Home At Last Chance (Last Chance #2)(44)
Author: Hope Ramsay

This particular soybean field belonged to a person named Old Man Nelson.

“It’s over here,” Tulane said, taking Sarah’s hand like a little kid and pulling her down the row toward a giant live oak that stood smack-dab in the middle of the field.

Sarah was dressed for the outing in a pair of sneakers and shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. Her skin reeked of sunblock. Ruby had been sure to hand her a large tube of the stuff when they stopped by the Cut ’n Curl earlier in the day to say hi. Ruby had given her a whole lecture on the Southern sun and what it was likely to do to her fair skin and freckled face.

Sunblock notwithstanding, Sarah was glad when they reached the shade of the tree. Its gnarled roots and spreading branches made it a great climbing tree. It had to be very old, and its bark was marked with hundreds of carved initials.

“Shoot,” Tulane said as he ducked under the oak’s branches. “There isn’t any space left, is there?”

He sounded so disappointed. This business of coming out here and carving their names was very important to him. His parents’ names were somewhere on that tree, and so were Stony’s and Sharon’s, and Clay’s and Jane’s, and from the looks of it, most of the couples who lived in Last Chance.

“I guess we’ll have to bypass the graffiti,” she said gently. “I’m sure you’re relieved. I’ve heard all about Clay’s tree house and how you fell out of it when you were twelve and almost died. Your mother explained that you’ve been afraid of heights ever since.”

Tulane turned around and stared at her. “You don’t understand. We have to do this. It’s a tradition.”

She glanced over at the tree. The trunk was easily eight feet in diameter, and every inch of it was covered with carvings. The carvings ran from the roots all the way past the first branches, which forked from the trunk about seven feet from the ground. It looked as if lovers had been forced up to those first branches to find pristine bark to destroy. The carvings wound around the trunk at least fifteen feet up.

“I’m amazed there are that many lovers in Last Chance,” she said.

“Generations of folks have carved their names in this tree. Look yonder.” He pointed to an old carving bearing the initials CR and EA. “That’s Chance Rhodes’s carving.”

“You mean the guy who lost the plantation in that card game and condemned your family to generations of poverty and the occasional angel sighting?”

“Yeah, him. He started the tradition. And we’re going to continue it, but before I have to man up and go climb that tree, there’s something we need to discuss.”

“What?”

“I want to move back to Last Chance. I want to make my home here. I want to be part of Hettie’s committee, and I want to do more. I want to help this town rebuild itself. Shoot, Sarah, all this land used to belong to my kin, but my stupid ancestor lost it all in a card game. I want to get it back.”

“Because you don’t want people to laugh at you?”

He shook his head. “No. I just want to do the right thing. And, honey, that’s what I love the most about you. You make me feel like a grown-up man, and you make me want to be worthy of that feeling. And, also, you’re on the side of the angels, which in my family doesn’t exactly hurt.”

She laughed.

“So you wouldn’t mind living here?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Oh, Tulane, I can’t think of another place I’d rather call home. I love this place.”

“That’s good, because we have an appointment with a realtor after I finish with carving our names. And after that, we’ve got a meeting with Reverend Ellis. I figure we better get married quick, especially since everyone knows we spent that afternoon at the Peach Blossom Motor Court.”

“Well, I’m not worried about the Last Chance ladies. And I’m okay with a quick wedding, before my mother decides to plan it for us.”

“Good,” Tulane said. “So, there’s only one more detail I need to clear up, and then I guess I’ve got to go climb that tree.”

“Are you stalling?”

“Maybe a little.” He reached into his jeans and pulled out a little red leather box. “You need a ring.”

“Oh!”

He handed her the box. “Look, if you don’t like it, I’m sure we can—”

“I’m sure I’ll like it.” She opened the top of the box and found an old-fashioned ring of rose gold with a fiery opal in its center.

“It’s beautiful. Wherever did you find it?”

“It belonged to her.” He nodded toward the tree and the initials EA. “Elizabeth Ames. It’s been handed down for years. It was the one thing Chance Rhodes didn’t lose in that card game. Momma wore it for a long time, and so did Sharon, but…” His voice faded out.

“Oh, Tulane, did Stone give you this?”

He nodded. “I told him I was going down to the jewelers to look for a ring, and he insisted that I have this one.”

“I can’t—”

“Stony wants someone to wear it. He hates the fact that it’s been sitting in a box, gathering dust. It’s important to him that you have it. He thinks you’re good for me, which probably explains why he didn’t give the ring to Clay for Jane. I’m afraid that Stone and Jane got off on the wrong foot with each other. But I bet he eventually comes around. Stone moves like a glacier on a lot of things.”

Sarah nodded. Poor, brokenhearted Stone. She understood. Stone didn’t intend to ever marry again.

She took the ring out of the box and slipped it on her left hand. It fit perfectly. “The green in this opal is the same color as your eyes,” she whispered.

The next moment she was in his arms, being thoroughly kissed. The kiss was heading in an entirely predictable direction when Tulane gently pushed back.

“Uh, I would love to get sidetracked, honey, but we have appointments this afternoon. I think I need to screw my courage up and go climb that tree.”

“You know you don’t have to do that. We could pretend we did it.”

“Honey, we’re not going to lie about this, okay? And besides, it’s important.”

He turned and studied the oak. “Man, it looks like Clay had to climb all the way up that branch. Look, up there, there’s Clay’s and Jane’s initials.” He pointed to a spot about fourteen feet up, where the initials WJC and CPR had been carved.

“All right, if we have to do it, you could lift me up and I could—”

“I am climbing this tree, Sarah, even though it scares the crap out of me. I need to fly.” He said this with a firm nod of his head. Then he gave her an adorable look and asked, “Got any fairy dust, Tinkerbell?”

“No,” she said. “No fairy dust. But I promise you, I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.”