend Milburn called country fellowship.

Today, Micah had begged out of a domino game in favor of digging through the old church files while he had the time. If Rosa Lee Altman had ever attended church, there was a good chance she'd come here. The Baptist church hadn't been founded until after World War II, so most folks, Methodist or not, must have attended here during the early years.

Unfortunately, the records weren't in great order. Every ten years or so the files were cleaned out upstairs, stuffed together in boxes and placed in a closet that also held extra folding chairs. Every time Micah tried a new box, he had to move chairs.

After half an hour of work, he hadn't even managed to find a single record of Rosa Lee Altman ever setting foot in the church. Maybe, if her mother had died when Rosa Lee was born, her father might have been too heartbroken to register her birth in the church record. Micah checked the next twenty years. Nothing.

Nancy, the church secretary, poked her head in. “Would you like a dessert, Reverend Parker? We're about to close down the kitchen.”

He didn't bother to ask how she'd found him. The woman had radar for knowing where everyone in the church was at any one moment. “No thanks.” He smiled. “Could I ask a favor of you when you have time?”

“Sure,” she answered, enjoying being inside the circle for once.

“Would you see if you can find any listing of Rosa Lee Altman in our records? I hate to ask, it may take hours.”

“I'll have hospitality start on it first thing Monday morning. If it's here, we'll find it before your next committee meeting with the professor.”

Micah frowned, then realized, of course Nancy would know of his next meeting. It was on his calendar. He wondered if her habit had always irritated him, or if the fact that he now had a midnight friend made him aware folks might be watching. He told himself he didn't care. He'd visit Randi even if the whole town knew about their breakfasts.

The hospitality committee Nancy had volunteered was a group of older ladies who prepared meals for funerals
and set up for weddings. They met every Monday morning to plan. Micah figured a lady had to be sweet for at least fifty years to get on hospitality. He'd never heard one of them say a cross word. Not even when the oven had gone out and the usual funeral brisket hadn't gotten cooked, or when the bakery had forgotten to make a groom cake and it hadn't been discovered until two hours before a wedding. Hospitality had simply gone to work and done the best they could.

“Thanks, Nancy,” he said, dusting off his hands and feeling grateful she'd agreed to take over the task.

“Anytime.” She smiled.

Micah knew Nancy wanted to be friends, not just coworkers. She'd invited him over for dinner with her and her husband a dozen times over the years. But he'd never gone. He told himself a single minister had to be careful against rumors, but it was more than that. He just didn't have much to say to Nancy and even less to say to her husband, who worked at the grain elevator and lived with a wad of tobacco in his mouth all waking hours except while he was in church. Micah suspected he reached for a pinch during the final prayer.

When she closed the door, he stacked a few boxes back in place and then sat down in one of the chairs. He'd lost sleep three nights this week visiting Randi and probably more time thinking about her. How could he have so much to say to a bar owner and nothing to say to the nice lady who worked in his office, or the older minister who loved his church more than Micah ever would? How could they be strangers and Randi be his friend?

He knew he could talk to Randi about anything, and he didn't really know her at all. Maybe it was the way she treated him. Maybe it was her quick wit and even quicker temper. Or maybe it was the way she let him dance with
her, heart-to-heart without asking questions as to why he came around.

Micah closed his eyes. He wished she were here now. He wanted to talk to someone about why, in all the years he'd been with Amy, he'd never told her his childhood dream. Yet he'd told Randi.

He'd acted as though the dream had passed, but sometimes at night when he couldn't sleep he remembered. Once in a while when he'd be driving past a ranch, the dream returned to slam against his reality. He'd pull over and watch the horses run. He wasn't a cowboy. He couldn't even ride all that well, but part of the little boy in him had never outgrown the dream of horses.

The dream didn't matter, he decided, but the fact he'd never told Amy did. Why hadn't he told her? Did he think she'd somehow love him less? If he hadn't wanted to be a minister, would he have been the perfect fit for her? Did he love her so much he was willing to erase a dream, or did she love him so little that it would have made a difference?

Micah leaned forward, his head in his hands. He'd lived with the loss of perfection when he'd lost his Amy. Now to see a crack made him grieve all over again.

“Dad?” Logan yelled from the doorway. “Are you in here?”

“I'm here,” he answered and stepped back into the role that had become his life. “Ready to head home, son?”

The boy came closer. He had a cookie in one hand and a paper butterfly with a Bible verse typed on it in the other. “I was wondering.” Logan made the butterfly fly as he neared. “If I could go home with Jimmy and play. His mom said she wouldn't mind at all. She says she owes you big-time for yesterday, whatever that means.”

“Tell her yesterday was my pleasure, but if you want
to go home with Jimmy and his parents, I'll pick you up later.”

“Wait until after supper, would you, Dad? Me and Jimmy got some talking to do. Tomorrow's school and we don't get to talk much then.”

“All right. After supper if it's okay with Jimmy's mom.” Micah knew it would be. The boys spent so much time together, Logan kept a toothbrush at Jimmy's house and Micah always bought a box of Jimmy's favorite cereal when he shopped.

He straightened Logan's hair and smiled.

With that his son was gone, running as always. Micah finished up, helping several elderly to their cars and locking doors. He crossed into his office where all was quiet. Without really thinking about it, he dialed Randi's number.

“Hello,” she answered on the first ring.

“Hello.” He couldn't think of anything else to say. He couldn't very well just blurt out that he wanted to see her. And, if he suggested they talk, she might ask what about and he'd be stuck. Maybe he was safer to stop with hello.

She laughed. “This is the most boring obscene call I've ever had.”

