The Carpenter's Daughter (5 page)

People didn’t do that. Not sane people.

The steady, deep voice of the pastor reached me again. “Are you captivated by the glory of God? Perhaps you’ve not considered it…”

Not once. Ever.

I couldn’t move.

Nothing in life mattered that much to me. Hearing the utter conviction in the preacher’s voice made me feel vacant. Once again the melancholy pressed in. It wasn’t just loneliness. Suddenly, in light of such passionate lives, mine lost all purpose.

The emptiness felt like drowning. We couldn’t leave the church fast enough.

Darcy rode with me in my truck after church. I didn’t try to chat. My thoughts kept dancing around the amount of purpose that the preacher’s words had drained from my existence.

“What’s on your mind?” Darcy interrupted my clumsy, whirling thoughts.

I wasn’t ready for a conversation about things that wouldn’t level in my head.

“The…the drive back,” I blurted. “Figuring out the best way to get home.”

“Really?” She laughed softly. “So, is it I-80 or…I-80?”

Yeah, she bought that. My transparency made me feel like I was scaling some wobbly rafters. Naked. My stomach quivered.

That was dumb. I wasn’t a little girl. I was a fully functional, productive twenty-one-year-old woman.

I glanced into the rearview mirror and then did a double take. Whoa. Me?

Darcy had found Charlotte after Snappy-Sally finished with my hair yesterday, and Charlotte showed me some makeup tricks. Simple ones, because I needed baby steps. A smudge of eyeliner, a wisp of black mascara, and light lip gloss. I tried them this morning, and the woman in the mirror shocked me.

I couldn’t resist a grin. I hadn’t worn the dress we’d bought—that was going too far—but the black silk tank, studded with sterling bling along the neckline, paired with dark jeans, looked pretty darn good, if I did say so myself. Pleasure pulled my smile wider. I actually felt pretty.

For today. A momentary exit from my carpenter-girl self. Tomorrow…back to torn jeans and worn T-shirts.

What if I didn’t go back to that life?

Not possible. Building was what I knew.

I took the last turn down the quiet street to Darcy’s house. We passed three driveways on the left, and then we pulled up to her house.

Darcy unsnapped her seat belt and then sat back. “You know you can talk to me, Sarah.”

Naked again. But who else was I going to talk to? I drew a breath, hoping I wasn’t going to regret my honesty.

“I need direction, Dars.” I shifted my eyes from the windshield to her. “Not the religious stuff. I need something tangible. I go to work with Dad, come home, and make something that passes for supper, and then drop into my bed. That’s my life. But I don’t know who I am, or if I’m who I want to be. I want…”

What did I want?

Continuing to stare out the windshield, a single word popped out of my mouth. “Purpose.”

Yeah. That was it. Purpose to fill the void.

After a tortuous silence, Darcy drew in air as if she were about to plunge into deep waters. “Maybe if you get outside of yourself.”

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

Darcy met my eyes with hesitation written in her expression. “Everything you do is about you. Work. Home. There’s nothing in your life that makes you see beyond yourself. Perhaps you need to be useful to someone who has no way to pay you with anything more than gratitude.”

Usefulness. To matter to someone else without being paid for it. Could work.

“Sarah.” Darcy reached for my arm, her voice a warning. “I know you don’t understand, but I have to tell you even usefulness by itself will not satisfy your soul. It’s a good place to start, but I don’t think that you’ll find the contentment you’re searching for.”

“I want purpose.” Resolution solidified in my mind. “That’s all.”

I reached for the door before Darcy could go into the Jesus stuff. Didn’t need Him.

I’d do this on my own.

Dale

Trouble.

I scowled at the computer screen, counting the calendar dates. The Kearney account was huge, and we couldn’t let a scheduling conflict set us back. My reputation was built on met completion dates and accurate bids. This job could open several doors for Sharpe Contracting, and with the economic climate teetering, I had every intention of ensuring business through the imminent trough. Something needed to give.

