Seeds of Summer (12 page)

“G
OOD, THEN MAYBE YOU'D BE WILLING TO HELP WITH ANOTHER
problem as well?” Natalie headed to the front door, not taking time to consider Jared's deer-in-the-headlights expression. Expecting him to follow, she bounded up the living room stairway. “I've been cleaning my dad's bedroom, and everything is packed in boxes—mostly work clothes, but there are a few western suits. Maybe you know someone who could use them?”

A quick glance inside the room gave Natalie a moment of satisfaction that her chore was almost done. It also left a hollow pit in her stomach, that their father's personal possessions would soon be gone. Her eyes pricked with tears, and she hurriedly swiped them away as Jared caught up to her.

“I'm sure I can find a home for them,” he said at the top of the stairs, a bit winded. “How much do you have?”

She widened the door to reveal a dozen cardboard boxes. “Think we can fit them in your car?”

Jared scratched his forehead. “Sure, no problem.”

Natalie wondered if Jared always displayed such a positive attitude. From what she could tell, the man was optimistic to a fault.
What she couldn't decide was whether this trait was a good thing or a nuisance. She lifted one of the boxes and headed for the stairway.

“Let me carry that.” He took the bulk from her with ease, and it became apparent that he possessed more strength than she realized.

Her hands fell to her hips. “I'm not helpless.”

“I never said you were.” He glanced back with a smirk.

Fifteen minutes later, they'd managed to fit half the boxes into his small car.

“I guess we should have loaded them in my pick-up.” Natalie studied her black Ford, debating whether to transfer everything into the bed of her truck.

“This will do.” Jared closed the car trunk. “I can deliver these to the church and then when I return tonight, I'll get the rest. What time is dinner?”

Natalie watched her brother chase after a goat, swinging a rope over his head. “Libby's supposed to be here around seven,” she said as Dillon abandoned his game and came running toward them.

“Hey, whatcha doing?” His forehead glistened with sweat. “Are you leaving already?”

Jared opened his car door. “I'll be back in a little while to eat dinner with you.”

Dillon's loop dangled at his feet. “Can I go with you?”

Jared shrugged and glanced at Natalie. “It's all right with me, if it's okay with your sister.”

Her brother's eyes darted to Natalie's, begging her to say yes. “I've finished my chores. Can I go, please?”

“Don't you want to be here when your mom arrives?”

His eyes slid to Jared's. “We can be here, can't we?”

Jared studied his watch. “Is six-thirty early enough?”

Natalie nodded, wondering at the fondness these two shared. She supposed Dillon needed the male companionship, especially now that their dad was gone. “I guess that'll be okay, as long as you promise to clean up as soon as you get back.”

Her brother almost knocked her over with a hug. “Thanks, sis.” He then handed her his rope and charged for the passenger door. The two waved good-bye as they drove out of the lane.

T
HREE HOURS LATER, NATALIE STOOD OUTSIDE AT THE GRILL, WAITING FOR
their company to arrive. With her eyes peeled on the gravel road, she watched for Jared and her brother, who were late.

As she turned the sizzling T-bones, Libby's yellow car pulled into the driveway.

The woman stepped out of the sedan, dressed in a pink shirt and jeans that would make any other woman in her mid-forty's look like a bag of cotton candy. Oddly enough, the outfit wasn't unappealing on her stepmother.

Libby lugged her suitcases to the grill and deposited them on the ground.

Natalie glanced at the luggage. “How long do you plan to stay?”

The woman flapped her hand in the air. “You know me. I don't know how to pack light.”

Natalie's question remained unanswered. “I've invited Jared Logan to join us for supper. I hope you don't mind. He took Dillon into town, but they should be back any minute.”

A grin molded onto Libby's face. “The young pastor? How delightful. The two of you are quite friendly.”

Natalie didn't miss the suggestive undertone in the woman's voice. “He's been a good friend to all of us.”

The back screen squeaked open, and a few minutes later Chelsey joined them. Natalie handed her sister the long handled utensil. “Here Chels, will you finish cooking these steaks while I help Libby get settled?”

Her sister frowned, her eyes on Libby. “Sure, order me around like a slave.”

Natalie sent her an apologetic smile and amended her request.
“I'm sorry, will you
please
finish these steaks while I help Libby with her suitcases?”

The girl shrugged and poked the meat with the stainless steel fork. With a sigh, Natalie carried the two heavy cases to the house, then up to her father's bedroom. She'd done her best to make the room attractive by adding fresh sheets and a more feminine blanket for a bedspread, and Chelsey had gathered some wildflowers to put in a vase. She wasn't sure why she was trying so hard to please the woman, except that maybe there was a small part inside that still longed for her love.

Libby followed her into the room and bounced on the covered mattress. Her tanned face cracked into a smile. “Seems like just the other day I shared this bed with your father. We had some good times, he and I.”

