Faith House

by Robin Patchen

  When Hurricane Sandy decimated the coast, he’d squelched his urge to rush to Staten Island to rescue her. Sadie didn’t need rescuing, and even if she did, she’d never admit it.

  A few weeks after the storm, her mother had tracked him down at church and asked him to check on her.

  The perfect excuse to show up on her doorstep.

  Now that he’d seen her, he wouldn’t be able to walk away—not without telling her the truth. If she rejected him...what would he do? He’d have to find a way to change her mind.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. A moment later, Sadie entered the kitchen. “Sorry about that.”

  “No problem. I guess I came at a bad time.”

  The handyman stepped into the kitchen, set the clipboard on the counter, and started taking measurements with a dented, stainless measuring tape. “You updatin’ in here?”

  Sadie stepped in front of Max to get out of the guy’s way. “I want to replace what we had, unless we can save it.” Hope filled her voice, but her shoulders slumped when the contractor shook his head.

  “All this stuff on the bottom is waterlogged.” He opened and closed a few of the doors. “These particle board cabinets aren’t made very good. Don’t think they can be saved.”

  “I understand.”

  The man measured and made notes on his clipboard. The guy needed an electronic tablet. As he flipped from his paper to his calculator, Max figured that whatever he was doing, he could’ve used some good software, too.

  Sadie started to follow the contractor as he stepped into the hallway, but Max stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm. He cleared his throat, tried to rid it of that horrible scent. No luck. “So, why do you want it back the way it was?”

  Sadie turned to him. “What did Mom tell you?”

  “That you inherited your grandmother’s house when she died.”

  Sadie leaned against the counter she’d warned him about. Not that her clothes could be more stained. “I moved down here a couple years ago to take care of her. She got cancer. She didn’t last very long after she was diagnosed.”

  The memory of their friend Josie filled his mind. The tubes at the end, the pallor. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me and hospice for a month. She left me the house.”

  “I understand you moved here to be with her, but why didn’t you sell it after she died?” And why hadn’t she moved home, where she belonged?

  “Mom really didn’t tell you.”

  “It’s not like we have coffee and chit-chat.”

  Sadie offered a tiny smile, which faded quickly. “My grandmother asked me...really, she made me promise. Not that I wouldn’t have, anyway, but still...”

  “Promise what?”

  “To wait for my father.”

  He took the words in slowly. In all their years of friendship, he’d never met her father. “What do you mean?”

  “This is the house he grew up in. Mom and I lived here for a few years, too. My Grandma kept it like this.” Sadie looked around and laughed. “Well, not like this. But the same, for all those years, because she wanted it to be familiar when he returned.”

  “OK...” He drew out the word, waiting for further explanation.

  The contractor’s heavy footsteps filled the house, and Sadie’s gaze darted to the door. “It’s a long story.”

  Max watched the man through the gaps between the studs as he climbed toward the second floor and stopped.

  “Any damage upstairs?”

  “Just those bottom couple of steps.” Sadie turned back to Max and lowered her voice. “I’ll tell you about it another time.”

  Another time? That sounded very good. “OK.”

  When the contractor returned to the kitchen, he added notes to the paper attached to his clipboard, tore off the top sheet, and handed it to her.

  “This is for labor. Could change, depending on the supplies you buy and whatnot.”

  Sadie’s mouth formed a little O.

  Max stepped closer to her. He wanted to touch her, to comfort her. He stuck his hands in his pockets instead. “You OK?”

  “Sticker shock.” She set the estimate on the counter. “I’m meeting with the adjuster tomorrow.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “You do have flood insurance, right?”

  “I hope. All my paperwork was in the basement. It’s ruined. And I haven’t talked to anyone at the agency.”

  “Lotsa folks don’t. Least that’s what I’m finding.”

  “Well, I’m going to assume I have it until I know differently.”

  The contractor’s expression indicated he didn’t hold out much hope.

