Restoring His Heart. Lorraine Beatty
to Dover, nothing he’d experienced was familiar. He didn’t like that. He pushed open the back door, stepped into the kitchen and froze.
The air was warm with rich delectable aromas. A woman he’d never seen before stood at the stove. For a second he wondered if he’d returned to the wrong house.
“Oh, hello, Adam. I’m Angie Durrant. Sorry I wasn’t here this morning to greet you, but Tom thought it might be more comfortable for you with only him. Sort of a man-to-man thing.”
Adam stared at the scene in front of him, trying to process it all. Mrs. Durrant was an older version of her daughter. Slender with short dark blond hair turning gray. Her smile was like her daughter’s, as well. It lit up her eyes.
“Oh, don’t forget to call the station. Use that phone over there. The number is beside it.”
Her thoughtfulness caught him off guard. She’d actually tried to make things easy for him, acting as if she cared about what happened to him. He moved across the kitchen to the desk, noticing the table was set with colorful dishes and bright placemats. This wasn’t normal. He placed his call, then turned back to Mrs. Durrant.
“I hope you’re hungry.”
His stomach answered for him. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“Good. You have time to clean up if you’d like. Tom will be here in about twenty minutes. Come on down when you’re ready.”
Fifteen minutes later Adam returned downstairs certain he’d been mistaken about the warm welcome to find only one thing had changed. Tom Durrant was home. They sat down at the table, and after Mr. Durrant had offered the blessing Mrs. Durrant passed the food. He’d never tasted anything so good. Tuna casserole, she’d said. Nothing fancy. But it was definitely on par with some of the haute cuisine he’d tasted in his travels. The conversation revolved around various events in Dover. He answered questions put to him, but offered nothing more. He made his escape as soon as he could without appearing rude, explaining he was tired from the day’s work.
In his room he stretched out on the bed, every muscle in his body protesting the abuse he’d given them today. He tried to watch television, but couldn’t concentrate. He wanted to sleep, but he was too tired. If only he could get this situation sorted out, find some solid ground to stand on and get through the month. Trouble was, he had no frame of reference. No experience with family and home-cooked meals. How was he supposed to behave here? What did they expect from him? He didn’t know how to talk to these people. He’d never talked to his parents. They were never around.
A knock on the door brought him to his feet. He opened it to a smiling Tom Durrant holding a book in his hand. “I forgot to mention that we’ll all be going to church in the morning. It’s important that you attend.” He handed the book to Adam. It was the Holy Bible. “Thought you might need one. This belonged to my younger son, Ty.”
“Mr. Durrant, I appreciate what you’re doing here—letting me stay with you instead of in the jail—but you don’t have to go to any trouble on my account.”
“Call me Tom. And I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Eating together, fixing big meals, all that. I can take my meals up here. It’s not a problem.”
Tom frowned. “We’re not doing anything differently, Adam. We always have our meals together. Always have. That’s what families do. Service is at ten-thirty. Good night.”
Adam shut the door, thinking of all the places he’d rather be than with the Durrants in Dover. Bible stuff. He fingered the worn leather cover, an odd tension swirling deep in his gut. It had been a long time since he’d looked at the words inside. A friend in college had led him to the Lord and for the first time in his life he’d felt as if he belonged someplace. He was loved and accepted for who he was. Someone—God—cared what happened to him and had a plan for his life.
Then he’d gone back home. His parents dismissed his newfound faith as a fad that he would hopefully get over. And he had in a way. He’d tried to find a church to attend, but the arguments with his father had escalated. When Adam had declared his intention to live his life in his own way, and refused to go to work at Holbrook Electronics, his father had retaliated by disowning him and placing a restrictive condition on his trust fund that demanded his appearance each year to collect. His father’s way of keeping him in line and making him see the error of his ways.
His faith had taken a backseat to his troubles and he’d drifted. But lately he’d sensed the Lord tapping his shoulder, trying to get his attention. Maybe that’s why he’d ended up here in Dover.
* * *
Laura ended the call to her foreman, Shaw McKinney, and smiled. So far everything was on track with her other jobs. She hoped she would be as blessed with the gazebo project. The last thing she needed was another job. Her schedule was full and teetering on a wobbly budget. She should be helping on the Conrad place or pushing her attorney to settle the Mobile mess. Instead, she’d be spending the next four weeks tracking down two-hundred-year-old timber to replace the damaged wood. The Dover gazebo was one of the few historic buildings in town that was absolutely pristine. The only changes made over the years had been the addition of electricity, which had been upgraded for safety reasons a decade ago. Only the most minor repairs had been necessary. Until Adam Holbrook had come to town.
Pouring a glass of sweet tea, she called for her little dog, Drywall, to follow her out onto the front porch of her house. She settled into the old glider, inhaling the pungent fall air and letting her gaze drift to the small buds that were starting to form on the winter camellia bush at the edge of her porch.
Adam Holbrook hadn’t behaved like she’d expected him to. She’d been prepared to prod, threaten and argue about everything she asked him to do. Instead he’d been cooperative and helpful. His reaction to her apology had thrown her a curve, as well. She’d expected him to say something smart, to defend his lifestyle. Instead he coolly acknowledged her comments as truth.
She couldn’t figure him out. But it was only the first day. Sooner or later he’d show his true colors and balk at the work. It was all new and exciting to him now, like one of his wild adventures. She doubted he had the staying power or the attention span. He’d grow bored and then she’d be working alone. She felt sure he was incapable of any kind of commitment.
She scratched behind Wally’s ears. And yet, there was something about him that hinted at another man beneath his polished exterior. Someone nice. No. She was simply tired and irritated, building castles in the sky, and it was time to go to bed. There was nothing worthwhile about Adam Holbrook.
* * *
The knot of tension in Adam’s gut tightened as he followed Tom Durrant down the aisle and into a pew midway in the sanctuary the next morning. It had been years since he’d been to church, other than a wedding or a funeral. The Bible in his hand felt heavy and awkward. He could sense the eyes of the congregation on his back, and he was thankful when they finally took their seats.
Adam glanced down at his khaki pants, relieved to see most of the congregation dressed casually. But it was more than his outward appearance that made him edgy. Inwardly he wasn’t prepared to sit in God’s house. He allowed his gaze to travel around the old church, struck by the eerie familiarity of the place. With its stained-glass windows, carved wood moldings and massive pipe organ, it reminded him of the church he’d attended in college. Strange that he’d find one so similar here in Dover.
Mrs. Durrant stopped at the pew, Adam stood and stepped into the aisle to let her in to sit beside her husband. He took his seat again only to feel a tap on his shoulder a few moments later. He looked up to find a lovely young woman smiling at him. With a shock he realized it was Laura Durrant. She gestured for him to scoot over to allow her to join them. He’d lost his voice. He realized it was the first time he’d seen her without either her baseball cap or hard hat. The hair he’d guessed to be dishwater blond was in reality a rich honey brown with amber highlights. It hung in soft waves, caressing her neck and shoulders like fine silk. The flowing black-and-white skirt flirted around her calves.