Sugar Plums for Dry Creek & At Home in Dry Creek (34 page)

“It could be Carl,” Barbara said as she rose, too.

The two women walked to the back room.

The phone call was from one of the men working at the Elkton ranch. He'd been trying to call his sister in Miles City. It was a wrong number.

“Tonight of all nights,” Mrs. Hargrove muttered sympathetically as she put her arm around Barbara
and they walked back toward the main part of the church.

The church had long windows that rose above the pews on both sides. They were frosted so no one could see through them clearly. In the front of the church there was a large cross.

Barbara felt she'd found a home here tonight in this church. Even if she didn't find all of the answers she needed, she'd found a comfort within these walls. She didn't walk reluctantly back to the main room. Mrs. Hargrove had told her they called the room the sanctuary and she thought it was a fitting name.

The pastor's study was joined to the sanctuary by a hall, and the two women had almost finished walking the length of the hallway when the door at the back of the sanctuary opened. Barbara didn't see the door open because she was still in the hallway, but she heard it.

“Mommy,” she heard Bobby's voice call out softly.

“Oh,” Barbara said as she ran through the doorway and into the sanctuary. At the back of the room Bobby stood with his hand in Carl's. Amanda was curled up asleep in Carl's other arm.

“Oh,” Barbara said again as she raced down the aisle to meet them.

Bobby let go of Carl's hand and flung himself into Barbara's arms as she knelt down to hug him.
Barbara breathed in the smell of her boy and ran her hands over his back and his arms to be sure he was okay. By then Amanda had awakened and was reaching for her mother as well.

“Thank you.” Barbara looked up to Carl as she held her arms out for Amanda. “Thank you so much.”

Carl nodded. “We arrested the man who had them, and I still have some paperwork to do that will require me talking to them, but, for tonight, you can take them home and put them to bed. They've had a long day.”

“Thank you.” Barbara repeated herself. She wished she knew something clever to say to thank Carl, but she didn't. “Thank you so much.”

Barbara spent the rest of the night just watching Bobby and Amanda sleep. She had such a sense of gratitude for their well-being. It didn't seem sufficient just to thank the sheriff. She knew that part of to night's rescue was due to the prayers and concern of the people of Dry Creek as well. She didn't even know how to thank the sheriff adequately; she had no idea what so ever about how to thank God. For now, she'd just have to be content with the feeling she had that He knew. Tomorrow, she'd ask Mrs. Hargrove to help her say a prayer of thanks.

The next morning dawned slowly. A pink blush swept the sky before gray clouds pushed it away. Barbara had baked goods she needed to prepare for
today and the children had school. Perhaps, though, she thought, they all needed a day of rest. Barbara would do the standing orders for the bakery, but she would keep the children home from school. In fact, until she found out more about how they had disappeared from school, she wasn't sure she was comfort able with sending them back anyway.

Bobby was the one who told Barbara how it all happened. The bus had gotten to school a little earlier than usual and Bobby had followed Amanda off the bus. Amanda was the one who first heard the man in the car saying he had a message for them from their father. Amanda started to walk over and Bobby followed her.

“I was like Daniel,” Bobby informed Barbara proudly when she served him some scram bled eggs at break fast. “I just trusted God that no lion would get me and Amanda.”

“There's no lions around here, silly,” Amanda giggled.

Barbara was glad Amanda didn't seem to realize the dangers they had faced.

Barbara had already hugged her children so many times last night and this morning that Bobby was becoming indignant about it. Instead of giving him another hug, she smiled at him. “I trusted Him, too.”

Barbara wondered if trust always came from desperation.

“I trusted the sheriff too,” Bobby added, his eyes shining. “And his gun. He had that gun aimed right at the man who took me.”

“I'm sure the sheriff is very careful with his gun,” Barbara said. “Guns are not toys.”

Bobby nodded. “And he let me run the siren on the way home.”

Barbara smiled. It was good to have her children back.

