Restoring Her Faith

“I’m not so sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“I asked Mayor Pearson about it. Both of us remember the restoration team choosing Leaded Pane. He’s going to go through all the bids tomorrow.”

“So you’re thinking that other outfit might show up in the morning, ready to get to work.” His friend shook his head. “That’ll be awkward.”

“Tell me about it.” As if Drake didn’t have enough drama to deal with. Then again, that was the best-case scenario. The worst would be her actually doing the job and proving incompetent. “The restoration team’ll handle it. Let her down gently and send her on her way.”

He glanced at his dad. He had to be getting cranky, sitting in the SUV like he was.

Drake turned to see what was keeping his mom, then froze.

Faith stood a few feet away, and based on her expression, had been there for some time. Long enough to hear most everything.

“Hello.” Her tone was clipped.

Bryce cleared his throat and took a half step back, as if distancing himself from the mess Drake had just created.

“Hey.” Drake swallowed.

While he fidgeted, trying to untangle his tongue, Bryce tipped his hat to Drake’s mom and sister as they approached. “Mrs. Owens. Elizabeth.”

“Such a lovely evening.” His mom smiled, completely oblivious to the tension filling the air. “Where’s that beautiful wife and son of yours? I wanted to say hi, but, well...”

She’d never left Dad’s side except to fill plates. Bryce was right. She needed a break. He and Elizabeth would have to figure out how to make that happen. Regularly.

“They’re probably still down by the lake trying to catch snakes,” Bryce said. “Or I should say, Elijah’s chasing snakes while his momma’s standing on the tallest rock, praying this phase of his passes quickly.”

“Good luck with that one.” His mom laughed. “Well, I suppose we should go. You ready, Elizabeth?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She flicked everyone a wave, then turned to Faith. “We’ll see you Friday?”

Drake raised his eyebrows. When had Faith and his sister gotten so chummy? And what did she mean by we? Not that it mattered. The woman would be heading back to Austin soon enough.

Except she was going nowhere right now. Her car was in the shop. Because of him.

* * *

Faith pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to keep from saying something stupid, and accompanied Drake to the truck. So he didn’t want her here. Thought she couldn’t do the job. The cocky, small-minded... She’d just have to prove him—and everyone else in Sage Creek—wrong.

Like she’d been trying to do with her dad for the past decade, ever since she dropped out of college to pursue a career in art. That had gone over real well; the professor’s daughter hadn’t made it through her junior year.

And if Drake was right, if somehow she was here by mistake? She’d be out a good deal of money. And who knew how long it would take the town mechanic to fix her vehicle?

Which Mr. Cowboy had totaled. She should make him pay for her hotel. If the restoration team gave her the boot, that’s exactly what she’d do. She had no choice. She didn’t have the money for a random, unexpected “vacation.”

How was she supposed to get to the church and back to her hotel each day?

Eyeing Drake, she frowned. She had no intention of becoming dependent on some macho cowboy.

No matter how handsome.

Grabbing on to the handle above the door, she hoisted herself into the sauna-like truck, her long skirt twisting around her legs. With a grimace, she fought to free herself from the fabric as gracefully as possible.

He engaged the engine, and hot air pelted Faith’s face. “Whew.” He angled the vents away from both of them, then shifted into Reverse. “Far’s I can tell, Mr. Johnson left an hour or so ago. He should be back at the hotel now.”

Rocks clanged against the truck’s undercarriage as he turned onto the dirt road leading back to town. “I’ll give him a call to make sure.” He pulled his phone from his back pocket, put it on speaker, then set it on the dash. “I lost my Bluetooth.”

It rang four times before anyone answered. “Hey-lo. Cedar View Inn. Where the coffee’s hot, the cable’s connected and the view’s pristine.”

“Hey, Mr. Johnson. It’s me, Drake.”

“Figured as much. You calling about that gal friend of yours?”

“Yes, sir. We’re heading your way, if that’s all right.”

“Course it is. I’ll go turn the air on in her room now.”

“She’d be mighty obliged, I’m sure.” Call over, he set his phone in his cup holder and turned onto the paved street. “What’d you think of the picnic?”

