Rodeo Reunion (19 page)

Something to drink. Maybe food. But for now, fluids. He hurried to her kitchen and went straight to the cabinet where she kept her glasses. At least he knew where everything was. He knew she drank tea and water, so he fixed a glass of each. Or maybe she'd want coffee. He put a pot on to cover all his bases.

Just as he set the glasses on the coffee table, she came back wearing stretchy pants and an oversize T-shirt. And even in the comfortable nondescript clothing with her swollen red eyes, she was beautiful.

“I brought you something to drink. Wasn't sure which you'd want.”

“Thanks.” She perched on the edge of the couch and took a long drink of the water, then set the glass back down. “You can have the tea if you want.”

“You hungry? I make a mean ham sandwich or hot dog. And I'm pretty good with a can of chicken noodle soup. Or I can make a Moms on Main run and bring you something back.”

“Thanks, but I'm not hungry.”

What could he do to comfort her further? Cody. A knife sliced through his heart.

“Do you want me to take you to Cody?”

She frowned. “Why?”

“You two are…close.” He shrugged. “I thought maybe seeing him would make you feel better.”

“No. I'd just distract him from his therapy.”

In spite of himself, relief filled the wound in his chest. “Why don't you lie down?”

“No thanks.” She scooted back and pulled her feet up on the edge of the couch. With her knees bent up under
her chin, arms around her legs, she formed a tight ball of anguish.

He settled beside her and she turned slightly to lean back against him. His arm circled her shoulder, as natural as if they'd cuddled on her couch for years.

“I did everything I knew to do. I started with airway management, then realized she had a EpiPen in her purse. I used it and got nothing. The EMT did an emergency tracheotomy, but it was too late.”

“I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

“She was so swollen I almost didn't recognize her. Annette Frasier.” Her voice broke. “A member of my church. Only twenty-five. She has a husband, a five-year-old and a three-year-old. So today he gets to tell them Mommy's never coming home.”

And she knew exactly how that felt. “You did your best.”

“If only I could have gotten to her sooner. By the time the math teacher, Ben Smith, brought her to me, she was barely breathing. If I'd known about the EpiPen in her purse and used it sooner. Or if I'd tried the emergency trach. I'd seen it done, but I was afraid to try.”

“Don't beat yourself up, Raquel.” He rubbed his thumb up and down her forearm. “It's not your fault.”

“I prayed for her to live. I felt so helpless—just like I did when Dylan died.”

“It was a random accident that happened. We'll never understand why some perfectly good Christian people die young. But it's in God's hands, not ours.”

“But she was so young. Her kids need her. Hunter and I needed Dylan. Why do senseless tragedies happen?” She punched the back of the couch.

“An age-old question. And the only answer I have—we live in a fallen world. But we have hope in Christ.”

“I know. We'll see Dylan again someday. Annette was
a Christian. Her family will see her again someday. And there were no kids there to witness what happened.” She relaxed a bit against him. “I listed all the positives I could think of to comfort poor Ben while I drove him home. He's probably a year away from retirement and was on the verge of passing out when it was all over.”

Dear, sweet Raquel. Reduced to a basket case, but she'd taken care of the distraught teacher before driving herself home.

“Every time he sees me next year, he'll remember. Every time I see him next year, I'll remember.”

“Time will soften the memories. You've got a whole summer to relax.”

“How do I face her family at the funeral?” She dabbed her eyes. “And at church?”

“I'm certain her family will be grateful to you for trying to save her.”

“They may not go this week. But I just don't think I can take the chance of facing them yet.”

“Visit another church. Maybe you could visit mine?”

She stiffened. “Yours?”

Shouldn't have gone into personal areas. “I'm preaching at a barn on Quinn Remington's property on a trial basis. Sunday is our first service.” He waited for her to push away from him. But she didn't. “Why don't you try to get some sleep?”

“That would be wonderful. But I don't see it happening.”

“Just relax. Music always helps me sleep.” He hummed the tune to “Amazing Grace.”

