by Lisa Carter
He hadn’t believed it possible, but God had given him another chance at love. Him, Jake McAbee, who’d messed up so badly with Tiffany. But he knew beyond a shadow of doubt God had meant for him to reunite with his daughter. And part of His plan had included finding Callie.
Callie was a great and wonderful gift to him from the Father. Like no father he’d ever known before, a father worth trusting. A father who’d brought Jake home to Truelove—a place of belonging.
Jake shuffled toward the checkout counter.
He was incredibly grateful and humbled that God had given him Maisie and Callie to love. And thankful that Maisie loved him. He didn’t know if he’d ever get over God’s blessings to him. Much more than he deserved.
One day—he breathed a prayer as he handed money over to the cashier—one day, God willing, Callie would love him, too.
No use in denying his feelings—he was in love with Callie Jackson. Deeply, irrevocably in love. He’d never imagined love could be like this, that he could feel such settled contentment just by being with her. Life with Tiffany during the short months of their marriage had been turbulent, full of anxiety and a raking inadequacy.
Stuffing the receipt in the bag, he stumbled onto the sidewalk. He got only a few feet before he had to stop and blink, allowing his eyes time to adjust to the midafternoon glare of the sun.
Callie was nothing like Tiffany, thank God. She was loyal, honest and good. His heart—like Maisie’s—was safe in her hands. She’d never be disloyal. She’d never betray him. His heart had found its home with Callie.
So he had to do things right this time. No rushing. With everything out in the open, above reproach. Protective of Callie and her good name, he intended to honor her by pursuing their relationship in a God-honoring way.
Vision clearing, he found himself in front of the pawnshop. Staring at a camera with assorted lenses on display behind the plate glass window. It looked like—
Squinting, he pressed his face close to the glass. The specially ordered camera strap. How many custom denim camera straps were there in Truelove, North Carolina? He guessed not many.
Why was Callie’s camera in the pawnshop? She’d taken a few photos Saturday morning before they left for the festival. The pawnshop, like many stores in Truelove, was closed on Sunday.
She had to have brought the camera here today. What was going on? She loved her camera. Why would she have sold it?
His gut clenched. Was this about Nash? Were there medical bills Jake wasn’t aware of? The orchard was coming out of a couple of years of bad harvests. He raked his hand over his head. Why hadn’t they said something?
Jake had money in the bank. From a time when he had nothing and no one to spend it on. He would be glad to help them—not that the Jacksons would ever ask. They wouldn’t have to ask. He’d offer, and not take no for an answer.
They’d taken care of his daughter for over two years. And they were his friends. He swallowed. Perhaps soon they’d become family. He stepped into the pawnshop. He wouldn’t allow Callie to sacrifice her dreams anymore.
Emerging with the reclaimed camera equipment in a tote bag, he was surprised to find Amber waiting outside on the sidewalk.
He lifted the bag. “Did you know about this? What’s going on?”
“I’m so glad I found you.” Amber grabbed his arm. “Nash said you were at the hardware store but...”
He staggered. “Maisie?”
“No, Jake. Maisie’s fine.” Amber chewed her lip. “I can’t believe she actually sold the camera to pay him. Have you heard from Callie lately?”
His heart hammered. “Not since— Why? What’s wrong with Callie? Why does she need money?”
Amber closed her eyes. “So stubborn. Too trusting. I told her.”
“What’s going on? Where is Callie? Tell me,” he grunted.
“She didn’t want you to know, but I made her promise to text me when she left him, but I haven’t heard from her. I’m worried.”
“Him who? Matt?”
“Matt? He’s in Afghanistan. Why would she— Never mind.” She fluttered her hand. “We have to find her before it’s too late.”
His heart skipped a beat.
“She’s done something foolish, Jake.” Amber squeezed his arm. “But I promise you, she did it out of love.”
“Who does she owe money to, Amber?”
