The Carpenter's Daughter (16 page)

Jesse

Coffee. Donut. Now.

I dried my face with the standard-issue white hand towel. Catching the guy in the mirror, I leaned forward and rested my palms against the counter. I actually looked tired. Hadn’t looked like that since the year Mom and Dad died.

Thoughts of Sarah had kept me up all night. Her dad was some kind of mad—and strangely that made me feel a little better for her, because that meant he cared. I hoped. It was a little weird though. She was, after all, a twenty-some-year-old woman.

Reading between the lines, I’d guess it’d been her and her dad her whole life, which might explain his angry-bear reaction. Goose bumps rippled across my skin when I thought about what he would have done if he’d seen her come out of that club. Whoever she’d gone there with…she sure didn’t want to volunteer that information. Which meant her dad would know who the guy was. Local kid, and not a good one.

Sarah was a nice girl. Why would she go out with a bad boy?

I tossed the towel toward the wall, and it landed on the counter to the left of the sink. This was why I didn’t sleep. Couldn’t get her out of my head. Not good.

Coffee. Donut. Then work. I needed to find my normal rhythm.

I left my room and wandered to the lobby. The faint light of the sun tickled the black canvas of night as I turned into the tiny breakfast nook. It’d be another twenty to thirty minutes before daybreak spread over the land. Time I’d use in the Psalms.

Leaving my Bible on a table by a window, I straight-lined it to the coffeepot. Once my Styrofoam mug was full, I pivoted to select from the stale day-old donuts laid out next to a bowl of waxy apples and brown-speckled bananas. Man, that place was subpar. I needed to hit a grocery store before nightfall if I was going to survive a full week.

With a glazed cake donut and one of the bananas on my small plastic plate, and the absolutely necessary cup of coffee in hand, I took five steps back to my table. I glanced back to the kitchenette, mentally tracing my path. A perfect triangle. What kind? Maybe a forty-five-degree angle between the coffee to the donut. Was that a ninety-degree angle from my table to the donuts? That would leave another forty-five, right? Sarah would know—wouldn’t even need to think about it.

Geometry. Math. Yuck. Why was I thinking about that? Sarah. That was why.

Out.

I ran a hand over my head and anchored it on my neck. I bowed, offering silent thanks for the sort-of palatable food.
Please help me to focus today. Not on Sarah. But, Father, would You touch her heart? She needs You—she doesn’t know where she belongs…

Even my prayers shifted to her. This teetered on obsession.

Coffee in my left hand, I flipped my Bible open.

You have been our dwelling place in all generations.

Dwelling. Home. Pain stirred in my chest as the image of my parents’ home collided with the haunting emptiness of Sarah’s blue eyes. Weird. The two weren’t related, and yet my heart ached because of both. Sarah, I could understand why her searching would pull on me. I wanted her heart to have the home she was longing for. But my childhood home? While there was some sentimental attachment there—my dad built it, and my mother made it amazing—it was ultimately just a house. Not the shelter of my heart.

Jesus was my dwelling place. Why did I picture the house?

Bracing my elbow on the table, I leaned against my hand. I’d sought peace in the Word of God, and I got a puzzle instead.
What are you doing, God?
The moment from a few weeks before swept over me with such force that I almost felt the breeze that had climbed the hill.

Do you trust Me?

I did. Why?

“Jesse?”

My head snapped up when her voice draped around me. Not yet six, and Sarah stood behind me. I looked back, and my eyes collided with those amazing sapphires. Air stuck in my lungs, and I forgot for the moment where we were.

What if every morning began with a cup of coffee, God’s Word, and a deep plunge into Sapphira’s blue eyes?

I blinked. What if I got my head put back in the right place and stopped imagining the impossible?

“Sapphira.” I grinned. It felt like the dumb, teenage-boy-crush kind, which triggered fire on both my ears. “What are you doing here?”

Even with the bill of her hat tugged low over her eyes, I could see a blush spread across her face. She moved toward the coffee. “Came up last night.”

Uh-oh.

“You okay?”

She stayed at the coffee dispenser, her back to me, even after her mug was full. Nope. Not okay. I pushed away from the table and moved toward the kitchenette, stopping in front of the donuts.

“Sarah?” My fingers itched to touch her arm. I shoved both hands into my jeans pockets. “You have to tell me if you’re hurt.”

She glanced to my face and forced a close-lipped smile. “I’m fine.” She held up her mug. “Just needed this. See you in a bit.” Turning back to the hall, she left me staring at her hunched shoulders retreating from the lobby.

