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“Rory?” She needed to say it before she lost her nerve. “I’m still thinking about what to do.”
“You’ll make the right decision. I talked to the bug guy and ran the numbers. It will add on about seven thousand to fix the termite damage.”
“Ouch. You aren’t trying to sway my opinion, are you?”
“Never. You need all the facts to make an informed decision.” Rory’s playful tone had disappeared. She could picture the earnest look on his handsome face, even if he did sound half asleep.
“Thanks.” Torn, Vi wanted the conversation to continue. Thunder pawed at her door. “Good night, Rory.”
As she clicked off, Rory muttered unintelligible words about knowing which house option he’d choose.
She got up and let Thunder in. She climbed back into bed, propping the device on her lap. It couldn’t hurt to try his suggestion. Her fingers tapped the keys and pressed ENTER. Numbers only didn’t work. She spelled out the month, then added the rest. No. Not right either. What about her name? Mother had always called her Violet. Daddy had shortened it to Vi. When she wasn’t Squirt … or Shorty … or Red. She keyed in RED0601.
Tears smarted when the window changed. Rory had been right. A tentative smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Dad and Rory would have enjoyed each other.
Concentrating on the tablet again, Vi grinned at the game icons. It thrilled her to hold the device Daddy had used—often in the last days when his energy level drooped. Spotting Google Drive, she clicked on it and then touched the File icon. “Did you know how to store pictures and documents?” she asked aloud, holding her breath.
Several documents popped up. She scrolled down and clicked on the oldest date. Skimming down the page, she gasped. Daddy had written her a letter.
Hey Squirt,
You’re snooping around on my tablet! I’m glad you found it, but you might wish you hadn’t. It’s time for you to know a few things. I reckon some of it will be important to you—other stuff, not so much. While I’m still feeling good enough, I’ll jot down what I can remember. It took me a while to figure out how to do a letter. I tire out fast these days. You’ll be walking in the door soon, and I’d rather talk to you in person.
Vi swallowed hard and opened another file—instructions on how to get around the “dodgy” stick shift on the white truck. Tears spilled from her eyes. She could hear Daddy mumbling around his pipe as he explained you had to get a feel for it.
She wiped her palms across her wet cheeks and placed the tablet on the nightstand. Tempting as it was to continue reading the letters, the decision to read one letter at a time and savor Daddy’s last words won. Resolutely, she turned out the light. “Night, Daddy.”
Rory glanced at his phone to see if Jesse had texted, then riffled through the messy pile of spreadsheets, sketches, and sticky notes on his Peeps’ desk. Loud music pulsed through the wall with a high-intensity workout in full swing. Those guys were nuts. Mission forgotten, he sat back, staring longingly at the thick roll of plans he’d stashed on top of the file cabinet. Waiting for Vi to decide was taking a toll. He needed to tell her the prices he’d previously quoted would increase the longer she waited.
He shifted position. Too early for his leg to ache. C’mon, Jess. They needed to spy out the second tract of land before his day filled. He’d hoped for downtime after last night, but the chances of a slow day were erased by the second. He and Paige had scored several possible investors at the fundraiser. However, if she felt as disconnected as he did, they needed to revisit their networking strategies.
A single sharp rap on his door, then Jesse entered with no greeting. Rory did a double take at Jesse’s drawn face and red-rimmed eyes. He lowered into a chair in front of the desk.
Without knowing why, Rory braced against the chair cushion.
“Manny died last night,” Jesse said in a level voice. He clasped his hands together and stared at the floor.
Rory’s thoughts jerked back to that terrible day in Afghanistan. Manny had been in the Humvee when the IED exploded. He’d survived with severe and ongoing injuries. Callous or not, Rory thanked God his scarred legs and crushed foot were the extent of his injuries.
“How … did he pass?” Rory managed around the rock in his throat. Their eyes met with the dark knowledge of what Rory hadn’t said. Had Manny accidentally overdosed? Or did he take his own life? Rory had experienced the level of pain that could drive a man to it.
“Rosa said he went peacefully.”
Rory blew out a pent-up breath. “I want to believe it.”
“Yeah. I do too.” Jesse laid his palms on the desk and rocked them back and forth. “The funeral’s on Friday. Want me to get us a flight?”
“Yes. Give me a day to get things lined out here. Our plan to spy out the new tract of land will have to wait.” Memories flooded his mind. Manny had been the up-for-anything guy until the accident. What followed were days stretching into months of pain, relieved only by heavy drug use. Jesse had stayed in communication with Manny while Rory fought his own battles with surgery and rehab. Rory’s life had been a living nightmare for months. However, a still small voice telling him he would not only survive but thrive saved him during those days and nights of pain.
Rory’s chest swelled with grief, though his chin lifted in tribute. Honoring Manny’s life would be a privilege. No more sorrow over his own missing limb. Rory knew he’d done nothing to earn the grace and mercy he’d received. Nor did he deserve the opportunities handed to him.
But he’d fight every giant in the valley to secure the blessings of his second chance.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rory sat in the same chair he’d occupied the last time he waited for Vi to finish a massage. His eyes narrowed as she slipped from the room. Her grim face and the way her boot dragged telegraphed exhaustion. She made a beeline for the women’s dressing room, never looking his way.
Two minutes later, a guy swaggered out of the massage room. Rory’s neck muscles bunched.
