The Carpenter's Daughter (31 page)

My lips trembled, and when he pulled me to his shoulder, I leaned against him.

“I promise you,” he whispered into my hair, “it’s enough.”

Jesse

Heartsick, but not alone. Still a hard spot, but not the awful bleakness that Sarah had been living in. Praise God for that.

I leaned back against the padded seat of Rick’s Pathfinder and shut my eyes. The long night of driving had caught up with me, and it was tempting to doze off. I’d need to find a hotel after this meeting. Tomorrow, I’d figure out a plan, which would most likely include renovation houses in North Omaha. Avery would squeal in her Dolly-pitched voice and say something like,
The Lord is moving, isn’t He?

Yes, He was.

About this Sarah deal, Lord…I don’t know what I’m doing. Could you move there too?

Rick interrupted my prayer, drawing me back from the hovering place between reality and sleep. “Darcy has been praying for you the past few days.”

“Few days?”

“Yeah, I know we just met you, but she heard Sarah listening to that YouTube video you sent her the other day, and she asked about you.”

Aha. That explained “the roofer” comment from Adam. “Thanks. Tell her to keep praying.”

Rick cleared his throat. “Are you in a sticky situation?”

“Not sticky. Delicate. And foreign.”

“Wanna tell a near stranger about it?”

I chuckled. “Sarah’s talked about you and Darcy, so I’m not sure you’re really a stranger. I’m just not sure what to do with her.”

His shoulders jerked straight. “Careful there. Dars and I love her like a daughter, so if you’re—”

“I’m not.” I met his look with a quick glance between us, hoping he could see my sincerity. “I wouldn’t drive all night without a place to stay if I was just testing the waters. But I’m not sure where she’s at.”

With his focus back on the road, Rick nodded. “With you, or other things?”

“All of the above.”

Rick paused, tapping his steering wheel. “With you…I don’t think you need to wonder. Those other things, I think she’s getting it.”

I wondered if we were talking about the same stuff—and given the fact that I already messed up with her in Lexington, I did have to wonder about things between her and me. There were always consequences, even when you were not sure what they’d look like.

“She’s still a little unsteady—and her life is such a maze.” I glanced to him to make sure he wasn’t misunderstanding me. His expression stayed open. “I’m not scared of that. I just don’t want to go stepping into places I won’t be able to fill.”

He nodded. “Understood. And I respect that. You’ve already made such a difference in her life. She actually asked us if she could come to church today. That’s never happened.”

Dangerous, that kind of attribution. “That wasn’t me.”

He smiled. “No. Guess not. But God’s been using you, and Darcy and I are grateful.” He glanced at me again. “And you do have a place to stay. Whether Sarah’s around or not.”

“Thanks. I might need it, and you might regret it if this job is as big as I’m guessing.”

“Oh, it’s big. And if you can’t take it on, you just say so. I don’t mean to volunteer you for a ball and chain.”

Pretty sure we were talking about the North O project, not Sarah. “I volunteered myself.” For both.

I thought he understood that, because he chuckled again as he pulled into a drive belonging to another split-level home. Man, these Omaha driveways…steep and short. I’d hate to be around in the winter.

“Okay, here we are.” Rick cut the engine and unsnapped his seat belt. “Grant’s high energy, and he’s got big visions that don’t always touch any sort of reality, so if you need to ground him, just go ahead and do it. You’re the expert, not him.”

“Actually, we should have brought Sarah.”

With a cocked eyebrow, Rick paused to look at me.

“She’s really good at renos. She has vision, not to mention the skills to make it happen.”

Approval swept over his expression, which kind of bothered me. I wasn’t handing Sarah unwarranted compliments. After shutting the door, I met Rick on the other side of the truck, and we started up the set of long stairs to the front door.

“You’ll do her good,” he said.

“She can do good all on her own.” I bumped his arm so he’d look at me. “Serious.”

“I know she’s got the skills. But the confidence… You’re exactly the guy for that job.”

My heart skipped uncomfortably. I’d love to be that guy… But it was time to change the subject.

Rick reached for the doorbell, and I stood back. Grant North was exactly the kind of guy Rick had described. Energetic, a bit of a dreamer, and determined. Had me figured for the coordinator before I’d laid eyes on any sort of building or plan, and wanted to give me a full tour of the project that very moment.

