A Bridge Unbroken (A Miller's Creek Novel) (4 page)

She lowered her head as a heavy breath escaped. Only a small measure of the tension which stiffened her shoulders receded. He obviously didn’t recognize her. Dakota lifted her head and smiled. “You don’t remember me, J.C.?”

His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. “Amy? Is that you?”

Hearing her old name still affected her in strange ways. Did that person even exist anymore? “Yes sir.” She held up the bags of food. “I brought lunch like I promised. Mind if I come in?”

“Not at all.” The door swung open. “Come on in this house and give me a hug.”

As she entered the room, he engulfed her in a tight embrace. Even through his heavy duty flannel jacket she felt his bones. J.C. had grown old and frail in her absence.

He pulled away, eyes full of unshed tears, gripping an IV stand with one hand.

She quickly shifted her eyes away and sucked in a deep breath. Seeing him so feeble was something she hadn’t prepared for. Unable to look at his face for fear of crying along with him, or at the bag hanging from the aluminum pole on wheels, Dakota opted instead to stare at her feet.

“When you didn’t stick around after Levi's funeral, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.” J.C. shuffle-stepped to a green recliner and slowly eased down into it. “Please have a seat anywhere.” He waved a bony hand toward the same orangey-brown plaid sofa she remembered from the time she'd spent here years ago.

Dakota quickly moved to the couch and took a seat, finally able to look him in the face. “I’m sorry you’re not doing well, J.C.” She couldn’t stop the tears that pooled in her eyes.

“Aaah.” Again he waved a hand. “Just part of growing old.” A light sprung to his eyes. “Won’t be long ‘til I go home to see Jesus, Sarah, Levi, Bo, and a whole host of others I've been longing to see for a while now.”

She gritted her back teeth to bring an end to the tears, a trick she’d learned from her years with Kane. Whatever she could do to take her mind off the resulting emotional pain.

He cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, why'd you leave so quick after the funeral? You didn’t even stay for the graveside.”

Where did she start? Her aching heart over losing her beloved Pawpaw? The fear of facing Chance? The terrible way her sister continued to humiliate her? “Lots of reasons, actually. I guess I couldn’t deal with facing certain people.”

“Let me guess. All of them?”

She nodded.

“I don’t mean to hurt you more than you’ve already been hurt, Amy, but someday you gotta lay down that load of bitterness, resentment, and hurt feelings.”

Tears returned and dripped down her cheek. This wasn’t like her to cry at the drop of a hat. Must be the fatigue from yesterday. That and the kind and caring way J.C. had of putting his finger directly on the pulse of the problem. “I know. It just takes a while to get over some things.”

“You’ve had a few years now. Maybe you’re trying to do it in your own strength instead of letting the Lord help you.”

The words lodged in her brain and trickled down to her heart. There was truth in his comment. “Thank you, J.C. I’ll certainly give it prayer and thought.”

He leaned forward and patted her arm. “Didn’t mean to make you cry. Just want to see you move past all the pain from your childhood. Carrying it around just weighs you down and keeps you at a distance from others.”

The lump in her throat made it impossible to speak, so she nodded instead.

“Chance loved you, you know.”

His softly-spoken words slid like fiery ice down to her stomach, her muscles now frozen in place. The air grew thin. Dakota opened her mouth to gulp in a breath. Finally her words found voice. “I loved him, too.” She inhaled another deep breath and released it. “But sometimes love just isn’t enough.”

J.C.’s expression revealed he didn’t believe a word of what she’d just said, but thankfully, he changed the subject. “You staying at the farmhouse?”

Again she nodded, still working at regaining her composure.

A slow smile crept to his face. “Figured you were.”

Dakota lowered her head and looked at him sideways through narrowed eyes. The sly old codger. He’d sent Chase out there to check on her. “So you’re the one who told Chase to come check on me at the crack of dawn.”

Now he laughed out loud. “Guess I did put a bug in his ear.” His face sobered. “You need to borrow some money to get the electricity turned on and put propane in the tank?”

She clamped her lips together and shook her head vigorously. Only here a few minutes and already he was offering handouts. “No. I’ll take care of that on my own.”

“Don’t mind you living there. You’re welcome to live there as long as you like, free of charge.”

Dakota frowned and puzzled over the statement. “But I thoug—”

“—that the farm belonged to you?”

“Or at least belonged partially to me.”

“Levi’s will left it to you with a few stipulations.”

She swallowed. “Such as?”

“You had to be present at the reading of the will.”

Her heart plummeted, her dreams of a reclusive life ripped to shreds with a few words. And she had nothing to say in return. There was no excuse. It was her own fault.

J.C.’s kind eyes held understanding. “I tried to find you, but when you left town, you did a good job of covering your tracks. Your sister gave me a few snippets of information, but nothing that helped me locate you. She sent me your phone number just last week.”

Her insides froze and took her lips along for the ride. Well, it wasn’t too hard to figure out what those ‘snippets’ Angie had given him might be.

J. C. shifted in his seat, a grimace on his face, as though trying to find a comfortable position. “He left the furniture and money to Angie, but not the farm. Said it belonged to you when you got your life in order. Until that time it’s under my jurisdiction.”

Dakota’s shoulders heaved upward, and the tightness in her shoulders multiplied.

“So do you have it in order now?”

Her gaze met J.C.’s. Though his eyes still held kindness, there was also a certain reproach to his words that knifed through her.

“Yes sir, I think I do.”

He studied her for a long minute, and then leaned his head back against the recliner, his eyes closed in obvious pain. “Based on our earlier conversation, I’m not sure you do. But stick around, live at the farm, and come see this old geezer from time to time. Once I’m satisfied you have what it takes to stay in one place for any length of time, the farm will be yours. In other words, no running away, no matter how hard it gets.”