  “I’ll call you when I know,” Sadie said, her voice bright with optimism. “When can you start?”

  “Soon as you have a settlement, assumin’ you’re covered.”

  While Sadie walked him to the door, Max peeked at the estimate. Whoa, that was a lot of money to restore a house to seventies-style.

  When Sadie returned, Max nodded toward the paper. “Not what you expected?”

  “As long as I have flood insurance, it’ll be fine.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  “I have to have it. I can’t rebuild without it.”

  Ah. Sadie-logic. He remembered that from when they were kids. He also remembered how futile it was to argue with her. “I have to go. I have an appointment this afternoon. Are you free for dinner?”

  Sadie’s smile brought back a thousand memories. “I am.”

  He programmed her number into his phone and headed for the front door. “I’ll call you when I figure out how late I’ll be working. Will you still be here?”

  She stepped out on the porch with him. “I’m staying with my boss.”

  “OK.” He leaned in, kissed her on the cheek, and picked up the slightest floral scent on that soft skin. He thought about the house, about her father, and about how little he knew of this woman he loved. Maybe at dinner, she could fill in some of the blanks.

  3

  Sadie brushed her palms down her black slacks, straightened the sleeve on the white flyaway cardigan, and checked her reflection one last time to make sure everything worked with her Christmas-green tank. She’d chosen her outfit carefully, thrilled to be out of the dirty jeans and sweatshirt, her uniform since the storm. One last spritz of spray on the hair she’d curled instead of jamming into a ponytail. One more brush of mascara.

  Max had filled her thoughts all day as she’d tackled some of the boxes in the basement, hefting them upstairs and out to the curb without looking inside. Whatever lay beneath the cardboard flaps would be caked in mud and destroyed. But instead of worrying about all she’d lost, her thoughts kept drifting to Max, to his familiar smile and fancy suit.

  She couldn’t wait to see him again. When had she last spent time with a friend, any friend? When was the last time she’d had a friend? She added some gloss to her lips. She wouldn’t dwell on that. Tomorrow she could be depressed about her pathetic life.

  Tonight would be fun. And yummy. She’d get to eat something besides a peanut butter and marshmallow cream sandwich for dinner. The coffee shop where she worked hadn’t reopened since the storm, and her savings were dwindling. What would she order? She didn’t know where they were going, but wherever it was, she’d get something with meat, maybe some fresh vegetables. The thought started her mouth watering.

  That flutter in her tummy had nothing to do with Max. He was a friend, always had been. In fact, until sophomore year, he’d been her best friend.

  The doorbell rang, and Sadie’s heart did acrobatics. She took a deep breath and met her gaze in the mirror. “He’s just a friend.” Her reflection smirked at her. Right.

  She skipped down the stairs and poked her head in the living room. “Marjorie, I’m going to dinner.”

  Her host turned away from the blaring TV. “Don’t wake me up when you get back.”

  On the front porch, Max leaned against the wrought-iron railing, grinning at her as she stepp
ed out the door. He’d changed from his suit into casual slacks and a maroon v-neck sweater with a matching T-shirt showing underneath. Her fingers longed to touch his soft tan leather jacket.

  His eyebrows lifted. “Wow. You look great.”

  “Better than the sweatshirt, anyway.”

  “Definitely.” He cleared his throat. “You ready?”

  She hitched her purse over her shoulder and followed him to a blue sedan waiting at the curb. He pulled open the door for her, and she climbed in. That new car smell and leather upholstery, which she’d expected to be cold, had her snuggling against the heated seats. Nice.

  He slipped in beside her.

  “Your car?”

  “Rental.”

  “Too bad. It’s really nice. Love the warmth at my back.”

  “The heated seats? Once you have them, you can’t live without them. Like a cell phone and cable TV. Do you like Vietnamese food?”

  Her stomach danced in anticipation. “Sounds delicious.”

  Max drove through the city streets as if he knew where he was going. Odd, considering he’d grown up in New Hampshire. “You come to New York a lot?”

