Jenna's Cowboy (27 page)
“Yes, sir. Let’s pray.” Chance said a short but sincere prayer, asking God to bless the food.
Nate added his amen and grinned.
“What?”
“You Callahans don’t mince words when it comes to asking the blessing. Not that I’m complaining.” He opened the tartar sauce and dipped the edge of a piece of catfish in it.
“That’s because Grandpa Callahan was so long-winded the food got cold. When Daddy moved into his own house, he declared that the prayers would be short and heartfelt and the food hot. He saves his big paragraphs for other times.”
Nate chuckled and concentrated on eating for a few minutes. He’d be glad to have Dub Callahan pray for him anytime, long or short.
Chance stuck three fries into his mouth, chewing as he asked, “How did it go today?” When it was only the two of them, they weren’t necessarily big on manners.
“Not as good as I’d have liked. Doc gave me some tests and had me fill out a couple of questionnaires. There are still issues I have to deal with.”
“And you’d like to be done with the whole thing.”
Nate nodded. “I’m trying to be positive and focus on how far I’ve come.”
“In a short time.”
“And I’m thankful for that. Doc says I’ve made faster progress than many people. I know that’s God’s grace. I’m trying real hard to trust the Lord to finish the healing and teach me whatever he wants to out of this. I’ve been spending time in the evening reading the Bible. Plus Pastor Brad gave me some books about getting through this recovery process.” He grimaced and picked up his second piece of fish. “That makes me sound like a recovering alcoholic or drug addict. Guess I’d better be careful how I phrase things.”
“Not with us. We know what’s going on. And I’m betting you haven’t told anybody besides your folks and Pastor Brad about this.” Chance opened another packet of catsup and squirted it beside the fries in the basket.
“True. But who would I tell? Buster and Ollie? In case you haven’t noticed, y’all are the only friends I have around here anymore.”
“You could make new ones. Or reconnect with some of the guys we went to school with.”
“Don’t need to. Unlike you, Mr. Popular, I don’t need to have hundreds of friends.” He scraped the final bit of tartar sauce out of the last container. When he looked at the little cup across the table, Chance moved it closer to his own plate.
“There’s more in the fridge. Second shelf in the door.” Chance shrugged and took a sip of coffee. “It helps for a businessman to know lots of people.”
“Everyone in town?” Nate found the bottle and returned to the table, dumping some of the tartar sauce into the basket.
“You’ve known more than half of them all your life. Before long, you’ll meet everybody else too. That’s the way it is in Callahan Crossing. It’s one thing that makes it such a great place to live. Folks here care for each other. Don’t forget all those welcome home signs.”
“I haven’t. For the most part, folks here are good and kind. But it’s like most small towns. Gossip is major news.”
“Only if you’re hearing it. If you’re doin’ the talkin’, it’s just plain horseback opinion.”
“And people would definitely have an opinion. I don’t want everybody and their brother knowing what’s going on with me. My actions at the bonfire already generated speculation.” “True, but it died down pretty fast. There are enough vets around here who shrugged it off as a little battle rattle and not a concern to curb the talk.”
“You think they know otherwise?”
“Some of them probably do. Those who lived through it, like Dad. But they’re keeping it to themselves.” Chance polished off his last bites of fish and hushpuppy. The fries had already disappeared.
Nate wasn’t far behind. It was past time to change the subject, get the focus off of him. “Since you know everybody in town, probably everybody in two or three counties, why aren’t you dating anyone?”
“Slim pickin’s, my friend. While I was living the carefree bachelor life, most of the good ones were taken.”
“What about Lindsey? She’s cute, smart, nice, and a strong Christian.”
“No spark. I think she has her eye on our local deputy sheriff.”
“Does Dalton know it?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. She’s subtle. Jenna says she’s had a thing for him since high school. They’d make a good couple. He dated the County Extension agent for a while, but she transferred to a better job in Dallas.”
“Learn from his mistake. If you meet someone you like, don’t whistle at the moon and give her time to take off.”
Chance laughed and gathered up all the trash from supper and dumped it in the wastebasket under the sink. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the meal. That really hit the spot.”
“When doesn’t fried catfish hit the spot? I would have given a month’s pay for some when I was overseas.”
