Creighton's Hideaway (11 page)

Shana held the door open for him. “Sure you're ready to brave the storm?”

“Aw, shucks, ma'am. ‘Tain't nothing,” he said, and brushed a roughened finger down the length of her nose. “Stay warm.”

 

****

 

Creighton grudgingly admitted that a different storm brewed within his soul as the four-wheeler slid through the night.

He needed to stay away from Shana.

He couldn't stay away from her.

He tried to pull back, but she drew him closer.

That's how it had been with booze. He knew it wasn't good for him, yet he was compelled to tip that first bottle.
Don't kid yourself, Buddy
. His thoughts whipped through his head like dust in a summer storm. She may prove addictive, but Shana was a good temptation.

Except, they lived in different worlds.

“She may be good for me, but I'm sure no good for her!” He roared back at the thunder.

Oh, Lord, please make this storm a short one. No way can I be closed up with Shana in my house again
.

A jagged streak split the sky in answer.

Creighton's mind traveled back in time. He was nine years old when he first met Leslie White Raven, a Lakota Sioux boy from South Dakota. The details of Leslie's adoption by Creighton's neighbors two miles north were long forgotten. But electrical storms brought back the details of Leslie's death.

When there was free time back then, Creighton saddled up Blaze and crossed the road. Leslie met him at an old cottonwood south of his own home, astride his mount, Silver. They spent countless hours playing cowboys and Indians, riding across the hills as they chased imaginary buffalo and wild ponies. Their special place was atop a hill where unexplained rocks formed numerous circles. The boys believed that tipis from long ago had been erected there for hunting season.

The land holds the spiritual energies of my ancestors.

Leslie's imagined voice brought moisture to Creighton's eyes.

A tree cracked and groaned behind him. Creighton shivered, glad his ride home was almost over. He recalled the late afternoon darkness on that long ago day that sent him on a gallop south while Leslie raced north to his own home.

Only Leslie didn't make it home. Two hours later, Creighton's mother took the call. Silver had galloped into the barnyard without his mount.

Now thankful that his current ride was over, Creighton parked the ORV and ran into the house. He leaned against the kitchen door, ignoring the raindrops dripping onto the floor from his slicker. Tears came as readily now as they had when he heard at age eleven that Leslie was gone. Struck by lightning. His best friend's life ended at ten years of age.

Creighton shook himself out of his reverie and shed the slicker. It must be a night for tears. Why did he have to recall those youthful escapades now, when he was all stirred up over Shana?

He left the rest of his wet outer clothes next to the washing machine, and wandered through the storm-darkened house to his room. The flashing strobe from the wild outdoors matched his tingling nerves. He prayed for rest.

The jangle of the phone yanked Creighton from a restless sleep. He squinted at the clock that blinked its steady red 12:00.

“That means I have electricity,” he mumbled. He grabbed his watch. It read 3:47 in the AM. The phone rang again, and he reached to pick it up.

“Thank God,” his brother-in-law's voice responded to his mumbled hello. “I was afraid with the storm up there your phone might be out.”

Creighton rubbed his fingers over his eyes. Instantly awake, he sat up. “Ray. What's wrong?”

“Rita's in the hospital. She started cramping last night, and then bleeding. She's stable now.”

“Are you home?”

“No. They want to keep her twenty-four hours to make sure she doesn't go into labor. Sorry I called so early, but I figured you'd want to know.”

“Hey, man, no need to apologize.” Creighton yawned. “Should I head out right now?”

“Thanks. I know Rita would appreciate that offer. But don't hurry, just pray for now, OK?”

“You got it,” Creighton answered. “She probably needs a woman, so I'll wait until first light to wake Shana. See you for lunch.”

The men said their good-byes and Creighton flicked on the bedside lamp. He bowed his head and prayed for his sister. Looking up, he laughed. “God, you must have some sense of humor.”

He had dreaded the idea of being closed up with Shana here in the house. Now they'd be in a much more intimate enclosure, his truck cab, for nearly four hours.