“Brandon’s dangerous.” Amber’s large blue eyes sharpened. “And I’m afraid, Jake. I’m really afraid this time she’s in way over her head.”
Chapter Sixteen
The overhanging tree canopy on the heavily rutted drive obliterated what little light remained in the day. Night fell swiftly in the mountains. Already the shadows were long.
Callie rounded a bend and glanced into the rearview mirror. The forest had swallowed her, cutting her off completely from the paved secondary road.
She stopped her car in front of the trailer on the old Morgan farm. Amber’s little house was a palace compared to this. Car parts and rusted automobiles littered the yard.
As she climbed out of the car, a bleak wind whistled from the ridge, chilling Callie to the bone. Clutching the paper sack, she closed the door with a click.
She’d emptied her meager savings account, which, after a few years of local event photography, had just begun to exhibit a healthy balance. But it hadn’t been enough.
After leaving the bank this morning, her next stop had been the pawnshop. Walking away from her camera had felt like severing a limb. Worse. The camera had been her mother’s last gift to her. An affirmation that life still held wonderful promise for Callie. But it had to be done.
Anything to keep Maisie with Jake. To prevent Jake from ever learning that his beloved child wasn’t his. He’d been through enough. If it was within her power, she vowed to spare him from this last final blow.
The trailer door opened with a menacing screech. She flinched. Catching sight of her, Brandon’s long, freckled face widened into a grin, a caricature of a normal person’s smile.
At the top of the steps, he motioned. “Come in, come in.”
Said the spider to the fly.
Callie shivered. “I’ll stay right here, thank you.” She leaned against the car, taking a measure of comfort from the clicking sounds of the cooling engine.
“You have what we discussed?” His eyes narrowed. “What you and Tiff owe me?”
She held out the bag.
Coming off the porch, he crossed over to her and snatched the bag out of her hand. “Is it all here?”
She lifted her chin. “Count it, if you don’t believe me.”
“I will.” Brandon rummaged through the cash. “Tiff’s already stiffed me once.”
Callie’s gaze flitted to the trailer. “Quite the comedown from the condo Tiff described in Atlanta.”
His hands stilled. “Thanks to you, my fortune is about to change.” Raising his head, he took a step closer.
Backing against the hood of her car, she clenched her teeth to prevent them from chattering. She mustn’t let him sense her fear. Like a predator cat—one of the few creatures in the animal kingdom who didn’t hunt only for food—Brandon liked to toy with his victims before devouring them.
“If—if...” She cleared her throat. “If we’re finished here, I’ll be on my way.” She groped behind her for the car handle.
When he lunged, she screamed.
His hand clamping around her wrist, he hauled her away from the car. “I think it’s time to discuss the next payment.”
“Let go of me.” She tried jerking free. “You said this would be the end of it.”
He twisted her arm, and she cried out again. “How much is my silence worth to you, Callie? You told me you’d do anything to keep G.I. Joe from learning the truth. What does anything look like to you?”
She beat
at his torso for all the good it did. She’d made a terrible mistake in coming here. Black dots spiraled before her eyes. She felt herself stumbling as the ground rose to meet her, but she couldn’t lose consciousness, not now.
God, help me. I should’ve never—
When Jake’s truck came barreling out of the woods down the drive, Brandon froze. And she broke away.
The truck—with Amber’s frightened face also inside—screeched to a stop beside her car. Dust swirled. Coughing, Callie hurled herself toward them.
Brandon sprinted after her, but Jake flew out of the truck and threw himself between them. Amber scrambled out, and Callie ran into her arms. Suddenly, the twilight of evening was filled with the sound of sirens and flashing blue lights. Two Truelove police cruisers came to a halt.
The officers piled out, one catching hold of Jake’s raised fist. The other policeman wrestled Brandon to the ground. Brandon writhed, but the officer yanked his hands behind his back and cuffed him.