Not fine. That ache tugged in my chest again. A painful puzzle. I glanced back to my Bible.

No wind. No voice. Just a sunrise glowing from beyond the window next to my table. Which meant it was time to get to work.

Sarah

He looked way too good for that early in the morning. And I wasn’t right if that was the first thought on my mind.

Maybe I was. He’d rescued me the night before. It was natural to admire your knight. Except, that was how all the girls thought of Jesse—their knight—and he didn’t mean for them to. I didn’t need to be the next Laine Fulton in Jesse’s life. He was a nice guy—a Jesus freak—but a nice guy nonetheless. I could leave it at that.

I sipped my black coffee as I stared at the TV. Some woman with a haircut similar to mine talked seriously about something relevant to society. Katie Couric? Probably. She was pretty. My hand brushed over my hair. Same do. Good thing. Too bad my hat would cover it all day.

Unbidden, Jesse’s expression from last night surfaced in my mind again. He’d been dumb-whipped. As if I’d been striking or something. Huh. Quite a few steps up from my normal work look, for sure. Maybe I should lessen the gap between the woman he’d met last night and the carpenter’s daughter he worked with during the day.

I didn’t pause to think about why I’d want to do such a thing. Instead, I pushed up from the couch and moved to the small bathroom.

Makeup bag in hand, I leaned forward to stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes
were
pretty blue. An asset, I thought. With little effort (because there wasn’t much in that little zipper bag), I produced the charcoal pencil Darcy’s friend had selected for me. A line over each eyelid, a thinner smudge on the lower lids, and then a quick swipe with my finger over all of them to “blend” the color. Boom. Blue eyes enhanced. I tipped back, inspecting the effect from a distance. Pretty good.

Now, for the mascara. This was a trouble spot for me. I hadn’t been practicing this trick for the past ten years like most women my age, so waving a bristled wand near my eyeball in hopes of painting those thin little lashes was a bit like telling myself not to blink in the wind. Some black ended up on the cheekbone under my left eye. Nothing a wet washcloth couldn’t fix. Once again stepping back from the mirror, I examined the finished product. With approval.

My heart beat in some kind of mildly painful erratic rhythm for two seconds, which oddly sent pleasure flowing through my veins. Maybe there was something physically wrong with me and I should have gone to a doctor, not a mall, when this whole finding-myself journey started. Drawing a breath, I checked the pulse in my neck. Normal. I was fine. But I needed something more than coffee for breakfast. My fingers combed through my hair while I debated. Hat on or off to go back to the lobby? I’d have to wear it to work—no amount of sunscreen could beat the shade of a bill—but maybe to eat…

No hat.

The narrow hallway wasn’t as dark as it had been thirty minutes before. Pale sunlight splashed on the dingy green walls as I passed by the emergency exit. My heart did that funny little kick again as I rounded the corner to the lobby. Pleasure didn’t follow this time. Probably because the breakfast room sat vacant.

Should have worn my hat. And not bothered with the dumb makeup. I had work to do, after all. Who wore makeup to a construction site?

Laine Fulton. Not me.

Oh well. Food would stabilize my insane web of thoughts. I slapped some kind of donut (didn’t care what it was) on my plate and snatched a mushy banana. Breakfast of champions. Making a perfect right triangle, I moved to the seat Jesse had been sitting in and plopped down. What had I been thinking? It wouldn’t take him thirty minutes to eat a donut.

But I’d wanted to see that look again. There. I admitted it.

A couple of guys rounded the corner from the hallway and beelined it to the food. Boots, torn jeans, hats. Workers. My kind of people. Didn’t make me feel any more comfortable though. There I sat, alone in a shabby hotel, eating stale food as I prepared to work a job for which I wasn’t going to get paid. Top it off, I didn’t have a plan beyond that. Dad hadn’t called me last night, and I sure wasn’t calling him anytime soon.

“Crowded in here this morning.”

Suddenly I was aware of a large presence standing at my side. I looked around. Five tables, one occupied by only one of the two guys who’d come in.

My brows scrunched together as I looked up. “Come again?”

“Tough to find a good seat.” The man standing next to my table winked. “Mind if I sit with you?”

I think my head actually snapped straight. “Uh, no…”

He laughed and slid into the chair across from mine. “I’m Troy.”

No. He was nuts. “Nice to know.”

“Do blue-eyed angels have names?”

I almost sprayed the coffee I’d sipped all over his Hollister T-shirt. Was this guy for real? “I don’t know. Haven’t met any.”