I hovered the cursor over the weekend blocked out in blue—Dan’s color. A bubble appeared over the blocks
Homes For Hope, Valentine
. He did that a few times a year, volunteered for Homes For Hope. I appreciated it too. Made the whole business look good and put our name out there. But this weekend wasn’t going to work.

“Dan, I need you this week. The whole week.”

“Come again?” Dan looked up from his laptop.

“I need you in Kearney. I know you told Mack you’d be in Valentine, but I need you on our site.”

Dan stared at me, none too pleased. Sarah looked up from her CAD drawings, silent, as the office suddenly felt tight. Dan wasn’t angry yet, but he was frustrated, which wasn’t a long trip from mad. We Sharpes tended to have a way of standing our ground. Well, Dan and I did. Sarah usually held her peace. I’d always thought that was a good thing, until last week.

Never mind. One problem at a time.

“Mack needs a master, Dale.” Dan leveled his gaze on me. This could get hot. “I can’t let one guy down to save face for another.”

Thing was, Dan was not my employee. He was my partner. I managed the jobs, ran the business, but he had as much invested in this as I did. I didn’t have much of a right to bully him. But there was no way around this. I couldn’t afford to
not
have him on site.

“I know.” I worked at diplomacy. Not a strong point with me. “But I’ve got to keep this job on track, and the rain last week set us back. The foundation will be ready, and we’ve gotta get that shell up. I need you there.”

Dan’s thick eyebrows pulled in. He didn’t flinch, which meant he wasn’t moving on this. “I’ve got commitments too, Dale. Commitments that define my reputation, not just Sharpe Contracting. You knew this was coming.”

I leaned forward, matching his challenge. “I didn’t know the rain would set us back.” So much for diplomacy. “This is the job. It is what it is. I need you next week, and that’s that.”

Dan rose from his chair. His temper was like the simmering of a pot. It came slow and subtle before it exploded into a full-on boil.

“What if I go?”

My attention snapped to Sarah. She’d witnessed plenty of these office standoffs. Seen Dan and me go nose to nose countless times over the years. Never once had she interfered.

Her blue eyes looked up from under the brim of her hat, timid and yet determined. “I can go to the Homes For Hope in Uncle Dan’s place.”

Something strange was happening here.

“I need you there too, Sarah.” End of discussion. Heartburn sizzled in my chest. I wanted better for her. She deserved it. But I needed her.

“I have the drawings right in front of me.”

She was arguing?

“I can build the interior walls in the shop this weekend, and you can take them on the flatbed when you leave Thursday. As long as you don’t change anything last minute, it should be nothing for you to install them without me.”

I stared. She never argued. Never complained. Never left me for some unknown job with a group of strangers. What had that cat-woman ignited in my daughter?

Dan cleared his throat. “I only promised Mack Friday and Saturday, Dale.” I turned my attention to him and scowled. He persisted anyway. “Sarah could meet us in Kearney on Sunday and pick up from there. It’d only be the difference of two days—and the panel idea will work.”

Sarah continued to look at me. This was way outside of her character. The whole thing was a massive puzzle. Wasn’t the whole rebellion-independence thing supposed to have passed by now?

She wasn’t being rebellious. She wasn’t really asserting her independence either. She was searching. Her eyes held me, uncertain and yet pleading. What was she looking for?

“You’ve got three days to get those walls ready.” I barked more than I meant to.

She dropped her gaze, hiding beneath the brim of her hat.

The ball of indigestion grew in my middle. I moved to her desk and dropped my hand on her shoulder, forcing a softer tone. “That should be an interesting challenge.”

Sarah settled back and pushed out half a grin. The smile didn’t settle in her eyes. She was terrified. I could hear her thoughts as clear as if she’d called them out.
What was she getting herself into
?

