Valerie Hansen - Shadow of Turning

“She has? Why?”

Lowering her voice, the older woman took him aside to explain, “Her folks were killed by that tornado that blew through here a couple of years ago. Remember it?”

“Sure. It mostly took the tops out of the trees. If I remember right, it was only an F-1 on the Fujita scale. I didn’t realize Chancy’s parents were involved.”

“Well, they were. She took it pretty hard when she lost ’em both at once. She’d been on her own for a while before that but I think she blamed herself just the same.”

“For an accident of nature? Why would she feel responsible?”

“Because she wasn’t there to talk them into taking cover, I reckon. Her ma and pa used to fight all the time and she’d do her best to calm ’em down. I wouldn’t be surprised if those two hardheaded parents of hers were squabbling with their last breaths.”

Nate nodded. “I see. Thanks for telling me. It’ll keep me from putting my foot in my mouth.”

In the background his grandfather cackled. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. You did a fair job of eatin’ your shoe when you were talkin’ out in the yard a few minutes ago.”

Chancy grabbed her shoulder bag, used her cell phone to quickly explain to her friend Louella what had happened, then called the sheriff to end the stolen-vehicle search.

Slamming the van door, she glanced at her reflection in the dusty side mirror. Any lipstick she’d had on in the morning was long gone and the ever-present freckles on the bridge of her nose stood out like spots on a hound dog. She looked about sixteen and felt at least fifty, maybe older. What a day this had been!

Pausing to remove her dusty sweatshirt and smooth her hair, she tried to convince herself it didn’t matter what she looked like. She was among friends, people who would accept her as she was. That was one of the things she liked best about living in a place like Serenity. Folks took each other at face value.

Then again, Nate Collins wasn’t exactly a run-of-the-mill resident, was he? He was as handsome as any man pictured in magazine ads and twice as interesting; him with that dark, wavy hair and those coffee-brown eyes that seemed to see right into her. Too bad she didn’t look at least as presentable as usual, wasn’t it?

Disgusted that she’d even think about wanting to impress Nate, she stuck out her tongue at the image looking back at her from the small mirror. Who cared? Certainly not her. As a matter of fact, she was glad she was so plain and natural-looking. Hopefully, that would convince him she wasn’t interested in him the way so many of her contemporaries had been when he’d lived here as a high-school senior.

In a way, Chancy felt as if she’d suddenly reverted to the awkward girl she’d been back then, particularly in the pit of her stomach. For some reason her long-banished teenage butterflies had reappeared and were creating a storm of flutters the likes of which she hadn’t felt for years. That was silly, of course. She was far from being a child and had plenty of hard-earned maturity to call upon in a situation such as this.

She straightened, squared her shoulders, tugged the hem of her T-shirt over her jeans-clad hips and headed for the house. If she hadn’t been worried about hurting Hester’s and Ted’s feelings she’d have climbed into her van and driven away. The notion was appealing. Then again, it wouldn’t accomplish a thing in the long run. She still had to deal with Nate long enough to get her auction purchases unloaded from Ted’s truck. Besides, everyone was waiting for her in the kitchen. The only gracious thing to do was swallow her pride and join them.

She patted the dog in passing, then entered the house and started across the small living room, following her nose toward the delicious smells coming from the country kitchen. In the few strides it took her to get there she laid aside her purse and reclaimed her confidence.

“Sorry if I kept y’all,” she said brightly, concentrating on Hester. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not a thing,” the older woman said with a smile. “Table’s set and everything’s hotted up. Just grab a chair and let’s eat.”

Ted was already seated at the rectangular dining table at one end of the kitchen. Nate held a chair for Chancy then tried to do the same for his grandmother.

She shooed him away. “Nonsense. I got work to do. Y’all just sit down and let me take care of this.”

Ted laughed. “Might as well mind her. When Hester gets a bee in her bonnet she’s as stubborn as a mule.”

Apparently amused by the mixed metaphor, Nate waited while she made two more trips to the table carrying a bowl of mashed potatoes and a dish of dark gravy with a ladle. Then, she settled into a chair next to her husband and Nate took the only remaining place, next to Chancy.

Chancy felt as if someone had plugged her finger into a fence charger. She knew if her hair hadn’t been pulled back into a ponytail, it would be standing straight up. The fine curls at the nape of her neck certainly tickled enough!

She kept her eyes on the red-and-white checkered tablecloth as she carefully placed a paper napkin across her lap. Off to one side she saw a flash of movement. Nate had started to reach for his fork, then had stopped abruptly.

She blinked nervously and bowed her head as Ted began to say grace over the food. Obviously Nate wasn’t used to praying before a meal and had nearly forgotten that his grandparents always said grace. How strange it must seem for him here. And how sad it was that he didn’t really fit in, that he probably never had. No wonder he was so determined to get his family to leave Serenity.

Her personal unease forgotten, Chancy began to pray silently for him. Lord, Nate has missed so much. Please show him how happy we are here and help him to understand, to share in what we’ve found.

Those simple thoughts calmed her fears and replaced them with an amazing tenderness toward the man beside her. It wasn’t she who needed to remember that she was acceptable just the way she was, it was Nate. For all his worldly polish and education, he was still needy, still on the outside looking in. Perhaps he always had been.

She would befriend him while he was here, she vowed. And maybe, just maybe, she could help him see why his grandparents were so content; why it was so very wrong to insist that they leave their perfect little home and move to unknown, unfamiliar territory.

Surely, given the facts, Nate would change his mind. After all, he was a thinking human being with the same God-given instincts they all shared. Just because he was a well-educated man didn’t mean he wasn’t approachable. Or did it?

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