“All I remember are two crying babies wondering why their mama left,” Natalie said. “Kind of makes those good memories fade in the background.” She peered at the woman masked in heavy make-up. “Why did you leave, Libby? Where did you go?”

“I understand you're perturbed with me. And that's okay.” Libby scooted off the bed and braced Natalie's shoulders. “I can't get over how much you've grown. Why, you've turned into a beautiful lady, Nat, just beautiful. What can I do to make things up to you? I'd like for us to be friends. Do you think that would be possible?”

Natalie stepped away from the woman. “How about if you answer my question? Why did you leave?”

Her stepmom's forehead wrinkled. “I don't expect you to understand. You were so young back then. You didn't know how things were between your dad and me. When we married, it was more for convenience than love. Don't get me wrong. He was a good-looking man, and I was plenty attracted.” A thin eyebrow shot up as though remembering.

“But he tended to be…how shall I say…overbearing?”

Natalie agreed that her dad had been strict, although she'd
watched some of that strictness wane as he'd gotten older. After all, he'd allowed Chelsey to date a senior in high school, something he would never have done when she was that age. “What are you saying? That he didn't love you? Or that you didn't love him?”

Libby pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her purse and held one between her fingers. “Mind if I smoke in here?”

Natalie scowled. “Yes, I do, actually.”

“Well, I've been trying to quit, anyway.” The woman smiled awkwardly as she tucked the cigarettes back in her purse. “What I'm saying is, our relationship was complicated. After your father and I had been married a while, we decided we wanted different things.”

Natalie scoffed. Yeah, her dad wanted to be married and Libby didn't. Her dad wanted to raise a family and she didn't. The comparison could go on. “What I remember is that you came home one day from shopping, and you grabbed your suitcases and left. You never looked back. How could you do that to us?”

Libby pressed her lips together and went in search for something else in her purse. After a few seconds, she drew out a piece of gum. “Like I said, I don't expect you to understand.”

Natalie was quickly tiring with the discussion. If they were going to manage this temporary living arrangement, she would have to get a handle on the situation. “For the record, I agreed to let you stay here for Dillon and Chelsey, so they'd have a chance to know you. I never had a second chance with my mom, and I couldn't refuse them theirs. But I'm not going to pretend that everything's okay. If I sense even a hint of trouble, you'll leave. I don't want the kids to carry the pain I've had. I won't do that to them—just so you know.”

Libby wandered to the dormer window and looked out at the pasture. “Tell me about this Jared guy. You say he's joining us for supper? If you ask me, the young pastor has his eye on you.”

Natalie balked at these words. Agitated, she spotted some folded towels on a chair and moved them to the dresser. “He wants to help our family. He considers us his little mission project.”

“Seems overly fascinated, if you ask me.”

“Generous with his time is more like it.” Natalie checked her defense of the man. Jared didn't need defending and certainly not from her.

“You're a beautiful young woman, Nat. I've been around enough to know when a man is interested…and believe me, this man's interested.”

Natalie pursed her lips. “That's ridiculous. He's a friend—a pastor.”

“You don't think pastors fall in love? If you don't watch out, pretty soon you'll be going to Bible studies and making food for bake sales.”

Natalie shook her head. “I don't do bake sales.”

Libby leaned back in a hearty laugh. “One thing I've learned in this life, is never say never.”

Natalie checked her watch again and glanced out the window toward the gravel road. “I have no idea what's taking them so long.”

“Maybe you've put too much faith in this new pastor, letting him whisk Dillon away on a whim.”

“It was hardly a whim.” Natalie again found herself defending the man, but she did wonder where he was. Jared assured her he'd be back in plenty of time. Which meant one of two things—he'd forgotten, or there was trouble.

J
ARED PRAYED OVER MR. WILSON IN THE HOSPITAL BED. THE ONLY OTHER
people in the room were his wife and daughter, weeping beside their newly departed loved one.

Though his heart went out to the woman, he thought briefly of Dillon waiting patiently in the room outside. A noise stirred from behind, and Jared turned to see the boy watching from the door. He patted Mrs. Wilson's shoulder before leaving. “If you need anything, you have my number.”

“Thank you, Pastor Logan. I could never have gotten through this without you.”

“I'm glad I could be here. I'll call again tomorrow to see about going over the service arrangements.”

When he reached Dillon's side, he checked his watch. “Your sister is going to kill me.” He groaned but took comfort in knowing he had a good excuse for being late—and for not calling, though he'd tried the house two times.

The boy continued to stare at Mr. Wilson's body. “Is that what you do as a pastor? Be with people when they're dying?”

Jared prodded Dillon down the corridor. Hospitals were always so cold and sterile. As a new pastor, Jared had spent only a few hours in
hospital waiting rooms, and they weren't his most pleasant experiences, although sending one of his members off to meet his maker was indeed an awesome responsibility.

