A House Full of Hope

Becca pushed her glasses higher up on her nose, her big brown eyes wide with wonder. “I wish Nana would babysit us at our new house. There’s so much new territory to explore, so much to show her.”

Since Becca’s nose was always in a book, particularly of the Nancy Drew mystery variety, Hannah had no doubt the old farmhouse had opened up a whole new world for her daughter. But Hannah’s mother refused to set foot on Ryker property. “We’ll see.”

As she drove away from downtown Corinthia, the courthouse and storefronts shrinking in her rearview mirror, Hannah imagined she could breathe more deeply. Along the ten-minute drive, homes grew farther apart, and the landscape changed to pastures dotted with cows or horses and the occasional farmhouse.

When she reached Redd Ryker’s mailbox, she turned onto their property and glanced at the dashboard clock. Mark’s visit, and the fact that he’d left her stewing, had put her behind all day long.

“Since it’s so late, how about I make frozen pizza for dinner?”

Squeals and clapping hands rattled her brain as she wound along the dirt-and-gravel road for about a hundred yards. Trees arched over the drive from each side, forming a canopy dappled with the evening sunlight. The tranquility even managed to quiet the kids.

“I love this part,” Tony whispered.

They entered the clearing, and the house came into sight. The squeals and clapping began anew.

“Can I play outside?” Emily begged.

“Me, too?” Eric added as he unbuckled and tried to climb over Emily to get out first. He could never let Emily do something before he did.

“For about a half hour.” Hannah pointed to the left side of the house toward the garage apartment where Redd lived. “Y’all play in the side yard or out back in case Mr. Redd drives up. Be sure to stay out of the way.”

“Okay, Mommy!” Emily yelled as the four escaped from the van to play under the huge live oak tree towering over the freestanding two-story garage. Hannah unlocked the front door, stepped inside and nearly tripped over boxes that still needed unpacking.

Two weeks since they moved, and she’d barely made a dent in the number of boxes. But with her job and the kids home for the summer, she could hardly find time to cook and do the laundry. Unpacking had to be done in bits and snatches.

She went to turn on the oven to preheat, then plopped down on a box marked Hughes—kitchen.

Though she was thrilled to have the house, disappointment nibbled at her joy. She had hoped to build her dream home, a haven for her and the kids, and to finally experience the security of owning a home. But once the medical bills and funeral expenses had been paid, the insurance money was nearly gone. Anthony had made the mistake of procrastinating on increasing his policy once the children were born.

We’re young and healthy, he’d said. We need the money for groceries.

And, foolishly, she hadn’t insisted he rectify the situation. Now, all she’d been able to afford was a larger rental property. Home ownership would have to come later.

She opened the box she’d been sitting on and dug to find the round baking sheet. After washing it, she pulled the pizza out of the freezer and popped it into the oven.

The kitchen was slowly looking homier. At least now they didn’t have to squeeze into a three-bedroom apartment, and once school started in the fall, they wouldn’t be stepping all over each other as they got ready for work and school in the mornings. Even if the Ryker house didn’t belong to them, it was still theirs for the time being.

As long as Mark didn’t cause a problem.

The front door banged open, and Becca barreled into the room, winded. “Can we let Blue out of his pen?”

She smiled at her precious daughter, who’d begged for a pet for the past three years. Redd’s dog, a sweet and endlessly patient black Labrador retriever, had been almost as big a draw as the house. “You sure can.”

As Becca zipped back outside with an echoing whoop of joy, worry crept over Hannah. What if Mark had come home to stake a claim? She looked around a room where Mark and his brother, Matt, would have eaten their meals with friends and family.

What if Mark suddenly had an interest in the family home?

Hannah knew she would do whatever she had to do to keep her kids happy.

Since Hannah had thwarted Mark’s plan to check into his dad’s financial state, on Saturday morning he decided to return to the house and do a closer inspection. To estimate the cost of needed repairs.

He’d assumed Redd would be at the hardware store, but an unfamiliar green minivan sat parked out front. The truck he’d seen the day before was gone. He should probably knock before walking the property. In case his dad was there. And if he was…

Well, Mark would try once again to apologize.