“Hold up, Grant.” Rick snagged the man before he could grab his car keys. “Jesse’s had a long drive. Plus, it’s Sunday evening. I just wanted to introduce you, maybe give you a chance to set up a time to meet this week.”

“Right.” Grant grinned, his enthusiasm undeterred. “How about tomorrow? We can do lunch, and then I’ll take you to the site.”

Tomorrow. I had to mentally tell myself not to let my shoulders droop. Actually had visions of hanging out with Sarah for one whole, uninterrupted day. Guess not. Maybe she’d come with me.

Either way, I couldn’t really say no, because I knew in my gut that I’d do this job. This was where I was needed next, and that was the commitment I’d made when I took on my parents’ dream.

I nodded, holding out my hand. “I’ll meet you at the church.”

Grant returned my handshake, and that was that.

Cicadas buzzed their vibrating symphony as Rick and I pulled up to his house.

“I assume you have some stuff?” he asked after we both shut the doors to his vehicle.

I nodded. “I didn’t assume you’d take me in though. It’s not a problem for me to find a hotel.”

“Nope.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “That won’t do. We have room, and you can stay as long as this project takes. If you’re taking it on.”

Strangers took me in quite often. It didn’t usually feel awkward. This did. I wasn’t sure if it was because I didn’t really know what I was getting into here—I’d never coordinated a whole project on my own, let alone one this size—or if it was because of the hazy stuff between Sarah and me.

“Thanks.” I glanced to my feet, wondering if I sounded as strained as I felt. “Mind if I talk to Sarah before I decide?”

“No problem.” He tipped his head toward the house, a
let’s go
kind of gesture, and my heart picked up its pace. I wasn’t sure why.

Darcy was in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher when we came in. She offered me tea, asked how it went with Grant, and then finished with the last clean plate.

“Sarah’s downstairs.” She smiled and then turned toward the back door.

Permission to depart. I took it.

I found Sarah on the couch in the family room, dress replaced by gym shorts and a T-shirt. Her feet were tucked around her, and her laptop was perched on her legs. She stared at the screen, her eyes sheened.

Easing next to her, I brushed a bare foot. It flexed but didn’t jerk away.

“Not ticklish?”

A tiny smile poked onto her mouth. “Not there.”

I lifted my eyebrows and waited for her to look at me. When she did, she wore a locked-down,
there’s no way you’re going to find out
kind of smirk.

Mack had said I liked a challenge. Apparently Mack was correct. I lifted my hand, intent on testing her neck, but she intercepted my fingers.

“Don’t.” The small smile faded completely, and her eyes shifted from playful and daring to closed and almost hurt.

Confusion draped heavily over me. I wanted so much to be close to this woman, to see her smile, hear her laugh. To show her how much I cared. Loved.

Studying her profile while that thought passed through my mind made my chest squeeze, and our kiss rushed through my memory. I had acted purely on desire that day. It had been reckless, and now she didn’t trust me.

Or maybe she didn’t want me anymore.

No. I couldn’t accept that.

I shifted, respecting her space but not willing to abandon my hopes. “What are you doing?”

She sighed. “Reading.”

Not for pleasure, apparently. I tipped the screen of her computer so that I could see. An article from a popular gossip publication filled the space, the date long since passed.

Cassandra von Holtzhausen…

The story didn’t matter much to me until I scrolled down. On the bottom right of the page, a photograph changed everything. The eyes of the dead woman were strikingly similar to the eyes I’d seen in my dreams.

I could have sworn I was looking at Sarah.

Sarah

Jesse pulled in a sharp breath when my mother’s picture settled on the screen. He stared like he was looking at a ghost.

“You look just like her.”

I actually snorted. Me? Cassandra von whoever was a national spectacle in the world of modeling. I was a butch-looking carpenter girl in the world of nowheresville.

Beyond our blue eyes, I looked nothing like the woman. Jesse was insane.

His fingers left the screen of my computer and came to my chin. He turned me to face him—so that he could do a closer inspection.

“Just like her.”

The intensity in his gaze set fire to my skin. I pulled away from his hold and turned back to the screen. “Doesn’t matter. She’s dead.”

His hand covered my foot again, though he didn’t try to tickle it this time. “Why are you reading this again?”

A question I’d been wondering myself. I’d been staring at the horrible image for close to an hour, rereading the story, wondering why Cassandra von whatever chose to die in a rathole rather than be my mother. Childish thoughts for a full-grown woman.

