A Time for Faith
A Single Dad Christian Romance
Potter’s House Books (Three) Book 6
By Leah J. Busboom
Copyright © 2021 Leah J Busboom
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are only used for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
Cover design by Delia Latham
Published by LBRB Consulting, LLC
First edition 2021
Published in the United States of America
Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™
Dedication
To all of you who enjoy reading faith-based romance. May this story uplift your heart.
To my amazing husband—I couldn’t do this without your love and support.
Now faith is confidence in what we hope for
and assurance about what we do not see. (Hebrews 11:1)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Note to Readers
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter One
Noah
THIS BRISK OCTOBER DAY STARTS off just like any other. The hot Colorado summer has quickly turned into autumn, the aspen trees resplendent as they dot the mountains in patches of gold. I take time for only a brief glance at God’s stunning handiwork, then dash into work.
As usual, I’m one of the first people in the office. Climbing the corporate ladder has been a slow process with a couple of setbacks along the way, but I remain determined to excel. I’ve sacrificed my personal life for my career—I know that. But after I became a single father, I felt compelled to become a workaholic.
The open spreadsheets on my computer screen occupy my mind. I keep coming back to these numbers, even though I reported the problem to my boss, David Robertson, weeks ago. A niggle of doubt bothers me. There shouldn’t be such a large discrepancy in the revenue for our latest product line. My twenty-something boss (who earned that position by being the owner’s grandson) assures me that he’s on top of the problem, but I’m not sure. Should I bring this issue to the attention of a higher-level executive? Can my supervisor really produce the evidence that the company isn’t missing a half-million dollars in revenue even though my calculations indicate it is? Surely any executive would be grateful for my intervention, even if the discrepancy turns out to be explained away by my boss. Right?
It’s times like this that I wish I had a colleague I trusted to turn to for advice. But I’ve intentionally held myself apart from relationships—personal or professional—since Victoria left. One day I was a happily married man with a new baby, the next a single dad with a fear of relationships.
Why not turn to God? The thought comes as a surprise. At one point in my life, my faith was firm and strong, but recent misfortunes made me wonder about whether He’s listening to me anymore. I stifle the voice inside my head. Noah, you can work out your problems on your own.
The office starts to buzz as more employees arrive. I wander into the breakroom for my daily caffeine jolt. Our office manager, Mrs. Thompson, believes that coffee should resemble motor oil—black and dense enough to almost hold a spoon upright in the cup. I cut mine with some hot water, then sip slowly, letting my taste buds acclimate to the bitter flavor. Maybe I should start bringing my own coffee. I’m sure my stomach and ulcer would thank me. I nod to some colleagues as I walk back to my office. No one stops me for a friendly chat, just how I like it.
Several hours and a couple of cups of coffee later, Bob Robertson’s executive assistant knocks on the doorjamb to my office. I put on my professional smile. Cordial enough that people don’t think I dislike them, but not so amiable as to invite friendship. “How can I help you, Gladys?”
Her usually friendly expression is replaced by an uncomfortable, serious one. “Mr. Robertson would like to meet with you immediately.”
My heart rate increases at her facial expression and the ominous tone of her words. She generally refers to our CEO as Bob, so why the more formal address today? Is this something to do with the discrepancy?
She lingers at the door, waiting for me to accompany her like I’m a new hire in need of direction. I grab my laptop and walk down the hall beside her. Gladys doesn’t make eye contact with me, so I don’t bother trying to engage her in conversation. The awkward silence between us makes me start to regret my tendency to hold people at arm’s length. If I’d been friendlier with Gladys in the past, maybe she’d give me a clue as to what’s about to happen. Good or bad.
Bob’s office is a large corner suite overlooking the mountains—on par with what you’d expect a high-level executive to have. The view is gorgeous today, with the snow-covered Rockies against a backdrop of green grass as the lush grounds around the building start responding to the cooler autumn temperatures after the summer’s drought. I’ve always thought the juxtaposition of the white mountains and the green valley surrounding the foothills is spectacular, but my anxiety keeps me from enjoying the view.
Gladys returns to her perch outside Bob’s office as I walk inside. The business-suit clad stately gentleman is sitting at his desk. His amiable smile is missing, and a frown graces his face. He stands when I enter, motioning for me to take one of the guest chairs in front of the massive wooden desk. The plush leather chair squeaks as I slowly lower my weight into it. My left knee immediately starts bouncing in nervous anticipation of what is coming next.
“Noah, I won’t beat around the bush,” Bob says without preamble after he resumes his seat.