“It was nice. The food was good.”

He nodded and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You and my sister seemed to hit it off.”

She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “She and your mom want to learn how to paint.” She gave a soft laugh. “They said they’d trade me a home-cooked meal for lessons.” It felt awkward saying that. It would probably feel awkward going, but...those dinners could save her a chunk of change. Money she’d desperately need, especially if she found herself stuck here, unemployed, with hotel fees to pay.

This would be a first, to get fired before even getting started.

And if Mr. Cowboy’s insurance didn’t come through and he decided not to honor his word, she’d be in the red.

Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and exhaled. It was R & T Glass Supply. “Hello?”

“Faith. Sorry I missed your call.”

“No problem. Listen, I’m sort of in a bind here.” She explained her predicament and pulled a pocket notebook from her purse. On it, she’d written all the details needed to make her order. “You wouldn’t happen to have any more cobalt-blue and jade-green sheets on hand, would you?” She read the item number for each.

“Nope. But I can get some in.”

She rubbed her temple, pushing back an emerging headache. “You want to check? I’ll hold.”

“Don’t need to. I remember your order. Didn’t see the need to buy any extra.”

Great. It could take weeks to get those sheets in, time she didn’t have. “Any chance you can rush order some?”

“Sure, but it’ll be expensive.”

“How much are we talking?”

“You’d need to pay the freight fee. Five hundred bucks.”

She winced and shot Drake a glance, to find him watching her. Probably waiting to calculate how big of a check he’d need to write, considering this was all his fault. What kind of man drove sixty miles per hour on a wobbly tire?

“How soon could you get them in?”

“Don’t know. Forty-eight hours. Maybe sooner.”

“Great. Let’s do it.” She shifted the phone from her mouth. “I sure hope your insurance comes through on this.”

Drake pulled into the hotel between her trailer and a beat-up, pale blue pickup. “If they don’t, I’ll reimburse you personally.”

She studied him. Yet another promise from a man she knew nothing about. Except that he was an irresponsible driver who liked to take risks on the open highway. Only this time, she didn’t have any witnesses to hold him accountable.

“You’ll sign on it?”

He frowned, but then his expression softened and one side of his mouth quirked up. “Sure. No problem.”

She wrote out a simple agreement, then handed over the paper and her pen.

He signed, then returned it.

“Thanks.” She grabbed her purse, ready to bolt.

“I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning.”

To take her to a job he felt certain she couldn’t do.

She had every intention of proving him wrong.

Chapter Four

At seven the next morning, Faith stood in front of a small, tarnished mirror, giving her hair more attention than she had in all her teen years combined. It didn’t help that she’d woken to find three zits on her face, one smack in the center of her forehead. Nor that she was about to start a job where she was clearly unwanted.

The fact that she cared irked her considerably. This wasn’t Alpine, nor was she a lanky, awkward nerd—the kid that never fit in and everyone else made fun of—anymore.

Instead, she was an insecure, nearly impoverished adult who, according to her father, wasted her time chasing fanciful dreams.

She grabbed her eyebrow brush with a huff. If Mr. Cowboy and his friends planned to send her packing this morning, at least she’d look good when they did. She had just finished penciling in her brows when a thought hit. She’d forgotten to change her shipping info, which meant they’d send her glass supplies to the store in Austin, and not to Sage Creek.

Was it too late to adjust her order?

R & T’s wouldn’t be open for another two and a half hours. By then, her supplies could be halfway to Austin.

She paced her tiny hotel room. With her car in the shop and no access to public transportation, how was she supposed to pick up the glass?

Drake could drive her. The man who believed she was an incompetent artist and who was just waiting for the restoration committee to give her the boot. Her empty stomach tensed.

Regardless, he was the only logical solution, and all things considered, it was the least he could do. She shot him a text: I need a ride to Austin to pick up my glass when it comes in.

She tucked her phone into her purse, gathered up some historical photographs and headed to the hotel lobby in search of breakfast.

The small, wood-paneled room, empty except for two men occupying separate tables, smelled like burned coffee and Pine-Sol. How did this place stay open? The bigger question was how did a town this small have the revenue to pay for a major church restoration?