This time, he looked more closely as he inspected the dirty front porch that fronted three sides of the old home. When he reached the far corner, he caught himself grabbing for the cobweb-covered broom as if he were still ten years old. Sweeping the porch had been his and Matt’s job—a chore they’d deemed too girly.

He smiled at the memory, yet being on their old stomping grounds intensified the emptiness that never quite left him.

Matt, who’d suffered mild brain damage at their birth, hadn’t been as strong and healthy as Mark. Mark had always tried to include him, though. But one day when they were fifteen, and their dad shooed them from the hardware store, Mark talked Matt into going fishing on the lake. Into taking out their dad’s boat, knowing good and well they weren’t supposed to go alone…knowing Matt couldn’t swim.

As he turned away from the broom and faced the front door, he doubted his sanity. Only a glutton for punishment would return to this house again. We are more than conquerors through Him who loved us, he reminded himself, a Bible verse he had clung to for years.

He raised his fist to knock, but something tugged on his pant leg.

“Hi, Mister.” A little boy about five or six years old stared up at him with big brown eyes. “Are you looking for Mommy?”

After a glance around the porch and yard, he squatted down to the child’s level. “No. I’m looking for my, uh…” daddy? “…father.”

All business, the boy crossed his arms and seemed to ponder the situation. “You look kinda old to be lost.”

Trying to match the boy’s expression, Mark stifled a laugh. But then sobered when he realized how close to home the boy had hit. “Actually, this is my house. My dad lives here.”

The kid shook his head. “You really are lost. ’Cause this is my new house.”

Laughter sounded somewhere off to the side of the house. Then three children appeared around the corner, chattering. One by one, they stopped talking when they saw Mark.

Only the youngest girl approached and tromped up the steps. “Who are you?”

“He’s lost,” the first boy said, as if imparting the juiciest of secrets.

“Lost?” The oldest girl hurried up the steps and scrutinized Mark. “How exciting.” Large brown eyes that matched the youngest boy’s widened. She peered at him from behind pink, sparkly plastic-rimmed glasses. “I can help. I’m good at solving mysteries.”

A bush swished as the last child—a boy somewhere between the oldest and younger two in age—kicked around the overgrown shrubbery, ignoring the investigation on the porch.

Mark turned back to the others. “Actually, I’m looking for my dad, Redd Ryker. He lives here. And you are…?”

“My children.”

Mark turned and found Hannah Hughes behind the screen door. Inside his family home. She looked even less friendly than yesterday.

“See, I told you this was my house,” the youngest boy said.

Hannah stepped outside, and as the door swung open, Mark caught a glimpse of boxes in the entryway. As if someone was moving.

He pointed to the boxes. “What’s going on?”

“Kids, go wash up. There’s a snack on the table.”

Once they’d scampered into the house, Hannah turned back to him. “We’re renting from your father.”

Incredulous, he sputtered, “That can’t be. My dad would never rent this place. It belonged to his grandfather.” And was Mark’s home, even if he hadn’t set foot in it for years.

A sudden longing to be close to his mom again made it difficult to speak. He wanted to go inside, see what had become of his old bedroom. Of his spot at the kitchen table. Of his mother’s things.

Hannah looked away, almost guiltily. “Apparently, he’s decided he doesn’t need such a big house and prefers to live in the garage apartment.”

The garage? No matter how badly Mark had wronged this woman’s family, he couldn’t let her run all over his family. “Look at this place. It’s run-down. My guess is you took advantage of his financial difficulties.”

There it was again—a flash of guilt. “We simply responded to an ad in the newspaper.”

He took a step closer and stared into her eyes. They were a beautiful, pure green and couldn’t hide a thing. “Now I understand why you wouldn’t give me information about Dad’s finances at the bank yesterday.”

He had to give her credit. She didn’t back down. No, she actually leaned in closer. “I told you. I don’t have authorization to divulge information on your father’s accounts.”

“Accounts, plural? Maybe including a line of credit?”

Her face revealed a flicker of something he took as confirmation before she turned away. “I need to go check on the kids.”

