The Rancher's Redemption

by Myra Johnson

  “Erin, meet Skip, the laziest, most good-for-nothing animal on the planet.”

  She glanced up with a disbelieving frown, then returned her attention to the dog. “Hey, boy, aren’t you a sweetheart!”

  Kent chuckled. So horses scared Erin, but big, hairy, slobbery dogs obviously didn’t. Remembering what he wanted to talk to her about, he cleared his throat. “Can you stay for a bit? I’d like to talk more about fixing up my house.”

  Her gaze turned serious as she straightened. “Did you figure out the historical designation requirements?”

  “Working on it. But something else has come up.” Shifting the basket to brace it against his hip, he described Jean Thompson’s request and their follow-up emails. “I’d like to do this for the old guy, but you see what the place looks like.” He swept his hand toward the barn, the house, the yard, then shrugged in frustration.

  Erin cast him a sympathetic smile. “Why do I get the feeling the inside of your house looks just as neglected as everything else?”

  “Because it’d be true.” Kent winced. “I can do the painting and repairs—I’ve certainly put it off long enough—but making everything look nice, like a real home where a family could live...”

  His voice trailed off at the thought that his house might one day be a home again. That someday, perhaps, he might even have a family of his own. Giving a snort, he adjusted his hat. “Anyway, I wanted to show you the picture Mrs. Thompson sent so you could see how everything used to look back when her dad lived here.”

  “Yes, I’d love to see the photo—and the rest of your house, too.” Erin’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. “If I’m going to be your decorator, I’d better know what I’m up against.”

  Chapter Six

  Stepping through Kent’s back door, Erin swallowed a gasp. Yes, a bachelor definitely lived here. Random stacks of mail and newspapers covered half the oblong kitchen table. At the far end, a laptop computer peeked out from beneath even more papers. The only item adorning the drab walls was a Zipp’s Hardware calendar open to April. The photo of the month showed a guy in a baseball cap waving from the seat of a shiny new riding lawn mower.

  An empty coffee mug sat next to what looked to be Kent’s to-do list. Scooting past her, Kent made a space on the table for the basket. He snatched up the mug and rinsed it in the sink, then turned to Erin with a nervous grin. “As you can see, I’m not exactly prepared for company.”

  Smiling, she ran a finger along the windowsill. Hardly a trace of dust. Except for the clutter, Kent appeared to keep things fairly clean, even if he didn’t spend much time on the niceties. “How long since you’ve done anything to the house?”

  “You mean besides move in?”

  Erin cast him a knowing wink. “Let’s see the photo.”

  Riffling through some papers, Kent found the picture and held it out to her. “You’d hardly know it was the same place.”

  Hand to her chest, Erin breathed out a sigh. “It’s beautiful. It’s...”

  “Impossible?” Hopelessness tinged Kent’s tone. “Be honest with me. Because I can email Mrs. Thompson right back and say this visit can’t happen.”

  “No. Don’t.” Emotion tightened Erin’s throat. How could she ever explain how the house in this picture so perfectly matched the pristine white Victorian home she once dreamed might be her own someday? The graceful porches and dormer windows. Myriad flowers adding color and greenery. A strong, tall tree with a rope swing, and a grassy lawn where children could play. “We can do this, Kent. If we get started right away, we can make this happen.”

  They sat down together at the table to study the information provided by the county’s historical preservation commission. While Kent wasn’t required to replicate the original late-nineteenth-century decor, there were stipulations about communicating a sense of the past, even with twenty-first-century modernizations. An inspection would be performed prior to final certification.

  With those criteria in mind, Erin’s excitement about the project grew. She asked for a paper and a pen and jotted notes as they walked from room to room. Afterward, they made a circuit around the exterior and noted any needed repairs. A fresh coat of paint, inside and out, became a top priority. Erin could already envision color schemes—a cheery yellow for the kitchen, cocoa beige for the living room, pastel blues, greens and mauves for the bedrooms. Coordinating window coverings and furniture accents would add an extra touch of country charm.

