Chapter 9 #2
Roger just shook his head and wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m so sorry, daughter. So very, very, sorry.
” And then he turned to Tate and held out his hand.
“Tate Bandy, I would be honored to shake your hand. Whatever differences we have pale in comparison to the devotion you hold for my girl. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I am so very sorry you were injured in the process. Once again, you were there for her, when her mother and I were not.”
Tate shook it without hesitation. “As long as you understand, all I do for her is out of a deep and abiding love.”
Roger sighed, then glanced at Briar. “The house is truly a mess, and I have a huge favor to ask of you.”
She sighed. “What do you need?”
“I understand the landlines still work. I need to check the office for damage and then—”
“The office is intact,” she said. “I ran past it yesterday on the way to the hospital. No broken windows. No debris on the roof. You have that green metal roof, so there’s no missing shingles. It should be dry inside.”
“Thank goodness for small favors,” he said. “Then can I ask you to answer phones for me while I begin filing insurance claims? I have a portable generator in the garage. It’s too small for the house, but it will run enough power in the office for lights and my computer.”
“Yes, of course I’ll help. I think Tate’s parents are coming to get him this morning. Doctor Joe said he’d likely release him today.”
Tate reached for her hand. “Briar, honey, you have gone the distance with me and then some. You also tied a knot in that reporter’s tail, so I feel vindicated.”
She rolled her eyes. “We can only imagine how that’s going to play out on TV.”
Roger blinked. “You two are going to be on TV?”
“KSDK, out of St. Louis,” Tate said, then reached for Briar’s hand. “You go on with your dad. When I get home, I’m going to do nothing but stretch out on my stomach and finally get some sleep. I can’t rest lying on what hurts.”
She leaned across the bed and hugged him gently, then kissed his cheek. “Hopefully cell service will soon return, but until it does, just count on seeing me at least once a day until those stitches come out.”
“I can always count on you,” he said, and then he glanced back at Roger.
“When you begin the cleanup and remodeling, you should not replace the sliding doors. Get french doors instead. Less glass to go flying if it ever happens again. And change out that doorknob to the basement with one that does not lock.”
Roger was speechless, but Briar was the one to respond. “Thank you, Tate. I will make sure that happens. Love you. Take care of yourself and I’ll see you soon.” Then she tapped her father on the shoulder and pointed. “We should go before the halls get busy.”
Roger hesitated. “Where are your things?”
She frowned. “What things? I did not pack a bag. We ran for our lives.” She glanced back at Tate and shook her head, before walking out the door, with Roger right behind her.
Tate grinned. That tornado ripped away every last bit of hesitance or compliance within her. He knew his girl. She had just been given the responsibility of helping in that office, and it was about to spill over into being in charge of what needed to be done to their house.
Nobody had mentioned Mariah Lowe, but Tate knew she was on her way back unannounced. What Mariah had yet to realize was that through her actions, she was now on the bottom rung of the Lowe totem pole, and her daughter had become a force to be reckoned with.
* * *
Tate was home by ten a.m., dressed in nothing but a pair of baggy gym shorts, flat on his belly, asleep in his bed.
Abel and Lilith were so happy to have him home in one piece that the minor damage they had to their roof and property seemed unimportant.
* * *
Briar had gone home to shower and get into decent clothes for the office.
She made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for their breakfast on the coffee table in the living room, and took snacks and cans of pop from the pantry for them to eat during the day.
As they were loading up the car, she stopped to remind her father..
“If the power is still off in town, the fuel pumps won’t be working.
Bring the gas can from the garage. I know it’s full,” she said.
Roger paused. “Good catch,” he said, and went into the garage. He came back carrying the can and put it in the trunk. He noticed that she was making a list as they were driving away. “What are you writing?” he asked.
“Things to do. Who do you know who has chainsaws to cut wood? We need that tree out of the kitchen. Also…you need to call that contractor guy you know and have him get to the house with some plywood and board up the broken sliders and broken windows until they can be replaced. And what is that company on your list of people that removes flood damage within homes?”
“Bryson Remediation?”