S
everal days later, the sheriff stood at his closet door and wondered what to wear. He was worse than some debutante at her first ball. He'd pulled his suit out and it was lying on his bed. It didn't seem the right thing to wear for what he had in mind. He'd already passed on wearing his uniform.

He had an old T-shirt from a Miles City bowling league he'd joined once. He supposed that made him look like a man who had interests, but he'd only bowled a few games before he realized he didn't really like rolling a ball down a lane.

He had a few white cotton shirts that he wore with his suit, but they seemed a little boring when all was said and done.

That left the denim shirt and jeans. He was wishing now he'd bought the shirt with the pearl snaps instead of the ordinary buttons. He hadn't realized until he
started to get dressed tonight that he had such an un exciting wardrobe. Oh, well, the denim would do, even with the buttons. It would be getting dark before long anyway.

It was Saturday night, and the sheriff was taking Barbara to dinner again. He was more nervous than he had any right to be when she'd already decided she only saw him as a friend. But, the night was clear and full of promise. It was warm enough that everyone knew spring was really here. And women some times changed their minds.

He'd seen Barbara every day this week, and each time she'd thanked him for what he'd done to bring her children back. The sheriff tried to tell her he'd only been doing his job. It hadn't even been difficult really. The tip on the antacid wrapper had led him to the Country Market, which had led him to the motel next door. The motel clerk had said the man in unit 314 had brought two children with him on this trip. All the sheriff had needed to do was go knock on the door.

The day after the children came home, the sheriff and Barbara had both sat with Bobby and Amanda while the sheriff asked questions for the report he needed to file. When the sheriff had mentioned his suspicions about the money she had, Barbara had willingly told him about selling her wedding rings. She'd even shown him the receipt the pawnshop had
given her before telling him once again how very grateful she was.

“You don't need to keep thanking me,” the sheriff had said for the third time that day. “It's my job to arrest kidnappers.”

“It wasn't your job to let Amanda wear your hat on the way back,” she'd said. “Or to tell Bobby what a brave boy he'd been.”

“Well, they are brave kids,” the sheriff pro tested. “I wouldn't lie to them.”

“I know,” Barbara said with another smile. “That's why I'm thanking you.”

The sheriff had waited all week for the thank-you's to die down. He didn't want Barbara to feel so grateful to him that she stopped being herself.

The sheriff looked at himself in the mirror. The denim shirt did look a little plain, he thought, as he reached for the brass name tag that the department had issued him. This might dress it up a bit.

Before he left the trailer, the sheriff picked up a manila envelope that was on the bookcase by his door. He also picked up the long-stemmed red rose he'd bought earlier today in Miles City. The rose had one of those little tubes on the end of it and the clerk had told him the rose would stay fresh for hours with no other water. It's amazing what nature could do, the sheriff thought as he closed and locked his door with one hand.

As always, he paused on the steps of his trailer and his eyes strayed to that spot in the trees where he planned to build. Before long, the grass would be growing there. He might even plant a rose bush over there now so it'd be mature when he got around to building the log house.

 

Barbara sat down at the oak table that she had bought to replace the folding one. She'd bought four chairs to go with it as well. Some times she sat down at the table just for the sheer pleasure of running her hands over the wood top and feeling how sturdy it was. Mrs. Hargrove had given her four place mats for the table and Barbara kept one under the vase she'd bought and kept in the center of the table.

Spring had started to warm up Dry Creek. Barbara had seen a few stalks of grass in the past few days. Before long, there would be flowers around and she'd bought the vase so she'd be ready to pick some wild flowers.

Thoughts of spring had flooded Barbara's mind since Bobby and Amanda had been returned to her. She felt as though her heart was shooting up a few stalks of grass just like the ground in Dry Creek was. The ground had been frozen all winter, but now, when the sun was shining, it sent up a couple of stalks to see if the season was really changing.

