Page 49 of High Velocity

“Dad?”

Jonas nods as he slowly turns his eyes to Jackson.

“His favorite spot in this whole damn place was this porch. Killed him to leave his ranch in Texas but he came to love it here, from this spot, watching the ranch life he couldn’t participate in anymore. He didn’t want to miss out on anything or anyone.”

Alex, Jackson’s mom, steps out on the porch and smiles at us, but then she notices her husband, and her smile is replaced with a look of concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“Pops…” The single word from Jonas is enough to clue her in.

“Oh, no…Thomas.”

I watch her approach the old man and bend over, putting a hand against his wrinkly cheek and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Then she turns to her husband, who wordlessly reaches for her. She responds by crawling onto his lap and I watch as tears slowly start rolling down her face. I didn’t know Thomas well, but my eyes are burning too.

Jackson still hasn’t said anything and is holding on to my hand as if it’s a lifeline.

“Jackson,” his mom calls out. “Honey, call the family. Tell them to come.”

I am out of place, this is too personal, too intimate.

“I should go,” I whisper.

His hold tightens as his hand almost crushes my fingers.

“Don’t…Please,” he adds as an afterthought. I hear the emotion thick in his voice. “Stay.”

Alex is apparently of the same mind when she turns to me.

“If you wouldn’t mind putting on a big pot of coffee, while Jackson makes the calls.”

I nod, “Okay,” and move with Jackson as he leads me up the porch steps and inside the house.

Thank God the coffee machine is pretty standard and I find a tin of coffee in the cupboard overhead. While Jackson is sitting at the large island, making phone calls, I start setting out mugs, and find sugar and creamer. Next, I dive into the massive fridge, find the makings for sandwiches and setting it all on the counter.

“What are you doing?” Jackson asks, walking up behind me.

“People are going to come and will want coffee, maybe a drink, so there should be food too.”

I’ve blocked out a lot of what happened after my mother died, but I distinctly remember that part. I recall being angry, at first, that people could even think about food or drink at a time like that, but I was twelve, and didn’t know people found comfort in sharing memories over a drink or a meal.

I turn in his arms when they slip around me, and lift my hands to his face.

“I’m so sorry.”

He opens his mouth to respond but closes it again, nodding instead, as I lift up on my toes and press a light kiss on his lips. For a moment, he closes his eyes and drops his forehead to mine, but then he straightens up.

“Okay, let’s get to work.”

Half an hour later, I carry a tray with coffee and sandwiches out to the porch where, to my surprise, a crowd has already formed. It looks like almost everyone associated with the ranch or the High Mountain Trackers has come.

It puts a lump in my throat to see how Thomas is being honored. He is still slumped over in the rocking chair, but now propped up by a few pillows and his lap covered in a blanket Ama is straightening, his community gathered around him. Alex and Jonas are still as they were, but others are sitting on steps, leaning against posts, and most of the men appear to be smoking cigars. Conversation is muted and no one seems too surprised to see me here.

Janey, who is sitting on the porch steps beside a petite blond woman I don’t recognize, smiles at me.

“Want me to make you some tea?” I ask her, realizing she probably passed on coffee because of her pregnancy.

“I’m okay. Stephanie, have you met Lucy yet? Bo’s wife? She runs Hart’s Rescue.”

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