"
Can I stop by a little later?"
"
I'll be in my pajamas. Maybe another night," Belle said
over her shoulder, as she stepped onto the gym floor and headed for
the door.
"
Belle," Spencer said with force. "You can't keep avoiding
me. Avoiding us."
She turned and waved just before
stepping outside, a weak smile on her lips, and heavy feeling
coating her heart.
***
The Jamison ranch, Bar J, ran
along the southern county line; six thousand acres of rich grazing
land.
Mechanically, Belle turned her
refurbished '57 truck into the homestead's long gravel drive, her
thoughts still on the events of the meeting. She passed the large
river stone, nestled between two tall, thriving cottonwoods and
pulled alongside the barn.
A yipping, panting pack of
Border-Collie mutts greeted her as she cut the truck's engine and
hopped out of the cab. She threw her bag of reunion notes into the
bed and bent down to greet her canine companions.
She buried her nose in Rascal's
black and white mane, scratched Petie and Jasper behind their
pointed ears, smoothed her hand over Scout and Junior's sleek tan
and chocolate colored backs.
"
Got a new one in the litter today," Duke Jamison said,
coming across the barnyard toward the garage.
Belle looked around. A
black, tan and white puppy face with round brown eyes poked his
nose through the crowd with a high-pitched yip. "Where'd he come
from?" she asked, picking up the puppy. His long, pink tongue
slobbered on her face.
"
Found him in a box at the feed store. Looks to be part
hound, part collie. Figured he'd fit in here okay."
Belle laughed at the
puppy's long, floppy ears. "Reckon Chet Guthrie's hound is the
father."
"
Probably," Duke laughed. At seventy-five, Duke Jamison was
the picture of a life-long rancher - lean and leathery. His angular
face fanned into long wrinkles when he smiled, though his blue eyes
were young and vibrant. "How'd the meeting go?"
Belle stepped inside the
barn and gave the dogs a treat before answering. "We finalized
everything," she said, walking with Duke toward the warm light of
the kitchen. An old western tune drifted from Duke's sixty-year-old
radio through an open window, and the easy, tumbleweed melody
comforted Belle. In the lean-to, she kicked off her boots and
followed Duke into the kitchen.
"
What you gonna call him?" Belle asked about the new
puppy.
"
This one's yours to name, I believe."
"
How 'bout Little General? Isn't Chet's hound named
General?" Belle went to the refrigerator and pulled out the pitcher
of sweet iced tea.
Duke nodded his agreement.
"So, you all ready for the weekend then?" he asked, motioning for
Belle to sit at the table as he loaded up their plates with fried
potatoes, slices of seasoned roast beef, and a scoop of green
beans.
Belle waited to answer until her
father had pulled up to the table and offered thanks to the Lord
for the blessing of dinnertime.
As soon as Belle echoed
his Amen, she said soberly, "Burke's coming."
"
Burke Benning?"
"
You know another Burke?"
"
Ain't that something?"
"
Ain't that something?" Belle repeated. "Makes me
nauseated."
"
Still?" His question met with her silent gaze. "It's been
twelve years."
"
Mom's been dead over twenty years. Are you over that?"
Belle gave her dad a hard look.
"
Your mom and I were married for over thirty years. It's not
the same."
"
You still miss her though, don't you?"
"
Can't help it much," he said softly. "I see her every time
you smile."
Duke's reference to
Colleen Jamison's wide, bright smile cut to Belle's heart. "I'm
sorry, Daddy," she relented, tenderly touching his arm.
Duke smiled his crooked
smile. "Aw, it's all right, kitten. I reckon you didn't make plans
for ever seeing Burke again, did ya?"
"
No." She stabbed her meat with her fork.
"
Ya know, I prayed about you and Burke not long
ago."
Belle dropped her loaded
fork. "Whatever for?"
"
It come to my mind while I talked with the Lord. I reckon
you and Burke never had any closure. The door to your heart is
still ajar, leaving room for feelings and thoughts to come and go.
Maybe that's why you haven't let love come near since
him."
Belle sat back in her
chair and rolled her eyes. "Now, where did you come up with a pop
psychology theory such as that?"
"
I don't know anything about psychology, pop or otherwise.
I believe the Lord guided me. I simply prayed, 'Give 'em Your
wisdom, Father. Let Your will be done in Burke and in Belle's life.
My very words."
They ate the rest of their meal
in silence, Belle's mind churning with questions she could not
answer. Could it be that after all these years, the burden of Burke
still weighed on her heart?
"
I see you were chewing on more than your food," Duke said,
when Belle finished eating and carried her plate to the
sink.
"
I have a lot to think about Daddy. This weekend,
well-"
"
The Lord don't give you more than you can handle." Duke
loosely quoted First Corinthians.
"
That verse is talking about temptation," Belle countered,
smiling.
"
This is a temptation," Duke said, filling the big ceramic
sink with hot, soapy water. "A temptation to stay bitter and angry
- chained to the past."
Belle picked up a
dishtowel and started to dry. "It's my decision, isn't
it?"
"
No one else's."
After the dishes were done,
Belle showered and called good night down the stairs. It was still
early, but she needed some time.
"
Lord, what am I to do?" she prayed, reaching for her
guitar. She curled up on her bed and sank into the pillows. For the
better part of an hour, she played and prayed, letting the peace of
His Spirit wash over her and strengthen her soul.
