Читать книгу Restoring Her Faith - Jennifer Slattery - Страница 15

Drake Owens glanced at the frazzled city girl, dressed like one of those granola types, sitting in the passenger’s seat beside him. Chestnut hair fell over her shoulders in long, loose waves. Gray eyes shadowed by deeply furrowed brows hinted that a spitfire lingered just below her polite smiles and thank-yous.

Pretty enough to jumble a man’s head, if he wasn’t careful. Drake never had that problem with the folks from Leaded Pane.

His phone rang. His headset answered. “Hey-lo.”

“You called?” It was Elizabeth, his sister.

“Just making sure y’all made it down to the lake all right,” Drake said. “That my rascally sons didn’t give you and Mom too much trouble.” At three and a half and six years old, those two could be quite a handful. His mom had always managed to keep them wrangled well enough...until Dad’s accident. Now she spent most of her time caring for him. Luckily, Drake’s sister had stepped in to help nanny, almost full-time. Otherwise he would’ve had to back out of the restoration project.

“Oh, your boys were fine. Getting Dad into the truck was another story.”

“The picnic will be good for him. He needs to get out of the house. Mom, too.”

“I know. Now if I could somehow get him to socialize a little... He’s been tight-lipped all day.”

More like all month, not that Drake could blame him. That fall from the barn loft had stolen more than his mobility. He’d lost his independence, ability to provide for his family, to do what he’d always loved...

If he lost the ranch, too...

Drake refused to let that happen.

“William!” Drake’s sister called out to his youngest. “Get that out of your mouth!” With a sigh, she returned to the phone. “Got to go. See you in a few?”

“Yep.” Soon as he dropped his feisty little friend off.

Not that he could blame her for her sour mood. He’d just ruined her afternoon in a big way. To think that if he’d stayed out at Mr. Farmer’s for ten more minutes, he might’ve avoided the accident altogether... But he’d been too wrapped up thinking about his parents’ financial issues. As a result, he’d totaled her car, and nearly sent her trailer flying with who knows how many thousands of dollars’ worth of stained glass.

Speaking of...why was she here instead of the guys from Leaded Pane? As a family-owned business from Northeast Texas, they understood the importance of maintaining the flavor of a place. Not so with city folks, like this princess sitting next to him. They always seemed compelled to force their progress on everyone else.

As if a town couldn’t make its own decisions.

That church held way too much history, personal and otherwise, to let some city girl botch things up.

An image filled his mind of his wife standing at the altar. She’d looked beautiful dressed in a white lace gown that hugged her soft curves, the Garden of Eden mural covering the wall behind her. The deep green in the leaves had provided a beautiful contrast to her strawberry-blond highlights and peachy complexion. Her blue eyes were so full of life—until cancer stole that from her.

Though he no longer felt the sharp sting of grief, he would always hold tight to the memories of all they’d shared. A good deal of them in that small country church.

He slowed as he neared the Cedar View Inn. “How long you been in the restoration business?”

Her gaze met his, held it long enough to spike his pulse. But then her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “A while.”

She was such a tight-lipped little thing. Because she was quiet or lacked the experience to do the job? Then again, she might still be shaken up from the accident. Or spitting mad. “Bet you been all over the country, huh?”

She gave a slight shrug and focused on the single-story, metal-roofed motel in front of her. He eyed her trendy silk tank, long flowing skirt and strappy white sandals. Had city girl been expecting something fancier?

“Listen, about your car...” He cast her a sideways glance, momentarily distracted by the soft curve of her cheek. “I’ll make sure it gets fixed up right, and as quick as possible.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Her tone held a hint of a bite.

The truck jolted as he hit a pothole, before pulling up to the cement parking bumper. “This is it.” His was the only vehicle in the lot. “Except...looks like Mr. Johnson, the hotel owner, isn’t here.”

“What does that mean?”

“There’s no one to check you in at the moment. The place doesn’t get enough business for front desk staff.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Mind if I call him? Before you leave, I mean?”

Her vulnerable tone drew Drake to her in the most inconvenient way. “Sure.”

He waited, engine humming, while she rummaged through her purse and pulled out a folded slip of paper. Looked like a printed-out email.

“Thanks.” Phone to her ear a moment later, she sighed. “Voice mail.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Hello, this is Faith Nichols, I spoke to you last week. I have a reservation...” She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “For tomorrow. But I was hoping you might have a vacancy tonight.” She left her number, then dropped her phone back into her purse.

She leaned back against her seat, obviously completely flustered.

