All I Have Read online

  All I Have

  By

  Felicia Rogers

  All I Have

  Copyright © 2012 by Felicia Rogers

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Contact Information:

  Website: http://feliciarogersauthor.webs.com

  Email: [email protected]

  Published by:

  M.O.I. Publishing

  "Mirrors of Imagination"

  Cover Design: Elaina Lee (For the Muse)

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter One

  The helicopter hovered inches above the earth and clouded the surrounding area with dust. The landing skits touched down and the craft wobbled to a halt. A uniformed officer exited the chopper, his medals and ribbons shining brilliantly in the desert sun. An enemy officer waited and escorted him into a makeshift building.

  Several prisoners crowded against the one barred window in the holding compound; another detainee tapped Nicholas' arm. "This is it, Lieutenant. They've come for us. You said they wouldn't forget."

  Nicholas stepped away from the soldier and paced while thoughts of his family raced across his mind. Unbidden hope rose, maybe this was the day of freedom. A commotion amongst the men brought him back to the window. With weary eyes, they watched the officer return to the helicopter. Had they been left behind?

  ****

  Ellie Pickett, twenty-two years old and a recent college graduate, was home for the summer. Hot, humid weather had forced her out of the house and onto a blanket spread on the grass. Today she'd decided to relax and read a book. The last couple of days had been particularly trying because her job search was going nowhere. Applications with her qualifications were scattered all over her small home town. So far there had been no responses.

  For the third time, Ellie applied sunscreen to her lightly tanned skin. With a sigh of contentment, she stretched and watched clouds float across the sky. As a child, she had played a game of naming the shapes of clouds. Grinning, she whispered, "That looks like a sheaf of hay and that one favors a king. That one looks like a plump, white sheep." She studied the clouds until raised voices captured her attention.

  "You did what?" said a woman's irritated voice.

  "Carla, calm down," Ellie's father, Jake, said with forced laughter.

  Carla stomped the dry ground and kicked up dust. "Why didn't you ask me first? Don't we have enough people sucking off of us already? How many mouths do you think we can support?"

  Ellie cringed at her stepmother's words. The comment about people "sucking" was obviously directed toward her. Listening intently, she heard her father's response. "I didn't ask because I didn't think you'd care. I mean, I'm helping an old friend."

  "Yeah, Jake, exactly—an old friend. One you had before me. What if he doesn't like me? What if–"

  Ellie sat up and watched the couple standing by the fence. Carla was playing with her father's collar, a flirty smile on her face. Jake pulled her against his body. "Now that's ridiculous. How could anyone not like you?"

  Ellie squelched her disgust. Standing, she cleared her throat and slapped her thighs loudly.

  Startled, Jake and Carla veered their heads in her direction. "Oh Ellie, I didn't see you," said her dad.

  Ellie nodded and picked up her things, trying to avoid her stepmother's scowl. Walking toward them, she asked, "What's going on?"

  Carla wrapped a possessive arm through Jake's. "Your father has invited a friend and his son to live at the farm for awhile."

  Her father sighed. "You make it sound like they're coming as burdens or something."

  Carla's gave him a disgusted look. "In my opinion, they are burdens. I don't know why they're coming and I don't care. I'm going to the house." She stalked away.

  Ellie asked, "Want to explain to me why these people are coming?"

  Jake leaned against the fence railing. Ellie mimicked her father's posture and waited. On the other side of the fence cows plucked lazily at the grass. Ellie thought about the simplicity of the life of an animal. Nature provided for them. They didn't fret over what would happen, day to day. They lived in the moment.

  Ellie released a breath and waited for her father's reply. She wasn't in a hurry. She could stand and watch the beauty of nature all day. Her father's voice sounded thick as he sought understanding. "It's really not a big deal. Do you remember Shane Wiseman?" She nodded and studied his work roughened hands as he gestured with them. "He's fallen on hard times and, well, lately, running the farm alone has gotten more difficult. So I thought we could help each other. He and his son are going to stay in the old cabin and lend a hand for a small salary; nothing major."

  Ellie shrugged. "Sounds okay to me."

  Jake glanced at the house. "I wish Carla felt the same way. I think she's worried because Shane was friends with your mother and me."

  Ellie patted his arm wanting to give a measure of comfort. "I'm sure everything will work out. And when they get here, I bet Carla will be just fine. By the way, when are they arriving?"

  "They'll be here tomorrow."

  ****

  The truck's wheels rotated, eating up the miles. Flat land with stray trees and occasional buildings flashed past. Deep in Alabama a small replica of the Statue of Liberty caught the eye of passersby, causing an immediate sense of patriotism.

  "Its beautiful country, isn't it, Nicholas?" said his father as he steered north bound along the interstate.

  Nicholas nodded in agreement because he didn't feel able to speak. The dream was still fresh in his mind. Swallowing hard, he wondered if he'd cried out in his sleep. Had his father seen his distress?