Barbara knew that, for her, one of those stalks
was her hope that maybe she'd been wrong about God. She'd seen the concrete love and concern of the people in the church here and she couldn't help but wonder if what they believed was true. How else could these people care so much about each other?

Barbara looked at the clock. Mrs. Hargrove had invited Bobby and Amanda to spend the night at her house so Barbara had the rare luxury of getting dressed without needing to worry about the children. She still had twenty minutes before Carl was due to pick her up for dinner.

Maybe she needed to do something different with her hair, she thought as she stood up. Earlier she'd thought that she should just leave it down. But maybe it would be better to put it up in a twist. And she needed to change her earrings, too. She'd gone from silver dangles to gold posts.

By the time she heard a knock at the outer door, Barbara was wearing black bead earrings and her hair was pulled back with a black clip.

The sheriff noticed right away that Barbara had done something different with her hair. “It looks sophisticated.”

Barbara smiled. “Thanks.”

The sheriff fretted all the time he and Barbara walked over to the restaurant. He should have worn the suit. Barbara looked too well-dressed for his denim. Women were sensitive to things like that. If
he wasn't so worried about his clothes, he would have noticed the activity in the café sooner.

“Oh,” Barbara said when the sheriff opened the door to the café for her.

The sheriff grimaced. He hadn't exactly expected the solitude they'd been granted on their last date, but he hadn't expected a convention either. It felt as though every person in Dry Creek was eating in the café tonight.

“It's busy,” Barbara said.

The sheriff nodded. Neither one of them had even stepped inside the café yet. “I suppose we should close the door.”

The conversation from the tables was a loud rumble. Linda was writing on a small tablet as someone called out an order for chili fries.

“Come on in,” the pastor called out from the table where he sat with his wife, Glory, and their twin boys. They were all eating platters of hamburgers and fries.

Once the pastor had greeted the two new comers, no one else bothered.

The sheriff and Barbara stepped inside and closed the door.

“Is the café running a special?” Barbara asked.

“They always have a Saturday-night special,” the sheriff muttered. “I thought it was to encourage couples to date a little.”

One of the pastor's twins threw a plastic catsup bottle to a boy at the next table. Somebody some where turned up the music. It was a children's song.

“Maybe it's family night,” Barbara said.

The sheriff looked around. There wasn't even a free table for them to sit at. He felt like a fool carrying this rose in his hand. Were people so blind they didn't see that here was a couple on a date?

“You're welcome to sit here,” Jacob called out from one side of the room. “I can fit you in.”

Jacob was sitting at a small table like the one the sheriff and Barbara had had the last time they'd had dinner here.

“Thanks, but we'll wait for a table,” the sheriff said. The sheriff decided maybe people hadn't seen the rose. He held it up a little higher. He figured he could live with the teasing he'd take tomorrow morning in church if it would get him a little privacy tonight.

“Suit your self,” Jacob said. He didn't even look at the rose. “But there's plenty of room.”

“You're welcome over here,” Pete Denning called from his table.

The sheriff couldn't help but notice that Pete had a big table all to himself right next to the kitchen. It looked as if Linda had draped her apron over the other chair at the table.

“Ah, come on.” Pete waved them over. “I've got
an idea for that campaign slogan you've been working on.”

“We have a slogan al read y,” Barbara said.

“We do?” the sheriff whispered. They hadn't worked on the campaign any more. He thought maybe Barbara had for got ten about it. He knew he had.

“Yes,” Barbara nodded. “It's Vote for Carl Wall for Sheriff.” She turned to the sheriff. “We'll put
Carl Wall
in big letters. These people need to learn your name and start using it.”

The sheriff grinned. He couldn't argue with that.

The sheriff figured no one was ever going to notice the rose he held.

“It's a nice night,” the sheriff whispered to Barbara. “And there are stars out. We could just get some hamburgers to go and sit out side.”

Barbara nodded. “At least it will be quiet enough to talk.”