I usually enjoy his blunt style, but not today. His eyes bore into me, rendering me speechless. Where is the jolly, white-haired boss? My palms start to sweat. I swallow
and nod for him to continue.
“As part of the preparation for our annual report, I commissioned an outside audit of our financials. As you know, I’d like to take the company public next year, so this was step one in that process.” He clears his throat. “The auditing firm found several discrepancies in product revenue which totals around a half million dollars.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he holds up his hand. “I’ve put David on a leave of absence until we get this mess straightened out. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to let you go. As lead financial officer, you should have found this discrepancy and brought it forward.” His eyes narrow. “Unless, of course, you’re the reason for it.”
All my spinning thoughts and worries screech to a halt, including my bouncing knee. Did he just say he was letting me go?
My heart gallops in my chest and I take a deep, calming breath. Bob’s lack of faith in my honesty is a real eye-opener. We’ve known each other for years. Surely my track record has earned his trust and respect, but I guess not. “Bob, I did find some discrepancies and identified them to David a couple weeks ago. He assured me that he was handling the situation.”
I start to open my laptop, but Bob interrupts me. “Do you have any emails that you exchanged with David on this subject?”
“When I spoke to him about it, he asked me not to document my findings in any emails since he didn’t know who was part of the problem.” I’d thought this was odd at the time, and my better judgment told me that I should put my concerns in writing, but I never did.
“I see,” Bob says in a cold voice.
“I have the spreadsheet I showed David,” I say again, as I start to open the laptop sitting on my knee.
Bob extends his hand. “I’ll take the laptop. Please clean your office out immediately. Security will accompany you out of the building.”
“You’re firing me? Just like that?” My voice rises as panic starts to overtake me.
Bob’s brows draw together. “David implicated you earlier this morning. He claims you were siphoning off small amounts of money over the course of several years. Since I don’t want a company scandal while we’re preparing our public offering, I’m not going to press embezzlement charges at this time. But once the auditing firm untangles this mess, I will come after anyone and everyone who’s taken money from this company. Am I clear?”
I stand up on shaky legs and face the man I used to respect. “Don’t you think it’s odd that David implicated me when I was the one who told him about the issue? Maybe he’s the source of the problem.”
Bob pays no attention to my last-ditch effort to save my job as he becomes engrossed in his computer screen, signaling the end of our meeting. I guess blood is thicker than water.
Two men wearing security shirts stand at Bob’s door. They walk with me back to my desk, and I collect my meager belongings. A photo of Sofie and me. A pink pencil holder adorned with glitter that Sofie made in her kindergarten class. A mousepad with a Dilbert cartoon on it (although I don’t find it particularly amusing at the moment). And an Employee of the Month plaque—I should probably just throw that in the trash can.
Tokens from my eight-year career fit comfortably in a shoebox. Once I double-check my desk drawers, finding a stray Snickers bar that I add to the box, the two men literally walk me out the door. I sit in my car in the parking lot, trying to calm my shaking hands. My mind spins, and I wonder how I’ll make the next mortgage payment on my house.
Sometime later, I swipe the screen on my cell phone, realizing that I’ve been sitting in my car for over an hour, paralyzed and in shock. I dial and put the phone to my ear.
“Hey brother! What’s up?” My younger sister answers in her usual happy-go-lucky style. Nothing ever bothers Ellie.
“I’m going to pick-up Sofie today.”
She laughs. “What? My workaholic brother is leaving work early?”
“Um, something like that.”
“Well, thanks. I am running a bit late today, so that saves me a trip across town.”
“Good . . . Actually, I can pick Sofie up for the rest of the week.” And probably for the rest of my life.
“Am I talking to the Noah Sullivan?” She teases.
A noncommittal grunt escapes. “I’ll tell you more tonight, I gotta go.” I quickly end the call so my sister can’t ferret out why I’m suddenly available. Ellie’s been a godsend since she moved in with me after my wife left—although I suspect my sister was really running away from a bad breakup. Regardless, Ellie’s a great help with Sofie and has been the one to drop Sofie off in the morning and pick her up in the afternoon because my corporate job was too important for me to do menial tasks like that. What an idiot I’ve been.
I start my car and slowly drive away from the only job I’ve known since moving to Paradise Springs. The day I got the Robertson Industries position here was one of the happiest days of my life. Noah Sullivan, making it big time.