“I see you’re not settled yet. I suggest you and your husband wait to unpack. Before I leave town, I’d like to know that all Dad’s finances are in order and he’s back in his home.”

“I have a signed contract that says we’re staying.”

“I guess we’ll see about that.” As he strode to the garage, he promised himself he’d get to the bottom of the situation. If his dad was in the bind he suspected, then Mark had to make sure he was financially secure. Redd might refuse to speak to him, but surely he wouldn’t refuse help. Mark would park himself in the garage if he had to, until his dad listened to reason.

He banged on the upstairs apartment door. But of course, there was no answer. Redd would be at the hardware store, probably all day.

He plopped down on the top of the steep outside stairs and leaned his forearms on his knees. He’d come home to apologize. That was it. To say he was sorry, have his dad pronounce forgiveness, and then head back to Seattle.

And now he’d found the man in a mess.

Well, Mark had nothing to do with the situation, so he could just run by the store and apologize one more time. Then be on his way.

But a nudge in his gut—the same one he’d trusted when he’d come here in the first place—told him he needed to see this through.

He opened his cell phone to two measly bars of service and managed a staticky call to his assistant. He informed her of his change of plans.

In several years, Redd would be facing retirement. He should be able to sell his store and live in comfort—not in some apartment over the garage.

It might take Mark two or three days, but he would not leave town until he knew his dad was okay financially and settled back in his home. He owed him that much.

“I found him first.”

“Uh-uh. We all found him together.”

Hannah stepped between the twins, their riotous wavy hair adding to the sense of perpetual energy and motion that surrounded them.

“No one found Mark. He wasn’t even lost. He was here to see Mr. Redd.” She pointed both children toward their new bedrooms. “Now, no more arguing. I switched the schedule to have this Saturday off work so we could do some more unpacking.”

Becca whooped from her room across the upstairs hallway, the sound bouncing off the hardwood floors and high ceilings. The only drawback to a larger, older house was how noise carried. And boy, did her family produce noise.

“I’ll help each of you arrange your room the way you want it,” Hannah said. “Eric, you first.”

Eric huffed and pointed at Emily. “No fair. She’ll get to play longer while I have to do chores.”

“No more arguing. Get to work.”

Tony stuck his head out his door. “When’s Nana going to come see my new room?”

The child loved his grandmother, even with her faults—one of which was holding grudges. She was furious Hannah had moved into a house owned by those Rykers. All these years later, Donna refused to associate with Redd, even though he’d had nothing to do with his son’s behavior.

“I don’t know, sweetie. I’ll be sure to invite her again, though.”

Tony, named for his father, was the only one of the four with Hannah’s green eyes. He was also the most sensitive. Hannah worried that her mom’s refusal to come around would end up hurting him.

Of course, Mark showing up would not help one bit. Maybe Hannah could invite Nana out for the following week—well after Mark headed back to whatever rock he’d climbed out from under.

Those green eyes peeked around the door again. “Will you call her now?”

She knelt down in front of him and gently caressed his face. “Of course. Now, go figure out where you want to store your rock collection.”

As he hurried to obey, she went downstairs to call her mother from the phone in the kitchen, in case they ended up arguing.

Donna Williams picked up on the fourth ring. “Terrible timing, Hannah. I’m trying to get—” she grunted “—a pound cake into the oven.” A thump like an oven door closing rattled over the phone. “Of course, if I wasn’t on the bereavement committee at church, I wouldn’t be doing this. But how could I say no when Ann called me directly with a request for one of my pound cakes?”

If Hannah just sat quietly, she suspected her mother could carry on a whole conversation by herself. Someday, she might test the theory. “So who’s the cake for?”

“The Smith family. Maude died.” The sound of water running blasted in the background. “And you can imagine how it burns me up to have to do something nice for that no-good daughter of hers. Frederica tormented you in second grade. You almost had to change schools. But, well, your daddy refused to move and instead taught you how to fight.”

Yes, her mother still held a grudge against a second-grader who was now thirty years old. Hannah nearly laughed at the memory and made a mental note to give her dad, now remarried and living in Colorado, a call. She and her dad had often made her mother furious.