“Yes! I’ll try to call him today and get us in line. You know we’re not the only ones who will be needing construction and repair,” she said.
Roger braked at a stop sign and turned and stared. Who is this person, and what did she do with my daughter? “Right,” he said, then turned right and accelerated, still winding his way through the streets to get to the back of his office.
As soon as they arrived, he unlocked the back entrance to let Briar in, then handed her the keys to open the front doors, while he filled up the generator and started it up before going inside.
Flipping that light switch and illuminating the entire room seemed like a miracle. “Thank the Lord,” he muttered, thinking being able to switch on a light was suddenly the most wonderful gift. And in that moment, a verse from the Book of Genesis suddenly popped into his head.
And God said, “Let there be light.” Just like today—the first day after a devastation, there was light back in their world.
“Power’s on,” he called out.
“Awesome,” Briar said, and began turning on lights in the office, and flipping the Closed sign to Open. Then she sat down at the front desk, grabbed a notepad and a couple of pens, and reached for the landline.
By noon, she had a man and his two sons removing the downed limb from the kitchen and carrying off the debris from the front and backyard, and a crew coming with plywood to board up the damaged openings and broken windows.
A crew from Bryson Remediation was due at eight a.m. tomorrow.
They were going to be living among a lot of remodeling for a while, but Rita, Roger’s regular receptionist, was already on her way back to Star Ridge, which would leave Briar at home during the day to oversee the different work crews.
Briar didn’t know where her mother was. She had no clue that Roger had spilled the beans about her mother’s past to her parents, or that they’d ordered their own daughter out of their house. But she did know that if her mother came home and found all of this, she wouldn’t stay.
At least, not until it was all put back together again.
* * *
While Star Ridge was beginning the long journey to recovery, Amy Wall and her film crew were less than a mile from the studio, wondering if Tate Bandy’s prediction was going to turn out to be a joke or a lifesaver.
When they pulled into the parking lot and then into one of the reserved spaces, they all got out.
Amy was doing everything security had instructed her to do, trying to act naturally when her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was coming out of her chest.
She was walking toward the back entrance into the station when she heard the sudden roar of an engine and turned to look.
The blue Jeep racing down the street toward her was a shock.
The window was down on the driver’s side, and she could see the silhouette of the driver, with a gun pointed at her.
She threw herself onto the sidewalk as a shot rang out.
But the shot didn’t come from the driver. It was from the SWAT sharpshooter on the roof of the station. The Jeep slammed into a nearby car with the driver slumping over the wheel.
Security came running from everywhere, grabbing Amy up and rushing her inside. She was too shaken to cry. That would come later.
Six months of scary letters, threatening phone calls, tires slashed, and one break-in at her apartment later, it was over. Had it not been for Tate Bandy, she would very likely have been dead. From this moment until the day she died, she knew his gift was real.
Annie and her team spent the next couple of hours putting together storm footage and B-roll, which led the evening news with a promise of meeting a pair of sweethearts who saved each other.
Amy didn’t flinch in calling Tate a young man who’d been born with the gift of knowing, a true psychic in every measure of the word, and she was living proof.
She honored him and Briar for their courage and devotion to each other, and publicly thanked him for the warning that saved her life.
Tate didn’t know it yet, but this story was the beginning of him—a man on a mission.
* * *
Because the power was still out in Star Ridge, very few people in town even saw the lead-in, but the ones who did immediately tuned in to watch.
Roger and Briar stayed at the office on purpose, hoping to catch the story on the evening news, and when they saw the promos promising the story to come, Briar called Tate.
He was having supper with his parents when she called.
“It’s Briar,” Tate said, and then answered. “Hey, honey.”
“Turn on TV. They’re going to air the footage tonight. Channel Five. Dad and I are still at the office. There’s power here and we saw the lead-in.”
“Oh, thanks, darlin’. I’ll tell Dad.”
Abel looked up. “Tell Dad what?”
“Turn on TV to Channel Five. Those people from the TV station who interviewed us at the crack of dawn. They are airing their story.”
Within seconds, they helped Tate up, then went into the living room. Abel turned on the TV and then they waited.