Micah relaxed. “I just thought I'd call before dark so you'll know I do come out when it's light.”

The other end of the phone was dead for so long, Micah thought she'd hung up on him. “Micah,” she finally said. “It's been four years this week since my husband and four others were in that oil-rig accident.”

He already knew that, the whole town talked about it from time to time. The worst thing that had ever happened in Clifton Creek. An oil rig blew, killing four and leaving one crippled.

Micah felt like a fool. He shouldn't have called.

Before he could say anything, Randi continued, “Some
of us are going out to the site this afternoon to kind of pay our respects. We're leaving in a few minutes.”

“I'm sorry.” He felt bad for calling. “I didn't mean to interrupt you.”

“No, it's okay,” she answered. “I thought of calling you to see if you'd go with me. I don't really want to go alone this year.”

“Are you sure you want me along?”

“I could use a friend.”

“I'm on my way.”

Ten minutes later, he drove into the bar parking lot. The sheriff and his pregnant wife were waiting with Randi. Granger didn't seem the least surprised to see Micah and greeted him with a nod. Meredith, who'd never met Micah, greeted him warmly. She waddled a few steps and Granger frowned and followed as if ready to catch her if she tumbled.

Before the introductions were over, another car arrived with a beautiful woman dressed in wealth and a man leaning heavily on a cane. Randi introduced them as Crystal and Shelby Howard. She didn't add, the one survivor, but Micah figured it out. Though the man was scarred and moved in slow steps, there was no doubt he loved his wife. Micah had heard more than one person in town say that Crystal had worked miracles taking care of Shelby and running an oil company.

They greeted Micah formally. The men shook hands, the women hugged one another. They all spoke of a widow who'd died soon after her husband and how much they missed her. Micah tried to follow the conversation, but these were old friends used to finishing one another's thoughts. Finally, everyone climbed back into their cars and the sheriff's car led the caravan out to the site.

Randi seemed quieter than usual as Micah drove. Micah
knew ways to draw her out, get her to talk about things she kept locked away. The tricks of the trade in counseling, he thought, but he used none of them on her. He wanted her to tell him when she was ready, if she ever felt ready.

He laid his hand over hers. She turned her palm up and gripped his hand, but didn't look at him. He drove on in silence.

The final woman widowed four years ago was waiting for the caravan at her ranch gate. She was striking atop a beautiful black mare. When she opened the gate, she introduced herself as Anna and to Micah's surprise, she winked at him. “Randi tells me you ride. I brought along an extra mount. We can cross to the site by the time everyone drives around along the road if you want to ride with me.”

Micah couldn't believe it. In his best dress pants, he swung up on a horse just as he had as a child. Anna kicked her animal into action. Randi smiled at him then slid over to the driver's seat of his car and followed the other vehicles. Micah was left at the gate trying to remember a skill he hadn't practiced in twenty years. Luckily, the horse seemed to want to follow Anna, so Micah's main task came down to hanging on.

He could see the beautiful woman riding as if she'd been born on a horse, while he bumped along behind. But the wind in his face was the same, and Micah laughed, remembering how dearly he loved riding even if he couldn't quite master the skill.

Anna slowed as a skeleton of an oil rig came into sight. She walked her mount until Micah caught up. “We meet here every year to remember. This is the first time Randi's ever brought a friend.” She smiled at him. “I'm glad you could come.”

By the time they got to the rig, the cars had pulled in
close to the ashes. Randi held his horse's reins while he climbed off. “Enjoy the ride, cowboy?”

He fought a smile. “I'm a long way from that and you know it, but yes. Thank you.”

“Hey, you're closer than you think. You can ride and two-step. There's not all that much more to it.”

Anna kissed a lean man standing by the cars and handed him the reins to her horse. Randi told Micah the rancher was Anna's husband, but she didn't take the time to introduce the men.

They joined the others, all silent now as they began the ritual. The women each collected flowers from the trunk of Crystal's car and scattered them on the burned pile that had once been a rig. The sheriff, Anna's husband and Micah stood back where Crystal had parked the car so that her Shelby could see without having to stand.

Micah was very much aware that each man watched his wife. The men were silent and it took Micah a minute to realize why they all frowned. They all realized that if the accident hadn't happened—if the men hadn't died—they wouldn't have their women now. They wouldn't have the life they had.

He looked toward the women. They must have suffered greatly, but they'd survived and somehow each must be stronger because of it. Crystal opened a bottle of wine and all but the sheriff's pregnant wife drank a toast. Then, they threw their glasses into the rubble.

Finally, the women turned one by one and walked back to their cars, tears streaming down their cheeks. Micah was glad he'd come. He wondered if Randi usually did this alone with no one to hold her after the odd ceremony.

For a few minutes, they let the men who waited wrap them in caring arms, then, nervously, they laughed as tissues were passed.

Anna invited them back to the house. Crystal said Shelby wasn't feeling well, but the others agreed. Anna's husband Zack swung his wife onto her saddle and said he'd meet her back at the house.

Randi looked up at Micah. “Can you stay a while?”

“Sure.” He grinned. “You don't want to help me up in the saddle?”

She shook her head and jingled the car keys. “No, but I'll race you back.”

He climbed back on the horse thinking he was getting the hang of it now. He even managed to stay up with Anna on the mile ride to their barn. In the afternoon sun, the place looked like what Micah had always dreamed a working ranch would be. It felt good to know that somewhere, for someone, his dream was real.

When they reached the corral, Anna handed her animal over to one of the hands, but Micah wanted to see the barn. He promised to catch up with Anna soon and then turned to ask the hand questions. Micah wanted to see more, smell more, feel more, while he had the chance.