  Before leaving to pick up Avery from school, Erin provided Kent with a list of tasks to get started on, beginning with scraping and prepping the exterior for painting. “We need to choose the perfect shade of charcoal gray for the shutters and trim to set off the white siding. I’ll come by the hardware store before work tomorrow to look at paint color samples.”

  Kent walked her to her car. “With Avery and your real job, are you sure you have the time to spare?”

  “Are you kidding? Redecorating an entire house like this is a dream come true. It’s going to be fun.” The most fun she’d had in a long time. Climbing in behind the wheel, she beamed a smile. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  But when she glimpsed Kent in the rearview mirror, it wasn’t enthusiasm she saw in his expression. It was more like, What have I gotten myself into?

  Had she been overly enthusiastic? It was Kent’s house after all. Uncertainty carved a hole in the pit of her stomach, a feeling she’d grown far too familiar with during her marriage to Payne. Always second-guessing herself, she could never be sure whether the next thing she said or did would flip his mood like a light switch, sending him into morose self-pity or all-out rage. Everything—everything—about her life with Payne had been about keeping him happy and on an even keel. And all too often she’d failed.

  Behold, I make all things new, God said. Which meant Erin had to stop dwelling on the past. And she had to stop projecting her experience with Payne onto good men like Kent—exactly as she’d tried to help Avery understand.

  * * *

  The next morning, after dropping Avery at school, Erin stopped by Diana’s Donuts before driving over to the hardware store.

  “Coffee and apple fritters for two, coming up,” Diana said with a smirk as she filled Erin’s order. “Sharing with anyone special?”

  Erin slid some bills across the counter. “The extra is for Kent. I’m helping him with a project—that’s all.”

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t tease you.” With an understanding smile, Diana handed Erin her change. “I know exactly how it feels to be the focus of the entire town’s matchmaking attempts.”

  “Believe me, I’m far from ready to get involved with anyone. Right now, I’m all about taking care of my daughter and trying to move on with my life.” Erin tucked a few extra napkins into the cardboard tray holding her coffees and said goodbye.

  A few minutes later, she parked in front of Zipp’s Hardware. Balancing the coffee tray in one hand and tucking her planning notebook under her other arm, she used her hip to nudge open the entrance door.

  Expecting to find Kent in his usual spot up front, she was surprised to see an older man with sparse gray hair and a bushy mustache.

  Barely glancing up from some kind of catalog spread open on the counter, the man offered a brusque “He’p ya, ma’am?”

  She edged close enough to read the man’s name tag: Ben Zipp. Must be the store owner. “I was looking for Kent.”

  “In the back.” He tipped his head in the general direction.

  She took the gesture as permission to find her own way and started down the nearest aisle. Approaching a short hallway leading to some offices, she heard voices, one of them definitely Kent’s.

  “You need to think long and hard about this, Elijah,” Kent was saying. “Enlistment isn’t something you want to rush into.”

  “I have thought about it, and college doesn’t make sense for me. I ca
n get what education I need in the service.” The speaker’s Texas twang gave a determined lilt to his tone. “Anyway, I want to serve my country.”

  “You really want to take a chance you’ll face combat?” Kent’s voice again, laced with plaintive intensity. “That you might see your best buddies dead on the battlefield?”

  “I get that. I’m ready.”

  Several moments of silence followed. Then, “Son, you will never be ready.”

  The vehemence behind Kent’s words made Erin tremble and turn away. The coffee tray tipped, and she sucked in a noisy breath. As she steadied the tray, boots clomped down the hall.

  “Erin?”

  She spun around, this time losing her notebook. The coffee tray would have hit the floor, too, if Kent hadn’t grabbed it. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop—”

  “It’s okay.” Even with the tension lines etching the corners of his mouth, he spoke calmly, seeming more concerned about her than whatever was going on in the office. “Why don’t you wait for me over in the paint department? Aisle three. There’s a counter and bar stools where we can sit and look at samples.”

