was the banjo more important to you than your other possessions?” Amelia asked, wondering about his choice.
“This was my daddy’s banjo,” he said, patting the instrument fondly. “I prize it more than anything else I have.”
“The Red Cross has a shelter set up not far from Williamson,” Chase said. “We have a Jeep parked down the road about a mile, and we can take you to the shelter.”
“No, thanks.”
“But, Mr….” Chase paused. “I guess we haven’t been introduced. I’m Chase Ramsey, and this is Amelia Stone. We’re working with the Red Cross to help flood victims.”
“My name’s Willie Honaker. Call me Willie.”
“But, Willie, you shouldn’t stay here,” Amelia said. “The road has washed away, and no vehicles can drive up the hollow to bring fuel or food for you.”
“I ain’t leavin’ my home. The forepart of the house is stable, and my fireplace is all right. The water didn’t get upstairs, and I’ve got a bed up there. I aim to watch over my things and protect my neighbors’ homes from thieves until they can come back. We ain’t got much left, but I’m staying here.”
Amelia slanted an apprehensive look toward Chase. It would be a long time before the road would be passable for any of these residents to come home, let alone any thieves.
“There’ll be government grants to help you rebuild, I’d imagine. In the meantime, you’d be more comfortable at the shelter,” she insisted.
Willie resumed his seat in the chair, and slowly rocked back and forth, shaking his head negatively. “Nope. I don’t want government help. I’ve been lookin’ after myself for a long time. If you’ve got any more water or candy bars, I’ll make do until some of my kin come to look about me.”
Not knowing how many other needy people they’d encounter before the day was over, Chase gave Willie only half of the provisions he carried.
Before they left, Chase explained to Willie about the hazardous road they’d encountered. “Is there an easier way to get back to Williamson?”
Willie’s clear black eyes widened in astonishment.
“Man, you surely didn’t take a road across the mountain!”
“Rick Smith said to take the first road to the left. That’s what I did.”
“You must have been on a log road, made by contractors who’ve timbered that mountain. How’d you do it?”
With an embarrassed laugh, Chase said, “It wasn’t easy.”
“Young feller, I’d say you’re a pretty good driver or you’d still be on top of the mountain. You just follow the road in the creek valley, and it’ll take you to the highway.”
Although he’d been in doubt about whether he should stay any longer in the disaster area, on the way back to the Jeep, Chase made up his mind. He received four weeks’ vacation each year, and he’d take part of it to help here. He would get in touch with the bank to make arrangements if he could find a place to use his cell phone.
Would Amelia be pleased that he was staying? As they plodded through the thick mud, he told Amelia the decision he’d made. She nodded without saying anything, and he couldn’t tell from her expression if she was annoyed, pleased or just didn’t care what he did. He compared the Amelia he’d known to the woman with him today.
Because Amelia’s mother had kept her in new clothes, and since she’d had an unlimited credit card, she’d set the fashion on campus. She’d bought anything that had caught her eye, and all clothes had looked good on her. Amelia hadn’t been a snob, but because of her affluence, she’d outclassed most of the other students. She’d been a beautiful girl, and he’d wanted her the first time he’d seen her.
The roadbed was narrow in places, and Amelia walked in front of him, allowing ample opportunity for Chase to consider the person she’d become—a tall, willowy woman with a resolute mouth, candid dark eyes and long, very straight, brown hair that, today, fell in scraggly tufts over her shoulders. In her college days, she wouldn’t have been caught dead looking as she did now. Soft rain had started, and they’d forgotten to bring their raincoats. Amelia’s heavy sweater was soaked. Her jeans were splashed with mud, and the boots that had been clean and shiny this morning were filthy. She limped from weariness, and Chase figured that Amelia had never spent such a miserable day. Yet she hadn’t complained once, and sympathy for Willie Honaker had brought tears to her eyes.
Chase knew that thinking of “what might have been” was futile, but momentarily he wondered what their lives would be like now if their marriage hadn’t failed and they’d continued to live together.
Amelia slipped in the mud, and he reached a hand to help her. She steadied herself without his assistance and moved on, unaware that he was watching her. Chase knew he couldn’t redeem the past, but what did he want from Amelia now? Was it too late for them to start over? Did he want another chance with Amelia?
While the idea stirred his emotions, he questioned if Amelia would welcome an opportunity to start over. He recalled her words when they’d left the lawyer’s office on the day their divorce had been finalized.
“When we married, Chase, I meant it when I said, ‘‘Til death do us part.’ But I couldn’t see any way out except for a divorce, and I’m glad it’s over. Please stay out of my life. I don’t want to see you again.”
He’d taken Amelia at her word and had made no effort to contact her. Had time caused a change in her feelings toward him, or did she still feel the same way?
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