  He glanced sideways, and for the first time in months, noticed that Shane Wiseman actually appeared happy. His dad's fingers drummed the steering wheel in rhythm to a tune blaring from the radio and his lips twitched upward. A light shined behind the old man's pale blue eyes. While Nicholas watched, however, his father's smile faded and a line creased his forehead. Shane said, "Nick, you really don't have to do this, you know."

  Before Nicholas could reply, his dad continued, "I know you think I need help, but really I don't. I can do this on my own." Nicholas started to interrupt, but Shane stopped him with an upraised hand. "Listen son, truth is, I relied on your mother for just about everything. She liked to feel needed. And now that she's gone, well, I can take care of myself." He sighed, "Heck, I'm glad you're coming with me. I just don't want you to feel obligated to help dear old dad."

  Nicholas noted the half-smile, half-grimace on his father's face. Nodding his understanding, he shifted his focus back outside the passenger window. His anger remained too close to the surface. Sharing his true feelings wouldn't accomplish anything. What was done was done, and it could never be rectified.

  Memories flooded of a generous, loving woman—a woman who had cared for her family, helped the elderly, visited the sick, and taken food to shut-ins; a woman who had organized bake sales and fundraisers to raise money for homeless shelters; a woman, wife, and mother, who had wanted to make the world a better place. Nicholas could only view her as a saint.

  His chest tightened and he released a pent up breath. He missed his mother more with each passing day. It didn't matter that he
was twenty-six years old, a military veteran, or a college graduate. He still missed her like a small child who's been away from his mother too long.

  Two years ago, Amy Denise Wiseman, had been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. With her normal intrepid nature, she'd fought with every fiber of her being. She'd followed her doctor's orders to the letter. When his treatments had failed, alternative medicines and remedies had been sought and explored. But in the end, nothing helped.

  Nicholas had been on tour in Afghanistan and received frequent updates from his father. Most of the updates were of her degenerating condition. When he'd gone missing, all he could think about was how it would affect his mother's illness. He'd tried to ignore his inner turmoil, believing his mother was invincible; that she could overcome this latest challenge.

  Months after being freed, he'd been ready to sign reenlistment papers, but received the dreaded call. The one he'd hoped would never come.

  "Son, I'm afraid your mother's not going to make it."

  Nicholas had declined to sign the papers and immediately sought emergency leave. When he'd arrived home, his mother's frail body could do nothing more than breathe. Helpless, he'd sat by her side and held the hand of someone who had helped so many. Amy Wiseman was nothing more than a shell. Then she died.

  The funeral was packed. People from every walk of life wanted to attend and share their memories of this wonderful woman. Cancer patients from the hospital shared how she had encouraged them. Doctors shared her courage and fortitude. Everyone had a fond memory to pass along. Nicholas had listened and filed the testimonies away. Yet, to this day, bitterness and resentment over her death ruled his life.

  After the funeral, his father had taken him aside. "Nick, we need to talk." The serious tone of Shane's voice had made Nicholas' heart skip a beat. They'd sat together on the couch with Shane wringing his hands. Nicholas had covered them with his own and listened to his father. "I want you to know I tried everything. I…well…I had to make some tough decisions while your mother was sick."

  "I understand." His dad's uneasiness instilled fear of what was to come.

  "I mortgaged the house to pay for her treatments and the bank is foreclosing."

  Nicholas remembered shouting, "What about the insurance? You paid them for years and–"

  His father had placed his arm around Nicholas, offering a reassuring squeeze. "They did pay. They paid a lot. But what they paid for didn't work. I searched the internet and found experimental treatments. The insurance company had a panel review my request for alternative care, but in the end, their answer was no. Your mother insisted it wasn't worth losing the house, our savings, everything, just to try unproven treatments. But I told her I'd risk losing everything to save her." His shoulders sagged. "And I did."

  After hearing his father's confession, it had taken Nicholas days to work through his shock. When he could think clearly again, he'd contacted the bank and did everything but beg on his knees for a reprieve, but with no luck.

  The house had foreclosed and most of its possessions sold to cover funeral costs and medical bills. When things couldn't look worse, his father had received a letter terminating his employment. In a week's time their whole world had turned upside down.

  Although his father encouraged him to go back in the military or start a career with his degree, Nicholas couldn't leave his dad alone in such a situation. The decision to stay and assist was the reason he was now speeding down the highway to a new and unknown destiny.

  Chapter Two

  The internet software program had calculated the trip from Livingston Parrish, Louisiana, to backwater Tennessee, as being a little over ten hours. The trip's length had increased considerably because of frequent stops to eat and switch drivers.

  Nicholas said, "At the risk of sounding like a whiny child, are we almost there?"

  Shane laughed, "If the old GPS is working, then we have about thirty minutes to go. Do you think we should stop before we get there? Maybe freshen up?"

  Nicholas checked the time. If they kept going they would arrive at exactly five o'clock. Right now, the last thing he wanted was to get out of the truck and get back in. "When are they expecting us?"

  Shane scratched his head. "I told Jake he would see us around dinner time."

  "I say we push on. Thirty minutes and its over, right?"

  "Yep," said his dad, with a huge grin.