  He turned toward the bridge and shrugged. “I guess. Every few months. I have some clients in the city, two on Staten Island. Fortunately, they weren’t hit.”

  “Mom told me you were some sort of software developer. What kinds of clients do you have?”

  “I develop specialty software. Today’s project was to get the systems back online for a private investigation firm.” He half-smiled. “These guys can solve mysteries, but they can’t figure out how to upload files.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “It is. I get to learn about different kinds of businesses.”

  Sadie shifted in her seat so she could see him better. “I always pictured you sitting in front of a computer all the time, little ‘Os’ and ones dancing across the screen.”

  “Typical, everyday computer nerd.”

  “No, no. Just...well, when we were kids—”

  “I was a nerd. Probably still am.”

  She took in his clothes, his stylish hair, his toned body. He’d come a long way from that geeky kid in high school. He definitely didn’t look like the president of the math club anymore. “You wear contacts?”

  “Laser surgery a couple years ago. I got tired of looking like an insect. And I wanted to see without glasses.”

  “I never thought you looked like an insect.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched.

  Outside her window, the lights of Manhattan lit up the sky like glittering diamonds, as if there’d never been a hurricane. But once they exited the bridge, the gaping holes from fallen trees, the damaged houses, and the smashed cars were obvious. The storm had hammered Brooklyn and lower Manhattan, as it had Staten Island. How far would they have to drive to get out of the war zone?

  She turned her attention back to Max, a much better view. “So tell me more about your job. Who do you work for?”

  “Great guy. Funny, attractive, brilliant...” He smiled, chuckled a bit. “I own my own company. I’ve got five employees, my assistant and four programmers. The programmers do most of the work these days. I work with the clients, getting them to tell me exactly what they want their software to do.”

  “Wow. And you’re good at that?”

  “What?”

  “Talking to people. Getting them to talk to you.”

  He shot her a smug look. “Surprised?”

  She grinned. “It’s just that you were so shy when we were kids.”

  “People change, Sadie.” He exited the highway.

  A few moments later, they entered the tunnel. In the yellow lights, she marveled at how much he’d changed. He had grown up, hadn’t he?

  He pursed his lips and then softened them as he glanced at her with that familiar crooked smile. So much had changed, but the boy she’d cared about was still there.

  His smile faded. “You remember when we walked the aisle with Josie?”

  How could she forget? They’d been at a Christmas concert, and at the end, the presenters asked if anybody needed prayer or wanted to accept Christ.

  Sadie had heard all about accepting Christ in church, but that day, it had seemed different. With Josie beside them, a few months into the latest remission of her leukemia, Sadie’d had a surge of hope. God could heal Josie. Of course, He could. She’d tugged Max’s hand, then Josie’s, and the three of them had walked to the front.

  The counselor had spoken of Christ and then prayed with them.

  Sadie had been certain Josie was healed. When her leukemia stayed in remission for two years, Sadie had allowed herself to believe her friend wouldn’t get sick again. She’d been wrong.

  They exited the tunnel and stopped in traffic.

  “Of course I remember.”

  “That faith—it was real for me.” Max had taken to his new faith in Christ like he’d been born for it.

  It wasn’t so easy for her, especially after Josie’s death. “It’s wasn’t as real for me then. It is now.” She bit back the qualifier. She did believe in Jesus, in what He’d done on the cross. She’d seen enough of her own sin to know she needed Him. She’d accepted His salvation, knew His eternal plans for her were good. His plans for the here and now—those she wasn’t so sure about. Her faith was weak. She got that. But she hadn’t a clue how to change it. The trust gene must have passed her by.

  Luckily, Max couldn’t read her mind. He smiled. “Good. Well, it was real for me, and for Josie, too.” His smile faded. “But I’ve come to understand that this life is about taking one small step of faith at a time. Surrendering one piece of myself at a time. One of those steps for me was overcoming my shyness.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being shy.”

