Betting My Heart

Two horses were too many for this town.

That’s what my dad would have said if he’d been alive to see me driving through this tiny little mountain town in western Virginia. One of a thousand country adages he used so regularly that, even though I’d grown up in New England, I could spew like any southerner.

Between the old-style clapboard storefronts and the raised wooden sidewalks, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see an honest-to-goodness tumbleweed blow across the road. The steam pouring from underneath the hood of my old Nissan was probably obscuring the view.

I huffed out at a breath, letting the bangs left over from my last salon trip ruffle and settle. At the same time I felt them fall over my brows—time to get a cut—the engine gave a final wheeze and died.

“Dammit all to kingdom come,” I muttered. Another of Daddy’s favorites. I blinked back the sting of tears, shoving all that aside in favor of the problem at hand.

I managed to coast the old beater to the shoulder before it finally came to what I had a feeling would be its final resting place—especially if the burnt smell was any indication. I thought back to the last sign I’d seen on the county route I’d exited. Grayson. I was on the outskirts of a tiny little town called Grayson County.

I double checked the map I’d brought—a paper map, which the gas station clerk had offered when he’d pointed out how horrible cell reception was out here. Glad I’d listened. I was still about ten miles out from my initial destination where I’d meet with a client tomorrow. Another fifteen after that from my second—and real—reason for leaving my home in Connecticut for this tiny little hick town in the middle of nowhere and … well, I hadn’t really intended to go there today.

In fact, if I could’ve avoided John and Sharon DeWalter forever I would do so gladly. But I’d made a promise. To the one person I knew I could never let down. Still, I didn’t intend to make the rest of the trip on foot.

I re-folded the map.

“Close enough,” I said on another sigh. Seemed I was destined to do a lot of heavy breathing on this trip.

I got out of the car, trying my best to ignore the oppressive sunshine that seemed way too hot for May and way too concentrated for the northern tip of the south and popped my hood for a look at anything salvageable. It would’ve been a better idea had I known what I was staring at.

Steam rose, escaping in thin tufts between cracks until the moment I pulled the sheet of metal upward. The heavy cloud thickened and encased me like the aftermath of a mini-bomb. Or, at least that’s what it felt like as I coughed and hacked the smoke back out of my lungs.

“You okay?”

I whirled and found a guy around my own age, broad-shouldered and jean-clad, watching me with concern. He was a few years older than me, good-looking in a quiet sort of way, with kind eyes. His smile was easygoing and straightforward with no trace of flirting, and for that I was glad. I’d had enough of that at various stops along the road.

He was simply friendly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I managed as the haze of smoke rolling off my engine finally cleared.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

I faltered. According to my parents who’d grown up here, people in these towns tended to know their neighbors, and I wasn’t quite ready for a homecoming just yet.

“Jordan—just Jordan. And you are…?”

“Ford O’Neal.”

If he was put off by my awkward introduction, he didn’t show it. “I was coming out of the hardware store and saw your engine trouble.” He gestured first to a clapboard shop on the corner with blue peeling paint and then back to my deceased Nissan.

Back home in New England, the sight of a guy showing up roadside unannounced would make me wary. But here, and underneath the brilliance of the sun and his open smile, I felt relaxed. Either that or Small Town Syndrome was kicking in. Something in me wanted to trust people.

I kicked at the car. “Yeah. I think it’s finally breathed its last.”

He gestured with a nod. “Frank’s place is on the hill. Best garage around. Maybe they can revive it.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” I agreed. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Can I give you a lift?”

“Uh, no, I’ve got it. I think my legs could use a stretch anyway, thanks.” I moved away, already walking so he couldn’t insist. Good-looking or not, girls didn’t get into strange trucks with guys. I could practically hear my mother lecturing about that one.

“Straight up that way. And good luck,” Ford said, nodding up the gravel hill before heading to a vintage Chevy truck. I watched as he fired it up, backed out. He waved one last time. I raised my hand to return the gesture and watched him drive off, spitting a cloud of dust. His vehicle ran, dammit.

Resigned and determined not to sigh any more today, I swiped my bangs aside and started up the hill. Then I doubled back and grabbed my phone and my bag before resuming my trek. While I walked, I dialed Gavin.

“Hello?” a male voice said.

“Fourth ring. I thought I had you that time,” I said.

“I told you I’ll always answer for you. What’s up? Did you find the place where your client lives?”

“Yeah, I found it,” I told him, already breathless halfway up the hill. Damn, it was hot. “Or, the town anyway.”

“And?”

“And it’s small. Like, miniscule.” The phone was already sweaty against my ear.

“One horse?” he asked.

I snorted. “Half a horse.”

Gavin chuckled. “I’ve always wondered what half a horse looked like.”

I didn’t bother responding. I was too busy focusing on not passing out. Since when was May in Virginia the seventh circle of hell?

“You okay?” he asked. “You sound winded.”

“The Nissan might’ve gone to sedan heaven. I’m walking to the local mechanic to get a second opinion.”

“Well, shit, sis … You loved that car.”

I kicked at a rock, hating how the loss of my car brought up other feelings of loss. Like losing Dad six months ago to cancer. How did a car possibly compare? And why did I always want to cry at the worst times? “I know,” I mumbled, not trusting my voice.

“Too bad you build houses, not cars, or you could fix it yourself.” Someone stirred on Gavin’s end of the line, decidedly female, but Gavin shushed her. “You need me to come there?”

I ignored Gavin’s companion, too used to it by now. “No. It’s fine. We’d already decided this is for me. It just puts me here a little longer, maybe, but it doesn’t change the facts. I’m here to work and to see Sharon and John and … put it to rest.” At the top of the hill I sucked in a deep gulp of air and resisted the urge to bend at the waist or wheeze. “I’m here. I’ll call you later.”

Gavin hesitated. “All right, but keep me posted. You know if you need me, I’ll put in leave and be there before you can say ‘your favorite brother.’”

“Gav, you’re my only brother.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not the best.” I rolled my eyes at that but Gavin lowered his voice to add, “Seriously, just stay in touch, okay?”

“Okay.” My stomach cramped at the thought of doing this alone, but I shoved it aside like I’d been doing. I was here—to see a family that hadn’t wanted me to begin with. And I was doing it alone because that’s what Dad had wanted.

“No matter what, I love you. Don’t forget it.”

“Ditto.”