The modern concrete and glass building grows smaller and smaller in my rearview window. Since it’s only an hour until I pick up Sofie, I’ll find a coffee shop and grab another cup—at least it won’t be like drinking sludge. I can pass the time by surfing my phone for new jobs. Why am I always starting over? First Victoria leaves me, and now I’m suddenly unemployed.
Just when I thought my life was stabilizing, it’s in shambles again. First dumped by who I thought was my till-death-do-us-part wife, then discarded by what I thought was my forever company. It’s no surprise that my once-unshakeable faith has vanished. God, why have you abandoned me?
Chapter Two
Raelynn
HAIR TOPPLES FROM THE BUN at the nape of my neck, looking like a bird’s nest. I’ve fixed it twice already today, so now I’m just going to ignore it. A short, easy-to-care-for cut is just what I need. Maybe I can ask my fellow kindergarten teacher and friend Cassie for a hair salon recommendation. I haven’t been in town long enough to find one.
I glance at the clock and breathe a sigh of relief. Parents will be arriving in fifteen minutes to pick up their kids. Frankly, I can’t wait for my quiet house and a warm, satisfying meal. But those will have to wait for a little longer.
Somedays I feel like a glorified babysitter, and today is one of them. Paint spatters cover my rumpled blouse after several students became overly zealous in the finger-painting art project. And I have a sticky residue on my pants leg because Benny spilled his fruit cup on me.
Still, moving to this small town was a blessing, giving me a fresh start with my career and my personal life. I love children and have wanted to start a family for quite some time, but I haven’t found that special guy yet. Maybe I’ll have better prospects in this community with its strong family and Christian values.
Parental and community support in Paradise Springs has been amazing. Unlike at my previous school, parents show up for conferences with teachers, and the community goes all out to support the school in our fundraising efforts.
Principal Marshfield hired me for the full-time position just a month before school started, so I pulled up roots and moved to a place where I know no one. The move was worth it, because teaching full time is much more satisfying than being a substitute. Lord, thank you for guiding me and giving me a new direction in my career and in my life.
A tiny hand tugs on my pantleg, drawing my eyes down. “Miss Dailey, can I put away the crayons?”
I smile at Sofie—one of my favorite and usually best-behaved students. She’s always careful when she puts the crayons back in their container. “Why yes, I’d love the help.”
She beams and scampers off to the activity area, her blonde curls bouncing as they spill down her back. She’s a beautiful child, and she captured my heart on my first day.
I wonder about her family, because her aunt brings her and picks her up every day. The student records indicate Sofie lives with her father and there’s no mother’s name listed. Oddly enough, I’ve not met her dad even though kindergarten has been in session for
over two full months already.
Parents start trickling in, waiting at the designated pickup area at the front of the room. Students squeal and rush to them, chattering a mile a minute about the finger-painting projects grasped in their tiny hands. Some parents kneel and animatedly discuss their child’s painting. Others are too busy collecting their child’s backpack and jacket so they can depart as quickly as possible. I watch the proceedings with interest, observing the different parenting styles.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Sofie shouts from across the room, then runs towards a tall attractive dark-haired man wearing a business suit. He beams as she smacks into his legs. A dimple appears in one of his cheeks, and my stomach does a funny little flip.
I walk over to introduce myself, extending my hand. “You must be Mr. Sullivan? I’m Miss Dailey.” What bad luck to meet Sofie’s dad for the first time today and have to give him a pink slip. No chance to build up some rapport with him first before hitting him with bad news.
His beaming smile fades and a polite, neutral expression crosses his face. He shakes my hand and says, “Noah Sullivan. Nice to meet you, Miss Dailey. Sofie talks about you all the time.”
I smile and nod in acknowledgement, hoping to elicit another smile from him. No such luck. Turning to my desk, I retrieve the pink slip of paper and hand it to him. Dreading this conversation, I clear my suddenly dry throat. “Sofie, can you finish collecting the crayons for me?” Mr. Sullivan stares at the paper with a puzzled look while Sofie returns to the activity area.
Turning back to face Mr. Sullivan, I draw in a quick breath for courage. “Principal Marshfield has instructed all teachers to inform parents when there’s any sort of behavioral issue in the classroom.”
Sofie’s dad’s eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to speak. I hold up my hand, politely cutting him off. “As the paper describes, Sofie and Angela got into a little skirmish over a crayon. Apparently, it was the only turquoise one left in the box and they both wanted it. Unfortunately, Sofie pushed Angela so she could grab the crayon from the box, causing the other girl to fall to the floor. Sofie sat in timeout, giving her time to think about her actions. The two girls got along the rest of the day, but I have to report this to you.”
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