Catch a Falling Star (3 page)

Pain, Justine’s constant companion, rode home with her after physical therapy. And she rode home with Billy Tucker. Her hands throbbed, even though she’d popped a pill. She hated pills. Too many people had grown dependent on them, and she wasn’t about to follow their lead, especially with her track record.

“You doing okay?” Billy asked.

“I’ve been a lot worse.” She looked down at her hands, securely wrapped in the braces. “This first appointment was a killer. I’ve sort of slacked off on exercises lately. I almost feel like I‘m starting over again with physical therapy.”

“Yeah. Those follow-ups are hard.” Billy studied the road ahead of them.

He hadn’t said much about his own appointment, but she noticed his hand shook a little on the steering wheel. Both of them broken but on their way to healing. She liked the idea that someone else knew what she was going through.

“You didn’t wear your boots today,” she observed.

“Nah. I needed to work on them some after getting caught in the rain the other night.”

“Oh. Sorry about that. I do appreciate you coming to pick me up.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault I wasn’t thinking.”

“So. Do you work on boots?”

“Here and there.”

What a pleasantly vague response. “Here and there. Did you make yours?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Wow. They’re good. Really good.” She’d seen plenty of footwear, and few rivaled the boots Billy wore.

“Thanks. I learned from an old boot maker. The guy was a legend. I’m still learning.” He shrugged. “I started before I left for Iraq, then tried picking it up again after. . .after I came home.”

“Well. . . .” She looked at her hands, then at him. “Would you teach me some leather working? The physical therapist says I need to work with my hands. I don’t want to sit in a leather class with a bunch of old people, stamping out wallets. I want to make something important. Like boots.”

“It’s harder than it looks. Tedious and boring, even.”

“But you know how to do it. You could show me. I’m a quick study.”

“I’m really sort of busy.”

“You have a leather studio. Azalea told me.”

Billy frowned. “She did, did she?”

Justine nodded. “I’m serious. I want to learn. I can pay you for your time, too.”

“Do you think you can buy whatever you want?”

“What kind of a question is that? You’re a talented boot maker, no matter how you try to brush it off.” Justine’s cheeks stung. “And no, I can’t buy whatever I want, thank you very much.”

The silence crackled between them in the truck. Here she was, trying to compliment the guy, and he was giving her a hard time.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Billy finally said. “You’re not the only one in pain right now.”

“I know.” She glared out the window at the wide blue sky. She ought to be at the beach, lying in the sun, recuperating. Someone could bring her a cold drink, and she could sit and read with her electronic book reader all afternoon. Then a massage before a light supper, followed by watching the sun slip behind the Pacific.

But no, she was riding down a highway in central Texas with a semi-grouchy former soldier. He didn’t know her, not at all. Her earlier thoughts of someone else understanding what she’d gone through fizzled.

Right now Justine felt like Azalea Bush was her only friend, her only ally in the place she swore she’d never come back to for any length of time. She’d gotten up her nerve and called Sunday night, but only got her voice mail. She couldn’t think of a message that didn’t sound completely pathetic, so she hung up without leaving one. Three days of being in town and not a peep from her mother.

They finally reached Starlight after a silence-filled ride. Instead of heading to the Cedar Grove development, Billy turned the truck, heading past the south end of town. The limestone bluffs gave way to the gentle rise and fall of the edge of the hill country.

“Where are we going?” She glanced Billy’s way.

His dark eyes snapped their focus in her direction. “You wanted to see about the boots.”

“It doesn’t have to be today.”

“It’s okay. I figure I won’t get much peace until you see the boots and my sister gets to meet you.” A dimple winked at her in his cheek. “That is, if
you
don’t mind.”

“You’re the driver,” she fired back at him. She felt a laugh tickle the back of her throat. Now where had that teasing come from? She hadn’t meant to sound demanding. Tyler often accused her of being difficult, but then he had her matched in that department.

Billy Tucker, though, hadn’t been difficult. They followed the winding road that somehow had gone from four lanes to two. The land spread out in front of them, lined with barbed wire fences interrupted by the occasional driveways framed with metal or stone arches.

At the top of one hill, the road snaked away from them. She figured they could see a good ten miles to the south. Pretty. She had a pricier view in Los Angeles, but this one reminded her of how close the area still remained to its roots, and they were the newcomers.

“I never get tired of the view,” Billy said, as if he knew what she was thinking. “Dad bought the acreage after he retired from the Army in 2000. We’re not as far out from town as we used to be, with the newer housing developments expanding. But we don’t get much light pollution here at all.” He slowed the truck and turned into a driveway flanked by a pair of limestone pillars monogrammed with a capital T, capped by lanterns. A smaller sign in front of the right pillar said
Home of Tucker Boots
.

They bounced along the dirt and gravel driveway, and Justine clutched the armrest with one hand and her cane with the other.

Billy slowed down. “Sorry about that. The truck sorta gets a mind of her own when we’re headed for the garage.”

“Just like a horse?”

“Something like that.”

They passed a field of live oak trees, their spindly branches reaching toward the blue sky, and Justine caught her first glimpse of the Tucker house. A white, sprawling ranch house of limestone with a green metal roof sat at an angle facing the driveway. Not far away stood a large metal garage and a small stone building that wore another
Tucker Boots
sign. In the distance, alongside the driveway that continued through the ranch yard, lay a neat little wooden cottage.

“This is beautiful.” Her throat caught at the sight. “Do you. . . Do you have any cattle?”

“A few. It’s a hobby, not like a real working ranch, though. And we have horses.” Billy honked the horn twice and pulled up in front of the one-room stone building. “But here’s where I do my boots.”