“I don’t know.”

He reached for the laptop again. “How about we check out something else?”

Before I answered, his fingers pecked at the keyboard, and the autofill on Google found what he was looking for before he finished typing.

Jesus, He loves me.

The loading wheel spun, and I closed my eyes in the pause. The dead woman who had given me blue eyes still stared vacantly back in my mind. Jesse shifted, and suddenly I was gathered against him. The music began, and he stroked my hair against the backdrop of lyrics I had memorized over the past few days.

“Do you believe that He loves you?”

“Yes.” Didn’t I? I swallowed. “I want to.” My mouth quivered. “I just wish I knew who I am.”

“You won’t find who you are in a story about your mom.” Jesse spoke softly, still holding me against his shoulder. “You won’t find who you are with a man, or in a job, or in your dad’s past, or your aunt’s church. These things may shape you, but they aren’t the core of who you are.”

Jesse moved, his hands gripping my shoulders and pushing me so that he could look into my face. “The truest thing about who you are is that you are loved.” Rough and warm, his palms slid against my jawline to frame my face. “Do you believe that?”

Biting my lip, my eyes slid shut. I nodded. I did believe—and a ray of warmth slid over the barren chill of my heart. Loved. By God. This was truth. No matter what my dad did. No matter who my mother was. Whether or not my life would intertwine with Jesse’s. Whatever path my future would take.

I was loved.

“Yes.” I whispered. “I believe.”

His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, and then his hands fell away. “Let that define you.”

I sniffed, opening my eyes to search his. Whatever feelings we had or didn’t have between us, this was more important. He was desperate for me to hear him, and I ached to understand.

“Everything else may shatter. Life is unpredictable like that. But if you define yourself with the truth of God’s love, you will always have an anchor. Because His love will never change.”

His words settled around me, in me. I ran them over and over in my mind, memorizing them. Letting them sink deeper until they planted in my heart. I was loved by God, and His love would never change.

There were moments in life that redefined everything. That was mine. Nothing really changed on the outside—my mother was still dead, my dad was still not talking to me, I still didn’t know what kind of future I had, and my heart still ached for the man sitting next to me.

Yet, everything changed on the inside.

Love did that, I guessed. It gave hope where there was only hurt. It redefined life. Or maybe it rebirthed what was dead.

Because of love, I had life. That was what changed.

Jesse

“What do you think?”

I’d managed to snag Sarah by the elbow and discreetly held her back in the doorway of the crumbling, horrible-smelling house we’d just toured. One of four. Wow. They were more than a project. To Grant, they were almost an obsession. For me? They were the next twelve months of my life, at least. Overwhelming would be putting it mildly.

Sarah looked over her shoulder back into the house that screamed abuse from every corner. “It’s a big undertaking.”

“Yeah.” I snorted. “Maybe they need a stick of dynamite.”

One eyebrow hiked on her beautiful face.

“Seriously,” I said. I meant it. It’d be easier to build from the ground up on all of these houses. “The electrical, the plumbing… Let’s not even think about what’s living in the attics and inside the walls. These are the worst houses I’ve ever seen.”

Staring at me, she swallowed, a hint of rebuke in her eyes. “Can’t see past the neglect?”

Ouch. I’d been so poetic about old houses and reno projects back when I was working on new builds and wasn’t in charge. I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, only this isn’t neglect. It’s abuse.”

She turned away and stepped toward the staircase that divided the interior into two equal parts. As she drew closer to the first riser, her hand settled on the fluted newel post that should have been holding the railing solid. It quivered beneath her palm.

“Grant has vision.”

I knocked against the doorframe with my foot. “Borderline crazy.”

She chuckled and turned back to me. “Imagine coming through that door when it’s done. Seeing it restored. That would be something.”

“It would. Except it sounds exhausting. And did I mention crazy?”

Her head moved from side to side as she stepped toward me. My fingers suddenly itched to remove her hat, to trace the determined lines on her face and to draw confidence from them. Rick’s words seeped through my mind—that I’d be good for her, give her confidence. Wasn’t true. Here we were, in a house that was literally crumbling around us, and she knew without a doubt what it could be—what it should be—and that I could do it.

“Imagine, Jess, that you were here not as a contractor but as someone else.” She scanned the space, a ramshackle of broken furniture, old drapery, and garbage. It smelled like sweat and urine and decay…and maybe even death. A sheen glazed her eyes as her look transformed into a distant stare. “It looks like the place in the picture.”

