Jenna's Cowboy (25 page)

“We appreciate that, honey.” Her voice sounded stronger, more in control. “What can we do?”

“Pray. And keep it to yourselves. I don’t want everybody in town knowing what’s going on.”

“We can do that, but it doesn’t hurt to have other people praying for you.”

“I’ve got a pretty good team lined up with y’all, the Callahans, and Pastor Brad.”

“Good enough.” His dad paused for a few seconds. “Do you want to move back here, son? So you aren’t alone at night?”

“Thanks, but I don’t think it would help. I’m too tuned in to every little noise. I think I’d be even more on alert.” And he didn’t want to scare them out of a night’s sleep when he woke up yelling. “I’ll let you go. I need to eat some supper and try out one of the doc’s miracle pills, see if it will help me sleep.” Not that he held out much hope of it acting right away. The physician said it might take awhile of gradually increasing the dosage to become effective.

They said their good-byes, and Nate hung up the phone. They’d reacted better than he thought they might. That was a relief. Having Jenna and the Callahans aware of what was going on lifted a burden too.

He ate another small plate of the spaghetti and had an apple. His mom always stressed the importance of fruit and vegetables along with grains, so he added a couple of her oatmeal cookies to his meal. He thought about turning on the TV and watching the news, then ditched the idea.

Listening to some of Jenna’s music would be smarter. He loaded his CD player with all of the albums and turned it on to a low, pleasant volume. The first CD was harp, flute, and fiddle music, with bagpipes joining in on some of the phrases. Nice.

After changing into an old, light gray San Antonio Spurs T-shirt and some lightweight blue sweatpants, he picked up the medicine bottle. The doctor said it was a common generic drug that had been used to treat high blood pressure for years. They had discovered that it also helped control the nightmares in PTSD sufferers. “Lord, the doc didn’t think this would help much right at first. But I’m going to trust you to make it happen tonight. I’d be happy with a couple of hours of good rest, but more would be better. Please help me sleep, Jesus. Let me rest in your care.”

He took the pill, turned out the lights, and went to bed, stretching out without any covers. Closing his eyes, he focused on the music, silently singing the words of praise that glorified God. The next one was familiar too, and as he silently declared the holiness of Jesus, he gradually felt a sense of peace calm his soul.

By the end of the album he’d almost drifted off to sleep, until the CD player paused and clicked as it turned to the next CD. The click jarred him, causing his heart to race and his muscles to tense. He jumped out of bed and crept to the window, making sure it was locked and that no one lurked outside. The living room was next. Scan the perimeter, check the locks on the doors and windows. Following his normal routine, he covered the kitchen and the spare bedrooms.

He got a drink of water and went back to his bedroom. “So much for resting in you, Lord.”

Don’t give up
.
Try again
.

Nate lay back down, listening to the music and praying. “God, we prayed for you to send your angels to watch over me. I’m going to believe that they are here protecting me. I know logically that nobody is going to break in here and attack me, but some part of my brain doesn’t get the message. I’m asking you to calm that fear, along with being afraid of having a nightmare.”

He continued to pray, not for himself but for his family and friends, both locally and some he’d met in the service. Guys he thought might be dealing with the same issues. Keeping his thoughts focused on others seemed to help. He might not be falling asleep, but praying for people had to be a good thing. So he kept going.

He prayed for servicemen and women around the world. For the highway patrolmen; the sheriff and his deputies, specifically his old friend Dalton; the Callahan Crossing constable and the members of the volunteer fire department—including Dub, Will, and Chance—who all kept them safe. Next came the president and others in various levels of the government from national offices on down. About the time he got to the mayor and city council, he fell asleep.

For the first time in weeks, he slept four solid hours.

Without a nightmare.

20

Late the next afternoon, Jenna chopped up celery and onions for a stir-fry and glanced out the kitchen window every few minutes. Nate had called that morning to tell her that he’d had a good night and to thank her for the music, which had helped him relax. He’d still been nervous about seeing the psychiatrist but not quite as worried as the day before. She’d invited him to come have supper with her and Zach if he felt good enough when he got home.

