The Carpenter's Daughter (32 page)

She tugged the phone free again, hit the Home button, and then closed the file on her computer. “This isn’t what we were working on.”

“Tell me.”

With a determined set of her jaw, she ignored me, focusing instead on the screen, and opened the file with the Omaha project in it.

Nope. That wasn’t going to slide. With my thumb and index finger, I turned her chin so that she’d look at me. “Tell. Me.”

Her expression widened and then fell into a soft gaze. Kissable. So, so kissable. But then she lifted her chin and moved away.

“I thought maybe I could buy it.” She sighed. “It was just an idea, that’s all.”

“To live in?”

A growl curled from her chest, and she set the computer onto the table. “Yes. To live in. You’re just like my dad.”

I was pretty sure I was nothing like her dad. “What does that mean?”

She pushed off the couch and moved two steps out of my reach. “You don’t think I can do it.”

“That is
not
true.” I stood too but didn’t move toward her. “Why do you think I was calling?”

Her bottom lip went under her teeth.

“Know what I think?”

She wouldn’t look at me.

“This doubt or fear or whatever it is, it isn’t coming from me or from your dad.”

Quiet settled between us as she still refused to meet my gaze. I stepped forward, letting my hands drift over her arms. “I learned something last week, Sapphira.”

She finally lifted her eyes to mine. “What?”

“Gifts aren’t meant to be ignored.”

A tiny smile lifted the corners of her mouth, but then she looked down again. “What if I fail?”

“You’ll learn something along the way, and then you’ll try again.”

“But my dad—everyone in Minden—will think I’m nuts.”

I shrugged. “God won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because even if
you
don’t know you completely,
I
know you. And I know that God has given you a gift of vision, and He’s equipped you with skills. He didn’t do that so that you would never use them. This desire to try, that’s not a mistake, Sarah. He gives us wings so that we can fly.”

She searched me as if looking for validation, or maybe strength.

I was that guy—the one Rick said she needed. The one to build her confidence. I didn’t know the words to describe that kind of honor.

“You can do this, Sarah Sharpe.” My fingers slid over her arms again, this time anchoring on her hands. “You’re not going to fail—not in the long run.”

Her eyes closed and she whispered, “I’m scared.”

“That’s okay. I’ll help you. I’ll be right there with you.”

Those blue eyes flew open again. “What about the Omaha project?”

Yeah, that.

I leaned until my nose brushed hers. She inhaled sharply and then froze.

“We’ll figure it out,” I whispered.

Her eyes slid shut, and I brushed her mouth with mine. The hands that I’d enclosed gripped mine, but she didn’t kiss me back.

She didn’t pull away either.

We had a lot to figure out. But we would. Together.

Sarah

I wondered if he knew what he was doing this time. I forced my eyes open, determined to ask. I didn’t need to. His gaze, soft and deep and completely open, stayed fastened on me.

One hand left mine and gently cradled my face. “I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

Closing my eyes again, I leaned forward, and his lips grazed my forehead.

“You have to be straight with me, Jesse. I feel too much to play games with you.”

His other hand came up to frame my jaw, and he tipped my head back just enough so that I would look at him. “No games.”

But two weeks ago he said this couldn’t happen.

He pulled me forward again, and before I could put voice to my questions, I was lost in his kisses. Thoughts melted away, and I responded to the slow, gentle pressure pulsing warm pleasure over me. I gripped the tails of his button-down shirt, which he’d left untucked, and moved closer, molding myself against him.

“Sarah…” His mouth left mine, and he moved to grip my shoulders.

No.
Déjà vu. I drew in a quivering breath and moved to step away.

With his hands still holding my arms, Jesse caught my retreat and found my lips again. His kiss lingered for a moment, and then he pulled away again. “No games, Sarah.”

I sought his face, trying to understand. What would this relationship look like? I had very limited—and bad—experience. I didn’t know what he expected. Why would he kiss me like that and then push me away?

He raised a hand and traced my mouth with his thumb. “I promise.”

My fears must have been palpable. Jesse tucked my head against his shoulder and wrapped his arms around me. After a moment’s hesitation, I moved to hold him, and he kissed the top of my head.

“I want to get this right, Sapphira.”

I loved when he called me Sapphira.

“Okay.” What did right look like, exactly?

“I need to meet your dad.” He leaned back, capturing my chin. “Proper this time. Can I come with you?”

My smile was genuine, even if hesitation swirled underneath it. Jesse meeting my dad “proper” sounded pretty serious.

It also sounded like a disaster looming in the distance.

Dale

The
boy
stepped through my front door, and I actually heard the fight bell sound in my head.
Round two.

That was all she needed right now—some Romeo following her around like a puppy. And I
thought
he was in Tennessee. That was what Sarah told me.

Lies. More lies.

I bypassed Sarah, who’d barely stepped in the front room, to confront the punk. “What are you doing here?”

“Dad,” Sarah hissed. “Stop it. See if you can act like a grown-up this time.”

I turned to glare at her, noticing uncertainty cross the boy’s face as he glanced her way.

He cleared his throat. “You said real men come to the front door.” His hand stuck out in the space between us. “I was hoping you’d give me a do-over.”

