Chapter Eleven
Jake crouched on the west side of the barn and pressed his hand to the soaked wood. “It’s wet. The whole thing. Must’ve started last night with the rain. But it should’ve drained by now.”
Ellen joined him, brow furrowed, eyes narrowing at the dark streaks bleeding down the boards. “We cleaned the gutters not two weeks ago.”
Jake nodded slowly. “And replaced them last year. There shouldn’t be a problem, but…
” He trailed off, his voice tight with unease.
“I think something’s blocking the downspouts.
I just cleared out the debris”—he motioned to a pail he’d brought down from the loft—“but the water’s still not draining. Maybe an animal built a nest in there.”
It seemed improbable, but not impossible.
“Rats? We haven’t had a problem with the feed. And I don’t think a bird would build a nest inside the drain.”
“I don’t know. I just know something’s wrong. It’s backing up and forcing water through the seams. We’ll have to cut off the two corner downspouts.”
“That’ll make a mess down here,” Ellen said, already picturing the muddy flood pooling near the foundation.
“But we don’t have a choice. If we don’t, that wall will have to be completely replaced.
” She didn’t want to think about the cost—in time and money.
“Still, two hours of rain shouldn’t have soaked through like this. ”
Jake stood, brushing his muddy hands on his jeans. “That’s the thing. The water’s not just hitting the wall. It’s inside. It’s in the barn.” He hesitated. “The hay in the loft is damp. If it starts to mold…”
Ellen’s stomach sank. Mold would spread fast—and not just in the hay. The entire loft could become a breeding ground for rot. “We need to move it as soon as possible.”
“I was thinking, if we get a break in the storm, I’ll climb up to the—”
“No.” Her voice cracked through the rain like a whip. It was louder than she meant it to be, sharper. Too sharp.
Jake blinked. “I won’t go up on the roof, Mom,” he said gently, reaching for her arm. “I promise.”
She nodded, throat tightening. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”
But the words felt heavy on her chest.
She couldn’t forget. She would never forget.
John had fallen from this roof—an accident that should’ve left him with bruises and maybe a concussion. But it wasn’t the height that killed him. It was the way he landed. His neck had snapped. One second he was alive, patching the barn roof, and the next he was on the ground, broken and dying.
She had seen him fall. Heard his body hit the hard ground.
Had sprinted toward him as time folded in on itself, her breath stolen by the impossible.
Her husband. The love of her life. The father of her children.
She reached him as he struggled, held his hand as he took his last breath.
Cried when his body stilled. It had happened so fast … but felt like an eternity.
It was the worst day of her life. The kids weren’t home, thank God. Uncle Travis picked them up from school early. But when they saw his face, they knew. Something had shattered in each and every one of them the day John died.
She blinked rapidly. She didn’t want to cry; she didn’t think she had any more tears after eleven months, two weeks, three days of living without John.
“Mateo should be back soon,” Jake said, his voice soft. “We’ll cut the downspouts, then go up to the loft. Not the roof. Just the loft. We’ll see where the water’s getting in.”
Ellen nodded. “Okay.”
But her eyes drifted down the gravel driveway, squinting through the haze. The rain had grown heavier, its rhythm relentless on the barn’s corrugated roof.
“What’s wrong?” Jake asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “Avery and Bobby are at the Mendozas. They’re supposed to be back by two, just with this rain maybe I should call over, have them come back now.”
“They’re fine. Avery is smart. She’ll call if she thinks they can’t get through.”
“I know. And I wouldn’t worry about it except I need to go check on Margery Sutton.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Probably not, but she’s having some concerns and I need to check on her before I can’t get there at all. You can take care of things here?”
“Of course,” Jake said. “And if Avery and Bobby aren’t back by two, I’ll go get them.”
“Be careful. The creek is already running high.”
“Roger that.”
Whisper Creek cut through their property and went under the road that separated their ranch from the former Mendoza property and other farms. The bridge—basically, a reinforced section of the road—had been replaced three times since Ellen had married into the McKenna family.
It should hold, even if the creek rose over it, but if it did, they wouldn’t be able to cross it, effectively cutting them off from the Mendozas—and from Bobby and Avery.
It was just after twelve. “I hope to be back by three, I’ll call if I’m later than four.”
She went to the truck and headed for the Suttons’ place.
She passed Mateo as he clattered up the drive on horseback, hunched in his saddle, Jake’s horse trailing behind him.
His rain slicker clung to him like plastic wrap, soaked through despite its promise of protection.
She waved at him, and he lifted a hand in greeting, then focused on navigating the horses through the mud.
While Jake was a responsible eighteen-year-old, she was glad Mateo had made it back.
Ellen turned onto the road and considered stopping by the Mendozas to check on her kids.
But as she passed the driveway and saw the lights from the house in the distance, decided that the delay could mean the difference between her making it back before the storm, so she continued on her way to the Suttons.