  “If this is a bad time, we can do this another day.”

  Kent gently placed the coffee tray back in her hands, then stooped to retrieve her notebook. “It’s okay, I said. I’ll be there in a sec.”

  Erin found the counter midway along aisle three and shakily set down the cardboard tray. Sliding onto a bar stool, she mentally replayed the discussion she’d overheard. The Austins had mentioned he’d served in the military, and his harshness in replying to the young man suggested his battlefield experiences had left scars—if not physically, then most certainly emotionally. Could those experiences explain why he’d turned his back on God?

  She could certainly identify with such wounds of the spirit, but at least she still had her faith. Father, she prayed, hands folded and head bent, please heal Kent from his past, just as I’ve asked You to heal me. Help us both to live in full assurance of Your eternal love and—

  Footsteps approaching interrupted her prayer. She looked up as Kent drew near, a sadly curious frown skewing his lips. He scooted onto the stool beside her and softly cleared his throat. “Caught you praying for me, didn’t I?”

  She handed him a coffee and hoped it had stayed hot. “How did you know?”

  “Because that’s who you are.” He took a tentative sip. “How do you do it anyway?”

  “Do what—pray?” She tore open the pastry bag and set each of the glazed fritters on a napkin. “I can’t not pray. As weak and helpless as I feel sometimes, leaning on God is all I can do to keep going.”

  Biting into his fritter, Kent seemed to chew on her words as much as he did the pastry, but he said nothing more on the subject, and Erin wouldn’t pressure him. She’d have to trust God to bring Kent around in His own good time.

  After a few minutes savoring their coffee and fritters, Kent suggested they take a look at some paint colors. Joining him in front of a display of exterior color samples, Erin selected several cards with shades ranging from pearly gray to the deepest charcoal.

  “You shouldn’t go too light or too dark,” she said, and zeroed in on a color labeled Stormy Night. “What do you think of this one?”

  “The blue undertones brighten it up.” He held the sample against a white surface. “Nice contrast. I like it.”

  Erin chuckled. “Look at you getting all artsy.”

  “I know how to appreciate beauty.” He looked straight at her, his deep brown eyes smoldering into their own interesting shade of gray.

  Pulse skittering, Erin moved farther along the display. “Should we look at interior colors now?”

  Just a friend helping a friend, she chided herself. This was not the time to let things get complicated.

  * * *

  Don’t complicate things. Kent drew a slow, silent breath as Erin chose an assortment of interior paint color cards. Yeah, he was fighting a major attraction toward her, but that little scene with Elijah, the store’s nineteen-year-old stock boy, was an unwelcome reminder that he still had issues to work through. Bad enough he could barely keep it together while advising an eager kid bent on serving his country. Add the fact that he and Erin remained so far apart in their faith lives, and he saw little hope for anything between them beyond friendship.

  Except...he couldn’t shake the feeling that Erin and her daughter had come into his life for a reason. And if there was a reason, then there had to be a Someone to whom that reason belonged. And if there was a Someone, it meant God might actually care about Kent Ritter.

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but for the first time in a long time, it sparked hope.

  Erin tapped the stack of color samples. “This should be enough for starters. I need to get to the gift shop, but can I get back to you with more ideas in a few days?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll start on the exterior prep this afternoon.” Walking Erin to the front, Kent considered asking Elijah if he’d be interested in putting in a few hours with him to earn a little extra money. Might be a way to smooth things over—so long as Kent scaled back the whole forget-the-service-and-stay-in-school vibe.

  At the exit, Erin paused. “Kent, I really appreciate being asked to help you with this project. It means a lot.” A tentative smile teased the corners of her mouth. “More than you know.”

  Her expression alone told him how much it meant, and if he ever met up with the creep of an ex-husband who’d so badly damaged her self-confidence, the guy had better run the other way.