His whole being groaned at the idea…with what, dread, or expectation?

 

 

 

 

9

 

Shana adjusted the shoulder strap of her seat belt and found comfort on the wide bench seat of Creighton's spacious pickup cab. There was so much room that she felt like a child. She grinned to herself at the sight she must have been, jumping up to the high seat. At least Creighton gave her a hand. His presence now filled the interior of the truck. It was much safer to keep her eyes on the scenery along Highway 14 than shoot glances his way. She attempted to concentrate on what lay outside the vehicle, but her worries centered on Rita and any threat to the life of the baby she carried.

Was Creighton worried, or did he just pray?

He had pounded on her door before 6:00 that morning, gruffly related that Rita was hospitalized, and asked if she could be ready to leave for Lincoln a half hour later.

Silence was heavy in the pickup. Creighton wore a frown.

A hawk on a post caught Shana's eye. She turned to look out the back window. Perhaps her eyes were deceiving her.

“What do you see?” Creighton asked.

“Now, that's curious.” She swung back to face him. “I thought I saw a hawk on that post back there. But it wasn't. It was a squirrel. Weird to see a squirrel so far from trees.”

“Quirk of nature, I guess.”

“They're quirky on campus.” Shana smiled at the memory. “I used to see squirrels and their silly antics on city campus. During the summer, it was common to walk past a noisy trash receptacle. Closer inspection revealed the tip of a squirrel's tail peeking from the rim. Once on their way, they'd rattle the leaves and bushes and race out in front of students and instructors. I've seen them with nuts, leaves in their paws and sticks in their mouths.”

The university felt like it was a world away.

Creighton slowed down for the low speed limit through Neligh and pulled into the gas station. “If you want anything you'd better get it now. I don't plan to stop again unless you really need a restroom.”

“Haven't had enough coffee yet.”

Before long, the gas pump shut off.

Creighton walked into the building. On the road again, Creighton said, “Sorry I've been so quiet. I know the ride'll go faster if we talk. Have you thought about what you need to do after we've seen Rita at the hospital?”

“I'll check in with my parents. And the Center.” She clutched her middle.

“Something wrong?”

Creighton saw too much.

“I hope not. Dad said I needed to stop at the bank about my account. I called and they've frozen my account until the matter is cleared. I'll need to make that stop in Lincoln.” She stretched her arms. “I am ready to face things. I'm expected to revamp the youth program, securing my future at The Pines. If Rita has to be off work, I may need to make some adjustments to cover for her.” She put pressure on a sore point in her shoulder. “Put the degree on hold again.”

“You can't bury your head in the sand long before you start choking.” He kept his eyes on the road, the crease between his eyes deepened.

Tension made the cab seem smaller.

“I thought I'd be at the ranch the full two weeks.” Prospects of an uncertain future trembled through her voice. “Your corner of Nebraska is growing on me.”

“You are an emotional one, aren't you?”

“Hazard of being an only child.”

“You know you can stay as long as you need to. Nobody's reserved the cabin, and probably won't before spring.” He turned to look at her. “I know what it's like to avoid facing things.” A muscle popped in his jaw. “Been there. Done that. If you need the time, you've got a place to spend it in.”

She smiled her appreciation.

Would Creighton ever share what he tried to escape by living out there in the boonies? Surely his talents rose above handyman activities and landlord business? He reached over and took her hand in his.

She threaded her fingers in his, and then closed her eyes at the contact.

“Thank you for being my friend, Creigh.”

He squeezed her hand and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “Now that we agree on that point, what should we talk about?”

“I really didn't have any friends until Rita. As an only child and with Mom and Dad in their upper years, they spoiled me and pretty much kept me occupied so I never felt lonely. I was a book nerd and studied most of the time through high school and college.”

Creighton's hand spread warmth that soothed the anxiety in her stomach.

The truck ate up the miles.