In the driveway of the
ramshackle farm house, juxtaposed in its shadow, sat a new sports
car convertible, burgundy with a black top and tinted windows. The
sleek car seemed to mock the peeling paint and sagging front porch
of the old homestead.
Yet, to Burke Benning, the house
was his true treasure. He unlocked the front door, absently tucked
his keys in his pocket and wondrously stepped into the past.
Grandpa Benning's old place made
him feel like a kid again and instantly connected him to all the
good that came from growing up in small Mid-western town of
Haskell, Oklahoma.
Not much had changed in the
house since he'd inherited it from his grandfather several years
ago. The old furniture and fixtures remained the same, only now
covered with dusty sheets.
Faded wallpaper peeled away from
the wall, and the pea green shag carpet that covered most of the
downstairs was a flashback to the '70's.
In the kitchen, Burke stuck his
head inside the pantry and drew a deep breath. How could it be that
after all these years it still smelled of baked ham and pumpkin
pie?
The family room stretched along
the southern side of the house. Large windows, opposite the stone
fireplace, let in the mid-day light. Burke stepped into the room,
and for a brief moment, stepped into the past. So many of his
boyhood memories were made right here as he celebrated holidays and
birthdays with the family.
He closed his eyes trying to
remember the smell of spring air blowing through open windows,
perfumed with the sweet scent of new mown grass.
"
Takes you back, doesn't it?" A hand clapped solidly on his
shoulder.
Burke whirled around.
"Dean," he said, embracing his older brother. "I still miss
them."
"
Me, too."
"
I suppose we never outgrow wanting our
grandparents."
"
It's home, Burke. It's home."
A young, deep voice
interrupted. "Hey, Uncle Burke." A bright face appeared around
Dean.
"
Jack?"
Jack smiled sheepishly.
"Yeah."
"
You've grown a foot since I saw you last summer!" Burke
stepped back and surveyed his only nephew. He sported the wide,
mischievous Benning smile and strong chin. He looked more a like a
grown man than Burke wanted to admit.
"
He's sixteen, Burke," Dean said, then boasted. "Starting
quarterback for the Haymakers this fall."
Burke congratulated his nephew,
proud that he continued the Benning legacy at Haskell High.
"
Your dad and I had a lot of fun times in this old place,"
Burke said. "Remember the attic, Dean?"
Dean nodded. "Granddad had
old model trains up there with the track and town all laid out.
That thing kept us out of trouble for hours."
"
Let's check it out," Burke suggested, starting for the
attic.
When they reached the hot and
dusty third floor, they found the treasure they'd hoped to find.
Under a waterproof tarp sat Granddad's trains, still waiting to
pull away from the station.
"
Hello! Anybody home? Hello?" Muffled calls resounded up the
stairwell.
Jack glanced out the attic
window. "Granddad and grandma are here."
Burke left the attic and
met his parents in the front foyer, grabbing his mother in a big
swirling hug. "Hello, Mother."
Laughing, Elaine Benning
slapped her son on the shoulder. "Now, put me down before I get
dizzy."
"
Hello, son." Reese Benning stepped up and gave his youngest
son a manly, yet loving hug.
"
Dad, good to see you," Burke said. Dean and Jack joined
them as they moved into the family room.
"
This place hasn't changed in fifty years," Elaine said,
glancing around, hands on her petite waist. She seemed like a
delicate rose blooming in the shadow of towering trees standing
next to the broad, tall Benning men. The top of her brown head
barely squared off with Reese's shoulders. "Reese, that mantle
picture was there the first time you brought me to meet your
parents."
"
The folks didn't go in much for change," Reese commented, a
far away look in his dark, deep eyes as he walked around the room.
"You going to fix this place up Burke? It'd be worth your money.
It's got a sound construction. You could rent it out for a nice
price."
"
I plan on fixing it up," Burke said, rubbing his hands
together, an edgy, nervous feeling creeping over him. He had news
to share with the family and wanted to get it out in the open. "Why
don't we all sit in the family room? I want to talk to you about
something."
Elaine and Reese took a seat on
the couch. Dean pulled a sheet off of an old rocking chair that
squeaked when he sat down. Jack flopped down next to his grandpa
and scrubbed Reese's thick gray head with his knuckles then tried
to arm-wrestle him. They tussled and grunted for a few seconds
before Reese won.
"
Not bad for a fifty-seven year old grandpa," Reese said,
patting his forearm, muscular and powerful from years of working
the ranch and roping cattle.
Meanwhile, Burke paced the
floor in front of them, his mind rehearsing what he wanted to say.
When he had their attention, he said in one tight breath, "I'm
retiring from football."
All smiles faded.
"
Why?" Reese asked, serious and concerned.
"
Now? At the height of your career?" Dean trailed his
father's question with one of his own.
Burke put up his hands for
silence. "It's time," he said, meaning it.
"
Burke, how can it be time? You're at the top of your game.
You have at least five or six seasons left," Dean pointed
out.
Burke's gaze fell on each
family member, his eyes meeting theirs for a fleeting moment. "Last
season was my last. I believe the Lord has called me to
retire."
"
What's changed, Burke?" Reese asked, studying his son with
intensity. "When your mother and I visited with you at Christmas,
you had a five year plan to play with the Broncos."
"
I've changed."
Elaine shifted in her seat
and leaned toward Burke. "How so?"
Burke ducked his head and
cleared his throat. Thinking of the events of the last six months
still stirred his heart. When he felt in control, he looked up and
said. "I encountered Jesus again in a way I hadn't in a long
time."