“Let’s go sit where it’s more comfortable. Maybe there’s a movie on TV.”
“I can’t stay too long. I need to hit the hay, so I’ll feel like hauling the real stuff early in the morning. The boss man doesn’t like the hired hands to be late.”
“He doesn’t like anybody to be late, including his kids.”
Nate followed Chance into the living room. On the far wall, behind a glass door, fire snapped and crackled in the fireplace. Terror spiraled through him. Instantly he was back in Iraq. Flames surrounded him, crawling toward him along the floor, across the ceiling. Smoke filled his lungs and he fought for air.
“Oh, man, I didn’t think about the fire.” Chance stepped in front of him. “Nate, are you with me? Can you hear me?”
Chance blocked the real dancing flames from his view, and his voice pulled him back to the present. Nate blinked and drew in a deep breath of clean, fresh air. His whole body shook.
“I’m sorry. I forgot that I’d built a fire when I got home. I’m an idiot.” Chance shifted his weight from one foot to the other, drawing Nate’s gaze. Dancing on the balls of his feet, ready to jump out of the way.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to attack,” Nate mumbled.
Keel over maybe, but not fight.
“Let’s go in my office and sit down. You’re white as a sheet.” Chance lightly touched his arm. When Nate didn’t throw him to the ground, he gripped it firmly and turned him around, practically dragging him to his office across the hall.
Nate slumped into a chair in front of the large U-shaped desk, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
“I think I lost you there for a couple of minutes.”
“You did. Obviously, I haven’t gotten over the fear of fire.”
“Did it trigger a flashback?” Chance sat down in the chair next to him instead of behind the desk.
“Yes. The beginning of one. The good news is you pulled me out of it right away. That’s an improvement.”
“Do you get them often?”
“Not too much anymore. I had several after the bonfire, but I’ve figured out most of the things that trigger them.”
“Like backfires. And I’d guess fireworks.”
Nate nodded and sat up straighter. The shakes had stopped, and he didn’t feel so weak. “Haven’t tested fireworks, but I figure I’ll lay low around New Years. Driving behind a diesel truck can cause one. It takes me right back to being in a convoy. It must have something to do with the truck itself as well as the smell of the diesel. The tractors and cotton stripper at the farm don’t bother me. Hearing a helicopter takes me back to a firefight with air support.”
“Good thing we don’t have many helicopters around here.”
“True. I’d be in a world of hurt around an army base. All I’ve seen is the one that checks the natural gas pipeline every once in a while. I was out in the pasture last week when he flew over. I hit the deck. Scared Jazzy silly, and she took off. Thankfully, she came back after a few minutes. Or maybe ten or fifteen. I’m not sure how long I was out of it. I’d belly crawled about twenty yards through the grass and ducked down behind some big rocks.”
“Whoa, you’re lucky you didn’t get snake bit.”
“If any were out sunning themselves, I scared them off.”
“So you need to stay away from fires, avoid diesel trucks and buses—or wear a gas mask—and keep earplugs in your pocket in case you spot a helicopter coming in your direction.” Chance rested his hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Piece of cake.”
“Put me out to pasture. As long as I have earplugs, I’ll be fine.”
“You’d get lonesome. Especially for a certain redhead and her kid.”
“That I would. If she’d been home I would have stopped by there instead of here.”
“That tells me where I rate on your priority list.” Chance laughed and moved around to the other side of the desk. He nudged a box with his toe. “Want a footrest?”
Nate shook his head and stood. “I need to mosey on home. Will you be working on the ranch tomorrow?”
“Maybe. I have to track down a load of lumber that should have been here already. Only half the shipment arrived yesterday, and the driver didn’t have any idea where the rest of it was. The crew can start on Monday, but if the rest of those materials aren’t here by Wednesday afternoon, the project will come to a grinding halt.” He walked to the kitchen with Nate. “Will we see you on Thanksgiving?”
“I doubt it. We’re going to Odessa to Uncle Joe’s house.”
“He’s the petroleum engineer?”
“Yes. Joe Jr. followed in his footsteps. He graduated from A&M last spring and joined his dad’s firm. Plus he recently got engaged. Another cousin has a brand new baby. So there will be others for the grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins to focus on. Part of the time, at least. They’ll fuss over me some, but it’ll be good to see them all.” Nate put on his coat, peeked at the thermometer outside the kitchen window, and buttoned it up.