“Did that man know he was dying?”

Jared opened the exit door of the Charris County Hospital and inhaled the fresh air. “Yes, he knew. We visited several times while he'd been in the hospital.”

Dillon turned quiet and sober. “What's it like to die?”

Jared studied the boy. “Are you thinking about your dad?”

“Natalie never wants to talk about it, but sometimes I wonder if Dad is watching over me, if he can see me here, and if he's in heaven. You believe in heaven, right?”

It never ceased to amaze Jared the many reactions people had about heaven. Some even thought the dead were transformed into angels—or worse, into animals. “Of course, I believe in heaven. And if your dad believed in Jesus as his savior, then he's in heaven. It's that simple.”

He ruffled the boy's hair and unlocked his car door for him. “Tell me something, Dillon. Do you believe in heaven? Do you believe in Jesus?”

Dillon got into the car and thought about it for several seconds. “We don't go to church, but I've heard people talk about it,” he said as Jared climbed into the driver's seat. “I remember Willard and Dad talking about church stuff. Do you think Dad believed in Jesus?”

“I don't know, Dillon. We can hope so.” He started the engine and headed for the edge of town just as the sun began its descent in the west, casting a reddish glow against the hills, with the purest blue sky above. A good day for going home.

Images of the grieving family and all the plans necessary in arranging Mr. Wilson's funeral soon overshadowed the peaceful contemplation. Jared swallowed the knot that formed in his throat and forced his mind to concentrate on the sunset, glad to call this place his home, for however long God intended him to stay.

“Can I ask you something?”

Jared nodded, learning to brace himself for such questions, as they almost always provoked a deep reaction.

“Do you like my sister?”

Jared eyed the boy in the passenger seat of his car. Dillon's question had been sincere, not an ounce of teasing in his expression.

“Yeah, she's all right—for a girl.” Jared winked, trying to lighten the mood.

“She's pretty, don't you think?”

The boy didn't fight fair. “I'd say she's about the prettiest woman I've ever seen.”

A wide grin spread on Dillon's face, and he nodded in agreement. “You don't have a girlfriend, do you?”

Jared cleared his throat, fearing where this chain of questions might lead. “No, I don't. What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”

Dillon wrinkled his nose.

“Good answer. You're too young to like girls.”

“But you like girls, don't you?

“I like them just fine.” Jared grinned. “As a pastor, I have to be particular about the women in my life. I can't date like other men. You understand that, right?”

Dillon stared out the window, silent. “I wish you could date Natalie.”

Perspiration gathered on Jared's back. “Why don't we listen to the radio? How about the oldies?”

Dillon shrugged. “Dad liked country music. His favorite singer was Merle Haggard.”

Jared tuned in to a country station and turned the volume down. “You miss your dad a lot, don't you?”

The boy didn't answer, quiet for a moment. “And now our mom's coming back. Did Natalie tell you?”

“Yeah, I heard. How does that make you feel?”

His mouth tilted to the side. “I've been trying to imagine what
it'll be like having her around, but I can't figure it out. Natalie's the closest thing to a mom that we've ever had.”

Jared patted Dillon's narrow shoulder, thinking a lot of weight rested there. Maybe what the boy needed most was someone willing to listen. “It'll be all right. If you ever want to talk, I'll be around. Your sister asked me to help with the haying this summer.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and there's always fishing. If you need to get away—you know, from the
girls,
you can come hang out with me.”

A wide grin spread on Dillon's face and his mood lightened. “If you're a preacher, how come you know so much about farming?”

Jared shook his head. “I don't know much. What I know, my granddad taught me—like your dad taught you.”

“Do you miss him?” The young boy sought Jared's eyes, his own pain raw.

“More so now. Seems there are a lot of reminders here in the country.”

With the understanding of someone much older, Dillon pushed the radio dial to its previous station and cranked up the volume to a John Mellencamp song.

The heavy bass vibrated in Jared's ears, but he knew the lyrics and they were good. “I was born in a small town,” he sang out, believing music often served as the best medicine for a hurting soul. Soon Dillon joined in loud and strong.

A
GLIMMER OF CHROME SHOWN THROUGH THE KITCHEN WINDOW AS
Natalie prepared to serve the dessert Chelsey had made. She checked the clock above the refrigerator. Over an hour and a half late. She stormed out the kitchen door and down the back steps to meet them.

“Where have you been? Do you have any idea how late it is?” She caught her brother as he climbed from the car and finding nothing physically wrong, turned her wrath on Jared.

“You said you'd bring him home early. Did you forget?”

“No, of course not,” Jared said without his usual smile. “Something came up that I couldn't walk away from. I tried to call, but your phone was busy.”

Natalie groaned, wondering if Chelsey had been on the phone. “I don't know what it's like where you come from, but out here, if you tell someone you're going to do something, you do it. Besides, you could have called my cell.”