Sarah

What was I thinking, telling Dad and Uncle Dan I’d go? I’d gone loopy over the past few weeks. Shopping for
dresses
? Buying makeup? And now volunteering to travel by myself to a place I’d never been, working with a bunch of guys I didn’t know?

Get outside of myself, that was what Darcy said. This was what I got for asking. I was nearing Valentine, ending what had been an agonizingly long four-hour drive, and seriously considered making a U-turn to head back south. This whole scenario was not me.

My stomach twisted like it’d been caught in my power drill. Going home would have been the best option, but my truck kept traveling the onward path. When I hit Highway 20, I took a left, and in less than an hour I was pulling into a town of three thousand people. Following the directions, I took a right and saw the job site, buzzing with people, mostly guys already sweating from work.

Peachy. Uncle Dan told me if I showed up around ten, I should be fine, but the frame was already up. Why exactly had this Mack person needed a framer? Somewhere a message got miffed. Which was what I was as I pulled up to the house-in-progress.

I tugged the bill of my hat until the band sat close to my eyebrows as I stepped out of my vehicle. The late-May sun beat warmth onto my skin, bordering on hot. Normal. Except that day I resented it. I was already hot.

Appraising the situation, I stopped short of the activity. My directions were to check in with Mack. Big guy, probably sporting short gray whiskers, and walked with a mild limp. Huh. Most of the older guys in construction that I knew walked with a hitch. Bad knees or back—or both, the lot of them.

Dan also said that usually Homes For Hope workers were volunteers, often of the inexperienced variety. Easy to spot. They were the ones wearing clean shoes that belonged on a track or basketball court, and their jeans were all in one piece. No patches, no holes. Many of them held hammers by the necks, gripping them like they thought strangling the things would help drive nails faster.

I picked out those I was pretty sure would be Homes For Hope’s masters. Supposedly there were usually four or five on site, counting Mack.

The middle-aged guy with a tool belt wrapped around his jeans could have been a master. He pointed here and there, up and down, as different volunteers approached him. I couldn’t tell for sure though. He directed traffic more than anything.

The roofer, for sure that guy was a master. He squirreled around the nearly covered rafters, pulling sheeting like he’d been doing the job since he was two. He looked familiar, but even as I filed through the jobs Sharpe Contracting had done over the last year, and the crews I’d met in the process, I couldn’t place him.

And the third—my target. Big guy dressed in a gray T-shirt and jeans with about five patches gathered in the general knee area. His hard face sported a rough, silver beard, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. He strode the site like a man on a mission. Had to be Mack.

I gulped in air, willing confidence into my posture. It wasn’t like this should be a big deal, not like going to church. I belonged there. This was me. I thought.

Making my feet move, I rehearsed in my head what I would say when I reached him.
Mr. Mack, I’m Sarah Sharpe, Dan Sharpe’s niece.
How pathetic. Who would have to practice a thing like that?

Big guy looked right at me, not smiling, as I walked nearer. “You here to help?”

“Yes, sir.” I swallowed. “I’m—”

“Good. Grab a broom.” He pointed toward the northwest corner of the framed house. “I need the floor cleared. My framer’s due soon, and I need to make sure the rest of the interior walls can be set without delay.”

I stood with a dry mouth and a tied-up tongue.

He scowled “You gonna work?”

“Yes, sir.” I licked my lips.
I’m Sarah Sharpe, your framer…
My voice wouldn’t cooperate. Oh well. I could sweep up the debris, then clear up this misunderstanding. Not my first dance with a broom.

I spied a push broom and got after it. Sweeping the plywood subfloor gave me a chance to examine the build. A few closets, some work in the kitchen, and then the bones would be complete. My purpose here didn’t seem very purposeful at all.

Chalk one up for misdirection.
Note this: don’t ask Darcy for any more life pointers.

I pushed around the broom for sixty-three minutes, making sure my menial task was completed thoroughly, and then looked around for the guy I assumed was Mack. He’d disappeared. Gone.