  He tilted this head to the side. “I don’t know. Shyness is all about pride. And fear—of rejection, of not pleasing people. I decided that it’s not my job to worry about what people think of me. As a Christian, I live to please Christ, not man. It’s hard sometimes, and I’m still an introvert. But I decided to stop being shy.”

  “So you just stopped?”

  “It took time. Practice. Surrendering isn’t a one-time thing. Over time, I gave all those fears to God. It wasn’t easy. But eventually, I figured out I’m pretty good with people.”

  Sadie remembered the kids who’d teased him in middle school, how she used to defend him. And then how she’d abandoned him in high school. But by then, he’d found a niche of his own. He hadn’t needed her anymore. At least that’s what she’d told herself when she ignored him. “You were always good with people, Max. I knew that. It was all those other idiots who didn’t know.”

  He took her hand and squeezed. His grip was strong and warm. “I’ve missed you, Sadie.”

  Sadie thought about those high school years when they should have been friends, would have been, too, if she hadn’t been so stupid. Abandoning Max for the cool kids, for the allure of the parties, the drinking, the drugs, and the boys. All the mistakes she’d made.

  Max had gone on to earn an academic scholarship at MIT.

  Sadie had been lucky to get into UNH. She’d been so stupid. “I’ve missed you, too, Max. More than you know.”

  Finally, the traffic moved, and Sadie watched the city in wonder. She’d lived in New York for two years, and she’d only been to Manhattan twice in that time. Her life had been confined to Staten Island, and since the storm, to the house. It was nice to be away from it for a few hours.

  As they drove farther north, signs of Hurricane Sandy’s destruction disappeared. The city was decked out for the season. Christmas trees twinkled in the windows. Garland was wrapped around lamp posts. Holiday decorations glittered in storefront displays. “Wow.”

  “It’s something, isn’t it?”

  Holed up in her damaged house, she’d pretended it wasn’t Christmas. Even Marjorie hadn’t decorated. Sadie had managed to avoid reminders of the season unt
il now. She felt an acute sense of loss, of missing something important. Christmas was supposed to matter, but this year, Christmas seemed to be passing her by while she scrubbed her house clean of mud and sand. The decorations here only reminded her of all she’d lost.

  “You OK?”

  No room for that melancholy tonight. “I’m fine. So where’re we going?”

  “I thought we’d park at my hotel.” He nodded ahead. “There it is. It’s only a few blocks to the restaurant.”

  “You didn’t have to pick me up. Why don’t I take the ferry home?”

  Max pulled up to the front of the hotel and shot her a quick smile. “Not a chance.”

  An attendant opened her car door, and another accepted Max’s keys. At a small kiosk beside the door, he signed something. “I’ll need it again in a couple of hours.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After a short walk, they were seated in dark wicker chairs by the windows in the Vietnamese restaurant.

  She admired the small plant resting on the table, pulled in the spicy scents and tried to identify them, but there were too many.

  In the corner stood a tall Christmas tree covered in silver and white decorations.

  “Enjoy your meals,” the beautiful Asian hostess said before retreating.

  A tuxedo-clad waiter almost immediately took her place. “Good evening, Mr. Harrington. Madam. What can I get you to drink?”

  They gave him their orders, a soft drink for her, tea for him. After he walked away, Sadie winked at Max. “Fancy place, Mr. Harrington.”

  He put his napkin on his lap. “I love this restaurant. I come here whenever I visit Manhattan.”

  They studied their menus.

  She flipped back to the appetizer and salad page, looking for something inexpensive.

  “Get whatever you want.”

  She looked over the menu. He’d already set his down and was watching her.

  “Seriously, Sadie. I’m getting the...hmm...” He studied the menu for a few seconds and then said something, though she couldn’t have spelled it, nor repeated it, on a bet.

  He leaned across the table, turned the page in her menu, and pointed to the description. Scallops, mussels, and prawns. The price was out of her range.