  Off the Interstate, the four lane road went for twelve miles—twelve long miles—until it narrowed and changed into two lanes that stretched as far as the eye could see. Large flat areas with houses dotted either side of the highway. Cows and horses grazed in pastures. Beyond the houses, pointed mountains rose with trees lining the peaks.

  The truck's angle changed when they pulled onto a private driveway and the vehicle bounced along a gravel road in the direction of the mountain range. Wooden fences sprang up on either side of the road. The fence on the right bordered an open field with some scattered cows, and the one on the left set the boundary for row after row of green crops. In the distance, a white dot of a ranch house grew larger the closer they came. Then they were there. A tall, black gate in the middle of the road had been opened. Scripted in iron were the words, "Pickett Ranch".

  Nicholas swallowed the lump in his throat. When Shane had said he was coming to help a friend, he'd thought his dad had secured a job working at a local business. But working on a ranch? This was nowhere near what he'd imagined. In his memory, his father had no experience with ranch life. What could he possibly do here?

  "Nicholas James, I feel your tension from here. Would you stop worrying? Everything is going to work out fine."

  "Dad, are you crazy! A ranch! We're from Louisiana—land of swamps, alligators, snakes, and bayous. How are we–"

  His father squeezed his arm, imploring him, "Trust me."

  Nicholas nodded and his father drove to the front of the farm house. He didn't move until Shane made a shooing motion with his hands. Nicholas stepped out of the truck. The smell of fresh air assailed him and the beauty of the place immediately took his breath away.

  A two-story, white house with a wraparound porch greeted them. Red rose bushes, azaleas in various colors, and other colorful plants were used to accentuate the house's lack of color. The sound of his father clearing his throat snapped Nicholas back to reality and he noticed they were no longer alone.

  Three people had walked onto the porch. One was a man with black graying hair, tanned skin, and a welcoming smile. Clinging to him like glue was a tall, lanky woman, with bleached blonde hair and a mask of make-up. A stretchy fabric covered her body like a second skin.

  Nicholas watched as Shane closed his truck door and started toward the couple. Before he reached the porch, the older man rushed and wrapped Shane in a hug. Releasing him, he fell back and pumped his hand. "Shane Wiseman, you old coot, how are you? It's been way too long."

  "Jake Pickett, you old fossil. It's good to see you, too." Backslapping and joking continued for a few moments before Nicholas was summoned forward. Shane said, "This here is my son, Nicholas. I hope you don't mind him coming along. He wanted to help his old man settle in."

  Jake shook his hand. "Not at all. Welcome Nicholas, we're glad to have you."

  The blonde sauntered forward. Gum in the shape of a bubble popped as she extended a ringed hand toward his father and an odor of noxious perfume wafted up Nicholas' nose. "I guess I'll introduce myself. Hi, I'm Carla Pickett."

  Jake shifted nervously as Shane shook her hand. After the handshake, Jake glanced behind him and urged another person forward. Nicholas watched a young woman descend the porch steps. She wore baggy jeans and a loose fitting T-shirt. Her black hair was swept back into a long pony tail. Although her face was clean of make-up, she was exceptionally pretty. The only jewelry he could see was a necklace in the shape of a locket. Her lips twitched upwards in a smile as she shot a hand toward his father.

  Jake said, "Shane, you remember my daughter, Ellie. She just grad
uated from college and has decided to stay with us until she finds a job."

  "Pleased to see you again, Ellie." Shane extended his hand.

  "It's a pleasure seeing you again, too." She shook his hand and turned her gaze on Nicholas and he noted the color of her eyes. They were like shiny emeralds. "Nice to meet you, too."

  Nicholas suddenly felt like an awkward schoolboy. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded. The awkward moment was broken when Jake clapped his hands. "Hey, I guess you two might like to settle in. Let's hop back in your truck and I'll take you to your new place." With a glance at his wife, he said, "I'll be back in a bit."

  Carla's face showed stress lines at the corners of her eyes, but a smile remained plastered on her face. Jake pointed toward a narrow road which was almost overtaken by weeds. The truck dropped into huge potholes, bouncing them up and down.

  "Just to let you know, I have to take you the long way round to get you there, but you're closer to the main house than you think. There's a walking trail that takes no time at all."

  They traveled in silence for a minute and then a whoosh of air escaped Jake's lips. "I'm sorry, Shane. I know I should have warned you about me being remarried and all. Carla's insecure about being the second wife, but I know she'll be more comfortable with you in time."

  "I can see why she'd be insecure," mumbled his father.

  "Dad!" exclaimed Nicholas, turning to glare at him.

  Jake's shook his head. "No your father's right. She's kind of young."

  "Kind of? Jake have you looked at the girl?"

  The road ended. In front of them was a small wooden cabin. Huge maple trees closed in on the building. The appearance of the place brought the discussion of Carla's youth and insecurity to a close. Exiting the truck, Nicholas eyed the house warily.

  Jake said, "I know it doesn't look like much on the outside, but just give it a chance before you decide."