He’d called when he and Pastor Brad left Big Spring, confirming that he’d eat with them. She’d seen them drive by about forty-five minutes earlier on the way to Nate’s.

“Quit looking out the window,” she muttered. “You won’t make him get here any sooner.” After checking on Zach, she washed the broccoli pieces and pea pods, then sliced up the chicken. The rice was already cooked, and cubed fresh mango chilled in the refrigerator. She’d baked some banana muffins that morning that would work for dessert and leave some to send home with him.

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.
Jenna hoped he wouldn’t think she’d become a cliché. Over the years, plenty of women had tried to entice her brothers with their cooking. “Didn’t do them much good, either.” Chuckling, she looked out the window again and spotted his dark blue truck coming around the ranch house. Excitement zipped through her. On her way to the door, she took a quick peek in the walnut framed mirror she had rescued from an old dresser. She didn’t want to greet him with celery stuck in her teeth or teriyaki sauce splattered on her blouse.

Zach came running over and climbed up in the chair she’d put under the window so he could see outside. He saw Nate getting out of the pickup and looked up at her with a smile.

She opened the door, then jumped over to help Zach down from the chair. He usually made it without any trouble, but he was in a hurry. The second Nate stepped inside, Zach met him with arms uplifted.

Smiling, her tall cowboy bent down and picked him up, giving him a hug. “Hi, buddy.”

“Play cars?”

“We’d better check with your mom.”

“I’m doing a stir-fry. If you’re hungry we can eat right away, or it can wait awhile.”

“Let’s wait a little bit. I’d like to spend some time with this guy. Zach, you go pick out some cars, and I’ll be along in a couple of minutes.” He set the boy on the floor, chuckling when he raced into the playroom. “If we could bottle his energy, we’d get rich.”

“By selling it to parents and grandparents of other toddlers.” Jenna slid her arms around his waist. His eyes widened slightly, and he put his arms around her too. “Welcome to my home.”

He grinned and pulled her a little closer. “Is this the way you greet everyone?”

“No. Only special people.”

“Ah, so I’m special, huh?” A sparkle lit his eyes.

That was a very good sign. “In a category all your own.” He lifted one eyebrow. “The only one I kiss hello.”

“I like the sound of that.” He kissed her gently. When he raised his head, he sighed softly. “I’m really glad you moved into this house.”

Jenna laughed and pulled away. “Me too.” Zach came racing back to them, cars in each hand. “No built-in babysitter, but it’s definitely going to have some advantages.”

Nate followed Zach to his playroom. It had been fun fixing up the room for her son. A little oak table and two chairs sat against one wall. She’d put a small matching bookcase on the floor next to it so he could reach his books. The yellow toy box she’d had as a child sat in the corner. Most of the floor was covered with a low pile rug in mixed shades of blue for a soft place to play with blocks and things. She’d left a stretch of the bare hardwood floor along one side for racing cars. One wall was painted to look like a mini-corral, with oversized boots sitting beside it and a big hat hanging from a post.

Nate stopped in the doorway and surveyed the room. “This is great. Did you do the art?”

“No. That’s one of Lindsey’s creations. She’s developed a nice little side business painting murals. It gives her a good break from her job at the bank.”

He turned in the doorway and scanned the living room and country kitchen. “The whole place looks good.”

“Thanks. I didn’t change things too much. The bedroom furniture, sofa, and chairs are mine. And, of course, the things in Zach’s room. The rest either belonged to my grandparents or Mom had picked it up for the guesthouse. I did some painting, but not a whole lot. I’ll plop over there in the corner and relax while y’all play.”

She followed Nate into the playroom and sat down in the adult-sized, navy blue bean bag chair. There was a matching kid-sized one next to it that Zach occasionally occupied for a minute or two. If he sat there for more than five minutes, it would be a new personal record. Her son considered the room a play area, not a place for resting.

Jenna laughed as Nate pushed a little police car around, making siren noises and chasing Zach’s car. They drove up and over a big yellow pillow and under the table—a stretch for Nate but easy for Zach to crawl through when they moved the chairs out of the way. They parked the cars, and the little boy dragged over his barn, which came with animals, people, and a tractor and trailer. Nate helped him load a cow into the trailer. Zach dutifully put the farmer on the tractor seat and drove him “to town.”

