I'll Call You Home

The heels of Charlotte Trevino’s shoes clicked loudly on the tile floor of the hospital, keeping time with her racing heart. Less than 24 hours ago she’d gotten a call that made everything else stand still: her father had been injured and was in the hospital. She dropped everything and took the first flight from her current home in San Francisco to her childhood home in Texas. It had been a few years since she’d been back and the guilt of not being there for her dad had her stomach in knots.

When she finally reached the room number her brother had texted her, the door was wide open, and she barreled in. Her larger-than-life dad looked so small, hooked up to a variety of beeping machines, his arm in a sling, and she couldn’t stop the tears that sprang to her eyes. “Dad.”

He was sitting up in the bed, his wavy white hair longer than she remembered, and his brown eyes popped wide when he saw her. “Charlie-girl! What are you doing here?”

“Where else would I be?” She kissed his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Charlotte, what the hell?” Her brother Brandon walked in carrying a fresh cup of coffee and a newspaper. “I would have driven to the airport to pick you up if you’d have told me you were coming.”

She waved him off but wrapped her arms around his waist for a hug. Being barely 5’5” when Brandon was 6’, it was all she could manage. “I didn’t want to put anything more on your plate, so I just rented a car. It’s no big deal.”

Brandon shook his head. “Of course you did. Still wasn’t necessary. Can’t you just let people do things for you?”

“When I’m fully capable of doing them myself? Not on your life.” She smiled at her dad. “Wonder where I learned that?”

Arthur Trevino chuckled and wagged a finger at his daughter. “Ya got me there, Charlotte Rose. Stubborn as a mule—and I proudly take full responsibility.”

Perching on the edge of the bed, Charlotte held his hand and looked up at Brandon. “So, who’s going to tell me what happened?”

The two men shared a look she couldn’t read, and she narrowed her eyes. “All right. What’s going on?”

“Go ahead, Dad, tell her.” Brandon crossed his arms. “This is all you, old man.”

“Quiet, you.” Arthur patted his daughter’s hand and shrugged. “I was out for a ride around the property at the end of the day and something spooked the horse just as we were getting back to the paddock. Threw me on my ass.”

“On your head, more like.” Brandon nudged Arthur, trying to lighten the mood, but Charlotte wasn’t fooled. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, pinched at the edges from lack of sleep and an over-abundance of worry. “Old graceful here ended up dislocating his shoulder and bruising a few ribs. But they’re not sure his heart didn’t do a little dance, too.”

She’d been so busy planning her flight and lining up a substitute to cover her kindergarten classes, that Charlotte hadn’t allowed herself to be scared—and it seemed that moment was when her entire system decided to jump in with both feet. “Your…heart? Seriously? Like a heart attack or what?”

“Nothing like that. Your brother is just being melodramatic.” Arthur narrowed his eyes. “It was nothing, barely a blip.”

Tears blurred her vision, and she was having trouble catching her breath. If she hadn’t already been sitting on the edge of Arthur’s bed, her knees might have gone soft under her. Instead, she squeezed her dad’s hand and tried to sniffle back all the what-ifs that flooded her brain.

“Damn it, Dad. You’re barely into your sixties and I expect you to be around for at least another twenty years, you hear me? You’ve got to be more careful.”

Throwing his hands in the air, Brandon scoffed. “That is exactly what I’ve been telling him. It’s time to step back and think about retiring.”

With a snort at his son, Arthur patted Charlotte’s knee. “Oh, come on now darlin’, you know I’m far too stubborn to go anywhere just yet. You’ll see—give me a couple weeks and I’ll be up turning cartwheels!”

Just then, the nurse came in to take some vitals and give him some medication, so Charlotte dragged her brother into the hall.

“Tell me the truth, Bran. How bad was it? I know he’s not telling me everything.”

He ran his hand through his shaggy dark hair and leaned against the wall. “Not gonna lie, Char, I was pretty scared. He thinks the injuries are the most concerning part of all of this, but I really think he was lucky he didn’t have a full heart attack. If Doc Angus hadn’t still been there to call the ambulance, well…I don’t know. But he’s in the best heart hospital in southern Texas and they said he should recover just fine. He has some artery build-up but not enough that he needs surgery. Which is a good thing because the old man’s cranky enough that he has to take it easy and relinquish a lot of his duties.”

“Yeah, well, he’s gonna have to rest, probably longer than a couple weeks.” She tapped a finger against her chin and paced the hallway. “Maybe we can give Hank and Calvin some more responsibilities and convince Milo to come out after school, too.”

It quickly became obvious that Brandon was trying not to meet her eye, so Charlotte tapped his arm. “What? I’ll find out one way or another, so just spill it.”

