When the outlook is bad, try looking up~~~MOM
The room spun. Plane crash? No survivors?
Cale sat motionless. “Their flight’s not until Saturday. It can’t be them.” Disbelieving quiet pounded Cale’s ears for several seconds. Jesse’s gasp broke the heavy silence.
Mrs. Miller pulled Jesse close.
Phoenix burst into tears. Cale turned. Tears tracked down Luke’s cheeks. Luke hugged Phoenix closer. “It’s okay, Phen. It’s gonna be okay.”
Cale’s gaze flew to the Mrs. Miller, waiting for her to point out that Sheriff Miller couldn’t possibly be right.
One look at the woman’s kind, somber face and blinking brown eyes, and Cale knew she wouldn’t contradict the sheriff.
Sheriff shook his head. “Your dad rented a private plane to take your mom on an outing. The working theory is one of the engines ingested a bird and failed.”
“You’re not alone in this, boys.” Mrs. Miller paused, then cleared her throat. “We’ll help you do whatever needs to be done. Make arrangements for your folks. Help with child care, chores. We’ll be with you every step. We’re here for you, and your baby sister. I took the liberty of calling your uncle Howard. He and your aunt Viv are on their way now.”
Sister? Oh, Brandi. Cale nodded and found his voice. “Where’s Dolly? She needs to be home.”
“She’s still with the Tenneys.” Sheriff Miller slid his hand into the front pocket of his black uniform slacks. “It would probably be better to leave her there for a bit, until the news sinks in. She’s doing fine.”
“No!” Cale stood quickly, took a breath, then repeated in a calmer, steadier voice. “No, sir. She needs to be here, with us. I promised Dad an intactfamily, and that’s what he’s gonna get.” Now that Cale had a plan of action, he could figure out the rest of the craziness. “I’ll go get her.”
The sheriff shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You don’t need to be driving right now.”
“I’ll get her,” Mrs. Miller offered, hugging Jesse before standing. “Cale’s right—they need to be together.” She walked to Cale and held out her arms. Cale resisted until she jutted out her chin and nodded, like Mom had a few days ago. “Let us help you through this, honey.”
She enveloped him in a strong hold for a moment before she put her hands on his cheeks. He stared into her dark, caring eyes. She held his face firmly in her hands, as if she were trying to squeeze her quiet strength into him.
He let her.
She nodded again. “I’ll get Brandi and we’ll deal with what we need to, as we need to.”
“Does Dolly know?” Cale asked, not sure if he wanted the answer to be “yes” or “no.”
“I’m not sure.” Mrs. Miller’s lips pulled tight, then loosened. “Would you like me to tell her?”
Well, yeah ... I sure don’t wanna tell her. She’ll cry a river and drown us all ... and I don’t even believe it. He shook his head and tried to clear the tadpole from his throat. “I should be the one to tell her.”
Maybe if I pretend to tell her, someone will shout, “Gotcha!” before I get too far.
Mrs. Miller leaned toward him. He bowed his head until their foreheads touched. Cale siphoned as much of her strength as he could. She offered a sympathetic smile.
Cale’s heart hammered so hard he half expected it to pop out of his chest.
Mrs. Miller waited for Cale to nod before hugging him again. After she released him, she grasped her husband’s hand and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be back soon.” Her floral perfume wafted on her way to the door, reminding Cale of his mom.
“Be safe,” the sheriff said quietly and motioned Cale to the gray leather recliner.
The sheriff moved to sit next to Jesse on the couch. Luke stayed standing, swaying Phoenix gently with him as they rocked.
Be safe. The words echoed in Cale’s head as he sat. He tried to remember last night’s conversation when Mom called to check on them. Had Cale remembered to say “Be safe” to Mom and Dad?
He went down the mental checklist.
“Luke fed the boys. Thanks for the chicken casserole—it was delicious. Jesse did his math homework. Phoenix studied his spelling words. The chores are done. I’ll make them take showers before bed. Have fun. We love you too. See you soon.”
Cale swallowed hard before croaking, “I only told them to have fun. I didn’t tell them to be safe.” The tadpole in Cale’s throat grew into a five-pound bullfrog.
A puzzled look swept the sheriff’s face before his eyes lit with understanding. “Cale, you didn’t cause this. It was an accident. It just happened.”
“No sir. Dad doesn’t let things ‘just happen,’” Cale snapped, waving away the thought. “Dad makes things happen.”