Dillon tugged on her elbow. “It's not what you think, Nat. Mr. Wilson died.”

She shook her head at the alleged misunderstanding. “What?”

“We were getting ready to leave when Jared got the call from the hospital. Don't be mad. It wasn't his fault.”

Natalie turned to Jared, aware of Libby lingering on the porch. “Is that true?”

The dark shadows under his eyes stood out now. “It's no excuse for not contacting you. We couldn't remember your cell number, but I should have kept trying the house. I'm sorry we worried you.”

At his apology, remorse washed over her. Swallowing her anger, she went straight to the kitchen to collect the extra plates on the table. “We were just getting ready to eat the dessert Chelsey made, but I can warm your supper in the microwave. You must be starving.”

Jared followed her to the counter. “Thanks for understanding.” He took the white stoneware from her hands, and their fingers brushed against each other.

Conscious of his touch, Natalie set the dish in the microwave, recalling the words Libby had spoken in the bedroom. Her cheeks flushed with heat as she waited for the food to warm. Could Jared be interested in her? At the microwave's ding, she stabbed the T-bones and set each on a plate, careful to avoid the man's face. “Was Mr. Wilson a friend?”

“A member of our congregation. A nice old man, and a man sure
of his destination.” Jared's voice came to her soft and fatigued, and wrapped around her like a warm embrace.

“All this talk about death gives me the creeps,” Libby said from the table, having apparently overheard their conversation. “It lingers over us like the smell of dead fish.”

At the woman's voice, the warm embrace evaporated, leaving Natalie cold and unattended. “Really, do we have to discuss this while we eat?” She busied herself with wiping off the counter.

Jared took the plates to the table and sat down with Dillon. After a quick prayer, he and her brother tore into their food as though they hadn't eaten all day. “Death isn't something to fear,” he said. “We'll all die one day. What's important is that we not waste the time we're given. To live the life we're called to live.” He winked at Natalie and smiled. “Some people are called to be pastors, and some are called to be pageant queens.”

Natalie tossed the dishrag into the sink, wondering if he was making fun. She turned her attention to Chelsey's cake displayed on a glass pedestal. Her sister had outdone herself, creating a real work of art with curls of grated chocolate scattered on top of the three-layer dessert. It looked almost too pretty to eat.

“If that's true then I must have been called to be in rodeo,” Libby said.

The woman's boastfulness grated on Natalie's nerves and she tried to hold back her condemnation. Had God not called Libby to be a mother? Or had he called Natalie to be the mother instead? The entire situation irritated her to no end. She ran a sharp knife through the chocolate layers, then licked the fudge frosting from her finger. “Who needs more ice?”

“I'll have some, thank you.” Libby held out her glass and glanced around the room. “Where did Chelsey go, anyway?”

“She's probably on the phone.” Dillon answered with his mouth full. “I thought you were going to ground her for that?”

Libby stared up as Natalie dropped a piece of ice into the woman's glass, causing the tea to splash onto the table. “Ground her? From talking on the phone? Surely not.”

Natalie added a few more cubes to the glass. “Chelsey is grounded, but not from phone calls—yet.”

Jared cleared his voice. “Not to interfere, but it might be wise to at least monitor who she talks to.”

“Yeah, I bet she talks to Lucas ten times a day,” Dillon said.

“You think?” Natalie's hand stalled in the air. What good did it do to ground the girl from the boy if she was just going to talk to him on the phone all day…or night? She returned the container of ice to the freezer, and feeling incredibly inept, slipped out of the kitchen to find Chelsey.

Her sister lounged on the stairs talking on the phone, just as Dillon suspected. Natalie motioned for her to end the conversation.

Chelsey rolled her eyes. “I'll have to call you back,” she said to the person on the other end. “My warden is giving me the look.”

After a few seconds, she closed the connection and stared up at Natalie with a vile expression that bordered on hatred. “What's the matter? Can't I even talk to my friends now?”

“Jared and Dillon are here. We're ready to serve your cake.”

“So what? You could eat without me.”

Natalie clenched her teeth, tempted to strangle the mouthy teenager. “We have guests, Chelsey, and one of them is your mother. I don't think it's too much to ask for you to give us your attention for one night,” she said, hating the sound of her voice. When had she turned into such a disapproving nag?

“How come you invited Pastor Jared, anyway? Aren't we around him enough, without him eating with us? Besides, I didn't think you liked him.”

“Why do you say that?” The question lingered in Natalie's throat.

“Whenever he's around, you end up arguing. All you do is fuss.
You didn't used to be so mean. What happened to you, anyway?” Chelsey rose from the stair step and moved past, clipping Natalie's shoulder in a huff.

Natalie couldn't argue with the truth. She'd been angry a lot these days. The fact that she'd been angry, angered her even more.