“We had to let Calvin go about six months ago. Chores and duties have already been redistributed, mostly between Hank and me, and we’re already stretched pretty thin.”

“Oh, no.” Charlotte had always liked Calvin. He was around her age and had always been quick with a smile or a joke. They’d taken him on as a ranch hand during her senior year of high school and he’d been around every time she came home, keeping her company while they worked. Maybe he wasn’t the most reliable employee and had been a little mouthy at times, but he was good with the animals. In fact, Cal was the one who had helped her break the rowdiest colts once they were old enough. “I’ll miss seeing him around the ranch. What happened?”

Brandon shrugged. “Oh, you know how he was. It just got to the point where he was late more often than not, was getting into arguments with Hank and Dad, wasn’t getting shit done. So when money got tight and we realized we had to let someone go, he made the most sense. Turns out he has a rich uncle who offered him a job up near San Antonio. It’s been rough, but it was best for everyone, all around.”

Gaping at him, Charlotte tried to make sense of what he was saying. “Wait–back up. What do you mean when money got tight? T & M Ranch has always been able to take care of their employees.”

There had to be some mistake. But before she could ask any more questions, the nurse slipped by and Brandon scrambled to get back in the room. Charlotte could only follow, compiling a mental list of questions for her brother once they were home. But for the moment, she just wanted to relish the time with her little family.

****

When Arthur started yawning and having trouble keeping his eyes open, Charlotte and Brandon reluctantly left him to rest. The whirlwind of the last twenty-four hours was starting to take its toll on her, so she left her brother to run his errands in Seguin, and she started on the long drive home.

T & M Ranch was situated a quarter mile off the highway and Charlotte was glad it was still light out. Coming up the tree-lined drive and seeing the yard open up in front of her was a sight that never got old.

On her left, the two-story farmhouse was the first thing that came into view, and she was inundated with a flood of memories: Sitting on the covered porch, repotting plants with her mother, or learning how to tie knots with her dad. Her bedroom was on the second floor, just over the porch awning and she grinned thinking about the many times she’d snuck out and shimmied down the trellis. While she never got caught, Charlotte was pretty sure her dad knew what she was up to and stayed awake most nights until she came home.

She parked in front of the house and just sat with her hands gripping the steering wheel, lost in some other memories that weren’t all that great. Like the day she came home from school and found her father, eyes red, waiting to tell her that her mother had passed. She thought he was joking, just trying to scare her, even though he would never be that mean. Instead, he sat her down on those front steps and tried to explain to 14-year-old Charlotte that Rose Murray Trevino had suffered an aneurysm while hanging out the laundry and hadn’t known what was happening, hadn’t suffered at all. Her heart hurt staring at those steps, seeing in her mind’s eye the day of the funeral and all the black-clad, well-meaning folks who had come out from Zearing to pay their respects and share their useless platitudes.

“She’s in a better place, dear.”

“At least she didn’t suffer.”

“Everything happens for a reason.”

There were many, many comments about how she was the spitting image of darling Rose Murray. Charlotte knew she was her mom’s carbon copy—which only made it more painful to look in the mirror. Her dad and Brandon were tough. They’re ranchers, and men, and they refused to cry in front of anyone, even Charlotte. Because of that, they didn’t want to see her cry, either. So she suffered alone.

Well, almost alone.

Charlotte slid out of the rental car and climbed those familiar steps to sit on the hanging porch swing. The months following her mother’s death had been dark, nothing was good, nothing made her happy.

She had a sneaking suspicion that Jason Archer was the only reason she’d kept going that summer.

They had been on their first date just two weeks before Rose died and were a very young and very new couple. Helping someone deal with a death isn’t something many 15-year-old boys would take on willingly or with such care. But Jason was something else.

Charlotte tucked her legs under her as she sat, a sad smile on her lips. She did everything she could to push him away: refusing his phone calls, sitting silent and sullen anytime he came over to see her, and then turning around to seduce him the next minute. Her cheeks burned in the fading light. Not her proudest moment, that was certain. After years of therapy, she knew it was a desperate attempt to feel something, anything, good again.

But Jason had been the voice of reason, careful and kind, holding her in his arms while she cried. Or he’d stand as her scapegoat and let her scream and yell out her frustrations. Jason had a calmness about him that was nearly the opposite of Charlotte’s own hot temper. By the time they graduated high school, he could soothe her dark moods with a gentle hand barely grazing the back of her neck. She could almost feel it; the memory was so strong.

Shaking herself, Charlotte jumped up from the swing and stomped back to the car. Jason wasn’t part of her life anymore and hadn’t been for nearly eight years. After graduation he made it perfectly clear to her that he didn’t want her around. Well, by god, she wasn’t. A fantastic scholarship to City College of San Francisco and the creation of a life with her best friend, Katie, had kept her on mostly on the Coast ever since. When she did make it back to her hometown, she did everything she could to not run into Jason.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t always successful. At least once every time she was in town, they ran into each other. And it always took her breath away.

