Sweetwater Promise, page 12
“Rain, mud, you name it. Nothing important. Thanks, Tracey.”
I took off at a trot for the ICU. There, I saw my mother’s placid face through the windows. She came out. “Daisey! Thank goodness you’re here. My gosh, look at you. How on earth did you get into this state? Oh, that gown!”
I cringed. “I’m sorry, but I had to hike through a mile of muddy fields to get here. Don’t worry. I’ll get the dress cleaned.” Why are we talking about mud at a time like this?
I pushed past her and, ducked around my brother to find my dad sitting upright, wearing a hospital gown, with blankets tucked around him. He was pale. His vulnerability hit me hard.
Scurrying to his side, I kissed his cheek and brushed back a wayward strand of hair from his forehead. When had he gotten so gray? “Hey Dad. How are you feeling?”
“Fine. I told Doc Stone I wanted to go home, but you know him, needing patients in the hospital to be able to save for those expensive trips he’s always going on.”
I forced myself to match his light tone, though I think my laugh was shaky. “Well, someone has to keep the hospital in business.” Doc Stone was notorious for never taking a vacation. “Otherwise, we’ll be sending everyone by ambulance to Grand Forks. Not a good option when you need medical care right away. Jack said it was Mother who got you to the hospital right away.”
“Yes, your mother is a real corker. Made me leave the office and come right down here. Wouldn’t believe I had acute indigestion. Plus, I was having trouble getting a deep breath.”
We both glanced over at my mom, who was busy arranging summer flowers in a tall cut-glass vase. I noticed her fingers trembling and I knew right then it hadn’t been as easy as everyone was making it out to be. They were just being the staunch Winslows the townspeople knew and expected.
“She did the right thing,” my brother said. Matt still wore his suit, but his tie hung askew. He looked tired but relieved, which further boosted my thoughts that the attack had been mild.
A shadow across the doorway drew everyone’s attention. Doc Stone looked up from a sheaf of papers in his hand and beamed at all of us.
A middle-aged man, he had an easy bedside manner. His dark brown hair was too long and disheveled as usual, his focus only on patients, not on his own appearance. Smart, well read, and happily married. Perfect for our town. If Doc Stone couldn’t figure out what was wrong with you, he’d know someone who could.
He carried an open file he had been reading as he walked in. He nodded in my direction. “Hi, Daisey.”
“Hey, Doc,” I said, holding my breath. Please, please confirm what I’ve been told so far. That my dad was going to be just fine.
I swallowed hard, needing some of my ancestor Sadie’s faith today, more than ever before. I closed my eyes, waiting for the verdict, but not feeling alone. Sadie stood alongside me, her presence as strong as Sweetwater itself.
Doc Stone said, “I have good news and all the tests to confirm it. It wasn’t a real heart attack, per se, but a warning, likely caused by overwork, stress, and worry. You need to slow down, Harry. Let your son take on more of the load. I think you should consider working part time for a while. Give your body time to recover.”
Matt looked both gratified and irritated by the news. “I told you so. You shouldn’t have been letting that darn Johnson case keep you up at nights. We could have prevented all this if you would just let me—”
“Matt,” my mother warned.
“Fine, but I want it known that I’ve been wanting to help more.”
“Son, please, the way Bob Johnson gets, you know I’ve needed to keep my hand on the reins.”
“You have to understand—”
Our father cut him off. The two of them reminded me of the bickering couples I’d left behind with the wagons. “But you’re also right. I will be making some changes, and I hope I have everyone’s support to do so.”
“Of course,” Matt and I chimed in as Mother moved to his side.
She leaned over and kissed my father. It wasn’t something I had seen that often, and it made tears well up in my eyes. My mother was not known for being openly affectionate, but I had always known she loved my dad. It was demonstrated daily in her actions of taking good care of him. Of course the sun rose and set on my mother, according to my father.
