Lone Star Holiday. Jolene Navarro

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СКАЧАТЬ “Hmm...that’s true.” Fear of what they would say tightened her muscles. She had left town in a swirl of lies started by the homecoming queen.

      He waited a moment with eyebrows lifted. He finally grinned and closed her door. The cowboy walked around to the driver’s side. Climbing into the cab, he continued to grin.

      His eyes stayed focused ahead as he eased them back onto the road. “So what brings you back to Clear Water?”

      “My aunt. Maggie Schultz.”

      “You’re Maggie’s niece, Lorrie Ann Ortega? She didn’t say anything about you coming home.”

      She shouldn’t be surprised he knew her. Her aunt volunteered on about every committee in the small town and had always helped anyone that needed something, including her. “She doesn’t know.”

      “She’s going to be thrilled.”

      Lorrie played with the rip in her shirt. He obviously didn’t know the whole story. “I’m not so sure about that. It’s been a long time.”

      “She’s been waiting for you.” He flashed her a quick glance accompanied by a grin. “Trust me. She’ll be very excited to see you.”

      “How do you know her?”

      He gave a casual shrug and smiled. “We’re at the same church.”

      The big truck pulled up behind her small BMW. “Go open your tank. I’ll get the gas.” With a quick motion, he jumped out of the cab and went to the bed of his truck.

      Leaping down from the side step, Lorrie Ann made her way to the silver BMW. She glanced into her car and cringed. With the top tucked away on her convertible, he would see the mess she had made in her twenty-five-hour run from California—the candy wrappers, huge plastic cups and haphazard 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 СКАЧАТЬ