This had been quite a day for her. Because of him. “Most likely the owner’s at the church picnic. I wouldn’t expect him back until...” Drake placed his hand on his gearshift, prepared to reverse the truck and trailer. “You hungry?”

“Excuse me?”

You would’ve thought he’d asked her to eat a worm, the way her head jerked toward him. He was merely trying to be friendly. He couldn’t exactly leave her here. “Figured maybe you’d like to come to the picnic.”

She scraped her teeth across her bottom lip, then gave a slow nod. “I might as well.”

“All right then. Give me a minute to turn this thing around.” He reached for the door handle, then paused. “I figure you’ll want to leave your gear here, instead of having us drag it all over the place?”

“That’d probably be best, thanks. Just let me put a lock on the wheels. The doors are already dead-bolted.”

“What about your bike?”

She glanced around. “I’ll chain it to that tree over there.”

“Sounds good.” He swung his truck around, maneuvered her trailer into a parking slot and unhitched it. Less than five minutes later, he was driving down the local road.

“Maybe you should drop me off at the mechanic’s so I can check on my car.”

“I got Mike’s number, if you want to call. Though I suspect he’ll phone you soon as he knows something.”

“Mike?”

“He owns the repair shop. Though he’s probably at the picnic, too.” Drake slowed as they entered town. “Most everybody is. Few folks will turn down a free plate of fried chicken.”

“I see.” Her eyes tracked the single-story storefronts, which probably looked run-down and archaic to a city girl like her.

But to him, the simple brick exteriors, the signs that could use fresh coats of paint and the arching windows with peeling trim, were rife with memories. While so many other towns had chosen to replace the flavor of their area with the new and shiny, Sage Creek’s residents valued history over glitz. For that he was grateful.

“I suppose that café over there is closed, as well?” She pointed to Wilma’s Kitchen, the only full-service diner in town.

He eyed the dark windows, shaded by a sun-bleached green awning.

“All right.” Faith held her purse close. “The picnic will be fine. Thank you.” She paused. “You’ll bring me back to the hotel later?”

“Sure thing.”

That woman was as stiff as a hitching post, and clearly ready to bail from his truck at the first opportunity. Hopefully a plate of fried chicken would relax her some, and come tomorrow, at the job site, they could start over. On better footing. Otherwise things could turn troublesome real quick.

* * *

As she stepped from Drake’s truck, faces turned Faith’s way, eyebrows raised. As if she held a giant sign that shouted, “Out-of-towner. Not one of us.”

Just like in middle school. Not that it mattered what these people thought of her.

She needed to stay focused on why she was here.

Loading up their plates, men, women and children crowded around three rectangular tables set end to end. Others sat on folding chairs or blankets spread out on the grass in the shade of giant oak trees. Laughter and the scents of baked berry pies and beef stew floated on the air, making her stomach grumble.

“Daddy!” A blond, chubby-cheeked little boy with bright eyes ran toward Drake. He held out a glass jar. “Look.”

Was he married? She glanced at his bare ring finger.

He grinned, dropped to one knee and wrapped an arm around the boy. “Whatcha got there? A toad?”

The child’s head bobbed. “His name’s Toady. Can I keep him?”

“He’s got a name already, does he?” Drake’s grin crinkled the skin around his eyes.

“Figured you’d be more pleased with his catch than I was.” A curvy woman with long blond hair came toward him. His wife? Strange how the thought bothered Faith. “I suppose now’s as good a time as any to tell you what your other son’s been doing.”

Drake ruffled the child’s hair, then stood. “Making mud pies down by the lake?”

“Close enough.” The lady turned to Faith, as if seeing her for the first time. “Hey.” Her gaze shifted from her to Drake, then back again. “I’m Elizabeth, Drake’s sister.”

Faith felt oddly comforted, then chastised herself for it.

Drake introduced his son. The little one responded by darting behind him.

When he peeked around Drake’s back, Faith smiled. “Hi, William.” She took half a step back to add distance between her and this cowboy who caused her to feel much too jittery and off-kilter.

Probably residual effects from the accident. That he’d caused... Something she’d do well to remember whenever he flashed that handsome smile in her direction. Men like him were all the same. They waltzed around in their boots and faded jeans, believing they were God’s gift to women.

Drake introduced her, explaining why she was here and how they’d met.

“Wow.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Way to make a lasting impression, big brother.”

He hooked a thumb in his pocket and made a visual sweep of the area. “Where’s Mom and Dad?”

A flicker of sadness flashed in the woman’s eyes. With a nod, she pointed toward a picnic pavilion surrounded by tall oak trees. “Dad’s already asking to go back home.”