Shana decided she liked cottonwoods. Their yellowing leaves stood out amongst the rows of trees they whizzed by. “Did you have a good friend when you were a kid?” she asked.

He smiled and nodded his head. “Oh, yeah. I went a step further and had a blood brother.”

“Wow. My dad would love to hear about this. He's into Native American history. Are you now in contact?”

“I wish. The storm brought Leslie to mind last night.” His hand stiffened. “He's dead.”

“I'm sorry, Creighton. What happened?”

“We used to ride and play in the pasture across from my place. He was only ten years old. I was the last one to see him alive. Struck by lightning while riding his horse. Ole Silver must have got a jolt, or a broken heart killed him. The horse was never the same and died about six months later.”

“That must have been so hard. What do you remember most about Leslie?”

“Well, let's see. He was deep. Sometimes I thought he was an old man inside, especially when I looked into his eyes. A little spooky. Like the spirits of his ancestors really lived within his soul, as he believed. The only time he was free and full of life was when we rode together out on those hills.”

“I imagine it was difficult for him, living in the white man's world, away from his own people.”

“Sure it was. ‘Course, I didn't see that until I was an adult.” Creighton leaned his left elbow on the armrest and rubbed his forehead before he continued. “One of the reasons I read westerns is because I'm always on the lookout for a link to Leslie's memory in those novels.”

“Did you have support after Leslie was killed, someone to help you get through it?”

“Not really. It was a rough time. Rita was a kid, spent time with her dolls and kittens. Mom gave me long looks and gentle smiles. I know she prayed and would have listened, but I didn't have the words to tell her how I felt.” Creighton lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes, fisting his hand on the seat. “Dad never liked my friendship with Leslie. And Tom was pretty much a baby.”

Shana covered his hand and gave it a light squeeze.

Then he needed both hands for a turn.

Conversation ebbed and flowed. They drank coffee from a thermos and ate some wonderful, chewy fruit-filled cookies that tasted homemade. Time flew by.

Before she was ready, Shana spied the state capitol rising above the horizon to the east. Uncertainty squeezed her insides, reminding her that the ball of unease remained, building in her stomach.

 

****

 

Creighton braked off the cruise control and took the West O Street exit into Lincoln. Traffic was heavy all the way to the hospital just south of O Street. He thanked the Lord that he didn't have to face so many drivers on the road every day. He followed the signs to the new hospital entrance, impeded by mammoth construction equipment.

After turning into the parking garage he found a spot, turned the key, and stretched his arm over the seat. Squeezing Shana's shoulder, he said, “I've been praying off and on since Ray called last night, do you mind if we pray again now?”

She shook her head, and he reached for her hand.

“Father God. You are the Creator of all life. We just ask that You do Your will in Rita's life and especially in the life of the baby whom she carries. Please show Shana and me how we can be used to help Rita and Ray through this rough patch in their lives.”

He lifted Shana's hand and lightly touched her second knuckle with his lips. “Ready to get the kinks out?”

She gave an enthusiastic nod, and he went around to her side to help her down from the truck.

Creighton missed the fresh air the dry fall day promised. He longed for blue sky as they followed the long enclosed entrance through the new medical center, and finally found the information desk. He asked for Rita's room number. “I'm her brother.”

The attendant gave it.

At the elevator doors, Shana pushed the Up button. Then laid a gentle hand on his arm. “It'll be OK. Whatever happens, Rita will do just fine.”

He hesitated at the wide open door, drew a deep breath and then exhaled. He gripped Shana's hand, thankful for the comfort of her presence, and pulled her to his side.

“Well, hey you two,” Rita greeted them. With a wide smile, her gaze swung from their faces to their clasped hands. She was fully dressed, seated in the recliner with her feet raised.

“Wow,” Creighton said with relief, “you're up and at ‘em, then?”

“Yep. Just waiting for the release papers. I tried to call, but you obviously were already on your way.” Rita looked at Shana and gave her a wink and a knowing smile. “Didn't think about your cell.”