“Last week we got word from the Georgia State Police that you might be headed this way.” The younger officer smirked. “Been looking for you ever since.”
The older officer eyed Jake. “If I let go of you, you’re going to calm down, right?”
Jake nodded, and the officer dropped his hold on Jake’s forearm. “You okay, Miss Jackson?”
“Yes,” she rasped. The policeman was an old friend of her father’s.
The other officer yanked Brandon upright. “This will be the last clean air you breathe for decades. You’ve got charges against you a mile long and in three states.”
She turned her face away as Brandon yelled curses at them.
“We’ll need to get a statement from all of you.” Her father’s police friend leaned against his cruiser. “Come to the station tomorrow when you get the chance.” That was small-town law enforcement.
“Thank You, God, we got here in time.” Tears ran down Amber’s cheeks. “I called the police on the way here. We were so afraid...”
Callie put her hand on her throat. “You—you told Jake?”
“Only that you were in danger.” Amber wiped her eyes. “If I hadn’t—”
For a second Callie flailed as someone pulled her away from Amber, but she found herself pressed against Jake’s coat. Inhaling his spicy scent, she relaxed.
“Are you all right?” Jake’s voice rumbled. “I’d have never found this place without Amber’s help. Why were you paying this monster?”
“I’m sorry, Callie,” Amber whispered. “I didn’t know what else to do to save you.”
“Callie’s here to buy my child,” Brandon hooted.
Jake’s hands tightened on her upper arms. “What’s he talking about, Callie?” he growled.
Please, God, no. Don’t let him find out this—
“I don’t care whose name is on the birth certificate,” Brandon shouted. “Tiff left Atlanta with my brat in her belly, and that kid’s mine. I’ve got rights.”
Going ramrod stiff, Jake thrust Callie from him. “Maisie’s my little girl...” His gaze darted wildly, desperately. “You told me that Maisie—”
“Callie Jackson’s a liar,” Brandon howled. “Just like Tiff. You’ve been conned, dude.”
“That’s enough out of you, Lloyd.” The officer towed Brandon to the cruiser.
“It’s not true. It can’t be true.” Jake’s hand shot out, capturing Callie’s wrist. She winced.
“Tell me.” His tortured eyes pleaded. “Tell me Maisie is mine. I’ll believe you if you tell me. Please...” His voice broke.
Callie touched his hand, still holding on to her wrist. “Tiff was running from Brandon when she came to the orchard. He wanted her to give up the baby. Even as far gone as Tiff was, she couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t do that.”
He fisted his hands. “I thought Tiffany came to you straight from the base.”
Callie gripped his arm. “Tiff was afraid of him. She never wanted him to get his hands on Maisie. Somehow she already knew she was dying. Tiff refused to discuss Maisie’s father when I asked. But she put your name on the birth certificate. Maisie looks so much like you. And after knowing you, I couldn’t bear for you to be hurt—”
“Maisie’s not my...” Jake squeezed his eyes shut. “Why, then, did she put my name on the birth certificate?”
“I think Tiff was trying to protect Maisie from Brandon.”
His eyes snapped open. “Why did you ever bother to contact me? Why?”
“Tiff had taken money from Brandon. She used it to get to the farm. She knew he’d come after her one day.” Callie took a deep breath. “I think Tiff believed if you were in Maisie’s life she’d be safe from him.”
“And you...you let me believe...” Jake choked.
“I convinced myself—” She took a ragged breath. “From the moment I met you, I wanted you to be Maisie’s father so badly.” She gulped. “So badly.”
“You were buying his silence to cover Tiffany’s lies.” Anger radiated off him in waves.
“In every way that really matters, Jake, you are Maisie’s father. She loves you. I love—” She threaded her fingers into his. “I was trying to protect you.”
He flung off her hand. “You were trying to protect yourself. And he’s right about me.” He jerked his chin toward the police cruiser. “I trusted you. Fool me once, shame on you. But twice?” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Tiffany, now you. Shame on me.”