Picture? Picture…picture. The one on the Internet. The one where her mother’s lifeless eyes stared into the camera lens.

This was more than a renovation. This was a way to transform the legacy that she’d been handed. Her mother’s life ended in a house just like this.

She wanted to take the ugly and transform it, to make it not just useful but beautiful. Because she was the Carpenter’s daughter, and she had her Father’s heart. Emotion swarmed me as I watched her. Everything she’d wrestled with that summer, and the work God was doing in her, now swirled in my heart. I pressed my trembling lips together and reached for her shoulders.

I couldn’t find the words to tell her I knew what she was thinking, or that in that moment she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Or how much I loved her. So I tugged her toward me, wrapped my arms around her, and held her against my chest, hoping she’d hear it all in the rhythm of my heartbeat.

I thought maybe she understood, because she leaned against me and after a moment, circled her arms around my waist.

This. I wanted a lifetime of this. We could conquer this house, and the other houses, and any other disaster we stepped into. Together we were a complete team.

Sarah lifted her head and started to pull away. “So you’ll do it?”

I wasn’t ready to let her go. “Are you going to help me?”

She leaned back to study my face, which was bold for her. I couldn’t read the questions there, but I knew she was asking them.

“I need your help.” No.
I need you.
That was what I should have said.

A small smile settled on her mouth. “You know I can’t say no to you.” She turned away and skittered out of the house.

Not fair. That kind of conversation was not supposed to end with her back to me.

I had no choice but to let it go and to follow her toward Grant’s waiting car. Putting away the desire to taste her lips, however, was a much more demanding task. Why’d she run away like that?

I’d ask her. As soon as we got back to Rick and Darcy’s.

Didn’t work out that way. Sarah’s aunt and uncle had all sorts of questions about the project, and somewhere in the mix, Sarah announced that she was going back home.

She sat across from me on a wicker chair in the shade of a locust tree as the four of us talked. “I haven’t talked to my dad in a few days,” she said, refusing to look at me. “I need to go back.”

True. I wished she’d told me earlier. How was all of this supposed to work?

Sarah

I folded the last of my clothes and slid them into my bag. Hadn’t brought much, so it didn’t take long to pack, but I’d been hiding in my borrowed bedroom in Darcy’s basement for nearly an hour.

I just couldn’t face him anymore.

Knowing he’d come for the project houses set my daydreams straight, but Jesse drew out the vulnerable parts of me that were raw and tender. It’d be easy to slip into the temptation to stay here under the guise of helping him like he wanted, while hoping the whole time his hugs would become more frequent and tip his heart toward me.

But that would be foolish hope, and I couldn’t tell him that. Leaving was the only option. And I really did need to see my dad.

“Knock, knock.” A set of knuckles tapped on the doorframe to my room, and Jesse stood in the opening, his hands shoved into his pockets.

I glanced away before we made eye contact, and focused unusually hard on zipping my bag. “Hey.”

“You’re not leaving tonight, are you?”

Shrugging, I tossed the bag onto the floor. “Yeah. I want to catch my dad when he’s not working, and I don’t know what project he’s on right now, so I don’t know what time he’ll leave in the morning.”

Jesse wandered in, looking uncomfortable, and slowly sat on the end of my bed. “When did you decide you were going?”

“I don’t know.” I crossed my arms and leaned back against the wall. Something felt strained between us. Why was this friendship so emotionally demanding?

He looked at me, and it seemed that his face hardened. “Wish you’d said something earlier.”

“What?”

“I just got here, and…”

And what?

One hand pushed through his hair—which had been cut—making it stand up. “It’s just that…well, I mean…I need your help. I thought we’d do this together.”

Together. A word with barbs hidden within its syllables. But he couldn’t have known how that one statement would needle me.

“I’ve got the pictures. We got the footprints down on paper. I’ll work on it.”

“But—” He pushed up off the bed and took a step toward me. “It’d be better, easier if you were here.” Another step closed the gap between us. “I need you…on this project.”

The fact that he had to qualify his need was exactly why I couldn’t stay. “I need to get things straightened out with my dad.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I do. It’s just…”

“Look, I’ll help you, okay? I promise I will, but I can’t be here now.”

“You seem to run away a lot, Sarah.”