Great. What was I supposed to do next?

Volunteers moved to the backyard area. I followed at a distance, searching faces for the one person I’d had verbal contact with. Still AWOL. I glanced to my truck. Leaving seemed like a real option. I wasn’t needed. Wouldn’t be missed.

I looked back to the gathering, the assembly making sense now that I saw food being set out on the slapped-together tables. Lunch. I’d been around for a little more than an hour, and it was already lunchtime. I wasn’t hungry. Wasn’t tired. And I wasn’t sure what I’d do in a crowd of twenty strangers.

My steps veered to the north end of the structure, where a tiny scrap of shade would shelter me from the cloudless sky. An aluminum ladder leaned against the house, extending all the way up to the roof. I suddenly wondered about the other master, the roofer. Pretty young to be in this gig—volunteering his expertise in Nowhere, Nebraska, on a weekday. Probably a local. Even at that, a generous move. The guy’s gotta make a living.

I’d seen him before. I knew it. I couldn’t place it, but I knew we’d met.

Heat raced over my body. Weird.

I took my hat off and let the moving air cool my sweaty scalp as I peeked around the corner of the house to the backyard. Laughter punctuated the buzz of several conversations while people milled between the food table and each other.

How was it that everyone else on the planet could slide into a crowd like a fish into a pond? If that was the case, I must be a bird. An ugly one, like those turkey vultures that circle around the railyard back home.

Peachy. On that happy note, I set a foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. If I wasn’t going to frame and wasn’t going to eat, I might as well be useful somewhere else.

The roof was lonely and waiting for coverage. Finally, a place where I’d fit and a job that met my skills.

Jesse

The hiss-pop-pop of a roofing gun gradually gained my attention as it echoed from the roof. I was not on the roof, and that was
my
gun. None of the local volunteers had brought one.

I bumped Mack’s shoulder with my fist, making him delay the bite of sandwich his mouth had been set on. “Did you send someone up?”

Mack looked up to the roof. No one was visible from our side of the gable. “No.” Another pull echoed from above. Mack’s brows scrunched. “Huh.”

I set my sandwich on a paper plate and left the remains of my lunch on the table created from sawhorses and plywood. Mack wasn’t far behind, but I didn’t expect he’d follow me when I climbed the aluminum ladder.

I headed to the peak, mostly curious, but a little concerned for the overachiever’s safety. Roofing guns weren’t toys. Plus, to be honest, it was my gun, man. Rules of the job site: start when it’s cool, always clean up your mess, and never, ever mess with another man’s power tools.

Cresting the rise, I stopped short.
Whoa.
A woman rhythmically slapped down shingles and nailed them in place. Work code aside, I watched in fascination. She didn’t miss a beat as she lined the roofing felt with straight, even rows of dog-eared shingles. Clearly she knew what she was doing.

“Who is she?”

I jumped a little. Hadn’t heard him sneak behind me
.
“What are you doing up here?” I pried my eyes from this roofing wonder-woman. “You’ll be in for that surgery if you’re not careful.”

“Shut up. We’re not talking about that.” Mack crossed his arms. “We’re talking about her. Who is she?”

“You’re the coordinator. You tell me.”

“I’ve had hundreds of volunteers work for me. Don’t know.” He returned my challenge with a raised brow. “You’re in charge up here, so you’re supposed to know who’s doing what. Especially with your gun.”

Propping my hands on my hips, I grunted. “You’d better get off the roof before you hurt yourself, old man. I’ve got this.”

“Set ’er straight.” Mack smacked my shoulder and grinned.

As if I’d set anyone straight. Not the way Mack meant it. Dad always said I was too nice to be a foreman. I wasn’t sure that was the truth—I hated conflict, was all. Not built for the stern, barking roll of supervisor. Course, Dad wasn’t either. He’d agonized when he had to let a man go, and when it came to the few disagreements he’d encountered with a client, he’d rather eat a loss than damage a relationship.

