Home To You. Cheryl Wolverton
Ryder sat in the seat next to his friend, Chase Sandoval. “I appreciate the ride home, Chase. Seems my car won’t be ready until tomorrow.”
“No problem, bud,” Chase replied, his familiar brown eyes glancing toward Dakota as he turned down the tree-lined street. “I can’t believe you still live out in this area, man. I remember the years we spent picking leaves up every fall, swearing when we grew up we were going to move where there were no trees.” He shook his head. “So, are you gonna hire someone to rake up all the leaves in your yard this fall?”
“You think it’s that bad?” Dakota chuckled.
“We spent too many years out there doing it to be forced into doing it anymore.”
Dakota laughed outright remembering their childhood adventures together.
“Maybe I’ll hire some kids from church. They’re getting ready for a winter trip they’re planning to take Christmas break, and Jeff has them offering to do jobs for everyone so they can earn money for their expenses.”
“Sounds like that new youth pastor of yours is working out.”
“He’s doing great. A year ago I couldn’t have imagined having this many young people attending church.”
“Ah, but when you step out on faith and do what God tells you to do…”
Dakota grinned and knew his own brown eyes reflected the humor of Chase quoting back what he’d told him so many times. “It’s my job to say that.” It sure was good to have his old friend back in town. “Yeah, we don’t know what God has planned for our future. The church has doubled in size, and we’re even looking into doing something special for families around town this Christmas.”
Chase turned onto Chippewa where Dakota lived. Dakota tried to look at his neighborhood from his friend’s point of view. It was an older area of Shenandoah, a town that wasn’t much younger than Fort Worth itself. The streets were laid out in straight lines from north to south and from east to west. Sidewalks graced each side of the street and huge old maple and elm trees filled the front yards. Leaves covered everything, including the streets. The breeze caught a few and they swirled up, dancing across the road in a flurry of movement and color, looking like one of the small twisters that so often invaded their land in the springtime.
The houses themselves were tall and square, mostly made of brick or whitewash, but smaller than the houses in the center of town, and not on such evenly divided lots. By the time a person reached the edge of town, it seemed like wilderness—nothing for miles except the many cattle ranches and a few farmers who grew wheat or cotton.
Dakota had grown up in the house he lived in now. A two-story whitewash, it had a front porch and a swing. Two huge maples stood in the front and a weeping willow and a vegetable garden graced the backyard. The garden had always been his mom’s favorite; she loved digging in it, but right now, as autumn deepened its hold, the garden was barren.
“Speaking of the church, it’s actually doing very well,” Dakota returned to the conversation. “With you back in town you might consider coming there if you don’t find another church.”
Chase hesitated. “Let me get moved in first.”
Because his car had broken down, Dakota had been forced to break his luncheon appointment. But as luck would have it, he’d seen Chase and they’d ended up having lunch together.
His friend wasn’t the joking, laughing person he’d remembered. His letters hadn’t revealed just how much Chase had suffered since his wife’s death. Dakota wondered if he’d backed off from God spiritually as well.
“Shenandoah sure has grown since I’ve been gone.”
Dakota nodded. “I guess twenty years ago everyone thought moving to Fort Worth was the way to go. Now everyone’s escaping back out to the small towns within a few hours of the big cities.”
“Too much corruption and pollution in the big cities.”
“Just why did you move back, Chase?”
Chase had been one of Dakota’s best friends growing up. In tenth grade he’d had to move away, but they’d kept in touch over the years through regular mail and e-mail. Last year Chase’s wife had died, and Chase had been left to raise their daughter alone.
“You mean besides the job as deputy sheriff?”
Dakota nodded as Chase pulled up at his house. “It looks just the same…except for the two old ladies standing in your yard.” Chase nodded toward the house.
Dakota followed his gesture and groaned.
Chase grinned. “What’s up with them?”
“That’s the Mulgrew sisters. Mary and Margaret. They live next door. Don’t you remember them?”
Chase’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute…you mean they’re still alive?”
Dakota nodded. “Alive and well and out to take care of me now that my mom is visiting Susan and helping take care of the twins.”
Chase unsnapped his seat belt and jumped from the sedan. Dakota followed suit. Reaching into the back of the car, he grabbed one of the two boxes he’d put in his car, intending to bring them home before his transmission had given out.
“I’ll help you with those,” Chase offered.
“You just want to see what the Mulgrew sisters have to say.”
Chase chuckled, the first real laugh he’d heard from his friend since meeting up with him again. “They were a pair back then.”
They started up the leaf-covered sidewalk toward the house. Mary and Margaret both wasted no time in hurrying toward them.
The shorter of the two, Mary, her light blue hair distinguishing her from her older (by only a few minutes) sister, who had silver hair, started forward. “It’s awful. I told her she shouldn’t be up there, but she just laughed in my face, didn’t she, sister?”
Margaret nodded. “And rather rudely. She’s had a nip.” Margaret motioned with her hand, as if tipping a bottle up, and then dropped it into her other hand, clasping them, worrying the white hankie that was in her other hand. “Bless your mother’s heart. If she saw that she’d turn white with shock.”
“Not sister and me though,” Mary added. “I do say, it is shocking, but then, we grew up in poverty and saw worse back then, though you didn’t flaunt it.”
“Well, you did if you were one of them,” Margaret lifted an eyebrow to match her superior tone.
“Margaret,” Mary admonished.
Dakota raised a hand. “Um, excuse me.”
Both women turned from each other to look at him expectantly. Before he could say a word, however, Margaret launched back into her speech. “We thought about calling the police but then, you are a pastor and are supposed to have mercy and we decided you’d probably seek out a homeless shelter—”
“Or something,” Mary added, not to be left out.
“I’m not sure…that is…” Dakota began trying to decide what to address first in all they had just said. These women had a way of turning his dark brown hair a bit grayer with every meeting. He was certain those first few gray hairs he’d found the other day were attributable to conversations like this.
“Have we met?” Margaret interrupted, staring oddly at Chase. “You look familiar.”
Chase cleared his throat. “I’m Chase Sandoval, ma’am.”
“Oh, yes!” Mary nodded suddenly. “You were that boy that liked to ride his bike through our yard.”
Chase actually blushed to the roots of his hair. “Oh, yeah, I’d, um…forgotten.” He cast a look at Dakota, hoping for help.
Dakota