He cut the engine, left the truck, then appeared at her door before she’d gathered up her purse and her cane. He opened the door for her. She hadn’t had anyone open her door since the last time she’d used valet parking.

“Why thank you, Mr. Tucker.” She shifted and managed to get herself down from the truck seat. He stepped back and let her get her footing. She liked that about him. He didn’t hover like some guys would, but gave her a chance to stand on her own. Tyler had driven her nearly insane with his attentiveness. She appreciated his concern, but the man practically smothered her. Which made his nearly week-long silence concern her. Not a phone call, e-mail, or text message.

“Billy. It’s just Billy.” He jerked his head in the direction of the building. “Come see where I work, Miss Insistent.” He ambled over to the shop door.

Was he being sarcastic with her? She followed as quickly as she could. Maybe she should have just told him to take her home.

A bang from the direction of the main house made them both look in that direction.

“Oh,
you’re
here!” A girl around fifteen years old skidded to a stop in front of Billy’s truck. She touched her hair and stood up straighter, tugging on the hem of her T-shirt. “You. You’re Justine Campbell.”

“That’s me.” She extended her hand for the girl to shake. “Nice to meet you. . .”

“Madelynn Tucker.” The young woman grinned. “But you can call me Maddie.”

Justine had seen people with the same expression hundreds of times. The glow of meeting a celebrity, followed by an apologetic look for being ordinary. Truth was, everyone was ordinary, she’d discovered.

She smiled at Maddie. “Your brother’s been playing chauffeur for me since I’ve been back in town.” Chauffeur. Bad word choice, as if he were hired help. She almost cringed. Hopefully their truce would last.

“He’s just the best, isn’t he?” Maddie’s adoring expression transferred itself to Billy, who shifted on his sneakered feet and glanced toward his workshop.

“He’s a hero.” Justine swallowed hard as Billy practically squirmed.

“Maddie,” Billy cut in, “Ms. Campbell’s here to see my workshop, and then I’m bringing her home. We’ve both had a hard day at therapy.”

“Oh. Okay,” Maddie replied, unfazed at her brother’s squelching tone. So the guy wasn’t grouchy with only Justine.

“I’ll come over again sometime if you’d like. You have a beautiful spread here. It’s very peaceful.”

At Justine’s remark, Maddie clamped her hands on Billy’s arm. “Billy, she’s going to come back. Did you hear? This is so awesome.” She pulled something out of her pocket. “Ms. Justine, can I ask a favor?”

Justine froze. Maddie held a cell phone. Neil had given her strict instructions to control current images of herself as much as possible, and one of the reasons she’d returned to Starlight was to be in a more controlled environment. But people with cell phones were everywhere.

Maddie’s brown eyes pleaded. Billy opened his mouth. “Now, Maddie—”

It’s okay, Billy,” Justine said. “But I want the picture to be of you and me, Maddie. C’mon over here.”

“Vanessa is
never
going to believe this.” Maddie took a few steps to stand next to Justine.

“Okay.” Justine leaned her cane on the side of the truck
.
Then she
 
stepped closer to Maddie and slipped her arm around the girl’s shoulders. The teenager’s grin blinded her, even looking at the kid sideways.

Justine relaxed, tilting her head a little toward Maddie.

“Say cheese, Mads,” Billy said. He snapped the picture and returned the phone back to Maddie in one swift movement.  “Well, let’s get to the workshop.”

Maddie looked at her phone. “Oh, it’s a great picture—see?”

She held the phone up to Justine. The two of them grinned back, looking windswept and squinting slightly from the bright sunlight. Not for the first time, Justine felt the pang of missing a sibling. She’d liked being an only child until the past few years, listening to her few friends talk about going home over the holidays and getting together with brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews. Justine had no one but Mom.

“That’s a
great
picture.” Much better than the ones she’d seen of herself lately.

Billy turned back toward the single-story limestone building with a tin roof. It looked barely bigger than her foyer at home. “C’mon. I’ll show you what I’m working on now.”             

Justine grabbed her cane. She found herself needing it more than usual. Billy was in his home surroundings, and she’d never seen him more relaxed. Even with her around. But worry deepened in his eyes when he looked at Maddie. Yes, she didn’t envy him and his brother keeping an eye on a fifteen-year-old. She remembered how she was at the same age.

Billy unlocked the simple wooden door. “This is the first building on this property, built by Ira Hamilton, one of the first settlers in Starlight back in the 1870s. He had a ranch here since it was so close to the Santa Fe Railroad. After a family feud, the property was subdivided and sold off in parcels. Dad snapped this up as soon as he could after we moved here.”

The limestone glowed in the June sunlight, and once inside the low building, Justine blinked at the sudden darkness. The scent of leather and oil tickled her nose.

Billy flipped the light switch. Strips of leather covered a long wooden work table.  A rack of tools, stamps, and a set of hammers were tucked close to the wall.

Some kind of stretching tool clamped a boot upside down.. Heels and soles of different sizes fit into little cubbies next to the stretcher.

The upper part of the boot sported the Texas flag flanked by a pair of pistols and a yellow rose at the bottom.

“Wow, those are gorgeous.” Justine looked at the uppers more closely. “It’s amazing, all the detail you can include with these.”

“It’s taken me a couple of months to get this far on them,” Billy said. “They’ll be done by the Fourth of July, though, for the customer.”

“How much does a pair like this run?”

“Close to eight hundred dollars.”

“They’re for the governor!” blurted Maddie.

Billy gave his sister a sharp look. “I’m not supposed to talk about them. Not yet.”

“Ha,” said Justine. “I’m not about to call the networks or anything. These are truly magnificent, Billy.”