“Now, Harry, you need to rest.” She looked up at both of us with a pointed glance.
“Yes. I need to get home and clean up,” I agreed, noticing Doc Stone had left. “Give me a ride Matt?” I caught him checking out my muddy clothes, wanting to say something, then deciding to let it go.
“Sure, sis. Catch you in the morning, before work.” He pressed his hand over Dad’s where it lay on the white coverlet.
“That would be fine, Matt. Thanks. Oh, there is one thing you can do for me.”
“Anything, just name it.” My brother perked up at being asked to help out.
“Raise the flag in the morning at 8:00 AM sharp. That would mean a lot.”
“Sure thing, of course, I’ll see to it.”
I swallowed past the lump that filled my throat without warning. Rain or shine, sleet or snow, my father had been raising the flag for as long as I could remember. A proud man, he never let the Fourth of July go by without a neighborhood barbecue or Veterans Day pass without its proper, respectful due. I’d seen that special gleam in his eye he got whenever he ordered more fireworks from Logan Barnes down at the hardware store more times than I could count, and it made the day all the more special.
A notorious lover of fireworks, he’d enchant all the neighborhood children with an amazing display of patriotic explosions on just about any holiday except Christmas. That, he’d say with complete conviction, was for quiet and reflection and an appreciation of all you have.
I slipped to his bedside now with so many memories of his goodness flooding into my mind and nearly overwhelming my defenses.
I gave him another kiss on the cheek. “Be well. I love you.”
No way would I ever find a man like him. It just wasn’t possible. Not that I wanted a man in my life right now. I needed to be unimpeded to claim my right to decide my own future.
“I love you, Daisey. Now get out of here and quit moping. I’m right as rain.”
“Good. You stay like that, you hear me?”
I trailed after my brother, blowing my parents a final kiss from the ICU doorway before heading back down the corridor. A huge burden had lifted off my shoulders, but from Matt’s body language he was not feeling it like me.
“You okay, bro?”
“You’d think he would have listened to me before this. I kept saying, ‘I can do more,’ But no, he had to do it all himself. I mean, I’m a good lawyer, right? Top of my class, same as he was. Why can’t he see that I’m more than capable of filling in whenever he needs me?”
My brother glanced at me. I could see the hurt ran deep, creating a well of anger combined with grief. I felt closer to my brother at that moment, aware we shared a similar pain, a sense of not being good enough, though with different outcomes.
He was content to stay in Sweetwater and share his expertise while I hungered for New York and its challenges.
“Hey,” I said. “Don’t forget, he’s always been so proud of you. He’s ready for you to help more now. He just asked you to, didn’t he? Have you forgotten so soon?”
“He did, true. However, if he’ll live up to it is another matter.”
“Our father has always done what he said he would. I saw the truth of it in his eyes. He wants your help.” I patted my brother’s shoulder.
He gave me a hug. I liked that I fit under his chin. “Thanks, sis. Ugh, your dress is dripping mud on my pants. Let’s get you home.”
I laughed. “Why is everyone so worried about a little mud? It does wash off, you know.”
“True. Just don’t be tracking it into the café or Rose will have your hide.”
“Yeah, maybe. You know, I think I’ll walk home, I don’t want to get mud all over your car.” I could see Matt was about to protest. “No, I’ll be fine. I could use some alone time to calm down.” I gave a sigh, shaking my head. “Heck of a day.”
“If you’re sure. I can always wash the upholstery. No problem.”
“I’m sure. Catch you later.” We went our separate ways at the entrance and I began the short walk home. I needed to talk to Rose and let her know everything was fine with my father.
Chapter Fourteen
I got a few strange looks and a couple of friendly waves as I hurried along the side streets back to the café. From the back alley behind the building, I raced up the stairs two at a time, wanting to keep Rose unaware of the mud problem until I changed my clothes. Of course, the universe had other plans and who would be just leaving her apartment but my cousin. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of me.