“Here.” He reached across our tiny table and touched my chin, tipping it so that I’d look at the window to my right. “See her? What’s her name?”

My reflection stared back at me. Striking blue eyes. No hat. My heart did that thing again, and I couldn’t help but grin.

“Cute.” I looked back to Troy the Nut. “It’s Sarah. But I’m no angel.”

“Even better.”

Yikes. Maybe Dad was right. I shouldn’t be allowed to talk to men. I dropped my attention to my half-eaten donut and concentrated on keeping the heat flaring on my chest from reaching my face.

A chair scraped the tile floor behind me, and another male figure appeared by my side. What kind of a warped scene was this? I wasn’t awake. That had to be it. No way in reality I would suddenly be surrounded by men for no apparent reason. Other than makeup. And a missing hat.

“Troy Grey.” Jesse’s voice, though dark and flat. He straddled the chair he’d dragged to our—my—table. “What are you doing here?”

Troy leaned back and settled a look on Jesse. An image of two dogs circling each other blipped through my mind. Weird. I glanced at Jesse. Not the easygoing face I had memorized.

“Same as you, I guess.” Troy crossed his arms. “Didn’t bet you’d be back. Again.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” Jesse didn’t move. “This isn’t your kind of gig, as I recall. Get into trouble again?”

Troy scowled. “Not your business.”

“Nope.” Jesse stood. “It isn’t. Unless you’re on my crew.” In two seconds he had his chair put back from where he’d taken it, and his hand rested on my shoulder. “Ready to go, Sarah?”

Wait. Was I being dismissed? Summoned? I looked up and found his green eyes steady on me. He squeezed the spot where his hand still rested.

Not the look I’d hoped for, but intense nonetheless. “Sure. Just need to grab my hat.” And my food, which I hadn’t eaten. Jesse didn’t move until I stood, and then his hand slipped to my elbow. He walked with me all the way to my room.

“Do you know that guy?” He stopped me from unlocking my door, his voice low.

“No. You?” Obviously. And he wasn’t a fan. Interesting. I thought Jesse the Saint liked everyone.

His hand left my elbow. “Enough.”

Enough for what?

“Riding with me?” His eyebrow cocked up as if his question wasn’t really a question at all.

Why not? I shrugged. He waited in the hall after I unlocked my door. I snatched my hat and then paused, glancing to the mirror that peeked from the open bathroom door. A woman with blue eyes stared back. A pretty woman who’d been hit on twice in one week. My chin lifted a tiny bit.

Maybe this journey wasn’t so awful after all.

Jesse

The muscles in my shoulders knotted. Workday hadn’t even started, and I was wound up like a yo-yo.

Troy Grey had surfaced again. Working with him was one thing, not very pleasant at that, but watching him slither up to Sapphira… The taste of bile tinged my tongue. The guy played women like they were cards in a deck. Seemed to find an identity in his cold game. No way was I going to stand by and watch Sarah slide into that hand.

What was she doing out there again this morning anyway? Half hour before, she’d got her coffee—and had been about as friendly as a badger—before she shuffled on down that hall again. If she wanted to sit and have breakfast, why didn’t she sit with me?

I braced my back against the wall, waiting for her to grab her hat. She’d been wearing it earlier. Why’d she show up in that lobby looking all beautiful, setting herself up for a snake like Troy? I wished I could figure women. Sarah was smart and not a game player, so none of this made any sense.

She reappeared in her doorway, hat slapped on her dark hair. Still beautiful. A quick rerun of Troy’s fingers on her face made me snarl on the inside.
She’s not for you.
Words that had almost broke from my lips as I’d set myself smack in the middle of that unsettling pair. Then again, what claim did I have on her?

None.

Not true. Somehow, that couldn’t be true, because thinking it put pressure in my chest until I thought I couldn’t breathe anymore.

This wasn’t fair. Finally I met a woman who would get me—and I’d understand her, sort of—and she was out of bounds. Why would God do that?

“Ready?” Sarah eyed me as though she’d been standing there waiting for me to check back into reality. Probably because she had.

I pushed off the wall and drank in those eyes set on me. The weight in my chest lifted a little. “Yep. Let’s go.” Fishing my keys from my pocket with one hand, I tapped the brim of her hat with the other. After that, I shoved the hand closest to her into my jeans. No touching.

A sigh billowed from my chest. Starting the day in a bad mood wasn’t par for me, so I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Top it off, I was still hungry. After opening the passenger door for Sarah, I walked around to the other side and slid behind the steering wheel. We set off for our latest project. A fast-food sign snagged my attention a few blocks down the road. No sense in going hungry, and maybe some decent food would turn my morning right side up.