“Well, I survived. And speaking of moving…”

Banging of dishes continued. “No. I will not babysit out there.”

“Come on, Mom. It’s been two weeks, and the kids are dying to show you around.”

“Why couldn’t you just buy a nice little house in town? Or if you had to move out there to the boondocks, why not rent from someone else? Anyone but those Rykers.”

Hannah shook her head. Donna had always said the name with disdain. And she never used their first names. She lumped father and son together and deemed them both bad news.

Of course, Mark Ryker had turned their world upside down when he started dating Sydney. He’d had a reputation for being wild, and when Sydney began coming in at night with alcohol on her breath, their mom had tried her best to end the relationship.

But by then, Sydney was in love. Or so she had claimed. Hannah had always suspected she enjoyed hanging around a guy who was fun and easygoing like their dad—and not a bit like Mom.

“Mom, I’m not going to debate my decision with you. But I would like to invite you for dinner next week. Tony keeps asking when you’ll come see his bedroom.”

She harrumphed. “Well, you’re not going to catch me setting foot on those Rykers’ property. Tell Tony he’s welcome to come here anytime he wants to see his nana.”

Don’t say it, Hannah. Be calm. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi…

“Hannah, are you still there?”

“Yes.” But she might have to bite her tongue off. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi. She took a calming breath. “Please come out here one day next week to watch the kids. Redd will be at work. You won’t run into him.”

“Hannah, I warned you when you first looked at that house. You’re just going to have to bring them to my house on your way to the bank each day. And snap some photos of Tony’s room.”

Once Donna Williams made up her mind, no one could reason with her. Hannah should be grateful she had free child care with a loving family member. But she did worry about her mother’s attitude rubbing off on them.

“I guess I have no other choice.”

“I’m sorry. But I will stand firm. Now, I’ll see you at church tomorrow.”

Yes, as much as she’d love to take another day to finish unpacking and get settled, she didn’t want to miss the service.

Of course, if Mark had his way, she should keep the last of their belongings boxed up. He might, at that very moment, be talking his dad into forcing Hannah and her children out.

She gripped her aching stomach—a two-year-long side effect of chronic worry since Anthony’s death. Worry about letting her children down. About not providing well enough on her own—emotionally or financially. What if one of the kids got injured or seriously ill? Or needed braces? What if she got injured or seriously ill, or lost her job? Or if a landlord decided to kick them out?

All the more reason to stick to her plan to eventually own a home. She wouldn’t have to be at the mercy of a landlord. At the mercy of someone else to repair the property—or not. At the mercy of some man who could pop into town after fifteen years to try to ruin the life of another Williams sister.

But home ownership was years down the road. For now, she needed this house that she and the kids had grown to love. If Mark thought she would give it up without a fight, he was sadly mistaken.

Chapter Three

After a Saturday-afternoon attempt—and failure—to speak with Redd, Mark knew it was sunglasses-off time. No matter what happened with his relationship with his father, he had to let the town of Corinthia know that Mark Ryker was a changed man. And that he owed that change to the grace of God.

So on Sunday morning, he put away the sunglasses and donned the one suit he’d packed—more out of habit than because he thought he’d need it. He drove his rental car to the small church his mom had dragged Mark and Matt to when they were children.

Growing up, their dad had worked all the time and their mother had taken charge of raising the kids and seeing to their religious upbringing. Of course, Matt, the sweet, obedient child, had gone to church willingly. Mark had been another story.

He hoped his mother was looking down from heaven, seeing that her insistence and persistence had given him a foundation to fall back on years later, after his life fell apart. After he hit rock bottom and realized he could either die, or he could ask for help to climb out from under the guilt, anger and self-destructive behavior.

As the church came into sight, the thought of how far he’d come nearly overwhelmed him. He blinked back tears and, for probably the thousandth time, thanked God he hadn’t gotten addicted to the alcohol he’d used to numb the pain. And that he’d hit bottom while at the New Hope Mission. With God’s help, the staff and volunteers at the shelter had saved Mark’s life.