“Are you comfortable?” She relaxed against him and stretched her legs out on the couch.

“Never better.” He could stay like this for years.

* * *

Navy or black? The funeral wasn't until tomorrow, but in light of Annette's death, Raquel was in a navy or black
mood. She pulled a navy dress from the hanger. If she went to her church and Annette's family was there, it might make the funeral easier tomorrow. Or worse. Maybe they wouldn't be there. But maybe they would.

She got dressed and smoothed her hair. With shoes and jewelry, she looked ready on the outside. Except for the dark circles under her eyes. She'd pulled herself together enough to wear sunglasses and go to Hunter's practice Friday night. She'd had Lacie bring Hunter home Saturday morning and Brant and Tori had spent most of the day with her—worrying about her.

But Lacie had been a treasure and invited Hunter to spend the night again and go to church with them today. Keeping Hunter none the wiser that anything was wrong. Raquel owed Max several nights at their house soon. Once she caught up on her sleep.

The best she'd slept in the past two days was when she'd fallen asleep in Slade's arms.

A knock sounded on her door. She hadn't heard a car. But then, she'd been distracted. Maybe Hunter had gotten homesick and wanted to come home. She hurried to answer.

Slade stood on her porch. Her breath caught in her lungs.

“I thought I'd check on you this morning. You okay?” He leaned on the door frame, long and lean and way too handsome for her brain to function.

She nodded, dumbstruck.

“Looks like you're getting ready for church. Wanna come with me?”

She nodded.

“Really?” His eyes lit up.

“Let me get my purse.” The words sounded natural. Didn't they?

With her purse slung over her shoulder, she turned toward him. He offered his arm. Her heart rocketed.

“I can drive myself.”

“Why? We're both going to the same place. Save a little gas.”

A tiny smile escaped her. “It's only a quarter of a mile to Quinn and Lacie's.”

He escorted her to the passenger side of his truck.

She didn't protest and got in.

“Is the funeral tomorrow?”

“At ten.”

“Want me to go with you?”

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

“I'll take you up on it. Brant and Tori are coming, but I'll need all the strength I can get.”

“I'll lend all I can.”

He really was a wonderful man. Husband material. Father material. Brant had softened toward him. He might stay for the cowboy church. And maybe that was right where God wanted him. But he still rode broncs.

Mel Gentry, Lacie's first husband, had died riding a bronc. But Cody was recovering after his tangle with a bull. And a tiny wasp had killed Annette—a middle-school science teacher, the safest job a person could have.

God, work this out however You want it.

“You okay?” Slade glanced over at her.

“I'm fine.”

“You went all quiet on me. Just checking.”

Because I was praying. Putting us or any possibility of us in God's hands.
“Tell me about the church.”

“It's amazing how easily it came together. Quinn's letting us use the barn for two months rent-free to see how it goes. If it doesn't go over, we leave and he puts it back
on the market. If the church takes off, we're first in line to buy and he'll sell it to us for way less than what it's worth.”

As if God was behind it all.

“I agreed to preach for two weeks and see what happens.” Slade turned next to the barn just up from Lacie's driveway. “But there's nothing like an empty parking lot to wake you up.”

Not one truck there. Despite the huge sign—Cowboy Church with the first service date of today. “According to the sign, it doesn't start for another forty-five minutes.”

“I wanted to get here early and greet people. If they come.”

“I'm sure they will.” But would they? “Do many know you're here?”

“Garrett got some TV and radio spots for us. And several of the businesses in the Stockyards district agreed to put flyers up since a lot of the people who work and shop there live in Denton and Aubrey.”

“I guess I live in a bubble since I didn't know.”

The light dimmed in his eyes.

“But I'm not like most people. Our TV stays on cartoons and we don't listen to the radio much. I do shop at the Stockyards, but it's been a good month since I've been there. I'm sure there aren't many people like me.”

“I've never met anyone like you.” His gaze caught hers.

