Restoring Her Faith. Jennifer Slattery
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