The first time wasn’t as much of a surprise as it was a punch in the gut. She’d only been home for a day and was already feeling pretty low. Things weren’t going as she’d thought at school, and she was really homesick, and then when she spotted Jason walking on the other side of the street, an arm around a woman she didn’t recognize, well…it was hard.

Dragging her suitcase into the house, Charlotte left it in her old bedroom, which was nearly unrecognizable. It was a neutral guest bedroom now, beige and pale green instead of the bright yellows and blues she had decorated it in. Back in the kitchen she poured herself some iced tea and returned to the porch swing to watch the night take over the sky.

Her mind wandered back to Jason as the deep blue of twilight crept over the vast Texas sky. It was the exact color of his eyes, hovering somewhere between blue and violet. Again, such a contrast to her own light brown eyes. He always called her his golden-eyed goddess which would make her blush. Even remembering it now brought the heat into her cheeks.

What the hell was she doing? Jumping up from the porch swing again, she paced the boards under her feet. She hadn’t thought this much about Jason in years. It had to be the familiarity of being home, all the memories bombarding her at once in her agitation. Yeah, that was all it was. Having her dad in the hospital brought all those old feelings back and it was natural for her to think about the time she spent with Jason. But he was a topic she needed to banish from her mind. Hell, she didn’t even know if he was still around Zearing. Probably took off for San Antonio or Austin to start a new life.

He’d probably forgotten all about her.

Chapter Two

JASON

“Come on, Ma. You have to eat.”

Elizabeth Archer scowled and pushed the spoon away. “Jimmy, you know I can’t eat this stuff! Where’s some of that divine apple cobbler I made just yesterday? Bring that to me and I’ll eat it all.”

“Ma, it’s Jason, not Jimmy.” His heart fell. “Dad’s been gone for a long time.”

The older woman sat back in her chair to get a better look at the young man trying to feed her a bite of roasted chicken. “Jason, you say? I don’t know any Jason, although you do look familiar.”

Jason Archer rubbed his forehead, a headache quickly settling in right behind his eyes. It had been nearly a week since his mother had been this bad. Most days she was perfectly lucid, playing cards with him after dinner and asking him about his job at the investment firm where he worked with his uncle. But not tonight. What set her off? Was there something about the weather, or what she was eating, or watching on television that would send her back decades? He’d likely never know. Dementia was a devilish disease that stole the people you love one memory at a time.

“I promise I’ll try to bring you apple cobbler tomorrow. But for today, you need to eat something.” He tried to smile but it was obvious she was losing weight, and the nurses were concerned they’d have to feed her intravenously before too long. “The kitchen made this especially for you. It would be rude to not eat at least some of it, wouldn’t it?”

Elizabeth’s forehead crinkled and she eyeballed the forkful of food for a second. Then she rolled her eyes and took the utensil out of his hand. “Fine. I wouldn’t want to hurt the cook’s feelings. But I want to see some cobbler tomorrow or I’m going to town for dinner.”

Once that was settled, his mother tucked into the meal as though there’d never been a question about eating it. She made pleasant conversation, laughing and smiling, but Jason knew she wasn’t quite herself. And it broke his heart.

A young nurse stopped into the room to remove the plate and Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. “Oh, hello darling! Have you met my husband, Jimmy?”

Jason winced and stood to shake the pretty blonde’s hand. “Hi, sorry. I’m Jason, her son.”

“Not a problem. We get that a lot. I’m Veronica, although she likes to call me Charlotte, for some reason.”

Breath catching in his throat, he glanced back at his mother before turning to Veronica and lowering his voice. “Charlotte? Are you sure that was the name?”

“Yes, yes, Jimmy, dear, this is Charlotte. She goes to school with our son and is the sweetest little thing you’re ever gonna meet.” Elizabeth leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I do believe they’ll be married one day, but don’t tell our boy that. He’s far too young to be thinking about such things.”

Veronica laughed and picked up the tray. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. Archer, your secret is safe with us.” Then she winked at Jason and backed out of the room.

His mouth hung open as he stared at his mother. How the hell did she remember Charlotte, but couldn’t remember his name from day to day? The nurse didn’t look a thing like Charlotte, quite the opposite. Where Veronica was tall and athletic and blonde with shining light blue eyes, Charlotte was a tiny little thing with a personality as big as Texas. She wore her brown curls shaggy, always blowing her bangs out of her eyes. And those eyes…such a light shade of brown he’d never seen anywhere else. Like molten gold.