Home To You. Cheryl Wolverton

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СКАЧАТЬ By the time a person reached the edge of town, it seemed like wilderness—nothing for miles except the many cattle ranches and a few farmers who grew wheat or cotton.

      Dakota had grown up in the house he lived in now. A two-story whitewash, it had a front porch and a swing. Two huge maples stood in the front and a weeping willow and a vegetable garden graced the backyard. The garden had always been his mom’s favorite; she loved digging in it, but right now, as autumn deepened its hold, the garden was barren.

      “Speaking of the church, it’s actually doing very well,” Dakota returned to the conversation. “With you back in town you might consider coming there if you don’t find another church.”

      Chase hesitated. “Let me get moved in first.”

      Because his car had broken down, Dakota had been forced to break his luncheon appointment. But as luck would have it, he’d seen Chase and they’d ended up having lunch together.

      His friend wasn’t the joking, laughing person he’d remembered. His letters hadn’t revealed just how much Chase had suffered since his wife’s death. Dakota wondered if he’d backed off from God spiritually as well.

      “Shenandoah sure has grown since I’ve been gone.”

      Dakota nodded. “I guess twenty years ago everyone thought moving to Fort Worth was the way to go. Now everyone’s escaping back out to the small towns within a few hours of the big cities.”

      “Too much corruption and pollution in the big cities.”

      “Just why did you move back, Chase?”

      Chase had been one of Dakota’s best friends growing up. In tenth grade he’d had to move away, but they’d kept in touch over the years through regular mail and e-mail. Last year Chase’s wife had died, and Chase had been left to raise their daughter alone.

      “You mean besides the job as deputy sheriff?”

      Dakota nodded as Chase pulled up at his house. “It looks just the same…except for the two old ladies standing in your yard.” Chase nodded toward the house.

      Dakota followed his gesture and groaned.

      Chase grinned. “What’s up with them?”

      “That’s the Mulgrew sisters. Mary and Margaret. They live next door. Don’t you remember them?”

      Chase’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute…you mean they’re still alive?”

      Dakota nodded. “Alive and well and out to take care of me now that my mom is visiting Susan and helping take care of the twins.”

      Chase unsnapped his seat belt and jumped from the sedan. Dakota followed suit. Reaching into the back of the car, he grabbed one of the two boxes he’d put in his car, intending to bring them home before his transmission had given out.

      “I’ll help you with those,” Chase offered.

      “You just want to see what the Mulgrew sisters have to say.”

      Chase chuckled, the first real laugh he’d heard from his friend since meeting up with him again. “They were a pair back then.”

      They started up the leaf-covered sidewalk toward the house. Mary and Margaret both wasted no time in hurrying toward them.

      The shorter of the two, Mary, her light blue hair distinguishing her from her older (by only a few minutes) sister, who had silver hair, started forward. “It’s awful. I told her she shouldn’t be up there, but she just laughed in my face, didn’t she, sister?”

      Margaret nodded. “And rather rudely. She’s had a nip.” Margaret motioned with her hand, as if tipping a bottle up, and then dropped it into her other hand, clasping them, worrying the white hankie that was in her other hand. “Bless your mother’s heart. If she saw that she’d turn white with shock.”

      “Not sister and me though,” Mary added. “I do say, it is shocking, but then, we grew up in poverty and saw worse back then, though you didn’t flaunt it.”

      “Well, you did if you were one of them,” Margaret lifted an eyebrow to match her superior tone.

      “Margaret,” Mary admonished.

      Dakota raised a hand. “Um, excuse me.”

      Both women turned from each other to look at him expectantly. Before he could say a word, however, Margaret launched back into her speech. “We thought about calling the police but then, you are a pastor and are supposed to have mercy and we decided you’d probably seek out a homeless shelter—”

      “Or something,” Mary added, not to be left out.

      “I’m not sure…that is…” Dakota began trying to decide what to address first in all they had just said. These women had a way of turning his dark brown hair a bit grayer with every meeting. He was certain those first few gray hairs he’d found the other day were attributable to conversations like this.

      “Have we met?” Margaret interrupted, staring oddly at Chase. “You look familiar.”

      Chase cleared his throat. “I’m Chase Sandoval, ma’am.”

      “Oh, yes!” Mary nodded suddenly. “You were that boy that liked to ride his bike through our yard.”

      Chase actually blushed to the roots of his hair. “Oh, yeah, I’d, um…forgotten.” He cast a look at Dakota, hoping for help.

      Dakota was still trying to figure out why he’d want to contact a homeless shelter.

      “We certainly didn’t forget,” Margaret told him. “I always worried you were going to grow up to be a hoodlum. Looks like you turned out good—unless you’re here for counseling from Pastor Cody.”

      “Pastor—”

      “Cody…” Dakota acknowledged. “They’re the only ones who still call me that name.” He smiled patiently. “But he’s not. Here for counseling, that is. Which brings us around full court. Can you tell me, ladies, why I might want to call a homeless shelter?”

      The sound of his swing creaking brought his head around to his porch—and his jaw dropped.

      A woman, no more than five and a half feet tall, stood up. It wasn’t just a woman though, it was…he glanced at her outfit and saw why Margaret and Mary had worried about who was on his porch.

      Moving past the two women, he headed toward the steps and slowly climbed to the porch. Father, guide me, he prayed silently, wondering how this woman had found his address.

      Her black skirt hung at an odd angle and stopped just above her knees—it might have once been a possible accessory to a business suit. However, one boot was missing a heel, and her sweater hung off one shoulder, nearly exposing areas that Dakota had no business seeing. Her hair was ratted, big enough a bird’s nest could hide in it, and the smeared and caked-on makeup on her face easily added a pound to her weight—her very light weight. Her high cheekbones were gaunt, and her bleary eyes stared out at him from under mascara-smeared lids.

      He didn’t miss the bottle СКАЧАТЬ