“We’re having a big crowd too. All the shirttail relations seem to show up at Thanksgiving, whether they’re officially invited or not.”
“Have a good one, anyway.” Nate opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. “Brrr. It’s time to dig out the long johns.”
“Now I’m glad I’ll be working inside tomorrow. Have a good Turkey Day.”
Nate nodded and hustled to the pickup. He didn’t bother turning on the heater. It wouldn’t warm up before he got home anyway. “Lord, I sure wish you’d get rid of this fire phobia of mine. This would be a perfect night to make use of that fireplace at the house.”
As he drove by Jenna’s, he spotted a light on in Zach’s room. She was probably getting him ready for bed. He imagined Jenna, Zach, and him snuggled together on the big yellow couch in her house, reading a story. Maybe
Dr. Seuss
or something from that little Bible storybook where everything rhymed.
In his daydream, he wasn’t a guest. They were a family. He thought she wanted that too. She needed a loving, supportive husband. He could fulfill those requirements, no sweat. But she also needed a man she could rely on. In his current condition, that was like trying to pull a ten-horse load with four Shetland ponies.
As usual, Thanksgiving at the Callahans was a zoo. Jenna hadn’t been in any shape to see anyone the year before. She and Zach had escaped before anyone arrived, driving to a hotel in Sweetwater so her parents could honestly tell everyone that she was out of town.
She was determined to make up for it this year and help her mom as much as possible. She would also be sweet and friendly to everyone, even if she might not remember who was attached to whom.
Ramona and Ace always spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with their families. They left on Tuesday to visit her parents in San Saba, so Jenna and her mom were in charge of the kitchen. They roasted and carved the turkeys on Wednesday, storing the meat with some broth in plastic containers in the giant spare refrigerator in the laundry room. The cornbread dressing could be made ahead and kept refrigerated. They would bake it on Thanksgiving day while the turkey warmed in the oven. Sue even made the gravy, so their cooking chores the next day would be minimal.
Dub, Will, and Chance set up extra tables and chairs to seat their guests, and a long table to hold all the food. They had learned long ago that buffet style was the only way to handle the thirty-some-odd people who usually showed up.
By ten o’clock Thanksgiving morning, people began to arrive. Even the shirttail relations brought something to contribute to the meal. There were appetizers and relish trays, fruit salads and green salads, make-ahead mashed potatoes and two kinds of sweet potatoes, cheese-broccoli-rice casserole and green bean casserole, homemade rolls and butter, and half a dozen pumpkin and pecan pies and a chocolate cake. With the exception of the cousin who’d made the cake, the single guys contributed soda and sparkling 258 cider.
It was hectic, fun, and exhausting. Zach and Stacy, who was Jenna’s cousin’s three-year-old daughter, were the stars of the day. Kids and adults alike wanted to play with them. The weather warmed up to the mid-sixties, so the kids were able to play outside. A couple of the teenage girls volunteered to keep an eye on Zach. Will and Chance organized a touch football game, so most of the guys and a few of the females burned off some of their dinner by racing around the side yard.
At 3:30, one of the girls brought Zach inside for a diaper change. Jenna convinced him to stay in the house and let her dad read him a story. By 4:00 he was worn out. He came into the kitchen looking for her, rubbing his eyes, almost asleep on his feet.
Jenna knelt down in front of him and pulled him into a hug. “You look so tired, sweetheart. Do you want to take a nap?”
“Ye-ah.” He leaned his head against her and drooped.
Two aunts who were finishing up the dishes, her mom, and grandmother watched them with tender smiles. “I never saw a child that age admit to needing a nap. Enjoy it while you can. It won’t last.” Her grandmother leaned down and gently stroked Zach’s hair. “You’d better take him home. He’ll never get any rest around here.”
Jenna picked Zach up and stood, leaning over to give her grandma a kiss. Her grandparents would be staying a few days. “We’ll come back over tonight after things settle down.”
“We’ll look forward to it. We haven’t really had a chance to visit with him or you.”
“That’s because all your other grandchildren want to enjoy your company too.”