That might not be her concern much longer.

The more she thought about Drake, him picking her up, taking her to Austin, the more jittery she felt. Scrolling through her Facebook, she tried to distract herself with photos of kittens.

“Looks like your ride’s here.” Mr. Johnson hooked his thumb toward the parking lot, then grabbed a pink-frosted doughnut from the food counter.

She gathered her things and stepped outside, her heart stuttering when Drake’s eyes met hers. She dropped her gaze, set her stuff on the passenger seat, then faced her trailer.

She needed it at the job site but was in no mood to ask Mr. Cocky Cowboy for help, even if he owed it to her.

“Need a hand?”

His citrusy, earthy cologne invaded her senses and stole her words.

His mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin that made her cheeks flame. “Rig’s unlocked.” He jerked his head toward the truck, then began hitching her trailer to it.

With a brisk nod she hoped conveyed confidence, she climbed into the cab to wait. Cool air circulated throughout the interior, his aftershave merging with the scents of wood chips, leather and stale coffee.

Less than five minutes later, they were backing out of the parking lot and heading toward the work site.

“I got your text.” He adjusted his visor to block rays from the rising sun.

She gave a curt nod.

“When were you thinking?”

“Whenever the glass comes in. Hopefully by tomorrow afternoon.”

A tendon twitched in his jaw. “Austin, right?”

“Yeah. Just north of downtown.”

He massaged the back of his neck. “That’ll be tough, with the restoration and all.”

She crossed her arms. “That’s not my fault, now, is it?”

His eyebrows shot up. He glanced at the rearview mirror, then back to the road. “Reckon you’re right. I’ll make it work. Just let me know when.”

“Thanks.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

“How’d you sleep?” He slid her a sideways glance. “You like the place all right?”

“It was nice. Quiet.”

“Most everything in Sage Creek is.”

Was it? Or was it a town filled with gossipy chatter about how she wasn’t supposed to be here? She’d likely find out soon enough.

In an effort to relax before the tension in her shoulders turned to knots, she gazed out her side window, watching the tall, golden grass wave and shimmy in the morning breeze.

They reached the end of downtown, if you could call it that, and Drake took a sharp left. They continued through a residential area with single-story brick homes shaded by mature trees. Half the yards boasted American flags, while rusted or wooden wagon wheels decorated a handful of others.

The neighborhood dead-ended with an expanse of trees in front of them and a gravel road veering to their right. Drake turned onto it, dust seeping through the vents and tickling Faith’s nose.

She sneezed.

“Bless you.”

His smiling eyes sent an unwelcomed tingle through her. “Thank you.”

Straightening, she looked away, determined to keep her rebellious hormones, or whatever kept snagging on the man’s appealing grin, in check. She had no intention of falling for Mr. Cowboy, or staying in Sage Creek any longer than necessary.

He parked, and she took in a deep breath, hoping the beauty of the historic church before her, with its gothic windows and steeply pitched roof, would soothe her nerves. If only she could recapture the peace and joy she’d felt when she came out to do the estimate—when no one else had been on the property except for Lucy Carr, from the cultural committee.

This morning, cars filled the small gravel parking lot and at least half a dozen men and women, some in jeans and T-shirts, others in business casual, dotted the church lawn.

She touched the door handle, reluctant to leave the vehicle. “Um... What’s this about?”

“I ’spect folks coming to help.”

Hopefully, with the construction end of things, because she had no intention of letting anyone mess with the church’s fragile antique windows. Anticipation surfaced at the thought of touching glass from an era that in many towns had been lost and forgotten.

Though she’d taken a plethora of photos during her estimate, she itched to take more. They would provide months’ worth of inspiration later. Jewelry that captured the multicolored rays of sunlight as it dispersed through the dusty sanctuary. Glass mosaics with the same sharp, dramatic elements displayed in the castle-like bell tower.

But first, she needed to focus on the task at hand...assuming they still wanted her.

She gathered her things and stepped out into the muggy, morning air.

“Ah, Drake, there you are.” A plump elderly woman with wiry gray hair poofing out from beneath a yellow bandanna shuffled toward them. “I was starting to think you’d never get here.” One of her knee-highs sagged halfway down her shin.