Made him a dang good boss. Which was why Shane stuck with him for forever.

Made him a good dad too. But I wasn’t going any further with that reverie. I had a gun-snatching girl to set straight. According to Mack.

I pulled in a long breath, as if filling my lungs would lend some kind of firmness to my lack. The woman looked up, and I caught sapphire eyes peeking beneath her faded cap. I couldn’t stop my smile. I knew those eyes.

Sapphira
.

I chuckled as I moved forward.

She snatched the protective earphones off her head and slowly laid down my gun.

I squatted. “Have I been replaced?”

“I don’t know.” Her eyes darted from me to the roof. The mild pink on her cheeks stood out clearly against the nearly black hair ruffling from the sides of her hat. “I’m not in charge around here.”

I laughed. “Well, you obviously know what you’re doing, although I have to tell you, I rarely let anyone touch my roofing gun.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The pink darkened to red. “I like to stay busy, and I don’t know anyone down there.” Her head nodded in the direction of the crowd enjoying lunch on solid ground.

“Don’t worry about it.” I kept grinning. Like an idiot. Man, those eyes… “Looks like you’ve saved me a half-hour’s worth of work tonight.” I caught a hint of a smile tugging on her lips before she ducked her head.

“Here.” She nodded to the nailer sitting between us, keeping her head low. “Sorry.”

I wanted to reach out to lift her chin. That’d be awkward.

“Really, it’s fine. I appreciate the help.” I dropped to my backside, hoping she’d flash those gems my way again. “Are you from around here?”

“No.” Not looking up, she tucked her hands close to her middle as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m from Minden.”

I’d been through there a couple of times. Big collection of pioneer stuff in a museum, as I recalled. Didn’t matter. I wasn’t fishing for an address. A name would do. And maybe a smile aimed my way.

I tried a little harder. “Are you a master?”

Her head came up, but only enough for me to see a timid grin trying to peek from beneath the bill of her hat. “I am, but roofing isn’t really my thing.”

Not her thing? I examined her work. Straight lines, perfectly spaced nails, and the area she covered in such a short amount of time could only be the product of experience. Lots of experience. “What
is
your thing?”

“Framing.”

I jolted straight. Mack had been whining before lunch that his master framer had been a no-show. Apparently he hadn’t looked hard enough. “What’s your name?”

“Sarah Sharpe.”

Enough of the shy stuff. I needed to see those eyes.

“Sarah Sharpe.” I extended my hand toward her. Certainly she wouldn’t avoid a direct greeting. “I’m Jesse Chapman.”

She looked up. Boom. Yep, they were really that blue. Wow.

Staring was pretty schoolboy, but I couldn’t help it. Her eyes had resurfaced in my mind all week. Now here she sat, in the flesh, and looking…uncertain.

Interesting. A woman with enough confidence to scale a ladder and attack a roof all on her own shouldn’t look terrified to say hello. Then again, that day at Subway, she’d trembled under my hand. I had thought because I’d scared the dickens out of her, running into her like that, but…

Maybe I needed to get to know this blue-eyed carpenter princess.

“I think you’ve been overlooked.” I smiled, hoping it would be enough to keep her attention from falling back to her hands. “Was Mack expecting you?”

Her shoulders relaxed and—hallelujah!—she kept her eyes on mine. “I think so. My uncle’s worked with him, but he’s caught up in a project right now. I came in his place. I thought he called ahead to let Homes For Hope know.”

I stood and held a hand to her. Sarah shielded her eyes with her hand and stared at my hand.

“Come on.” I felt like I was coaxing a kitten from a tree. “We’ll go clear this up.”

She tucked her chin down, and I thought for a moment that she’d tell me to take a hike. Her head came back up, though, and her grip slid into mine.

After she stood, she snapped her hand to her side and cleared her throat. “I take it you’re the master roofer.”