Author: Robyn Carr

Dan smiled. He didn’t let on how much it pleased him to be greeted that way. “Thanks” was all he said. “You doing bar duty tonight?”

“Just for a few. Jack’s over at the clinic, loading up Mel and the kids so she can take ’em home. He’ll be right back. Paige is minding the stove while Dana’s in the high chair back there, and Chris,” he said, tilting his head to the far end of the bar where the six-year-old sat, “is doing homework.”

Dan frowned. “Homework? In first grade?”

“Is that crazy or what? Thank Jesus I didn’t go to that school. Man, I had nuns, and I thought I had it rough.” Dan laughed. “It’s not like it’s trigonometry,” he went on. “He’s drawing pictures and making numbers and letters, but still….”

“Still,” Dan agreed.

“Excuse me. I have to check if we’re making progress.” And he wandered down to his stepson.

A moment later Jack was holding the door open for Hope McCrea. She stomped inside wearing her muddy running shoes and lavender sweatsuit with brown stains on the knees. He’d spent a good amount of time talking to Hope. Well, he’d been listening to Hope. It was gardening season for her. She tended a very large garden every spring and summer. Living alone as she did, she didn’t have much use for all her produce, so she gave most of it away and the deer and rabbits drove her crazy, getting in her garden.

She sat up beside Dan while Jack went around the bar and without being asked, poured her a whiskey. Then she pulled out her Marlboros. After a brief hack to clear her throat and lungs, she lit up. “I have news,” she said to Jack and anyone who would listen. “I bought the church.”

“You did what?” Jack asked.

“The church. The Lutherans aren’t sending another minister this way—we’re just too small for their tastes. Or for anyone’s, it appears. I’ve been making offers for six years, but they were set on selling the church to some other denomination. But finally they had to admit defeat—no one wants it. So I lowered my offer, crazy fools. Got it for a song.” She cackled. “Got it for a hymn.”

“Jesus, Hope—are you just richer than God?” Jack asked.

“I have a couple bucks and nothing to do but buy and sell things. So, I’m going to sell the church.” She sipped her drink. Puffed on her cigarette.

“But, Hope—you said no one wants it,” Jack pointed out.

“Well, none of those religions want it. I’m going to sell it on eBay.”

It was silent for a second, then Jack, Dan and Preacher burst into laughter.

“Oh, go ahead and laugh,” she said. “You’ll see. Someone’s going to want a church. That’s a good church. Little roughed up at the moment, but it can be considered a fixer-upper.”

Jack leaned on the bar. “Let me guess—you have some old pictures of that church, right? When it was beautiful, right? And you’re going to float out those pictures and snag some poor rube, like you did Mel.”

“Mel hasn’t complained in years,” Hope said, puffing.

“Mel?” Dan asked.

Jack gave the counter a wipe. “Mel took the job here based on a bunch of pictures Hope sent of a pretty little town and a cabin in the woods she could use for free for a year. Cabin looked like new; town looked thirty years younger. The cabin was probably in worse shape than that Creighton house you’re working on, and the town…? Well, you’ve seen the town. Mel was furious.”

“She’s got a sharp tongue, that one,” Hope said, making Jack laugh.

“So, Hope,” Jack said, “what if satanists buy the church?”

“Good luck to them,” she shrugged. “This would be a real bad town for someone who’s no good to try to make a go of it. I’ll post up old and recent pictures, so people know what they’re getting into.”

“Who’d want a church?” Dan asked.

“Someone who needs to preach, I’m thinking,” Hope said. “Or satanists, who Jack and Preacher will run off and make sorry they ever got the idea.” She sipped the last of her drink, put out her cigarette. “You’re going to have a lot of venison come in the bar soon, Jack. I’m going to shoot the goddamn deer if they don’t get out of my yard.”

“I can’t take illegal venison, Hope. You try this every spring. Why don’t you put up a good fence?”

“I have up a good fence! They jump it! And the goddamn rabbits dig under. Bastards.”

“Now, is that any way for the owner of a church to talk?”

“I just own it, Jack,” she said, pushing up her glasses. “I’m not exactly the religious sort.”

“Is that so?”

“This town could use a little religion, I think.”

“And why is that?”

“Been a long time now, but that church used to be full all the time. Of course, it was full of poor mountain people and there wasn’t any parsonage, so the pastor got himself relocated. Couldn’t hardly feed himself on what poor mountain folk put in the plate. But things have gotten better around here since I was younger. Lotta farmers and ranchers and—” she leveled her gaze at Dan accusingly “—construction workers moved in. They can fill up the collection plate. It’s time to try it again.” She gave Dan a pat on the shoulder and left the bar, scuffling out the door.

Dan looked up at Jack. “That is one strange woman.”

“Oh-ho, she’s peculiar all right. But she’s always thinking about the town. I’d love to get a look at her will. She’s crafty, and I think she must have a ton of money. And no living relatives.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Looking for a wife? Mature woman with big black glasses and mud on her knees?”

Dan laughed. “I don’t think I could drink that one pretty, Jack. But gee, thanks for the tip.”

