Chapter 1

Chad pulled into his driveway at 6:45 pm, wrapping up the long trip from the oil fields in just under seven hours. He could’ve made it sooner in his wife’s Rogue, but he was stuck with the old RAM 2500. Seven hours of boredom, broken by good music, monotonous commercial interjections, and bland PSAs: “Lottery officials remain baffled by the single remaining winning ticket that has gone unclaimed since last month’s record drawing.”

Yeah, if only, right? he thought.

As jobs went, it wasn’t bad. He’d been hired as a diesel mechanic and welder, but his skills and work ethic quickly made him a pipefitting supervisor. He had stayed five extra days this go-round for a nice bonus, so he would only have eight days to enjoy with the family before the long drive back.

There was still plenty of mid-July daylight when he pulled up to his home. He sat in the truck for a moment, absorbing the quiet. Why was it so quiet? Bobby should’ve been outside racing over to greet him, followed by Elvis, his loyal Rottweiler. He glanced at the overgrown lawn with disgust, knowing it was beneath his older two to take any initiative and mow it. Their mother couldn’t be bothered to ask them either.

Opening the truck door, he heard urgent barking from inside, so he pulled his tired body from the rig and grabbed his duffle before heading in. He didn’t bother to open the garage to see if Molly’s Nissan was there; his truck wouldn’t have fit beside it anyway.

The front door was locked, suggesting the rest of the family was out. Keying the bolt, he braced himself and pushed the door open. As expected, Elvis nearly knocked him over, eager to greet him. “Hey, Bud! Damn! Oof! Good to see you too, old boy!” He staggered into the entryway and set down his duffle to use both hands to hug, pet, and wrestle with the hyper animal. “Where’s everyone at, eh?” He looked around the great room for clues. Seeing none, he wandered into the kitchen and dining area. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he popped it and drank half in three swallows.

Curiously, he wandered the main level and called upstairs without expecting an answer. It was odd that nobody was home, and no messages were flashing on the landline. On the way home, he turned on his cell and found that he’d had two messages the previous week. One was from Molly, reminding him of Billy’s 18th birthday this week, and Otis had called to ask him to visit the garage when he was back in town.

As he finished the beer, he saw no notes or indications of where they might have gone. He could’ve called her cell phone, but fatigue overrode his curiosity. He dumped his duffle in the laundry room, removed the small box, and kicked off his work boots before climbing the stairs to the master bedroom.

He found the bed neatly made and everything in order, which reassured him that everything would be sorted eventually. Wearily, he sat on the bed, removed his dirty t-shirt, and placed the small box on the nightstand before lying back for a brief siesta.

Chadwick Hartley, 37, was six months older than his wife of 18 years. An only child from an Iowa farm, he learned the value of hard work early on. High school felt like a reward from long days in the fields. By age 12, he was 6 feet tall and 200 pounds; by his senior year, he had added five inches and 45 pounds. He enjoyed wrestling and excelled at it, despite giving it little effort. His dad was a hard sell for the coaches and counselors who saw state titles and scholarships in his future, while the senior Hartley focused on farming and harvests. However, his mom often convinced his dad to let him compete. As a result, Chad made it to State three years in a row. Wrestling was popular in their Iowa town, and he was frequently praised.

He was 17 when he met Molly. She wasn’t the girl next door—her parents homeschooled her and her sister Florence, so she didn’t get out much. They met at the county fair while he was in line for the tractor pull with his best friend, Otis ‘Oty’ Strickland. Despite their light banter, he couldn’t stop gazing at the raven-haired beauty. She stood 5’9”, and from behind, he thought she was ravishing. Her hair was in a ponytail that swung between her shoulder blades, and a thin white tank top clung to her torso, not entirely covering her midriff before the tightest pair of Daisy Dukes took over. Her skin was olive-toned, and her legs seemed to go on forever, ending in adorable feet and flip-flops. He felt lightheaded from the fragrance of her perfume.

He grunted from a sharp jab to his left kidney, startling her. His eyes widened, and then he blinked back tears as Otis jabbed again. “Hey, Tree! Where your mind at boy? You still working on that combine?” Otis snickered and winked at the shy girl in front of them. “Or something else—” he laughed.

Her crystal blue eyes glanced back at them, switching between the two. She nervously turned back. Chad’s older sidekick smacked him again, “C’mon, Tree! Wake up! Say hi to the lady.”

Chad grunted irritably and shrugged off his buddy’s shoves. “You’ll be lucky to wake up if ya don’t knock it off, dude,” he growled. This prompted her to look back at his startled face. She smiled weakly before looking down at their feet.

“I’m sorry about him, Ma’am,” Otis grinned at her. His white teeth contrasted with his black skin, but his eyes glinted with raw humor. “Ya’ see? Tree here, he got the social graces of an ox, and with the fairer sex ... well, he’s a work in progress.” Caught up in his wit, he laughed and shook his head.

With a giggle, she glanced up at Chad’s stricken face.

When he looked down at her, he envisioned a mysterious gypsy fortune teller. His face flushed, and she looked away nervously. “Why do you call him Tree?” she asked his skinny black friend.

Otis cackled. “Hah! That’s one of old Chad-boy’s nicknames—look at him! On the wrestling team, Tree is known and feared across state lines. On the mat, they call him ‘Blackout’ ‘cause that’s the last thing most see.”

After an awkward pause, Otis jabbed his friend in the back, prompting another curse. “Tree! Say ‘Hi’ to the lady!” he urged.

“Um. Hi,” Chad stammered nervously, avoiding her eyes.

“Hi,” she mumbled back, equally nervous. She glanced at his face, studying his nervous expression, before looking away.

“This is Chad,” Otis introduced, placing a disproportionately large hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Chadwick Oliver Hartley,” he grinned mischievously, “And you, sweetness, must go by something other than Ms. Gypsy Goddess.”

She blushed at his remark. Chad glared at him like he was ready to defend her honor with bodily harm.

“Uh ... I’m Molly,” she stammered, “Molly Ruston.”

“Whew!!!” Otis wiped his forehead. “That was painful,” he skipped away from Chad’s swiping hand and shoved him forward in line. “Ms. Molly, meet Chad,” he grinned as his giant friend poised to swing at him. “Y’all hold my spot and save me a seat. I need a smoke,” he laughed and disappeared.

If his first impression suggested a demure and soft-spoken beauty who made his heart flutter with a touch, he quickly learned otherwise. Her beauty and effect on him grew, but her true personality soon emerged after she became comfortable with their budding relationship. To say she was a firecracker was to compare a light bulb to the sun.

Their attraction was immediate and intense. Her conservative parents weren’t keen on their daughter’s infatuation with a boy whose only prospects were farming and wrestling. The latter became less likely as Chad became more infatuated with her than with practice.

By graduation, he had decided neither farming nor wrestling appealed to him. He wanted a family with Molly and the means to support it. So, he turned to the only counselor he respected, the Navy Recruiter.