I pushed off the wall and stood straight. “Run away?”

“Yes.”

“What am I running from?”

He stared at me, blinked, and then turned away. The way his shoulders caved made my heart sink. Why was he doing this? Because he wanted me on a job? That wasn’t fair.

“I feel like you’re manipulating me.”

His shoulders rolled back, and he turned his look back to me. “What?”

“You can’t make me feel bad about this, Jesse. It’s not fair. My dad…he’s all I have. I can’t lose him. You’re making me feel bad about a job when I am on a slippery slope with my father. I have to go back, and I thought you’d understand that.”

Jesse stared at his feet as he rubbed his neck. The moments pounded by with heavy silence, and then he sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be manipulative.”

The look he pinned on me was both disappointed and sincere. What was I supposed to do with this man? He managed to touch on every emotion possible in my heart.

He pushed his hands back into his pockets and swung around to leave my room, shoulders drooping again.

Guilt pushed forward. “Jesse, wait.” He paused but didn’t look at me. I darted a look around my room, searching for something to make our unease die. My vision settled on my laptop. “We could work on those drawings for a bit, if you want.”

He turned, an attempt at a smile on his mouth. “You should hit the road.”

“No. I can give it another hour.” I reached for my computer. “Okay?”

His eyes slid shut, and he didn’t respond for the longest moment. How was I supposed to read him?

Jesse

Drawings? Couldn’t have cared less about them. All I wanted was to fill my arms with her.

But she’d called me manipulative. I was having a serious problem with that personal flaw that only recently had come to my attention.

Why was she leaving all of the sudden? To fix things with her dad—which if I thought was the truth of the whole deal, would be a good thing. But I felt like she was running. From me.

I’d come back. Made the trip in a straight-through-the night drive. That should have counted for something.

My heart felt whiplashed. But if drawings would buy me another hour…

“Sure.” I tipped my head toward the couch in the room beyond hers.

After grabbing her laptop, she followed me to the family room, and we settled on the cushions. She on one side, me on the other. Not going to work. So while she flipped open the screen, I slid over. Confidence had siphoned from me over the past hour, but I worked up enough boldness to lay my arm on the space behind her. She didn’t seem to notice.

With the pads of her fingers, she tapped the file marked
Reno
, and a picture bloomed on the screen. Only it wasn’t of any of the houses we’d looked at earlier that day.

I leaned forward. “What’s this?”

“Wrong file. Sorry.” She moved to close it.

I snagged her hand and held it. “No, wait. What is it?”

“A house.”

Yes, Sherlock. Next clue please. “Do you have another project in the works?”

“No.” Her answer came fast, and then she hesitated.

I also noted that she hadn’t tugged her hand from mine. “No?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“What?”

I chuckled. She wiggled away from my grasp, but her hand fell limp rather than closing the file. With a reverse pinching motion, I expanded the picture.

“For sale.” I glanced to her. “Looks like a project.”

“Yeah.”

“Where is it?”

“Outside of Minden, toward the interstate.”

I grinned. “Are you bidding on someone else’s project or buying your own?”

“I’m not doing anything at the moment.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “I saw it on my way here. I was curious.”

Moving the picture so I could see the details more clearly, I examined the house. Not nearly the disaster I was taking on. Actually, it looked like a nice place. Well, like it had a whole lot of potential to be a nice place.

I shifted to grab my phone from my pocket, and the movement pushed me toward her. A hint of warm vanilla filled my nostrils. I breathed deeper.

“You smell good.”

One dark eyebrow hiked over her blue eyes. “I do, huh?”

“Yep.” I leaned closer again and sniffed. “What do you wear?”

Now both eyebrows raised. “Clothes?”

I laughed. “Yes. What is that smell, ornery?”

“Soap, I guess. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

See? This was why I loved this girl. So not fussy. Simple.

She pushed my shoulder back as if I were invading her space. “You ask weird questions.”

Yes, I did. But maybe she’d feel special knowing I noticed her—everything about her. And heaven knew I wanted her to feel special.

I returned my attention to the phone in my hand and leaned toward the computer on her lap so that I could make out the numbers on that sign.

“What are you doing now?” She snatched the cell and looked at the five numbers I’d managed to punch in. “You can’t call.”

I covered both her hand and the phone. “Why not?”

“Because you don’t know anything about it.”

“I would if you told me.”