“Daisey, my goodness, what happened to your dress? And how is your dad? I just heard. Is he all right?”
“He’s going to be fine. Not a real heart attack. Something brought on by stress and overwork, according to Doc Stone. He’s been advised to slow down. Matt’s more than ready to step up to the plate.” Saying the positive words helped me believe he was going to be all right.
“That’s great news.” Rose smiled ear to ear, moving in to hug me.
“Better not. I’m a muddy mess.”
She leaned forward, avoiding contact with my dress, and kissed me on the cheek instead. “Are you finished with the wagon train trip? Are you going back?”
“No way I’m going back.” Too much temptation and aggravation.
“Why, something wrong? Did something happen between you and your new boyfriend?”
“Jack’s not my boyfriend,” I muttered.
Rose’s eyes widened. “You guys have a falling out?”
I shrugged. “We’re just different people. You know, he doesn’t even believe I can spot a lie.”
“That’s just plain crazy. Of course you can,” Rose said, ever my staunch defender.
“Tell him that.”
“Well, you’ll show him. He’ll soon be eating his words.”
“Yeah.”
“Daisey, are you all right?”
“Sure, why are you asking?”
“Well, Boyd was such a pain the other day and you’ve got so much on your mind what with selling the land and deciding on when to leave for New York.” Rose chewed at her bottom lip. “I just thought that maybe everything was wearing on you.”
“It’s not the best thing that’s ever happened to me, having to make a final decision of what to do with the land that’s been in my family for so many generations,” I admitted. “But I’m fine with it. Or at least I would be if the deputy sheriff would leave me alone to get on with things. He seems to have an opinion on everything.”
Rose laughed. “Like your ability to spot a lie? He’d be lucky to have your secret weapon in his profession, Princess True-Blue.” She had called me that when we were children in grade school, but I hadn’t heard her use it in years. The moniker made me smile now, with the sweet memory.
“I need to clean up.” I took a couple of steps toward my apartment door.
“That big-city detective will come around, mark my words,” Rose called after me.
“Maybe. We’ll see.” I hated to admit it, but I missed him already. He’d been such an awesome companion on the road. I had another thought and turned around. “Did it rain here?”
“No, well, just a few sprinkles yesterday. Why?”
“We had three days of downpours.” Another funny trick, eh? I rolled my eyes skyward and snorted. “Catch you later.”
I bunched the offending cloth in one hand and opened the suite door with the other, hoping to avoid a muddy trail. I rescued the precious journal from the pocket, struggled with the back fastenings of the dress, and shed it in the center of the kitchen floor. Filling the sink with a heaping cup of laundry soap and hot water, I left the dress to soak.
In the bathroom, I caught sight of my reflection in the full-length mirror. I giggled, partly with relief and partly because I looked so funny wearing fancy underwear, with a bonnet perched on my head.
In moments, unable to stop, my laughter turned to real sobs as tears streamed down my face. I let all the day’s anguish drain away before reminding myself that we were lucky, it was just a warning this time.
Then gathering myself, I shucked the remainder of my clothing and climbed into the shower. Oh, the pure luxury. Standing there, letting the hot, steamy water wash away three days of grit and grime, I began to feel like a new woman. Extra hair conditioner also helped. Time to tame the curls.
A fresh set of clothes, this time nothing fussy or gathered or full-skirted, but a sleeveless white blouse and a pair of beige capris turned me back into a better Daisey. A bit of properly applied makeup and a smooth swinging ponytail, and I was all set to get on with what was left of the day.
It was already past one o’clock. I grabbed an apple from the fridge to slake my hunger.
What first? I needed to check in with Al. I ate the apple in a few bites as I made my plans, then threw the core in the garbage.
The Sweetwater Times’ office is three blocks from the café, at the other end of Main Street, on the south side. Everything was still blocked off for the rodeo, making me feel I hadn’t missed too much being away.