“Ma’am.” He greeted her with a tip of his Stetson. “It’s just after eight.”

“My point exactly. Some of these folks have been here for going on thirty minutes already. They’ve been patient enough, but I worried, any longer and they’d start meddling where they didn’t belong. You know how folks can be.”

His mouth twitched as if suppressing a chuckle. “That I do.”

“Oh, I made you breakfast.” She slipped a massive green purse-like contraption off her shoulder, snapped it open and produced a mound of something wrapped in a paper towel. Then, as if seeing Faith for the first time, she said, “Oh, hello. You must be Faith Nichols.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ve been wanting to meet with you.” She rummaged through her purse, unloading numerous random items onto the grass. Paper clips, pieces of gum, half a candy bar, what looked to be an old hair roller. “I printed a bunch of pictures, designs, whatnot, off the internet. Although some are black-and-white, they should give you an idea as to...” She huffed. “Now where did those pages go?” She leveled her gaze on Faith. “Library charges five cents a copy. Can you imagine?” She resumed her search until a small mound lay at her feet.

Finally, she threw her hands up with a loud exhalation. “Wouldn’t you know it? I bet I left those papers on my kitchen table. I got distracted when my pill alarm went off, fought to get my orange juice open...”

The woman continued retelling every moment of her morning.

Faith exchanged a glance with Drake. His eyes were dancing with suppressed laughter, giving him a boyish appearance she found much too appealing.

She cleared her throat. “If you’ll excuse—”

“Drake, Faith, good to see you.”

She turned to see Lucy Carr, the president of the cultural committee, striding toward them, clipboard in one hand and what looked to be file folders in the other.

Drake laid a hand on the arm of the woman with the green purse. “Can I catch up with you later?”

The woman waved a hand. “Of course. You know where to find me.” And then she shuffled away.

Faith offered Lucy her most professional smile. “Ma’am.”

“You both ready to work your magic?” Lucy shaded her eyes and gazed toward the fire-damaged church. “To turn this place from a mess of ashes to beauty?” She laughed. “Get it? Ashes to beauty?”

Faith frowned. “Um, not exactly.”

“It’s from the Bible—”

“Listen.” Drake scratched his jaw. “Think I can speak with you a minute? In private, I mean?”

“Ah...” Lucy glanced from Drake to her clipboard, then back again. “Sure. Soon as we finish—”

“Actually, I think now might be best.”

A hollow sensation filled Faith’s gut as she looked from one to the other. He wasn’t seriously going to try to get her fired, was he? The guarded look on Drake’s face suggested she wasn’t going to like the answer.

Chapter Five

The vulnerability in Faith’s eyes, almost like she was begging not to be rejected, tugged at Drake’s heart.

He felt bad for wanting her off the project.

But it wasn’t personal. This was a big restoration, in terms of money and sentimental value. To the folks of Sage Creek, Trinity Faith was much more than a church. It preserved memories going back since the town was first founded. Countless baptisms and weddings had been held here.

It was where Drake and his wife had fallen in love and, years later, where they’d said their vows. And where her funeral had been held, the whole town coming out to pay their respects. Though he’d worked through his grief, he still wanted to hold tight to his memory of that day.

Besides, he couldn’t let his mom down. She’d been crushed once she’d seen the destruction left by the fire. Then came Dad’s accident. Drake couldn’t do anything about the latter, but he could make sure the church got repaired, to as good or even better a condition than it had been in before. Even if that meant hurting Ms. City Girl’s feelings.

Faith took a visible breath. “Where’s the restroom?”

“Inside, all the way to the back, turn right.” Lucy pointed to the church, then faced Drake as Faith headed off. “What’s up? Everything okay with your daddy?”

“Far’s I know. He was sleeping when I dropped the kids off this morning.”

“And your mom? She’s holding up okay?”

“A mite tired, but yeah.”

The woman released a gust of air. “I’m glad. I worried you were going to tell me you can’t go through with this job. I know the timing stinks, with your dad’s accident and all. Everything’s good, then?”

“Not exactly.” He guided her toward an old picnic table near the back of the church.