“Not this accident, he didn’t.” The sheriff’s voice held a firm edge. “Cale, listen to me. No one is to blame. Even if they were, it won’t change anything today. Let’s focus on what we can change and what will need to be done.”
Cale scanned the room, taking inventory of his brothers. Each of them looked to him for a clue as to what that might be. Cale had no idea.
What will need to be done? An image of Mom and Dad laying in caskets in eternal sleep popped into his mind. He cringed and shook the picture from his head.
I’m not going there. I don’t even believe they’re gone—at least, not forever. Dad said they’d be back on Saturday, and Dad always keeps his word.
He looked for Scoot. Or Gramps. Their most trusted ranch hands would know what to do. Whenever Dad wasn’t available, Scoot or Gramps took up the slack.
Thinking of their ranch hands calmed his welling panic until the next question popped out of his mouth. “Do the hands know?” His voice cracked, failing to project the confidence he had hoped.
Gramps had been around since Dad was a teen, a permanent fixture of the ranch, as steady and dependable as the barns, the stables, the bunkhouses, or the house they stood in.
Scoot had come so long ago that Cale had to concentrate to remember a time when their Andy Griffith-like hand hadn’t been a part of their extended ranch family. Scoot’s easy manner had a way of smoothing things out when life’s road was rough and bumpy, especially when Cale and Dad were at odds with each other.
“They’re checking out that new Angus stud of Doyle’s,” Luke answered, his words barely audible.
Oh, yeah. Fresh panic seized Cale’s chest. He stood and fished the pocketknife Dad had given him for his last birthday out of his pocket. He rubbed his thumb over the stainless-steel initials “CMR” swimming in an iridescent turquoise blue.
The cool, smooth acrylic calmed his rising fear. Cale flipped the knife over. A painted brown bear lumbered on all fours in front of a river, much like the scene in real life when he and Dad had hunkered in a hunting blind, waiting for Cale’s first deer. Fear had taken hold of Cale’s heart that day as well, but Dad had remained calm.
“The bear’s a bonus. We came to hunt. Let’s get ’er done,” Dad had said.
Cale swallowed hard, trying to embrace his father’s confidence. You were with me that day, Dad. It’s easy to “get ’er done” when you’re with me, telling me what to do. Cale’s gaze swept the room again, panic swelling more as he caught each brother looking at him for direction.
“You’re the oldest. Your brothers will do what you do. Make it the right thing.” Dad’s frequent admonition flashed through Cale’s mind. He swallowed, rubbed his knife, and searched the family portrait over the fireplace.
Dad seemed to steel his eyes on Cale’s. “We’ve raised you right. You can do this.”
“No, sir. Not without you here,” Cale mumbled, catching a puzzled expression on the sheriff’s face in his peripheral vision.
All the fear, nausea, disbelief, horror, and crushing reality of the situation mounted, turning Cale’s knees to rubber. It took every bit of willpower he had to stay anchored where he stood.
“Cale?” Sheriff Miller’s steady voice brought little comfort against the blood pounding in his ears. “It’s going to be all right.”
My parents are dead! How’re you gonna make that all right? Cale clamped his jaw shut so he couldn’t scream the question, even though mounting hysteria clawed inside. He searched the faces around him, the idiom “like an elephant in the room” bringing new meaning. His fear grew to the size of the largest bull elephant he could imagine, its enormous ears swooshing mind-numbing terror and anxiety all around the room.
Cale saw the surging panic in the faces of each brother as well. He rubbed his knife harder, trying to keep the intensifying anxiety at bay. Shaking his head, he realized he was losing the battle to steady his nerves.
The elephant swung its trunk and splattered even more fear as surely as a real elephant would spray water.
Cale’s legs quivered. He dropped into the recliner again, catching sight of Mom’s encouraging smile from above the fireplace.
Remember what I’ve always told you. Courage is fear that has said its prayers. Pray. The courage will come.
The words spoke some peace to Cale’s heart … until he took another glance around.
As much as he wanted to kick into ‘big-brother’ mode and make this all better, his brothers’ expectations for him to fix the unfixable mingled with his fear and doubt.
All of it bubbled like baking soda and vinegar and then swelled, thrusting the bitter combination up his throat.
He lunged from the chair and out the kitchen door to spew the mixture away from probing and expectant eyes.
(Please stay tuned for Ch 3)