Jesse's Brother (21 page)

He drank it all in. Martin hadn’t looked at one photograph or acknowledged any of the people who spoke of his wife. His hands were folded on his lap, his eyes cast down to the floor. Poor old man.

* * * *

“Martin?” The pastor called into the microphone for the third time.

Noah nudged Martin with his elbow. Was he okay? Noah looked up at the pastor, shrugged his shoulders and then looked back at him. “Are you okay?

“Damn it,” Martin whispered. “I can’t do it. I can’t lie about Frances.”

“Go up and read what’s on the paper.” He nudged Martin again.

“Then can we leave?” He slid to the edge of the pew.

“Yes. Get up there. I’ll take you out of here as soon as you’re done.”

Martin reluctantly got up from the seat and took a shaky step forward. He glanced over at the exit sign but continued on. The paper shook with his trembling hand. He raised the microphone, then cleared his voice. Talk. Damn it!

“Hello, everyone,” he began. He cleared his throat again and wiped a bead of sweat that formed on his forehead. “I want to thank you for coming here and paying your respects to Frances. You all were important in her life.”

A few people nodded while several sobs broke out into the air.

He took a deep breath. “I loved her because she was my wife of thirty years and the mother of my child. I will miss her companionship. The best part of memories is that the bad tends to fade away while the good parts stay forever. That’s how I will remember Frances Lynn Johns.”

He wiped his eyes on a handkerchief he had pulled out of his pocket. Noah rushed to his side and guided him down to the pew.

“I couldn’t read the eulogy,” Martin whispered.

“I know, but we’ll keep it a secret.” He offered Martin a smile even though it wasn’t going to make the situation or feelings change any.

“Noah, let’s go.”

Noah nodded.

“I want to go back to the ranch. Is that okay with you?”

* * * *

Back in the truck, Noah sighed. The problem had been weighing on his mind. There would never be a good time for this. Might as well get it over with.

He glanced at Martin, who was staring out the window with his chin in his hand. He didn’t envy the guy one little bit.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve become like family to me…”

“Yeah?” Martin asked while he continued to watch the country scenery as it passed by the window.

“But I…umm…” He didn’t think he could do it. The thought seemed so much easier than putting it inaction. His decision would hurt Martin. He didn’t want to do that.

“What, Noah?” Martin looked at him, waiting to hear those fateful words. “Spit it out.” “It’s time for me to move on. I know half of the ranch belongs to me but I want to transfer it to Sam.”

CHAPTER 25

Damn it, he could barely say her name in an even voice. How would he ever live without her in his life?

“It’s about her.”

“No,” Noah said.

“Bullshit.”

Noah had never seen so much fire from the man. He didn’t know if he should be happy at the display or worried.

“Okay. It’s about her. You need her. I’m the one keeping her away.”

They had made it back to the driveway. He turned the ignition off but neither made any effort to get out.

“I know you love her. I also know Sam very well. It’s not too late to fix things.”

“Martin…”

“But if you feel like you need to give up the farm then I’ll support your decision.”

He nodded and thanked the old man as the sheriff’s car pulled in behind his truck.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Let’s go find out,” Martin suggested as he pushed open the passenger door and stepped out of the truck.

Couldn’t be anything bad. There was no way Martin could handle another tragedy. He followed Martin over to the Sheriff’s car. His hands slid into the pockets of the black slacks he had worn for the funeral.

“Mr. Johns, Mr. Combs.” The sheriff tipped his hat. Sweat dripped down from his gray hair underneath.

“What can I do for you?” asked Martin, his voice staying surprisingly firm.

“I have something to report about Frances’s death.”

“Oh, no,” mumbled Martin. He leaned onto the sheriff’s car.

“The witness gave a false report. He came forward with the real story. He was drinking and driving. The man ran his car into her lane, causing her to swerve to avoid hitting him. She hit the pole.” His face stayed twisted in a frown. Sadness clouded his eyes.

“But the witness gave the first report on the scene. Right?” Martin asked.

“Yes.” The sheriff glanced away. “He did.”

“Then why wasn’t that in the report?” asked Noah.

The sheriff shifted his weight before crossing his hands over his broad chest. “The witness had some special treatment.”

“Why? Who is it?” Martin demanded to know. He stood straight up.

 
“The man is my son.”

* * * *

Life went back to normal for Samantha. She had a full month before school started for the new semester. Luckily, she’d been right in doing extra classes the first three years so now in her senior year she needed two classes in order to graduate.

She was glad to return to her apartment, even though she had this ache deep in her heart for Noah. It was like a pool of sadness that she’d tried to keep down. But once in awhile, the emptiness

inside would slowly fill, and sadness would take over.

Her apartment was on the third floor. She had met Megan while living in the dorms during their freshman year. As if school wasn’t hard enough, they had gotten jobs so they could move into their own apartment.

Their small apartment was exactly what they’d wanted. Megan had grown up sharing her room and bathroom with three sisters, so she had encouraged Megan to take the master bedroom. Samantha wanted the apartment to resemble the farm house as little as possible.

The stale air was a bit overpowering when she pushed the front door open. She dragged her suitcases toward the bedroom. After lugging those heavy things up three flights, her arms ached.

“I’m such a wimp,” she said to herself.

She glanced at the answering machine as she passed it. Zero new calls. By the looks of things, she hadn’t been missed.

She sighed as she shoved the luggage into her bedroom. Megan Rally hadn’t been in the apartment or at work all summer either. The women paid their halves of the rent through the summer before their visits with their families. The manager at Sweet Sensation, the diner they worked at, had said they could take a leave for the summer and would always have jobs.

She patted her pocket to make sure the locket was still there, then pulled it out and let it dangle in front of her.
Don’t open it.

“I need to,” she said. The silver rested in the palm of her hand. The hinges were stuck. “I know it opens,” she whispered. Her fingernails slid down into the seam and she pulled harder. The clasp sprung open, revealing the two small pictures.

Tears slid down her face and dropped on her t-shirt as she stared at the photos. On the left side of the heart was a nine-year-old Samantha with her hair twisted in long braids. On the right side was a picture of her mom taken on Mother’s Day.

On that day, she’d come to the breakfast table carrying the carefully wrapped jewelry box.
  
She was proud of everything about the gift from the locket itself to the fancy pink bow on top. Dad had offered to pay for the locket but she had refused to let him. After a year of allowances, she finally had enough. At nine years old she’d thought it was the best gift ever.

“Why did you have to go?” she yelled at her mother’s smiling face in the picture. Anger rushed through her as she looked around at the elegantly decorated bedroom.

“Don’t you know girls need their mothers, no matter how old they get?”
She couldn’t be alone. The old routine would help her forget. She walked over to the end table and snatched the phone off the base.

A familiar voice filled the line. “Sweet Temptations. This is Jayjay.”

She sighed. “I’m back early. Got any shifts available?”

“I’m down several people. You can work as much as you want at this point. When do you want to come in?”

“Now.”

The clanging of dishes and voices that floated over the phone usually would have filled her with dread but now it was a welcome distraction.

“How long have you been home?”

“An hour.” She was already setting out her uniform. Even the short dress with ruffled underskirt provided a sign of relief.

“That bad?”

“Oh, yes.”

CHAPTER 26

They had finished the lunch rush and after wiping tables, she thought she would tackle that boring task of filling condiment bottles. The mundane job helped keep her emotions in check. She was afraid that without anything to do, she’d be a blubbering, crying mess. Samantha could never be that. The summer had been emotional enough. She didn’t want to feel those things one tiny bit. She’d keep running until the emotions gave up.