“How’s it going at the house?”

He sat back. “The landlady showed up today. Now, there’s an interesting woman.”

“She is that.”

“She tells me she was the town drunk,” he said.

“She was,” Jack confirmed. “She got in treatment and seems to be doing great. She’s a whole new person.”

“What was the town drunk like?” Dan asked.

Jack looked upward, thinking. Then he brought his gaze down to Dan’s. “Know what? I’m not going to talk about that. Cheryl is a good person who had a mighty big burden with her drinking. I’ll tell you the truth, I never saw any hope. But I see her now and she’s not the same woman. Honest to God, I would’ve thought that even sober, she’d be a little slow-witted, unmotivated. Damaged. But she seems to have beat the odds—she’s just incredible. I want her to make it.”

“She’s making it,” Dan said. “That’s nice, that you won’t talk about it. Must’ve been kind of bad.”

“Buddy, we’ve all been through bad times we’d like to forget.”

And like an introduction to bad times personified, the door opened and Rick came in, using just a cane for assistance. Dan noticed that Jack frowned before he smiled. “How you doing, son?” he asked.

“Better,” he said, leaning on the cane. “I’m getting used to the cane. Haven’t been on my ass all day.” He sat up at the bar.

Dan turned toward him. “Dan Brady,” he said. “We met once, a long time ago. You might not remember.”

“That’s right,” Jack said suddenly. “The night Paige got snatched! You remember, Rick?”

“Yeah,” Rick said, putting out a hand. “You’re the one who knocked the bad guy out with the flashlight. I’d almost forgotten about that.”

“Sorry about the leg,” Dan said. “You starting to feel okay with the prosthesis yet?”

“Nah, it still hurts some.”

“You watching for breakdown? That can slow you down….”

“You know about this stuff?” Rick asked.

“A little bit. So, you watching that?”

“Not only am I watching it, I go to PT three times a week where they’re watching it. I’m covered. Right now, all I want is to walk without pain.”

“Aw, you’ll get that. Then what?” Dan asked.

“I dunno,” he said. “Jack, what do you think? Think I earned a beer and some dinner?”

“Two conditions. I walk you home and we take something home to your gram.”

“Done,” Rick said, patting the bar.

He was a good nine months away from twenty-one, but he’d lived a lot more than most men his age. And he’d put in a rough week of three PT sessions and two counseling sessions.

“What are you doing around here?” Rick asked Dan.

“Working for Paul Haggerty. What are you going to do? You must have lots of options.”

“I said, I don’t know. Right now, I just have to get a leg. Walk in it. Then maybe I’ll be able to think.”

“There’s always school,” Jack said, putting down a beer and retrieving his coffee cup. “That GI Bill, that’s a great opportunity.”

Rick lifted the beer, took a sip and said, “I’m thinking about it.”

Right away Dan knew, the kid was still depressed and screwed up about the war, the injury, the missing leg. “This little town you got here, Rick—nice little place. I come from down the coast. Sebastapol. Near Bodega Bay. Not exactly a real small town. You grow up here?”

He nodded.

“So, when did you join the Corps?”

Rick looked at Dan. “If it’s okay with you, I don’t feel real talkative right now.”

“It’s all right by me,” Dan said. “Jack, whenever Preacher’s ready with dinner, I’m ready.”

“You got it,” Jack said, scowling briefly at Rick.

While Rick nursed his beer and then picked at his dinner, a few people who came into the bar approached him, said hello and patted his back. Their brows were furrowed as if they were feeling sorry for him and Dan knew, not a great thing to do. Right now Rick probably felt as though that was what he needed, maybe enjoyed it a little, but this kid was tough and strong and pity wasn’t going to help much.

Dan didn’t even see the next group come in. A couple and a girl. They sat at a table near the window. It was when Rick turned and looked that Dan followed his gaze and saw the girl connect with him. Beautiful girl. So beautiful and so sad, Dan was almost jealous for a second. He couldn’t see what Rick’s eyes were doing, but their eyes must have been locked together. The girl’s mouth hung open at first, then closed. She turned to the woman at her table, a small redhead in her fifties, whispered something and then fled the bar.

Rick pivoted back.

Dan gave it a minute before he said, “Now, that was interesting.”

Rick took a slug of his beer. “She used to be my girl.”

“Hmm. Before the leg?”

“Yeah.”

“She can’t deal with the leg?” Dan asked.

Rick swiveled his angry gaze to Dan. “This your business, buddy?”

“Dan. The name is Dan. Just curious. Seemed like she looked really sad, not put off. But maybe I imagined that.”

“She’s not put off, but it isn’t going to work for us anymore. Will that do it for you? Can you leave it alone now?”

“Sure, kid. If that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want.”

Whoa, Dan thought. This is one tough customer. He had enough mad in him to burn buildings.

It wasn’t ten minutes later that the couple, minus the girl, approached Rick. The small redheaded woman put a hand on his shoulder and said, “How are you doing, Ricky? Getting along any better?”