 

Barbara couldn't help but notice that even though she'd said she wanted it to be quiet enough for talking, she couldn't think of anything to say once she and Carl were outside with their bag of burgers and fries. They were sitting at the top of the church steps and there was quiet all around them. The church had a small light outside its double doors, and someone had turned it on tonight. The light was
small enough that they could still look up and see the stars.

Carl had brought a rug out of his trunk that he said he used if he needed to slide under some one's car to repair it.

“It's clean,” he assured her as he spread it on the landing at the top of the steps. “I have another one I use if the job is going to involve grease.”

Barbara nodded. “You're too kind.”

Carl had asked for an extra plastic cup and he'd set the rose up in the center of a napkin that he'd spread for them like a table cloth. The rose was the perfect touch. Barbara wondered what he had in the envelope he carried.

They ate in silence.

“The hamburgers are good,” Barbara finally said.

“It's the cheese,” Carl agreed.

There was more silence.

“I haven't thanked you yet for dinner,” Barbara said. “It's delicious.”

“You don't need to thank me,” Carl said with a grimace. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About the campaign?”

“No.” Carl frowned. “Actually, the only reason I agreed to a campaign anyway was to spend time with you.”

“Oh.”

Carl nodded. “I would have campaigned for my competition if I had to in order to spend time with you.”

“Oh.”

“Of course, I don't have any competition.” Carl was quiet for a moment. “In the campaign, that is.”

“Well, it's a good thing,” Barbara said with a smile. “You'd lose for sure if people saw you campaigning for someone else.”

“You're not upset?”

“No, I think I'm flattered.”

Carl was quiet for another minute. “There are some things about me you don't know.”

“Do you want to tell me?”

Carl nodded. “I was raised in foster homes. A whole bunch of them. One after another. I don't think I'm very good at family stuff. Don't know how it's done.”

Barbara smiled. “There are days when I'm not sure I know either. But, if you're asking my opinion, I have to say that you've been wonderful with both Amanda and Bobby. Bobby practically idolizes you.”

“He's grateful,” Carl said. “He was scared, and I'm the one who got him out of it.”

Barbara shrugged. “That's most of what parenting is.”

Carl was silent for a moment as he took another
bite of his ham burger. “Have you heard any more about old man Gossett renting you his place?”

“Mrs. Hargrove says his nephew is real sick, and Mr. Gossett is thinking the nephew and his family might want to move here. Good air for the children and all that.”

“I'm sorry it's not for rent.”

Barbara nodded. “I expect they'll wonder why that fence is painted so nice and white when the house is all weathered.”

Carl grunted. “Never heard of anyone complaining about a free paint job.”

Barbara sighed. “I think it was the fence I liked so much about the place.”

“I have a fence.” Carl's face paled. “I mean, I don't have a house like you'd want, but I have a fence.”

Barbara got very still.

Carl was silent for a minute. “I told you I wasn't very good at this kind of thing. I had it all thought out in my mind, and now I got ahead of myself with the fence so I may as well just spit it out.”

Carl swallowed hard. “I live in a trailer, so it's nothing fancy. It suits me fine, but I know it's no house. The thing is, though, that I've got plans all drawn up for a log house that could be built on my place. I brought the plans to show you later. The house would be right back in the trees and it'd be no
trouble at all to put a fence around it. I know you're real set on a good house.”

“I—” Barbara started.

Carl took a quick breath and kept going. “Let me finish. I know you don't see us as being anything more than friends. But things can change.”

“I—” Barbara began again.

“I'm not asking anything right now, so if that's what you're thinking, you can rest easy,” Carl said. “I figure you need a full year of grieving before you're over your ex-husband, and I got time to wait.”

“I—” Barbara began again and was surprised when he let her keep talking. “Well, I—let me see. First, I know that a house is just a house. It is the people who make the home. Second, yes, things can change. And, third, I'm grieving for my lost dreams, but not my ex-husband. The man doesn't even care about our children.”