And wouldn't let go. Her breathing went all wonky. If he didn't stop looking at her like that, she'd do something stupid, like climb in his lap and kiss him.

R
aquel grabbed at the latch, opened the door and bailed out, gulping the fresh air. Must be lack of sleep and all the emotional turmoil of late.

“I'd have gotten your door for you.” Slade met her in front of the truck.

“I want to have time to look around before everybody gets here.”

He offered his arm, but she pretended not to see and strode ahead toward the barn.

Anything to resist him. And touching him sure wouldn't help.

At the door, she had to stop for him to unlock it. “If it becomes a church, we drew up plans to install some kind of glass door, windows, a lobby and classrooms. But for now, this is it.”

The heavy door swung open to reveal…a barn. Square bales of hay lay stacked against the back wall with a huge pile of folded quilts on the lowest stack. A dozen long
pews lined the front at an angle, facing a makeshift stage made from a single layer of pallets covered with plywood.

“It's kind of rustic, but it fits cowboys and cowgirls and that's what we're gunning for. I know the stage looks dangerous, but I can assure you the pallets are bolted together and the plywood's nailed down tight. The trough is for baptisms.”

She hadn't even noticed the long galvanized man-sized watering trough. Or the barn-wood cross behind a pulpit made from a huge tree trunk with a slab of wood on top and a wagon wheel on the front. “I like rustic.” She skimmed her hand over the smooth grayed-by-weather pew. “This looks like barn wood.”

“It is. One of the locations we looked at was a dilapidated old barn. Garrett bought it and had it bulldozed to build the pews. Mitch's dad builds furniture and cabinets, so he did it for free. They've got enough wood to fill this whole place if we need more. And for today, if we have overflow—” Slade clasped his hands as if in prayer “—we've got hay bales and quilts for seating.”

Raquel scanned the rest of the barn. Unfinished beadboard lined the ceiling and walls with branding irons, horseshoes, spurs and Texas stars strategically placed. She grinned. “Has Jenna been here?”

“We had to really hold her back, but we let her do a few things.”

Silver duct work lined each side against the ceiling and fluorescent lighting hung from exposed wiring.

It was nothing like any church she'd ever seen. Yet it had a certain warmth and charm to it. A bare sparseness. Anyone who came to church here wasn't looking for comfort or opulence; they were just looking to meet Jesus.

Gravel crunched. Under a tire.

“Somebody's here!” Raquel let out a whoop and flung herself into Slade's arms.

He swung her around.

“Guess we found the party.” Natalie cleared her throat.

And Slade set Raquel back on her feet.

“We were excited.” Raquel's cheeks warmed. “We thought somebody was actually here.”

“So Lane and I aren't anybody?” Natalie propped her hand on her hip.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Lane grinned. “And you're in luck. Another truck pulled in behind us. And then a dozen more.”

“A dozen!” Now Slade let out a whoop, picked Raquel up again and spun her around.

“We'd join the party—” Natalie patted her protruding belly “—but I don't think Lane can pick me up at this point.

“Wanna bet?” Lane swooped her up and spun her in a slow circle.

“I might hurl all over you.” Natalie giggled.

Slade whirled Raquel around again. Until she was dizzy from spinning. Dizzy from joy over the church. And dizzy from Slade's touch.

* * *

“Two hundred and thirteen people.” Slade passed Lane a hay bale to pile back in place. “Can you believe it?”

“I only counted a dozen I knew went to church somewhere else.” Natalie picked up a quilt and shook the hay out.

“That means two hundred and one people who probably don't usually go to church.” Raquel grabbed the other end of Natalie's quilt and together they folded it.

“Looks like we're in business, partner.” Lane offered his hand.

“I've still got some praying to do.” Slade clasped Lane's hand and glanced at Raquel. “But I'll be here next Sunday, Lord willing.”

“Can I do anything to help?” An unfamiliar male voice.

“Ben.” Raquel's voice went all soft. “I didn't realize you were here.”

Ben? Where did he know that name from? Ah, the math teacher.