He cast Faith a sideways glance. “I’ll go give him a holler, once I help this little lady load up on the grub.”

“I’ll take care of that.” Elizabeth linked arms with Faith. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to our pie ladies. The most important women to get to know in this town, especially since they’ve helped raise a chunk of the funding for Trinity Faith’s restoration.”

A chunk? Did that mean others had raised the rest, or that the committee had managed to come up with only part of the money? Otherwise this trip could set her back, after all her expenses, and she still didn’t know if she could order replacement glass in time. She hadn’t been able to get through to the supply store.

Weaving around adults and children, Elizabeth eventually led her to a pair of picnic tables. Faith fought to keep her overloaded plate of chicken, potato salad, green salad, Jell-O and two other salads she’d never heard of from toppling out of her hand.

Every few steps, Elizabeth stopped to introduce her to people—someone from the church finance committee, or a member of the fund-raising team. The pastor’s wife, mayor’s daughter, town librarian.

Everyone had ideas on how the renovation should go and a story or three to go with them.

A hunchbacked woman with fluffy white hair placed a hand on Faith’s forearm, nearly causing her to drop her lunch. “You know what we need? One of those crying rooms like them bigger churches got. And the paint in the foyer’s too muted. We need something brighter. Like yellow.”

“Margie, they can’t just go around changing colors.” A tall woman in a ruffled tank rolled her eyes.

Margie frowned. “Who says?”

“The cultural committee.” The woman stepped closer, as if accepting a challenge. Or maybe initiating one. “Historical registry requirements and all.”

When they reached the pavilion, Faith saw Drake squatting in front of an older man in a wheelchair. The man leaned back, arms crossed, his bushy eyebrows pinched in a scowl.

A silver-haired woman sat beside him. She watched Drake closely, while he seemed to be engaged in a tense conversation with the man.

“You should meet my parents.” Elizabeth motioned toward the threesome. “My mom’s declared herself the official town hostess. By the end of the week, she’ll have you loaded up with casseroles, tomatoes and more coupons than you’ll know what to do with.”

“I, uh...sure.”

Drake glanced up as they approached, his blue eyes latching on to Faith’s and causing her cheeks to heat. He stood, feet shoulder distance apart, hand in his pocket. “Faith, this here’s my dad, Stanley Owens. He owns Owens Ranch out on Highway 59.”

The man gave a brief nod, his tight expression softening some. “Welcome to Sage Creek.”

Someone made a howling noise that sounded like a mix between Tarzan and a strangled pig.

Drake shook his head. “That troublemaker climbing that tree over there is my oldest, Trevor.” He motioned to a child, also blond, swinging, then jumping from low-hanging branches. The kid looked to be about six or seven years old. “And this here’s my mom, Sylvia.” He placed his hand on the shoulder of the silver-haired woman. “Best baker this side of San Antone.”

The woman waved her hand. “Don’t know about that, but I do love to keep my family sufficiently sweetened.” She winked at Drake, then motioned for Faith to sit on the picnic table bench beside her. “I hear you’ve been hired to help Drake, the town’s most eligible bachelor, fix our church right up.”

Heat flooded Faith’s cheeks. Surely the woman wasn’t implying...

His gaze met hers again, and her pulse skittered. She stiffened and looked away, then sat beside his mother and started forking bits of onion out of her green bean casserole.

“You’ve seen the place? Trinity Faith Church, I mean?” Sylvia asked. “Isn’t that a fine how-do-you-do. God’s hand if I ever saw it—Faith assigned, by faith, to restore Trinity Faith. I know there’s an amen story to that one.”

Faith blinked. “A what?”

“You know, how God brought you here to us.”

“Well...” No sense telling this poor woman that God had absolutely nothing to do with her being here, or her choices, period. Faith had seen enough of the ugliness of religion growing up to know she wanted nothing to do with it.

“I’ve always loved history and art.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I have a subscription to Lone Star Gems.” The most prestigious art and culture magazine in Texas, and the one she hoped would help salvage her career, so long as she managed to get a feature. “A few months ago, they did an article on some of Texas’s oldest churches. They were all so beautiful and unique, I knew I had to see them. But while researching my trip, I read about your church’s fire.”

“So sad.” Sylvia shook her head. “But I’m not worried none. You and Drake will fix that place up good as new.” She flashed a grin.

Drake, the man who could spike her pulse with just a glance, working alongside her...

For two weeks, maybe longer...

Totally not a big deal, considering he wasn’t her type. The man was country from his boots to his Stetson.

Still, she’d be wise to maintain an appropriate distance.