“All right, then. What’s wrong?”

“Did Mayor Pearson talk with you? About Leaded Pane?” He’d thought about having this conversation with Lucy yesterday at the picnic, but she’d left before he’d had a chance. When he tried calling that evening, her phone hadn’t let him leave a message, saying her inbox was full.

“The bids.” Lucy smoothed her long skirt and sat. “He told you about that, then?”

“No. I saw them for myself, when y’all were making your decisions. So that I could plan out my end, remember?”

“Right.” She rubbed her forehead. “Everything’s gotten jumbled, I’ll give you that. But I don’t see what we can do at this point.”

“Tell Faith something must have been miscommunicated somewhere, that you’re sorry, but... What time did Leaded Pane say they’d show up?”

“They aren’t coming.”

“What do you mean? Why?”

“Because we never called them. We got the bids mixed up. For now, all’s I can tell you is Jenna Anne told Faith she got the job.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I’m saying is—”

“What she’s saying is you’re stuck with me.”

* * *

At least now she knew they weren’t going to give her the boot. Not unless Mr. Cowboy made a stink. Though he looked ready to crawl under that lopsided picnic table he was sitting at.

“Faith.” Lucy sprang to her feet. “I didn’t see you there.”

She leveled her gaze on Drake. “So I gathered.” Easy, girl. Don’t get yourself fired. She faced Lucy. “You wanted to speak with me?”

The woman stared at her. “I... Uh... I wanted to make sure you have everything you need to get started.”

“I do.”

“If you have any questions or run into any difficulties, you’ve got my number.”

“I do.”

Lucy gave a quick nod, looked from Faith to Drake then back to Faith, and then walked away.

Faith intended to do the same. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” She spun on her heel and marched, head held high, toward her trailer.

Drake jogged after her. He caught up and matched her step for step. “Need help unloading?”

She stopped and glared at him. “Contrary to what you might think, Mr.—”

“Call me Drake.”

Oh, she could think of half a dozen other things she’d like to call him. “—I’m not completely inept, Drake.” Reaching her trailer out of breath, she dug through her pocket for the key to the dead-bolted doors. She suppressed a moan. Of course it was in her purse, which, in her nervousness, she’d left in Drake’s truck.

He stepped into her peripheral vision. “Everything all right?”

“Absolutely. Is your truck locked?”

“Nope. Why? You need something?”

“I do.” She strode toward his vehicle, still attached to her trailer, with as much self-respect as she could muster. She knew better than to let someone like Drake get to her. Every town had men like him, cowboys who sweet-talked naive and gullible women, swept them off their feet, then left them heartbroken.

Like Josh had done to her.

Those type of men weren’t worth a second thought, except she did have to work with Drake. Joy. She yanked open his passenger side door and grabbed her purse.

A moment later, she returned to find him standing in the same place, watching her.

Ignoring his steady gaze, she fumbled with her lock. Then, hands slick from the mounting Texas humidity, she strained to unload sheets of glass from her trailer.

“I cleared out the back shed for you—so you could have uninterrupted workspace.” He motioned toward a small, dilapidated building past the far corner of the church. Thick, overgrown trees and bushes pressed up against it on either side. In front of it sat what appeared to be numerous metal tubs.

“Does the shed have electricity?”

“Yep. The sanctuary’s going to be a mess, with us tearing up the carpet and all.” He eyed the various colored sheets spread out beside her. “Hold on. I’ll drive your trailer closer to your work area. So we don’t need to carry everything so far.”

“Fine.” She stepped back to give him room to maneuver his rig then followed him on foot to the shed.

He parked and stepped out. “I’ll unload those sheets for you.”

“No.” Her tone came out clipped. She took a deep breath. “I appreciate your help, but these are expensive and very fragile.”

“It’s not like I’m going to juggle the things.”

Ignoring him, she climbed inside the trailer to get to her glass cutting tools. He offered to help a couple more times, and she declined, rather firmly and probably with much less professionalism than appropriate.

She nearly ate her words when she got to her portable grinder. The cord had gotten stuck beneath the box of lead came used to join cut glass pieces together.