Restoring Her Faith. Jennifer Slattery
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.
Faith liked Drake’s mom. She had stories for everything, many of them hilarious, and about half were about her son and grandkids. It was clear she cherished her role as Meemaw, as she was called.
As the afternoon wore on, Drake’s boys started to bicker, his oldest teasing the little one by holding a Frisbee just out of reach. According to their father, the youngest was determined to be like his big brother, which often resulted in tears from the younger and taunting from the older. Little William ran after Trevor, then tripped on a branch and fell splat on his face. He remained there, crying and wailing.
“Oh!” Faith sprang to her feet, one hand on her mouth.
“Excuse me.” Drake set his Coke on the picnic table and ambled to his son’s side. Upon reaching him, Drake pulled him up, dropped to one knee and set the child on his other. “What’s broken?”
William sniffed, tears streaking his dirty face.
“Your arm?” He lifted the boy’s arm, wiggled it until he started to laugh. “Your leg?” He grabbed his son’s leg, nearly causing him to topple over, if not for Drake’s stabilizing arm on his back. “Oh, I know. Your ear.” He stuck a finger in William’s ear, causing him to squeal and squirm.
Faith laughed.
“Sure is good with those boys.”
She turned to find one of the women among numerous Elizabeth had introduced Faith to—she couldn’t remember her name—standing beside her, sucking on a chicken bone.
“Glad to see it.” The woman leaned closer, hand cupped around her mouth. “I was worried, with his dad’s accident and all. Thought Drake would go through another dark spell, like he did when his wife died. Didn’t know who’d step in to take care of things then.”
Drake