The white steeple of the Corinthia Church loomed bright and welcoming. Mark parked and approached the old redbrick building. As he walked in the door, the organist struck up the hymn “Amazing Grace.”

How appropriate. He had to smile at God’s sense of humor. With that smile locked in place, he searched for familiar faces.

Of course, the first person he saw was Hannah with her four children. And another woman beside her who—

He stopped in his tracks, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. The woman was Hannah’s mother, Donna Williams.

Hannah didn’t look up. She was busy whispering—fussing over the two youngest kids. As he forced himself to continue down the aisle, he vaguely noted neither husband had attended. He would need to make time to speak with Donna, to apologize to her, as well. Maybe after the service.

As if Donna were a bloodhound smelling trouble, she looked right at him. It took her about two heartbeats to recognize him, but then her eyes flared wide. She froze in place, staring, her eyes lasering fury his direction. Her face reddened, and he feared she might explode with a torrent of words. Words she’d probably wanted to say to him years ago.

He moved on, hoping to avert a scene with Donna. When he glanced to the right, old Mr. Jay from the bank gave a polite nod. Then Mark spotted his dad up front in what used to be his mom’s favorite spot, next to the organ. So he has come around and now attends church. This eased some of Mark’s fears, and he started down the aisle toward Redd.

But about halfway, he stopped. What was he thinking? This was not the setting to approach his dad again. He would embarrass him. So he turned to the back to find a seat.

A dumb move that meant he had to face everyone he’d passed.

Gabe Reynolds, who’d gone to high school with Mark, sat with a teenage girl and a woman Mark didn’t recognize. The woman, pretty, pregnant and apparently his wife, smiled kindly. Gabe merely nodded.

Two rows farther, Miss Ann Sealy, one of his favorite people from Corinthia, sat with a young man who looked familiar. Maybe her grandson. She waved but had a blank look, as if trying to place him. He’d thought of all the people in town, she would’ve been the one to give him a profuse welcome.

His chest tightened as he realized how few people would even know him now. And of those who did, how they might view him with distrust.

Shame scalded Mark’s face as he searched for the closest available seat. As he was sitting, he heard a commotion—Donna yanking her purse off the pew and stomping toward the door. Right before she exited, she glared at him.

After the door banged closed, he couldn’t help but look at Hannah. She stared after her mother, mouth covered, eyes wide. When she turned to him, her hand dropped and eyes narrowed. Her scowl said she blamed him for the outburst. He could imagine her thoughts. How dare you darken the doors of our church?

Well, the Williamses had spoken. Mark figured others might also. Probably wouldn’t matter that he was a new creature in Christ. How could the people of Corinthia ever see beyond the reckless boy who’d caused his brother’s death, hurt Sydney Williams and then skipped town?

He tried to focus on the service, but couldn’t get beyond the fact he was an outsider in his own hometown and might never be able to make amends. Yet God’s Word and the music penetrated the worry. He eventually relaxed into the pew, felt God’s peace wash over him. This was where God wanted him. He wouldn’t give up.

After the service, Mark strode toward the front to catch his dad before he left. When Mark reached the end of the pew, he waited for Redd to look up, to ask him to sit so they could talk. Who was he kidding? His dad raised his chin and stared straight ahead.

May as well have slapped up a sign that said Not Welcome Here. Still, he had to take a chance. “I’m glad you’re attending church, Dad. Mom would be pleased.”

Redd grabbed the pew in front of him for support as he stood. Then he looked at Mark with utter scorn. “Your mother and I worshipped together here for years. But then, you wouldn’t know that, would you?” He limped away, his squared shoulders a shield against his wayward son.

The jab hurt. Physical pain knifed Mark’s chest.

No, he wouldn’t have known that. And he would regret it the rest of his life. Would regret that he hadn’t come home sooner. That he hadn’t come before his mom died.

He rubbed his chest, trying to ease the pressure. Don’t go there. Think of the future.

Of course, he had no idea how to approach his father again in that future. Maybe the pastor could help. While Mark waited for the crowd to thin, he shook a few hands, drawing encouragement.