I looked hard at that hand, which showed signs of work. Construction. Sarah said he was a roofer. I didn’t care, and I didn’t want him in my house. I shifted my glare to him.

“You’re not staying here, boy, so you can drop your hand and head back out the door.”

Sarah gripped my sleeve and tugged me her direction. “Dad. Stop.”

“You said he was in Tennessee.”

“I was, sir. I came back up—”

I stepped toward him. “I wasn’t talking to you, boy.”

Sarah inserted herself between us. “He has a name, Dad. This is Jesse Chapman.”

Didn’t care. I grunted, then moved away.

Silence frosted the room, and I felt both their eyes follow me as I moved back to my chair. When I turned to drop onto my seat, I caught the boy’s hand run down my daughter’s back before he squeezed her hand.

Not in my house.
The pit bull in me snarled.

Apparently he couldn’t read my total contempt—which made him an idiot—because he moved forward, farther into
my
house, and opened his mouth again.

“I think maybe we have a misunderstanding, sir.” He made it two steps in front of me and shoved his hands into his pockets like a guilty little punk. “I never treated your daughter with anything but respect.”

He paused, rolling his lips together. A sure sign of dishonesty.

“I think it’s important that I introduce myself—”

“Are you stupid, boy?”

His eyes widened.

“Dad!”

I ignored Sarah, even as she once again put herself in the small space between me and the roofer.

“I said get out.”

“No.” Sarah gripped his hand, staying his leave.

“It’s okay, Sarah.” He turned and rubbed her shoulder, clearly going to fly the scene. The coward. “I’ll find a hotel and come back tomorrow.”

Good luck with that.

“No, I told you—you can stay with my uncle Dan.” Her mouth twisted, and she set her look on me. “He’s not nearly as psycho as my dad.”

She tugged on his hand, moving toward the door. He shot me a look of confusion. How hard could it be to understand that I didn’t want him here and definitely didn’t want him touching my daughter?

I scowled at him and then called to Sarah. “Be home by ten, or don’t bother coming at all.”

She stopped and pivoted to face me. “Ten? It’s nine thirty, Dad, and I’m not fifteen.”

My jaw set hard as I planted an
I mean it
look on her before I shifted my attention back to the TV, bypassing the boy.

“She’ll be back, sir.”

Patronizing. The spineless puppy wouldn’t last. Sarah would be better off without him.

Jesse

Holy control freak, what was that?

“Jess, I’m so sorry.” Sarah’s hand trembled inside of mine.

I pulled in a long breath. Losing it because Sarah’s dad was a spoiled five-year-old in a big man’s body wasn’t going to help her. Tracing her knuckles with my thumb, I pulled her hand up to my lips.

“It’ll work out.”

She gnawed on her bottom lip, refusing to look at me. With my other hand, I tipped her chin so she’d make eye contact—so she would know I wasn’t going to run off because her dad was crazy.

What was with him though? Couldn’t be a good idea for Sarah to stay with Angry Arnold in there.

“I’ll take you to Uncle Dan’s.” She still wouldn’t meet my gaze.

“I can stay in a hotel.”

“Not unless you go to Kearney. There’s only one in town, and it’s usually full.”

Going to Uncle Dan’s held about as much appeal as sleeping in a rat-infested shed—especially if he was anything like his brother. I could stay in my truck. That’d be cozy. Way more safe than going back into the grizzly’s den.

Seriously, was Sarah going to be okay?

“Guess we should have called and given him a head’s-up, huh?”

Sarah shrugged and looked away. “Wouldn’t have mattered. He’d be a bull either way.”

“Sarah, I don’t know if you should—”

“I’ll be fine.” She shifted and looked me in the eye. “I told you, my dad would never hurt me.”

Yeah, well, maybe not physically. Every muscle in my body coiled tight as I looked at this wounded woman. For a moment, taking her away, telling her to never look back, seemed like the right idea.

Except it would chisel hurt deeper into her heart. Running wouldn’t fix that. She’d been trying it for months, and it had only made things worse.

Which left me standing there in the semidarkness wondering what I was supposed to do.

“Bet you wish you hadn’t come.” Emotion wobbled in her voice.

I folded her close and held her. “Not at all. We’ll figure it out, okay? One day at a time.”

She nodded against my shoulder, and I wondered what it would be like just to hold her. Tonight. For the rest of my life.

One day at a time.

“Come on. Let’s see if I do any better with Uncle Dan.”

She breathed a soft chuckle. “Can’t do much worse.”

Right. So we went.

Dan was actually sane. That meant of the three siblings—Darcy, Dan, and Dale—Dale got all the crazy. Lucky me.

Poor Sarah.

“Bed’s old and lumpy, but it’s yours.” Dan nodded toward a half-closed door just off the small front room. “How long you here?”

I looked at Sarah. She was already watching me, clearly wondering the same thing.

“Can you put me to work?”

He grinned. “Always need a grunt.”

I smiled, mostly at Sarah. “I told Grant I’d be back on Monday. Guess that gives us a week to get some work done.”

Maybe after a few days of driving nails with the Sharpes, I’d have a chance to build a better trust with Dale.