“Where are we going?”

“Breakfast.” I pulled in between a pair of yellow lines and parked. “That coffee tasted like muddy water, and a day-old donut isn’t going to do it for me.”

After killing the engine, I sat. Just sat and stared out of the windshield at nothing in particular.

“You’re moody this morning.”

Oh. So she’d noticed. Did she realize it was her fault?

Not gonna talk about it. “What do you want to eat?”

“What?”

“There’s no way that half-eaten donut of yours is going to fuel a work day.” I finally turned to look at her.

She wrinkled her forehead. “Wait. How about you tell me what the deal is with you and Troy?”

I looked away. “Eggs? Flapjacks? Some kind of breakfast sandwich? Come on. I’m buying.”

“You’re flat out grumpy.” She unsnapped her seat belt and leaned against the door.

Not getting any better either, thanks. “I’m hungry.”

“I’ve seen you hungry. Doesn’t look like a growling bear on you.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You and Troy. What’s that about?”

My head hurt. This was a dumb thing to argue about. It wasn’t like I had any big secrets. “He showed up on a project two years ago. Had gotten himself into trouble, and the court said jail time or community service. He picked Homes For Hope.”

She stared at me, waiting.

“That’s it?” She shifted, her eyebrows hiking. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“That’s all the story you’re getting from me. I don’t like him, and I have my reasons, but they don’t involve you.”

Mostly. And they’d better not involve her with any more depth.

“Seems pretty unsaintly of you.” Her tone teetered on the mocking sort. “Can’t allow for a guy to mess up without holding it against him?”

Fire flashed through my muscles, and my mouth let loose all on its own. “Not when I watched him mess around with a girl who wasn’t even out of high school yet—which, by the way, Sapphira, is
illegal
. And, so we’re clear, it wasn’t innocent on his part, and he wasn’t even a little sorry.”

Sarah held me with an angry look for two breaths and then reached for the door. Nice. I didn’t normally do this. I wasn’t the snarky type. But something with her…she got under my skin and smoldered until I couldn’t hold back anymore.

That was my problem, not hers.

“Sarah.” I reached across the cab before she could scramble out, and brushed her arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t snap at you. And you’re right. I should allow for a man to change. It’s—”

It was what? That I didn’t want him looking at her like that. Touching her. Taking advantage of the fact that, though she’d spent her life around men, she didn’t know anything about how they saw a beautiful woman.

She doesn’t know she’s beautiful.

Whoa. Revelation. My me-centered frustration fizzled. My chest caved as a warm ache replaced hot anger.

I ran my thumb along her arm and over her shoulder. “I want you to be okay.”

Her posture sagged as her hand fell away from the door handle, and she looked toward her boots. Not okay. I wanted to slide over, pull her close, and tell her she was amazing. That scenario played out in my head. It didn’t end with a hug.
Hands to myself.

I grabbed the steering wheel. “What happened with your dad last night?”

She tensed up again.

“Seriously, Sarah.” My grip reached near superstrength. “You’re scaring me.”

I watched her profile as her jaw moved. Her face went hard and cold.

My heart stalled. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” Some of the anger drained from her expression. “My dad would never hurt me.”

Her eyes slid shut, but only for a moment. I waited, expecting that she’d say more this time.

Nothing.

I wrapped a palm around the back of my neck and blew out a breath. “I need you to explain this to me.” I spoke to the dashboard because looking at her kept unraveling my self-control. “You asked me to pick you up from some bottom-feeder club and take you home, which I did. Next thing I know, you’re here at five thirty in the morning telling me you came last night. The only thing I’ve got to go on is the fact that your dad went a little scary when I dropped you off, so you’d better start filling in some blanks, because that’s kind of freaking me out.”

“We had a fight, and I left. Nothing to freak out about.”

All cleared up now, thanks. “He’s kind of protective, huh?”

She looked to her hands, which were resting in her lap. “Maybe. Or he sees my mom in me.”

Whole new issue, and an ugly one at that. “What happened to her?”

Her hand went to the bill of her hat, and she resettled it over her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this, Jesse. I came up here to get away from it. To work. Can we do that?”

Fair enough—or it should be. Why’d I want to pry this woman open so bad? Like I could fix her, anyway.

I couldn’t. Knew the One Who could heal her heart though. There it was—the whole purpose in this relationship. I really needed to keep that in focus.

Sarah popped her door open and slid out.

Time to move on.

