Restoring Her Faith. Jennifer Slattery

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      Because of William’s request? Made sense. Dad had never been one to ask for help, never one to admit he needed it. Now he needed help with everything. With one quick statement, his three-year-old-grandson had called attention to this fact.

      The man’s entire life had shifted with one fall.

      A fall that wouldn’t have happened had Drake stayed to help on the ranch that day.

      “How about you help Meemaw clean up,” Drake said.

      “But I strong.” His tiny fingers gripped the smooth metal bars.

      “I know you are.” He gently pried the child’s hands free. “Which is why Meemaw needs you.” He glanced back to find Faith watching him, and a strange sensation heightened his senses.

      Clearing his throat, he averted his gaze. Trevor, older by two and a half years, hung from a low-hanging branch about a hundred feet away. “Oh. Look what your brother’s doing.”

      William’s haloed head jerked in that direction, and his face lit up. In a flash, he was off, his chubby little arms pumping.

      Drake chuckled. That boy was about as distractible as a puppy chasing a pack of baby chicks.

      He headed toward his mom’s SUV, offered one of the church members a passing nod and maneuvered his dad around a two-inch hole. “You get to talk to anyone?”

      Dad hitched a shoulder up.

      “I know Mom’s glad you came. You need to get out more.”

      “Everyone knows what I need now?”

      Ouch. “All’s I’m saying is folks are glad to see you.”

      No response. These outings always put him in a mood. His doctor said to expect anger, and Drake got that. It had to smart something awful to lose the use of one’s legs. But Dad wasn’t the only one going through a major life change. He wasn’t the only one mourning.

      Drake looked at his mom, glad to see her surrounded by a group of ladies. He’d connect with her tomorrow to check how she was faring and what appointments Dad had this week that she might need help with.

      He stopped as two barefoot boys ran in front of them, one of them clutching a football to his chest. “I have a feeling some of the church ladies will be bringing goodies to the work site tomorrow. I’ll save you some.”

      Dad gave a slight nod. Better than a grunt.

      “I was thinking of taking the boys fishing this weekend. Want to come?”

      No response. Lord, help me out here. How can I pull him out of this funk?

      When they reached his mom’s SUV, one of Drake’s buddies hurried to meet them. He waited for Drake to move Dad’s footrests out of the way, then quietly stepped in. Mimicking Drake, he cupped a hand under Dad’s left thigh, and with his other, gripped his forearm without a word. Asking would’ve only wounded Dad’s pride.

      Would it always be this way?

      They lifted him in, then Drake secured his seat belt and shot him a smile. Receiving a frown in return, Drake closed the door with a suppressed sigh.

      How did a person adapt to something like this? Especially a rancher who’d been handling bulls, mending fences and barns, and whatever else, for as long as Drake could remember? The man loved being outside. Loved doing.

      Took pride in his role as protector and provider.

      Drake rounded the vehicle to the driver’s side to get the air-conditioning going. “Want the radio on while you wait for Mom?” He fiddled with the dial.

      “Don’t matter.”

      “All right then.” He turned to Rural Radio so his dad could catch up on cattle prices—or would that stress him out? Remind him of the threat of losing the ranch? Drake flipped to the local country-and-western station and closed the door.

      He released a heavy breath and scrubbed a hand over his face.

      Bryce, one of his best friends since middle school, strolled over. “How’re you holding up?”

      He didn’t answer right away. “We’ll be all right.”

      “Christa is worried about your momma. Said she’s hardly left the ranch since the accident.”

      “She’s got to watch Dad.” It was just like Bryce’s wife to feel concerned, and likely a strong pull to help. That woman was one of the most caring people Drake knew.

      “Figured as much. But...” He popped a few of his knuckles. “Maybe some of the Bible study gals could help out some. Take turns sitting with him.”

      Drake snorted. “That’ll go over real well.” He shot his dad a sideways glance.

      “Yeah, well, it’s not just about him, is it?” Bryce’s gaze intensified.

      Drake gave a quick nod and leaned back against the vehicle. “I’ll talk to Mom and Elizabeth.”

      “Good enough. So...that girl, the one whose car you totaled—”

      “I didn’t total it.”

      “Pretty near. Not the smartest way to snag a woman, but I’m glad to know you’re not completely blind.”

      “What’re you talking about?”

      “I see the way you look at her.”

      “I’m not interested in dating anyone, let alone a city girl. The boys have had enough to deal with.”

      “It’s been three years. Your youngest doesn’t even remember Lydia.”

      Drake winced and clenched his teeth to keep from snapping.

      Bryce raised his hands, palms out. “Sorry. I didn’t mean... That was stupid.”

      A tense silence stretched between them. “Regardless, she won’t be here for long. And as far as I’m concerned she’s not supposed to be here at all.” Drake relayed all he knew about her, which wasn’t much, and everything he remembered from the last church restoration planning meeting.

      “I caught a look at the bids.” Drake shoved a hand in his pocket. “Before the crew made their decision. She’s an artist from some gallery. From what I could tell, she hasn’t done more than a handful of stained glass restorations, if that.”

      “She can’t be too inept. She got the contract, didn’t she?”

      “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 СКАЧАТЬ