Lone Star Holiday. Jolene Navarro
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packing that littered the backseat.
Yeah, it pretty much represented her life with Brent in L.A., all pretty and shiny on the outside and chaos on the inside. Now with no gas, the expensive machine sat on the side of the road, useless.
She leaned inside and picked up the Bible. The handwritten note from Aunt Maggie stuck out, purple and tattered around the edges. She didn’t need to read the words as they were etched in her memory. Matthew 11:28, Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Those words had brought her back to Texas, to the closest place she had ever called home. She had been working so hard to prove herself, but somewhere along the way she had lost sight of the big picture.
“You have a note from Maggie.” He nodded toward her Bible. “Which verse did she send you? I have a full collection.”
Unaware he had approached, Lorrie Ann blinked to clear her thoughts. Did Aunt Maggie send these notes to everyone? Not sure how that made her feel, she laid the Bible back in the car. “She’s always looking for ways to help.”
He nodded. “She’s a prayer warrior. We’re blessed to have her.”
This all felt very surreal. In the world she just left, no one spoke of God and prayer, let alone Bible verses. And if you did, they’d only laugh and make some witty cut-down.
She pulled in a deep breath. “I need to be going. Thanks so much for your help.”
“I’ll follow you into town. The closest gas station is the mercantile. We can stop there and get you filled up then head out to Bill and Maggie’s farm.”
“Oh, no. You’ve done enough.”
“It’s on my way. I can’t look your uncle and aunt in the eye if I don’t make sure you’re delivered safe and sound.” He winked at her. “See you in town.” He stepped back and walked to his truck.
Okay, then. Her knight in denim remained on the job. She shouldn’t like the idea. Slipping into her car, Lorrie Ann turned the key and pulled back onto the road. With a glance at her rearview mirror, she watched John follow her.
Scolding herself, she muttered, “Remember, Lorrie Ann, your short-term goal is to get your life back in order and get back to work. A boyfriend’s not even on the long-term list.”
* * *
John Levi turned on the radio. Music he had shut out five years ago filled the cabin of his truck. His fingers tipped the guitar pick hanging from the rearview mirror. Carol, his wife, had given it to him when they were still dating. He watched the heart she had drawn on it swing back and forth. It was the only piece of his music career he kept after her death. The pick reminded him of what he had taken for granted.
The sporty car in front of him pulled out, and he followed. Lorrie Ann Ortega was a surprise, and any pull he felt had to do with her needing help. Through her aunt and mother, he knew her past, and now he saw the wounded look in her eyes. She needed encouragement and support. He could do that for her.
He tapped his fingers along the cracked steering wheel.
* * *
Holding the phone in her hand, Lorrie Ann wavered calling Aunt Maggie. What if she didn’t want her? Her mother hadn’t wanted her. Now that she was an adult, her aunt and uncle had no responsibility to help her.
As she came into town, she eased on the brake. A burst of purple and silver stretched across Main Street and covered every storefront window, each proudly supporting the Fighting Angoras football team.
Homecoming week. The day after graduation, she’d made sure to tell everyone that she would never be back. How ironic that she return the week of the homecoming game. Some rituals never changed. Lorrie smiled. An unexpected comfort washed over her. Not a single fast-food or chain-store logo cluttered the skyline.
Her phone vibrated. With clenched teeth, she battled the urge to throw the phone out of the car again. She imagined running over it until nothing but dust clung to her tires.
She wanted to leave everything in Los Angeles behind, long enough to figure out her life, anyway. The band had taken the holidays off. Could she develop a new-life action plan in less than four weeks?
Pulling next to the aged gas pumps, Lorrie Ann pushed the button to roll the top back over the car. She took a deep breath, slid out of the car and straightened her spine.
Her hands shook slightly as she adjusted the oversize shades. Lorrie Ann ran a manicured finger over the convertible top of her Z4 BMW. Definitely not the hand-me-down Dodge she had driven away in as a scared teenager.
She took a slow surveillance of the single-street town. A group of old ranchers still sat in front of the feed store. Their never-ending game of dominoes was as much a part of the landscape as the giant oaks.
John parked his truck on the other side of her. “Here, let me fill her up for you.”
She was not used to men offering to do things for her unless they wanted something. It made her a bit uncomfortable. She noticed new construction at the end of the street, an unheard-of occurrence in Clear Water. She gestured to the site, causing her bracelets to jingle. “What’s being built? Looks like a regular building boom for Clear Water.”
He nodded and smiled at her as he held the gas nozzle to her car. “The churches have banded together to build a new youth building.”
A gleam came to his eyes, reminding her of a proud parent. Bringing his gaze back to hers, he continued, “There’s still some fundraising that needs to be done, but enough has been raised to get the building started.”
“Wow, I’m impressed.” She cut a glance toward him again. He turned his gaze on her, started to say something and then looked away.
The silence stretched and got awkward. She bit her lip. Say something, girl.
“Um...so are you involved in the project?”
“It’s my goal to see it done before summer.” Nodding, he stepped back and replaced the nozzle. “Well, your steed is fed. I’ll walk you to the store.”
She couldn’t hold in the giggle. Did she just actually giggle? Lorrie Ann took a moment to savor the joy.
“Thank you.” She slid a glance to the old ranchers, now openly staring at her and the cowboy. She waved at them. “Hi, boys.” Swinging back to her knight in faded denim, she winked. “Think they appreciated the show?”
He laughed. A real laugh not measured or managed.
“They enjoy anything new to talk about. Are you good? I could wait.”
“No, I’m fine. I need to pick up a few items, then I’ll make my escape to the pecan farm.” Yep, she had become very skilled at running. “Thank you for the escort.”
He looked right into her eyes, and for a second she forgot to breathe. She had the sensation he saw past the makeup and fashion to the real her.
“It’s a true pleasure meeting you, Lorrie Ann Ortega. Welcome back.” He tipped his hat and pulled open one of the glass double doors to the mercantile for her. A little bell made a sweet musical sound.
He gave her one last wink. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Can’t hide in a town this small.”
The door closed, and she turned and watched through the large storefront windows as he walked away. Once he disappeared from sight, she noticed the flyers in an array of colors taped everywhere, announcing cabins for rent, hunting leases available and horses for sale. Well, she was back.
A loud squeal filled the air followed by a high-pitched voice. “L.A.? Lorrie Ann. Oh, my, it is you!”
Lorrie Ann cringed at her old nickname. No one had called her L.A. for years. She found herself ambushed in a tight hug by a tall woman with big blond hair. Knocked off balance, Lorrie Ann grabbed the girl’s arms. A death grip kept her from moving