If he’d leave the crazy out of it.

Big if.

***

By Friday that
if
had dwindled to
not likely
. Dale avoided me nearly every minute of every day, refused to let me cross the threshold of his house, and had demanded that Sarah be home by ten every night.

I was at the end of my patience. And Sarah had all but quit on him. She brought dinner over to Dan’s every night and stayed until 9:53—giving herself just enough time to get home at exactly ten.

This family dystopia was completely foreign to me. I remembered Friday-night pizza and movies. Games of Scrabble and Pitch and Ticket to Ride. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with the iron curtain Sarah called
Dad
.

The thought of leaving Sarah there on her own the following week left my stomach more uneasy as the days ticked by. Maybe there had never been any stability between them. What if Sarah had only thought that they’d been okay all those years? Did she realize that his rock-hard grip on her wasn’t normal?

What if I was leaving her in a disaster all by herself?

I couldn’t unravel it all, and my time was cutting short. I’d agreed to the Omaha project and had made a commitment to Grant. Starting Monday.

Sarah sat at her uncle’s table, clicking away at her computer. Working. The woman was always working. My chest sort of caved at that thought, because she was more than likely working on drawings for my project, which made me feel guilty.

Instead of setting her free to pursue her passion, I’d heaped a load of responsibility on her. That was swell of me.

Moving from the counter, where I’d landed my paper plate loaded with slices of supreme pizza, I wiped my hands on a napkin and moved to stand behind her. With both hands, I gripped her shoulders and leaned to kiss her head. Soft dark hair tickled against my nose, and I inhaled deeply.

Vanilla.

I drifted lower until my mouth neared her ear. “It has to be your shampoo.”

“What?”

I nipped at the spot just below her ear, and she twitched, shrugging and turning into me. A low laugh rolled from my chest as warmth spilled through me, and I wrapped my arms around her. “You smell good.”

She leaned into me. “Hmm…you weren’t saying such nice things about me two hours ago.”

I moved to kiss the soft part of her neck, which was exposed just above her T-shirt collar. “Come on now. All I said was that you had sawdust in your hair.”

“Because someone stole my hat.”

“It’s filthy.”

She snorted. “Like yours is any less gross.”

Chuckling, I rocked her side to side. A powerful feeling surged over me. Anxiety that I didn’t know I carried drained from my muscles, and a sense of rightness—of security—covered the places that had been tense.

Home. Here, with her, I was home.

“I love you, Sarah.” The words fell off my lips, as natural as breathing.

She turned to look at me, but when our eyes met, there were no questions, only trust. Her head rested against mine, our noses brushing, and she smiled. “I love you too.”

Sarah

I hadn’t seen a lot of chick flicks in my life. Didn’t fit in with the
Bourne
series and
Die Hard
movies that typified our viewing selection growing up. But I do remember a few romances I’d caught here and there, mostly with Darcy.

When the guy told the girl he loved her, there was always this explosive kissing scene. Tense, energetic, and, to be honest, a little awkward for a girl like me.

This moment with Jesse—the heartbeats after he said he loved me? Not that. Yes, my heart hammered, and the surreal feeling of amazement washed over me. But it felt safe and good and wholesome.

It was exactly what I didn’t know I’d hoped for in such a moment, and I knew I’d forever remember the warmth and safety of his arms wrapped around me, the honesty of his simple sentence, and the sense of belonging that all swirled together as our hearts intertwined.

He loved me.

The music I’d come to cherish in the past few weeks hummed softly in the background of my mind.
Jesus, He loves me.

Kind of a strange reaction to romance. But I melted into it. Explosions were bound to die. Energy fizzled. And then what was left?

This beauty. This knowing.

Security.

I am loved.

We stayed there for I didn’t know how long. I knew Jesse felt it too—this steady anchor in what had been a tumultuous sea. I wondered, as the joy of security gripped my heart, if my dad ever knew this kind of love.

Probably not.

I suddenly understood why he was acting the way he was. As that knowledge lifted a little bit of the fog around him, the longing for him to grip this anchor of hope took firm root. My dad needed to meet the Carpenter I’d met.

“Jess, my dad needs to know Jesus.”

He pulled away just enough to look at me, but my seemingly left turn didn’t throw him. He knew exactly where my thoughts had gone, and he smiled.

“It makes all the difference, doesn’t it?”

I nodded. “He won’t listen though. I know he won’t. He hates religion.”

Jesse studied me, and I wondered if he were replaying the conversations he and I had about that topic just a few weeks before.

I wasn’t exactly an open receptor either. Maybe there was more hope than I’d thought.

He shifted and then pushed his fingers into my hair and tucked my head into his chest.

“One day at a time, Sapphira.”

His new mantra, apparently. I made it my own.

Dale

I’d been replaced. Nothing could prepare a dad for that kind of blow. She used to say I was all she needed. Now she was always with him.

She loved him.

Dan said I should be relieved, that she could do a whole lot worse. Those were his words, not mine.

Jesse seemed okay to the unwise. He’d spent the week working with us, and he definitely knew how to swing a hammer. He also spent the week saying things like “praise God” and “I’ve been blessed.”