Dakota allowed the words to sink in. If Kane or one of his thugs showed up, she'd have no choice, but that was the least of her worries at the minute. The farm was far more important. She raised her eyes to his, pleading. “J.C., I don’t think you know what that farm means to me.” Her very life could depend on it.

“Oh, but I think I do. You just need to realize how hard your grandparents worked for that place. I won’t give it to you for you to up and leave anytime you get hurt and angry.” His voice remained kind and steady.

“But what happens to the property if you don't give it to me?”

“I have the option of doing with it whatever I choose.”

At just that moment the front door swung open and Chance entered, his eyes trained on her.

One look at his face and she knew he’d heard every word.

“Home to check on me?” J.C. directed the question to Chance.

He nodded, but then returned his blue-gray gaze to hers.

Was that a look of triumph she saw in his eyes? No matter how kind and wise J.C. was, if it came down to deciding between her and his grandson, Chance would surely win. The thought left her cold.

J.C. stood. “Well, you needn’t have bothered. I’m fine.” He tottered toward the hallway. “But I am feeling a bit tired. Think I’ll take a nap. You two enjoy your lunch.”

Neither one of them spoke for what seemed like an eternity to Dakota. She for one couldn’t find words. And she couldn’t look at him either. The scars on his face prevented it. She was too afraid of giving in to her soft side and letting her guard down. And she certainly didn’t want to set him off the way she had early that morning.

Finally Chance broke the silence. “I’ll leave if you want.”

Something in his voice sliced into her heart. Loneliness? Coming from Chance Johnson, who'd always been the life of the party and loaded with friends? Maybe it was time to start making some of the changes J.C. suggested. She shook her head and motioned for him to have a seat. “It’s not necessary for you to leave. We’re adults now.”

His eyebrows shot upward. “Well, I sure didn’t see that one coming.” He took a seat while she opened the bag, but she could feel his eyes studying her.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s impolite to stare?”

“Just trying to figure you out.”

“Surely I’m not that complicated.” Dakota tore apart a chicken leg and nibbled around the bone. She'd always been simple. On the other hand, he was Mr. Complicated and had been as long as she'd known him.

* * *

Chance begged to differ, though he kept his opinion to himself as he nabbed a chicken wing and took a bite. He’d never met someone so complicated, so buried beneath layers and behind walls she’d built one lonely brick at a time. Based on what he’d overheard in her conversation with Grampa it was time to get some answers, but he’d have to possess surgical precision to extract them without sending her back into her hole. For now she at least seemed open to sharing lunch with him. Was it because of the farm? Or because she felt sorry for him? “Mind me asking why you changed your hair?”

Her green-eyed gaze pierced through him. “Why is my hair color so important to you?”

Good question. Why did it matter? “I asked first.”

“So what? I asked second.”

He released an exasperated sigh through his nose. Amy obviously wasn’t going to make this easy on him. “Just thought it was pretty when it was blond.”

Her face hardened. “So you think it’s ugly just because it’s red?”

“Quit putting words in my mouth.” Chance tried to nonchalantly eat his chicken wing to put her at ease. Right now she looked like a balking mule, ready to kick him in the shins. He eyed the clock. The new hospital administrator, who already had a reputation for being hard on nurses, had been kind enough to let him take his lunch break at home. It certainly wouldn’t be wise to abuse the privilege, but he also needed answers. “Wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to go incognito because of some hidden danger.”

He meant the words as a joke, but Amy’s hands immediately grew restless, like she wasn’t sure what to do with them, and she avoided all eye contact. She didn’t respond to his comment, but picked up her soft drink, yanked off the plastic lid and straw, and took a big gulp. Obviously, he’d hit the nail on its proverbial head, but exactly what danger was she in?

When she finally looked at him again, her eyes, loaded with compassion, went straight to the scars. More proof that his scars only elicited sympathy from available women. “What happened to your face?”

Now it was his turn to squirm uncomfortably. How like her to move the focus to him when she felt vulnerable. As far as the scars, well, he didn’t want to go into all the details at this point. That was information best kept to himself for the purpose of guarding his heart. But at the same time, if he opened up a little bit, perhaps it would encourage her to do the same. “Car accident soon after you left. Honestly don’t know how I escaped alive.”

Amy’s green eyes darkened to the color of emeralds, full of angst and compassion. “I’m so sorry, Chance, but I’m glad the Lord protected you.”

Her tender words touched him in a way he hadn’t expected, and he struggled to keep his composure. The fact that she’d mentioned the Lord in such a personal way gave him hope. Maybe she belonged to God after all, something he'd questioned on more than one occasion over the past few years. Something he'd prayed for her specifically when she came to mind. Finally he found his voice. “And He’s used it for good in my life since then.”

She nodded. “I think we naturally shy away from difficulties, but God uses them to grow us closer to Him and help us depend on Him.”

His eyebrows floated to the middle of his forehead. One thing he’d never expected to hear from a woman with a bad reputation was godly wisdom. Curse words perhaps, but not this. Maybe he’d stumbled across a new common ground between them. But what suffering had she endured to grow so wise? The thought gnawed at his insides. “Went to see Mama Beth this morning after I left the farm. She said something similar.”

“Mama Beth?”

“Our local wise woman. Been through a lot. Lost her husband last year.”

“Oh, yeah, I met her. Trish’s step-mom.”

The way she grimaced let him know she was sorry she’d made the comment. But why? “She mentioned she’d met you. Said she remembered you having an uncommon name.”

She grew dead-dog still, her gaze lowered, her lips pinched, lost in thought. At last she heaved a sigh and looked at him directly. “I do go by a different name now, Chance, but I won't explain why.”