Pivoting, he stalked toward the truck.
“Wait, Jake.” She caught his shirttail. “It wasn’t like that.” The fabric ripped in her hand.
He threw open the truck door. “Amber, you better catch another ride to town. I have to pack my gear. Won’t take long.”
“Please, let me explain. Let’s do the paternity test. Be sure.” Callie ran to the truck as he slammed the door in her face. “You don’t have to leave the orchard, Jake.”
“Why drag out the inevitable? When has anything ever turned out the way I hoped?” Through the open window, he glared at her. “I think this pretty much guarantees I have to go, Callie.”
She shuddered at the sound of her name between his clenched lips. Like he hated her. And she didn’t blame him.
“Jake, if you only knew how much I wanted Maisie to be yours. How much I wanted everything to be true.”
His lips flattened. “What do you know about truth? Got to say, though, I never saw this coming. Not from you.”
She could hardly bear the expression in his eyes. The hurt, betrayal. “Jake, please forgive me. I never meant—”
“Forgive you?” His breath frosted the air between them. “I believed you were different. I believed—I hoped that we...” Dropping his head, he cranked the ignition. “You are exactly like Tiffany. Forgiveness is for fools.”
Her face covered with her hands, tears ran between her fingers. Callie stepped away as he reversed and made a wide circle in the barren yard. He’d never forgive her. Not for this.
Everything between them was over. She had only herself to blame. She’d lost him forever.
Her heart shattered into a million jagged shards of glass.
Chapter Seventeen
Jake didn’t remember driving back to the orchard. The darkening sky. The small white farmhouses along the road. Everything was a blur.
While in the Helmand Province three years ago, he’d received the letter from Tiffany’s attorney. Notified that she’d filed for divorce, he’d been so hurt and angry.
But he reeled at the enormity of Callie’s betrayal. In one fell swoop, he’d gone from utter happiness to horrific loss. The orchard, Nash and—worst of all—his child.
Parking at the house, he rested his forehead against the steering wheel. Maisie wasn’t his child. She was Tiffany’s daughter with that jailhouse cretin.
As for Callie? The
hurt sliced so deep he could barely draw breath. He hadn’t realized a person could feel such emotional pain and their heart still continue to beat. This was what came from trusting people. From lov—
He threw himself out of the truck. A hard life lesson he’d learned early and forgotten the moment he laid eyes on the brown-eyed, tawny-haired farm girl.
Light shone from the front windows, dappling the gray-planked porch. From inside came the low sound of Nash’s voice and Maisie’s fluted tone. In the years to come, would she ever remember the brief autumn she spent with the man she’d called “my daddy”?
Still unfamiliar with the switchback mountain roads, he couldn’t risk leaving tonight. After tomorrow morning, he’d never see Maisie again. He’d never feel her little arms around his neck. He’d lost his baby.
He’d lost everything. A job he loved. A father figure. Callie. Though, considering the secret she’d kept from him, Callie had probably never been his to start with.
Not in the mood for company, he headed for the darkest corner on the wraparound porch. Trust no one. Love no one. Forgive no one?
His conscience smote him, but he stoked the anger brewing inside his heart. Shimmering stars glittered overhead, and he lifted his face to the night sky. Only silence echoed across the valley.
When headlight beams played across the meadow, signaling Callie’s return, he pushed off the railing and went inside.
Nash waited for him at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m sorry, Jake. I didn’t know.”
She must’ve texted her dad, giving him a heads-up. It meant a lot to know that Nash hadn’t been in on the secret, too.
Jake gripped the newel post. “I can’t stay here. Not after this. You know that, right?”
For the first time since Jake had known him, Nash looked every bit of his fifty-plus years. “I understand, son.”
Jake had waited a lifetime for someone to call him son, but now... At the age of seven, he’d decided crying was a waste of time. He turned his face to the wall, willing himself not to tear up.
