“I know I’m not, but I found you. Finders keepers and all of that childish stuff. And besides, you don’t want to ride with Doc Parker.” He leaned close as he said it. “He’s had so many speeding tickets, they’re about to take his license.”
“Thank you,” she said, smiling at his warning. No matter how she felt at this moment, she wasn’t alone.
* * *
Alex walked with Marissa to his truck. A breeze kicked up, blowing dust across the parking lot. In the distance the ambulance turned on its siren, and he could see the flash of blue lights on the horizon. The woman standing next to him shivered violently as if a cold arctic wind had just blown through her. He reached into his truck, grabbed his jacket off the seat and placed it around her shoulders.
He didn’t think it was the breeze that had chilled her. He’d watched her in Doc’s office. He’d seen the moment that past met present—her eyes had darkened and the color had drained from her cheeks. He recognized a person getting hit head-on by a painful memory. It had happened to him more than once.
There were days he could still hear his teenage self tell his father he wouldn’t last five seconds on the bull he was straddling. His father had laughed and said, From your lips to God’s ears.
Thirty seconds later his father was gone. His last words, a whispered, You were right.
He had his past. It appeared Marissa might have her own.
He wouldn’t pry because he didn’t let anyone pry into his memories. He helped her in the truck and then he got in and started it up. She was still stoic, still dry-eyed.
“Did you charge your phone?” he asked as they pulled onto the road.
“I’ll have to buy a charger.” She averted her gaze and concentrated on the passing scenery.
There wasn’t much to Bluebonnet Springs. Main Street with its few business, the feed store and his aunt Essie’s café. On the edge of town there was a convenience store and a strip mall with a couple of businesses. The rest of the town was made up of a few churches and a couple of streets lined with houses that had been built a few decades ago. There was a new subdivision being built in the east end of town. That had caused quite a stir and given the lunch crowd at Essie’s something to talk about for a good month.
A city utilities truck was parked on the side of the road.
“They’re putting up the Christmas lights,” he told her, because the silence was deafening and he didn’t know what else to say.
“Christmas isn’t my favorite holiday.” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean it like that. Christmas is difficult for my family.”
“I’m sorry.” He sped up as they left town. “It’s a big deal here in Bluebonnet.”
She gave him a questioning look.
“Christmas,” he responded. “They love Christmas in this town. They have a big community service. There are four churches in the area and they all come together and each one has a play or music. The whole month of December the shops are open late each Friday. They serve cookies and hot cocoa.”
“That does sound nice,” she answered. “Maybe I’ll be around for that. If not, I might come back. We typically don’t do a lot at Christmastime.”
He wanted to ask her about her family, maybe even wanted to know why her blue eyes clouded with emotion as she told him that bit of insight into her life. But he knew better than to dig into someone else’s life. He knew from his own past that families all had their private stories. After his dad died, his entire family had avoided attending church. Specifically, they’d avoided the Church of the Redeemed, the church their father had pastored with an abusive hand.
Maria, the youngest Palermo, hadn’t lived through much of Jesse Palermo’s craziness, so she hadn’t struggled with her faith. The oldest, Lucy, had found it a little more difficult. Alex had found his way to a church service after a bull-riding event. He believed that service probably changed his life and set him on a new course. His twin brother, Marcus... That was a whole other set of problems.
The woman sitting next to him had shut down a little after the topic of Christmas so he wasn’t going to push.
He usually had something to say, a joke to crack, anything to ease the tension. But he couldn’t find that old ease, not with her. What could he say to a woman he didn’t really know? All he knew was that she’d been jilted on her wedding day. She was Dan’s granddaughter. And she didn’t really care for Christmas and he didn’t know why.
Somewhere out there she had people who did know her. She had people who would have the right words. And they had the right to say the words she needed to hear.
“Do you want to use my phone?” he offered in the silence of the truck. “To call family?”
“That would be good. Thank you.”
He handed her his cell phone. And then he listened as she spoke to her mother, explaining where she was and how she’d come to be there. At the end of the conversation she told her mom she would keep her posted on her grandfather’s condition.
She ended the call, then ran a shaky hand through her now short hair. The brown layers were chunky and framed her face, making her eyes large and luminous. He took the phone from her, their fingers touching in the process. Blue eyes met his and she smiled.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
He reached to turn up the radio. The classic country station was playing George Jones. A typical song about heartache.
“So, you’re a teacher?” Suddenly he felt the need to fill the silence. He shot her a quick look. “Good thing you aren’t a beautician.”
Her laughter was soft but genuine. She glanced in the mirror on the visor. “Not my best work. After this, I’ll stick to teaching the alphabet.”
He gave her another a quick look. Yeah, she looked like a teacher. The kind that wiped faces, hugged kids when they fell and made math seem fun. He’d had one or two teachers like her. The teachers who looked past the rough-and-tumble little boy and told him they thought he mattered.
Those teachers had inspired him. He’d managed to achieve a few goals thanks to their tutoring and encouragement.
Soon they were nearing Killeen and the hospital. Marissa appeared lost in her own thoughts and he doubted he wanted to go where she’d gone.
It didn’t take a genius to realize he was knee-deep in this woman’s life. For some reason he kept wading in deeper. For a guy who prided himself on keeping to his goals and priorities, that came as a surprise.
The last thing he wanted was the worry that he wouldn’t be able to help her. He didn’t like the feeling of letting someone down. Or, worse, the moment when someone looked him in the eyes and told him not to worry about it, he couldn’t have done anything to help.
“You don’t need to sit at my bedside,” her grandfather mumbled. Something about the growling words seemed half-hearted to Marissa. Or maybe it was wishful thinking on her part. Maybe she wanted him to need her. Or she wanted to try to make up to him whatever it was he’d lost when her grandmother left.
“I know I don’t need to be here.” She moved the chair closer to his bed. “I want to be here.”
He shook his head. “Do-gooders, always trying to make up for what other people did wrong. Like Alex over there. He’s trying to make up for that crook of a father he had. You’re trying to make up for your grandmother walking out on me. What the two of you need to do is take yourselves off and live your own lives. Not together, mind