As she slipped out of the room to finish supper, she heard Nate promising to bring some cotton over to put in the trailer. “Then we can haul it to the gin,” he said.

Ten minutes later, she had everything almost ready. “Y’all wash up. It’s time to eat.” She heard Zach giggle and looked up to see Nate chasing him down the hall to the bathroom. They joined her a few minutes later, both of their shirts splattered with water spots. “Is there a puddle on the bathroom floor?” she asked with a smile.

“Nope.” Nate winked at her son.

Zach grinned. “Nope.”

“We cleaned it up.” Nate set Zach on the chair in front of the plate she’d already fixed for him. “That looks good. Smells like teriyaki.”

“That’s right.” She tied a bib around Zach’s neck. He picked up his cup of milk and had a big drink. When he reached for his fork, she touched his hand. “Wait for us, so we can pray.”

Nate helped her with her chair, then sat across the round cherry table from her. Zach dutifully clasped his hands together and bowed his head. It was something he’d just learned, so Jenna prayed quickly before he became rambunctious. “Father, thank you for this food and that Nate can share it with us. Thank you for your many blessings. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Two male voices, one deep and one sweetly childish, echoed, “Amen.”

She had about half a second to relish the sound before Zach unfolded his hands and reached for his fork, digging in.

Nate nodded toward the toddler. “That was new.”

“This is his third night of actually bowing his head. But whoever is praying has to talk fast.”

“Works for me.” He spooned a big helping of rice onto his plate, then added the teriyaki chicken and vegetables on top of it. “I worked up an appetite racing all those cars around.”

Jenna glanced at Zach. He was eating diligently. “I think somebody else did too. Things must have gone well today.”

“Better than I’d expected.” Nate dished up some mango in the small bowl by his plate. “Everything they could check today on the regular physical was fine. The results won’t come back on some of the blood tests for a few days, but the doctor didn’t think there would be anything unusual.” He took a bite of the stir-fry. “This is really good.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. “I didn’t know you were such an excellent cook. Except for the brownies, I don’t think I’ve eaten anything you’ve made.”

“I botch things now and then, but most of the time it’s edible. When Jimmy and I were first married, I didn’t have much to do, so I watched a lot of cooking shows. I don’t get too gourmet, but I like trying new recipes with fifteen or less ingredients.”

“Five’s my limit. I even have a cookbook where every recipe has five ingredients or less.”

“Chance has one like that. I don’t think he’s ever opened it. Have you used yours?”

“A couple of times. It’s easier to buy frozen dinners at the store and throw them in the microwave. They taste good enough. Sometimes I toss a steak on the grill.”

Jenna checked Zach’s progress. “Honey, you need to eat some of your vegetables.”

“No.”

“Yes, you do.”

“More chicken.” Her little boy smiled sweetly.

“Vegetables first. You like broccoli and pea pods, remember?” Frowning, Zach poked at a small slice of celery with his fork. “What’s that?”

“Celery.”

He made a face and shoved it to the side of his plate. Jenna glanced at Nate. He was trying hard to keep from laughing. “You don’t need to try the celery this time, but you have to eat some broccoli and peas before you get any more chicken.”

“Okay.” Sighing, Zach picked up a piece of pea pod and shoved it in his mouth.

“Chew it good.” Satisfied that he wasn’t going to try to swallow it whole, she turned her attention back to Nate. His plate was almost empty. Maybe she should admonish him about chewing before swallowing.
Naw
.

“How did you get involved with the Mission?” Nate relaxed against the back of the chair and sipped his iced tea.

“Lindsey volunteered there a couple of afternoons a week. One day another lady was sick, and she’d received a shipment of food from Abilene. She needed help putting it away.” Jenna smiled, remembering how her friend had persisted. “And she knew I needed to quit hiding at the ranch and focus on somebody other than myself. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. I finally caved in. I’d intended to only help that one time, but she kept asking and I kept going.

“Before long, the director had to retire due to health problems. Nobody else wanted the job, so I took it. It isn’t a paid position, which is fine for me. We have a handful of volunteers who work a few hours a month. I try to keep them and everything else organized.”