Sarah

Jesse in a mood. Wouldn’t have guessed I’d see that. Maybe he wasn’t such a saint. Which made me feel…something.

This more down-to-earth view made me like him even more. He wasn’t so high above me as I’d thought. That something I’d felt was hope. A dangerous thing.

Jesse Chapman saw me as a project. That was all. I hated that I had to keep reminding myself of that. My life was enough of a maze as it was. I didn’t need to be adding in emotional confusion concerning this almost perfect guy to the mess.

He bought me breakfast. He was always buying me food. What was that? Pity? A tool? Confusing. We ate in the quick-serve joint with an awkward silence building between us. He’d wanted to know about my mom. I didn’t want to talk about her. All I knew about the woman was that she left and my dad hated her.

I left too. Still didn’t know if I wanted to go back. Did that mean he’d hate me?

I stared out the window nearest our table and sighed.

“What?” He set aside his breakfast sandwich and leaned both arms against the table.

Too late now. Saying nothing would only provoke his frown. He’d already disapproved of me half the morning. I couldn’t take any more.

“She left.” My gaze stayed fixed outside.

“Your mom?”

Yep, he’d still been stewing on it. “Yeah. I have her eyes, and she left when I was a baby. That’s all I know.”

“So, it’s been you and your dad all your life?”

I nodded.

“And this fight is a big deal.”

Stop.
Why was he forever probing? And always right? “You’re a lot like my aunt.” I looked at his face.

His eyes widened, looking injured. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, I guess not.” I loved Darcy. Except when she was trying to fix me. “You’re a lot like her. Especially with the Jesus stuff. Like you think you’ve got all the answers or something.”

The color in his tanned face paled, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. I didn’t mean it like that—all snotty and insulting. Why did the religion stuff irritate me so much? Wasn’t hurting me, and it was actually kind of sweet that Jesse and Darcy wanted me to be okay.

Jesse looked to the table, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I don’t know everything.”

Making him feel bad for caring—that was awesome of me. I groped around my brain for words, hoping to somehow regain our friendship. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean you’re her kind of people. The church kind. That’s not all bad.”

That wasn’t anything good. My mouth shut. No more talking. Seven thirty in the morning and I’d already had a terrible day. Please could we go to work?

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s good to know.”

Now what do I do?

Jesse pushed away from the table, wrapping his half-eaten sandwich. “You ready?”

For a fresh start? Yes. Please. Was that possible?

I followed him out the door and to the truck. He opened my side of the cab. He always did that. Southern? Certainly not because I was a lady. Butch. That was me. I tugged on the bill of my hat and moved to hop in. Jesse’s eyes stalled me. Pinned right on my face, he stood with a serious, unrecognizable expression and stared. At me. My heart tripped, and I held his gaze.

Breathe.

He looked away, and I inhaled. Blood rushed into my head and over my limbs. I thought I died for a second, and life was resaturating my body.

Staring at Jesse’s shoulders as he moved around the nose of the truck, I wanted to die again. He kept his eyes away from mine. Had he died too?

No way. Maybe he’d seen me go, though, and was appalled. Much more likely.

He started the truck and shifted into reverse. I shifted back to normal. Butch girls didn’t swoon. I hoped the job ahead was demanding. Hard, sweaty, exhausting physical labor. No more thinking, and especially no more feeling.

Jesse

A buzz of silence filled the cab as we rolled down the road to the job. That moment our stares collided in the parking lot flashed. An urge to touch her—her fingers, the warm skin on her work-muscled arm, or her face—had crashed over me. That’d be throwing water on a grease fire, wouldn’t it? I swallowed. Logic didn’t smother the desire.

An eternal five minutes of silence stretched out before we pulled up to a place that looked like the creepy farmhouse everyone would want to throw rocks at. Judging by the shattered glass in the window frames, they had.

The house had been green tagged. Condemned. Homes For Hope took on fixer-uppers? This was a new one on me.

We’d beat everyone to the site, including the coordinator. Time to use wisely. I’d messed up the whole morning—the best part being that now Sarah thought me a religious know-it-all. Was that really how I came across?

I parked along the street and shut off the engine. “Can I ask you something?”

Sarah unbuckled her seat belt. Clearly she didn’t want to be in the truck with me. “What?”

I was batting a big fat zero that day. Maybe I should’ve let it go. But I couldn’t. “When you said religion back there, you kind of…snarled.”

She stared at me, her expression cool. “That’s not a question.”

“Why?”

After a breath, her focus turned to the disaster house outside her window. “I just don’t like it.”