  He thanked her for the coffee and fritter, then watched with a peculiar ache in his belly as she got in her car and drove out of the parking lot.

  When he stepped back inside, Ben Zipp eyed him from beneath bushy white brows. “Who’s the pretty lady?”

  “Just a new friend. She’s helping me with ideas for fixing up my house.”

  “’Bout time. And I’m not talking about fixing up your house,” Ben harrumphed. “Although I’m sad to say it’s about time for that, too. How long you been livin’ in that run-down old shack anyway?”

  “Long enough to know I don’t need you butting into my business.” Good thing Kent knew his boss well enough not to worry about getting fired for such a remark. Gruff as Ben Zipp might come across, he had a Texas-size heart matched by a wry sense of humor.

  Ben came from behind the checkout counter to straighten a rack of do-it-yourself pamphlets. “You sure seem set on buttin’ into Elijah’s business about joining the service.”

  “That’s different. He’s a kid with no idea what he’d be getting himself into.”

  Ben skewered Kent with a one-eyed glare. “If somebody’d said the same to you back when you were ready to enlist, would you have listened?”

  “No,” he murmured, dropping his chin. “Fact is, my dad tried his best to talk me out of joining the navy. He hoped I’d take an interest in working at his auto dealership. But I thought I knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t selling cars.”

  “So are you saying now you regret your choice? In hindsight, would you have done anything differently?”

  Kent closed his eyes briefly. “Probably not.”

  “And are you proud of your service to your country?”

  “Of course I am.” Knowing he’d never win this argument, Kent heaved a resigned sigh. “I just hate the thought of another kid coming home from war with memories like the ones I live with day and night.” He looked away, his voice fading. “Or not coming home at all.”

  “Well, that’s not up to you, is it?” Ben sank a hand deep onto Kent’s shoulder. “The good book says there’s a time for everything. A time to be born, a time to die. A time for war, a time for peace. But it’s all in God’s hands, and He is trustworthy.”

  Before Kent could frame a polite response, which at the moment seemed beyond his capabilit
ies, Elijah strode over. “Sorry to interrupt.” The boy looked uneasily between Kent and Ben. “What did you want me to do with that shipment of garden tools?”

  “Be right with you,” Ben said, then turned to Kent. “Elijah and I’ve got the store covered this morning. Seems like you’ve got plenty of your own stuff to tend to.”

  Mouth firm, Kent nodded. He was pretty sure Ben wasn’t referring to only the home-improvement project. More likely a Kent-improvement project. That, unfortunately, would require quite a bit more than a morning off.

  After another trip down the paint aisle to select a few supplies, Kent rang up his own purchases and then headed out to his truck. Figuring he’d be using a whole different set of muscles on this paint job, he decided to stop at the drugstore on his way through town and pick up a supersize bottle of ibuprofen.

  Purchase in hand, he started back to his truck, only to stop short beneath the purple awning over Wanda’s Wonders. The window display showcased a variety of gift items and home decor, including custom-designed jewelry, handmade soaps and lotions, artsy wooden signs, frilly lampshades, decorative wreaths and artificial flower arrangements.

  Kent didn’t have to wonder why he’d never noticed the shop before. How many times had he ever been in the market for fancy soaps or cute signs? He also didn’t need to ask why the store suddenly blipped loud and clear on his mental radar. This was the shop where Erin worked, and the mere thought of catching a glimpse of her sent his heart racing.

  Hesitating for only a moment, he pushed open the shop door. A chime sounded as he entered, and a large woman with a bun piled high atop her head came forward to greet him.

  “Howdy, and welcome to Wanda’s Wonders!” A flowery, flowing skirt skimmed the woman’s sandals. “Looking for something special for a special someone?”

  “Actually, I, uh... I mean, a friend of mine works here, and I wanted to, uh...”

  Erin stepped out from behind a curtain near the back. “Kent? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”