I stopped in front of the two-story limestone building and looked in the big picture window etched with silver filigree spelling out The Sweetwater Times in cursive script. On the back wall were the mug shots, which Al called his “Wall of Fame.” All the happy couples that had brought together. Seemed every time there was an event in, a marriage followed.
My favorite section, next to the Christmas marriages, were the Rodeo Romances. If we didn’t put out a year end paper with all the happy events Sweetwater was responsible for, there’d be repercussions.
Heck, people even framed the page that included their own or family members’ joyous days and their stories of their Happily Ever After. That was one feature I truly put my heart into, writing those inspiring stories.
“Is Al around?” I asked the only other employee of the newspaper.
Terry Jones runs the office and puts out the paper. He’s a short, blandly handsome, blown-dry type. If the paper ever went bust, he could attempt a career as a TV news anchorman or game show host. He had the right voice for it, reassuring with an even timbre.
Terry looked up from his computer screen, fingers stilled on the keyboard. “Hey, I thought you were making the trek this week?”
“I was, but I got called back.”
“Oh, my. Right, your father. Is he okay?” Terry asked with a frown.
“Yes. Thanks for asking. The doc says he’s going to be fine. Just needs to slow down.”
“Say, I heard you’re selling your land to the Green Wave group.”
“Who told you that?” I frowned. Not again, someone setting the rumor mill on fire.
“Sally Perkins.” He must have read my flare of outrage. “Oops! She announcing it a bit prematurely?”
“A bit? The nerve of those people.”
And the nerve of Sally for horning in on Jack last night. Maybe I had been a touch jealous. I threw the uncomfortable thought aside. No more thinking about Jack, please.
“Well, they do say they have the town’s best interests at heart,” he hedged. “Even if they can’t afford to pay you much.”
“Not you too. I don’t know who I’m going to sell to or if I’m going to sell at all.”
“Well, I for one, would like to see you get a chance at New York.” Terry was one of my few supporters for leaving here. Maybe because he’d once shared with me that he’d like a chance at the big time too. “You got the chops. You deserve the chance to prove it.”
“Thanks, but it’s definitely not going to happen if I sell to the Green Wave. They’re offering peanuts.”
“While the Crown Development Corporation will pay you well. Quite a dilemma. Just don’t rush the decision. Lots of time yet to mull it over.”
“Daisey Winslow, if you’re done picking Terry’s brain, I need to see you in here. Now.” Al’s voice rang out loud and clear. He sounded more riled than normal.
I took a deep breath and walked the last few condemned person’s steps to Al’s office. He sat behind his battered desk, a piece of furniture that was a true reflection of himself. Rough looking salt-and-pepper hair, weathered skin, oversized facial features. Add in piercing grey eyes and a fondness for denim, and Al was the epitome of the rancher type he’d been until finding a calling in journalism. Sold his ranch to his brother-in-law and never looked back. Darn good at the job.
I don’t think anyone else alive could have kept the paper alive and thriving. He made it a point to personally drive to the surrounding towns to sell ads, too, and report their news.
“You wanted to see me,” I said. He was staring out the window at the street, looking like a man with a burden.
He turned and directed those riveting eyes my way. I gulped. He always made me nervous.
“How’s Meadow?” I asked, hoping to soften him up.
“The girl’s fine.” He dismissed my question and nodded at a chair. “Have a seat.”
“What’s up?” I asked brightly.
He shoved a sheaf of papers aside and crossed his arms on his desk. “You’re back early.”
“Yeah, soon as I was told about my dad I came home.”
“I was sorry to hear about it. How is he?”
“He’s going to be fine, thanks.” I filled him in on recent events like I knew I’d be doing until every last person in Sweetwater had been reassured. Best duty ever.
“Any photos of the wagon train?”
I swallowed. “Ah, sorry. The Wagon Master confiscated all the phones, so no pictures.”
“Then get back there and make sure he aims his camera where you need it.”
